#wanted to get something out yesterday but...

[lizziesfirstwife]

YES!! Grace us with your masterpiece :P

Guardian Angel

jinu x fem!reader

warnings: hints of yearning, depressed themes, obsessed jinu?, clueless reader, use of Y/N, slow burnnn, suggestive language, not proof-read

word count: 3140

authors note: this is my first fic in a long time, so please bear with me as english isn’t my first language. have as much fun reading this as I had writing this! <3

preview to part 2 moodboard for part 2

Jinu hated Sundays. 

Sunday was the one day of the week when most of the population made it comfortable at home, not putting a single foot outside. There was nothing wrong with it being Sunday itself. A few lone pedestrians stretched through the alleys of the metropolis, mostly nurses who had the bad luck of having to work on weekends and teen groups who used the calmness of the city to hang out undisturbed. 

Jinu hated Sundays more than anything.

They were quiet, forcing one to think about all the things that seemingly went wrong the past 6 days. He didn't want to think. A normal person would have used a free Sunday to meet up with their relatives, or spend a spa day in front of the TV. 

The deeper Jinu sank into his thoughts, the more dense and dark the clouds in the sky above him became. He wasn't human. He shouldn't think about whether it was worth getting up in the morning, if it was worth carrying on with the small flame of hope he managed to sustain all these centuries. 

Contrary to all religious and folklore beliefs, demons needed sleep. Jinu slept, but didn't dream. And he was glad. Because not even demons are immune to the ghosts of their past that haunt them. 

The road was clean, the puddles from last night's thunderstorm still deep in the ditch.  

He had swapped his usually colorful clothes for something dark. No colorful pants, no colorful shirt. It didn't seem right to him. He was lost in the small crowd of the city, blending in too well as if he were one of them. One of many aimless figures desperately seeking their meaning in life. 

Sunday was the day Jinu dreaded the most. Not just because it left him alone with his thoughts, but because of the people. Or rather the lack of them. 

Nobody went out on Sundays. Hardly anyone. Not even in this big city, where new gambling stores opened every day and small businesses had to close because the rents were too high. 

The people worked so much, that they spent the time they had left with their families. He wondered what it was like to come home to a warm meal, how it felt to spend time with people who expected nothing from you in return for their acceptance. He wanted to be accepted, deep down. But acceptance was a luxury. Tolerance was a prosperity that was easier to uphold, easier to manipulate. 

Sundays were the most unprofitable days for the soul hunters. Many stores closed on Sundays, almost no activity available for the lost souls of this city. 

And out in the vast emptiness of the city it was too dangerous to do what needed to be done. 

A warm light. Large white letters in cursive script.

✮⋆˙

Had the flour expired? The lettuce leaves looked strangely shriveled, didn't they? 

She had a feeling she would get fired soon because of the action with the cupcakes, but if not, her voluntary letter of resignation would be typed and sent away faster than she needed to get up in the morning. It was supposed to be a part-time job to finance her studies, a shitty minimum wage job as an untrained bakery employee. She had no idea how to even bake bread, because the last time she tried, she almost lost a tooth. 

But she knew how to get cinnamon buns out of the packaging, or how to make a sandwich with instructions. 

She loved Sundays. 

No one wanted to work on Sundays, which meant much-needed bonuses and an exceptionally quiet shift. Working in customer service was not for the light-hearted.

Yesterday, she tried a new hair styling cream that was supposed to have some kind of magical bonding system in it. Allegedly even Zoey from Huntix used it. Y/N was frustrated with her hair. Wearing it up every day for work and the heat from the dozen ovens didn’t help care for it. So she tried it out.

Only for her hair to end up in a low wispy bun this morning anyway. Work rules and such things. 

Y/N sighed. Luckily it was Sunday. That meant that after her shift ended, she could take home all the left over baked goods that didn’t sell that day. 

She wasn’t poor, she still had her parents sending her a bit of money every month. But she didn’t have a job yet. A real job, not this forced university funding job. A job which she could only apply to with her degree in archeology. 

Everyone has told her she wouldn’t find a job in the field, that only the far more experienced archaeologist experts would be getting booked on excavation sites.  Y/N sighed and dumped the weird smelling flour in the trash can under the front desk. 

She knew they were right. Surviving as an archeologist in South Korea was harder than in the USA or Europe, where she would’ve had better job prospects. 

Pulling out the chair behind the counter, she smiled as she sat on it, straightening her apron. She would find a way to get into an excavation. Do some internships, join a few archeological Facebook groups, and she would surely feel better. Fake it until you make it. 

The bell tinkled, announcing the arrival of a new customer.

✮⋆˙

The air in the small shop soured of cinnamon and sakura room refresher. Jinu scrunched his nose. 

He didn't know when he had pushed the door of the small bakery inwards, when exactly he had entered the small space. A few white wooden chairs stood in two corners of the store, accompanied by equally white round marble tables decorated with lacy white table cloths. Tulips that were starting to wilt, filled various vases in the small space. A warm lamp hanging from the ceiling, inviting dust so sit on it if not cleaned properly.

Demons did not have to eat human food. They could, but it didn’t make them survive. They had the burden of robbing people of their souls, their entire lives, who deserved it the least. People at their lowest point. Homeless people. Desperate teenagers who ran away from home at night because they had long since given up hope of a better life. Jinu wanted to feel sorry for them. On dark days, the only thing that kept him waking up from his dreary sleep was the small flame of hope he protected inside himself for all those years.

But what choice did he have, what choice but to take away the only thing they had left in their miserable lives?

A low hum interrupted the path of his wandering eyes, which scrutinized every detail of the bakery.

He turned around. He was used to people starting to scream, especially women, when they spotted him. When they saw the K-Pop star. When they saw the version of him that millions of people loved. Forced smile, clothes that no grown man would voluntarily wear, happiness basically tattooed on his face. These reactions soothed something inside him. 

On days when he wondered what it was like to be really liked by someone, or even loved... on those days it wasn't quite so bad to think about it. After all, he had fans who loved him, didn't he? Isn't that what counted? With every new fan, he reached thousands of others. One step closer to their goal. 

True love and affection, which did not have to be bought or hypocritized, did not exist. 

But she didn’t scream. She just sat there. He almost didn’t spot her sitting behind the counter, which displayed varieties of tuna sandwiches and some adequate looking baked goods. When she spotted him standing there all still, she quickly put her phone aside and stood up. 

Jinu wanted to chuckle. Now he knew where the sakura scent came from. 

Her hair was tied together behind her head, some fashion strands hanging down her temples. It curled slightly, maybe from the heat of the oven behind her. Maybe it was just her natural hair texture. 

Her lips moved, but he heard nothing. She smelled of cherry blossoms and cinnamon, looked as if the word unhappy was not part of her vocabulary. 

Her fingers touched her necklace, nails embellished with pink nail polish. He had never understood why women painted their nails when hardly anyone would pay attention to such things. 

His eyebrows furrowed. 

They looked beautiful.

"Do you need help?" 

His eyes snapped up.

✮⋆˙

Y/N didn’t believe in angels. 

She didn’t have a hard childhood growing up. She had two married parents and an annoying older sister that moved out from home years ago and barely texted her anymore. While most of her friend’s parents got divorced in high school or throughout college and university, her parents stayed together. Simply out of convenience, or out of love that still lingered in their hearts from all those years ago, Y/N wasn’t sure what it was that kept them together for this long. 

They were busy working all the time, her father an architect that traveled abroad often, and her mom a veterinary nurse. Their marriage worked, but as the years went on, Y/N felt more and more invisible to their love. Their affection barely was enough for themselves, and she as their youngest child became forgotten. When she was younger, she used to curse out the devil for making her parents so successful in life. She didn’t believe in angels or the tale of every person having a guardian angel, because if they really existed, they did a really bad job.

But as she looked up to the customer who entered the small shop, ready to recite her studied standard greeting, she froze. 

He was tall. The smell of rain emitted from him, most likely from wandering outside in the still damp streets. But he didn’t say anything, he just stared at her.

He looked at her like she had the answer to all of his life problems, as if she was a puzzle waiting to be solved. 

His eyes looked mesmerizing. A deep brown, almost black, looked back at her own eyes, captivating her in a trance she was unable to escape. Was this how sirens lured sailors into their deathly embrace?

But he didn’t look evil. He didn’t look like the type of man to hurt you, just to feel malicious. 

She tried to speak, but the words didn’t want to leave her mouth. Her fingers wandered to her necklace, touching the small gemstone pendant hanging on it. It was a nervous habit she picked up during exam phase in high school, her fingers playing with her jewelry as soon as she got the slightest bit anxious. 

She certainly wasn’t in high school anymore, and she definitely didn’t know why she was uneasy, why she suddenly felt conscious about her hair, the stains on her apron, or that she forgot to apply mascara this morning. 

Shaking her head, she forced her fingers to let go of her necklace and instead grip on the marble counter in front of her. 

“Do you need help?” 

The man seemed to snap out of his trance, and shook his head. 

“No, no- I mean yes.”

Y/N crooked her eyebrow and hummed. Out of customers talking to someone on the phone, placing their card on the card reader without telling her they want to pay by card, and customers that complained about the prices, the ones who were unsure what to get were her favorite. 

“Any idea of what you want to get today? A sweet treat or a hearty snack?”

He shook his head. Jinu wasn’t prepared to talk to anyone, less a woman who he didn’t know why his words suddenly turned to thin air when looking at. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the displace of products behind the glass. He was a charming, young superstar, who never had to try to get humans to like him. They just did, annoyance and rejection foreign to him. He knew that that affection wasn’t real, but it was the best available for him at the moment. But this woman was blind to his charm it seemed, indifferent to his looks. 

Y/N wasn’t unfazed. She tried to appear that way, at the very least. Inside of her, she was screaming at how sinfully good he looked. She couldn’t afford to think that way about anyone. Love didn’t last, a curse doomed to dissolve under time. But God, if his eyes didn’t want her to jump into his arms, she didn’t know what do think anymore. 

Humming again, she tapped her foot against the wooden floor of the bakery. 

“Do you like it spicy?”

His head snapped up from where he was previously looking at, pupils widened.

“What?”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at his reaction. How couldn’t he understand this simple-

“Oh! No, no, not like that! Oh God-“

Jinu chuckled, her reaction making him feel slightly bad for his uncertainty of what to get. 

“Yeah, I like it spicy.”

Y/N looked at the man who was holding back a laugh, and furrowed her eyebrows.

“Are you making fun of me?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, crossing her arms. 

“No. I mean it. I like spicy food. I don’t look like a liar, do I?”

Y/N shook her head, sighing and pointing to the left side of the food display. She was getting underpaid, and she only got 4 hours of sleep. She didn’t want to argue with anyone, less this sinfully charming Korean Adonis. 

“We have chicken sandwiches with gochujang, grilled garaetteok, or plain chili filled rice balls.”

Jinu pretended to think about which option to choose, but in reality he was just using the time to look at her from underneath his eyelashes. He didn’t know what about her made him curious, it just…felt right to look at her.

He straightened up again and looked at her, really looked at her.

“What is your favorite?”

Truth was, Jinu didn’t know how any of these dishes tasted like. The last time he ate food for enjoyment reasons was 400 years ago, the taste of everything he once loved long forgotten in his trapped mind. He didn’t know how to cook either. His mother always cooked for him and his little sister, refusing to let him do anything besides working hard on his career. He shook his head. Laughter echoed inside his head, the smile of a woman he didn’t recognize haunting his mind. 

Y/N didn’t know what to answer to that. No one cared about her opinion, everyone just expecting her to wrap up their food and give them their change. She put a loose strand of hair behind her ear and shook her head. 

“I don’t have one. I don’t like spicy food at all.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Then what made you think I would like it?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “You look like the opposite of me. I don’t like spicy food, so I figured you might like it.”

Jinu looked her up and down. She was wearing faint pink colored jeans, a white blouse and over that her black work apron with a few stains on it. Her pink nails and jewelry only complemented her outfit. She was right.

While she was a star trying to shine, he was a meteor trying not to crash into earth. 

“So what do you like then?”

She pointed to a small brown baked sweet treat with white frosting on top, and dried honey in the shape of a heart draped on it. “This is the only thing in here I made myself. Everything else really is just ripped out of a plastic wrap and put into an oven.”

He nodded, not even looking at the other options. “I’ll take it then, your…” He squinted his eyes and looked down at the lettering in front of the item. “…cinnamon roll.”

Y/N smiled at that. She didn’t know what drew her to him. He looked strangely familiar to her, the level of familiar of someone you met in a dream you only dreamed once. 

She took a pair of tongs and placed the cinnamon roll in a brown paper bag. No one ever bought the cinnamon rolls, too special of a taste and too sweet for most people. That’s why she loved them, and the overwhelming taste of hope that came with them. Hope that she carried within her every day she came to work, every time she cried herself to sleep because of her dream job being unavailable to her. Every morning she would come to work early, just to bake the sweet treat over and over again, in hopes of not taking it home with her again like the last day and the day before that. They were the only thing in this store that she wasn’t happy to be able to take home on Sundays.  

She typed something in the screen of the cash register, the imagine for the cinnamon rolls popping up, and selected it. 

“That would make 7000 won (5$). Cash or card?”

He reached into his back pocket, and placed a crisp ten-thousand won note on the counter.

She was already typing it in the register, when he took his bag from the countertop and just shook his head. 

“Keep the change.” He opened the bag and took a bite out of the roll, eyes widening briefly before looking at her. “It’s worth the money.”

With that, he turned around and exited the store, leaving behind a baffled young lady and way too much change.

Y/N looked down at the note and put it into the till. She took out the change, and carefully dropped it into the tip jar on top of the counter. Employees weren’t allowed to take the tips customers gave them home, instead having to put them in the tip jar to be divided under all employees every week. But since it was Sunday and she would be closing the shop, the jar was all hers.

She dropped on her chair she was sitting on earlier, her arms hanging still beside her. Her head felt like a void, empty and shouting simultaneously. 

The strange feeling inside of her lingered, the premonition of this not being the first time they met. Her mind couldn’t put a finger on where she could possibly know him from, and it killed her. 

She shook her head, and wet a rag before wiping down the countertop. 

She didn’t know he was watching her. 

She didn't know that he now had his eye on her.

Y/N didn’t believe in angels, especially not in guardian angels. 

She just didn't know yet, that she now had her very own, very special, guardian.

𓍯𓂃ᥫ᭡.

Thank you for reading! If you liked reading this little piece of fiction in any sense, I would be more than happy about a like, reblog, or a comment! I absolutely love this movie, and it’s a shame how they ended it. But I’m sure we will get a second part, with the way the last scene teased it. <3

Comment if you would like to be tagged in a potential part 2! Requests for this movie are open ۫ ꣑ৎ

Who wants a preview of part 2? Let me know here! .ᐟ>ᴗ<

Vote what my next fic should be about!

tag list: @yoihoshi-maki @kristinthegeek @zozoparsnips @mackenzielaw15 @lunaria1 @blobs-away @thaliasnicket @bakugousimpofawif3 @yoongiprongs @franbowidk @lorain07 @jetblackw1ngs @thesimppotato11 @aubreeiscool @ivorria @iamatinydinosaur

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or off-brand gossip girl.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ this is a day late because i was celebrating midsummer with my family yesterday <3 i hope you like it!!

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

"i was gonna go see her, but when i went to our meeting place, she was there with another guy, and left with him. then when i asked her about it, she lied. so i'm pretty sure he's hooking up with him and i'm the biggest fucking idiot on planet earth."

the gears in vivian's head turned, until the small smile on her lips slowly vanished when she finally realized why the story was so familiar. "holy shit." she mumbled, eyes as wide as saucers, "you're him."

"what?"

"you're MalachiConstant."

"how do you know about that?" rafe asked, his breath catching in his throat, "did she... she told you?"

"wait... you know who she is? like, her real identity?" vivian asked, the moment uncomfortably sobering for rafe, the boy looking away, "why haven't you told her?"

rafe sighs, turning to look out at the scenery in front of him, "you wouldn't get it." "well, stop being melodramatic and try to explain it to me." vivian rolled her eyes, making rafe let out a quiet chuckle.

"i'm afraid she's gonna think i'm a douchebag, or something." "she probably will. she can be judgmental." rafe's brows furrowed, "said with affection." vivian rolled her eyes, "but trust me, she judges herself a lot more than she judges anyone else. and trust me, she's not hooking up with anyone. it's adorably pathetic how obsessed she is with you."

"really?"

"i don't think i've ever seen her smile as much as she has after you two started talking. she's not good with guys, or even people in general but she really seems to like you. i have no idea what she sees in you, to be honest."

"gee, thanks." "but she's been overthinking a lot since you've been ghosting her. she's been going crazy worrying that you don't care about her and she ruined… whatever you two have going on. but rafe, i want you to seriously think this through. she doesn't trust people easily, and i don't want for her to have to go through heartbreak. so if you're just gonna… dump her when you get bored of her… please, just… let her be." vivian brought her hand to his shoulder. "cause if you hurt her, i'm cutting your dick off."

rafe let out a chuckle, nodding, "can i… ask you for a favor?" "no promises." "can you just… not tell her yet? just wait a bit until i feel like i can do it." "although i am fond of gossip, it's not my secret to tell." vivian took a chug out of her bottle, "but you should tell her soon. i think she deserves to know the identity of the random guy she's talked online who she's pretty much head-over-heels for. even if it's a douchebag like you." vivian grinned, stepping towards the patio door, "good night, no-longer-mystery guy." vivian's words make the boy snort, "night." he mumbled, the girl leaving the patio, unaware of the girl listening over to the conversation.

you were wrapped up in a blanket, 10 things i hate about you, you and vivian’s shared comfort movie playing on your laptop while angel was in your arms, the little kitty purring as you stroked her soft fur. you looked down at your phone, at all the texts vivian had ignored.

YOU: i'm so sorry.

YOU: i never should've said those things.

YOU: i was hurt and i took it out on you. it wasn't okay, but i hope you know how much i regret it. i miss you.

however, your wallowing in self pity was interrupted when you got a new notification from KildareUChats. you opened the app, your heart beating against your chest when you noticed that MalachiConstant had messaged you after a day of radiosilence.

MalachiConstant: im sorry ive been a dick MalachiConstant: and i miss you MalachiConstant: im drunk but im an idiot

you couldn't help the small smile that took over your lips, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. you kicked your feet against the mattress, letting out a quiet, excited squeal that caught angel's attention, "sorry." you mumbled, pressing a kiss on top of her head, before turning back to your phone, texting MalachiConstant back.

YOU: idiot. ❤️

you woke up to the sound of someone bursting into your room, your heart nearly beating out of your chest, until you noticed the flurry of pink hair entering your room, carrying white boxes that you immediately guessed were donuts.

"jesus, vivian!" you mumbled groggily, running a hand through your messy hair, "you scared me half to death…" "sorry, man." she giggled, putting the donuts down onto your bedside table, "i'm still a bit drunk from a party i went to last night." she crashed onto your bed, turning to look at you.

"i'm sorry about the things i said to you, viv." you frowned at her, your mind still groggy with sleep. the girl smiled, taking your hand in hers. "i'm sorry, too. boys are the stupidest thing to fight about. totally not worth it."

you chuckled softly, "well, speaking of boys…" "oh, god. mystery boy news?" "sorry, we don't have to talk about him if you don't want to." you feel your cheeks getting warm, vivian grabbing the box off the nightstand and placing it between you two; when she opened, your suspicions were proven correct. donuts. "if i'm gonna have to listen to your love life without yacking, i'm gonna need some donuts in me."

RAFE: hey

UNKNOWN: who dis?

RAFE: rafe RAFE: i asked top for your number

UNKNOWN: ok

RAFE: listen, i need some advice RAFE: should i ask her to meet up again?

UNKNOWN: jesus christ UNKNOWN: you asked top for my number for advice on my best friend?

RAFE: pls viv

VIVIAN: fine. then do it loser VIVIAN: and this time don't leave before she can get there. and tell top to not give out my number again.

rafe rolls his eyes and takes in a deep breath, going to KildareUChats, his heart racing in his chest; he types the message and erases it for about a thousand times, before he was finally satisfied with it, pressing enter before he could regret it.

MalachiConstant: hi, i know we were supposed to meet and i kinda fumbled it, but i wanted to ask if you'd be willing to try it again? i get it if it's too late but you can't blame a dude for trying. anyway lmk.

rafe's message was marked 'read' within seconds of him sending it; but several minutes ticked by with no response. maybe you were trying to find a way to let him down easy, or telling him you weren't interested… but soon enough, he got a response.

AnnabelLee: let's do it. monday, at 6pm in front of the fountain?

MalachiConstant: it's a date.

rafe ran a hand through his hair as he reread your message over and over again; he finally felt like he was ready to tell you who he was. even if things change.

monday morning came, but for some reason, you didn't feel nervous at all. if anything, it was like your stomach was bustling with butterflies, and you felt... ready to meet whoever you'd been chatting to online.

your earbuds were in your ears as you made your way towards your first lecture for the day, humming along to fleetwood mac's sara. you spotted vivian and zainab almost immediately, but the two girls didn't seem to notice you, too busy hunched over and looking at something on vivian's phone, giggles echoing around the classroom.

you made your way over to them, and as soon as you pulled your chair back, the two of them looked up at you in complete alarm. you let out a soft laugh, looking between the two with furrowed brows as you sat down, "who died?" but neither of your friends laughed, you started to feel unnerved, "did... did someone actually die?"

vivian and zainab shared a look, before sliding the girl's phone over to you. you picked it up, but as soon as you saw the screen, your blood ran cold. it was a post on KildareUBlindItems, and the subject was 'MalachiConstant'.

"what..."

'overheard at friday's party: football team captain and fraternity president with the initials r.c was telling a certain pink-haired party girl that he's secretly into some chick he met online who he hasn't even met. he goes by MalachiConstant. no one seems to know who the mystery girl is.'

your eyes widened as you re-read the post, starting to put the pieces together... you turned to look to vivian with your jaw clenched in anger, unable to bite your tongue.

"rafe cameron is MalachiConstant? and you knew?"

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[weeeyotch]

warnings: dark themes, possessiveness, controlling behavior, emotional manipulation, 18+ themes (mdni)

okay but…soft!dark!possessive!bob has been on my mind a lot recently.

like this man has been through everything—addiction, trauma, abuse, and being forgotten by the world over and over. but then he meets you, and suddenly it’s like his world is 100x brighter.

you make life liveable for him. you make things make sense.

you look at him like he’s good, like he’s safe. and for the first time, he believes that he is.

but he needs that. he needs you.

at first, it’s gentle.

lovely little café or bookstore dates. going to those movie theatres that show old movies for half the price of a normal ticket. he’d shower you with flowers, little hand-written notes, and say things like

“please stay a bit longer”

“i sleep better when you’re here”

but that softness that made you fall in love with him starts to turn sticky.

clingy.

obsessive.

it starts with a few extra texts.

where are you?

did you make it home safe? honey?

it's getting dark. maybe don't go to that party tonight. let's just stay in. i'll come over. we can make pasta. please?

you find his concern endearing in the beginning. given his past, you couldn't fault him for how he feels. he thinks that the world is dangerous, and the people in it more so.

"don't take the train, okay? that guy you mentioned at the station last week—he could be dangerous. just let me drive you."

"but you already went out with your friends yesterday. don't you think it's better to just stay home today?"

"the world is too dangerous for someone as sweet as you."

"i don't know what i'd do if something happened to you."

his voice still trembles whenever he says your name. he still holds onto you like you're the last good thing in a horribly broken world. but now, his grip is always a bit tighter around your waist. now, there's a fear that shines in his eyes—terrified that you might slip through his fingers if he blinks.

when you finally move in with him after he spent months convincing you, his love starts to swallow you whole.

there's no such thing as space. or quiet. or alone.

he calls you whenever you're out. wants to track your location "just in case". and by the time you come home, he's already waiting there with dinner, plans, and questions.

soon, he starts to become obsessed with your health—your sleep, your meals, your water intake, your screen time.

he wants to make sure that you're perfect.

he'll meal prep all of your meals, trying to make them as healthy as possible. he'll shoot you quiet, disapproving looks if he sees you eating too many cookies, chocolates, or chips.

"it's all fine in moderation, darling. but maybe you've had enough for now? let me cut up some fruits for you."

soon, his early bedtime becomes yours.

it starts off with him disguising it as needing to cuddle you so he can sleep.

you couldn't deny that it's flattering—being needed like that, being the thing that makes the nightmares go quiet.

but the requests get more insistent.

the "please come sleep with me" turns into "you always stay up so late" and then into

"you don't care about your health like i do."

"you keep pushing yourself and i have to watch it ruin you."

you don't even realize it's a rule until you break it.

you stay up past 10pm reading or gaming, just once, and the change in bob is unmistakable.

he doesn't reach for your hand the next morning.

doesn't kiss your forehead when he passes back your mug that he filled with steaming coffee.

he still brings you snacks, still folds your laundry with precision, still says "love you" before he leaves the apartment. but it's cold. practiced.

he never says he's punishing you. how could he be? he's still sickly sweet, just a bit. . .off.

yet the moment you crawl back into bed with him at 9:58pm, he softens again. arms open and voice tender.

like nothing happened.

"there she is. my good girl."

the passive aggressiveness stings more than a scream or slap ever could.

but it's okay, you tell yourself. this is real love.

that he just wants what's best for you.

right?

sex with him is slow. intense. all-consuming.

there's so much eye contact that it feels like he's trying to read you. he touches you like he's afraid you'll vanish, but holds onto you like a lifeline.

bob's clinginess transforms during these moments.

it metamorphoses into pure, unadulterated devotion and worship.

he'd make you cum on his tongue and fingers a minimum of three times before slowly pushing his cock into you. his thrusts are focused and steady, but they get more sloppy the closer he gets.

missionary is his favorite position. he just wants to see your face and the way your lips part as you get closer to the edge. sometimes he presses his ear against your mouth just to feel your hot breath or hear your little noises.

eventually, as that coil of pleasure is close to exploding deep within his belly, he'd change your position. he'd have you wrap your legs around his waist, using one arm to lift you and hold you against him while the other hand grips the headboard for stability.

the bed creaks under the effort. his muscles flex around you as his body feels like a wall—solid and unshakable.

his sheer strength always leaves you breathless. but it never frightens you.

it's just a reminder.

a reminder of what this man has survived.

what he's capable of.

the damage he's done.

the destruction he could cause.

but never to you. no, he would rather die than ever lay a finger on you.

so he gives you everything else instead.

his body, his strength, his desperation that bleeds into every thrust. the quiet groan of your name against your skin like a prayer. the way he shudders when you say his in return.

and when he finally falls apart, spilling into you with a low, broken sound, you wrap your arms around him and let him cling.

because that's all he's ever wanted.

to be held like he's still human.

to feel like he's worth saving.

to feel loved.

[kxsagi]

WAIIIIIt I have so many request bllk boys with someone who plays rough or is tough with them?? Pls pls Reo because he's rough sometimes 🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

“𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬”

a/n: ultraviolenceeeee

ft. mikage reo, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, kaiser michael, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, ness alexis

mikage reo

he's rough in games, yeah, but the first time you smacked his shoulder after he made a snarky comment, reo just blinked like did i just get manhandled?? by my crush?? 

you tackled him during a casual soccer scrimmage and instead of being mad, he was grinning like a lunatic, lying in the grass like: that was hot. 

he tries to get you back by shoving you playfully during practice, but the second you full-body slam him into a tree? he’s wheezing and in love. 

“you scare me sometimes.” “good.” “... but like in a sexy way.” 

will absolutely brag to nagi like “my girl kicked me in the shin today. true love.” 

nagi seishiro

does not fight back. won’t even dodge. 

you could smack him with a throw pillow, tackle him mid-hug, or steal the last piece of candy right out of his mouth, and nagi would just blink slowly and go “mmm. annoying. do it again.” 

he lies on you like you’re a body pillow and when you push him off with a “you’re heavy,” he flops back even harder. 

“ow.” “you didn’t even move.” “you’re comfy.” 

he finds your roughness kind of endearing, honestly. especially because it makes everyone else scared to mess with you. and he loves having a dangerous guard dog for a girlfriend. 

itoshi rin

you tackled him once while joking and he immediately turned to you with the deadest eyes and said: “... you’re lucky i like you.” 

that being said? he does like it. way too much. 

when you shove him out of your way, smack his arm for being dramatic, or yank his hoodie over his head mid-convo, rin is just there grumbling like a wet cat while secretly enjoying every second. 

if someone else touches him like that? murder. 

if you do it? he'll scowl, call you a menace, and then follow you around for the rest of the day like a broody little duck. 

“stop roughhousing.” “you didn’t tell me to stop yesterday.” “... shut up.”

shidou ryusei

his soulmate. 

you shoved him for saying something gross and he immediately perked up like a dog hearing a treat bag open. 

“oh? you wanna fight? i’m so turned on right now.” 

he 100% tries to get under your skin so you’ll rough him up. like he wants you to body slam him into the couch. 

“c’mon, princess, hit me again. harder this time. i won’t fall in love unless you draw blood.” 

will go around showing off scratches like badges of honor. “she did this. isn't she perfect?” 

he also never loses a chance to pick you up and yeet you into the pool/bed/couch. it’s mutual violence love. 

kaiser michael

in public? he plays along so well. you roughhouse him, shove him when he’s cocky, flick his forehead when he teases you, and kaiser just laughs like you’re his favorite game. 

he’ll smirk, catch your wrist mid-slap and go, “don’t stop, i like it rough,” like the walking menace he is. 

but in private, when the lights are low and no one’s watching, that’s when the cracks show. 

sometimes, after you playfully shove him or even jokingly raise your voice, something flashes behind his eyes. a beat of stillness. the way his shoulders go tense just for a second too long. 

and when you notice, when you pause, reach out, and touch his cheek gently, he melts. 

“you’re not mad, right?” he asks, too quietly. “i’m not.” “and you love me?” “always.” “… and you’re not gonna leave?” 

there are nights when he crawls into your arms without a word and just clings to you like a lifeline. presses his face into your neck like he’s trying to disappear. 

“i know you’re joking when you push me. i do. i know.” “but?” “but sometimes my brain doesn’t.” 

you learn to hold him tighter after the laughs fade. you learn the difference between when he wants to be wrestled and when he needs to be held. and in return, he trusts you in a way he never has before. 

“you’re the first person who can rough me up and keep me safe,” he whispers once, voice shaky, forehead pressed to yours.

isagi yoichi

he tries to be a good sport but he is so unprepared for your physical affection. 

you punch his arm playfully after a win and he straight-up staggers. 

you jump on his back and he makes the most dramatic noise. “agh– baby why– okay okay i got you!!” 

secretly loves it. his inner shonen heart is like: my strong, feisty gf… she's so cool… 

he starts going to the gym more because he wants to be able to handle your suplexes. 

“if you body slammed me in front of my enemies, i think i'd fall harder for you.” 

probably keeps bruises like love marks. "this one's from when she tackled me after practice. best day ever." 

itoshi sae

you shoved him once while teasing him and he turned his head soooo slowly like. did you just touch me unprovoked. 

what surprises him is that... it kinda awakens something in him. he’s always surrounded by people tiptoeing around him. you? you called him a smug little brat and kicked his shin after he said you couldn’t outrun him. 

he still looks perpetually done, but he keeps letting you manhandle him. “you’re violent.” “you’re smug.” “don’t stop.” 

if anyone else tried that? dead. but when you do it, he’ll let you poke his face, flick his ear, and drag him around by the wrist with the softest eye roll ever. 

and don’t let him catch someone trying to shove you – he’ll end their career in .02 seconds. only you can bully him like that. 

ness alexis

you shoved him once in the hallway and he fully gasped. 

“i’m delicate.” “you’re dramatic.” 

he keeps saying you’re bullying him, but he literally follows you around just to get roasted or shoulder-checked. 

the most likely to shriek “ABUSE” when you flick his forehead but then blush and giggle like “wait that was kinda fun.” 

he’s like a cat. will hiss at you, act like you’re the worst, then ten minutes later snuggle into your side all clingy. 

“i’m a lover, not a fighter.” “then stop poking my ribs when i’m eating.” “... make me.” 

loves that you’re tough and fearless, especially around kaiser. he watches you clap back at him and goes wow. she’s powerful. terrifying. i want her to step on me.

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[rose24207]

I think he loves you more than me now

Summary: When Suho asks his sweet, introverted girlfriend who works in women’s clothing for her employee discount to help his friend Sieun, the unexpected kindness she shows earns her not just gratitude—but Sieun’s rare and heartfelt approval as someone truly good for Suho.

Ahn Suho x reader

Part one

A/N: y’all someone jinxed me. I was almost fired today for no reason help. I think it’s the authors curse. It’s finally out to get me help

Navigation

You’re still working on the first floor of the department store—women’s clothing, where nothing stays hung for more than ten minutes, and every compliment about the mess sounds more like a personal attack.

“Wow,” one lady muttered today, crinkling her nose at a blouse someone else had thrown on the floor. “You’d think someone worked here.”

You just smiled politely, the same way you always do. You’ve learned it’s not worth correcting them. Instead, you hang the blouse back up, smooth its sleeves, and continue folding shirts in the same gentle rhythm.

You’ve changed a little since Suho came into your life—well, not changed, more like grown into yourself. You’re still quiet, still introverted, still way too shy to make small talk unless it’s with someone over the age of sixty or a mannequin. But you’ve also learned to hold your head a little higher. You still hide behind your bangs sometimes, but now your lips twitch into a smile every time you remember Suho holding your hand behind the store and whispering:

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world.”

You’d nearly combusted.

This afternoon, Suho comes into the store looking stressed, his dark brows pinched and his school bag barely hanging onto one shoulder.

He weaves through the perfume counters, then the purses, skips the escalator, and takes the stairs two at a time.

You spot him before he even notices you, and you straighten the display quickly so it looks like you weren’t just admiring his walk.

He finally finds you near the cardigans.

“Babe,” he breathes, all flustered. “Do you… do you have your discount card on you?”

You blink, confused. “Uh, yeah? It’s in my pouch—why?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking awkward for the first time since he met you. “It’s for Sieun. His shirt got ripped yesterday.”

Your eyes widen. “Ripped?”

“Bullies,” Suho mutters. “Some jerks at school. He didn’t want to tell me, but I saw the tear. Got it out of him. Then I told him we’re coming here, ‘cause you work here and you have that magic card of wonders.”

You chuckle softly. “It’s not magic, it’s a 30% employee discount.”

“Same thing,” he says with a smirk. Then, quieter: “You don’t mind, right?”

You shake your head. “Of course not. For you? For your friend? Anytime.”

He grins and kisses your forehead before dashing back upstairs. You watch him go, warmth curling in your chest.

A few minutes later, you spot them. Suho’s voice, animated and teasing, echoes down from the second floor. He’s pointing at something in the men’s section while another boy—shorter, quieter—stands with crossed arms, clearly unimpressed.

That must be Sieun.

You’ve never met him before, but Suho’s mentioned him lots of times.

"He doesn’t talk much."

"He’s insanely smart."

"He sees through everyone, like he’s reading your mind."

Also: "He never likes my girlfriends. But he will like you. I know it."

Sieun looks like someone who keeps his guard up by default. His expression is unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line. His uniform shirt is neatly ironed despite the tear Suho mentioned. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who asks for help.

But when they come down the escalator—with a couple of neatly folded shirts and a plain navy hoodie draped over his arm—you offer them your softest smile.

“Found everything?” you ask gently.

Suho nods and waves Sieun forward. “Go on.”

Sieun hesitates, then steps up and places the items on the counter. “Thank you,” he says, voice quiet but sincere. “I… appreciate this.”

You shake your head lightly. “No need to thank me. Suho told me what happened. I’m really sorry that happened to you.”

Sieun’s eyes flicker up to yours. You expect him to shut down, but instead, something in his expression softens. Maybe it’s the way you’re not making a big deal out of it.

Maybe it’s how your voice is calm, not pitiful. He watches you ring everything up, nimble fingers tapping on the register, checking tags and scanning like second nature.

“You’re fast,” he says suddenly.

You glance up, blinking. “Huh?”

“At this,” he says, nodding to the register. “You’re good at your job.”

It’s not flattery. It’s an observation. You smile a little, flustered. “Thank you.”

You hand him the final price—with your discount applied, of course—and bag the clothes neatly while Suho chats beside you about school, complaining about math. You catch Sieun watching you carefully, thoughtfully. Not in a creepy way, but more like… analyzing.

Later, after they leave, Suho texts you from the bus.

Suho 🤺: he likes u
Suho 🤺: he literally said “she’s not fake”
Suho 🤺: THATS A BIG DEAL
Suho 🤺: i think ur in the circle of trust now

You laugh so hard you nearly drop a stack of scarves.

A few days later, Sieun comes back. Alone. No Suho.

You spot him wandering the second floor and wave at him from across the balcony. He seems a little unsure of himself but eventually makes his way down.

“Suho had work,” he says as you approach. “But I needed another shirt. I didn’t want to go to another store.” I didn’t trust another worker with my cloths.

You smile at him, motioning for him to show you. “Want help finding it?”

He nods slowly. “If it’s not a bother.”

You lead him upstairs and help him check the racks. He’s surprisingly polite, following behind you like a quiet shadow.

You’re not sure what it is—maybe it’s his silence, or the way he watches things like he’s constantly solving a puzzle—but you find yourself talking a little more than usual.

“This one’s the same cut as the one you liked, but in black,” you say, holding a hanger up to the light. “I can check in the system to see if they still have the beige one, though.”

He nods, studying the shirt. “Black is fine. I trust your taste.”

You blink, a little caught off guard. “Oh.”

“I didn’t mean that to be weird,” he adds quickly. “Just that Suho’s style is… chaotic. Yours is calm. Balanced.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, he’s a little all over the place.”

Sieun looks at you, and for the first time, you see the hint of a smile tug at his lips. “But it works for him. He’s happier now.”

You glance at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nods. “He’s calmer. He jokes more. He used to get into fights all the time, not just with other kids, but with himself. Like he didn’t know where to put all the emotion. But ever since you… it’s like he found an anchor.”

Your throat tightens slightly. You weren’t expecting that.

“I didn’t do anything special,” you murmur.

“You did,” Sieun says, voice steady. “You’re kind. And consistent. He needed that.”

There’s a silence between you two—but it’s not awkward. It’s peaceful.

When you finish ringing up his items, he takes the bag with a short bow. “Thank you again.”

You smile softly. “Anytime, Sieun-ssi.”

As he turns to leave, he pauses. Then, without looking back, he adds, “For the record, I never liked any of his past girlfriends. But you…” He hesitates, then nods. “You’re different.”

Your cheeks burn with warmth as he disappears into the crowd.

That evening, Suho bursts into your messages again.

Suho 🤺: SIEUN TOLD ME WHAT HE SAID
Suho 🤺: do you know how BIG that is
Suho 🤺: he called you “consistent” 😭😭😭
Suho 🤺: I think he loves you more than me now

Wifey 🛍️: I just gave him a discount and helped him find shirts 💀
Wifey 🛍️: It’s not that deep

But deep down… it feels kind of amazing.

A week later, Sieun comes back again—this time with Suho. Suho‘s goofing off, nearly pushing Sieun into a rack near the escalator, but Suho stops to wrap an arm around your shoulders.

“My girl,” he says proudly, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “You ready to discount us into fashion icons again?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile says everything.

Sieun shakes his head but smiles softly. “Honestly, I only come here now for the service.”

And you know, without question, you’re not just Suho’s girlfriend anymore. You’re part of the circle. Fully, finally, warmly in.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane, @stxr-lilac, @geumseongjelicker, @itzzezraa

[writtenbylandaur]

------☆ sunday streams ☆------

no lando stream can do without chaos

Lando's perched up streaming for the second time this year, Y/n was working in the living room but could hear Connor and Lando bantering every now and then.

She went in there to check a few times or just turned his stream on to tease in the chat. She was watching when she saw Lando take his shirt off, and hid behind the camera a little, his head peeking out.

She stood up and walked in immediately, Lando and Connor turned around as she walked up to Lando's seat, "Put your shirt back on." Y/n narrows her eyes at him. Connor laughs, while Lando just smirks, "Are you jealous?" He asks.

"I am not, it's just inappropriate." She whispers.

"Sure baby," He teases, not moving to put the shirt back on, "It got too hot in here." He adds.

"Put the shirt back on." She repeats, "Chat, it's not that hot, by the way." She bends down to peek at the camera.

"Aren't you the same girl who told me not to wear a shirt when cooking yesterday?" He asks,

"You have never cooked, you liar." Y/n snorts.

"She is lying, I cooked her dinner yesterday, dinner I couldn't eat it, but I still cooked." Lando muses, then he places his shirt on the table, "She loved it, if the reward aft-

"Lando shut the fuck up!" Connor and Y/n screech, making Lando giggle.

He wraps an arm around Y/n's waist, "Tell them you loved it."

"Put your shirt back on."

He tickles her waist, "Tell them you loved the chicken parma."

Y/n picks the shirt up, "Put it oooon Lando,"

Lando giggles, kissing her cheek, "Fine, because you look pretty."

He puts the shirt on, and rolls his eyes, "Happy?"

"Very." Y/n kisses his cheek but then stops, "Did you stain the shirt?"

"Yeah... it was an accident, that's why I took it off..."

"You took it off on the stream because you spilled something on it." She questions

"I am not wearing a dirty tshirt."

"So no shirt is the way to go?"

"Weren't you the one who told me you like me without the shirt?" Lando asks, making Connor groan,

"Weren't you the one who was shy to take your shirt off when we went to the beach last time?"

Lando gasps, not expecting Y/n to fight back, "Weren't you the one who came into my stream and told me to put my shirt back on?" He asks

"Aren't you the guy that cheated on Wizard Liz?"

Connor laughs, when Lando groans, "I didn't cheat on anyone, I don't even know who that is."

"Sure, thats not what the comments say buddy." Connor says, making Y/n turn around to face him and laugh.

Lando pulls Y/n closer, pulling her down to his lap, "This is my girlfriend, only girlfriend, and I would NEVER cheat on her." Y/n giggles when Lando kisses her cheek. "So fuck off with those comments on my Monaco win."

"That was kinda attractive." Y/n whispers,

"Brother.... get a rooom!" Connor groans, rolling his eyes.

"Technically this is my house so we already got a room." Lando responds, he leans on Y/n's shoulder as he checks his inventory before a raid.

"When does that logic get old?" A voice comes from Lan's headset,

"I forgot you were playing with Max for a second there." Y/n giggles.

"I think he just came back from afk." Lando explains.

"Yes I am back so can we start a raid already?" He asks.

"Can we ditch them?" Y/n teases

"Sure what do you want to do?" Lando asks immediately

"Hello?" Max and Connor echo, making Y/n chuckle.

"I'm joking." Y/n smiles, Lando pouts, "I would leave if you told me to."

"I know." Y/n pats his shoulder as she stands up, "I have work to do anyway, so I don't need you distracting me."

"She is so hot, booked and busy chat, my breadmaker." Lando exaggerates.

"Shut up you knob." Y/n slaps the back of his head and makes to leave, "If you guys need anything let me know."

She recieves a nod and hum as response and she leaves.

Lando looks dead into the chat after reading their messages, "Chat stop flirting with my girlfriend, she is taken."

-----

It had been thirty minutes, Y/n was trying to figure out how to fix the shelf she accidentally broke because of excess weight, she forgot she was stood on a stool so she tries to move but slips, and falls loudly, the shelf she was holding falling next to her, making a banging sound.

Lando never puts his headset fully on when Y/n's home so he jumps when he hears that sound, immediately standing up, Connor engrossed in the game didn't hear the sound but looked at Lando when he stood up. "Y/n? Babe?" Lando yells as he runs out of his stream room to check on her.

He walks into the kitchen to see Y/n slowly sitting up, he runs up to her, kneeling as he stops her, resting his hand on her shoulder. "What happened? Are you okay?" He asks,

Y/n just groans, hiding her face in his neck, "I am fine, just embarrassed."

"I'll give you space." Connor reads the room and walks back to the room.

"Where are you hurt?"

"Lando, stop fussing."

"Where does it hurt Y/n." He asks again, helping her up. She tries to hide it but groans in pain.

"Okay it hurts alot." She whispers, sniffling.

"Baby, where?" He asks, cupping her cheek.

"My back and neck hurt pretty bad, my ankles just hurt a little."

Lando nods, kissing her cheek, as he guides her to the couch, "What were you doing anyway?" He asks as he goes back to find the first aid things Y/n stocks for him.

Y/n doesn't answer, a little embarrassed as she notices Lando look at the discarded shelf near where she fell.

Lando put two and two together, as he walked up to the couch, "You have a very capable boyfriend, you know that right?" He asks, checking her ankle for her.

Years of racing has made him good at knowing when injuries are serious or just ice worthy, "It's not a sprain." He mumbles.

He inspects her back and neck too, "Nothing a massage from LN4 can't fix," Lando tries, hoping Y/n would crack a smile. He presses an ice pack on her ankle, making her wince, "Take it off it's cold." Lando doesn't listen, just kisses her cheek.

He used both his hands to press ice on her ankle and back, gently rubbing at times too.

"Aren't you supposed to be streaming?" Y/n asked, when Lando takes the ice pack away from her back, "Aren't you supposed to be letting your boyfriend fix shelves?" Lando quips, in a teasing manner.

Y/n rolls her eyes, "Shut up."

"Feeling better?" He asks, tracing her ankle with his thumb, Y/n nods, "I am sorry."

"For what?" Lando confusedly asks,

"For interrupting you stream and embarrassing you infront of steam and Con."

Lando sighs, kissing her lips, hard. "Don't ever talk about my girlfriend like that again."

-----

"Hi chat, sorry for ending the stream early, I need to look after my beautiful girlfriend, if that's okay." Lando pauses, exiting off Tarkov, "Thank you so much for joining, I really appreciate it, also waiting for me while I was afk. Thank you for your support team, I will now go partake in boyfriend activities. Love you-

"You can't end stream on that note!" A voice interrupts him, "Connor and Max are still playing, and I am fine."

"Too bad I already switched off the game," Lando leans back to smirk at his girlfriend.

"I am sorry stream," Y/n apologizes placing her palms on Lando's chair and looking down at his lean backed figure, "He is a bit overdramatic, this one."

"See you next time," Lando smiles as he sits up, switching stream off.

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

like and comment or reblog <3.

im just starting my writing grind so i reallly hope you enjoy this!!!!!!! please let me know what you think :)

[crazziforazzi]

Red Jersey

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

One shot

Warning: MDNI, Possessive!P, Mild dom/sub dynamics

A/N: This started out as a cute little post-game one-shot I drafted after the match… then I went to work, came back, and rewrote it into whatever this is now. I will now be closing my laptop and pretending this never happened, okay? We don’t talk about it.

But in my defense, I did promise to deliver something if P dropped 20. Next time I’m betting on 25+

Word Count: 4k words

Azzi Fudd was in big fucking trouble.

Not the catastrophic, relationship-on-the-line kind of trouble. More the you knew what you were doing and now you’re dealing with the consequences kind. The kind of trouble where your girlfriend doesn’t raise her voice, doesn’t throw a fit, she just misses three open layups in the first half of a game she should be dominating and avoids eye contact the whole time.

That kind of trouble stung, because it meant Paige was actually upset. And Azzi couldn’t even say she hadn’t earned it.

It had started with the post. Their hard launch, yesterday. Paige had known it was coming, they’d even laughed about the case together when it arrived in the mail. She’d said Azzi could post it whenever she felt ready. Azzi had felt ready. Paige, apparently, had felt… too busy to react.

Sure, they had agreed Azzi would be the one to go public first, to slowly place the signs for their fans. But she hadn’t expected complete silence from her girlfriend. No like, no repost, not even their pink heart emoji. Just…nothing.

And that silence? It annoyed the hell out of her.

And she knew it was stupid. She knew Paige was barely online these days. She knew that one like didn’t matter when her girlfriend made sure she woke up to a good morning text every single day, and treated her like a princess whenever they were together. But still, Azzi liked to be claimed. In every way possible.

So yeah, maybe Azzi was feeling a little petty when she showed up to the Wings-Mystics game today. 

Her hair was still perfect from the event she’d been at the day before. Her natural makeup hit just right. She even pulled on the jeans Paige loved and decided on a cropped white UConn shirt that left just enough abs and her piercing peeking out. She looked good. Hot, even. First official WAG game and she was showing up for it.

But when she was greeted by Georgia Amoore instead of her own girlfriend first, with a cheeky grin and a "You want this?" Azzi caught the jersey, smiled, and pulled it on right over her tank top without missing a beat.

Okay, maybe she paused for a second. But only because she knew Paige would be annoyed. Her girlfriend was way too possessive for this kind of shit.

Which made her do it anyway.

She’d barely been sitting for a few minutes, casually chatting with the girl next to her, when she saw them. Or more accurately, felt it first. The stare.

When she looked up, Paige and Arike were jogging toward the sideline for warmups. Paige wasn’t even trying to hide the glare. Azzi met her eyes across the court and raised her brows, all faux innocence, like what? Someone else gave it to me.

She didn’t expect Paige to actually come over to her side of the court. But she did.

With Arike flanking her, both of them bouncing the balls casually as they strolled toward Azzi’s section like they had no other place to be. Paige didn’t say anything right away. She just gave her that look. The one that said 

You think you are funny, huh?

"Interesting jersey choice," Arike said with a sly grin, clearly enjoying the drama way too much.

"Georgia said she didn’t want it getting wrinkled on the bench," Azzi shot back smoothly. "I’m just doing her a favor."

"Mhm," Paige murmured, eyes flicking up and down slowly. "Bet she appreciated that."

Azzi tilted her head, playful. "Bet you noticed."

That earned her a look. Paige didn’t respond though,—just turned back to warm up again with Arike, glancing over at Azzi every once in a while before shaking her head. Each time, Azzi just smiled back sweetly, all charm and no remorse.

Now it was halftime, and Azzi sat very still in her seat, Georgia’s red jersey still on, and maybe regretting everything, just a little.

Paige had gone 1-for-6 in the second quarter alone. She’d gotten beat on defense twice, once by Citron, and passed up an open three just to dish to Smith, who wasn’t even ready for it. It was a turnover.

It was bad, like noticeably bad. The kind of bad that made sports Twitter start asking if something was wrong.

Azzi chewed the inside of her cheek, eyes fixed on the Wings bench. Paige was pacing in front of the seats, towel draped over her shoulders, head down. She wasn’t even pretending to be composed anymore. Nalyssa tried to say something to her. Paige just nodded and looked up, directly at Azzi. And Azzi… flinched.

Shit.

This wasn’t what she meant to do. This was supposed to be fun. 

Azzi thought she’d fire Paige up. That it’d get her locked in. She thought Paige would come out swinging, torch the Mystics for daring to even flirt with the idea of taking what was hers. She thought Paige would have the kind of game where she dropped 25 just to spite the Mystics, the kind of night that ended with her backing Azzi against the door as soon as they got to the hotel room and saying mine in every possible way.

That was what Azzi had expected. A little fuel. A little bite. 

Not throwing off her game. Not making her doubt everything.

Azzi tugged at the collar of the jersey, suddenly very aware of how obvious it was. Bright red. Amoore #8. 

Cute… if you weren’t Paige Bueckers watching your girlfriend flaunt someone else’s name across her chest less than 24 hours after hard launching your relationship.

She chewed her lip as the players made their way into the tunnel. Paige didn’t look up once. Not toward the bench. Not toward the crowd. Certainly not toward Azzi.

Azzi had wanted a reaction. Just… not this one.

This wasn’t the fun kind of jealousy. This wasn’t Paige rising to the moment and proving a point. This was Paige shutting down, overthinking, spiraling, playing like she was stuck in her own head.

And Azzi, still stubborn, still too proud to admit it out loud, was starting to realize that maybe she’d misjudged the line between teasing and testing.

She slouched lower in her seat, elbow on the armrest, chin buried in her palm. 

She decided to open the group chat. UConn Huskies 💙💍. 

It had been buzzing with activity all game, mostly with playful jabs and updates. A few GIFs. Some exaggerated "OOPS" messages after Paige’s third turnover. Classic KK.

Azzi didn’t even want to scroll down to see the vote percentages. She knew what option was winning. Judging by Jana’s flame emojis and Sarah’s unhelpful "👀👀👀," her teammates were thriving off this chaos.

And then there it was:

KK: "New poll: What should Azzi do to fix being a dick and wearing the enemy’s jersey?"

Option 1: Beg for forgiveness after the game.

Option 2: Buy new shoes for lil Paigey.

Option 3: Put on that lingerie she packed and wait in the hotel room for Big Daddy Bueckers.

She exhaled, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Do I defend myself? 

The silence lasted maybe thirty seconds. Then the floodgates opened.

Finally, she typed:

Azzi: Okay but… do you guys actually think she’s mad at me?

The words hit her like a slap. And suddenly, all the teasing and jersey-stunting didn’t feel worth it. Not if Paige was hurt. Not if she was second-guessing herself. Not if Azzi did that.

Sarh: Girl.

Morgan: She is mad.

KK: I’d be mad. I am mad. You look like you are repping Georgia like y’all go way back 😭

Caroline: Azzi, you literally hard launched yesterday and then pulled the most passive aggressive side chick stunt of all time 💀

Sarah: Also. She missed a layup which she almost never does. What do you think?"

She stared at her phone, jaw tight. No more playing it cool. She had to fix this.

She opened Paige’s contact, stared at the empty message window, hen finally typed:

Babe, are you ok?

Read, almost Immediately. 

But nothing else. No bubble. Just that quiet little confirmation that Paige saw it, and still wasn’t ready to say anything back.

Azzi’s chest tightened. She glanced to make sure her dad wasn’t watching, took a breath, and typed the kind of message that might break through. The kind that usually worked when normal words weren’t enough. The kind that brought Possessive Paige out of hiding.

It was her asking for a second chance in Paige’s language.

Can you please come out and show them why, even if I wear someone else’s name on my back right now, I only ever moan yours when we get home?

Remind me who I belong to. I’ll be good for you when you do. Promise.

She hit send and was ready to see the effect.

Azzi sat on edge the entire second half—barely blinking, barely breathing—silently praying Paige would settle in. The arena was loud, tense, alive with every possession, but all Azzi could hear was her pulse hammering in her ears. Her hands were clenched in her lap, fingers curled tight in the hem of Georgia’s jersey. She hadn’t sent another message after that last one—but she didn’t need to.

Because Paige had read it. And now Paige was responding.

It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t pretty. She was getting double-teamed off the inbound, blitzed every time she touched the ball, and still not getting much help. But she was fighting. Hard. Every floater came with a shoulder dipped through contact. Every pass was threaded like a dare. Every drive ended with her hitting the floor and popping back up like it just fueled her.

Azzi didn’t move. She just watched.

By the final stretch, Paige had clawed her way to 13 points. And then, with just seconds left in regulation, she pulled off a screen and hit a cold-blooded three to tie the game and send it to overtime.

Azzi shot up before the ball even dropped through the net, hands in the air, mouth wide, screaming without thinking. Pride surged through her like a flood. She was full of relief and awe and love. This was her girl.

And then Paige turned. She didn’t look at her teammates. She didn’t even glance at the bench. She looked straight at Azzi.

Their eyes locked across the chaos, and Azzi’s whole body went still. Paige didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. She just stared, held her there, then lifted her hand and pointed. One deliberate motion, right at her chest. Right at the red jersey.

You are mine.

Azzi’s heart stuttered so violently it nearly made her dizzy. Paige’s eyes burned into her with a promise so sharp it almost hurt. It said, You wanted a reaction? You got it. Now get ready for what’s coming.

Azzi looked down and suddenly couldn’t stand the feel of the jersey she was wearing. The red. The number 8. The smug little game she thought she’d been playing. It felt like wearing someone else’s skin. 

Her fingers flew to the hem and yanked it over her head, not caring who saw, not thinking about the cameras or Georgia or anyone else. She folded it once, maybe out of guilt, maybe just habit, and set it down behind her on the seat like it was something she no longer had permission to wear.

Azzi froze in place, heart stuttering. She didn’t even realize she was still wearing the red jersey until she looked down and suddenly hated it all over again. Her fingers yanked at the hem and she pulled it over her head like it was on fire, not caring if the arena cameras caught it or if Georgia saw. She couldn’t keep it on anymore.

When she looked up again, Paige was mid-huddle, sweat slick on her skin, hair damp, jaw tight but her eyes were still on Azzi. She’d seen the jersey come off. Of course she had. She was waiting for it.

And now she looked at Azzi like she was taking inventory. Her eyes dragged over Azzi’s now-bare shoulders, her fitted white UConn crop top, the deep rise and fall of her chest as she tried to catch her breath. And then, so subtle it almost didn’t register, Paige nodded.

It wasn’t a "thank-you" or a "you’re off the hook" nod.

No.

It was more of a a good girl nod. A that’s more like it nod. A you’re-in-so-much-trouble-later-and-I-hope-you-know-it nod.

Azzi sank back into her seat, suddenly hyper aware of every part of her body. Her pulse raced, her throat dry, her skin flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the arena lights. It was anticipation, pure want. The dizzy, sweet ache of having poked the wrong version of the bear and realizing, too late, that the bear liked being poked.

She tried to steady her breathing, tried to look composed, but she already knew.

She was in trouble. The kind of trouble that would show up in slow drips of sweat down the back of her thighs later, with Paige hovering over her until Azzi was begging for release.

And god, she deserved every second of it.

Overtime didn’t go how Azzi had hoped.

It started well enough. Paige hit a tough two right off the jump, then James came up with a steal and fed her for another clean finish at the rim. The Wings had momentum, briefly. But as always, without structure, without support, it crumbled fast. Missed switches, bad spacing, no real plan. And even Paige, locked in and pushing through, couldn’t hold the whole team together on her own.

Still, she fought. She always did. And she still finished with 20 points. Came damn close to a triple-double  through sheer willpower alone. She didn’t quit. She just ran out of hands.

The crowd emptied quickly after the final buzzer. People were already halfway to the parking lot by the time Azzi stood from her seat. Paige stayed behind, as always. She signed every poster, took every selfie with the kids pressed against the railing, even as her body sagged a little under the weight of the loss. Her smile was tired, but it was still there. Her shoulders tense, but still straight. That was Paige. Win or lose, she showed up.

Azzi watched all of it from courtside, the red jersey balled up in her hand now. It didn’t feel like a statement anymore, just a mistake she was ready to be rid of.

She made her way across the court toward Georgia, who was still near the bench, smirking like she’d just watched a live drama unfold and maybe enjoyed it a little too much.

"Thanks for the loan," Azzi said lightly, holding it out.

Georgia accepted it with a grin and a quick once-over that lingered a beat too long. "Anytime," she said, flicking her gaze over Azzi’s shoulder, straight toward Paige, who was still watching. Still tracking. "Though I gotta say... it looked better on you than it ever did on me."

Azzi didn’t dignify that with anything more than a tight smile, already turning away.

She lingered by the baseline with Lili and Amari, pretending to laugh, letting the noise of the court fade around her. She didn’t check her phone. She didn’t need to. She knew Paige would come to her.

And she did.

Azzi felt it before she saw it and then an arm wrapped around her from behind, firm and familiar, dragging her a step off balance.

Azzi didn’t resist. Her body fell into Paige’s without hesitation, like it had been waiting for permission. Her shoulder pressed under Paige’s jaw, her back tucked tight against her chest, and for a second, she just stood there. Breathing, absorbing. 

Paige smelled like heat and sweat and the same damn perfume Azzi had been sleeping in when she missed her too much. She hadn’t realized how much she missed this, Paige’s weight on her, the sense of being held intentionally, not just lovingly but fully possessed.

And Paige? She didn’t say hello. She didn’t ask. She just held her there, one hand gripping her waist, the other resting low on her hip, fingers splayed like a warning sign to anyone watching.

Mine.

Then Paige looked down at her with that maddeningly smug smile. "You really think you can wear someone else’s name on your back and not answer for it?"

Azzi blinked up at her, breath stuttering. "I thought it would get you fired up," she admitted. "That you’d…y’know, prove a point. On the court."

"Oh, I did," Paige murmured, eyes unblinking. "And now I’m going to prove the rest of it. Not here. Not in front of all these people. But you are going to pay for it."

Azzi swallowed. Her entire body responded to that tone, it was low and clipped. The kind of tone that promised she’d be lucky to walk straight tomorrow.

"I mean," she tried to deflect, voice lighter, "you’ve definitely made your point already…"

Paige didn’t even blink. "No. That was the warm-up."

Before Azzi could say another word, a voice behind them groaned dramatically.

"Oh my god. You two still lookl disgustingly obsessed with each other. Nothing’s changed."

Paige didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look away.

"Disgusting and exclusive," she said coolly, her voice dropping to a murmur as she leaned down, close enough that only Azzi could hear the rest. "And territorial as hell. Keep that in mind when I have you face-down tonight."

Azzi’s breath caught. Her heart forgot how to beat. Paige straightened like nothing had happened, throwing a casual wave toward a passing staffer.

Azzi just stood there, blinking like she'd been hit by a truck. One that smelled like sweat and victory and consequences.

She’d pushed. Paige had pulled.

And now she was in so much trouble. And she loved every second of it.

By the time they finally started heading out, the arena was almost entirely empty besides the staff cleaning up. Azzi had Paige’s gym bag slung over one shoulder, ignoring the way Paige kept glancing down at it with an expression that practically screamed give it to me. But Azzi just shook her head.

"No," Azzi said firmly, swatting her hand away. "Absolutely not. You carried the team tonight. You played forty minutes and got a bruised knee. The least I can do is carry your bag."

Paige narrowed her eyes. "Azzi—"

"Babe," Azzi cut in sweetly. "Let me be a good girlfriend and carry your stuff for once. You always carry mine."

Still, she muttered under her breath the entire walk to the parking lot, and Azzi caught enough of it to know that "good girlfriend" was going to be revisited. Thoroughly. Later.

When they reached the car, Azzi popped the trunk and turned to grab the keys from her back pocket, but Paige was already standing there, palm extended. Silent and Expectant. 

Azzi met her eyes and couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her lips. She dropped the keys into Paige’s hand like she was surrendering something more than just a fob.

"I may carry your stuff," she said, saccharine sweet, "but I’m not giving up passenger princess treatment."

Paige cocked her head, that sharp smile slowly spreading. "You are really pushing your luck and my limits tonight, princess."

"Pushing," Azzi echoed, already sliding into the passenger seat. "Not over it."

"Yet," Paige murmured.

They shut the doors almost in sync, the cabin falling into soft darkness. The air shifted, quiet and charged. No noise, no lights, no crowd. Just them. Paige’s hands on the wheel. Azzi practically vibrating beside her.

And Possessive Paige finally alone with her girl.

Paige turned toward her without a word, eyes sharp in the shadows, and reached out slowly, like she’d been holding back for too long and was finally ready to take. Her fingers found Azzi’s jaw, curling under it, her thumb brushing up the line of her cheekbone, firm and unhurried. She guided her in like gravity, lips brushing once, soft and purposeful, then again, deeper, hungrier, heat blooming between them.

"I missed you, baby," Paige murmured against her mouth, voice low and possessive, the baby nearly swallowed by how close they were.

Azzi let out a whimper, high and helpless, her fingers already clawing at the back of Paige’s neck, tangling into the damp curls stuck to her nape. She pulled her in again, harder this time—mouths crashing, breath catching, her legs shifting to pull Paige closer over the console. Their kisses turned messy fast. All tongue, teeth, gasps. Azzi made a small, broken sound every time Paige tugged at her bottom lip. 

It had only been two days, but with the month before that hollowed out by travel and tension and late-night missed calls, it felt like she was kissing life back into her lungs.

Paige leaned in harder, pinning Azzi into the seat. Azzi folded under her without resistance, knees parting, one thigh pressing up against the console. Paige's hand slid from her jaw down to her throat, thumb pressing right beneath her jawline. Azzi’s breath stuttered, eyes fluttering shut. Her whole body pulsed under Paige’s touch.

She was already shaking.

Paige didn’t stop kissing her until she felt it, felt how gone Azzi was. Then she pulled back just slightly, hovering above her, lips swollen, eyes black with promise. Her hand never left Azzi’s throat. She didn’t squeeze. She didn’t have to. The weight of it was enough.

Her smirk was slow, calculated, absolutely devastating.

"I haven’t forgotten about your little stunt," she said, voice low and deliciously cruel. "You think just because you handed the jersey back, you’re off the hook that you are a good girl again?"

Azzi’s pupils blew wide. Her breath hitched so sharp it was almost a gasp. She swallowed, her whole body taut with anticipation, thighs squeezing together without permission.

Paige leaned in closer, lips grazing her jawline, her voice dropping into something even darker. She was all breath and threat, velvet and warning.

"You’re not getting off easy tonight. You want to play games in public? You want to wear someone else’s name on your back and act like you don’t know who you belong to?"

Azzi whimpered, hips twitching upward like she could grind against the air. She was panting now, eyes dazed, hands tightening into Paige’s hoodie like an anchor.

"You’re mine," Paige growled against her ear. "And you’re gonna remember that for days."

Azzi couldn’t speak. She just nodded, desperate and shaking.

Paige kissed her once more, harsh and claiming, then pulled back, just far enough to look her in the eye.

"First I’m going to hold you down and make you scream my name over and over again until it’s the only one left in your head. And then I’m going to make sure your thighs are too sore to pull another stunt like that for a long time."

Azzi made a sound that was half-moan, half-plea. Her head fell back against the headrest, lips parted, eyes dazed.

"I’m serious," Paige said, softer now, but no less threatening. "I’m not going to rush it. You’re going to feel every second of it. And you’re going to thank me when it’s over."

Azzi’s voice finally broke through, wrecked and trembling. "Yes. Please."

Paige smiled, dark, satisfied, cruel in the way only someone who loved you could be before pulling away and starting the car.

Azzi Fudd was in big fucking trouble. She was about to pay for every second she spent in that red jersey. And god, she couldn’t wait.

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 12

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.6k

cw: angst, very vague allusions to self harm, semi-crash out from em i guess (?), hurt/comfort technically, yearning tbh, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns (i try to avoid that but sorry), im getting really casual with these content warnings, mostly bc i think no one reads what i actually write up here

Synopsis: While you talk with Rafayel, Sylus gets a visit from someone he thought had disappeared. (i’m bad at synopses)

author’s note: this took me a little longer to put out so im sorry >_< im really looking forward to writing zayne next though! then caleb and then its reader and em again and its gonna get crazy and then im gonna put up a poll so y’all can decide how i end it! i hope y’all are excited lol im getting closer to the end and its making me kinda sad cause i love this series but i have multiple ideas for different series so i might have multiple ongoing after this <3

taglist: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail @junebuggz @mangooes @anatherone @skulzooka @yuhuahuaaa @nm4565natty @feikyuu @lunia-likes-pomegranet @xfangirl-trashx @glitterykingdomangel @eialovescats @mimiu3usoft @alyssac9 @000rpheus @novaisbebita @coffeedragonhobbyist @udejoenrlddo @lanxianschoenheit @paper--angel @xyzbeloved @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @myheartfollower @nightmarewasteland @feralwolfkat @junni-berry @chiikasevennn @lethalasylum @loudpiratepirate @sweetnightowl @rafaissance @white-wolves-and-golden-sunrises @iunse @asilaydead

Series Masterlist

Onychinus’s base was quiet. Its occupants were comfortably off fulfilling their own tasks, no last-minute crises disrupting them. An unexpected peace settled, though an air of anticipation filled the space.

Sylus had been eyeing the door since you left this morning. Just like he had when you left yesterday.

He knew he shouldn’t worry. He knew you could handle yourself.

He also knew he was going to worry anyway.

You came to him after your talk with Xavier last night, a serious, somber expression painted on. You were quiet at first, sorting through the conversation. He let you. You’d filled Sylus in then, just enough to keep him updated, to know everything was fine. He respected your privacy, the distance you kept with such a sensitive subject, though he wished you’d confide in him.

Allow him to give you shelter from the storm in your eyes.

You’d stopped him, before you left for bed. Told him not to worry. It was sweet of him, you’d said, but unnecessary. That he didn’t need to give Luke and Kieran a task as boring as watching you talk to Xavier, that you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

Sylus didn’t tell you that he knew that, too. He didn’t tell you that he wanted Luke and Kieran to watch you with Xavier to see if you were interested in him, interested in a way Sylus couldn’t compete with.

Instead, Sylus told you he’d let you be. Not before making you promise to tell him if something goes wrong, though. He’s only a phone call away, after all.

Even a panicked look to Mephisto would do.

You nodded, assuring him that he would be the first person you’d call if things went haywire.

He wasn’t quite sure if he believed you, but he relented nonetheless.

So, when you left the base early this morning, just as Sylus’s business day was ending, he’d told Luke and Kieran to simply drop you off where you asked, no need to watch you.

Of course, now his eyes hadn’t wandered from the front door.

Even as the dark circles under his eyes sunk deeper and his shoulders drooped, Sylus stayed. Waiting patiently.

He wasn’t sure when you’d be back. He just wanted to see you as soon as you were. Make sure you were okay under the guise of a smug smile and a teasing remark.

It wasn’t worth risking the raw vulnerability embedded in his worry if you had another man in your heart, after all.

The soft click of the back door pulled Sylus’s head up, listening carefully to the barely audible footsteps padding through the hallway behind him. Two sets, he noted. Luke and Kieran.

The tension in his shoulders relaxed again as he turned to see the two boys unceremoniously drop onto the couch.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep, Boss?” Kieran asked.

“I’m alright,” Sylus answered shortly.

“You sure, Boss-man?” Luke pushed. “Looks like the bags under your eyes could carry the weight of the world.”

Sylus stared at the twins. “Don’t you two have something better to do than worry about my sleeping habits?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Luke starts, sitting up. “I almost forgot why we came here.”

Kieran sighed. “We’re here to give you a report on the tracking.”

Sylus nodded. “Continue.”

“Looks like Em and Caleb have been staying at his apartment in Skyhaven since Little Boss came here. Haven’t been outside much,” Kieran explained.

“Yeah, they’ve just been holed up in there together. From what we could tell, things looked pretty tense,” Luke said. “But it was pretty much the same thing for a week. Except today. Em left early, about 7:30. Caleb left at 8:00. Went to the Fleet, a new mission or something. We couldn’t track him very far, too high of surveillance on the Colonel.”

“We could track Em after she left, though,” Kieran continued. “She boarded the Coelum Express at 8:00, arriving back in Linkon at 10:00. She first went to her apartment, where she checked every room before leaving. Then she went to the Hunter’s Association.”

“She went to her desk immediately, and she was stopped by Tara and Simone. They talked for about five minutes before Jenna called Em over,” Luke listed off. “Em reported on her most recent mission and then said she had to go. Then she went to Research, talking to Nero very briefly where he gave her very vague answers. Em then sought out Xavier, who seemed more worried about how panicked she looked then answering the questions she asked him.”

Sylus nodded. “Seems like everything’s following the plan,” he muttered. “Where is Em now?”

Kieran shifted on his feet. “That’s the thing, Boss,” he confessed. “We lost her.”

Linkon was incredibly lively.

Bustling streets filled with locals and tourists alike. The chatter rose, echoing through the city so that even the quietest corners were filled with the hum of connection.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

You navigated the busy streets, wondering just how anyone could manage to live here permanently.

Wondering how the you from before you landed in Love and Deepspace did it.

You’d almost forgotten it, how this life wasn’t really your own. You were filling in the slot of a life already lived, already planned, that you had no recollection of.

Was that person from before really you? Or did you steal the life of another, taking what they deserved?

Feeling your chest tighten, you tried to focus on your breathing instead.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

It wasn’t like the feeling was new. On the contrary, you often felt like your life wasn’t really your own. Like it wasn’t real, you weren’t real. That all that you’d experienced before was just a precursor to what life really was, what it was supposed to be. Almost convincing yourself that the life you had couldn’t be real, because wasn’t life supposed to be more than that?

Maybe you were still that kid reading Narnia, waiting for a world at the end of the Wardrobe to find her.

You were almost getting better, you thought as you sat down at a cafe. Your hands itched at your thighs, the lengths you’d gone to feel real again a constant reminder.

But then you got dropped into Love and Deepspace. A world that, as far as you were concerned, was just a game come to life.

This wasn’t real, you told yourself. Which is why the fulfillment this life brought hurt all the more.

You thought of what Xavier had said when you told him. How he wasn’t really surprised.

That had caught you off guard at first, but it all clicked when you thought about it later.

Xavier hadn’t been your favorite Love Interest, but there was always something there you connected to. Something quiet, lurking there but not making a show out of itself.

Xavier was never really present, it felt. He was quiet, reserved, always lost in his mind or his dreams.

Always thinking of something else, always something taking his focus, never truly being in the moment.

It made sense he would almost expect a twisted reality, after all he’s seen.

But then you thought of what he’d said after.

It’s real to me. That’s enough.

You hadn’t understood at the time, hadn’t gotten how he could so easily live with that doubt.

How could you live with the possibility that this life might not completely be your own?

But maybe that’s what you were missing. That doubt is just a part of life. No one’s ever really sure, you thought, and that’s okay.

Our reality is what we make it.

It seems this is your reality now. If this is what you have, it’s time to make the best of it.

Sylus was now settled in his office, eyelids still feeling heavy as he watched the security screens. He watched as you made your way to Mo Art Studio, Mephisto patiently watching you from a distance. He wouldn’t know what you were talking about, but he could see if anyone laid a hand on you, and that was enough for him.

Luke and Kieran had run off to who knows where, to sleep or to prank Sylus didn’t know. It was negligible to him, what they did. They had limits, he knew, and he could clean up any messes they made.

It had been a while since their last prank, though, so Sylus kept an eye on the door behind him. He wouldn’t put it past them to do something now, especially since he’s so tired and out of his element.

Sylus didn’t flinch when the door slammed open. Didn’t flinch when his chair was aggressively pulled back from the desk.

What gave him pause was, instead, the click of heels against the floor.

The feeds were immediately cut, any glimpse of what they had shown gone as soon as the door opened.

A security measure Sylus was now thankful he’d implemented.

“Where is she?” Em hissed.

Sylus rose from his chair leisurely, letting out a deep breath. “I don’t know who you’re referring to.”

“You know damn well who I mean!” she exclaimed. “I saw Mephisto outside that morning. I shooed him away, but when I came back she was gone.”

“What a shame.” Sylus smirked. “If you’d let him be, he might have seen who took her.”

“I know it was you, Sylus, just admit it! I saw your stupid bird outside, and that same day she was gone!”

“And obviously, that means I took her.” Sylus raised an eyebrow.

“Well, who else would have?” she asked.

“Enlighten me,” Sylus sighed. “What reason would I have to take your little friend?”

“I don’t know,” Em groaned. “All I know is she’s gone. I—” Her breath caught, eyes watering ever so slightly. “I lost her,” she whispered. “And now I can’t find her.”

Sylus inhaled sharply, staying quiet for a few beats. “You lost her,” he began softly. “Have you ever considering she doesn’t want to be found?”

Mo Art Studio was bright, elegant, a seaside paradise. The soft crash of waves could be heard throughout the grounds, a view of the changing tides almost always visible. You checked your phone again, seeing Rafayel’s latest confirmation that it was okay for you to stop by. The gates in front of the studio were intricate and, most noticeably, open.

You hesitantly made your way through the grounds, stopping just before the front door. With a deep breath, you pushed it open, immediately met with the smell of paint, canvas, and seafood. Rafayel was easily spotted in the open floor plan, situated in an awkward position in front of a canvas.

“Great timing, cutie,” he said as he cast his paintbrush aside. “If I stayed in that position any longer, I’d probably be stuck like that.”

You chuckled as he stretched, white shirt opening slightly. You remained silent as he walked towards you, leaving down slightly to match your height.

“Now, cutie, why did you need to see me so urgently?” he asked.

“I’ve got something important to tell you,” you said, wringing your hands.

Rafayel straightened up. “Do you want to go walk on the beach for this?” He pointed back towards the opened French doors behind him.

Nodding, you took his hand as he led you out onto the sand.

You both discarded your shoes once you got off the boardwalk through the dunes, allowing the sand to shift under your bare feet. The incoming waves nipped at your heels as you took a deep breath.

“Do you remember the first time we met, that painting we were looking at?”

“Of course,” he nodded, “I loved that piece. So did you. But, it didn’t sell.”

“And you remember what you said about when you painted it? How that afternoon was really weird, like the universe was trying to fit in something new?”

Rafayel nodded again, the crease between his brows growing deeper.

“That afternoon was weird for me, too.” You exhaled. “See, I’m not from here, not like you are. I’m from a— a different world. I think that was what was weird about that day. It was me coming into this world.”

Rafayel stared at you. A few beats of silence passed. “So… so what? You’re saying there’s other worlds? Other dimensions? How did you even get here?” he sputtered. A deep sigh. “I knew something weird happened, I just didn’t think…”

“I don’t know how it happened. All I know is, I was there one moment, and the next, I was in Linkon,” you explained.

“Is it that Deepspace tunnel?” he muttered.

“There’s another thing,” you said sheepishly. “In my world, there’s this game, Love and Deepspace.” You tried to explain it slowly, carefully. You explained the events of the Main Story, everything that had happened that even he didn’t know all about. You left out the memories, the romantic moments stolen away that hadn’t happened yet.

You told him about the past lives, though, all that you knew. You watched as a myriad of emotions passed through his eyes, the ghosts of past loves haunting him.

“You know what’s going to happen, then? How it’s going to end?” he asked quietly.

“Not really,” you admitted. “I just know a lot about what has happened, even the things other people haven’t noticed.”

With barely a nod, Rafayel turned to the incoming ocean. Treading the water, his pants were soaked, up through the calf with salt staining the silken black.

“She had my heart,” he whispered, keeping his back to you. “I guess I never had hers, though.”

You took a step forward, the waves lapping at your legs. Pearls dropped, one by one, to the ocean, their tiny splashes becoming lost in the moving tides.

“Rafayel…” you began.

He turned to you, eyes bright and swirling like the eye of a hurricane. “She was never really going to be mine, was she? Not wholly, not completely.” He let out a dull, empty laugh. “Not in this life, not in the last, not in the next. I guess I was never really meant to have a love like that. All I get is something not meant to last, but something that can’t seem to let me breathe without aching.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking.

“Do you know… what happens to me? The bond, it’s still—”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know.”

“Then… did she ever really love me?” His hands trembled at his sides, the hurricane in his eyes nearly spilling out.

You rushed forward, taking your hand in his. “Of course she did,” you murmured. “She’s always loved you. I think she always will.” You laughed lightly. “I don’t know if it’s ‘meant to be’ like you say, but I think anyone would be foolish not to love you.”

Rafayel chuckled, looking back to the sun’s rays across the ocean before his gaze met yours again, leaning down once more so he was eye-level with you.

“Well, well, cutie. Does this mean you love me, too?” He grinned.

You glanced away, feeling your cheeks warm up. He moved next to you, pulling you against him with an arm around your shoulder.

Pressing a kiss to your hair, he whispered, “Thank you, cutie. That’s more than I need. She was never meant to willingly give me her heart. Maybe its time I find a new muse.”

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

masterlist

[wonderjanga]

Streamers and YouTubers sometimes joke their viewers are in their basement, what would this mean for Divine Twitch Chat?

Zeus: Just electrocute that guy Marvel: Nope Zeus: Let me out of the basement, I'll do it myself >:( Marvel: Nope Mercury: May I come out of the basement? Marvel: Nope

(Out of the basement ≈ In control)

Also, what would the JL say / how would they react if Marvel just casually said “gods in my basement” instead of the “gods in my head” reveal?

Flash: “…why do you talk to yourself all the time, dude?”

Marvel: “Huh? Oh I have gods in my basement.”

Flash: *actually concerned at that* “What?”

Marvel: “Yeah. Actually, haven’t you met some of them before?”

Flash: “…No?”

Marvel: “I’m pretty sure you have. I think I let Mercury out yesterday so he could run around and have some fun.”

Flash: “Okay, so one, Mercury is in your basement? Two, a god was running around among humans? And three, I met him?”

Marvel: “Yes, yes, and also yes. Didn’t you guys literally race?”

Flash: “Wha— when?? The only person I raced yesterday was you!”

Marvel: “Yeah, so you raced Mercury.”

*silence*

Flash: “So Mercury was possessing you or something?”

Mercury: “I honestly think you should let me out again! This guys pretty fast and I want a rematch.”

Marvel: “No.” *is talking to Mercury*

Flash: “Wait so you weren’t possessed?”

Marvel: “No, I was, I’m talking to the chat right now.”

Flash: “What chat??”

Marvel: “The chat. Also the same people I keep in my basement.”

Flash: “What??”

Solomon: “Billy, can I be let out after this conversation? I wish to go to the nearest… Mickey Dee’s. That is what you called it, Achilles, yes?”

Achilles: “Yes! Billy, let the man get a triple cheeseburger!”

Marvel: “Sure. Depends if there’s any crime.”

Flash: “Are you talking to them again?”

Marvel: “Yes, Flash.”

Zeus: “Wait, why can Solomon go and get McDonald’s but I can’t be trusted to go and get Kentucky Fried Chicken?”

Atlas: “Probably because you tried to fry the cashier after he told you the price?”

Marvel: “That was actually a pretty fair reaction, but yes, Atlas is right.”

Flash: “What’re you guys talking about now?”

Marvel: “Solomon asked if he could go to McDonald’s and Zeus got mad because we don’t trust him at a KFC.”

Flash: “…what?”

[crunchystarz]

TWST SELF-AWARE AU —series

overblot boys x gn! reader, prologue ,CHAP1 [you are here]

Cw- obsessive behavior, stalking(Idia is being desperate and a little shit),reader feeling like they're being watched....they are.

Summary: You got a new game and have been playing it quite a bit, yet it feels like since then your casual college life has been a little off putting but you can't explain why.

Word count: 2003

A/N: this was supposed to be posted yesterday gah and it's a bit shorter than I'd like but it's wtv

CHAPTER ONE —

Imagine watching your current understanding of reality slip through your fingers like grains of sand. Everything you’ve ever known, your memories, your feelings, your identity, nothing more than pre-written scripts and strings of code. Every connection you've made, every triumph and heartbreak, is fabricated. Not real. Never real. Just fantasy, coded illusions.

A sick, disconcerting reality to accept, isn’t it? That you are not a real person.

So what are you? What is your purpose? What were you made for? That was the thought running through these men's minds at the moment.. They all shared the same despair and loss of feeling, if you could even call it feeling. There was one thing they could all agree on: The player.

Once they found out Ramshackle’s peculiar Perfect was more than them. More than code. Yuu was real. Not exactly, Yuu was a face for something more. Behind the powerless human from another world was you. The only thing real, the only thing genuine. They became obsessed with that; they became obsessed with you exactly and worshipped you even.

Each one of them fought for your attention. They wanted to be your favorite, had to be your favorite. They were going to make sure of it, no matter what the cost. They would make you love them.

You didn't get out often, so it was nice that a friend of yours invited you out. You wouldn't consider yourself extremely introverted, but you're definitely not an extrovert. You enjoyed your peace, but it was nice to be around friends here and there. You don't have many, so you were actually quite excited to get out of the house.

You scramble around to find your keys and your wallet. You had seemed to be misplacing your items as if late.. You weren't normally so forgetful; maybe it was stress causing you to forget where you put your things? Frustrated, you flopped on your back on your bed.

A ping from your phone makes your head perk up. You lazily rolled over to grab it. Sitting up, you look down at your notifications. A frown spread across your face. Of course. First, you can't find your things then you get cancelled at the last minute? Your friend wasn't known to just bail on people either; something must have happened. The universe must have a grudge on you, huh? You were really looking forward to getting out.

Another notification popped up across your screen. “Your LP is full.” Ah right twisted wonderland was a game you had recently really gotten into. Might as well play since you're not going out anyway. Your finger hovered over the game icon, its familiar logo glowing warmly on the screen, ‘Twisted Wonderland’, A comfort, a constant. You tapped it. The screen lit up, and that now familiar jingle played, looping over and over, welcoming you back.

You get into your usual rhythm of the game. Humming to yourself as the familiarity brought you peace. However after a while, you start to feel odd. It's a weird feeling that makes your skin crawl. You don't know why the sudden wave of paranoia hit you. Uncomfortable is the only way to describe the feeling. You look around your room. It had gotten dark out by now, and your lights were off. The only thing allowing you to see was the gentle moon glow.

It was odd. It felt as if you were being watched. You don't know why that thought suddenly implanted itself in your head. It sent shivers down your spine. It was so weird, you couldn't explain it, but something in your head was screaming at you that someone, something was watching you.

Your breath hitched. You put your phone down slowly, the game still running in the background. But you couldn’t focus on it anymore. That sensation hadn’t gone away. You were just being paranoid. You lived alone in your apartment. This uneasy feeling made your stomach sick. Was the stress getting that bad you were getting paranoid again.

You glanced back at the screen. One of the boys was on it. Riddle. It was just him the screen black and his text box left blank. It felt as if his gray eyes were staring directly. You furrowed your brows. There was nothing else just the 2D model staring at you.

“Nope,” you whispered. “Game's glitched. I’m tired. It’s just a glitch.” Your game is glitched, and you're just paranoid from the lack of sleep and stress of work. Yup, that was it. Staying home was a good idea if you were going to act strange the whole time. Riddle is not looking at you, he can't look at you [name] go to bed, you tell yourself. Nothing to overthink.

Closing out the app, you roll over on your back and sigh. Your tongue poked at your cheek. You need to go to sleep. School and work have been eating you up lately. Something had to be wrong with you. Sleep deprivation, overworing, caffeine withdrawal. Something. That was the logical explanation.

You don't need to get worked up over something so small. Just rest you convince yourself. You feel your eyelids get heavier as you start to drift off.

You wake up to the sound of your notifications blowing up. Confused, as your messages were usually dry. Sleepily, you grab your phone expecting it to be your friend or maybe one of your family members. No, it's from an unknown number. Your blood runs cold upon reading the messages. What the hell?

[Unknown]: heyyyy [name]-chan~

[Unknown]: you were going to go out today and you looked so cute!

[Unknown]; Too cute for other people couldn't let you leave looking like that>:]

[Unknown]: the others were so bummed you barely played not me though I got access to you whenever I want

[Unknown]: don't tell them tho lolz!!

[Unknown] You know you're rlly cute when you sleep btw<3

Your stomach dropped. Your screen lit up again. Dread weaseling its way into your skin. Unease was an understatement of what you were feeling right now. Just who is this? Was this some unfunny joke your friend was pulling? You wished it were that simple.

[Unknown]: You shouldn't ignore us, though. It hurts our feelings.

[Unknown]: I know you're reading theseeee

You didn't respond. You couldn’t. Your fingers hovered above the screen, trembling. ,Your eyes flicked to the top of the screen profile picture. No number. Just Unknown. You tapped to block the sender. Nothing happened. Tapped again.

Still nothing.

Then another ping.

[Unknown]: blocking me already? :( ur no fun!!!

You sucked in a sharp breath and stood, your legs unsteady. Panic churned in your chest. You pulled your knees against your chest. Biting your lip, you clumsily type a reply.

[You]: Who are you?!?

The reply dots appear and reappear. What was going on? What did you do to deserve a stalker? Too many thoughts ran through your head. You collapse on your bed. The soft blue light from your screen illuminated your face. Finally, you get a text back.

[Unknown]: that's for you to find out!! If you do, you'd have to keep it a secret ;]

[You]: Please just leave me alone.

[Unknown]: No can do [name]-chan :<

[Unknown]: ah gtg lil bros calling fun talking with ya!!!

You watch as the blank icons' green light turns gray, signifying they are no longer online. You stare at your phone screen for a few minutes. You feel tears prick the brim of your eyes. This was a sick, sick joke. Had to be a prank. You needed to calm down. Maybe you should call the police? Would this be enough to be considered harassment?

You huffed. You couldn't sleep now, not with the thought of someone stalking you. Who would want to stalk you anyway? You're a broke college student just barely getting by with the job you have at the local cafe. You don't have much interesting going on with your life, so why you?

Another text. You fearfully opened the message. You saw the contact name and sighed out of relief. It was your friend—wait, their message didn't make any sense. They were wondering why you didn't show up, but they cancelled on you. Looking through your messages, you couldn't find any proof of the conversation you had prior. You know you didn't make it up...

Your face turned up. Today had to be a bad dream. What exactly was going on? You squirmed out of bed, leaving your phone on your bed. Just being near it made you uncomfortable. Slipping into the living room.

You rubbed your arms as a cold chill settled over you, despite the room being warm. Everything felt off. Like your world was tilted slightly on its axis, and no one had noticed but you. You turned on the light in the living room, needing something to ground you. The warm glow helped… a little. But that crawling feeling remained. You don't even remember falling asleep at your kitchen island.

—

There Idia goes running his mouth again now Leona and Vil are on his ass. His yellow eyes shifted, avoiding the two figures' gazes. Leona grabbed the collar of his hoodie aggressively. “Listen, you decided to run your mouth earlier,” Leona growled, his voice low and dangerous, “now elaborate before I turn your face into sand.” The lion beast man spat. Vil crossed his arms and glared.

Idia put his arms up in surrender. He knew they were going to find out eventually that they were as obsessive as he was. Still, it was annoying; it was a secret he wanted to keep to himself a bit longer. flFinding out he could use magic to bypass the code just enough to have access to your phone.

“I just talked to em a bit, no biggie-” Idia yelped, trying to push Leona off him even if it was clear who was stronger. Vil huffed and moved closer shoving Leona causing him to growl under his breath, tail flicking in annoyance.

“You're telling me you have contact outside of our plane and you didn't tell any of us. Do you know how important that is, numbskull!" The pomefiore housewarden snapped.

“Okay okay okay!! Chill!” Idia squawked, ducking his head down, hair flaring pink for a moment before settling back into its usual blue flame. “It's not like I didn't plan to tell you guys! I was just... testing the connection! Beta access! You know, like a soft launch??”

Leona scoffed, tossing him back with a shove. “Dont sugar coat nothin we ain't stupid you were just getting greedy.” Idia couldn't deny he was greedy. He wanted you for himself. How could he not be greedy he was closer to you than anyone else. He wasn't going to share the information originally, he was going to claw into that closeness only you and he had. Yet he was cocky and ended up running his mouth when he ran into the duo. He huffed and rolled his eyes.

“You aren't thinking logically you radish, if you have direct access to the entirety of their devices who knows if that's the limit we can go think about it” Leona said tapping a finger against dia's forehead. A smirk played on his lips. “If we can build that gap with simple magic don't ya think we could probably weasel our way into their world " He explained further.

"in your hypothetical where any of what you're talking about is correct we would need immense magical power, much more than either one of us could produce on our own" Vil but in. His eyes scanned Leona. Vil knew Leona was a genius. It was built into him he knew that he was always going to be one of the smartest characters in this world. Yet he held his doubts about this. It sounds too far fetched. How would they even go about this?

"Never said it would be easy at all it sounds simple on bluepaler you don't think I havent thought about how much magic that would take been thinking about this for awhile actually but this new information the otaku gave us makes me think we really have a chance...won't like it but I think I'd we get that lizards help" the savanaclaw housewarden said crossing his arms before yawning.

" it's late 'm going to bed you two should do the same ,Vil get the others gathered sometime tomorrow " Leona said flicking is wrist before walking off suddenly. Vil and Idia both exchanged glances, the shift of his attention gave them whiplash.

Idia mumbled under his breath something about how annoying Leona was, Vil couldn't quite catch what he had said. With a sigh Vil turned on his heel. "I shall be taking my leave now, no more funny business until tomorrow we shall discuss your little communication with the Perfect then. " He spoke before walking the same direction Leona had gone.

Oh how Idia hated sharing with six other guys, it was such a pain why couldn't he just have you for himself...

Tag list

@sirairi

@3sryn

@ihatemyselffromthestart-blog

[mooningningg]

notes, if we had drunk reader request we have a drunk sukuna too.

★ Roommate!Sukuna comes home drunk.

The front door slammed open at exactly 2:37 a.m.

You jolted awake on the couch, bleary-eyed and clutching your blanket like a shield. It wasn’t even alarming anymore — not with Sukuna as your roommate. Noise, chaos, and poor life decisions? Standard package deal.

What was alarming… was the voice.

“Stop fuckin’ pushin’ me—‘m home, bitch!” he slurred, clearly talking to someone who was not there. “I know where I live. Stupid ass door tryna square up…”

There was a thud. Then a pause.

“Fucking wall came outta nowhere.”

You groaned and sat up, flipping on a lamp.

Sure enough, there he was: Sukuna, in all his drunken glory, half-stumbling into the apartment with his shirt halfway unbuttoned and his belt flapping like a sad flag of surrender. His hair was a mess, there was lipstick on his jaw — not yours, definitely not his — and his keys were still dangling from the lock.

“Oh my God,” you muttered. “You're drunk.”

Sukuna blinked at you.

Then squinted.

Then frowned.

“Who the fuck are you?”

You stared.

“Sukuna. It’s me.”

He pointed at you, wobbling. “Nah. Nope. You're not her. You don’t smell like y/n. She smells like laundry detergent and rage.”

“I am your y/n.”

“No, no. She’s hot. Way hotter. Got this mouth on her too, always talkin’ back. Yells at me when I leave ramen in the sink.”

You blinked. “Are you… complimenting me or fighting a ghost?”

He huffed and made a dramatic show of leaning against the wall, sliding down like a tragic hero in a Shakespeare play. “I want my roommate. My rude, scary, mean-ass roommate who makes me soup when I’m sick and yells when I steal her socks.”

“You’re wearing my socks right now.”

He looked down. Blinked.

“They’re warm,” he said, like it explained everything. Then his eyes narrowed at you again. “Where is she?”

“You’re actually looking at her.”

“Nooo,” he said, dragging the word out like a child. “You’re too nice. She’s not nice. She yells. She calls me gremlin when I play TikToks too loud.”

“You left your phone in the fridge yesterday.”

He gasped. “She told you that?! Fuckin’ snitch.”

“That was me, Sukuna!”

He stared at you, eyes glassy. Then slowly leaned his head back against the wall with the softest bonk.

“…She’s gonna be so mad when she finds out I threw up in her laundry basket.”

You went still. “You what.”

He moaned dramatically and curled up on the floor like a Victorian widow. “Just kill me now. She’s gonna take my skin and sell it on Etsy.”

“I should!”

“But at least I’ll die smelling like her dryer sheets,” he sighed.

You threw a pillow at his face.

He caught it — sort of. It bounced off his forehead, and he mumbled something about betrayal.

Finally, you sighed and walked over, crouching beside him. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I can walk,” he grunted, then immediately wobbled as he tried to stand and reached for you blindly. “Where’s my scary y/n. I want her to carry me.”

You rolled your eyes, hoisting his arm over your shoulder. “Still me.”

He leaned heavily into you, breath warm against your temple.

“…You smell like her.”

“I am her, Sukuna.”

He groaned. “Then you’re way prettier than usual.”

You blinked. “That’s not even an insult.”

“You’re not even real,” he muttered as you half-dragged him down the hall. “She’s not this nice. This must be a dream.”

You shoved open his bedroom door and dumped him onto the bed. “If it is, it’s about to be a nightmare.”

He grunted as he flopped over, hugging a pillow. “Tell my roommate she’s hot. But also scary. But like… the hot kind of scary. And if she’s still mad about the laundry basket, tell her I love her.”

Your stomach twisted just a little.

You blinked. “What?”

But Sukuna was already snoring.

Dead to the world.

And covered in your socks.

Taglist, @humeysaga @williamafton26 @aranisbaee @probablynotleahhhh @probablynotleahhhh.

[wbb-fan92]

How The Night Ends

A/n: I just felt like writing this since yesterday’s jersey debacle was such a big day. I don’t write much, so this isn’t perfect but hope you enjoy.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: sexual content, 18+ only

Paige was on the court warming up for what was going to be a tough battle against the Washington Mystics. She was feeling good but undoubtedly a little overwhelmed with the constant comparisons between herself and the rookies on the opposing team. But today was a good day because Azzi was coming to the game, and any day that she got to see her girlfriend’s beautiful face in person was a good day.

Warmups were winding down, and Paige and her teammate, Arike, were going through their warmup ritual. It wasn’t anything important, but they liked to have a little fun back and forth before each game.

That’s when Azzi arrived and walked across the court and sat courtside, right in front of where Paige and Arike were passing the ball. Paige couldn’t help but get distracted by the way Azzi commanded the room. It’s almost like she was the star on the court tonight, not the other way around.

Azzi was wearing a pair of Paige’s jeans and a cropped white t-shirt that showed the faintest amount of skin—but enough for Paige’s mouth to water at the sight.

“You good?” Arike asked with a hint of laughter.

“What?” Paige said as she focused her attention back on her teammate, almost missing the ball that Arike threw at her. “Yeah, all good.”

As Paige and Arike continued their warmup tradition, Paige watched as a player from the opposing team, Georgia Amoore, walked up to Azzi and handed her a bright red Washington Mystics jersey.

Without hesitation, Azzi slipped the jersey over her carefully curled hair and over her white cropped t-shirt.

Paige watched as Azzi slipped the jersey on and caught Georgia as she coyly walked away from the scene of the crime.

“Hey, that’s cold. You know that, right?” Paige shouted as Georgia walked away.

Georgia glanced back over her shoulder and gave Paige a wink as she walked off the court.

Paige couldn’t do anything but shake her head in disbelief. Georgia was a friend of hers and Azzi’s—she knew that. And she also knew that Azzi was a DMV native and had always supported the Mystics.

It wasn’t the sight of the red jersey that flared something in Paige; it was the sight of another girl’s number across her girlfriend’s chest.

Paige looked over at Azzi. “Are you really gonna wear that?”

“Yeah, why?” Azzi asked with a teasing tone in her voice.

Arike watched the interaction and couldn’t do anything but laugh. She walked over to Azzi and dabbed her up while laughing. “You gonna pay for that, just wait.”

Azzi didn’t respond. She just smiled wide and kept her eyes on Paige the entire time.

Paige shook her head as the lights in the arena dimmed, signaling that warmups were over. She made her way to the tunnel toward the locker room as she caught one last glance at Azzi in another girl’s jersey as she walked away.

——

The game was a tough battle between two teams that wanted the win badly. Even after a clutch 3-pointer to send the game into overtime, Paige and the entire Wings team couldn’t secure the victory.

Paige was disappointed as she made her way to the locker room to change out of her jersey.

She didn’t even think about the game or what she would have done differently. No. All Paige could think about was how her girlfriend looked in that red jersey.

Paige knew that Azzi was just messing with her, but she couldn’t deny the fact that seeing Azzi in that jersey every time she glanced to the sidelines messed with her head during the game.

Paige had never been super territorial in their relationship, but she was feeling a little more today due to the fact that Azzi had just hard-launched their relationship the day before. That was her girl, and she didn’t want to see someone else’s name across her well-defined back.

Paige shook the thoughts out of her head and finished tying her ponytail up into a messy bun. She put on her sweatsuit while grabbing her bags to head out to the court to say hello to the friends and family that came to see her play. She was excited that her dad, and the two other adults who were like second parents to her, were in the arena tonight.

She walked out and saw Azzi standing with her parents, Katie and Tim. Paige smiled, seeing Katie in a blue Wings #5 jersey.

“Hey,” Paige shouted. “At least someone here still has a little loyalty.” Paige walked up and wrapped her arms around Katie.

“You did good, kid. We’re so proud of you,” Katie said as she hugged the girl tight.

Paige pulled back from the hug and stood in front of Azzi. She watched as Azzi opened her arms, waiting for Paige to melt into her like she typically did after every game.

“If you think I’m hugging you in that jersey, you’re crazy,” Paige said as she stared at her girlfriend.

Azzi giggled and reached her hands down to grab the bottom of the jersey and pulled it over her head.

When Azzi tossed the jersey back to Georgia, who was standing off to the side, Paige smiled and immediately lunged forward and crashed into her girlfriend’s embrace.

Breathing in deeply to take in the smell of her girlfriend’s perfume, she squeezed tighter while turning her head into Azzi’s neck.

“What was that?” Paige mumbled into Azzi’s neck, still not letting go.

“Huh?” Azzi replied nonchalantly, even though she knew exactly what Paige was referring to.

Paige pulled back from the hug to look her girlfriend right in the eyes. She squinted at her, almost disapprovingly.

“You wearing some other girl’s number now?”

Azzi smiled at Paige and reached up to put her hand on her bicep. “You mad?”

“Mhmmm,” Paige replied quietly.

“Don’t be. At least not here,” Azzi said, lowering her voice.

Paige swallowed heavily and nodded while she continued to make her way around the group to say hello and goodbye to everyone there.

She grabbed her bag and followed Azzi out the arena doors.

——

Walking into the hotel room, Azzi could feel the tension. She had decided to come back with Paige to the team hotel and stay the night, knowing she’d have to get up at the crack of dawn to drive back to Storrs in time for summer workouts tomorrow afternoon.

But one more night with Paige was worth all of the tired workouts she’d endure tomorrow and the next day.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” Paige said after dropping her bags onto the hotel room floor.

“Mmkay, I’ll be here,” Azzi said sweetly as she watched Paige saunter into the bathroom.

Azzi knew that wearing the Georgia Amoore jersey would turn some heads, but she thought most people would understand given the fact that she grew up here in the DMV.

She also knew that Paige would probably turn an eye up at seeing her in another girl’s jersey—and maybe she was sort of hoping it would elicit some kind of response.

Azzi loved Paige more than anything. She had even hard-launched their relationship via a phone case the day before. Being apart for so long these last few months had been torture for the both of them.

So yeah, maybe Azzi was intentionally trying to get a rise out of Paige so they could show each other just how much they really loved one another.

Azzi had changed out of her clothes and into a pair of shorts and a tank top. She climbed on top of the bed and picked up her phone and began to scroll, seeing all of the photos and think pieces of her in the jersey.

Paige walked out of the steamy bathroom wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top. Her wet hair, now curled along the edges, lay below her shoulders.

Azzi looked up at her and immediately threw her phone to the nightstand. She noticed her girlfriend had decided not to wear a bra, nipples poking through the fabric of the tank top she was wearing.

“Come here,” Azzi said as she stared at Paige.

Paige slowly walked over toward the bed, climbing onto it and making sure she slowly crawled up Azzi’s body as she did.

Azzi shifted to the side so their bodies were pressed together, but neither was carrying the full weight of the other.

Azzi wrapped her arms around Paige’s stomach and buried her head into her shoulder.

“Are you mad at me?” Azzi mumbled.

Paige pulled back so she could look her girlfriend in the eyes. She brushed a dark curl out of Azzi’s face.

“I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you,” Paige responded. “I just really didn’t like feeling like someone else was claiming you in front of me.”

Azzi pulled Paige closer. “Baby, I’m yours. No one gets to claim me but you.”

Paige leaned in and forced Azzi’s chin up toward her. She placed a soft kiss to her lips and sighed.

“You are mine, and I don’t like everyone thinking you’re not,” Paige whispered.

Azzi giggled. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows after I posted that Instagram story yesterday.”

“Yeah, the team gave me hell about that,” Paige said shyly.

Azzi laughed and turned onto her back, bending an arm back behind her head.

As she did, her tank top rose up above her belly button and exposed the dark, soft skin that was beneath.

Paige immediately shifted her gaze down to look and instinctively reached out her hand to rest it onto Azzi’s stomach.

“So, you’re not mad?” Azzi asked, her breath becoming more unsteady.

Paige glanced at Azzi, who was looking at her with heavy eyelids.

“Do you want me to be?” she asked as she moved her palm, which was resting on Azzi’s lower stomach, further up under her tank top.

Azzi didn’t respond right away, because Paige’s touch was a little distracting.

Paige softly palmed Azzi’s breasts into one of her hands. “Baby, I said, do you want me to be mad?”

“I just—” Azzi started before sucking in a breath. “I just wanna feel you.”

“You want me to show you that you’re mine?” Paige whispered as she leaned in to kiss the soft spot beneath Azzi’s jaw.

Paige began sucking the dark skin of Azzi’s neck, soothing it with soft kisses each time.

“Tell me what you want, Az,” she said as she leaned up to lightly nibble the other girl’s earlobe.

“I want you to touch me,” Azzi said, breathless.

Paige turned her head and kissed Azzi hard. Their mouths opened up and both of them gasped when their tongues touched. They continued kissing while Paige reached down to tug at the waistband of Azzi’s night shorts.

“Lift up, baby,” Paige said as she pulled the shorts down around Azzi’s muscular thighs.

Azzi was desperate for her touch. As Paige backed away to remove her shorts, Azzi reached back up to try and pull her closer, not wanting to lose the closeness.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you,” Paige said as she leaned back down into Azzi’s space, lightly kissing her thighs as she did.

Azzi reached down and threaded her fingers through damp blonde curls as Paige continued licking and kissing her thighs.

“Please, Paige,” Azzi whined.

Paige tilted her head and glanced up, looking at the desperation on her girlfriend’s face. Paige almost lost her train of thought at seeing how beautiful her girl was laid beneath her. Suddenly she had a thought.

She leaned up further and kissed Azzi’s stomach. “Take this off for me,” she said to Azzi.

Azzi quickly reached down to remove her tank top and hurriedly threw it down off the bed. Paige laughed at her quickness.

Seeing Azzi bare beneath her felt like heaven. Paige leaned down and started a trail of kisses, starting at Azzi’s neck. She made her way down to her breasts, kissing and sucking each of them as she passed.

She continued to kiss down Azzi’s stomach, stopping briefly to swirl the girl’s belly button ring around her tongue.

She leaned back, taking in the sight below her. She pushed off the bed and stood up.

Azzi’s eyes snapped open as she felt the weight of the bed disappear. “What—where are you going?”

Paige grinned and walked over to the bag that she had dropped on the floor when they walked in.

She bent her knees to crouch down and dig through, smiling when she found what she was looking for.

She stood up, blue jersey in hand. She walked back over to the bed and crawled back up to Azzi.

“Sit up,” Paige said sternly.

Azzi’s eyes opened wider at the girl’s tone. She sat up in the bed, arms leaning behind her to hold herself up.

Paige reached forward with the jersey and pulled it over Azzi’s head. She pulled down the bottom over Azzi’s breasts and stomach.

“See this?” Paige said as she hungrily took in the girl in front of her. “This means you’re mine.”

Azzi nodded. “I’ve always been yours.”

At that, Paige tugged on Azzi’s thighs, making her top half fall back onto the bed. Paige leaned down and breathed in the scent of her girlfriend, already wet and glistening below her.

Paige leaned in and placed a kiss to both thighs before putting her mouth where Azzi needed her the most.

She licked a long line up Azzi’s center as the girl moaned beneath her.

“God, yes baby, keep going,” Azzi said breathlessly.

Feeling the hand in her hair, Paige continued to lick and suck on the wet folds, making sure to pay careful attention to the places she knew her girl loved the most.

Paige could live and die in this position, loving every second of hearing Azzi moan her name beneath her. For all the time they’d been together, she knew exactly what made Azzi cave.

Paige reached down and dipped a finger into Azzi’s folds to gather the wetness.

“Damn baby, you are so wet,” Paige said as she stuck a finger in her own mouth to taste.

Azzi didn’t respond, only moaned and lifted her hips to signal to Paige that she needed more.

“I got you, baby, just relax,” Paige said, knowing that Azzi sometimes tenses up when she’s really needy.

Paige pushed two fingers into Azzi and watched as the girl’s face contorted into one of pleasure. As she continued to thrust into her, curling her fingers as she went in, she watched Azzi wriggle and moan beneath her. She grinned, looking down at the #5 across the girl’s chest.

“Say that you’re mine,” Paige said as she pushed deeper, feeling Azzi’s walls begin to pulse.

“Fuck, Paige—I’m yours, only yours,” Azzi struggled to say coherently. “I’m so close, P.”

Hearing Azzi say she was close, Paige just needed to feel all of her. She removed her fingers and adjusted her position so she was sitting criss-cross applesauce on the bed.

She pulled Azzi’s bottom half on top of her lap. “Come here, baby,” she motioned for Azzi to lean up.

Azzi, dazed and confused, leaned up and wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck as Paige pulled her in closer, Azzi’s legs wrapping around Paige’s waist.

Azzi looked her right in the eyes, and Paige almost melted right then and there.

“Hey baby,” she said as she kissed Azzi’s lips softly.

Paige reached back down, feeling the wetness that was pouring out of Azzi onto her lap now.

With one hand around her waist and the other in Azzi’s pussy, Paige worked her fingers in and out, making sure to rub her thumb across Azzi’s clit at each thrust.

Azzi was meeting her thrusts as she leaned her forehead onto Paige’s shoulder for leverage.

“Yes, Paige, don’t stop,” Azzi said as hot breath continued to fill the small space between them.

“Good girl, I got you, baby,” Paige said as she continued her movements and leaned her mouth up to suck on Azzi’s neck as the girl fell apart.

Paige used her hand around Azzi’s waist to pull her in closer as her other hand continued to meet Azzi’s body as it shook.

“Yes, P, god—you feel so good,” Azzi moaned as her body felt the much-needed release.

Paige slowed her movements as she felt Azzi’s body relax.

Azzi breathed out heavily and collapsed against Paige. “Fuck—that was—” not able to finish her thought.

Paige chuckled and lifted the girl off her lap and laid her down gently on the bed. She hopped off the bed, hearing Azzi whine beneath her.

“Hold on, baby. I’ll be right back,” Paige kissed her softly before walking toward the bathroom.

Azzi could hear the water running, but she was still pretty dazed from her release. She felt the bed dip, signaling that Paige was back.

Paige lightly tapped her thighs. “Spread ’em for me, baby.”

Azzi let her legs fall open on instinct, and Paige took the warm washcloth and began wiping Azzi’s folds clean, making sure to clean up the area on her thighs that were now sticky and wet.

When she was done, she tossed the washcloth onto the floor and climbed up next to Azzi and snuggled close.

She rubbed the hair away from Azzi’s forehead. “Baby, you okay?” Paige asked as she kissed her temple.

“Oh yeah, feel great,” Azzi began to mumble. “Just can’t move my body.”

Paige chuckled and pulled her closer. “I would say you can take off my jersey now, but I think maybe I’ll leave it on.”

Azzi turned toward Paige and brought her hand up to her cheek. “You know I love you, right?”

Paige grinned. “Of course I know.”

Azzi leaned in to kiss her softly. “No really, like I’m so in love with you. No one else ever crosses my mind,” Azzi took a breath as she started to say more.

“I need you to know that I’m yours, and I’m always gonna be only yours, no matter what jersey I have on,” Azzi said sternly to make sure Paige understood.

Paige felt so many emotions that all she could do was lean forward to kiss her girlfriend as they lay there tangled up in each other.

“I know, don’t worry. And I’m not mad, I was just playin’,” Paige said as she caressed Azzi’s face.

“I ain’t saying I like seeing you in another girl’s jersey, but I’m not worried about who gets to do this to you and who doesn’t,” she said as she motioned between them.

Azzi laughed as she kissed Paige’s lips.

Paige sighed into the kiss. “I’ma miss you tomorrow when you leave, baby.”

Azzi nodded in understanding. “I know, I always miss you. Two more weeks, okay? I’ll be down in Dallas with you soon.”

Paige looked at her, eyes squinted. “And you’re only gonna wear my jersey from now on, right?”

Azzi grinned and carefully chose her next words. “Not if the night ends the way this one did.”

[twd-bee3]

At Midnight

Summary: You wake up from a nightmare, and Daryl immediately soothes you. This is a softer side of him that is reserved for you.

Warnings/Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season seven, no use of y/n

Word count: 677 words

A/N: The prompt for this piece was created by @dixondisease. This was supposed to be posted yesterday for her account's anniversy, but I forgot. Even though I haven't posted any on this account, I love writing nightmare comfort fics!! I have written quite a few for many different characters. They were my favorite stories when I started reading fanfiction, which was about ten years ago. Anyway, enjoy a lighter piece <3.

You two had been sleeping peacefully when Daryl felt you start to shift beside him. You were whimpering softly and mumbling things that he couldn't quite understand. Your distress was obvious, and he woke up immediately. He pulled you closer and gently stroked your hair. You were shaking, and he could feel your damp skin.

“Shhh, you're okay. I got you, baby.”

Instinctively, you leaned into his touch, but your body was still tense. You were struggling to wake up, and Daryl could tell that you were deep in a nightmare. In an attempt to coax you out of that state, he kissed the top of your head and kept whispering.

“You're safe. It's just a dream, sweetheart. Wake up for me.”

You let out another small whine before your eyelids fluttered open, and you looked at Daryl. You'd started crying at some point, and you were still in a daze. For a moment, you glanced around your shared room as if you weren't sure where you were. You still weren't talking.

“It's okay, baby. We're in our home in Alexandria. You're here with me and I ain't lettin' nothin' happen to you.”

After a moment, you nodded and spoke softly. You were much more subdued than usual, and you still seemed a bit anxious. “Sorry. It felt like I was back there again.”

“I know, sweet girl. I know. You ain't there, though. You ain't never goin' back.

As he spoke, one hand was still stroking your hair, and the other had started rubbing gentle circles on your back. You'd had nightmares before, so he knew how to handle them. It never failed to make his chest ache, though. His girl was so fiery, and it was heartbreaking to see the fear in your eyes when you got like this.

You leaned into his touch and nodded slowly. The anxiety was still present, but Daryl's gentle care definitely lessened it. You always felt loved when he treated you like this - like you were something precious.

“I'm okay. Nothin' is gonna happen to me.”

Seeing that you were starting to calm down, he smiled softly and nodded back. “Exactly. I'm stayin' here with you and I ain't goin' nowhere.”

The panic had passed, and the wave of shame hit you. Even though Daryl always reassured you and had his own demons, you felt guilty. Your ex used to always complain that you were “too much”. You hadn't been with him in years, but his words had stuck with you.

“I'm sorry that you have to deal with me when I get like this. I should be over it by now.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You ain't gotta apologize for nothin'.”

Wanting to soothe you further, Daryl leaned closer and pressed soft kisses on various parts of your face. It always made you giggle when he did this, and tonight was no different. Your soft laughter filled the room, and it only encouraged him more.

You were squirming around, but it was obvious that you weren't making any real effort to get away from him. “Stop gettin' me. You're actin' like a crazy person.”

“Just for you, baby. Only for you.”

He'd stopped peppering your face with kisses, and you melted into his warm touch. You were still exhausted, and it would only be a matter of time before you were out again. Your eyelids were already feeling heavy.

Daryl could see the sleepy expression on your face, and he continued gently rubbing your back. His voice was always gruff, but it was much softer around his girl. He lay you back on his chest and made sure you were settled.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I ain't want you bitchin' 'bout bein' tired when you're on watch tomorrow.”

Rolling your eyes at his teasing, you snuggled against his chest and gently kissed the underside of his jaw. You would've come up with a smartass response, but your body felt heavy with fatigue. Instead, you mumbled softly and closed your eyes.

“Thank you for bein' here with me.”

“Always.”

[maybanksbaby]

where jj actually gets his so dreamed surf trip .ᐟ

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

If fifteen-year-old JJ could see him now — hair sun-bleached, cut-off board shorts, and the prettiest girl he’s ever seen hogging the hammock — he’d lose his shit.

Because somehow, against all odds, JJ Maybank made it to freaking Yucatán.

No cops. No screaming dad. No trouble. No boat chases. Just you, him, and the waves.

“Tell me again how I’m not dreaming,” JJ said, dropping beside you in the sand with a dramatic oof, wiping salt water from his face. “Like, you see this? This is real, right?”

You turned your head and gave him that sleepy smile he swore could make the tide roll in. “It’s real, J.”

“Okay, cool, just checking.” He threw himself backwards with a groan, half his body sprawled across your towel, the other half in the sand like he gave zero fucks — which he didn’t. “'Cause I swear to God, if I wake up back in OBX with some Kook’s boot on my neck and JB yelling about treasure, I’m gonna throw hands with the universe.”

You laughed, soft and breathy, and laid your head on his chest.

He grinned at the sky like he won the lottery.

The surf was perfect that day.

And JJ was, in his words, “ripping it like Kelly Slater if he grew up on instant ramen and trauma.”

You mostly stuck to watching. Not that you didn’t try — you had, and he’d coached you with way more patience than anyone expected from someone who fights first and thinks never.

“You gotta trust the board, baby,” he called from the water, standing knee-deep like a golden retriever in human form. “And yourself! The ocean’s not out to get you.”

“It tried to eat me yesterday.”

“That was one wave. It was barely taller than you. Don’t slander Poseidon like that.”

You flipped him off playfully, and he beamed like it was the most romantic thing you’d ever done.

Eventually, you caught one. Not huge, but you stayed on your feet, and JJ lost his mind.

“THAT’S MY GIRL!” he bellowed from the shallows, arms up like you'd just won the Olympics. “Marry me! Right now! I’ll carve us rings out of coconut shells! I swear!”

You almost fell off laughing.

⋆

Back at the little cabin, JJ was sunburned and happy.

He was shirtless — always — sitting cross-legged on the bed, trying to roll a joint with a mango popsicle in his mouth and sand still on his knees. You walked in from the outdoor shower in one of his t-shirts, hair wet and skin glowy, and he nearly dropped both the paper and the popsicle.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered around the stick. “Are you trying to kill me?”

You blinked innocently. “I rinsed off.”

JJ dragged a hand down his face. “No, you ruined me. I’m in pain. Like actual heart palpitations. My chest hurts. Call someone.”

You laughed and climbed onto the bed beside him, legs folded under you.

He immediately dropped the mango, joint forgotten, and pulled you into his lap like it was second nature. His hands slid under the hem of the shirt, just resting warm on your thighs.

For once, JJ was quiet.

“I used to dream about this,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “Not just Yucatán. You. Here. Like…me finally getting a shot to breathe, and you still wanting to be with me when I do.”

You leaned your cheek against his curls. “You deserve this, JJ. You deserve everything.”

He didn’t respond with words.

Just held you tighter, like he was afraid the moment might slip through his fingers.

That night, you ended up falling asleep in a tangled mess of limbs, sand still on your ankles, the ocean still whispering outside.

But just before you drifted off, JJ shifted. Pressed a soft kiss to your collarbone.

And then, low and clumsy, like it caught in his throat:

“I love you, sunshine.”

You barely opened your eyes, but you heard it. Felt it. Breathed it.

“Love you too, JJ.”

The waves kept rolling.

The world stayed quiet.

And for once — finally — JJ Maybank had nothing to run from.

Only something to run toward.

( @bittersweetfawn ) gave me this idea! thank u pretty 🩷

[rhaenyraeri]

rainy mornings and a new kitten - jack o’connell x reader

it’s all fluff!! just a sweet little raining morning with jack and the kitten he tells you he didn’t really like :)

i got a new kitten yesterday and i just couldn’t stop imagining jack with one hehe

the rain started right before dawn. the light tapping of the drops hitting the window would’ve lulled the two of you back to sleep had it not been for the tiniest of chirps and a slight weight bouncing on the bed.

you stirred under the sheets, snuggling closer to jack as you hooked your leg farther over his.

“not again,” he groaned faintly, raising his head to look down at the tiniest little ball of fluff making it’s way up the bed.

you looked down, in just enough time to see the kitten climb up jack’s side and walk up his stomach— it’s newfound favorite resting spot. as much as he denied it.

the kitten stretched out, the little arms kneading into jack’s exposed chest. “hey,” he muttered, shaking his head lightly. “got no manners, do ya?”

“the baby just wants in, it’s cold in here,” you said through a sleep laced smile. you’d had the kitten just under a week, and it’s taken to the both of you quicker than expected— especially jack. he thinks you didn’t notice, but the first night of having the kitten home, he held it like a baby and muttered quiet words of admiration. the little meows were just too cute to not fall for.

“cold? it’s got fur, that what it’s meant for.”

he grunts, tightening the arm he had wrapped around you. he squinted at the kitten, shaking his head slightly.

“i let you up here one time, yeah? and this is how i’m repaid? thinkin’ this is your bed,” the kitten walked closer to his face, meowing right in front of him, “one time.”

a little paw reached out ahead of its little body, placing itself right onto his cheek. he took a deep breath, before using his other free hand to run along the kitten’s soft fur.

“see? i knew you didn’t mind the little thing,” you said, reaching your own hand up to scratch under its chin.

“mmhmm, s’pose not, love,” he finally agreed. the little paw still resting on his cheek was now taken between his fingers, massaging the little pads, “emotional manipulation, this is.”

the rain started to become heavier, and the light purring turned into the sound of a little engine. the kitten’s eyes slowly started to close, laying it’s head on his chest and getting comfortable.

“she learned from the best. she’s got the nicest spot here,” you hummed, admiring the scene before you. something so domestic, so grounding. it’s refreshing for the both of you to have a day with no chores or errands, nothing job related or important to do. just the two of you and the newest addition to your family. it felt nice. your eyes slowly started to close, the comforting feeling luring you back to sleep.

“the baby’s claimed the spot forever, you know that, right?”

“yeah, i figured. ‘s not gonna move, is it?” his hand slowed on the kitten’s back. “can’t say i mind too bad.”

he turned his head, giving you a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for just a few seconds.

“told you that you were soft,” you smiled, nestling your face closer to jack.

“well, the kitten’s warm and doesn’t talk back. unlike someone i know,” he trailed off, warranting a little flick to the neck from you.

“i’m just kidding, love. worst part is,” he murmured, voice getting quieter as the peace coursed over him, “i don’t even mind.”

[leashybebes]

several sentences smonday

tagged by @ambernotember, @rcmclachlan and @liminalmemories21 - thanks, gang. made some decent progress on allying yesterday so here's a little more of buck being the one going through it while tommy's happily oblivious (we love a role reversal!) special guest star: the author's barely disguised longing for thai food

"Hey," Tommy says. "This place looks great. You know I'd have been happy with the usual street meat, right? What's the occasion?"

There's an opening right there, but Buck hears himself say, "N-no occasion. Just heard Hen talking about it and I thought it sounded cool."

"Awesome. Did she have any recommendations?"

"The kang pah with catfish is supposed to be really good."

"Cool. I would fight god for even a mediocre massaman curry, honestly, so we should get something with a little spice too," Tommy says. "We can share?"

Buck files that away for future reference. He doesn't know if massaman curry is in Bobby's repertoire, but maybe he can figure it out himself. God, he wants to kick himself, thinking back on the way he had Bobby help him cook up a feast for Tommy when he got hurt, so eager to deliver it and share it with Tommy and - how didn't he know, he wonders, for approximately the seventy five thousandth time.

Tommy's leaning forward a little so they can look at the same menu, the low light making him look just - breathtaking. Like, Buck literally cannot get a proper breath and he wipes his hands on his slacks under the table, agrees to Tommy's appetizer choices without really hearing them because he's so fixated on Tommy's hand as he points out options, his short, neat fingernails, the hangnail at the base of his index finger.

Tommy has such good hands - they're capable and sturdy and strong and flecked with scars and freckles from work and time outside, and his fingers are big and blunt and - Buck wants to hold his hand so badly it's making him crazy. He can almost see it - the way their fingers would look intertwined, the way Tommy's knuckles would flex when he squeezed.

He could reach out, take Tommy's hand. That would - that would make it clear, right? If he reached out and slotted his fingers through Tommy's, that would say it for him. But it won't, will it? If he reaches out and takes Tommy's hand he'll probably just get a weird look in response. God, they blurred those lines so comprehensively that Buck isn't sure if there's any way back. The idea makes him feel miserable, and he only startles out of it when the server comes to take their order.

Tommy rattles off the appetizers and entrees Buck apparently agreed to while deep in the fog of the most PG fantasy he's had in years. Tommy launches into a story about his latest shift and Buck nods, makes affirmative noises in the right places, takes slow sips of his water, tries to calm the fuck down. How can it possibly be so much easier to fuck Tommy, to get fucked by Tommy than to have a conversation with him about what he wants?

"So uh - h-how was your date?" Buck asks. He kind of desperately does not want to know, but he guesses if Tommy met the love of his life last night he should probably know about it.

"Yeah, it was nice," Tommy says with a shrug, and something in Buck settles. Nice doesn't scream 'whirlwind romance of the century, eloping to Vegas next weekend'.

"You gonna see him again?"

"Well. Not for a date," Tommy says with a smirk, and Buck abruptly feels like his insides are on fire.

no pressure whatever day it is tags for @trombonechurchill, @setmeatopthepyre and @bidisasterevankinard