#it’s probably for the same reason we just won’t admit it

[raspberryspace]

I hope you can accept who I am. I forever will always accept you as you are.

I’m tired of trying to string together some semblance of my current emotions only to be met with nothing. I’m tired of fighting myself. I’m tired of crying in my car. I can only claw at the hope that you never felt like I intentionally did this. I only ever wanted to reciprocate the feelings I had so deep within from one soul to another. You opened and grew my world as I know it. you irreplaceably shaped the goals and values I carry on today. I wanted and will always want to repay that. To reciprocate that pure partnership. Yet I own up and know just how fucking bad my naivety and unawareness was. I never wanted that. I only ever wanted the connection. I was so lonely and latched on to anything. I’m so sorry it had to be you. Im so sorry. I just want that love back it was never out of obligation. Ever. I was going through so much. I have cried over it too much to not second guess and fight this hard for it. I want it back so fucking badly. And I know it’s not the memories pushing this, it’s what created them. I know so many external factors plagued you. I know you made that decision. I just want to make sure it was truly the right one. But that’s just what I want. If I’m selfish then so be it but I want that back for the both of us. That feeling of finding that perfect puzzle piece that fits. My gut wrenches away at me daily- desperately trying to get me to not let go. To not give up. I want to work on this. I, I, I. I, am so fucking stupid. You’ve shown me through actions that you don’t want to talk. I can’t change any of that. I can only type these vague posts into the ether praying that you read them. I’m tired. I never wanted to do you wrong. I can’t ever ask for your forgiveness. I just want to ask if we can try to heal this. My chest aches for you too. I miss you profoundly. You paint the stars overhead every night. I just want to support you and serve you water when you’re thirsty late at night. I want to drive you around while you knit. Wah. I need to be present and in the moment for myself. I need to pour myself a glass of water. I’m grateful to have myself to do that. I’m glad I hold onto the values I have. It’s okay to give too much.

I can’t justify anything I just wish you would hear me.

There isn’t anything in this life worth fighting more over than this. I can’t shake this feeling that’s so rooted within me. I cant let this fall to the wayside.

It wasn’t your fault, I know why you had to do it. Can we start again?

God it feels like it just happened two days ago

Hate being bombarded with all these narratives on how to act or what to do, every single relationship is such a unique set of circumstances. Not everything is just block and ghost. No wonder people find it so difficult these days. No one fights for perfection, you adopt each others flaws and perfect them.

The people that you’re meant to have in your life won’t need persuading or convincing.

I’m ignorant to the fact that if you wanted to text me you would. But I want to text

You because I miss you. But you don’t. You don’t miss me. You don’t express that at least.

Music that makes you dance a little bit in your seat on a long drive is something to smile at.

My heart will always skip a beat for you, missing you next to us as we grow and discover this world. You’ll always be in my heart. At every corner of the globe. I won’t sit back and wait- there are places I want to see before I die. It hurts me like no other that I have to go without you, but rest assured I’m taking pictures for you. Taking pictures of you there. Taking pictures.

I wish I could go back and do so many things over again. I wish I wish I wish I wish.

What made you believe it wasn’t truly genuine, it wasn’t truly from the depths of my heart. What made it selfish to me? I think that’s what hurts the most. That and we were just starting. We just closed the distance and we’re going to begin the greatest journey of our life. Together. Just gone. Gone with no hesitation. A pro and con list. That also will forever stay with me.

Who knew spoiling myself with trips and cool clothes would make me sort of happy. Not a fulfilling as treating someone else, I don’t think my personality allows that to ever be the case unfortunately. I do love women’s wear so much though, I want to dress someone up.

I became secure and confident within our space, left to expose the insecurities and issues. Now I feel so lost.

You’ve always had to be patient when dealing with my emotions - I hope you’ve noticed my change in dealing with them. I’m a bit faster now, I’m standing up for the little guy in me more that’s for sure. I wish I could tell you all that I’ve been reflecting on. I know you probably don’t want to hear it.

I hope you’ll remember me on a sad day when you really need it. I hate that you’re alone. I hate that you’re feeling so lonely. I wished you a community I wish that you had that group there for you. I tried to hard to make sure I never got in the way of you making and finding that group, I was so sad the night you went out on Halloween. You never invited me you never asked. I had to close down the part that wanted to ask you to consider me. Jealousy and my own value came up and overwhelmed me. I just wanted you to be happy with your friends. I tried to front it out. I know that was a mistake on my end - I should have expressed what I was feeling. But I tired to show it when I dropped it all to be there for the pick up. I tried to show it with how accommodating I was. I hate that I did that to myself. I’m sorry.

Went hiking, wish you were here. I fell while walking barefoot in a stream before the waterfall, bruised my hip - reminds me of falling off my skateboard again. Kinda made me smile again. Only 11 miles, small change compared to the walking done in Japan… I’m jumping and ready to keep doing more but my friends are tired kinda sucks.

I miss you. I wish I could hold you.

[nadvs]

home before dark (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

After Rafe leaves, you make sure every door and window in your home is shut and locked.

You don’t know if Ty would do something as crazy as break in. But there was a time you’d laugh in disbelief at the thought of him hurling insults at you and that was all he did by the end of your relationship, so you’re not taking any chances.

Beneath the fear he impales you with lies a sense of betrayal. He was so good at pretending to be kind. Only a monster could put on such a convincing act just to break your heart.

When you tell yourself he’ll move on soon, you hate that it feels like false hope.

You text Sarah to let her know you made it home and that you’ll see her at tonight’s beach party. Even though Ty will probably be there, you don’t want him having any more power over you than he already has.

You’re determined to have fun. To have a life. Especially because you have someone protecting you now.

Rafe is unnerved as he stands on the beach under the starry sky that night, surrounded by the guys he parties with all the time.

The crowds and the conversations are all the same, but everything is different now. Because he’s looking out for you and it gives him something he hasn’t had in a long time. Purpose.

It’s disorienting to Rafe, going from avoiding you to keeping his eyes on you so persistently. From afar, he watches you laughing with your friends and now that he has a reason to, he takes you in completely.

He’d be an idiot not to admit that you’re beautiful. But he always knew that, no matter how hard he pretended not to notice you.

You slowly drift further away into the crowd. Rafe continues checking on you, keeping you in his sights.

Later on in the night, you’re in deep conversation with Sarah. Being three years her senior, you were much closer to Rafe when you were kids, but now you’d consider her a good friend.

When her eyes widen at something behind you, your body goes cold, expecting the worst. You turn to see your ex approaching you, a nearly empty beer bottle in his hand.

“Where’s Rafe?” you ask Sarah, hushed.

“Rafe?” she echoes in confusion. While she knows all about your ex, you haven’t had a chance to tell her that her brother is helping you put on a farce. You’re sure she’ll be in disbelief when you catch her up.

“Hey,” Ty says gently, his hand at the small of your back. The sensation you once welcomed makes you sick. “Can we talk? Please? I’m sorry about last night.”

It’s no surprise. You’re used to him yo-yoing between belittling you and putting on his nice guy act.

“No,” you respond, twisting so that his hand slips off of you. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?”

The booze in his system slows him down, but Rafe treads through the sand to you as fast as he can the second he sees Ty talking to you.

Suddenly, Rafe’s broad back is in front of you, a wall separating you from the man who’s tormenting you. When Rafe’s there, you realize Ty doesn’t scare you at all.

“Fuck off,” Rafe mutters.

Ty drunkenly staggers back, creating several feet of distance between you. His face contorts with annoyance.

“You know you’re just a bullshit rebound, right?” Ty calls. You look back at Sarah, who’s watching the exchange in confusion.

“I can’t hear you when you’re running away from me, pussy,” Rafe taunts.

Anger churns inside you at Ty’s words, prompting you to grab Rafe’s hand. You know Rafe couldn’t care less - after all, this relationship is all an act - but Ty calling him a rebound, insinuating that he’s meaningless to you, bothers you.

You pull him away, cupping his fingers with both hands.

Rafe was an inch away from chasing Ty and swinging at him. If it wasn’t for the alcohol blurring his senses, his fist would be aching right now from driving it into Ty’s jaw.

His entire body is stiff with rage, but for once in his life, the tension is dissolving instead of building up onto itself. It’s from the way your hands feel on him.

“What an asshole,” you say. Even though you should probably let go of him, you can’t.

Your touch is so warm. Rafe wants to ask why you reserve kindness for him after he shoved you out of his life. He wishes he could wipe it from his memory, the look on your face after he denied your every effort to talk to him. You grew up, but the disappointment in your stare never changed.

But he doesn’t know how to say all this. He doesn’t talk like that. With anybody. He couldn’t even talk to the therapist his father took him to see after it happened.

Maybe if he had asked him why he couldn’t so much as look at her, Rafe would have told his dad that the therapist’s blonde hair and gentle tone reminded him too much of his mother.

But after she told Ward that Rafe “wasn’t responding to therapy”, all he did was angrily yank his son out of the office, his grasp tight and painful.

Once they made it home, Rafe tearfully rushed to his parents’ bed to try to smell his mother on her pillow even though the sheets had been washed.

He spent most of his childhood pretending he was bigger than he was, eager to grow up. But he remembers nuzzling his head into her pillow that day, hyperventilating and thinking he was too small to know his heart could hurt this bad.

It felt like no time had passed when Rose came into the picture. Rafe knew his parents weren’t in a happy marriage, but he didn’t expect Ward to start seeing another woman so soon.

Rafe angrily confronted his dad, as if a ninety-pound kid could be any sort of threat. It was the first time Ward slapped him. He’s certain that it wasn’t the first time his father wanted to hit him, but his mother had always been his defence. And then in an instant, Rafe didn’t have her anymore.

You reach the shore together, far away enough from the crowd. You pull your hands away from Rafe and cross your arms, gazing at him under the moonlight.

“I wish he’d just stop already,” you say, shaken from Ty’s sudden approach. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Rafe says flatly. But he doesn’t walk away from you. He simply looks out at the dark sea with his hands in his pockets.

The waves crash beside you, the water climbing and retreating over the sand, threatening to wet your shoes.

The last time you stood together looking out at the water like this, you were kids skipping stones over the ocean’s swells. And because he’s not leaving, you take the opportunity to see if he’ll let you in, even just a little bit.

You crouch to pick up a small, smooth stone and try to skip it over the water. It immediately falls straight below the surface. You breathe a short laugh.

“That sucked,” Rafe says. His tone is lighter than what you’re used to.

“It’s been a while,” you retort. “And that rock wasn’t very flat.”

“Sure.” Despite himself, he cracks a smirk.

You can’t remember the last time you saw happiness on his face. He has his mother’s smile.

“You were better at finding the flat ones,” you say.

“I was better at everything.”

“And still so humble about it.” You haven’t joked around with him like this in so long that it feels new. “Prove it, then.”

“What?”

“That you can do better than me,” you say. “Get two skips, at least.”

Rafe keeps his hands in his pockets, looking down at the stones scattered atop the sand. The wind whips around you, threatening rain.

“We’re not kids anymore,” he rasps. If you want to take a walk down memory lane, you can do it alone.

He steps back, inviting the distance that lived between you for years to return. Yet another dismissal.

You step back, too. Your arms are not so much crossed anymore; you’re practically hugging yourself now. You need the comfort and he certainly isn’t going to give it to you.

“Did I do something wrong… before?” you impulsively say. Now that you have his attention, you find a shred of courage to ask him what’s been turning in your mind for years.

Deep down, you’ve always feared it wasn’t just the shock of what happened that made Rafe shut you out. Maybe you did or said something that deemed your friendship not worth keeping. Maybe you were too pushy. Or not pushy enough.

Rafe’s throat tightens. He never planned to have this conversation. He never wanted to.

You see his jaw clench. His silence is loud enough. It’s obvious he’s done speaking.

“Nevermind,” you say dejectedly. You turn, but his deep voice stops you.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his protective instinct kicking in again.

“Back to my friends,” you say.

“He’ll just bother you again,” Rafe states. “Come on.”

He tilts his head towards the side of the beach he was on. Looking at the group of the same rowdy guys you always see him with in the distance makes you frown.

No matter how much you’ve missed him, you know that standing silently next to him while he jokes around with his friends will just be a painful reminder of how he chose them and not you.

“I’ll be fine,” you say.

“It wasn’t a question,” Rafe snaps abruptly.

For the first time since you started speaking again, the compassion you always feel for him is overpowered by anger. You know he’s helping you, but his domineering tone reminds you of how Ty speaks to you.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat. The cold tide reaches your feet, soaking your shoes.

Irritation pricks Rafe’s skin. For years, you’ve been trying to force conversations with him, and now, when he’s inviting you to stay by his side, you’re shutting him down?

As you walk away, the feeling of rejection screws a hole into his chest. Then he realizes that this is the cold, empty way he’s been making you feel for years.

“I know,” you say when you see Sarah, acknowledging her puzzled expression, linking arms with her.

You’re about to tell her this is all a game of pretend, but the risk of Ty finding out from anyone overhearing or her accidentally mentioning it to someone is too scary.

“What was that?” she says with a disbelieving laugh.

“Rafe and I… started talking again. The other night. And we’re seeing each other now.”

“Wow,” is all she can say. She glances across the beach, as if looking at Rafe will offer any sort of clarity.

You haven’t spoken much about him with Sarah. Years ago, you’d often tell her how much you wished he’d just talk to you again and she’d tell you he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore.

She knows your relationship with him is strained and basically non-existent. You feel bad for lying to her, but your fear of Ty is too big to take any risks.

As the night carries on, your ex stays away from you.

Before heading home, you separate from your friends for just a moment to throw out your cup when you see a figure approaching you.

Goosebumps grow across your skin as Ty passes by behind you, his keys jingling in his hand.

“You planning on hiding behind him forever?” he asks. “What’s gonna happen when he’s not around, huh?”

You stare at him with a scowl, hoping your face isn’t showing just how frightened you are.

To your relief, Ty continues on his way, crossing into the parking lot. You remember him picking you up in the car you watch him sit in now and how he acted like such a gentleman, all the while hiding who he really was.

He succeeded in scaring you. His words left you unsettled, tears pricking your eyes, your breath shallow. The thought of going home and sleeping alone fills you with dread.

Maybe it was just an empty threat. But maybe it wasn’t.

You need someone to stay with you tonight. You rush back onto the sand towards the other side of the beach.

Rafe’s gaze is fixed on one of his friends telling a drunken story. But then you appear, crossing the distance with a fear-struck expression.

“What’d he do?” Rafe mutters, his body tensing. “Where is he?”

“He left,” you respond. Your anxiety pushes you to hold his forearm for some stability.

“What’d he do?” he repeats.

“He… said some stuff,” you say, voice shaking. “Can you-”

“I told you to stay with me,” Rafe interrupts. He’s seething. This could have been prevented if you had just listened to him.

But the way you’re breathing and holding onto him, as if you’re lost at sea and he’s the only thing keeping you afloat, makes him regret snapping.

“And I didn’t listen because you yelled at me just like he does,” you mumble quietly, letting go.

The comparison stings. He shouldn’t blame you. He knows that. And now that the booze has worn off, he’d love a shot at Ty with nothing slowing him down.

Some of his buddies are watching you two in confusion. They’d never seen you together and now you’re clearly in a heated conversation. Just like a couple fighting.

“What were you gonna ask me?” Rafe says, wishing he hadn’t interrupted you.

You’re unsure if you should ask. But even with your home’s security system in place, who knows how long police would take to arrive after a triggered alarm? You need someone already there in case Ty is crazy enough to break in. Someone you know can protect you.

“Can you stay at my house tonight?“ you mumble. “I’m scared of being alone.”

Rafe falters. He agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend, and staying with you is a boyfriend thing to do, but the pressure of being in an empty house together after years of avoiding you makes him uneasy.

Yet, at the same time, the prospect of being completely alone with you gives him a sense of home that only adds to the confusion that’s been clouding in his mind.

“Did you drive here?” he finally says.

You know next to nothing about Rafe these days, but you do know that he does almost everything alone. He never arrives or leaves parties with people. It’s always just him on his motorcycle.

“I came with a friend,” you reply. “But I can wait until you’re ready to leave.”

His muscles lose some of their tension. You’d be willing to stand here and wait for as long as you’d need to just so you don’t have to be on your own. You’re desperate.

Rafe stays out until he’s exhausted. It’s how he makes sure the second he’s in bed, he can take a shot or do a line and fall asleep right away, giving no opportunity to be subjected to his thoughts.

But guilt is a powerful opponent and this is a fight he knows he’ll lose.

“Let’s go,” he sighs.

After you let your friend know you have a ride home, you make your way to Rafe’s motorcycle with him in silence.

He grabs his helmet from the boot, thoughtlessly about to put it on. But then he remembers he’s not alone for once.

He holds the helmet out to you. You hesitate, about to ask him if he has an extra for himself, but why would he?

“You sure?” you ask.

“Take it.”

“You don’t have to,” you say. Rafe sends a groan towards the starry sky.

“Goddamn it, do you have to be so difficult?” he mutters. The edge of his tone is cutting. You’re fed up.

“I know you’re doing me a favor, but could you stop being so rude about it?” you say.

Rafe exhales in frustration. Shit. He’s sure he’s acting just like your asshole ex again.

“Isn’t the whole point of this to keep you safe?” he says, softness in his voice. “Can you just put it on?”

You look up at him through your lashes. His forlorn gaze extinguishes the fire of your irritation and you relent, accepting the helmet, the shell cold and hard in your hands.

Rafe swings his leg over the bike, turning on the engine. He glances back at you as you put the helmet on.

You steady yourself and straddle the sputtering motorcycle. It’s nerve-racking placing your hands on Rafe’s hips.

With his feet on the ground, he drags his big hands over yours and guides them up to his abdomen.

“You have to hold tighter,” he half-shouts over the engine. You obey, your chest pressing against his back, your arms wrapping around his torso.

You wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is pounding. His t-shirt is so thin. His body is firm and warm.

You appreciate that he gave you his helmet, but you wish it wasn’t in the way now so that you could lean on him and press your cheek between his shoulder blades.

Your mind has run away from you. It’s odd craving someone who doesn’t seem to like you all that much. You still don’t even know why he’s helping you.

As Rafe drives out of the lot, slower than he usually would, he hates that he likes the feeling of you wrapped around him this much. He’s been pushing this sort of closeness away for so long. He didn’t know it could feel so good.

As he drives beneath the glowing streetlights, he can’t remember the last time he felt proud of himself like he does now. The relief that washed over your face when he told you he’d stay at your house is replaying in his mind.

While he’s the one protecting you, you’re giving him something, too. You’re pulling him away from the sense of aimlessness he lives in every day.

Rafe goes to his place first, stuffing the things he’ll need to sleep over into a duffle bag and draping it across his chest, before driving to your house.

When you step through the front door together, he watches you quickly enter your code into the security panel, then rush to shut and lock the door.

You’re clearly still so terrified. Rafe needs to know exactly what Ty did to make you act like this.

“What’d he say to you?” he breaks the silence, dropping his bag into his hand. “Tonight. What’d he say?”

You lean against the door, hands tucked behind you as you look up at him. It’s odd, Rafe being in your house. You never thought he’d be here again.

“He asked me if I’m gonna hide behind you forever and what I’ll do when you’re not with me,” you say. It makes Rafe want to kill the idiot with his bare hands.

“I’d call the police,” you continue, “but they don’t help unless he actually does something. Or if there’s proof that he’s planning to. I just hope he gets tired of it so you don’t have to keep doing this.”

Rafe wants to tell you he’ll be here for you for as long as you need him. It’s a shock that his knee-jerk reaction is to make a promise to anyone, let alone to you.

But it’s no surprise that your focus is on how this is affecting him. He still can’t figure out what could possibly make you think he’s worth the consideration.

“Where am I sleeping?” he asks, settling for the easy way out of the conversation.

You lead him upstairs to the guest room a few doors down from your bedroom. Rafe’s eyes travel over the family photos organized in a neat grid on the hallway wall, watching you grow up through every image.

His heart lurches at an image of four people on the beach. It’s you two as kids, surrounded by your smiling mothers. He hasn’t looked at a photo of his mom in years.

You notice the sound of Rafe’s footsteps stop and you look back to see him staring at a photo. You’ve memorized the wall by now, knowing exactly which one he’s looking at.

What can you possibly say? That you miss her, too? You can’t come close to understanding his grief.

His forehead crinkles, his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow, and you swear you see him stop breathing for a moment. Then his gaze darts off of the photo and you silently lead him the rest of the way.

Rafe enters the room you take him to and swings the door behind him without a word.

You get ready for bed and settle under your covers. Knowing you’re not alone helps you doze off within minutes.

You’re in a deep sleep when a loud clang pulls you into consciousness. Immediately, you fear it’s Ty.

But once you hear the tapping on the window, you realize it’s storming outside. A roll of thunder is what woke you up. You check the time to see it’s nearly two a.m.

Thunder rumbles again as you slip out of bed. Your survival instinct is beckoning you to go check on Rafe, to make sure he’s still here in case you need him.

You turn on the hallway light and see that the guest room door is just slightly open. And the bed is empty.

Before you can jump to conclusions, you hear a laugh track spilling out of the television downstairs. He didn’t leave.

You’re pretty sure Rafe doesn’t want you disrupting his solitude. But you need to know why he’s doing all this for you. It’s been tumbling in your mind since he agreed to it. That’s what gives you the push to go downstairs and find him.

(part three)

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[the-travelling-witch]

𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌-𝐔𝐏

summary: when you forget to bring your jacket, an unlikely hero comes to your rescue; is there more to his chivalrous action than meets the eye?

pairing: kaiser x gn! reader

warnings: fluff, kaiser being kaiser; i’m still on hiatus but i have to free this idea from my mind or it won’t let me go, also i thought it was super fun when they spoke german in the manga so here we are

blue lock masterlist

“Is it me or is it chillier than normal in here?” You asked, rubbing your palms over your goosebump-ridden arms. As an assistant manager, you’d been next to the pitch more often than you could count, but on this day it seemed like someone turned up the AC.

“Hm, dunno. Seems normal to me,” Kurona said after contemplating for a few seconds. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

“I don’t feel like it, no,” you wondered aloud as you watched the Bastard München and FC Barcha players walk onto the court. As much as you’d hate to miss the beginning of the Neo Egoist League, perhaps you should make the track back to your room. “I think I’ll go grab my jacket—“

Your sentence was cut off by fabric covering your head, making you flinch in the sudden darkness.

“Hier, nimm meine. (Here, take mine.)” A voice that had quickly become familiar since the foreign teams were introduced passed by and when you lifted the front of the jacket, you found none other than Michael Kaiser in your field of view. As usual, he was looking rather smug for no reason whatsoever.

Still, he was one of the last people you’d expect to help you out, so the raise of your eyebrow was somewhat inevitable.

“Versteh mich nicht falsch, (Don’t get me wrong,)” he continued, cerulean eyes trained on you, “ich mach das nur, dass du von Anfang an zusehen kannst, wie ich Blue Lock vernichte. (I’m only doing this so you can watch from the beginning as I crush Blue Lock.)

“Und da ich sowieso nicht auf die Bank gehöre, macht’s mir nichts aus, wenn jemand meine Jacke aufwärmt. (Also, since I won't be benched anyway, I don’t mind having someone warm up my jacket for me.)” And with that, he sauntered off towards the centre of the field, the self-satisfied grin still tugging on his lips.

“He’s such a jackass,” Raichi scoffed, his jaw locked and a vein protruding from his neck. “Now I wanna play even more, just so I can teach him a lesson.”

“Now now, let’s not get hasty,” you chuckled, holding the Bastard München jacket in your hands. “As much as I understand where you’re coming from, I don’t think it’s a good idea to pick a fight with our guests on the first match day.”

The fact that you knew about the auction system and livestream you’d keep hidden for now.

“While I really don’t like the guy,” Kurona cut in before Raichi could add anything else, “I still think you should wear the jacket. It won’t do anyone any good if you really get sick. You can still go get yours after the match.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, I agree,” Isagi sighed next to him. “It is probably for the best.”

“Fine, fine,” you mumbled, sliding your arms through the comfortable sleeves of Kaiser’s jacket, bunching it up at your wrists so it wouldn’t cover your fingers.

And with that, the whistle signalled the start of the match.

To no one’s surprise, the match was shaping up to be a great one from the start, the quality and speed of the plays upped significantly with the inclusion of the top league players. Though, for some reason or another, you just couldn’t tear your eyes away from München’s number 10, the same number currently decorating your back.

You knew Kaiser was good, considering he was hailed as a prodigy for the New Generation World XI. And yet, seeing him play was a whole different experience from watching the tapes. From his superb ball control to his efficient movements and precise awareness of the field, all culminating in a lightning fast Kaiser Impact, he basically demanded your attention to be on him.

So when his gaze crossed yours after scoring a goal, you felt like you were getting caught red handed by the amused crease of his eyes. With the way heat shot up your body in embarrassment, you might not have needed his jacket anymore.

By the end of the match, your brain felt as tired as if you had played yourself, trying to keep up with the new level to which football at Blue Lock had been raised. Subsequently, you zoned out for most of Ego’s explanation of the auction system, only to zone back in as Kaiser’s 300 million Yen bid was displayed for everyone to see. And while you swallowed hard at that number, the striker in question seemed rather unfazed.

Instead, he sauntered over to where you were standing, still wearing his jacket. You were halfway out of the garment already when he came to a halt in front of you, his long fingers tangling in the fabric to keep it wrapped around your shoulders.

“Hast du nicht gesagt, dir ist kalt? (Didn’t you say you were cold?)” He asked, blue eyes sparkling down at you with an unreadable expression. “Behalt sie an. Zumindest bis du deine eigene holst. (Keep it on. At least until you get your own.)”

“What? No!” You protested, further trying to shrug off the jacket. Despite shoving it back down to where it came from, a small part of you agreed with him, not wanting to give it back quite yet. “You need it more than I do!”

“Hm? Es ist süß, dass du dich um mich sorgst, (It’s cute that you’re worried about me),” he teased, amusement written all over his face, “aber es ist wirklich unnötig. (but, really, it’s unnecessary.)”

“Absolutely not! If you get sick because of me, I’ll never hear the end of it,” you groaned, finally wrestling yourself out of his jacket and shoving it in his arms. “So just take the damn jacket, Kaiser.”

“Nenn mich einfach Michael, okay?) Just call me Michael, alright?)” One finger tilted up your chin, so you wouldn’t avoid meeting his gaze any longer. “Immerhin kennen wir uns gut genug, dass du dir meine Jacke leihst. (After all, we’re close enough for you to borrow my jacket.)”

“Whatever you’re trying to play here, cut it out!” Before he could have a chance to feel the heat rising to your cheeks, you whirled around to make a swift exit and get your thoughts in order again. 

In that moment, you were so distracted by the blond, you’d forgotten the whole world could see you wearing his name on your back. You’d later be reminded of it when seeing comments flooding social media, cooing about the gesture or speculating about your relationship with one another. But that was still far from your mind at present, which was still trying to figure out his reasons for behaving like he did.

Meanwhile Kaiser, who watched you retreat into Blue Lock’s hallways, couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at his lips. Perhaps someone here was worthy of devoting his time to after all.

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

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[soobnny]

one more month — bang chan. established relationship. fluff. chan missing you while he’s on tour. (0.6k words)

“Chan?”

It’s 11pm for you when he calls from his hotel room, somewhere oceans away. There’s still sleep dripping from your tone, and he can almost hear the rustling of sheets from your end.

“Sorry baby, did I wake you?” Chan speaks so quietly it’s almost a whisper. He was careful not to shake you out of your silence.

“Mmm, no.” You croak out.

He knows you’re lying, could almost picture you jolting from your sleep at the familiar buzz of your ringtone. The thought makes him swallow, teeth chewing on his bottom lip.

“Is there a reason why you’re calling?”

He pauses before answering. Chan has no idea how the fuck he’s feeling right now, but he knows he misses you.

It’s been 4 months since he last saw you. All he has are pictures of you in his phone, and occasional phone calls that will never suffice to the way you sound in person. To the way you feel in person.

Chan stares out the big fucking window from where they’re staying, finding comfort in the thought that you might be looking at the same moon.

He swallows again. “Does there have to be a reason?”

“Of course not.”

“Just miss you.” He breathes out slowly, head tilted on the glass windows. “And I wish— we didn’t have to be so far away all the time.”

He’s thinking of you, imagining how you look right now with tired eyes. He’s thinking of what it would be like if he was there right now. You’d probably be asleep, tangled up in each other’s limbs. It would look uncomfortable from an outsider’s eye, but he knows. Knows how it feels to have your heartbeat pressed against his and how nice it feels.

You sigh. “One more month.”

The tone in your voice is gentle, yet knowing. He knows you miss him too.

“For now, you need to sleep, no?”

It’s 3 in the morning for him, and he’ll have to be awake again in three hours.

“Can’t.” He bites his lip, swallowing hard as he tries to fight the sob brewing in his throat. Your heart clenches at the way he sounds, knows that when he feels, he lets it take over him.

“Will you be able to sleep if I stay on the phone?”

“Maybe.” Shaky.

“Okay. Have the kids been treating you well?”

A smile pulls at his lips at the mention of his best friends, and the topic change does a good job at masking the nauseating pain of missing you. A bandaid. A temporary fix.

“Still loud and stubborn, but I wouldn’t want them any other way.”

“Hmmm, I won’t be surprised if you come home with a head of white hair.”

He laughs at the thought, running a hand through his hair. “I think I’m already starting.”

“Then Seungmin calling you an old man is justifiable, then?”

“I don’t think I like you teaming up with the boys against me. You’ve signed up on my team the moment you said yes to being mine.”

You laugh from your end, and Chan’s heart flutters at the sound. He can almost see you with your crescent eyes and the cute scrunch on your nose, the one you do when you cackle.

He tries not to think about it too much. Tries not to picture himself right there with you. He knows it’d only rip the bandaid he’d desperately plastered on himself.

“Not sleepy yet?”

“Just a little.” He admits quietly, a yawn escaping his mouth.

There’s stifling from his end, and you can only assume he’s slipped himself back into the covers of his bed.

You keep telling him stories, no matter how menial, anything to keep him company. You know he just needs to hear your voice, has told you before how simply hearing you comforts him—it’s a calm only you can offer.

Chan breathes in and out slowly.

It’s four in the morning now, and there’s quiet snoring in the background.

“Goodnight Channie. One more month.”

[jewelleria]

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 

I am a Jew. 

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 

Then they sent me this: 

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

[too-much-tma-stuff]

An Unwelcome Guest (part 5)

First | Previous | Masterpost | Next

Thank you to mossycobblestonewrites for betaing for me!

----------

Something was off with Danny, he had been twitchy since earlier that day. Jason wondered if it had something to do with the meeting with Batman he’d agreed to tonight, but he didn’t think that was it. Batman didn’t scare Danny, Jason getting hurt might, but Jason was ready for this and with Danny there he wasn’t going to get hurt. 

As much as Jason wanted to let Danny talk about this when he was ready, they needed to be at their best, and on the same page. “Fox, in my office,” he demanded, using the false name Danny still went by in public after Danny had twitched one too many times. The goons around them cackled and nudged Danny with their elbow or slapped him in the shoulder, probably expecting them to go fuck which… it was a fair assumption, they did that a lot, but not today. 

Still, Danny smiled at them in a way that gave nothing away before sliding into the office after him. “So, are we here for you or me?” Danny asked, slipping past Jason to lean against the edge of the desk, smiling at him a little. 

“You,” Jason stated. It could have been him. He was pretty stressed about the meeting and he wouldn’t have minded taking it out on someone. Not today though, not when Danny was already upset. “What’s got you so twitching, Moonlight?” Jason questioned gently, stepping forward to rest his hands on Danny’s waist, forcing himself to be a calming and caring presence right now. 

“It’s nothing, Jason, really,” Danny reassured, giving Jason a small smile. 

“It’s not,” Jason argued, brushing Danny’s bangs out of his face. “I’ve never seen you this twitchy. What’s got you spooked?”

Danny looked down, unable to meet Jason’s eyes as he fought with himself, conflicted about what, or how much to say. Jason waited patiently. Danny sighed and looked back up at him. “You know I haven’t told you everything. You’ve been really good about letting me keep my secrets, and I appreciate that. I told you I wasn’t human and you didn’t push to know what I was. I appreciate that, and I’m still not ready to talk about it, But… I felt a new presence in Gotham this morning. I mean, people come and go all the time, I wouldn’t think anything of it really. But they tried to See us. I blocked their vision, but I’m worried about why they tried to look at all.

“I think that Batman might have something to do with it. I got angry when Batman tried to insist on meeting with you alone before and slipped a little. I’m worried they clocked me as not really human and if they did… what if they contact the GIW or something? I’m not ready to face them again,” Danny admitted with a small shudder. It was a very good reason to be jumpy really.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t let them have you. We don’t have to go to the meeting if you don’t want to, or I can go alone,” Jason offered softly, but he knew Danny wouldn’t agree.

“No,” Danny snarled, grabbing onto Jason’s shirt. “No, I'm not letting you go alone! We’ll go, but it’s… Jason, if they try to get me I need you to run okay? Don’t try to save me. I can save myself, but not if I have to worry about you getting hurt. I just need permission to defend myself if it comes down to that. I can’t promise there won’t be collateral damage, it’s been a long time since I did anything full strength. I don’t know how… explosive it’ll be.” 

“You don’t need my permission to defend yourself,” Jason told Danny disbelievingly. “But you have it anyway,” Jason added immediately when he saw the dubious look on Danny’s face, deeply relieved when he felt his boyfriend relax slowly.

“Alright,” Danny said with a little smile, “then we’ll be fine. Let’s go ahead with the meeting,” he encouraged, stretching up to kiss Jason sweetly before they went back to work.

--------

That night Jason and Danny went home a little early. Cooking and eating a quiet dinner together, letting the calm brace them for the meeting that night. Once they were finished and cleaned up they suited up again and headed out to the meeting spot they’d arranged with Batman; a warehouse just inside their territory. They had it staked out all day so there was no chance for a trap and arrived just before the time of the meeting so they would be there first. 

Both Red Hood and Hyena were leaning against one of the pillars together, Hyena tucked under Jason’s arm when Batman and Robin came down from the rafters. Those two could never use a fucking door! Jason rolled his eyes in irritation, irritation that turned to anger when he realized they weren’t alone, shooting to stand up straight and face the newcomer. Someone was with them, a blond man in a brown trenchcoat. Constantine. 

The temperature in the room dropped nearly ten degrees. Jason shivered, looking back at Danny for an explanation. Danny’s eyes were entirely green, no whites or pupils to be seen as he stared at Constantine, who at this point, was visibly cowering. Even Batman looked shocked by the shift in the air. 

“You do Not have permission to enter My Haunt, Hellblazer,” Hyena hissed, his voice echoing oddly as he stepped forward, in front of Jason, his arm half out as if to shield him. 

“I’m so sorry! Batman insisted I come, I promise I wouldn’t have come anywhere near your turf if it was up to me!” Constantine insisted, holding his hands up placatingly. 

“Were you at least polite enough to bring an offering?” Danny questioned, his glowing eyes narrowed. 

Constantine looked panicked as he quickly patted down his pockets. It seemed like the only thing he had was a pack of cigarettes. Danny laughed at him but considered the offering anyway, cocking his head. “They’re the brand Red Hood smoked, I’ll take them,” he decided. He held out his hand and Constantine tossed the pack to him, unwilling to get closer to a potential threat.  Danny caught the pack easily and passed it off to Jason, who pocketed it. 

“You smoke?” Batman asked Jason, sounding betrayed for some reason. 

“Really!? That’s what you’re worried about right now?!” Constantine squeaked at Batman indignantly. 

Danny cackled, shaking his head at them before looking at Batman with a thoughtful expression. “I’m assuming you brought him because you have questions and suspicions,” Danny asked with some disdain. 

“And here I thought this meeting was because you wanted to see me,” Jason put in, holding his hands to his chest as if he was hurt. 

“It is! I do! I’m just worried about you, this isn’t like you and if-” Batman started, sounding more and more like Bruce before Jason interrupted. 

“If what? If he's manipulating me?” Jason scoffed, and shook his head. “He’s not, and you don’t fucking know me!” 

Danny looked back and forth between all parties present before shrugging. “Do you know what I am, Hellblazer?” He asked curiously, looking back at Constantine, who hesitated, and then shook his head. “Do you have any skill with magic?” Danny continued. Constantine hesitated again, and then nodded. “Good. I will let you cast One spell, for honesty. Not to be forced to answer, not to bind me, but One spell circle to ensure I won’t lie. Then you,” he said looking at Batman defiantly, “can ask me your questions.” 

“Sweetheart, are you sure?” Jason asked, reaching out to grab Danny’s arm gently. “You don’t have to, you know it doesn’t matter what he thinks.” Ya, Jason was a little freaked out by the change in Danny here, but it didn’t really matter right now. They could talk about it later. 

“I know it doesn’t, but there are some things I want to tell you too, and this will make it easier,” Danny reassured Jason, clearly smiling behind his mask. 

“Um, if you’re sure?” Constantine hesitated, reluctant to piss Hyena off. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll watch you make the circle,” Danny confirmed, stepping forward as Constantine started to draw the circle. “You were the one who tried to spy earlier today, huh?” Danny asked and Constantine flinched.

“Ya, sorry about that,” Constantine apologized, his hands remaining steady as he drew, despite the nervousness in his voice

“Don’t worry about it. I’m relieved to know who it was,” he admitted with a casual shrug. “Just don’t try that again,” Danny added, shooting Constantine a glare. 

The silence was heavy as Constantine finished the circle. Danny gave a satisfied nod as he stepped inside. The signs activated, glowing gold and then green. Danny seemed relaxed and comfortable again. “Right, spells’ active. I won’t answer everything but I can’t lie. Ask away,” Danny said smiling at Jason and spreading his arms a little. 

It was Batman who managed to ask first; “What are your intentions with my Son?”

“To fuck him on every flat surface from here to Star City,” Danny stated, completely seriously, making Jason burst out laughing, Constantine choke, and Batman look like he’d bitten a lemon. “And to love him, truly and unconditionally,” he added, his expression softening as he looked back at Jason. 

“I love you too, Cub,” Jason said fondly. He switched his attention to Batman with a frown, “I am Not your son. Fuck you.” 

The lemon-bitten expression on Batman’s face got worse. 

“What are you?” Constantine asked hesitantly and Danny shrugged. 

“I’m a myth. If I told you what I am you’d probably think the spell failed rather than thinking I was telling the truth. I am an impossibility and a fact. That’s as much as I’m willing to say,” he declared, glancing at Batman. 

Jason bit down another laugh at how dramatic and romantic Danny made it sound. Though it did make him wonder What exactly Danny was. 

“Are you human?” Jason asked. He knew the answer, but he wanted Batman to hear it. 

“I was human, not that long ago, and I’m not Not human now. I am as much human as I am anything else.” Danny mused, giving Jason a look that told him Danny knew he was being a little shit, and he was enjoying it. Honestly, that he had ever been fully human was news to Jason, he thought Danny had always been half. Had it been the tests that made him Something Else? Some new version of those chemically induced Metas?

“How powerful are you?” Batman, again.

“I don’t entirely know, it’s been a few years since I’ve really tested my limit,” Danny admitted with a little frown, “I do know the last time I was measured, I could have theoretically fought Superman and won without much trouble.” Behind him, Jason whistled softly, impressed. “I don’t use them because I’m not great at pulling my punches and I don’t want to damage Red Hood’s city.”

Constantine was glaring at Batman and making a quite clearly telegraphed ‘See?! I told you so!’ motion. Batman did not look pleased. 

Hood stepped a little closer to the edge of the circle, drawing Danny’s full attention, turning more towards him. “That was why you asked me for permission to defend yourself if you needed to before we came here?” Danny nodded, looking a little bashful. “So you’d use them if I asked you too?” Red Hood asked. Danny hesitated, then nodded again. 

“I’d do anything for you,” he confessed. The honesty was ragged, it dropped heavily into Jason’s chest as he realized the true weight and responsibility of that. 

“Do you have a deal with him?” Constantine asked Danny, gesturing at Jason.

“No, no deal, no contract. I can’t be bound by such things,” Danny said, shaking his head. 

Constantine looked a little green at that, though the non-magically inclined people in the room don’t know why. “Then why…”

“Because I love him. Because he gave me purpose and Home when I had none. Humanity ripped my haunt away from me and desecrated my grave. I don’t want to think about what I could have become if he hadn’t found me,” Danny admitted with a little smile, looking down almost bashfully. 

“Your grave? So you are dead?” Constantine asked. Batman had fallen silent, probably pretty lost.

“There are many ways to be dead or undead, and having died is not the same thing as being dead,” Danny said loftily. 

Jason was pretty sure he was enjoying being cryptic and mysterious, it made him snort an inelegant laugh. That made Danny’s mysterious composure break and he cackled as well, grinning back at Jason from behind his muzzle, so familiar and wonderful. Jason loved him, no matter what he was. 

Danny’s eyes were back to normal as he looked back at Constantine and Batman. “What you need to know is that I am not a demon or a monster. I am not controlling or manipulating anyone, though I probably could if I tried. I have Claimed Crime Alley as my haunt on Red Hood’s behalf because I am loyal to him. I have no interest in the rest of Gotham, or in the rest of the world for that matter. Stay out of our way and you have nothing to fear from me.” Danny splayed his hands in a peace gesture. 

After a few moments of silence, with no more questions, Danny steps out of the circle and ducked back behind Jason. He could feel Danny press against his back, leaning against him a bit more heavily then he normally would, betraying how much this had taken out of him. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Jason said, crossing his arms and glaring at Batman. 

“But-” Batman started, sounding startled. “No! Next time, maybe try meeting in good faith without any uninvited guests. If you pull any shit like this again there won’t be any more chances,” Jason warned before turning away, wrapping an arm around Danny’s shoulders and ushering him out. Making a hand gesture to the waiting goons and gunmen as they left, signaling them to make sure Batman and Constantine left as Jason took Danny home. Not that it was needed, Constantine practically ran as soon as he got the chance.

[haechoxo]

[9:58 pm]

haechan was a mess, the last encounter with you haunting his mind. no one had seen him in weeks, his self isolation driven by the humiliation and regret.

how’d he let it get this bad?

he’d ruined the one good thing he had going for him, the one thing that could've ever gone right in his life, gone.

he caused you so much pain, so much anguish, you were sick of him, quite literally. all for what? because he couldn’t admit he wanted to be yours?

it was his turn to make himself sick. walking down to the 7-Eleven for the fourth time this week to stock up on booze, he glanced out the storefront window as he waited for his transaction to complete, and spotted you, hand in hand with choi yeonjun, as you exited the bistro across the street.

it felt like a punch to the gut, a harsh reminder of what he lost. you deserved happiness, he knew that. but the thought of you finding it with someone else, while he suffered in his own misery, was almost too much to bear, he deserved this.

all haechan could do was sigh, grabbing his items and heading back to his apartment, a sort of walk of shame, as he dialed up minjeong.

“...hello? haechan? it’s almost 10 pm.” her deadpanned tone rang through the receiver.

“y-yeah… sorry,” he croaked. she was the first person to hear from him in a while, not that she of all people was worried. “just wondering if you were maybe free tomorrow, just to hang out… i guess.”

minjeong only sighed. “listen, haechan, i don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“o-oh, yeah, i guess… i guess you're right.”

“it’s not you! well– no, yeah, it is you,” ouch, “but we both know it just wouldn’t have worked out, right? you’re too focused on y/n, and we were both clearly just using each other as a distraction.” he could only listen as she went on, too afraid to say anything, to face the truth.

“the same reason you and i would never work out is the same reason mark and y/n won’t work out. we don’t have feelings for each other, haechan. it was never there.” he sucked in a breath.

“you gotta figure yourself out. we both know you can do better.” the line went dead.

haechan slumped against his front door, the weight of minjeong's words crashing down on him. the silence of his empty apartment echoed his loneliness, the low light from the streetlamp outside mocking him as he sat there. every sip of alcohol burned down his throat, but it didn’t numb the ache in his chest. the empty bottles around him were a testament to his attempts to drown out the guilt, but no amount could wash away the regret. he needed to change, to make things right, but where could he even start? he replayed your last conversation in his mind, your tear-streaked face, the hurt in your eyes. how had he been so blind?

unlocking his phone to scroll through his unopened messages, stumbling on his chats, or lack thereof, with you. they’d been dry, barren of any feelings for weeks. and it was his doing.

the unopened voicemails, mostly from jaemin about missing cafe dates and more of johnny’s parties, but there was a new one he hadn’t noticed before.

from mark.

hesitantly he pressed play, mentally bracing for the new lecture he was about to endure.

”hey man, uh— i’m not calling to apologize or anything, just so you know, i don’t feel bad for the things i said, neither does jun. i’m still really mad at you, we both are, but you're still our friend just as much as y/n is, even she’s a little worried, renjun told her not to be and i probably shouldn't have told you but whatever. the guys have been asking about you and no one really has an answer. uhm,” mark clears his throat, “jeno said he saw you outside 7-Eleven a couple nights this week already, smoking a new pack of cigarettes each time…” he sighs, pausing for a moment. haechan can feel the lump forming in his throat from the embarrassment.

“dude just because we ‘sided’ with y/n, doesn’t mean we don’t care about you and your well being anymore. obviously you feel stupid finally, and you clearly know you were wrong, but you’re going about things the wrong way, again. you can’t keep living like this, hurting the people you care about, hurting yourself, in the process.” he pauses for a bit, and haechan thinks maybe the message had ended like that, “whatever, uh, i don’t know what else i’m supposed to say bro, just let us know you’re okay, i guess, bye.” the beep signaling the end of the voicemail rings loudly against his ear, sighing shakily as he shut his phone off.

previous - next

a/n ; this one took waaaay longer than anticipated,, i just wasnt sure how well id be able to convey his feelings as well as mark’s lovely words since I HATE HIS STUPID ASS RN 💔

[sailorholly]

Stressed

Summary: Spencer’s been in a bad mood lately, you help him feel better.

Pairing: Season 5 Spencer Reid x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.

W/C: 1.4k

See my Masterlist here

“Who drank the last of the coffee and didn’t make another pot?” Spencer propped up on his cane, asked the crowded police station. One of the officers set his mug down beside the case files spread on the table before him.

“I did. I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t know it was a big deal.” Spencer scoffed. “You didn’t think that anyone else would want coffee, when we have barely had three hours of sleep?” The officer looked stunned, obviously caught off guard by the grumpy FBI agent.

“Kid, like I said, I’m sorry.” Spencer limped over to an empty chair, taking a seat. “Don’t call me kid. It’s Dr. Reid to you.” Hotch shot him a warning glance. “Reid.” Spencer dropped his gaze. The officer put his hands up in defeat, muttering under his breath as he walked away.

You wait until the room clears before going over to Spencer. You walk slowly as if you were approaching a wounded animal. “I started a fresh pot just for you. I’ll bring you a cup when it’s finished.” You smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. “Thanks.”

You can tell he’s still upset. He has been moody for a few weeks. Even though you all had agreed not to profile each other, the team had been taking guesses about what was wrong. You still didn’t have an answer. Hotch tried to speak with him privately, but he wouldn’t open up.

At the end of the day, everyone was glad to be back at the hotel. It wasn’t like the comfort of your homes, but at least it was a place to lay your head down. You all had been running on fumes.

You took a shower, thinking of every detail of the abduction. Something didn’t make sense to you, and you couldn’t get your mind off it. You dried your hair, deciding to knock on Spencer’s door to talk through it.

If anyone could help you figure it out, it was him. He answers the door, looking grouchier than before. “I’m trying to sleep. What do you want?” He snaps. You take in his attire. He’s wearing a cardigan over his button up and dress pants, the same outfit he had on earlier.

You frown, pushing your way into his room. “Since when did you start sleeping in your work clothes?” He closes the door, gripping his cane as he walks toward you sitting on his bed. He sits beside you, keeping his distance.

“You’ve been a real asshole lately, Spencer. It’s so unlike you. Is there anything you want to talk about?” He looks away, avoiding your face. “You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you. I’d love to help you, especially if it gets you out of this bad mood.”

You watch as he considers your words. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?” He asks quietly. You place a hand on your heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” The faintest of smiles appears, the first one you’ve seen in a while.

“Now spill.” He sighs. “I am unbelievably stressed. My mom is on a new medication, and she’s giving her doctors a hard time. I got a new neighbor and he plays loud music late at night. I’ve asked him to stop, and he does for a while. Until I go on a case, when I get back, he’s started again. And I’ve been getting these headaches that won’t go away.”

He rubs his left eye, shoulders sinking in relief after he confessed. “Well, all those are valid reasons to be stressed. You really need to get laid.” You giggle, elbowing his side. “I’ve tried.” You stop laughing. You weren’t expecting a sincere answer. You were only joking.

“Wait, you’ve tried to have sex, but can’t find a partner?” You ask, a little surprised. “Yeah, I think it’s my awkwardness paired with the cane. It freaks them out. They probably think I’m an unsub.” He pushes his hair behind his ear.

“I like the cane.” You admit. “Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah! I think it’s sexy. Don’t take this the wrong way, but couldn’t you just take care of yourself?” You wince. You were having the most awkward conversation of your life with your favorite coworker.

“I tried that. But I couldn’t finish. My mind would race with a million thoughts. It kills the mood.” You lower yourself to the floor, getting on your knees in front of him. “Wha.. what are you doing?” Spencer asks nervously, his voice raising.

“Helping.” You state matter of factly. You unbutton his pants, pulling the zipper down. You’re careful when you tug his pants and underwear down his legs, going slowly so you don’t hurt him. He takes a deep breath when you wrap both hands around his hard cock.

You lower your head toward his lap, taking him between your lips. You suck slowly, waiting for his reaction. He lets out a shaky breath when you take him to the back of your throat. You suck harder now, saliva dripping down your chin.

Spencer watches you intently. He can’t believe this is happening. All the nights he had laid in bed, imagining this exact scenario as he pleasured himself. His biggest fantasy was playing out before him. He grips the white comforter on the bed with one hand, the other holds your head in place as you bob up and down on him.

This was too much. He was going to come, and he hadn’t seen you naked yet. “Come up here, I want to touch you.” He sounds almost like he’s begging. You release him, standing to remove your clothing. “Take everything off.” You command as your panties hit the floor.

He wastes no time, throwing his cardigan and shirt beside your discarded clothes. He didn’t even unbutton his shirt. You didn’t know how he managed to get it off. “Lay back against the pillows.” He scoots until his back hits the cushiony wall. You climb on top of him, legs positioned around his hips.

You start grinding against him. The head of his cock rubbing against your clit. He tilts his head back, greasy curls splayed out on the pillows. You pepper kisses against the sensitive skin of his neck, while large hands cup your breasts.

He tugs at your nipples, rolling them between calloused fingers. You feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You couldn’t remember a time when you were more turned on. “I want you to sit on my face.” You notice the faint blush rising on his cheeks as he said the words. “You sure?” He nods his head, confirming. “I want to taste you.”

You place your thighs on either side of his head. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up to where you need him the most. His curious tongue meets your center, collecting your arousal and bringing it to your clit. He moans, the sound vibrating against you. You clamp your legs tighter around his ears, letting him devour you.

His tongue swirls around you expertly. He could be writing in Morse Code for all you know. You reach for the headboard when his lips wrap around your most sensitive spot. The suction and heat of his mouth tip you over the edge. You reluctantly remove yourself from him, still feeling needy.

“I need you inside of me.” You kiss above his belly button and his cock twitches. “I can’t get on top because of my leg.” He points to the offending appendage like you had forgotten about it. You beam at him, as you you straddle him once more. “I got this.” You line yourself up with his hard length, sinking down on him.

He gasps when he fills you all the way. You move yourself on top of him, placing your hands on his shoulders for support. You rock your hips back and forth, letting your head tip back when he brushes your g-spot. You call his name, tilting your hips so he hits it again.

“You like that?” Spencer asks, gripping your hips, working your body with his. You feel the pressure building inside you. It’s unbelievable. You’re lucky if you get off once during sex, and your second orgasm is quickly approaching. Spencer feels you clenching around him.

“Already?” He is in complete awe of you. You were even better than he imagined. “Oh God, Spencer! I’m so close.” His hands hold you harder. He sits up, pressing his chest flush against yours. Your peaked nipples rub against his chest, adding fuel to the flames.

He removes a hand from your waist, bringing it down between you. The pad of his thumb drags across your clit, making you writhe with pleasure. He looks down at where you’re joined, admiring the view. “You’re taking me so well, Angel.” He swirls fast circles against you, and your orgasm rolls over you in waves.

Spencer watches as you come undone. He follows closely behind you, a string of curses leaving his lips. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. “I need to be in a bad mood more often.” Spencer thinks out loud, his lips curling upward into a smile.

Tagging some people I think would like this.

@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @cynbx @lamentis-10 @megharat-barnes @anonymously-ominous @kats72 @vivian-555 @itzdarling @emarich7 @nomajdetective @aelinismyqueen @wildernessflora @academiareid

[waitimcomingtoo]

Come See About Me

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Synopsis: Tom realizes he got you all wrong and slowly falls as he learns more about you during the press tour

Masterlist

“Oh shoot. I’m press with Y/n all week.” Tom said as he read an email from his team.

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry asked him.

“Not necessarily. I just don’t really know her that well. She was super reserved on set for the few days I shot with her. I wonder why they paired me with her.”

“Well, you’re the same age, right? The movie team probably just want to start romance rumors for publicity.”

“I don’t think that will happen. I barely got to know her during filming. I doubt anyone will see chemistry between us.” Tom replied. He started pacing around his hotel room and felt uncharacteristically nervous for the day ahead.

“Well for your sake, let’s hope you don’t see chemistry between you either.” Harry snorted.

“How do you mean?” Tom frowned.

“You know how messy relationships in the public eye can be. Just don’t go falling in love with this girl, okay? I do not want to watch you pine after your dark and mysterious costar.” Harry warned him.

“Psh. I won’t fall in love with her. That would never happen.” Tom scoffed and continued scrolling through his phone. He ended up on Instagram and saw that you had recently posted a photo. It was just a simple selfie in your hotel room which was probably just a few doors down from Tom’s. He found himself smiling and gave the photo a like. He may not have gotten to know you on set, but there’s no reason he couldn’t get to know you now.

“But if I did, why would that be bad?” Tom asked as he deep stalked your Instagram.

“The way I see it, there are two outcomes if you choose to pursue her. Option one is you get swept up in the excitement of promoting the movie and start reading into every little interaction between the two of you because that’s what the public is doing. So you convince yourself you’re in love with her and maybe she’ll even convince herself of the same thing. But once the press tour is over and you get to be with each other without any reason or purpose, you realize you never actually liked each other. And that’ll just end up breaking both your hearts. Even worse if only one of you realizes you never actually liked the other. God. That would be a nightmare.” Harry shivered.

“Okay.” Tom said slowly. “That was oddly specific. So what’s the other outcome?”

“You fall in love with her on this press tour and then it ends before you get a chance to tell her. So she flies off to film another movie and you’re stuck kicking yourself for not being honest with her sooner. And I’m stuck watching you whine about it.” Harry said simply.

“Or, hear me out, secret third option.” Tom proposed. “I fall for her and she falls for me and we have a great relationship. And maybe it lasts and maybe it doesn’t. But at least we gave it a shot. That could happen, right?”

“Maybe. But either way, she’s getting on a plane at the end of this press tour. And you can’t fall in love with someone who’s worlds away. Remember that.” Harry reminded him.

“I’m not gonna fall in love with her.” Tom insisted.

“Promise?” Harry asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Promise.” Tom said weakly. He looked at your picture one more time before shutting his phone off.

The next morning, Tom got into a black van that was going to take the cast to the building where the interviews were taking place. You got into the car shortly after with a huge smile on your face that Tom had never seen before. You were in a nice dress and full glam already, unintentionally earning yourself Tom’s full attention.

“Good morning.” You said enthusiastically as you sat in the seat beside him. He was slightly taken aback by how friendly you were being since he had only ever seen you being quiet and reserved.

“Oh, hello.” He smiled in surprise. “Good morning to you too, darling. How are you doing?”

“I’m really excited for today.” You admitted. “I haven’t done a big press tour like this before. I know they can be a little boring and repetitive but I can’t wait.”

“Yeah. These tours are pretty crazy. You get to see a lot of amazing places which is really cool. But you also get to answer the same question 100 times a day for a month straight. You’ll learn the highs and the lows pretty soon.”

“I’m ready for it all. But thanks for the warning. I appreciate any tips I can get.” You chuckled.

“You’re welcome. And don’t worry. You’ll get used to waking up at the crack of dawn and having a bunch of people you’ve never met poke you with makeup and hair stuff.”

“When?” You asked through a yawn. “Because I have a full face of makeup on before my brain is fully awake and it feels so very, very wrong.”

“Not soon enough.” He sighed. “I’ve learned to stay half asleep while the nice ladies apply my concealer.”

“Oh, so this complexion isn’t natural?” You teased and pointed to his face.

“Nope. You’re not the only one in full glam right now, darling.” He humored you, making you laugh.

“Careful. You don’t know if you can’t trust me yet. I might sell that piece of bad boy information to a news site and get you exposed.” You warned. It was Tom’s turn to laugh and he felt amazed that he had never seen this side of your personality before.

“I hope you don’t. I was just about to say that I’m glad I can share your first big press tour with you but now I feel we may have begun an enemies arch.”

“No. We can’t be enemies.” You whined playfully. “Because I was gonna say that I’m glad you’re here too. You always seem so relaxed and funny in interviews. I’m really hoping I don’t come off as nervous as I feel today.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t. It’ll feel just like a conversation.” He assured you. He was pleased to know you were a watcher of his interviews and wondered what else he’d uncover about you that day.

“Thank. I really appreciate you helping me with all this.”You said sincerely.

“It’s no trouble. If you have any other questions, just ask. I’ll help wherever I can.” He told you.

“Thanks, Tom.” You smiled at him. He smiled back and suddenly remembered what Harry had said the night before about not falling in love with you. Tom was just one conversation in and already struggling to keep his promise.

Once the van arrived at the building, you and Tom had makeup touch ups and were then sent into the junket room.

“Wow. I haven’t seen the poster yet.” You gasped and touched the poster with gentle fingertips. Tom watched you admiring it and smiled when he saw how proud you looked.

“You look good up there. I hope to see you on more posters.” He said and nudged you slightly.

“Like in Playboy?” You asked and looked insulted.

“What?” Tom gulped. “No, no, no. I didn’t-“

“I’m just messing with you.” You cut him off and nudged him back. He felt his hearts too racing and cracked a smile.

“You really had me for a second there, darling. I didn’t realize you had such a sense of humor. I guess I never heard you say much on set.”

“Thats because I found it hard to shake my character after filming all day. I guess I’m not used to separating that yet. I loved my character and all but I’m so glad to be done shooting her. She’s so dark and dramatic. It really affected my mood on set.” You told him as you both sat down in your chairs.

“Oh, wow. So you’re not quiet? You were just in character?”

“Quiet? I’ve never been described as quiet.” You laughed. “I was just in my emo phase on set because the material I was shooting was so dark. It bummed me out all day.”

“But you’re not bummed out today?” He asked with a coy smile.

“Fuck no. I’m ready to party.” You whispered to him just as the journalist came in. He burst out laughing at the unexpected expletive and earned himself a look from the journalist.

“Well alright then.” He chuckled.

That was the first of many times you made Tom laugh that day. The more interviews you did together, the more he learned about you and your personality. He paid attention to every anecdote and personal story you shared and was more and more fascinated each time.

When it came time for day two of the press tour, he could not wait to get back in there with you. The interviews were in the hotel that day and Tom got to the junket room first. When you got there, you handed him a hot cup of tea.

“For you.” You smiled and sat beside him. Tom looked at you curiously and you gestured for him to sip it. He took a sip and widened his eyes when he tasted it.

“This is exactly how I take my tea.” He said incredulous.

“I know. I was listening when you ordered at breakfast yesterday.” You said proudly.

“Thank you, darling. I really appreciate that.” He smiled fondly at you before taking another sip.

“Well I wanted to thank you for all your help yesterday.” You smiled shyly. “I was really nervous yesterday until we talked in the car. You made my first press day really memorable. So I did the normal courtesy of eavesdropping on you and brought you your favorite tea.”

“That was very kind of you. And you made my day yesterday a lot better than I was expecting so I should be thanking you too.”

“Then I’ll loudly tell someone else my favorite way to drink tea so that you can eavesdrop and surprise me.” You joked as the journalist walked in.

“How are you guys doing today?” The journalist asked to start the interview.

“I’m doing really well now that Y/n brought me tea.” Tom answered and took another sip.

“I’m also doing really well but because Tom didn’t bring me tea.” You said and looked at Tom to see if he found it funny.

“Why would that make you happy?” He laughed.

“Because I hate tea.” You shrugged.

“What? Don’t you know that is the worst thing you can say to an English person? And you just told me you had a favorite tea.”

“That was a joke. I actually hate tea.” You admitted.

“How can anyone hate tea?” Tom asked in exasperation.

“It’s just like hot, flavored water. I don’t understand what’s good about it. I hate soup too.“

“Soup too?” Tom gasped and pretended to clutch his petals.

“I think soup is so nasty. Why would I ever want to eat hot blended food?”

“If you hate soup and you hate tea, then what do you do when you’re sick?”

“I watch Fantastic Mr. Fox under my covers like a normal person.” You answered, making him laugh.

“This is very disturbing information to learn so early in the morning. You’ve surprised me, darling.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” You shrugged with a laugh.

The next day, Tom was pleased to see you already waiting in your chair for the interview to start. You were texting on your phone but looked up when he came into the room. Your makeup artists was touching up your lipstick so you couldn’t smile at him and opted for a wink. He found himself blushing at the wink and sat beside you.

“Morning, darling.”

“Good morning. No tea today?” You teased.

“I’ve already had my tea, for your information. I chugged it while I got my makeup done.”

You laughed but he wasn’t actually kidding about getting his makeup done. He was just happy that it made you laugh. Your makeup artists finished up and you checked your makeup in your phone camera.

“You look pretty.” Tom said before he could stop himself. You looked over at him in surprise before smiling.

“Why, thanks. So do you.” You said and shot him another wink. He blushed and looked down at his lap at the compliment.

“God, I’m gonna be thinking about lunch this entire interview.” You whispered to him.

“You didn’t eat at the craft service table?”

“I can’t eat that early in the morning.” You waved your hand. “It makes me nauseous. Now I’m wishing I did though. My kingdom for a cheese stick.”

“I hate cheese.” Tom grimaced.

“What? Even in stick form?” You asked him.

“Even in stick form.” He humored you. “And you can’t judge me because you hate the two most comforting foods on earth.”

“I’m judging you so hard right now.” You mumbled. Tom laughed as an idea came to him.

Before your next interview, Tom made a quick stop at the bakery across the street. You were already in the room waiting to start by the time he got back. He quickly fixed his hair before holding out a little brown paper bag.

“For you.” He said with a bashful smile.

“What is this?” You asked as you took the bag.

“Open it.” He said as he sat beside you. You gave him a curious look before opening the bag.

“Scone?” You gasped and looked up at him.

“Scone!” He smiled proudly.

“You got me a scone? Why?” You wondered and took the stone out of the bag.

“Because it was easier to find than a cheese stick.” He chuckled.

“I love you.” You cupped his chin before taking a bite of the scone. Tom froze and felt his face turn bright red at your words. You realized he had gone quiet and looked over at him.

“Sorry. Was it too soon to say that?” You asked with a mouthful of scone.

“I think so. Aren’t you supposed to wait three months?” He chuckled and touched a cold hand to his burning face.

“Too bad. The introduction of the scone sped up our relationship and now we’re in love.” You shrugged and took another bite. Tom laughed again and looked down at his laugh.

“So, uh, speaking of our relationship. Have you seen the way fans have been shipping us since our last few interviews hit the Internet? How weird is that?” He said and forced a laugh. He didn’t actually find it weird, he just wanted it see how you felt about the possibility of a relationship.

“I was actually deep into the fan edits last night to be perfectly honest with you.” You said through a laugh.

“Were you?” He asked in surprise.

“I was. And I heard that we’ve been secretly dating since May. Did you know that?”

“I did. I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry, darling. It must’ve slipped my mind.” He played along.

“That’s okay. I can’t be mad at you since you blessed me with a scone.”

The journalist came in once you had finished your scone and the interview began. Tom was barely paying attention to the questions and only focused on hearing your answers. He loved that he wasn’t getting to learn new things about you that he was too shy to ask.

“Unpopular opinion?” The journalist asked.

“A lot of people think cats are girls and dogs are boys but the real take here is that all seagulls are boys.”

“Woah, what? What makes all seagulls boys?” Tom asked you.

“A girl would never act like that.” You said simply, making Tom laugh.

“My unpopular opinion is that Y/n’s best movie is Look Mom, No Hands.” Tom said, making you burst out laughing.

“I know you did not just bring up my Disney Chanel original movie from when I was 11.”

“Yes I did. Because I watched it last night and I cried when you made the winning goal even after your glasses broke from the soccer ball hitting you in the face.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “The drama.”

“It was! The opposing team totally kicked it into your face on purpose because they knew you were the underdog. But nevertheless, she persisted. You made the winning goal and your team won the championship.”

“Wow. Way to spoil my movie from 15 years ago. And why were you even watching that?”

“Because I needed to know who I was working with everyday. It’s a part of your lore. Now that I know you’ve starred in a DCOM, I know I can trust you.”

“I was not the star. Bridget Mendler was the star. I was just the quirky best friend.” You reminded him, making Tom laugh.

“Well you were the only one I was looking at, okay darling? You were the star for me.” He said as he looked over at you. You smiled at his answer and nodded your head.

“Good answer. Favorite snack?” The journalist asked.

“Oh no. You’re gonna think I’m weird.” You smiled sheepishly.

“What? I could never, darling. What is it?” Tom asked and turned in his chair to face you.

“I put mustard on popcorn.” You grimaced.

“What the hell?” Tom’s nose scrunched in disgust.

“See! I knew you’d think I was a little freak.”

“Mustard? On popcorn? Why would anyone do that?”

“You’re thinking it’s worse than it is. Yellow mustard on lightly salted popcorn is really good, okay? Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“You’re gonna have to make it for me. Because I cannot imagine it’s good.” Tom shook his head.

“If I can get my hands on some mustard during this press tour, I will be at your door in a heartbeat.”

“It’s a date.”Tom replied, making you smile.

“It better be.” You answered, and he returned the smile.

Tom was fully in it now. Every second that he wasn’t with you, you were the only thing on his mind. You started spending your evenings together and grabbed dinner every night after your interviews. He was falling fast and getting worse and worse at hiding it. He posted a photo of the two of you that the paparazzi had taken while you were out to dinner and captioned it “I’d wait out in the cold all night just to take pictures of her too”. He tagged you and it wasn’t long before you were in his comments saying “he’s so obsessed with me it’s honestly embarrassing”. He smiled at the comment and wrote back “yes, and?” before going to bed.

The press tour was coming to an end and on the last day, Tom walked into the junket room to find only one chair in the room.

“Oh. No Y/n?” Tom asked his manager.

“Nope. Solo interviews today.” They replied. Tom faked a smile and sat in his chair. He hoped his disappointment wasn’t as obvious as it felt as he gave the interview alone. He did a few more solo interviews throughout the day and eventually got to his last one. It wasn’t long before the door opened up and you walked into the room with Tom’s water bottle.

“Hi. I’m crashing. Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly and walked into the room.

“That’s quite all right. Do you want a chair?” The journalist asked you.

“I’m good.” You smiled politely and sat on Tom’s knee. He immediately blushed and looked up at you.

“What are you doing here, darling?” Tom grinned.

“I finished early so I brought you juice.” You said and handed him the water bottle.

“What? No way.” He smiled in appreciation and opened up the water bottle to see apple juice inside.

“Juice!” You cheered.

“Juice!” He echoed. “Thank you, darling. What a nice surprise.”

“Well I had to get you back for the scone.“ You told him.

“So Tom, I have to ask about your Instagram post from yesterday. You tagged Y/n in an interesting place, Tom. Care to comment on that?” The journalist asked now that you had joined the interview.

“He tagged me there because it’s where you can usually find me.” You chuckled.

“Wait, I’m lost? Where did I tag her?” Tom asked. You and the journalist exchanged a look before you pulled out your phone to show Tom his own post from the night before. He had accidentally tagged you right on his crotch, making him turn red when he saw his mistake. And when he pieced together what you meant by what you had just said, he turned even redder.

“Oh my God. I swear, I’m just Instagram stupid. I didn’t mean to tag her there.” Tom explained.

“Yes he did. He tagged me in my location. Because that’s where I am.” You kept up the joke just to tease him.

“Where?” The journalist laughed.

“On Tom’s dick.” You shrugged. Tom covered his red face with his hands as you and the journalist laughed.

“People know that about me. If they can’t find me, they don’t ask “hey where’s Y/n?” because they already know where I am. It’s my happy place. My sanctuary. My home away from home.” You continued.

“No. No more. My mum watched these.” He playfully scolded you.

“Hey, you started this.” You reminded him.

“And I’m ending it.”

“Actually, I’m the one who has to end it. That’s all the time we have. Thanks guys.” The journalist said. The last interview was done, meaning the press tour was officially over. You stood up and adjusted your skirt before looking at Tom. He smiled softly but felt his disappointment return. The tour was over which meant today was his last day with you. He knew you’d keep in touch, but it would never be like this again, and that’s made him sad.

Instead of wallowing in his sadness, Tom did something about it. He stopped by the corner store before making his way to your hotel room. In his way there, he ran into his brother Harry. Harry took one look at the bag of popcorn in his hands and knew what was happening.

“You fell in love with her, didn’t you?” Harry snorted.

“Shut up.” Tom groaned. “I can still fire you.”

“You did the one thing you said you wouldn’t do. Now look at you. One your way to eat the most American combination of foods I have ever seen. You’re a disgrace to your homeland.”

“I couldn’t help it, okay? She made me fall for her. It’s all her fault, really. Now leave me alone. I have a girl to surprise with a disgusting snack.” Tom said and went on his way. He took a deep breath before knocking on your door. You opened your door for him and he held up his bag of supplies.

“Hey, you. What’s this?”You raised an eyebrow.

“Mustard and popcorn. You little freak.” He said with a teasing smile. Your lips curved into a smile as you stared at him.

“Get in here.” You instructed.

He went into your room and shut the door behind him as you poured the bag popcorn into two bowls. He did his best to hide his disgust as you squirt mustard over them both.

“Here. You’re gonna love this.” You said as you handed him his bowl.

“It smells like mustard.” He grimaced.

“Well, that’s 50% of the ingredients.”

“Okay. I’m doing it. I’m eating one.” He said and popped a mustard covered piece of popcorn into his mouth. You watched him as he chewed it and could tell he hated it.

“Well?” You asked.

“I’m gonna throw up.” He answered.

“Spit it out.” You laughed.

“No. You like this so I’m gonna force myself to like it too.” He said a begrudgingly swallowed the popcorn. You laughed at him but your smile slowly faded and you looked a little upset.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked you.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling kinda down tonight.” You told him.

“You are? What’s bothering you?”

“I guess I’m just sad the tours over. I don’t like when things end.” You admitted with a sad smile.

“I’m sad it’s over too. They usually exhaust me but I don’t know. I particularly enjoyed this one.” Tom replied sheepishly without meeting your eyes.

“You did?” You asked as you ate your popcorn.

“I did. Mostly because I enjoyed getting to know you.” He admitted and finally looked up at you. You smiled in surprise and scooted closer to him. Tom gulped and looked down at his lap. The tour was officially over so if he didn’t want you to get on a plane without ever knowing how he felt, he was gonna have to speak now.

“You know, before the tour started, my brother made me promise that I wasn’t gonna fall for you.” Tom admitted.

“What?” You laughed softly. “Why would he make you promise that?”

“I don’t know. He said it would only end in two ways.” Tom said and looked into your eyes with a sheepish smile.

“Which were?” You wondered.

“We get caught up in the excitement of the movie so we start a fling and then breakup when the tour ends.”

“Well that didn’t happen. So what was the other option?”

“I fall for you and never tell you. And the tour ends and you get on a plane and I regret it for the rest of my life. But I guess that option didn’t happen either since I told you.” He said as he never dropped your gaze. You stared into his eyes for a moment as you processed what he had just admitted.

“Well, what if there was a secret third option?”

“Secret third option?” Tom asked with intrigue.

“I mean, just because the tour is ending that doesn’t mean it has to be the end of you and me, does it?” You said and leaned in even closer.

“It doesn’t?” He gulped at your close proximity.

“I don’t think so. And look. You bought me food. That makes this is our first date.” You explained as you held up your bowl of popcorn.

“Well I’m happy to hear that but don’t expect a kiss with your mustard breath.” Tom mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“What was that?” You played along.

“I said you’re so pretty and I have a giant crush on you and want us to be together.” He said quickly.

“Much better.” You smiled and popped some popcorn into your mouth.

Tag List 🏷️

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[undiscovered-horizon]

"Four Crows Investigation" - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[vulgar language]

[Part 2 - Lovebirds' Outfox]

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

SUMMARY: After Nina makes a passing comment about Brekker’s heartbeat, three crows join her in an investigation to uncover the true nature of your relationship with Kaz.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.4k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

Sitting around the table, leaning forward in a secretive manner, the four Crows look nothing short of a conspiracy. Their appearance is in no way deceptive - that’s exactly the reason for their meeting. Nina looks between Jesper’s and Wylan’s shoulders, checking whether you and Kaz are in any way suspicious of their gathering. For now, you look a little too preoccupied with each other. Time for the final conference.

The Heartrender leans even further towards her friends, looking between them with a questioning gaze. She seems to be the most excited about this ‘secretive investigation’, as she called it a week ago, but that should not come as a surprise - all of this has been her idea from start to finish. The moment she noticed Kaz’s heartbeat significantly pick up when you showed up in a ball gown in an attempt to mix in with the immorally wealthy crowd at the banquet, Nina simply had to know more. Her friends, although reluctant at first, joined the scheme out of their own meddling.

“So, what did you manage to find out?” She’s trying to keep her voice quiet but the sheer excitement makes it difficult.

“I still don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Wylan stutters out while shaking his head gently. He may be part of a crime syndicate now but spying on his friends, and his boss, just seems too far.

“Because we care about them?” Jesper asks with fake worry in his voice. Then, a devious smile appears on his face. “And we’re morbidly curious.”

“Can’t we just ask them, then?”

“As if either of them is going to say something,” Inej grunts. Knowing both of you fairly well, she never expected a straightforward question to get anything outside of a snarky comment or a side-eye.

Nina impatiently taps her hand on the table. “Alright, who goes first?”

╚ Jesper’s Evidence  ╝

He knows Kaz is going to get angry the moment he walks through the door but, at the same time, Jesper’s kind of out of options. As much as he hates to admit it to himself and definitely will not do it aloud, he’s facing an impasse.

The moment he pushes the door open, your and Kaz’s eyes snap towards him. He makes a note of your shoulders - brushing against one another as you’re standing over scattered papers, a little too close for practicality or for the closeness to be accredited to accident. You’re definitely giving the impression that he walked in at an inconvenient moment.

But Jesper is good at bluffing, never giving away that he noticed the thought-provoking lack of space between you. “Carliogne won’t talk unless he sees the contract you signed with Bruglione,” he informs. “His reasoning is that we’re probably trying to fuck him over.”

Kaz stares at him for a moment with an unreadable expression. “We are,” he finally answers.

“Well, he doesn’t need to know that for now, does he?”

“It makes sense,” you speak up. Pondering, you nod to yourself. “If he sees the contract, he’ll become less cautious and playing him should be even easier. Just wait a second,” you wave your hand at Jesper, “I think I put it in the bottom drawer.”

The moment you crouch behind the desk, Jesper’s eyes catch movement - Kaz is covering the edge of the table over your head with his hand. Considering that he’s looking at papers in the opposite direction, he might not even be aware of this little habit. The gunslinger stifles a smile. Nina is going to love this.

Soon, you stand back up at the protective hand reaches to flip through a wad of documents as though nothing has happened. Extending your arm towards Jesper, you offer him the folded contract between your two fingers.

“Please, don’t get it stained.”

“Can’t make promises,” he says with a cheeky smile as he snatches the paper from you.

Jesper hears your groan right before he closes the door behind himself.

╚ Wylan’s Evidence  ╝

Wylan rarely got ‘field work’ aside from setting up explosives. The out-of-ordinary occasions were stake-outs, when he’d sit in one place for hours on end waiting for something to happen, having only Jesper’s company to pass the time - not that there’s anything wrong with that. In fact, that’s the only part that makes those ‘patrol duties’ bearable.

 Although he feels uneasy creepily watching, he’s supposed to wait for an agreed-on sign to carry out his part in the plan. And with Jesper gone to the bathroom, the responsibility of staying vigilant is his only. Sitting on the carriage bench, he has a good view of the street but most of his attention surrounds a certain table at a boulangerie near the junction. You and Kaz are doing a great job at looking common - just drinking coffee, chatting, completely run-of-the-mill people and definitely not hardened criminals ready to call their companions to action when their prey is in sight.

Wylan suddenly sits up, hardly believing the scene unfolding before his eyes: you offer Kaz your bagel and he just… bites it. No glares, no scowls, he just takes a bite and you continue the conversation. Maybe Nina was right and something is up.

The carriage shakes slightly as Jesper gets back on it. “What did I miss?” he asks in an upbeat voice.

╚ Inej’s Evidence ╝

It’s the middle of the night but Inej rarely works at other times. Only one thing stands between her and the comfort of her bed - Kaz. She’s well-aware that he’s still going to be working at this hour, making her wonder once more: when does he rest?

Kaz seems to be expecting her as he doesn’t even flinch when she barges into his office. He just looks up at her for a moment, only to return to writing something. Inej is about to tell him what Lorenzzo Carliogne had been up to during the day, when her eyes focus on a surprising singularity: the daybed standing in the corner of the office, used as an additional shelf or a desk most of the time, is occupied. First, she realizes that it’s you sleeping on it but then another, a much more interesting detail, catches her eye in the dim candlelight of the room - you’re covered with a coat that undoubtedly looks like it belongs to Kaz.

“I take it there’s a reason you’re here at this hour?” Brekker brings her attention back to himself.

“Yes,” she starts, sparing you one last glance before looking at Kaz, “Carliogne lives with his wife and three children. Staff comes in through a separate pair of doors, only the main chef and butler have keys to it. There’s a rotation in guards during lunch.”

“Good,” he answers. Kaz looks up at Inej but again, it’s just for a moment - his focus is soon directed at the papers in front of him.

A silence falls. The thought to inquire about you, the daybed and his coat passes her thoughts but an instinct dissuades her from doing so. Because realistically, what sort of answer would Kaz give her anyway? It’s better to spare herself the snark and just go to bed.

The four friends look between each other, curious whether all of them came to the same conclusion. Tense excitement hangs in the air. There is a certain aspect of juvenile nosyness that entices them, making this whole over-the-top operation fun and not just a gossip convention.

A pout twists Nina’s face. It would have looked sad if it wasn’t for her raised eyebrows, making her expression more compassionate than woeful. “They’re so in love it’s kind of embarrassing,” she announces.

Three pairs of eyes follow her pitiful gaze to the faraway table where you’re sitting with Kaz, oblivious to the interest the Crows have in you. It looks like you’re retelling him a story, gesturing wildly with one of your hands, while the other is kept on the table, underneath his gloved fingers. Kaz is just nodding along, answering something shortly from time to time. 

“Just look at them,” Jesper says with a sense of misguided pride as though he had some contribution in the makings of the couple. He’s shaking his head with amusement. “How could we ever had any doubts?”

“Do you think they know that we know?” Wylan asks quietly.

Inej shrugs. “I don’t think they care.”

[joelsflower]

you’re so vain | eddie alden x f!reader

you and eddie are roommates and work at the same newscast… but the news aren’t the only things you’re reporting together.

or

some moments sfw and nsfw between you and your ‘friend’ eddie

warnings: sexual and romantic tension, eddie is a munch, they love each other but won’t admit, funny silly goofy moods, pussy eating in public/work place (the door was locked no one saw it), protected piv… while it’s raining outside… and you make love while still not admiting your feelings… the fwb drill we all know and love

a/n: hmmm did someone ask for… fwb!eddie? ☝🏼cause i did!!!

wc: probably around 2.3k i wrote it here sorrys !

the pictures are from this post and this post by @divinesols (both highly recommended as moodboards for this btw!) and i couldn’t find the creator of the gif :/ if anyone knows pls let me know so i can tag!

🗞️🗞️🗞️

“And… cut!”

“We had a bigger audience tonight. Looks like you’ve finally managed to draw the public’s attention.” You handed Eddie a smirk and a cup of coffee while he took off his earphones.

“I always draw attention, baby” he took it and winked at you, taking a sip but immediately making a face of disgust indicating the sugar that was not there.

You knew exactly how he wanted it, but you loved pissing him off.

“And you always brings me the coffee the way you know I don’t want it,” he said as he paced to the studio’s kitchen, followed by your fast steps behind him.

“Ops! And I don’t always bring you coffee, I jus-“

“You just happened to be passing by the coffee shop. Mhmm. I know,” he mocked your tone and expressions, “and you also just happen to be thinking of me all of the time, hm?” He pinched your nose.

You gave him an annoyed look, “well, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Mr. Alden!” You said jokingly, pronouncing the “Mr. Alden” with very much cursive letters.

“Don’t call me that… At least not here.” You were always impressed by the way Eddie could manipulate the look in his eyes to translate exactly what he was thinking about. And, 99,9% he was only thinking about one thing.

Sex.

“Oh I’m not calling you that anywhere, believe me”

“Hmm, cause you rather scream my name, huh?” He raised his brows at you in a funny way, using his arms to cage your body between his and the kitchen counter while swaying a little, making you laugh in that way he loved; when your eyes squeezed together and your head hanged back with a big grin on your lips.

He just loved seeing you happy, specially if he was the reason. When was he going to admit it to you? Probably never.

“Eddie, Jesus! Not here!” Now both of you were laughing unglued his hands from your sides and pushed him away, giving him light taps on the chest.

“Alden, newsroom wants to see you.” Someone from the staff peaked from the door, causing your bodies to distance from each other at the speed of a Formula 1 car, him pretending to still put sugar on the coffee and you weirdly looking for something in the sink.

“I’ll be there in a minute, thank you,” he nodded his head, “wait for me tonight,” he smirked and taped your bum lightly, making you jump.

“Oh yeah bet on it,” you gave him a teasing tone.

“I’ll be watching you,” Eddie motioned his point and middle fingers from his eyes to yours, already by the door.

“That’s cause I always draw attention!”

🗞️🗞️🗞️

“Oh… fuck-“, you tried your best to whisper half of the depravations that were slipping from your lips and to swallow the other half that were stuck in your throat.

But it was very hard when Eddie had you sitting by the end of his desk, skirt up and legs spread wide upon his shoulders so his head could sit perfectly between them.

“So sweet, princess,” his praises were muffled against your throbbing clit, both of his hands hardly squeezing the sides of your thighs. He spent the whole morning dreaming about the taste of your pussy, and by lunch he couldn’t wait anymore.

“W-we have five minutes, Ed,” your worried little mind kept you looking every 5 seconds towards the foggy glasses on his door, but this time got interrupted by your eyes screwing shut and your mouth hanging open in a silenced cry when Eddie quit the sucking in your bud to fuck your hole with his tongue.

“I- we-,” every time you tried to say something and your words died in muffled little moans and cries he sucked and fucked harder. Eating you out was for sure one of Eddie’s favorite things and making you come when you couldn’t scream or cry freely was like a reward for his tiring day.

Having the opportunity to give you pleasure and piss you off at the same time? He was in.

“C’mon baby, cum on my tongue, hm? Wanna taste my girl,” he used two of his fingers to spread your wetness all over your center before nuzzling his head back again, nose stimulating your clit while his tongue entered you hungrily, in and out, in and out, the vibrations of his moans exploding fireworks in your veins.

The man was devouring you.

You came in a quiet moan, fingers gripping Eddie’s roots while his nails dig in your upper thighs and his face drowned in your cunt. He sucked and lapped you clean, until you were too sensitive to bear anything else, “fuck, thank you, baby. Here,” he gave you a paper tower from the adjoining bathroom he had in his office and helped you put your panties and skirt back. If you didn’t already knew all too well the smirk he had on his face you’d think by that he was something that he actually wasn’t.

A gentleman.

But deep, down, he was. For you, at least.

“Can you stand?”

“You have done better performances”

“Oh of course. ‘oh, fuck! Eddie! so good! we have 5 minutes!’” he joked while pulling you in for a see you later hug and a kiss on the cheek before you could run away from him, “thanks, bub. Best lunch ever”

“You’re disgusting,” you laughed, pushing his chest and stepping towards the door.

“If I was I wouldn’t have your pussy all over my face now, would I?”

“Disgusting,” you mouthed and closed the door, not giving him time to fry your braincells that had just started working again.

🗞️🗞️🗞️

“Shhh. Almost there, baby. You can take it, just a little more”

“So good,” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips while the raindrops slipped down your window.

Your plan definitely wasn’t to end up under Eddie tonight, but the thunderstorms got louder than you thought they would. And as it always happens between the two of you, one thing led to the other, and…

“Fuck- found your spot, pretty girl? So good t’me,” Eddie was fucking you tonight. You didn’t know if it was because of the rain painting your frames with the moonlight, the fact that it’s been a little while since you’ve slept together or if he found it cute every time you shivered and gripped his biceps cause a thunder was a bit too loud.

His cock was nestled deep inside your walls, messaging your favorite spots with each thrust. He was going slow, fierce, calculated, and he had all the patience in the world.

You could feel him everywhere.

From his fingers in your scalp to his hot tongue slow dancing with yours to every vein rubbing your walls deliciously. Sometimes his dick split out because of how wet you were together and he didn’t even bother, he kept fucking your clit with his tip, up and down, up and down, making you see stars until he felt you couldn’t take it anymore and tucked himself back in. His words? Praises and praises and praises hanging from his lips like sugar. You’ve never felt so full and so… Adored.

“Yeah, c’mon princess, can feel your little pussy squeezin’ me. Think you can come now, baby?” Eddie slowed even more his pace to watch your face contort in pleasure while tears fell down your eyes, every pulse of your warm cunt around his cock sending him closer and closer to the edge. You came within seconds, nodding your head “yes” while your little pants and moans being muffled by his own, your mouths tangled while he came with you, filling the condom you help him put earlier on.

Both of you had - intentionally - little to no sex like that; but it happened. And when it happened, it was usually because you either lost yourselves or one needed so much. You tried not to be too much in your head about it, but it was difficult when Eddie kissed your forehead and played with your head, still inside you.

He didn’t want to go, either.

“You don’t look so afraid of the noises now,” he tried to break the silence between you, knowing very well it wasn’t the awkward or comfortable types, but the emotional kind.

“The rain stopped,” you let out, with tears still leaking from your eyes.

“And are you sad about it?” he dried them from your cheek.

You smiled, “fuck you.”

“You just did,” he stared at you for a bit, caressing your cheeks as your eyes stopped watering and the last raindrops flowed down the window.

“Stay? It might rain again…”

You lifted your pinky between your bodies, “just this time,” and he embraced your smaller finger with his, “just this time.”

But both of you knew it wasn’t just this time.

It would rain again.

🗞️🗞️🗞️

When your keys turned on the locket the last thing you expected was to meet Eddie eating ice cream directly from the pot at home 20:17pm on a friday.

Sitting on the counter.

Shirtless.

“…What are you doing here?”

“Uh.. I live here? I should be the one asking you that,” he motioned the spoon in your direction.

“Eddie, it’s 20pm on a friday,”

“Actually, it’s 20:17pm on a friday”

Yeah you weren’t doing this tonight.

“Fine, whatever.”

“Hey, what’s that?” His tone was softer, he always knew when you had a bad day.

And good ones too. And any kind of day you have had and exactly how he should react to it.

“Just… Pierce screamed at me again,” his eyes followed you as you took the wine glass out of the fridge.

“So… She did her job cause you weren’t doing yours…”

“Try again,” you poured a glass.

“She’s just a bitch who can’t let you do your work without complaining about whatever shit she caused”

“Bingo!” You swallowed the whole wine in one go, watching through the glass as Eddie’s hand reached for it and took it from you, “no no no, this will not help you.”

“And what will? Being dumped by a freshman college girl and Ice cream?”

He gave you a disappointed look but reached for your hands anyway, “come here,” he pulled you to his body, arms embracing you while you positioned yourself in between his legs, head resting on his chest and arms around his waist.

“You know what you really need?” His words were muffled on the top of your head.

“Hm?”

“To shut the fuck up”

“You shut the fuck up” now your words were muffled on his chest.

“I know you don’t mean it. You love me.”

“Sure”

And actually you sure as hell did. And he loved you too. When were you going to admit it to each other?

Probably never.

🗞️🗞️🗞️

[milkteasweetheart]

『just like heaven, chapter 1, part 2』

this part contains riddle’s dream sequence. 

housewardens x reader

author’s note: i depict nrc as an actual college, so first years are 18, second years 19, etc.

summary: crowley has the bright idea of a bonding experience, specifically in the form of a dream potion.

characters: (riddle rosehearts), leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia / platonic mentions: dire crowley (ew), grim

genre: romance, fluff, smidge of angst

warnings: female reader, reader is yuu, reader is around ace and deuce’s height, sappy, marriage, mentions of potential children, some suggestive themes

「dream scene: rose colored reverie」

This Riddle looked strange. Well not really, he was just wearing a cutesy outfit with a red, fluffy cardigan and black corduroy pants. On top of it was a frilly apron. Was he taller?

The Dream Riddle took off Dream (Y/N)’s coat and hat with another chaste kiss, and the two  moved into the living room. Everything was a bit blurry except for her face. Huh. “Have you eaten, my love? I know you work too hard without taking breaks.” Dream (Y/N) caressed Riddle’s cheek. Azul was subtly rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain, raising concern within everyone.

Idia is about to draw blood from the way he’s biting his cheek, trying to prevent laughter. Normie loser! How corny can a person’s dreams get?

「Idia: At least have a cool dream! LMFAO」 (He will admit this version of the prefect looks nice, but she always does- who said that.)

Dream Riddle nods. “I’m ready to go if you are. Where are we going this late, though?” He tilts his head. (Y/N) chuckles with a clearly enamoured expression. “It’s a surprise. I know you’ll like it.” And with a kiss on the tip of his nose, the scene changes with a disorienting distortion.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

They’re now standing on the outside of a cafe. Riddle considers curling up into a ball. There has to be a reason his beloved hedgehogs do it. The hedgehogs… that he and the prefect take care of…

Jamil feels pity for Riddle who is currently making a quiet impression of a red balloon being emptied of air. Thankfully his own dream won’t be as bad… at least he thinks so.

The cafe is beautiful, too perfect with checkered floors, lacy curtains and velvet couches. Dream (Y/N) is currently feeding Riddle a forkful of the most delectable looking strawberry tart with an adoring expression. The strawberries are so red and shining it hurts her eyes. She considers addressing this, but decides to have pity on Riddle who has gone through with sitting on the floor and hiding his head. Leona does the opposite.

“Hah. Feels like my teeth are going to rot in my mouth at this rate.” Leona is trying to goad Riddle into digging his grave deeper. Might as well make the most of this dumb experience, right? He is totally not trying to distract himself from the looming threat of his dream being revealed, which is coincidentally in the same genre. Riddle shakes with embarrassment. (Y/N) notes Malleus staring at her dream counterpart from his position before the cash register.

“Ah, I think it’s quite amusing- adorable. Dreams often reflect what their creator wants, and can’t get.” For a merfolk Azul is cattier than Leona. Vil is a bit too smug too. At least his dreams are sophisticated.

Idia notices Jamil and Malleus aren’t exactly invested in this story. Well, nothing interesting is currently happening, but he must push his introvertedness in the corner to save his life.

Jamil’s a bit scary, but won’t smite him out of existence like Malleus could. “Hey…” Idia flinches a bit when he turns to look at him. “Hm?” No backing down now, Idia. “This is like, super cringe right? This is probably the worst we’ll see, but the others one are gonna be boring as hell, right? Maybe we should figure out a way to get out?” Jamil thinks about it, and crushes Idia’s hope into dust. “I need a break from Scarabia anyway. I don’t mind it here.” He also has to see Azul’s inevitable doom.

「Idia: Just say you want me dead…」

[jeonscatalyst]

‘Fans’ easily accept other member duos, don’t call them fake or fanservice or scripted - but with jikook they can’t even accept their friendship, and call them fake or even forced! When really on things like AYS (or any other jikook content) they are literally just being themselves. it’s so tiring. If fans don’t ship them, ok, but how can you not even accept their friendship?? if you’re a fan why would you call them fake or forced? can’t understand it, how can they not see they literally get on so well together and are friends ??? It’s not forced in the slightest.

Hey anon,

I could write a whole dissertation on this topic and still wouldn’t feel like I’ve said enough about it.

I’ve come to realize that there are so many different reasons why Jikook is that one duo in BTS that people have very different opinions or feelings about.

*Some people genuinely don’t understand Jikook’s bond so because they find it too complicated they choose not give themselves headaches trying to figure it out so they ignore it.

*Many people in this fandom are taekookers or closeted taekookers so naturally, they would refuse to acknowledge Jikook’s bond because it is a threat to their ship.

*Some people genuinely find Jikook’s interactions uncomfortable to watch. There’s alot of layers to Jikook’s bond and whether you believe it or not, many more people find jikook sus that they are willing to admit. Some of these people are homophobic, some of them are completely against shipping and can’t even imagine the members together and some of them are Y/Ns. How do you expect people like this to explain Jikook? They wouldn’t want to give in to their suspicions or even admit that they find Jikook sus so they naturally assume that Jikook only look sus because they are doing fanservice or are being fake because if they take fanservice out of the table, they wouldn’t know how to explain some of the things Jikook do.

*Some people are just haters. Some people just hate the idea of Jimin and Jungkook together and these people fall in the categories of shippers, solos, YNs etc. For reasons best known to them, they hate Jikook together so they would do or say just about anything to invalidate their bond.

*Seeing as human beings generally perceive things differently, maybe some people really read some of Jikook’s actions as fanservicey, forced or faked. We have established that Jikook don’t have a normal relationship with each other and that because of their circumstances, sometimes some of their interactions could come off awkward or clunky maybe even forced to some people. Think of that moment during the black swan behind the scenes where Jk “forcefully” hugged Jimin who was tired and probably didn’t want to be touched. While most of us jikookers found that moment cute because Jk just wanted to hug Jimin and fought through the push, others won’t see it like that. Or even with the travel show, we all know that it only happened because Jimin and Jungkook both wanted it to happen but just because Jimin was the one who brought up the idea and pushed to make it happen, some people will assume that Jk was forced just because he didn’t seem as enthusiastic as Jimin but we know that the show wouldn’t have happened if Jk really didn’t want it and I know that Jk could seem a bit nonchalant about certain things sometimes but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care or doesn’t want it, he just has his ways which many people in this fandom still haven’t understood so they would perceive some of those things as forced not because they are haters but just because that is really how they see it.

Unfortunately, Jikook’s bond will never be as easy to digest as other duo bonds in BTS because Jimin and Jungkook don’t have the same relationships as the others. With any other duos, they are easy to read and understand. There are no complicated feelings or overly layered dynamics so it’s easy for everyone to see and accept their bond for what it is but that isn’t the case for Jikook because these two are complicated as hell to read and understand so it is only normal that Jimin and Jungkook as a duo will give people mixed feelings.

We know that Jikook have a real, deep and true bond because we have paid attention to them and seen it all these years but that doesn’t mean everyone would and not necessarily because they don’t want to see or accept it but because they can’t admit it for different reasons or they can’t understand Jikook.

[modelbus]

streamer!reader who doesn’t like spending money on themselves x tommy who loves to spoil his gf

The man who refuses to spend money on himself spending it all on his gf… I like it.

Pairing: CC!Tommy x Fem!Reader

Spoiled Streamer

You aren’t sure why he’s like this.

Tommy won’t even spend money on himself! His biggest purchase was a hundred-dollar lightsaber he adores, and even then he still calls it stupid that he bought it. All signs pointed to him being a stingy motherfucker.

So why, exactly, did he buy you practically everything you use to stream?

God, if only you had the answer.

He just walks in, chucks something at you, then walks out. Sometimes it’s small, a thing of your favorite candy or a stuffed animal. Other times it’s the three-hundred-dollar headset that’s been sitting in your cart for months.

It’s not that you don’t love the gifts, or that you don’t appreciate them, it’s that you can only allow him to buy you so many things before you start protesting. Really, you don’t need anything he gives you! You keep it all, obviously, but still.

And it’s impossible to hide from your viewers. Once, you mentioned wanting a lava lamp on stream. After a moment, you had stated you’d never actually buy one, considering how you just never seemed to get around to it.

So how the fuck were you meant to explain the lava lamp that appeared next stream?

Tommy isn’t even trying to hide the fact he’s spoiling you to death from your fans. He threw a stuffed animal of your favorite Minecraft mob at your face on stream! On three separate occasions!

So you might’ve started fighting with fire. He gives you a random mousepad? You give him a set of raccoon stickers. For some insane reason, you thought it would genuinely work.

Instead, you started a war.

On this fine Monday morning stream, you’re anxiously awaiting him to discover your latest comeback to him buying you a whole goddamn shelf. Not one, not two, but three giant Lego sets.

He’d probably be so in awe that he wouldn’t even strike back. It was the perfect plan! So, you weren’t too worried about him interrupting your stream. Until he does.

“How did the sheep escape again?! Where are they getting out?!” You scream, waving your hands fiercely at the screen. It was like magic! You look away and they're all over your house!

“Hey!” Tommy exclaims, popping his head into your streaming room. He’s holding two bags, and you sigh.

“Hi, Toms. What’s up?”

“So, Wil was talking to me ages ago about back support or whatever. I completely forgot about it until today, Y’know?”

“Uh-huh…” you’re not sure where this is going exactly, but you have an idea.

“So I bought you a back pillow for your chair!” He exclaims, holding the item up.

“Tommy!”

“It’s for your health! And I bought myself one too!”

Oh, if he bought himself one, then it was fine. It wasn’t part of his spoiling war. You didn’t know when he started caring about back support or posture or anything, but maybe it’d actually be helpful. Especially because of how bad his posture was.

“Oh, and you know the gaming chairs we were looking at?”

“Weeks ago?”

“Yeah, I bought you that one you liked. It’ll be here in two days; I got the fast shipping.”

“The one I- Tommy!”

“Bye!”

He waltzes out, shutting your door behind him and leaving you gaping. The chair he was referring to was about the same price as the three Lego sets you bought him. And it was a single chair!

This was absolutely ridiculous, and you aren’t afraid to voice that to your stream.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” You groan. “I don’t need a new chair! Fucking insane! He’s fucking insane!”

Secretly, you’re just a little excited. It was a really nice chair, okay?!

“What do you guys think? Why are you all laughing? Stop! Stop laughing at me!”

You stop reading chat, fighting the smile that wants to show at the messages. Because even you have to admit: Tommy spoiling you? It’s sweet.

But you can’t let that show, you have to play up your act. So you flit your eyes back to your screen and what you were doing originally. It wasn’t like you could fight Tommy on the chair, he was quite the stubborn person.

“My sheep!” You cry out, realizing even more escaped. “No!”

“Oh, forgot these!” Tommy exclaims, opening your door just to throw a box of candy at you then shut it.

“Ah!” You exclaim, barely managing to catch it. “TOMMY!”

From outside the door, you hear him laugh.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

I once had a idea of a couple of villains which are everything ladybug and cat noir aren’t

The boy is the well mannered and destructive person who’s always honest, The girl is the chaotic and overwhelming person who always has a plan

Yet both hate Ladybug and cat noir for their own reasons

The boy doesn’t hate cat noir but hates liars and abusive people, and when he discovers monarch was Gabriel (threw my kid through Paris) agreste and how the heroes never defeated him, he goes off and accidentally ruins Adrien’s life (also Felix’s life for stealing the miraculous, lying to kagami about it and trying to ruin Adrien’s life, he would break the bird boy’s spine), and even his hero life by using cat noir has a example of a bad hero (abandoning Paris a couple of times, letting his emotions get in the way, never taking things seriously, always flirting and always getting brainwashed for he’s incompetence). None of it is personal for the boy but he admits he doesn’t care if Adrien gets hurt since the boy believes himself to be a bad person and being a villain is his punishment so he acts accordingly despite his intentions of revealing a lie and making a true change to destroy the status quo being quite heroic, Adrien gets a burning rage towards the boy

The girl hates ladybug for how she has everything (friends, family, fame and power) yet when she sees how she treats Adrien (lying to him under the excuse of not hurting him when it’s actually just hurting Adrien more by praising he’s abuser, being superficial since she’ll fall in love with anyone who acts like Adrien/cat walker, and the constant stalker behavior) she’ll make sure to hurt Marinette thinking she doesn’t deserve her perfect life when she was all alone before being turned into a villain and meeting the boy, she’ll at first seem like a pure evil character but she’s just someone trying to survive, she’s actually someone pretty sweet and friendly (at difference of the boy which is quite shy and closed despite it seeming otherwise, she helped him go through his traumas and he’s doing the same for her) and when she sees someone like Marinette having a perfect life and treating her partner like that would be enough to make her into a venom like for who’ll do anything to bring justice while knowing justice is the wrong word since she’s breaking several laws while making a teenager suffer

And the best part is how the two constantly emotionally support each other properly and are better working together than the bug and the cat, they talk about their problems, always talk and go out together, help each other train their powers and everything, a genuine healthy relationship built on trust, care and partnership

The point of the arc against them could be A-fixing Ladybug’s and Cat noir’s flaws and problems and make them a genuinely healthy couple, B-break them up because after everything, is there any chemistry at this point? They are the water and bread of relationships and the only good about their relationship has civilians is the “Will they Won’t they” the writers have exploited for 5 seasons and may keep going for another 5, and after everything they’ve done to each other in and out of the suit I can’t ship this two in the show anymore

But we all know Adrien will never know the truth, they’ll probably never question what happen to Gabriel, ladybug won’t ever be on the wrong and cat won’t ever suffer the consequences of his immaturity while being a hero for fun who doesn’t care about the consequences

That's a pretty interesting idea. We really need more villains with their own non-Butterfly Miraculous in this show.

[weirdthinkingdragon]

A Permanent Cuddle Buddy

Yandere x touch starved chubby reader

prob rather self-indulgent but IDC

warnings: slight crying, some self deprecation, drugging, manipulation?, kidnapping

Something I’m thinking about is a cuddle buddy that’s rather rich from creating a company but still likes to keep it strongly on the downlow. No, he doesn’t have absurdly high prices for the service, they’re the exact same as any others. No, he doesn’t get stuck up with the poorer people. He knows what the empty loneliness is like. Sure, he could pay for the service, but that might be more open to giving away his status. Plus, he actually really likes the physical contact.

Off to you, someone who just gets by and has never been given next to any physical contact from non-family or a little contact with friends. Relationships and dating just never got anywhere so you just gave up and accepted you’ll probably just have the lonely life. 

Your friends decided to “prank”? you by buying a cuddle buddy for you for a few hours. 

Here he ends up at your place because your friends have a spare key you gave to one, and waited inside for him. 

You arrive back to your home not much later after they’ve been informing him of what they’ve one. 

He’ll admit it’s one of the weirder requests he’s gotten, but hey, it beats the last one where they wanted something that required a different service. And that was the one supposed to be later today so this would be his last for the day. 

As soon as you get back to your home, your friends leave you with said stranger after informing they bought him for you. 

It was extremely awkward at first, but he manages to get things rolling from doing this for months. At least, until touch was involved. You felt so disgusted in yourself compared to him. 

“you... uh, you don’t have to do this, you know?” 

Him hearing you say that makes him raise a brow in questioning. He doesn’t say anything though, giving you the ability to continue your reasoning. 

You glare at your stomach. “I’m obviously not thin, so it’s probably really uncomfortable. And since I didn’t pay for it, you could just say we did and leave, or hang out or whatever you want.” 

He’ll be honest, just looking at you is making it really hard not to just yank you down to lay on top of him. He wants so badly to deny everything you’re thinking vocally, but he knows that doesn’t always work right. 

He stands up and extends a hand to you, who’s still sitting on the couch. “You’re saying as if you’re the only one with your type of body. Honestly, I prefer it. And I’m more than willing if you’re okay with giving the chance to try. But the bed is a better place for a first time.” 

Your stomach tightens greatly with anticipation when grabbing his hand. 

Upon entering your room, the nerves come back again. “So... how exactly should-”

“You can lay on my chest. Don’t worry about crushing me, you won’t. Again, you’re not the first with your body type.” 

You still rathe cautiously do, until he yanks you down full force onto him. Just the mere full contact makes a few tears slip as you both get more situated. 

fuck he loves how you feel and your smell. the deadly mix of both is more intoxicating than any other he’s had. He knows already that it’s going to have to become a normal thing. He can’t let this be a one time thing only, free of charge too.

And somehow he does manage to soothe you into the idea. 

It becomes from a monthly to weekly, to almost daily. From either your house or going to his, it’s never long before you and him cuddle again. 

You eventually decide to stop though because your friends are right. recently you spend more time cuddling with him that hanging out with them. 

He nuzzles his face deeply into the side of your neck. You tried to tell him at his house. He asked you to at least have a goodbye meal with him to celebrate it going on for about a year already. 

That leads to now, your body being drugged and barely responsive to moving while he sits behind you, caging you in on his bed. 

“I don’t think so. You’re never leaving me now. I refuse to be without your touch ever again. 

----------------------------------------------

maybe I’ll add or do more to the idea later. I really like the idea. A human cuddle buddy sounds so damn good too lol.