#I’m not supposed to feel feelings like this

[fxymi]

okay pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda, rin is beyond obsessed with you and your pussy.

rin, regardless of how much of an egoist he is, has never touched a girl. sure, he’s gorgeous n all but his personality doesn’t exactly scream “welcoming” and “lovely”, which is why he’s thrilled that he landed an angel like you.

you’re his first love, his first girlfriend, his first kiss, his first everything—of course he’s obsessed. he doesn’t just want you, he needs you. really, he’s convinced he’ll die if you ever leave him.

he’s devoted to you and solely you, and you are just as down bad for him as he is for you. that’s why it’s his job to take care of you and your needy little cunt that he just can’t seem to get enough of! <3

you had a bad day? no worries, he’ll pound his cock into you until you’re practically clawing at the sheets, crying and begging for more, and the only thing on your mind now is rin looking down at you through his lashes as he makes you cum one more time.

he leans down and presses chaste kisses to your jaw while you ride out your orgasm and brushes away any hair falling over your face.

“feel better?” he mumbles against the skin of your neck that’s glistening with sweat.

of course the answer is yes. if your voice isn’t too hoarse to say so, at least.

tired? he doesn’t just make cringy trash talk with his mouth, so he’ll gladly get on his knees in front of you and needily lap and suck at your clit while you weave your fingers through hair and tug on it. your thighs are clenching around his head and of course, even though he’s doing his best for you, he’ll complain about it a little.

“quit it,” he grunts, forcefully parting your thighs with his arms.

his tongue skilfully works past your folds and at your soaking pussy. he doesn’t care that his nose and lips are glossy with your arousal, he’s just focused on knowing that he’s making you feel this good. you tug on his hair a little harder, head tilting back as you let out a moan that basically shakes your body.

rin thought you were tired?

and if you’re in the mood? if you just get so needy for him? he’ll gladly oblige, no matter how busy he is. even if this means leaving you begging for his cock, you should be grateful that he’s fingering you so well and letting you cum ^^

“rin—hah—please…need you inside me,” you whine out, squirming against the soft silk sheets of the bed.

rin’s sat beside you—one hand flipping through the book he had to read for english, and the other one pistoled and almost idly pumping in and out of your hole while his thumb slowly rubs circles right above your clit.

he shoots you a sharp glare while your incessant begging interrupts whatever jay gatsby was rattling off about on the pages.

“i’m a little preoccupied, if you couldn’t tell,” he says flatly. “jesus, ‘thought you’d be grateful that i’m even taking care of your slutty fuckin’ cunt right now.”

you let out a soft noise of protest? or maybe it was just another needy mewl? whatever it was, rin sighs and caves. how was he supposed to resist when you looked at him all teary-eyed and sounded so desperate, just for him? he loved you too much for this.

“if you can stay quiet until i finish this chapter, ill give you what you want. but only if you shut up and let me get through this.”

[fairqves]

୨୧ PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

───── IN WHICH your ex boyfriend attempts to win you back with multiple case scenarios!

(🐰) ⟡ 𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘 — ex! 𝓈unghoon & 𝑓! reader .. fluff exes 2 lovers ♡ ◞ wc 1.4K 𓂅 warnings : profanities, kissing.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

BREAKING UP WITH PARK SUNGHOON WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A POWER MOVE.

you were the girl everyone wanted to be—class president, head cheerleader, the girl who never seemed to have a bad hair day.

dating sunghoon, the captain of the school’s ice hockey team, had been the ultimate match.

you were quite literally the golden couple, with his icy, cold demeanor balanced by your warm, bubbly personality. on the outside, you two were perfect.

but on the inside? that was another story.

the breakup took place two weeks ago, and the sheer memory of it still made you grit your teeth. ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

“why do you even want to be with me, hoon?” you’d finally snapped after one of his annoyed, cold and distant replies during an argument. you were frustrated to say the least, tired of feeling like your relationship was more about image than anything real.

“do you actually care about me? or do you just care about being the ‘perfect couple’? or the way we look together?”

sunghoon had stood there, frozen as if he were one of the ice sculptures at his hockey matches, completely silent. that had been the last and final straw for you.

“you know what?” you said grabbing your bag aggressively, holding back tears. “forget it. i don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t care enough to fight for me.”

and that was that—you left.

you expected sunghoon to move on quickly, thinking the longest he’d mourn your relationship for would be a few weeks maximum.

he didn’t seem like the type to get hung up on anything, let alone an ex girlfriend. but much to your surprise, that’s not what happened.

ACT 01:

the first time you realized park sunghoon wasn’t going to let you go so easily was during a typical school week hockey game.

it was a friday night, and the rink was packed with everyone on campus—and the rival teams supporters.

you had gone to support your best friend yujins’ boyfriend, one of the players on the same team as sunghoon, and you were trying your best to ignore the way your heart clenched every time you caught a glimpse of sunghoon skating oh-so ethereally across the ice.

he looked as composed as ever—as if the breakup didn’t phase him in any way whatsoever.

his jaw was clenched in determination, his movements were calculated and precise—but when the puck slid toward him in the third period of the game, he completely missed it.

“whoa, that’s not normal..is sunghoon okay?” yujin whispered, leaning closer to you.

you frowned. “i don’t know. that’s not like him.”

what happened next made your jaw drop. instead of chasing after the puck, sunghoon skated straight to where you were sitting in the stands.

“what is he—”

before you could finish, he stopped in front of you, his helmet tucked under his arm, and called out:

“y/n!”

the crowd fell silent, all eyes darting onto you. your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“what?” you hissed.

“can we talk?” he said, his voice echoing through the rink.

you stood up, shocked to the core and glaring at him with bewilderment. “are you serious right now? you’re literally in the middle of a game!”

“of course i’m serious—i’m serious about you,” he shot back, his face completely straight and blank as if his words held no weight whatsoever.

someone in the crowd whistled, and in this very moment you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

“you’re fucking insane,” you muttered before storming off with embarrassment.

ACT 02:

sunghoon’s next attempt came the following monday during lunch break—you were sitting at your usual table with yujin and a few of the other cheerleaders when he walked in, his hockey bag slung over his shoulder.

“uh oh…” yujin whispered, elbowing you. “ice boy at six o’clock.”

you turned just as sunghoon approached your table.

“y/n,” he said, his tone as pleading as ever, “can we talk please?”

“i’m eating,” you replied, not looking up from your tray—although most of it was gone already. “no problem. then i’ll talk,” he said, pulling a chair over to sit next to you.

“can’t he take a hint…” yujin mumbled beside you in amusement.

your friends were staring, barely concealing their grins and squeals as sunghoon reached into his bag and pulled out a carefully folded piece of lined paper. he cleared his throat, unfolding it.

you raised an eyebrow. “what’s that?”

“a list,” he said, holding it up with a proud and confident grin. “of reasons why we’re the perfect match.”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands with a whine. “sunghoon, no.”

“reason one,” he began, shushing you. “you love iced americanos. i hate iced americanos. opposites attract.”

your friends started giggling, and you shot them a warning look.

“reason two,” he continued, “you’re loud, and i’m quiet. we balance.”

“sunghoon—”

“reason three,” he said, his voice softening as he shyly rubbed the nape of his neck, “you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like… i don’t know—like i’m more than just the hockey guy.”

well—that caught you off guard. for a moment, you couldn’t think of a reply.

but of course, he then he ruined it by adding: “reason four, we look really good in pictures together.”

you glared at him, standing up and grabbing your tray. “yeah, no. i can’t do this right now.”

ACT 03: THE FINAL ATTEMPT

you had gone up to the schools rooftop during your free period, expecting to have a quiet break to yourself.

instead to your dismay, you found sunghoon sitting on the edge of the railing, holding a thermos and looking out at the freshly coated snowy campus.

“what are you doing here, sunghoon?” you asked, crossing your arms in exhaustion at the similar game of cat and mouse.

he turned, his expression unreadable to you. “i’m sorry..i just— i wanted to see you.”

you sighed, sitting down a few feet away from him. “you’ve seen me plenty. what do you want this time?”

“i want you to know that i’m truly sorry,” he said, his voice quiet as he played with his fingers nervously.

you looked at him, shocked and pleasantly surprised by the vulnerability in his tone.

“i’m know i’m not good at… talking about my feelings,” he admitted, fidgeting with the thermos. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t feel them.”

your chest tightened. “sunghoon—”

“i know i made you feel like you didn’t matter, and didn’t show you love,” he said, cutting you off.

“like i cared more about how we looked than how we felt. but that’s not true. you’ve always been more to me than..than the ‘perfect couple’ thing.”

you stared at him, the frustration and hurt you’d been grasping onto so tightly beginning to melt away.

“i don’t care if we’re a perfect couple,” you said softly. “i just need to know you care—i need to know if you truly care for me.”

he hesitated for a moment, then held out the thermos.

“i made hot chocolate,” he said. “because you always said you wanted someone to bring you hot chocolate on a cold day.”

you blinked, startled by the gesture. to a strangers eye—it was small. but to you, it was sunghoon telling you that he did in fact care.

“okay,” you said, taking the thermos.

“okay?” he repeated, hope flickering in his eyes.

you nodded, smiling and feeling a heavy weight off your shoulders for the first time in weeks. “okay.”

NO MORE ACTS.

by the next hockey game, the joy around school was back.

everyone was talking about how the ‘it’ couple was “official” again, and while you normally hated the childish gossip, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest every time someone mentioned it.

after the game, sunghoon skated over to your section, his helmet under his arm.

“hot chocolate after this?” he asked, a teasing grin tugging at his lips.

“sure,” you said, grinning.

as he turned to leave, he stopped and glanced back at you, his expression softer as his cheeks flushed pink. “can i get a kiss?”

you snorted. “no.”

“pleaseee?” he said, dragging out the word dramatically.

“no.”

“babe,” he whined, stepping closer to the railing. “please, please, please?”

you rolled your eyes, fighting off the grin making its way onto your face as you leaned over slightly. “fine, just one.”

the kiss was short and quick, barely more than a brush of your lips against his—but when you pulled back, the sight of his smile was so bright that you couldn’t help but laugh in adoration.

“you’re so stupid,” you said, shaking your head.

“and you love it,” he replied, skating away with a hand blown kiss.

you couldn’t deny that.

© FAIRQVES 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

NOTE. new layout WOOHOO !! semester two has been violently kicking my ass and it’s only been 2 days… idk anymore guys i’m severely unhappy and have 818282 mental breakdowns a day but oh well 😞✊

୨୧ TAGLIST ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft @ancnymcnzjy @dazzlingjaeyun : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: "Body Shots & Basketball"

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Rating: Mature ( MIDNI!!!)

Warning:wlw smut, mentions of alcohol, semi-public sex (fingering r reseving in bar bathroom), !panty theif Paige, !top Paige,!bottom reader, drunk sex, !purple strap Paige, lots of pet names

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: playing their favorite post-game drinking game: Who Would You Let? You and your friend. When the question turns extra spicy—choosing between Paige or Azzi for a body shot— you hesitates. But Paige overhears

“Okay, next question.”

I leaned back in my barstool, sipping my drink as my best friend grinned mischievously across from me. Ted’s was packed after the UConn women’s game, the usual post-victory energy buzzing through the air.

My best friend, always the instigator, tapped a manicured nail against her shot glass. “Who would you let take a body shot off you—Paige or Azzi?”

I choked on my drink. “Excuse me?”

She smirked. “You heard me.”

I shook my head, laughing. “Oh, you’re messy for that.”

“That’s the game! If you don’t answer, you take two shots. If you do, you gotta explain your reasoning.”

I glanced down at my nearly empty glass, then back up at her. “...Two shots?”

She nodded, raising a brow. “Unless you got an answer.”

I exhaled, pretending to think. “Okay, okay… Paige.”

She gasped dramatically. “Ooooh! You better explain yourself.”

I rolled my eyes. “First of all, both are insanely attractive, so it’s not an easy choice. But Paige is a little more… I don’t know, dangerous.”

My friend snorted. “Dangerous? Paige Bueckers?”

I shrugged, swirling my straw around my drink. “She’s got that flirty menace energy. Like, you know she’d talk her way into getting what she wants.”

“Well, well, well.”

I froze.

That was not my friend’s voice.

I turned slowly, and there she was—Paige Bueckers herself, standing right next to our table, a knowing smirk on her face.

My stomach plummeted.

She was holding a couple of drinks, clearly on her way back to her team, but now, she was watching me like I was the most entertaining thing in the bar.

“You think I’m a menace?” she asked, tilting her head.

My friend, the traitor, grinned. “Oh, she definitely does.”

I buried my face in my hands. “I hate you.”

Paige chuckled, sliding onto the empty stool beside me. “I feel like I deserve an explanation.”

I peeked at her through my fingers. “You were not supposed to hear that.”

“Yeah, well, I did,” she said, shrugging. “And now I’m curious.”

My friend, having the time of her life, nudged me. “Go on, tell her.”

I groaned, taking a long sip of my drink. “I just said you’ve got a little… flirty menace energy.”

Paige grinned. “That’s cute. I like that.”

My brain short-circuited.

Paige leaned in slightly, her voice low. “So, tell me, was that just a game, or do you actually mean it?”

I swallowed. “That depends… are you gonna let me live after this conversation?”

Paige laughed, tapping her fingers against the bar. “That depends… are you gonna let me take you out sometime?”

I blinked. “Wait. What?”

She smirked. “You heard me.”

My friend gasped, gripping my arm. “She manifested this.”

Paige pulled out her phone, sliding it toward me. “Put your number in.”

I hesitated for half a second before typing it in, handing the phone back. Paige looked at the screen, then back at me, grinning. “Perfect.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “We’ve got a table with the team in the back. You two should come hang out.”

My friend and I exchanged looks before she nodded eagerly. “Absolutely.”

Hanging out with the team was insane.

Between the drinks, the jokes, and the endless teasing over what Paige overheard, I was convinced my soul had left my body from sheer embarrassment.

Then Ice cleared her throat. “Alright, we’ve been talking about it long enough.”

I raised a brow. “Talking about what?”

Jana grinned, standing up. “We’re clearing a table.”

My stomach flipped. “For what?”

Paige stretched her arms, smirking. “For a body shot.”

I nearly choked on my drink.

KK whistled. “Damn, Paige really wasted no time.”

I waved my hands. “Hold on—”

Ice and Jana were already moving glasses aside, wiping down the wooden table.

Paige grinned at me. “Well? You picked me, didn’t you?”

My face was on fire. “I was just getting drunk, then!”

Paige shrugged. “So? You said it with your chest. Now let me take my prize.”

The entire team was eating this up, cheering and hyping Paige up.

Paige grabbed my hand, tugging me forward. “C’mon, baby. Let’s make this game official.”

My brain completely shut off at the way she said baby.

My friend shoved me. “Oh my God, just do it.”

I groaned. “Y’all are ridiculous.”

Paige just winked. “And you love it.”

I climbed onto the table after taking my cropped Bueckers jersey of revealing my black spaghetti strapped lace bralette bra, my heart pounding as Paige let out a low whistle as she grabbed the salt and a lime slice.

I barely had time to process before she leaned down, her breath warm against the skin on my neck, near my ear. “You ready, ma?”

I nodded weakly.

She smirked, dragging her tongue across my collarbone before sprinkling salt over it. My entire body broke out in chills.

The room roared.

KK shouted, “Oh, this is legendary.”

Paige took the shot of tequila, licking the salt off my skin before biting into the lime, taking it off my body all while keeping direct eye contact.

I forgot how to breathe.

The bar erupted, the team hollering and laughing while Paige pulled back, grinning.

She wiped her lips, tilting her head. “Still think I’m just a menace, prettygirl?”

I swallowed hard. “You are so dangerous.”

Paige chuckled, pulling me up into her arms. “You love it.”

My brain was mush. “I might.”

She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Then let’s see where this goes”

A fee mins later and a few more rounds Paige is whispering in my ear. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, her voice low and sultry, in my ear, pulling me back to reality. Without waiting for a response, she took my hand, leading me through the crowd and towards the bathroom at the back of the bar.

Once inside, the small space was dimly lit, and the scent of alcohol mixed with the faint smell of soap filled the air. Paige locked the door behind Us, and my heart raced more as I leaned against the cool tile wall, my pulse quickening with excitement.

“God, you're so pretty,” Paige murmured, her eyes dark with desire. I felt a flush of warmth spread through me as Paige stepped closer, our bodies almost touching. “Can I?” Paige asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers brushing against my right thigh.

“Yes,” I breathed, my mind swirling with the effects of the alcohol and the intensity of Paige’s gaze. Paige knelt before me, her hands guiding my legs apart just enough for her to settle between them. The thrill of being in a bathroom stall, hidden away from the world, only fueled the fire.

As Paige’s fingers danced along my hot, sensitive skin, I felt both nervous and exhilarated. “You’re so soft,” Paige cooed, her touch igniting sparks of pleasure coursing through my body. “I want to make you feel good, baby.”

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensations as Paige’s fingers found their way beneath my nylon/leather mini pencil skirt. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us in this secret moment. “Paige,” I gasped as she expertly teased me, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down my spine.

“Shh, pretty girl. Just let me take care of you,” Paige whispered, her voice dripping with affection and seduction, as she hook her fingers on my thin thong pulling it down swiftly. I stepped out if then only for her to stuff em in her back pocket, I could hardly think as I felt myself unraveling under Paige’s touch, 3 knuckles deep, thumb on my sensitive clit. She said cooing at my pussy, but holding eye contact with me.

The combination of alcohol and desire creating a heady mix that left me breathless.

But just as the pleasure began to mount, Paige pulled away, a mischievous grin on her face. “Let’s take this back to my dorm,” she suggested, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and without waiting for a response, she grabbed my hand and led me out of the bathroom, but not before making my lower only skirt covered lower body look decent.

Paige tapped Ice and let her know what what happening with her and I.

Ice giving us the smirk and nod of approval, even pushing us closer to the door of the bar.

The walk to Paige’s dorm felt like a dream, each step filled with anticipation. Once inside, Paige kick the door closed behind us. The dim light from the common room cast a soft glow, and I felt a rush of exhilaration as I took in the cozy space.

Paige turned to me, her gaze intense. “You trust me, right?” she asked, her voice low and sultry, as she led me to her room. I nodded, my heart racing as I watched Paige reach into her drawer and pull out a purple(lavender-ish) strap. The sight sent a thrill of excitement through me, and I swallowed hard, my body responding eagerly to the suggestion of what was to come.

“Good girl,” Paige purred, her eyes dark with desire. “Now, come here, pretty girl.” She beckoned me closer, her voice is smooth and coaxing, wrapping me into a trance.

As I stepped closer, Paige’s hands found my waist, pulling me in for a tender kiss. It was soft at first, a gentle exploration that quickly turned passionate as I melted against her. “You’re so beautiful, ma,” Paige murmured against myblips, showering me with pet names that sent delightful shivers coursing through my body.

With deliberate slowness, Paige guided me to the bed, our lips never breaking contact as they tumbled onto the soft sheets. “I want to make you feel amazing,” Paige whispered, her voice a husky promise that made my heart race.

“Yes please,” I breathed, my body aching for more. The alcohol had stripped away all of my inhibitions, leaving me vulnerable yet exhilarated, and I craved every bit of attention Paige was willing to give.

Paige took her time, running her hands over my body, teasing and exploring until I was a whimpering mess beneath her. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” Paige asked, her voice dripping with affection and desire. I nodded, a soft whimper escaping my lips as I felt the strap press against me.

“Tell me how you feel, baby,” Paige coaxed, her eyes locked onto mine, searching for reassurance and a connection that felt deeper than the physical.

“Full P, so full” I gasped, my breath hitching as Paige began to move, the sensation intense and overwhelming. “So good.”

“Just like that, mamas,” Paige encouraged, her voice a soothing balm against the waves of pleasure crashing over me. With each thrust, I felt myself spiraling, every sound, every touch amplifying the ecstasy building within her.

“Look at you, so beautiful,” Paige murmured, her hands gripping my hips as she guided our rhythm, the tension between Us palpable. “I love how you feel, baby. You’re mine tonight.”

“Fuckk, Pa-Paige so good,” I say holding in a moan. “Nah, ma let me hear them pretty lil moans.” I gasp letting out a moan when she slaps my clit lightly. Bucking my hips to meet the thrust of Paige's hips.

“Yes, so-fuckin good P.” I let out soft moans getting louder with each thrust. “Such a, pretty girl, with a pretty pussy.” I nod my head letting more whimpers fall from my mouth.

Paige could tell I was getting closer by the way my legs shook, the way my jaw is relaxed. My body shook, eyes rolling to the back of my head. “That's it mamas, cum on dick I think your can.” Clenching around the purple strap I let out an almost pornographic moan.

I could tell paige was getting close ad there thrust go sloppy, soon throwing her head back letting out the almost same moan I did.

“S..Shhit ma, did a good job for me. Yeah” Paige said after we rode out our high slowly pulling the strap of my pussy. “Mm, so good P.”

She carefully took the strap off, before walking to the bathroom and cleaning strap before coming back with a warm wet cloth. Gently either her and I holding eye contact she gently wiped me completely clean.

“Wow! That-that was-” I say, as Paige climbs in the bed with me and finishing my statement. “Amazing, it was amazing.”

“Yeah, Amazing.”

The first thing I noticed was warmth.

Not the kind that came from the sunlight peeking through the blinds or the heat of the comforter tangled around my legs—but the kind that came from another person.

Specifically, the 6’0” basketball menace currently wrapped around me like she had no plans of letting go.

I blinked, slowly adjusting to my surroundings. Paige’s dorm. Paige’s bed. Paige’s arm draped over my waist, her face buried in the crook of my neck.

Oh.

Last night came rushing back like a highlight reel: the game, the drinking, the body shot, Paige licking salt off my skin like it was her job—

I squeezed my eyes shut. Jesus Christ.

“You’re thinking really hard for someone who should just be enjoying the moment,” a raspy voice murmured against my shoulder.

I opened my eyes to find Paige peeking up at me, a lazy grin on her lips.

Her morning voice? Not fair.

I rolled onto my side, our faces inches apart. “You always this cuddly?”

Paige shrugged, fingers tracing absentminded circles on my hip. “Not really. Just with people I like.”

People she likes.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling like the air between us was heavier than before.

She must’ve noticed because her grin turned teasing. “What? You shy now? You didn’t seem shy when I was licking salt off you in front of half the team.”

I groaned, burying my face in her pillow. “I will actually pass away if you bring that up again.”

She laughed, tugging me closer. “Nah, I kinda like seeing you all flustered.”

I peeked up at her, biting my lip. “So… last night wasn’t just a drunken dare?”

Paige shook her head, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Nah, baby. That was me finally getting what I wanted.”

My heart stuttered.

I was so not prepared for Paige Bueckers to be this smooth first thing in the morning.

Still, I had to keep things light before my brain short-circuited completely. “Damn, what do you mean?”

Paige smirked. “I had a feeling, from the firt mom i saw you come out of communications with Azzi, if we'rebeung for reak here.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Okay, menace, sure.. the paige bueckers had a crush on mee.”

She tapped her chin, pretending to think. “Actually, I believe the term you used was flirty menace, and yes I did-do have a crush on you. Like you're somethin else ya know.”

“Oh my God—” I say covering my face to try and hide my embarrassment.

Paige grinned, rolling fully on top of me, arms caging me in. “You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

I stared up at her, my heart pounding. “You’re really cute when you’re not terrorizing me first thing in the morning.”

Paige chuckled, leaning in slightly, her nose brushing mine. “You love it.”

I exhaled, feeling her breath against my lips. “I might.”

Her eyes searched mine, something softer replacing the teasing glint she usually carried. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I meant what I said last night.”

I raised a brow. “Which part? You said a lot of reckless things.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips didn’t fade. “The part where I said I wanted to see where this goes.”

I felt my stomach flip. “You serious?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. I don’t do the whole ‘let’s pretend it didn’t happen’ thing. I like you. Always have. And if I’m being honest, I don’t really want to wake up without you in my bed. Now that ive had you.”

My brain was rapidly buffering.

Was Paige Bueckers—Paige Bueckers—asking me to be with her?

I swallowed, forcing myself to sound normal despite the emotional meltdown happening inside me. “So… if I were to ask you, what are we right now—”

Paige cut me off immediately. “We’re something special.”

My breath hitched.

She tilted her head, waiting. “Be my girl?”

I stared at her, every ounce of smartass energy draining from my body.

There was only one answer.

I reached up, running a hand through her messy blonde hair before pulling her down into a soft kiss.

Her lips curved against mine, like she already knew.

I smiled as I pulled back. “Yeah, Paige. I’ll be your girl.”

She kissed my temple with tenderness, before kissing all over my face giving my lips the final kiss.

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[garznx]

Lately, I’ve been feeling that pressure again. That urge to move faster, do more, be more. Like I’m supposed to have it all figured out by now. But I know that thinking like that doesn’t get me anywhere—it just burns me out.

Everything takes the time it takes. Growth, change, becoming the person I want to be—it’s not something I can force. Rushing it won’t make it happen any faster.

So I let myself breathe. I stop looking too far ahead, stop worrying about where I “should” be. Where I am right now is enough. I’ll get to where I’m going, but I don’t have to exhaust myself trying to speed there.

I move at my own pace. That’s the only way this will ever feel real.

STOP THINKING THERE IS A DEADLINE. THERE IS NO DEADLINE. TAKE A DEEP BREATH AND TAKE YOUR TIME.

[daeniradraconis]

Age Is Just a Number…Right? - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke. Age gap. Jack being a menace as usual, making sure you're not getting away that easy. Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, flirtation, age gap (6 years)

Note: Hey, lovelies! So, originally, this fic was all about Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith, but then I realized—Will is 19, and honestly, he’s just a baby to me. Even if he said he loves older woman. Boy go back to kinder garden. (Sorry Will, love you, I promise!) So, I decided to swap in the Hughes boys instead. I’ve gotta be honest, it gave me a bit of a headache. Now, this started as a quick, short fic. I swear, I had every intention of keeping it short. But, well… 7048 words later, here we are. I got hit with a ton of ideas and feelings, and the story just kind of... grew on me. You’ll probably notice the tone/style shifts halfway through, and I’m definitely sorry for that!

But hey, I hope you all enjoy it despite the wild ride! ❤️ For more fun: masterlist

The first thing you notice is warmth.

A heavy arm draped over your waist. The steady rise and fall of breath against the back of your neck. The scent of clean laundry, cologne, and something distinctly him clinging to the pillow beside you.

The second thing you notice—you are not in your own bed.

Your stomach flips as your brain reboots, sluggishly piecing together fragments of last night.

The blind date.

Luke.

His charming smile. The way his chestnut curls fell into his eyes when he laughed. The way he leaned in when you spoke, like you were the only person in the room. The teasing brush of his fingers against yours when he reached for his drink. The electricity that crackled between you when you finally caved—when he kissed you outside the bar, his hands firm at your waist, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then… more.

Your face burns as memory after memory floods in. His hands, his mouth, the way he whispered your name like it meant something.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

Carefully, you shift beneath the covers, untangling yourself from his hold. Luke stirs but doesn’t wake, his arm slipping away as you ease yourself upright.

That’s when it really hits you.

He looks so young.

His chestnut curls are a mess, his lips slightly parted, his entire face softened in sleep. He looks… peaceful. Innocent, almost.

A strange unease settles in your stomach.

Your gaze flickers around the unfamiliar room. It’s nice but lived-in—hockey gear shoved into the corner, a few discarded clothes on a chair. Your eyes land on the nightstand, where his wallet sits slightly open.

You don’t mean to snoop. You really don’t.

But something about last night nags at you.

Just a quick peek. Just to make sure.

Fingers trembling, you reach for it, flip it open.

And your heart stops.

Luke Hughes. Age: 21.

Twenty fucking one.

As in, young enough to still pull all-nighters for fun. As in, could still be in college.

And you? You are twenty-seven.

Oh. My. God.

Your hands fly to your phone as you furiously type out a message to your friend.

"WHAT THE HELL?! YOU SET ME UP WITH A 21-YEAR-OLD. I AM A GROWN WOMAN. I PAY FOR MY OWN HEALTH INSURANCE."

No response.

Coward.

Panic thrums in your veins as you stare at Luke—still peacefully asleep, completely unaware that you are having a full-blown identity crisis in his bed.

You need to leave. Now.

Right?

But for some reason, you hesitate.

Because Luke… Luke is the first guy in a long time who actually made you interested. Who made you laugh so hard you snorted into your drink. Who listened—really listened—when you talked, instead of just waiting for his turn to speak. And, well. The man or more like a boy, had managed to get you to orgasm. Twice!

Which, considering your track record, felt almost miraculous.

Your past partners had barely managed to get you there once—if at all.

And now you’re just supposed to sneak out of here like it never happened? Like he was just another bad decision?

Your stomach twists.

But then you glance at the wallet again. Twenty-one.

Yeah. You need to go.

Sliding out of bed as silently as possible, you scan the room for your clothes. Your shirt is on the floor, your jeans halfway under the bed. You grab them quickly, yanking them on with the precision of someone defusing a bomb. Bra? Found. Socks? One is missing, but you’ll live.

Once fully dressed, you tiptoe to the door. Your shoes. They’re outside the room. You remember kicking them off in the hallway.

One deep breath.

You ease the door open, peeking into the dimly lit living room.

Empty.

Good.

You take two careful steps out, eyes locked on your shoes near the front door. Almost there. Just a few more—

“Busted.”

You scream.

Not a blood-curdling horror movie scream, but a very real, very startled yelp that absolutely does not help you maintain any dignity in this situation.

Your body jolts like you’ve just been electrocuted, arms flailing wildly as you spin toward the voice.

There, sprawled across the couch, is a guy watching you like this is the best morning of his life.

Tall. Ridiculously handsome. Light brown hair, messy in a way that suggests he just woke up. Sharp cheekbones. Blue eyes filled with pure mischief.

And a smirk so unbearably smug that you immediately want to punch it off his face.

You clutch your chest, heart racing. “Jesus Christ, who the hell are you?!”

The guy grins wider. “Damn. Didn’t even recognize me? That hurts.”

“Am I supposed to?”You blink, still catching your breath.

His smirk falters for half a second before returning full force. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good.” He tilts his head, studying you like you’re some kind of rare specimen. “You actually have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Why the hell would I?” Your frown deepens.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, like this is somehow the greatest tragedy to ever befall him.

“You’re telling me,” he starts, sitting up slightly, resting his arms on his knees, fully entertained, “that you came home with my brother, slept with him, and have no idea who we are?”

Your stomach drops.

Brother?

You knew Luke had brothers—he mentioned it—but you had no idea they were famous.

Your eyes flick toward the bedroom, then back to him. “You’re—wait, you’re one of Luke’s brothers?”

He snorts. “Wow. No recognition at all. That is humbling.”

“Should I recognize you?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugs, mock-offended, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I guess I’m only one of the most famous people in this city.”

You blink, a little thrown off. “…You’re a local weatherman?”

He chokes, eyes widening. “A what?!”

“You’re acting like I should know you,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t keep up with the news, but you definitely have the vibe of a guy who points at maps for a living.”

He definitely doesn’t. If anything, he looks more like a kooky stripper with an annoyingly fit body. But there’s no way you’re feeding his ego—this idiot would probably take it as a compliment.

For a split second, he just stares at you, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Then, as if the tension snaps, he howls—full-body laughter, throwing his head back and wiping a fake tear from his eye.

“Oh my God,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You cross your arms, trying to mask the irritation bubbling up. “Glad I could contribute to your morning entertainment.”

“No, you don’t get it,” he says between gasps for air, leaning forward with an infectious grin. “This is amazing. Incredible. I live for moments like this.”

You raise an eyebrow, your patience wearing thin. “Moments like what?” you snap, unable to hide the rising edge in your voice. Honestly, you’re just relieved Luke didn’t inherit Jack’s over-the-top, obnoxious personality. If he had, you probably would’ve bailed on this blind date five minutes in.

“Moments where I get to witness something so spectacularly awkward, so painfully embarrassing, that it will sustain me for weeks.”

You glare at him with pure annoyance. “I hate you already.”

He clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch. That wounds me.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Oh, no doubt.” He smirks, and for a moment, it almost reminds you of Luke—though the two brothers couldn’t look more different. But that same confidante smile? It’s unmistakable. “Especially since I now have the upper hand in every conversation we ever have from here on out.”

“We’re never having another conversation after this!” You try to sound firm, but your voice cracks, betraying you.

He just grins wider, shaking his head like he’s heard that before. “That’s what you think.”

You exhale sharply, fed up with the entire exchange. “Look, I’m leaving. Forget you ever saw me.”

“Not a chance.” He leans back against the couch, thoroughly amused. “You’re trying to sneak out of my baby brother’s room like a damn criminal. This is gold.”

You scowl again. “I’m not sneaking out.” You fumble with your shoes, trying to get them on while defending yourself. Luckily, the hallway and living room are one open space, making your escape a bit less awkward.

“You literally just tiptoed past me like you’re starring in Mission Impossible.”

You groan. "I was trying not to wake him up." Rolling your eyes, you keep wrestling with your damn laces—of all times to betray you, it had to be now. Frustration bubbles up as you huff, "I need to go."

Jack cocks an eyebrow. "Why?"

You freeze mid-motion, exhaling hard through your nose. "...Just because."

"That's not an answer." His arms fold across his chest, his gaze pressing into you like he’s daring you to crack.

Your stomach twists. Heat rises to your face. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to give him the satisfaction—but the words rip out anyway.

“Because I just found out I slept with a 21-year-old, okay?! I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference! That’s a whole presidential term and a little extra! That’s a—”

You stop, realizing how ridiculous it sounds now that you're saying it.

Jack stares at you, blinking. There’s a long silence before you speak again, but his expression shows no understanding of the mental chaos you’re in.

You sigh and tug at your hair in frustration. “I wasn’t expecting this. I thought maybe he was older, and now… I just don’t know how to feel.”

Jack, for the first time, softens his teasing expression. But it’s clear he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying.

“Well,” he shrugs casually, “you’re still not leaving. You’re stuck here until Luke wakes up.”

“No, I’m not.” You shake your head, stubborn.

“Yes, you are!”

Before you can argue, you hear movement from the bedroom.

“Jack, why are you yelling?”

Shit.

You freeze.

Jack just grins wider.

You turn, and there he is—Luke, standing in the hallway, shirtless, hair an absolute mess, looking at you with adorable confusion.

Jack smirks. “Oh, you know. Just chatting with your date about how she was totally about to dip.”

“Wait. You’re leaving?” Luke’s voice is a mix of confusion and hurt, and suddenly, you feel a wave of guilt wash over you.

You shift awkwardly, caught in the middle of it all. “I just… didn’t want to wake you.”

Jack snickers. “Translation: she found out you’re barely legal and panicked.”

Luke’s eyes flick to his nightstand, where his wallet still sits open.

“…Wait. Is this about my age?" He sounds confused—adorably so. Too adorably.

You open your mouth, but Jack is already cackling.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Jack says, shaking his head. “She took one look at that ID and nearly had a full-blown existential crisis.”

Your face flushes deep red. Jesus, you really can’t stand that blue-eyed bastard.

Luke blinks, then sighs, clearly frustrated a little bit. “So, last night was… amazing, but now it’s a problem because I’m 21?”

You shift uneasily. “It’s not a problem, exactly. It’s just…”

Jack grins mischievously. “Hilarious?”

You glare at him, a mix of embarrassment and irritation burning through you. “Not the word I was going for.”

Luke tilts his head, watching you closely. “Did it feel weird last night?”

Your face instantly flames. “LUKE.”

Jack cackles. “Ohhh my God, this is so good.”

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just saying. You didn’t seem to mind my age when you were begging for—”

You lunge at him, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Jack, leaning in with barely contained joy, grins wider. “Oh, no, let’s hear it! This is the best! I live for this shit.”

You whip around, shooting daggers. “Do you really have to be here?”

Jack places a hand over his chest, feigning innocence. "Of course I do. I’m just the clueless bystander, watching your meltdown. It’s my duty as a brother. How else am I supposed to tease Lukey later?"

Luke licks his lips, glancing between you and Jack. “Wait… so you’re really freaking out over this?”

You sigh, your frustration starting to boil over. "I just… didn’t realize you were so young."

Jack snickers from the side, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, no, I think she’s just overthinking it. But hey, it’s cute.”

Luke shoots him a glare. “Jack.”

Jack raises his hands, completely unbothered. “I’m just here to state the obvious.”

You groan, feeling a headache start to form at the base of your skull. "Can I just… go? Please?" The words come out sharper than you mean, but you’re too tired to care.

Luke looks at you, his gaze softening with that same sleepy affection from last night. You almost hate how it makes your chest ache. "You really want to leave?"

You pause for a long moment, considering.

And truthfully?

No.

You don’t.

Last night wasn’t just a fling—it was Luke.

Luke, who had you laughing through dinner, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. He treated you like you were someone worth admiring, someone worth cherishing. And when he kissed you, it felt like the first rainstorm after a drought, washing away everything but the two of you.

And now he’s standing there, messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, looking at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going through your mind.

Jack, sensing the shift, leans back dramatically. “Ohhh, she’s thinking about it.”

You glare. “Shut up, Jack.”

Jack smirks like a little kid in the candy shop. “Nope.”

Luke lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face with both hands, his puppy like eyes softening as he looks at you. "Alright," he mutters, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Let me make you breakfast before you decide I’m too young to function."

Jack perks up from the couch. “Oh, hell yeah. Stay. Luke makes a mean omelet.”

Luke shoots Jack a teasing glare, his eyes rolling in exasperation as he half-smirks. "Why are you even involved in this?" he says, clearly annoyed but with a playful edge, like he can’t decide if he should laugh or strangle his brother.

Jack shrugs dramatically. “Because I live for chaos.”

You hesitate for a moment, staring at Luke as you battle the urge to stay or run.

“…Fine. One omelet.”

Jack fist-pumps the air. “YES.”

Luke grins like he’s already won. “Good. Because I was going to make you stay anyway.”

—

You don’t know how you ended up here.

One second, you were committed to sneaking out like a thief in the night. The next?

You’re standing in Luke Hughes’ kitchen, watching him move around with annoying ease, pulling eggs and cheese out of the fridge like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jack, of course, is sitting at the kitchen island, grinning like the mischievous idiot he is.

“You look tense,” he observes, propping his chin in his hand and resting his elbows on his knees. “Regretting staying already?”

You shoot him a withering look. “I regret a lot of things. Letting you talk this morning is at the top of the list.”

Jack gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ouch. And here I was, being such a warm and welcoming host.”

You roll your eyes. “You ambushed me.”

Jack shrugs casually, sipping his coffee. “Semantics.”

Luke, bless him, doesn’t engage. He simply smirks to himself as he cracks an egg into a pan, clearly used to Jack’s shenanigans. “Jack, are you actually gonna eat, or are you just here to be annoying?”

“Oh, I ate already. I’m just here for the show.”

You narrow your eyes at him, a smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You get some kind of thrill out of torturing me?”

He’s an asshole, but damn, he’s the kind of asshole that almost makes you laugh.

Jack flashes a devilish grin, clearly enjoying the chaos he's creating. "You're sharp. I like that. Smart women are way more fun to mess with." He leans back, arms crossed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as if he's already plotting his next move.

Luke huffs a laugh, the sound full of fond exasperation. He rolls his eyes, his messy hair falling into his face as he nudges Jack with his shoulder. “Just ignore him. He thrives on being a menace,” he says, shaking his head, but you can tell he's not actually mad.

Jack grins even wider, clearly proud of himself. “Yep. It’s what I do best,” he says, puffing out his chest like he’s just announced some kind of grand achievement.

You rest your elbows on the table, watching as Luke flips an omelet with impressive skill. “Okay, I’ll bite—how did you get so good at this?”

“Gotta learn some life skills when you live with Jack. Otherwise, you starve." He shoots his brother a pointed look, one that’s half annoyance, half fondness.

Jack scoffs, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest like he’s been wronged. "That’s unfair. I provide entertainment." His voice is teasing, but there’s a clear twinkle in his eye.

Luke snorts, barely stifling a laugh. "Entertainment doesn’t make up for the fact that you once tried to microwave a frozen pizza."

Your head snaps up at that, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "I’m sorry, what?"

Jack groans, cheeks flushing with a rare hint of embarrassment. "It was one time, and the oven took too long!" he mutters defensively, but you can see the red creeping up his neck.

Luke smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gestures vaguely toward the stove. "You almost burned the apartment down," he points out, no trace of sympathy in his voice.

Jack waves a dismissive hand. "That’s an exaggeration," he says, clearly attempting to downplay the incident, but his voice betrays the tiniest hint of guilt.

Luke shoots you a sly look, his eyes dancing with amusement as he leans in, like he’s about to let you in on a secret. “The microwave was smoking,” he adds, his voice dropping low, the tone almost playful—like he’s about to drop some juicy gossip.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "Oh my God."

Luke, clearly pleased with the chaos he’s caused, gestures at Jack with the spatula like he’s just won some kind of victory. "See? This is why I learned how to cook."

Jack grins wide, unbothered. "And I get to reap the benefits, so really, we both win," he says with a cheeky shrug, as if his utter lack of skill somehow balances out Luke’s culinary expertise.

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I don’t know how you put up with him."

Luke smirks,"It’s a daily struggle," he says, voice deadpan, but the small curve of his lips gives away the amusement he’s trying to hide.

Jack grins, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, the betrayal. I’m crushed,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though the smirk gives him away.

Luke just rolls his eyes and slides the finished omelet onto a plate before setting it down in front of you.

You look down at it, genuinely impressed by how perfect it looks. Then, you glance back at Luke, a little taken aback. "Not gonna lie… this looks really good."

Luke’s grin widens, his eyes briefly locking with yours, the kind of connection that makes the moment feel charged. "Told you."

You pick up your fork, still a little skeptical, and take a bite. Holy hell.

Your eyes go wide in surprise. "Oh my God. This is actually amazing."

Jack leans in, looking smug...again. "See? I wasn’t lying." He gives you a little wink, clearly basking in the moment like he’s somehow been proven right.

Luke smirks, pleased by the compliment. “I take my breakfast very seriously.”

“Clearly. This might be the best decision I’ve made today.” You shake your head, chewing.

Jack gasps dramatically. “Wow. So staying was a better decision than leaving?”

You pause, realizing what you just admitted.

Jack grins like he’s just scored a win, and for a second, you seriously consider wiping that smug look off his face.

Luke’s smile, however, is filled with pure happiness, as if this moment is exactly what he’s been waiting for.

You sigh, stabbing your omelet. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Jack beams. “Absolutely not.”

Luke leans closer, his voice suddenly lower, more intimate. “I mean, I’m glad you stayed. It’s not every day I get a pretty girl in my kitchen, making my morning way more interesting.”

You freeze, fork halfway to your mouth. His words hang in the air, electric.

“Oh, so now I’m ‘pretty,’ huh?” you tease, trying to maintain your composure, though your heart skips a beat.

Luke raises an eyebrow, a slow, confident smile curling on his lips. “Oh, I thought that was obvious.” His gaze flickers down to your lips, his voice dropping even lower. “You’ve been keeping me on my toes since I woke up.”

Your cheeks warm, but you force yourself to look away, focusing on your omelet. “Flattery won’t make me forget about you being 21.”

Luke’s grin widens, and he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you can hear. “Maybe not. But I think it’s a pretty good start.”

Jack, completely oblivious to the flirtation unfolding right under his nose, leans back on the kitchen island with a self-satisfied grin. “God, I can’t believe I’m witnessing this. I thought I was supposed to be the one who charmed the ladies.”

Luke snorts, rolling his eyes at his brother but keeping his focus on you. “Jack’s the type to talk about it. I’m the type to show it.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That was smooth. Really smooth.

You take another bite of your omelet, trying to hide the smile spreading across your face. “You sure you don’t just want me to stay for the food?”

Luke leans back, his gaze softening as he gently takes your left hand in his, his thumb slowly tracing circles over your knuckles. “I mean… if that’s your only reason for sticking around, I won’t complain,” he murmurs, a playful yet tender smile curving his lips. “But I like to think I’ve got more to offer than just my cooking skills.”

His words, along with the warmth in his eyes, wash over you like a wave, pulling you in deeper. You lock eyes with him, your breath catching as your pulse quickens. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it impossible to think straight.

Then Jack clears his throat loudly, and you break the spell, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Alright, alright,” Jack says, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s just caused. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone so you can finish your breakfast in peace. No need to make me a third wheel.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke doesn’t seem to mind. He just shrugs, unfazed.

“Good idea. Go entertain yourself, Jack.”

Jack winks. “Don’t mind if I do.” He stands up and heads for the door, adding, “You two just make sure to keep it PG—some of us don’t need to see that much chemistry before our coffee kicks in.”

You watch as Jack exits, still grinning like the mischievous brat he is.

As the door clicks behind Jack, the quiet of the kitchen settles in, leaving just you and Luke alone, the lingering tension between you two impossible to ignore. Luke shifts, his hands still resting on your hands as he pulls you gently into his lap. Your heart beats a little faster at the sudden closeness, but you refuse to let the thrill of it distract you from the conversation you know needs to happen.

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes—eyes that are soft but hold that familiar spark of mischief, the kind that makes it hard to think straight. He tilts his head slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he runs his thumb over your hand, tracing slow circles. The warmth of his touch makes your breath hitch, but you bite your lip, determined to have this talk.

“Luke,” you start, your voice softer than you intended, “We need to talk about last night. About... us.”

Luke's expression changes, the playful gleam fading into something more intense. He doesn’t pull away, though. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and his voice drops an octave. “I thought we were past talking. I thought we were just... enjoying each other.”

His words make your pulse quicken, but you hold firm. You need to address this.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice steady, though your chest betrays you with its nervous flutter. “I need to know where this is going, Luke. You’re 21, I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference. I’ve been through more in my life. I want a family soon. I want stability. Not... something fleeting.”

Luke’s gaze darkens, and his thumb continues its slow, soothing motion over your skin, but there’s a new intensity in his eyes. He’s quiet for a moment, absorbing your words. The air feels thick with unspoken thoughts, the weight of what you’ve just said hanging between you.

“You think I don’t want the same things?” he asks, his voice steady but with a sharp edge, not defensive—more... thoughtful. “I’m not some kid just looking for a fling. I’ve thought this through. I’m looking for something real. I’ve spent too much time in meaningless situations to want that anymore. I went to our date because I was looking for something serious. And my friend told me you’d be looking for the same thing.”

He lets your words settle, his eyes never leaving yours. “After spending the night talking with you, I felt like I wasn’t just talking to someone who’s interesting—I felt like I was talking to someone who gets it. Someone who’s looking for the same kind of connection. I’m not here for something that’ll fizzle out in a few weeks. I’m here because... I think you might be the person I’ve been waiting for.”

His words hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for. You’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond, but something stirs inside you. Something warm, something you didn’t expect. You can feel the truth of what he’s saying in your chest, and for the first time, you start to question the assumptions you’d made.

“Yeah, but you’re still figuring things out,” you say, your voice shaky now, a trace of worry creeping in. “You’re just starting out in life. Maybe you don’t want the same kind of commitment I do. I need someone who’s already ready to settle down.”

Luke doesn’t hesitate. His fingers slide up to your jaw, his touch firm but tender, like he’s grounding you to the moment. His gaze holds yours, no longer playful, but filled with something deeper. Something real.

“I’m ready for that,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of conviction. “I know what I want. And I want you. If you’re worried about my age, let me show you I’m more than just a number.”

His words are almost a whisper, but there’s a quiet confidence in them that sends a thrill through you. His lips are so close now, you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not asking for a lifetime yet, but I’m asking for the chance to prove myself. To prove that I’m capable of giving you the kind of future you want.”

You close your eyes, your breath catching in your throat. He’s not backing down, and the sincerity in his words leaves you no room to doubt him. But still, you can’t help but voice the doubts that swirl in your mind.

“I don’t want to get hurt, Luke,” you whisper, finally letting yourself admit the fear you’ve been pushing down. “I’ve been through enough heartache. And if you don’t want the same things I do, if you’re not ready for it... I don’t know if I can take that risk.”

Luke leans in just a little more, his lips brushing against your cheek before he pulls back slightly, his hands cradling your face. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his gaze. “I’m ready for you. Ready for everything that comes with it,” he says, his voice resolute. “I wouldn’t be here, sitting with you like this, if I wasn’t.”

You search his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. What you see instead is determination—an unspoken promise that, for all his age, he knows what he wants and is willing to fight for it.

The air between you two shifts, the quiet between you no longer heavy with doubt, but filled with something new. Something that makes your pulse race.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Then show me.”

At that, his lips crash against yours, the kiss deep and slow, filled with all the unspoken things you’ve both been dancing around. His hands slide to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. Your hands find their way to his curls, tugging him in as if you can’t get close enough. The world around you fades away—there’s only the feeling of his mouth against yours, the pressure of his body against yours, the shared certainty that whatever this is, it’s more than just physical.

When you finally pull away, both breathless, Luke grins, his forehead resting against yours. 

Luke leans back a little bit, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous glint as he watches you, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You know," he says casually, his voice thick with satisfaction, "I have to admit... I’ve never had a night quite like that. You really know how to use that beautiful mouth of yours."

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you mean?"

Luke shifts a little closer, his grin widening. "Well, I’ve had my fair share of nights, but... last night? You...You were next level. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to be that blown away."

You feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and flattery. "Really? Well, I kinda feel the same. I’ve never... finished two times in one night."

Luke’s eyes narrow in surprise. "What?! Baby, that wasn’t even that much. I think we can go for four or five next time." He winks, his tone playful, but there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You laugh, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "Is that so? You really think you can keep up?"

Luke smirks, leaning in just a little closer, his voice low and confident. "Oh, I’m definitely up for the challenge. You just wait."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. "Maybe this whole 'young boyfriend' thing isn’t such a bad idea after all... Good stamina and all that."

Luke grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Told ya!" He leans in, planting a series of quick, soft kisses across your face and neck, each one sending a delightful shiver through your skin. You can't help but laugh at his actions, brushing your nose against his cheek as your giggles mix with his gentle kisses.

Just as you're starting to recover from his playful assault, a voice slices through the moment like an ice-cold splash of water.

"Can you drop the sex talk, guys?" Jack's voice rings out from the kitchen doorway, dripping with disgust but clearly amused by the whole situation. "I didn’t need to know this much about my little brother."

You freeze, eyes wide, before you turn to Luke, who looks utterly unfazed, that smug, victorious grin plastered across his face. It’s as if he’s just won some kind of prize, and he's wearing it like a badge of honor.

Embarrassment creeps up your neck, but before you can even process the awkwardness, you find yourself laughing. The tension dissolves in the shared amusement of the moment. Luke just shrugs casually, looking way too pleased with himself.

"Relax, Jack. It’s called maturity," you reply with a wink, and Luke chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

Jack groans dramatically, rolling his eyes. "You two are gross. And seriously, for the future, we need some rules. These walls are way too thin. I do not need to hear you two in action. Thank God I wasn’t home yesterday."

You let out a horrified gasp, hiding your face in Luke’s neck. "Jesus, Jack," you mumble, half laughing, half mortified.

Luke just keeps laughing, clearly entertained by the situation. "You heard nothing. Just a couple of adults figuring things out," he teases.

Jack mutters something under his breath before calling out with a playful, exaggerated gag. "God, I need to vomit. You two are so disgusting."

"Guess this means you're sticking around, huh?" Luke whispers against your mouth, his voice low and warm, sending another wave of heat through you.

You nod, content, leaning into him with a soft smile. "Guess so," you murmur, brushing your lips against his in return.

Jack, clearly fed up with the display, huffs dramatically and walks away with an exaggerated sigh. "You two are the worst."

As he exits, you look up at Luke, feeling that warmth in your chest—the comfort, the excitement, all mixed together. You can get used to mornings like this, even if it means dealing with Jack’s teasing. Or, you think with a smirk, maybe you’ll just strangle him in his sleep. Problem solved.

Luke catches the glint in your eye and chuckles, clearly knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Careful,” he says with a playful smirk, “I’d hate to lose my new favourite person just because you can’t handle my brother.”

You laugh, pulling him in for one last kiss.

[blbyena]

boyfriend!mark x reader , friend!jaemin , coffee date

Fluff - 2,293 words

-

You're at a café with mark and jaemin, and the waiter has a crush on you...

It’s a rare free afternoon, and you, Mark, and Jaemin decide to grab coffee at a cozy little café. The place is warm and inviting, the scent of roasted beans and sweet pastries filling the air as you settle into your seats. Mark sits beside you, scrolling through the menu, while Jaemin is across from you, lazily stirring his iced americano.

A young waiter, probably around your age, comes over with a shy smile. “Hey, welcome! What can I get for you?”

You glance at Mark, who’s still busy looking at the menu, before turning back to the waiter. “I’ll have a caramel latte, please.”

He nods, then hesitates for a second before speaking again, his voice softer this time. “Good choice. But, um… I feel like someone as sweet as you would probably like it extra caramel-y, right?”

You blink, caught off guard by his tone, but before you can respond, Mark’s head snaps up so fast you think he might get whiplash.

“What?” Mark blurts out, staring at the waiter like he just heard the most unbelievable thing in the world.

Jaemin, snorts and looks between the two of them, already amused.

The waiter, clearly flustered but still trying, nervously chuckles. “Uh, just saying… I can make it extra sweet for you.”

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh at Mark’s face. His eyebrows are raised so high they might disappear into his hairline, and his jaw is slightly open, like he’s struggling to process what’s happening.

You can feel the energy shift immediately. Mark leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, and scoffs under his breath. “Wow.”

You thank the waiter politely, trying not to make it more awkward, but as he walks away, Mark turns to you, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“Are you—did he just—” He gestures toward the waiter, eyes wide. “Did he really just flirt with you right in front of me?”

Jaemin, always one to stir the pot, smirks. “He definitely did. That was bold.”

Mark shakes his head, looking personally offended. “No, because what was that? ‘Someone as sweet as you’? That’s actually insane.” he says, mimicking the younger boy.

You giggle, nudging him playfully. “Aww, are you jealous?”

Mark scoffs again, but the way he grips his cup a little tighter gives him away. “I’m not jealous,” he grumbles. “I’m just… shocked. Like, the audacity to flirt with my girlfriend while I’m literally sitting right here.”

Jaemin, absolutely loving this, leans in. “To be fair, you weren’t paying attention. He saw an opportunity.”

Mark shoots him a glare. “Not helping.”

You, feeling a little playful, decide to tease him further. “Well, maybe he just thought I looked cute today.”

Mark lets out a dry laugh. “Oh, I know you look cute today. But that’s not the point.” He leans in closer, his voice dropping as he stares at you. “You didn’t even shut him down.”

You grin. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, I only let my boyfriend call me sweet’?”

Mark pauses, eyes narrowing. “Yes?!?.”

Jaemin bursts into laughter, and you can’t help but giggle too. “You’re ridiculous,” you tease, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

Mark huffs, still sulking a little, but when the waiter returns with your drinks, you feel Mark subtly scoot closer, his knee knocking against yours. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he slides an arm over the back of your chair—casual yet very obvious—makes his message crystal clear.

When the waiter places your latte down, he gives you another shy glance. “Hope you like it,” he says softly.

Before you can even respond, Mark beats you to it. “Oh, she will,” he says smoothly, his voice just a little too firm.

The waiter blinks, glances between you two, then quickly nods before scurrying away.

Jaemin, nearly choking on his drink from laughter, claps Mark on the back. “You’re so dramatic.”

Mark ignores him, turning to you with a victorious smirk. “What? I was just making sure my girlfriend enjoys her drink.”

You roll your eyes, laughing as you take a sip. “Mmm, extra sweet. Just how I like it.”

Mark watches you for a second before leaning in, his voice lower now, teasing. “You do know I’m the only one allowed to make things sweet for you, right?”

Your heart flutters, but you play it cool, sipping your latte. “Mmhmm, of course.”

Mark leans even closer. “Good,” he murmurs,

eyes locked on yours. “Just making sure.”

You stand up from your seat, brushing crumbs off your lap as you head toward the counter to grab some napkins. Mark watches you go, still pouting slightly from the waiter’s earlier attempt at flirting with you. Jaemin just smirks, sipping his drink, clearly enjoying how riled up Mark is.

As you wait for the napkins, one of the café employees—a girl this time—approaches you with a sheepish smile.

“Hey, sorry if this is random, but… my coworker over there,” she subtly nods toward the waiter who had taken your order, “thinks you’re really cute. He was too shy to ask himself, so he wanted me to see if you’d be down to give him your number or socials.”

You blink, taken off guard, before letting out a small laugh. “Oh, that’s cute, but I actually have a boyfriend.” You glance back toward your table where Mark is still sulking, completely unaware of the conversation happening right now. “I’m really not interested."

The girl nods, smiling. “Ah, gotcha. No worries! I’ll let him know.”

You grab the napkins and make your way back to the table, still giggling at the absurdity of the situation. As soon as you sit down, Mark glances at you, still brooding.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, voice flat.

You slide the napkins onto the table and lean in, whispering just loud enough for him to hear. “You’re never gonna believe this, but one of the workers just came up to me and asked for my number.”

Mark’s face drops instantly.

Jaemin, who was mid-sip, actually coughs from laughing. “No way. Again?”

You nod, still grinning. “Apparently, the waiter from before was too shy to ask himself, so he got his coworker to do it for him.”

Mark just stares at you, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He leans back in his chair, running a hand down his face before crossing his arms again, looking even more sulky than before.

Jaemin cackles. “Bro, your girlfriend is a magnet today.”

Mark ignores him, his jaw clenched as he looks at you with an expression that’s half disbelief, half pure frustration. “So let me get this straight… Not only did that guy flirt with you right in front of me, but then he actually sent someone else to try and get your number?”

You bite your lip, stifling another laugh. “I mean… yeah, basically.”

Mark scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s insane. I—I don’t even know what to say right now.”

You reach for his hand, trying to soothe him. “Baby, relax. I told them I have a boyfriend, and I’m not interested. I shut it down immediately.”

Mark doesn’t look convinced. He lets you hold his hand, but he doesn’t squeeze back, still sulking hard. “Yeah, well, it’s not you I’m mad at,” he mutters, glaring toward the counter like the poor waiter just ruined his whole day. “It’s them.”

Jaemin, still thoroughly entertained, grins. “You should go up there and ask him for his number, just to even it out.”

Mark shoots him the most unimpressed look. “Not funny.”

You giggle, leaning closer to Mark, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Come on, don’t be mad. I only want you.”

Mark exhales through his nose, still not looking at you. “Mhm.”

You pout, leaning into him more, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Baby…”

He sighs, shifting in his seat, but still refuses to look at you. “Not talking to you.”

You grin at his childish response and decide to push your luck. You nuzzle against his shoulder, kissing the corner of his jaw this time. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

Mark groans, turning his head away from you, but his ears are visibly red. “I hate you.”

Jaemin snickers. “Lies.”

You giggle, sliding your arms around Mark’s waist now, pressing yourself against him. “You don’t hate me. You love me.”

He exhales sharply but doesn’t pull away. “Whatever.”

Jaemin leans back in his chair, watching the two of you with pure amusement. “This is better than the coffee.”

Mark finally glances at you, his pout still in full force. “I swear if one more person flirts with you today, we’re leaving.”

You smirk, kissing his cheek one last time. “Okay, okay. But for the record, I love when you get all jealous and pouty like this.”

Mark groans again, but this time, when you squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

As the afternoon winds down, you and the boys finish up your drinks, chatting lazily about random things. The café is quieter now, the warm glow of the setting sun spilling through the windows.

Just as you’re about to get up, the same waiter from earlier approaches with a small, shy smile. He quickly tidies up your table before glancing at you. “You can pay with me at the counter whenever you’re ready,” he says, his tone light but clearly directed at you.

You don’t respond, just nodding slightly while keeping your focus on your phone. Meanwhile, Mark—who has been tense this entire time—grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers, and pulls you up with him. You hold onto his bicep with your free hand, leaning slightly into him as you walk toward the counter together.

The waiter is still smiling at you as you approach, but you don’t return it, pretending to be distracted. Mark, however, doesn’t pretend anything. He tightens his grip on your hand, jaw clenched as he glares at the guy.

“I’ll pay for her,” Mark says flatly before you even have the chance to reach for your wallet. His tone leaves no room for argument.

The waiter hesitates for a second, then nods, punching in the total while Mark pulls out his card. You keep your eyes on your phone, but you can feel Mark’s lingering annoyance in the way he stands so close to you, his presence practically shielding you from the guy’s view.

As the transaction processes, Mark glances down at you, his tone shifting into something softer, more familiar. “You warm enough?” he asks, adjusting his stance so you’re even closer.

You glance up at him, smiling a little. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Mark hums, looking at you for a second before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. It’s casual, instinctive—like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

That’s when the waiter finally puts it together. His eyes widen slightly, realization dawning on his face as he looks between you and Mark. “Oh…” His voice is quiet, awkward. “I—I didn’t realize you two were… together.”

Mark doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Yeah,” he says simply, sliding his card back into his wallet. “We are.”

The waiter swallows, clearly embarrassed now. “Uh—sorry about earlier, man. I didn’t mean to—”

Mark just exhales through his nose, finally looking at him with an unimpressed expression. “It’s fine,” he mutters, though his face says otherwise.

You, still holding onto Mark’s bicep, decide to break the tension before things get more awkward. “Have a nice day,” you say politely, giving a small nod before turning back to Mark. “Let’s go?”

Mark doesn’t hesitate, wrapping an arm protectively around your waist as he guides you toward the exit. Jaemin—who has been silently enjoying the whole thing—follows behind, barely holding back his laughter.

Once you’re outside, Mark lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “I swear this was supposed to be a chill coffee date.”

Jaemin finally cracks, laughing. “Chill? Dude, I haven’t seen you this worked up in months.”

You giggle, squeezing Mark’s hand. “At least he apologized?”

Mark huffs, clearly still a little annoyed. “Yeah, after watching me kiss you.” He pauses, then mutters, “Should’ve done it sooner.”

Jaemin whistles. “Next time, just kiss her as soon as we sit down. Establish dominance.”

Mark gives him a deadpan look, but you can’t help but laugh. “Noted,” you tease, leaning into Mark’s side.

Mark sighs, finally shaking off his sulky mood as he tugs you closer. “Whatever. As long as you know you’re mine.”

You smile up at him, squeezing his hand. “Always.”

[snevinsspn]

don’t get me wrong i am a finale hater at my core but there’s something poetic about how it’s thoroughly established throughout the show that cas was the “malfunction” in the system that caused the story not to go the way chuck wanted it to by developing free will and rebelling from heaven and then the moment he dies the story ends with dean dying and sam living an “regular life” the way it would’ve if the series never happened at all

like the series spends a lot of time saying cas is NOT the way he’s supposed to be. he rebelled the moment he saved dean from hell. he turns the narrative on its head by developing free will and making his own decisions. chuck even tells him that this is the only universe in which cas “didn’t do as he was told”. he ruins chucks plan for the brothers at every turn by caring about them.

then moment cas was gone the story went back to the way it would’ve ended if the show never happened and he had never affected anything. like the “error” was deleted and it reverted to the way it “should be”. dean died tragically and stupidly on a hunt way too young doing a job for his father. sam got out and lived an “apple pie life” and died old. they went to heaven with their family and it’s all The Way It Should Be, not matching up with the message of found family the show developed and instead returning to the blood family vibe of the early seasons pre cas. like he died and the story stopped resisting chucks wishes. idk i’m just yapping but it feels like something

[nestofstraightlines]

I’ve always found Gaiman’s decisions and statements around GO rather tacky and sus, and it’s tempting to feel vindicated now it turns out he is in entirely unrelated ways a shit. But of course the emergence of separate crimes and abuses reveals nothing about this part of his life.

I’m just glad, if that’s the word, that Gaiman’s downfall removes him from his position as a handler of Pratchett’s legacy.

I really don’t like the Good Omens series but it was of course very popular. Probably the most popular adaptation of a book Gaiman (co)authored in recent years, and the adaptation he was most actively involved in. Given that Prime would surely be clamouring for a follow-up of sone kind to capitalise on the audience , and given so much of Gaiman’s own work has already been adapted for screen I had a vision of Gaiman moving on to overseeing adaptations of Pratchett’s own books for screen - and all in the vein of Good Omens. Agh.

On the whole mine is no more noble an objection than personal taste. But I will say my problems with the GO series were at base founded in the profound lack of understanding or respect the show paid to Pratchett’s craft, the craft he employed to make the book what it is as the clear senior creative voice in the books creation - that is, comedy as a storytelling form and art form.

No comedy personnel were employed in any key roles in the original series. Gaiman isn’t a comedy writer, Doug McKinnon has no experience in comedy directing, and the editors were likewise only versed in straight drama. I should give the production credit for course-correcting for the second series to some extent by bringing in John Finnemore as co-writer.

But for all Gaiman’s talk of honouring Pratchett with the adaptation, it doesn’t feel like this respect amounted to much when the adaptation treated as utterly disposable to working with the text the art form and skill set that Pratchett used to write it.

On the whole I don’t ascribe this to hubris or cynicism on Gaiman’s part, more him just not being very intelligent or skilled in the kind of storytelling forms we’re talking about here. I would say Gaiman is incredible in terms of his Sandman work and is elsewhere most successful where he works in a similar form to that - short story-ish neo-folk-tale stuff. He’s honestly just not in a similar league to Pratchett as a novelist. So I don’t quite blame him for not really having a basic recognition of what Pratchett is doing.

But the upshot is an adaptation that fundamentally disregards the author that Gaiman claimed to want to honour, and I’m relieved - supposing I ever had anything to worry about on this front, which pure conjecture on my part - that we are now at least guaranteed not to see any more Pratchett adaptation overseen by a man who hasn’t got a basic respect for - because he so totally lacks an understanding of - comedy storytelling.

There was an interesting thread on Bluesky dissecting Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's relationship

TL:DR - It seems like Gaiman has been exaggerating the level of closeness between them for YEARS

[mayanneaa]

gossip girl - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x reader

SUMMARY : you train jj to be a proper gossiper.

WARNING(S) : established relationship!! slight swearing but it's pure fluff!, not proofread

A/N : xoxo. my tummy hurts so fucking bad. also this one's ending might be a little shitty forgive me pls (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 1k

masterlist.

“JJ!” You exclaim, skipping through the Chateau, looking for your boyfriend. The air is sticky, filled with the smell of wood, salt, and beer.

You make your way through the living room and spot your boyfriend in the back, lying on one of the hammocks.

He covers his face with his arm, slowly bujając się.

“Jay, you have to hear this!”

JJ sits up the second he hears your voice, his eyes almost shut. “Hi, baby.”

He extends his arms, and you quickly hug him, leaving a peck on his lips.

“Okay, so you better hold on to this hammock, because—”

“Woah, woah. Wait,” he says, rubbing his eyes and ruszając się, trying to give you some space. “What’s going on?”

You grit your teeth while sitting on the edge of the worn-out material, not being able to keep this to yourself any longer. “Ugh, remember when I told you my mom asked me to go help the Jones? They just moved back here but without Ben.”

JJ furrows his brows, “Ben? The father…?”

You nod, “Yes! Well, their daughter is our age, and, by the way, she’s super sweet! Maybe I should invite her over here—”

“You’re drifting off the topic, baby.” JJ reminds you, now fully awake and interested in your story.

“Yeah, right. When I got there, she seemed kinda sad and annoyed, so as the good person that I am, I asked her what was wrong, and she spilled the whole tea! Everything!” You ramble, animating with your arms, and JJ watches your every move with a slight smile, clearly amused.

“She said her father cheated on Ms. Jones with a girl who’s barely 20! Do you understand that?!”

JJ giggles under his breath, lying back down. “Yeah. That’s so fucking messed up…”

“Right?” you say before you take a deep breath, “She mentioned that that side chick used to live here and that we might know her, but i have no idea who could that be.”

“Damn, you gossip like an old lady.” Your boyfriend says, pulling you to his chest. You gasp, dramatically placing your hand on your heart.

“I will find out. I mean, who cheats on such a beautiful woman like Ms. Jones? Especially this… this Ben? He looks like he sneaked onto the Earth—”

“Woah, woah, chill!”

You sit on the couch in your living room, sipping the juice from the recipe you just tried out and trying to get through a book when you get a notification.

With a sigh, you reach for your phone to read the message you got from JJ. He’s supposed to pick up his hoodie, which he left there last week.

A few minutes later the comfortable silence gets broken with the loud ring of the bell.

JJ doesn’t even hesitate, he just comes in without a second thought. You take a look at his face and can immediately tell he’s not in the best mood. He immediately comes up to you.

“Hi,” you say as he leans in to kiss the top of your head. “What’s up?”

He grunts, “I had to go and fix the AC at the Jones house. They were talking so fucking loud my head feels like exploding—”

You let out a gasp, and your eyes glisten. “At the Jones? What were they talking about?”

JJ squints his eyes, “Uhh I don’t know? I stopped paying attention after some man joined in.”

You look at him, disappointment mixed with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah, they were arguing so I just did my thing and left.”

You groan. “You are kidding me. JJ, you could’ve heard something about the drama!”

He widens his eyes, a sheepish smile crawling onto his lips. “Ohhh, right… I’m sorry, baby.”

Your lips form into a pout, and JJ raises his eyebrows. “Nuh-uh, don’t pout at me for this. I’m not a gossiper, you know that.”

“Well, I know, I know…”

“But I promise I’ll tell you anything I hear.”

You sigh and hug him, breathing in his scent. “You better.”

You don’t even know when did you drift off to sleep, sitting on the back porch at the Chateau. The soft breeze and whistles of wind put you to sleep like a lullaby.

The front doors close with a loud crack, announcing that JJ has returned from the shop. You and the Pogues were supposed to have dinner tonight, and your boyfriend had to go and buy all the missing ingredients.

“Baby, you won’t believe it!”

You slowly open your eyes, eyelids fluttering from the orange sunset sky. You hum, and JJ runs outside, the grocery bag still in his hand.

“Did you get everything?” You ask, stretching your arms with a yawn.

“Yeah, I think so, anyway…” He speaks so fast you have to gain your consciousness quickly in order to understand what he’s saying. “Guess who I met at the store!”

You squint, trying to come up with a name in your mind, still fogged up with sleep. “Rafe?”

JJ shakes his head and you click your tongue.

“Topper?”

“No!” he gets a bit frustrated, a sight that makes you laugh. “What was a thing you were super invested in?”

Your eyes widen. “The Jones?”

JJ’s grin grows even wider. “Yes! Oh my God, would you believe that the man I saw is actually Ms. Jones’ new boyfriend? And that’s not the best part. He’s Ben’s cousin who’s much more successful too! This man owns four different restaurants and has three houses in Asia, Europe, and South America. He’s crazy rich!”

You gasp. “Wow. You really clocked all of this, didn’t you?”

He looks at you, a proud look on his face. “Duh. It was so much fun!”

JJ starts to tell you the story about how he had to follow them in different isles to hear everything and in the meantime, you check the grocery bag.

“…Then they moved to the dairy fridges, so naturally I went after them and—”

“JJ.”

“Huh?”

“You forgot half of the products...”

[lazysoulwriter]

What Love is Supposed to Feel Like. - Pedro Pascal.

requested! hope u really like it. and remember: to be loved is to be respected.

The film set was buzzing with quiet activity as the crew prepared for the next scene. You sat in a chair off to the side, scrolling through your phone mindlessly, until a notification lit up the screen.

Your stomach dropped. It was a DM—from him.

"I cheated on you two times and you keep coming back. Do I need to do it a third time for you to develop some self-respect?"

A sharp inhale caught in your throat. Your hands trembled as you stared at the message, disbelief warring with the dull ache of betrayal. You thought you had gotten past this. Thought that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. But no. He had done it again. And this time, he was mocking you for staying.

"Hey."

Pedro's voice was warm, gentle. You hadn't noticed him approaching, but now he crouched down beside you, his eyes flicking between your face and the phone in your grip. "What’s going on?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words lodged in your throat. Tears blurred your vision as you exhaled shakily. Without thinking, you handed him the phone. He read the message, and the softness in his expression hardened into something else. Anger. Concern.

"You don’t deserve this," he murmured, setting your phone down on the table next to you. His hand found yours, grounding you. "You hear me? No one deserves this. Especially not you."

A tear slipped down your cheek. Pedro sighed, squeezing your hand before tugging you into a hug. It wasn’t rushed or awkward—just warm and steady, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. Like safety.

"He's an asshole," Pedro muttered into your hair. "And I swear, if I ever see him—"

A watery laugh escaped you. "You’d fight my ex for me?"

"Absolutely," he said without hesitation, pulling back just enough to look at you. "But more importantly, I’d remind you every day that you deserve better."

Months later, you realized just how right he was.

You sat curled up on Pedro’s couch, his arm draped lazily over your shoulders as the soft hum of music filled the space. He absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, his touch soothing and familiar. The past felt like a distant memory, a chapter closed.

"You seem happy," he mused, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You turned to him, heart swelling at the warmth in his gaze. "I am."

His smile was slow, teasing. "Think it has anything to do with me?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't deny it. "Maybe just a little."

Pedro chuckled, his fingers tilting your chin up before kissing you—slow and sweet, like he had all the time in the world to remind you how loved you were.

And for the first time in a long time, you knew you had found something real.

One evening, as you both sat on the balcony of his apartment, watching the city lights twinkle below, he turned to you with a serious expression. "Do you ever think about him anymore?"

You sighed, looking out at the skyline. "Not in the way I used to. There were nights where I’d lie awake, wondering what I did wrong. Why I wasn’t enough. But now... now I know it was never about me. It was about him. His choices. His flaws. Not mine."

Pedro nodded, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand. "I’m glad you see that. Because you are more than enough. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve you."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but this time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from gratitude. Happiness. You leaned into him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. "Thank you," you whispered.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "For what?"

"For showing me what love is supposed to feel like."

Pedro's arms tightened around you. "Anytime, mi amor. Anytime."

[richredapples]

How else am I supposed to write a character agonizing over every mistake they’ve ever made, if I don’t do the same thing myself.

This goes back to that one post floating around that was like “I was in the middle of a panic attack and fully paused, so I could write down what I was feeling.” Our art is always connected to our own emotions. I’m not saying you can’t write what you haven’t felt before, but it is incredibly difficult to do accurately and with compassion.

hey sexy what time do you plan on being done grieving

[dearru]

food for thought | o.miya

-> pairings: miya osamu x gn!reader | sfw | cw: none | genre: fluff | wc: 619 | mlist

-> synopsis: your boyfriend has odd eating habits, but it’s only because he loves you so much.

“You eat like you’ve been starved.”

“Hm?” Osamu remarks, shoveling onigiri into his mouth at a speed that makes you wonder how he hasn’t choked yet. The whir of the fridge rings faintly in your ear while you watch in amusement as he barely breathes between bites. It had become almost a ritual between you and your boyfriend to order in on cozy nights like these when neither you or him had the energy to cook.

It had also become routine for Osamu to scarf his food down in seconds while you pick at yours aimlessly.

“I said you eat like you‘ve just suffered through a famine,” you laugh, heart swelling with a soft affection. “Why?”

His chewing slows as he furrows his brow in contemplation. Swallowing, he slouches back in his seat and shrugs. “Force of habit, I guess. ‘Tsumu always stole my food if I wasn’t fast enough.”

“That makes sense,” you nod, though a nagging curiosity creeps into your head, accompanied by the urge to let it spill through your mouth. You wait for a beat before giving in to the feeling. Pressing your arms against the table, you lean forward.

“I have another question.”

Snorting, he fiddles with the little food that’s left on his plate. “Can I ask what compelled ya to analyze my eatin’ habits?”

Your eyes narrow, “‘Samu…”

“My bad,” he concedes, popping the last piece of onigiri into his mouth. “What’s the question?”

You pause, gesturing to the now-empty dish in front of him, “Have you noticed that you never rush through the food I cook for you?” Tilting your head, you add, “It’s only when we go out, or when you make stuff for yourself that you eat like this.”

Osamu doesn’t answer right away. He goes quiet for a moment, but he fills the silence by tapping his chopsticks against the table. Shifting languidly, he meets your expectant gaze and sighs, breaking the still. “I guess… it’s ‘cause I want the moment to last longer.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Y’know what I mean,” he replies, voice softening.

“I don’t.”

Groaning, he sets the utensils down to fork fingers through his hair. “Usually I’m the one that cooks, so when you do it—it’s special,” he explains, his lips parting slightly like he’s trying to find the right words to articulate an intricate thought. His eyes flicker down to his plate and back up to you. “I chew slower to show my appreciation. Sorta like how yer supposed to look at paintings in museums for a long time.”

Your chest pangs with surprise at his answer, and you raise your hand to inspect your now warm cheek. Gaping at him, slack-mouthed, his words echo through your head as silence stretches between the two of you once more. Despite being together for so long, Osamu’s words still could make you feel like you were floating.

When you finally speak, you can’t help but smile. “Are you comparing my cooking to a masterpiece?”

“No,” he quips, eyes twinkling with mirth, “That’d be offensive to artists.”

You gasp, “Rude!” But there’s no real feeling behind it. Giggling, you act on impulse and shove your half-finished plate of gyoza across the table towards him.

He hums, lips twisting upwards slightly. “What’re ya givin’ me this for?” His voice holds a fondness that makes you want to swoon.

“You’re cute. That’s why.”

Cocking his head at you, he smiles in appreciation. His nose is tinted pink from the steam that remains of your leftovers, and you find it unbelievably adorable. Chopsticks reaching to finish the food you had presented to him, he pauses to look up at you, catching your gaze once more.

“I think yer cuter.”

—a/n: picture me writing this and wailing in agony bcuz that’s exactly how it happened

requested to be tagged: @sahrii @mayyhaps (who also proofread this so shoutout may) @kameyyy

[bosbas]

Chapter 7: I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 2.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of pregnancy, ANGST!!!!!

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

July 13, 1812 - Waking up the past few days had been absolute torture. But waking up today and seeing the blood on your sheets was worse than any morning you’d ever had. 

A part of you was relieved. You had gotten your courses. You weren’t with child. You didn’t have to trap Anthony in a loveless marriage.

It was good news, right?

That’s what you were desperately repeating to yourself over and over as you sat in your bed sobbing uncontrollably. 

It truly was over then. There was no baby, and there would be no marriage. You’d be lucky if Anthony ever talked to you again, though you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. All because you thought it would be a fun game to dabble with someone’s real feelings.

What's more, your courses actually came a few days early. It was like the universe was completely and categorically rejecting the idea of a happy ending with Anthony. It was what you deserved, you supposed. At least the misery of not knowing was over.

To make matters worse, your crying was so loud that your father popped his head into your room, an extremely unusual occurrence. 

“What is all this ruckus?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”

Not having the time, energy, or desire to fully explain what was happening, and doubting he’d care, you told your father, “My courses came.”

“Oh,” he said, suddenly growing very uncomfortable. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

Predictable. He wasn’t one to get involved with women’s issues.

---

You had given yourself a few hours to mope around your home, mourning the loss of what could have been. But it was time to face your fears, and you headed over to the Bridgerton residence.

It was usually only a few minutes' walk, but you were dreading the impending conversation so much that it was almost fifteen minutes before you reached their front door.  

What scared you the most was that you had no idea how Anthony was going to take the news. You knew the responsibility was yours to go to the Bridgerton home and inform him, but you hadn’t seen him or Daphne since the day after your fateful ball.

As you reached their front entrance, before you could even knock, the door burst open and you saw Anthony standing in front of you. 

Not that you were in a position to enjoy it, but he looked exceedingly handsome. He was clearly on his way out to go to town, and you didn’t know whether to curse or thank the universe for putting him in front of you before he left for the day. 

“Oh!” you gasped, startled. “Um, hello, Anthony,” you greeted awkwardly. 

He just stared back, unmoving. He hadn’t been expecting to talk to you for at least a few more days and was entirely unprepared now.

“Daphne’s just inside,” he said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. 

“No, I’m here to speak with you, actually.”

“Oh,” he said simply, not giving away what he was feeling. It hadn't even been a week! Surely there was no news yet? Surely he could still hold out some hope?

He stepped outside and closed the door, allowing you two some privacy for the conversation you were about to have.

“I- Well, I just wanted to inform you that my courses came this morning,” you said, your voice wavering. 

“Oh,” he repeated. 

Was that really all he was going to say?

You cleared your throat stiffly. “And evidently no one saw us sneak off to the library the other night, otherwise we’d have heard the rumors by now.” A pause. “I suppose this means you won’t need to propose, then. And we can go our own ways.”

It was like your words ignited something in Anthony, and he finally moved to cross his arms in front of his chest, a prominent scowl on his face. 

“I suppose it does. Congratulations. Your little plan worked perfectly, then. Daphne was able to court a scumbag while you distracted me and remained perfectly detached.”

His angry words cut you deep. Almost out of habit when you needed comfort, you reached out for his broken hand that was still bandaged. He took a step back, almost looking panicked as he eyed your outstretched arm. 

You felt tears welling in your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. You deserved no sympathy from the man in front of you.

Blinking them away, you sniffed. “Anthony, I know nothing I say will ever make it up to you but I truly am sorry. It was never my intention to let it go on for so long.”

“And yet you did.”

“I did,” you replied, feeling ashamed. “But you must know, the time we did have together-”

But Anthony interrupted before you could continue. “I’ll be moving into bachelor’s lodgings as soon as possible. That way our paths won’t have to cross again unless there’s a big family event. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, and I sincerely hope you find a love match eventually.”

You choked back a sob. “Is this truly the last time we’ll talk?”

“I can hope,” he responded, cruelly echoing back the words you had said to him a few days ago. 

And with that, he pushed past you down the stairs, going toward his waiting carriage, not sparing you a second glance.

You were left crying outside of the Bridgertons’ door, head in your hands as you realized the gravity of Anthony’s statement. 

That was exactly how Violet found you twenty minutes later. 

“Oh no, my Y/N, what happened?” she asked, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders. 

You could only turn and sob into her shoulder, too shaken up to form any coherent words. 

Violet, bless her, rubbed your back soothingly as she led you back into her home, her afternoon of shopping completely forgotten now.

“Why don’t we ring for some tea and you can talk to me and Daphne about what’s bothering you?”

An hour later you had calmed down considerably and Daphne was in the middle of apologizing profusely for telling Anthony while Violet tried to process the information her daughter and her best friend had just divulged. You had scrubbed any mention of your escapade with Anthony from the story you told his mother, of course. But most other details remained accurate.

“It’s not your fault,” you waved away Daphne’s apology. “You only told him the truth. He was going to find out eventually, one way or another.”

“But it was my idea in the first place!” she insisted. “And a stupid one at that, seeing how things ended with Phillip.”

“Which we are not done discussing,” interjected Violet, still horrified that someone like him could treat her daughter that way. 

“Regardless, I would have come up with the idea myself and gone through with it if you hadn't,” you reassured her. “What’s done is done. I’m only sorry he’ll be leaving home.”

Daphne laughed and shook her head. “He’d been wanting to leave for ages. Besides, it’ll be nice to have some more peace and quiet around here.”

Always one to stay on topic, Violet kept up her line of questioning. “Why don’t the two of you get married still? Your feelings for him are clearly real, no matter how you ended up having them.”

Surprisingly, tears welled up in your eyes again After the day you’d had, you didn’t think you had any left in you, but the situation was just too dire not to cry over it. “He told me earlier he wishes to never speak with me again.”

Violet gasped. “That can’t be right, he would never say such a thing!”

You could only nod glumly, remembering his cold, uncaring eyes as he moved past you earlier that day. 

“I just can’t believe I ruined it all,” you cried. “It would have been so wonderful if only I hadn’t acted so carelessly.”

Violet tsked. “You wouldn’t have even looked at him in a romantic light if it weren’t for your silly plan. Who knows if things would have really been different.”

“At least I wouldn’t have a broken heart,” you said softly, wistfully looking out the window. 

“There is simply no world in which he can just forget how he feels about you,” insisted Daphne, trying to stay hopeful. 

“There’s nothing left,” you said, well aware of the situation you were in and rejecting any fantasies that would make you feel better temporarily. “I made the choices I made and I must live with them now.”

---

“Why is Y/N never round for dinner anymore?” asked Hyacinth suddenly one night. 

“Yes, I miss playing chess with her before I go to bed. No one else here seems to want to play,” complained Gregory, in a rare moment of agreement with his youngest sister.

“She does seem to have very suddenly stopped showing up,” said Francesca. She eyed Daphne and Anthony suspiciously, knowing one of the two was bound to be the cause of your absence. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t tell her to stop coming,” said Daphne, glaring at her older brother. 

Anthony laughed coldly. “That’s rich coming from you. You know exactly why she stopped showing up, and it’s not exactly my fault.”

“Anthony!” exclaimed Violet, shocked at the sudden outburst of anger.

“Forget it,” he grumbled, standing up from the dinner table and storming off to his study.

A few moments later, Violet knocked on the door of Anthony’s study, not waiting for a response before she slipped in and closed the door behind her. 

“You’re not truly angry,” she stated, not even posing it as a question.

“Yes, I am,” Anthony insisted. 

“Your anger conceals something deeper, and it might do you some good to let it out.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Anthony responded, but his voice lacked his previous conviction. “I am angry,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he tried to convince himself of his feelings. 

“It’s not a crime to feel things for someone, you know. Even when they don’t work out.”

“What is the point then? If they amount to nothing?” Anthony pressed, struggling to find a greater reason for the complete heartbreak he felt day in and day out. 

It was torture to be away from you, to be sure. But he knew he would never be able to hold it together if he saw you in the flesh. Regardless, that didn’t stop him from missing you. Your rosy perfume. The way you threw your head back when you laughed. How tightly your hands held his hand when you were anxious about something.

And that was what killed him. He’d had real and profound feelings for you. He thought that was it. That you were it. He’d thought he'd found the person he was going to marry. He’d found his present and his future and everything in betweem.

But it had all been a lie. And so the anger kept coming back. And he could do nothing to stop it. 

It was misplaced anger, he knew. At you, at the world, at the fact that your courses had come and you would not have his child, and at the fact that he could never have you in a way that truly mattered. 

“That is exactly what makes you human, Anthony. You can’t go around life expecting to never be hurt. It’s a rare thing to feel that way about someone.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s rare. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

“Anthony!” Violet gasped, scandalized. “Love is not a curse.”

“It certainly feels like one.”

“You could still be with her, you know. All this misplaced love, it’ll do you no good to keep it bottled up.”

“I can’t,” insisted Anthony, his voice breaking again. “I wanted to marry her still. I even asked her. I thought she’d love me back if I only had some time to convince her. But she didn’t want to marry me,” he confessed, succumbing to his feelings and putting his head in his hands as he cried. 

“Why don’t you try talking to her again?” suggested Violet, rubbing her son’s back comfortingly. 

“I can’t,” he replied, rubbing his eyes. “It’s for the better.”

—

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[kaiser1ns]

#. FOR NOW, THOUGH, HAKUNA MATATA

featuring 𝗶𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝘀𝗮𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 with 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗱𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝘆𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗶

fluff + slight suggestive. it didn’t matter how close they got as teammates or how many stupid jokes he cracked, sae’s focus was always on you.

Staying over at your best friend’s place, enjoying some peace and quiet without trying to hide from the paparazzi or him opening his mouth to say something giving his manager a ton of explanation to do about his rude behavior. You had decided to shower while Sae was running some errands. The warm water cascaded over you, your muscles relaxing as steam filled the small but luxurious bathroom. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you stepped out, wet hair clinging to your shoulders. You were just about to put on a face mask to help you relax to the fullest, feeling the cold ingredients soothing your skin when the front door opening startled you.  

Sae wasn’t supposed to be back yet.  

Heart pounding, you instinctively tightened the towel around your body and peeked out of the bathroom, expecting to see him but instead, you were met with a wide grin and cat-like pink eyes—Shidou Ryusei.  

“What the—?!” you shrieked, grabbing the nearest thing at hand, which was your slipper as you threw it at him out of reflex to protect yourself from stranger danger, even though the striker was no stranger to you.

“Woah! Feisty!” Shidou laughed, dodging your attack from where you were positioned in the corridor with the nearest safe place when he was not in your vision anymore as he settled on the couch instead. “I knew Sae had good taste, but damn—"  

“GET OUT!” you screamed, retreating as fast as your bare feet could take you. Slamming the bedroom door shut, turning the lock, breathing heavily as you wrapped your arms around your body. Without wasting another second, you grabbed your phone trembling, and called Sae.

The call barely rang twice before he finally decided to answer.  

“Why are you calling me? I’m almost home—”  

“What is your little pet doing here?!” you snapped, clutching the phone as if your life depended on it and right now it did. How can he just enter like he owns the place? Most importantly what was he even doing on a random Tuesday at nine o'clock in the morning, supposedly visiting Sae’s apartment... “What are you talking about?”  

“Shidou!” you hissed. “He just walked in! Into your apartment! While I’m practically naked!” You can practically hear Sae’s sigh through the phone and what you assume were the sound of cars’ engines—he was still somewhere outside. “Don’t panic. I’ll handle it.”  

“You better,” you snapped, trying your best not to panic when another man came uninvited when all you wanted was to be alone and wait for your best friend to be back so you could spend more time together. “Because if he tries anything, I’ll do more than throw a slipper at him.”  

On the other side of the door, Shidou’s voice rang out, teasing. “You know, I can hear you. Sae never said his place came with such entertainment!”  

You hung up, swearing under your breath. Quickly grabbed one of Sae's football shirts from his drawer—it was oversized, brushing against your thighs, the soft fabric smelling faintly of him. Pairing it with a pair of shorts you had brought along, you slung the towel over your arm and took a deep breath, preparing to be met with the intruder and whatever chaos he would create this time.

When you finally opened the door, your defenses were up, expecting some obnoxious comment or teasing smirk. Instead, you found Shidou lounging comfortably on the big couch, his feet kicked up on the coffee table as he scrolled through what you assume is TikTok.

You rolled your eyes. Typical.

Choosing to ignore him, walking to the fridge, your stomach growling. Surely Sae had left something for you to eat. Except... the fridge was nearly empty. You sighed, shutting the door a little too hard. You’d trusted him to stock it, and maybe grab you something to eat since this was supposed to be your day together, but apparently, someone had other plans.

Settling for the chocolate bar you found on the counter, you opened it and perched on one of the barstools, hoping to enjoy it in peace. But even with your back to him, you could feel his gaze burning into you.

“Can you stop staring at me?” you said, not bothering to turn around and grabbing your phone to watch videos in hopes of ignoring his presence but Shidou’s voice came with that same teasing tone. “What can I say? You’re pretty. Makes me wonder how someone like you has Itoshi Sae’s attention.”

The sudden compliment caught you off guard, and your eyes widened slightly as heat crept into your cheeks. Quickly, you brushed it off. “None of your business,” you snapped, finishing the chocolate bar in a single bite.

Silence fell, broken only by the occasional sound from Shidou’s phone. You stared at the empty wrapper in your hand, wishing Sae would hurry up and get back. This day was supposed to be about you and him—just hanging out, doing whatever you wanted.

Before you could sink further into your thoughts, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the apartment. Both of you froze, eyes snapping to the door. For a moment, you and Shidou locked gazes, silently challenging each other.

Then you both bolted toward the door.

“Move!” Shidou shouted, but you were faster, shoving him out of the way with your shoulder as you reached for the doorknob. Yanking it open you grinned up at Sae. “Welcome home, Sae~” you chirped, standing in the doorway like you just didn’t push someone visibly physically stronger than you in the wall.

The prodigy's unimpressed gaze flicked between the two of you, and you could already tell he was annoyed. “I don’t even want to know,” putting two big plastic bags on the floor and crossing his arms as he took a good look at the both of you, mostly at you and how good you looked in his jersey. It wasn’t the first time you wore his clothes, he hoped it was not the last with you smiling so innocently, stepping aside to let him in. “Oh, nothing. Just your little pet causing trouble, as usual.”

Behind you, Shidou groaned dramatically from where he’d stumbled, rubbing his shoulder. “She fights dirty, Sae. You should’ve warned me.”

“Save it,” the midfielder cut him off, already rubbing his temples like he regretted ever leaving you two alone when he didn’t know himself what Shidou was doing here but he would let it slide this time, he was not that annoying.

After Sae’s exasperated interrogation and a grudging apology from Shidou for barging in, the three of you settled in for lunch. It wasn’t anything fancy, he had picked up takeout on his way back and got your favorite dish. He just knows you so well. Eventually, after hours of doing nothing—more like not trying to get into another competition with Shidou for Sae’s attention when you lost only once when they talked about their teammates in the U-20, you enjoyed the gossip nevertheless.

Actually, Shidou isn't that bad, he is just another lost soul who seeks someone to understand him, but he couldn't get that understanding from you, especially not today when he decided to be a pain in the ass interrupting your alone time with the boy you had hearteyes for and it’s getting late, the perfect time for the three of you to settle on the couch and relax. No more competitions, no more talking back when you somehow convinced them to watch The Lion King.

You’d started it last night with Sae, cuddled up together under a blanket as you gently played with his hair. He’d fallen asleep right around Hakuna Matata, his bangs brushing against your fingers as you toyed with them. Now, as the opening notes of the song played again, you couldn’t help but glance over at him. His maroon hair was back to its usual styled look, held in place with hairspray, but you could still feel the softness from the night before.  

You nudged Sae’s side, making a subtle hint for his attention. He raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t say anything when you leaned your head against his shoulder. Your hand found his, your fingers brushing against his palm until he intertwined them with yours. A small, satisfied smile crept across your face as he played with your fingers, as he always does when you want physical intimacy.  

From the other side of the couch, Shidou’s gaze didn’t miss a thing. “Aw, don’t leave me out,” he leaned forward, dramatically resting his head on Sae’s other shoulder.  

“Do not even think about it,” Sae deadpanned without even looking at him.  

You smirked from behind Sae, meeting a pair of pink eyes with that smug look on your beautiful face. He could read your lips clearly as you mouthed, I told you, he likes me more. Shidou rolled his eyes, leaning back into his spot on the couch. “Whatever,” he muttered under his breath, crossing his arms. “Hakuna Matata, I guess. A life with no worries.”  

As the movie progressed, you shifted positions. By the time Can You Feel the Love Tonight started playing, you were stretched across the couch, your legs stretching out to the armrest and your head resting comfortably in Sae’s lap. He ran his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle as he focused on the screen. You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat when your eyes met. His teal gaze was soft, a rare expression that he reserved for only a select few, only for you. 

The scene on the screen mirrored the moment between you two: Simba and Nala finally being together after a long separation when the lioness gave him the look. You gave Sae the exact same look, and his fingers stilled in your hair for a second before resuming their slow, soothing rhythm. Shidou’s mouth opened wide in shock, raising his eyebrows and breaking the bubble you and Sae were in.  

“Are you two together or something?” he asked, leaning forward to look at the two of you.  

You didn’t hear him, too lost in Sae’s eyes and the soft touch, however he heard him loud and clear. Without breaking eye contact with you, he replied, “No.” Short, simple, and without any more explanation. But Shidou wasn’t stupid. He could see the complexity in that “no.” It wasn’t a denial—it was a warning sign. The kind of sign that said, This isn’t your business. It wasn’t the answer he expected. He tilted his head, studying the two of you. The way Sae looked at you, the way you seemed to melt under his touch—it was more complicated than simple.

Ah, so that’s how it was. You two were playing along with this whole best friend thing, but he knew now that he’d never truly have Sae’s attention outside the football field. It didn’t matter how close they got as teammates or how many stupid jokes he cracked; Sae’s focus was always on you no matter what.  

As Simba and Nala’s romantic moment faded into the third-wheeling antics of Timon and Pumbaa, Shidou sighed. He supposed he could relate, leaning back into the couch, his gaze shifting between you. He can see what's happening and you don't have a clue. Falling in love and here is the bottom line, the duo is now down to a singleplayer. The sweet caress of twilight, there's magic everywhere, and with all this romantic atmosphere ... Disaster's in the air.

You didn’t even acknowledge him, still too focused on your childhood crush. Shidou smirked faintly to himself. Yeah, he’d get used to it eventually. “Guess that makes me Timon,” he muttered under his breath. You glanced up at him briefly, a teasing grin pulling at your lips as he sighed, slumping deeper into the couch. Maybe, just like Timon and Pumbaa eventually came around to Nala, he’d get used to you too.

For now, though, Hakuna Matata.

The movie neared its end, the final battle between Simba and Scar playing out and you had fallen asleep at some point, your head still resting comfortably in Sae’s lap. His focus is split between the movie and the steady rise and fall of your breathing. You looked so peaceful like this, and he wasn’t about to move and disturb you.  

On the other side of the couch, Shidou was anything but peaceful. He stretched, groaning as the credits began to roll, signaling maybe he should roll out too. He had been patient all day, third-wheeling like a champ, but the sight of you nestled into Sae as if you belonged there was starting to rub him the wrong way.

Suddenly, he stood, making Sae look up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Where are you going?” your best friend asked, his voice low to avoid waking you.  

“Far from the Pride Lands,” Shidou quipped, a smirk playing on his lips. He had gotten way too into the movie, and the line slipped out before he could think twice about it. He glanced at your sleeping form, tempted to throw in a teasing remark, but he held back. The last thing he wanted was to get on Sae’s nerves.  

Sae rolled his eyes, his attention drifting back to you. “Yeah, run away and never return.”  

The words were dry and pointed, but there was no harm behind them, just the usual sarcastic remark. Shidou would leave now, but this wasn’t the last time he’d invade Sae’s space. He didn’t mind the food or the movies, but the third-wheeling? That was too much to handle.

“Itoshi Sae,” he said carelessly, the lyrics coming to him easily after spending the entire day watching The Lion King trilogy, “I can’t wait to be king!”  

Sae let out a quiet, tired sigh, waving him off without so much as glancing his way. “Just go. And close the door behind you.” Shidou chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed his stuff. He didn’t need Sae to escort him to the door—he knew the way out. As he reached the hallway, he paused for a moment, looking back at the two of you.  

Finally, just the two of you. Leaning back onto the couch, his hand still gently brushing through your hair. The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the end credits music and your steady breathing. He glanced down at you, allowing himself to smile for the first time today, and if you ever saw him like that you would end up being more annoying than the guest that was here seconds ago.

Shidou had just stepped outside the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him as he muttered something about the Pride Lands. But halfway down the hallway, he patted his pockets and realized his phone was missing. Groaning, he turned back, muttering to himself, “Can’t even leave without forgetting something.”

As he reached for the doorknob, he paused. Why was the door unlocked?

Pushing it open, he stepped inside—and immediately froze.

There you were, sitting on Sae’s lap, your hands cradling his face as your lips moved together in a kiss that could only be described as passionate. Sae’s hand rested firmly on your legs, holding you in place as if he had no intention of letting you go. The scene was so intimate, so unexpected, that Shidou just stood there, wide-eyed, his mouth slightly open in shock, a rather pleasant shock.

The door creaked behind him, and the sound made both of you stop. Your heads snapped toward him in unison, eyes wide like you’d been caught committing a crime.

Shidou blinked, then grinned, his signature playfulness kicking in. “Holy shi—For free?”

Your face burned red as you instinctively grabbed the nearest cushion and launched it at him. “SHIDOU!” you yelled, still clinging to Sae as if letting go would somehow make the situation worse.

He ducked the flying cushion, laughing as he darted toward the coffee table to grab his phone. “Relax! I’m just here for my phone!”

“Shidou, get out!” you shouted again, angrier and annoyed because this was the second time he caught you in an unexpected situation and as he backed toward the door, phone in hand, Shidou smirked. “You know, you should really lock the door. Or were you hoping I’d come back and catch you manipulating Sae like Nala tried to do with Simba? What a woman you are…”

Your grip on Sae tightened as you glared daggers at him. “Stop staring and GET OUT!”

“Alright, alright!” Shidou raised his hands in surrender, still grinning like he’d won some kind of prize. “Lock the door next time, damnit!” he added with a laugh, finally slipping out the door.

The moment the door closed, you and Sae sat in silence, your faces still flushed. A second later, he got up and went to the door, the sound of the lock clicking echoed through the room, ensuring no further interruptions.

Outside, Shidou shook his head, chuckling to himself as he walked away. “Hakuna Matata,” he muttered. “What a wonderful phrase.”

Inside the apartment, you laughed out of pure embarrassment, burying your face in Sae’s shoulder. “I can’t believe that just happened.” He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer there's a calm surrender to the rush of the day. It's enough for him just to be with you, because he would make you feel his love tonight.

“That we got this far,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His lips met yours kissing you again, slower this time, removing any tension as you kissed him back, “Now, relax.”

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[boreal-sea]

Nope. You’ve missed the point of this post and you’re clutching your pearls.

I don’t give a fuck what you romanticize in your fanfic. The word “romanticize” is basically meaningless here anyway. What does it mean? Depends on who you ask.

My impression is that a “non-romanticized” rape scene in a fic would be one where the reader is supposed to feel horror and revulsion the whole time.

That ain’t what I do when I write noncon.

When I write a noncon fic with rape in it, I’m getting off to it. You’re supposed to LIKE IT. I want my readers to be aroused by it. The rape is the sexy part. The trauma and violence and control is the sexy part. It’s catharsis. You’re supposed to be turned on and masturbating. If you aren’t, then my fic ain’t for you.

Next…

If you are seeing 10 year olds in a space YOU think they shouldn’t be because YOU think there is content in that space that YOU think they are not ready to understand it critically, and you think that for some reason YOU, a total stranger, bear responsibly for that child’s media consumption, then I guess you can report them to the site admin or contact that child’s parents or something.

But don’t go around telling adults on an adult website (like Ao3) they have to fucking censor themselves on the off chance a child might lie to register for the site and then read their fic.

I'm a fandom oldie and a strong proponent of "ship and let ship", and I defend everyone else's right to ship what they love... But I think that gives people the idea that I like, automatically love every single ship??? Or every single trope?

I don't though!

There are a lot of fandom tropes that are on my "absolutely fuck no" list. There are a lot of irk kinks that are also on my "nope absolutely not" list, too. Personally, this is healthy. I'm able to look at something and go "Yep, I hate it, but it's not harming anyone, so continue to do as you please."

[darkbluekies]

Can we have more Jerry content please?

"Familiar, like my mirror years ago"

Yandere!female!mafia x reader

Summary: darling getting shot reminds Jerry of memories she can't help but repress, and is now forced to face

Warnings: gore? Blood, lots of it, pain, trauma? In other words, a dark oneshot

Word count: 4.5k

She can’t believe it. The sight is enough to make her sick. Her darling, her only light in this miserable life, lying unreachable in a hospital bed with countless machines connected. How could she ever have let that happened? She’s been sitting by your bed for hours, holding your hand tightly and not looking away. She hasn’t felt a pain like this for a long time, not since her family died. Jerry tries her best to think of something else, but it keeps coming back. 

“Mom and dad are out, I’m supposed to make dinner for us.”

Yuna looks up from her homework and grimaces. She’s still wearing her school uniform. “Then we won’t eat”, she mumbles sulkily. 

“Hey, watch it.���

Yuna laughs. Jerry’s long hair is tied into a loose ponytail. She sits down on the floor beside her younger sister, watching over her while drinking from a juice pouch. Yuna’s much smarter than her, both in school and life, and that’s good enough for Jerry. She doesn’t have to be smart if Yuna is. 

Yuna lifts her head up from her math book. She looks over her shoulder at Jerry. 

“Sister, there’s a boy in my class”, she says, “and I think that he likes me. He asked me to go to the amusement park on friday.”

“Who’s this rat?” Jerry scoffs. 

“He’s the class president.”

“Oh, your academic rival.” Jerry takes a new sip of her juice. “Is he smarter than you?”

“No.”

Jerry smiles and ruffles Yuna’s hair. “I know that’s right. My little sister is the smartest in school.”

Yuna squirms embarrassedly, but her smile exposed her. 

“Before you go out with him I want to meet this little boy of yours”, Jerry says as she bites the straw. “I need to accept him.”

“He’s nice, I promise.”

“I’ll believe that once I see it.”

“Please don’t embarrass me.”

“Embarrass you? Do you think I’m a child?” She thinks for a second. “Don’t answer that.”

Yuna chuckles. 

“What about you, sister?” she asks. “Don’t you have someone that you like?”

Jerry leans her head against the wall. 

“No”, she replies and smiles. “I don’t need one. Well, are you hungry? Should we get some food?”

“What are you going to make?”

“I’m not going to cook, we’ll go out and buy something. If mom and dad doesn’t know we’re eating junk food, they can’t get mad. I’m feeling like tteokbokki or convenience store food, what about you?”

“Street food sounds nice.”

“Good, let’s go.”

Jerry stands up and goes to grab her jacket. Yuna follows. They walk out of the apartment, out onto the lit up street. The stars in the night sky twinkle beautifully. They walk side by side. Yuna’s shorter than Jerry, for now, but she’ll be taller in a year, she’s sure of that. Yuna’s only sixteen. Jerry’s eighteen. Jerry was Yuna’s age when she started doing things she shouldn’t. It had started small with skipping class, then smoking, then tealing lip glosses from the mall. And then it escalated to robbing and assaults. Jerry wondered where she would be if she hadn’t befriended the wrong people. She had never been good in school, not like Yuna, but had been good at PE. But that doesn’t matter. She has a new chance with Yuna now, to make sure that she does everything Jerry didn’t and make sure Yuna doesn’t do the things Jerry did. 

“Look what my friends got me for my birthday”, Yuna says and shows a ‘Kuromi’ plush charm hanging on her bag.

“That’s cute”, Jerry agrees. 

Yuna’s friends are the type of friends a teenage girl should have. They gossip, go out for fun, have sleepovers, late night talks. But Jerry knows that Yuna’s friends are scared of her. Ever since Jerry got kicked out of school, people have been suspecting her of things she has done. But no one has evidence. Yuna knows about the theft and the assaults, but not of the others. Jerry has made sure that no one knows that she has joined a gang. If Yuna knew, she could get hurt. That can’t happen. Yuna does everything right in life, she isn’t supposed to be involved in these things. The gang doesn’t know about Yuna either. That’s for the best. 

Seoul’s streets are empty, apart from a few people walking their dogs or out on walks. They walk to a nearby food market and buy one thing from every food stand before walking to the nearest river and have a picnic. 

“We should have gotten water”, Yuna says. 

“Go put your head into the river”, Jerry chuckles. 

“I washed my hair this morning.”

“Then thirst to death.”

“Can’t you go buy water? Please?”

Jerry sighs and stands up. 

“Fine”, she groans. “Wait here. Don’t eat everything when I’m back.”

Yuna laughs. Jerry grabs her phone and leaves. She walks to the nearest convenience store and gets two bottles of water and two ice creams. The lady behind the counter smiles at her and wishes her a good night. Jerry wishes her back. 

A cold wind brushes past her as she walks back out into the night air. For a moment, it feels like someone is watching her. Jerry looks around, but there’s no one to be seen. She frowns and hurries back to the river. Yuna has eaten all of the sausages. 

“I told you not to eat all of it!” Jerry says. “If you wanted more you should have bought them yourself. And here I got you ice cream, you ungrateful brat.”

“No, please give it to me!” Yuna laughs and reaches for the ice cream. “I'm sorry, sister, please! You can take all the remaining fish cakes, please!”

Jerry pretends to think for a moment.

“Okay”, she says nonchalantly. “I guess that works. Greedy bitch.”

She gives Yuna the ice cream. Yuna laughs and Jerry can't help but smile.

“Do you think life is pre-planned for you?” Yuna asks after a while. “As in, your fate is already decided, it doesn't matter what path you'll take, you'll eventually end up where you should be?’

“I don't know”, Jerry replies and licks her ice cream. “Wouldn't that be kind of sad, though?”

“Why?”

“If your life is already decided for you. You can't change it. What if you don't like the decided fate?”

“But what if the decided fate is the most perfect for you?”

“What would mine be, then?”

Yuna studies her. “I don't know, but I know that it isn't robbing people. I think you'd be a good psychologist.”

Jerry lifts her eyebrows. “Me? Why?”

“You're good at noticing emotions, and feeling them. You know when I'm upset without me even saying anything.”

“That's because I know you … and you're like an open book, wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

“Maybe, but you know how to make me feel better.”

“I don't think I'd be a good psychologist, unfortunately. I'd be a good mechanic, though. I'd be like a doctor but for machines. What about you? What do you think your decided fate is?”

Yuna sighs and looks out over the river. “I don't know”, she says in defeat. “I wish I knew. I want to get good on the CSAT when i have to do that, get into a good university and get a good job … but i don't know what I want to do.”

“You're sixteen, Yuna, you have time to figure it out.”

“You too. You're eighteen. You can choose something better.”

Yuna’s eyes turn to her, full of sorrow. Jerry’s heart aches. She puts her arm around Yuna’s shoulders and leans her head against hers.

“I'll figure it out”, she sighs. “Don't worry about me.”

“But I do. All the time. I love you.”

“I love you too, but you don't have to. I will figure it out. I will.”

Jerry sobs. Her body is breaking into pieces, can feel the flesh rip itself apart.

Please wake up, Y/N. Please. I can't do this.

She should have done more to protect you. She should have learned from her mistakes. She opens her left hand. A small Kuromi plush charm rests in the palm of her hand. The other hand holds onto yours tightly. The little plush stares at her with cute aggression. She wants to bury her sharp nails into its face, claw away the mocking expression. 

You couldn't leave me without a little bully, could you? When you're not here to tease me, this is.

Jerry looks up at your face and feels her body goes cold once again. You look so small, so breakable. She's afraid of squeezing your hand too tightly, worried that she'll snap it in half.

“This is my older sister Yubin.”

Jerry scans the boy up and down. He dresses well, has his hair neatly prince and styled and bows deeply. A real dream for a mother in law.

“Nice to meet you”, he says. 

Yuna pulls Jerry to the side.

“Please, can I go with him?” she whispers.

Jerry glances towards him. He twiddles with his fingers

“Okay”, Jerry gives in. “I’ll come get you at eight.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to make sure you get home safely.”

She watches her sister leave the apartment with her arms crossed over her chest.

“He seemed like a nice boy”, her mom says behind her. 

“Yeah, let’s hope that, for his sake”, Jerry mutters and walks into her room, closing the door behind her. 

She keeps herself occupied by watching a cheesy drama in bed while eating snacks. Every now and then she glances at the clock on her phone, waiting for it to be the right time.

After four episodes—and not a single kiss yet—it's finally time for her to get moving. Jerry gets out of bed and grabs her jacket. She gives her mom and dad a quick ‘goodbye’ before exiting the apartment. The evening air is crisp, the music blasting in her earpods. Her ears are always surprised by the sound, either heavy rap with skillful execution or upbeat bubblegum pop. 

She walks through lit up streets full of students taking advantage of the fact that there is no school tomorrow. Fridays being out the wildest in even the calmest of teenagers. Jerry should know.

Suddenly, the feeling of being watched enters her body again. She doesn’t stop to look around, doesn’t want to give any potential stalkers the knowledge that she’s aware. Jerry shakes it off, she always feels watched. She’s paranoid. 

She sees Yuna and the boy stand outside the gates of the amusement park. Jerry walks up to them, hands in her pockets. Yuna smiles and waves goodbye to the boy.

“I had so much fun!” she tells her as they walk.

“I can tell”, Jerry says, trying to sound unbothered but the way her lip curls upwards exposes her. “So, how much money did you waste?”

“None, actually. He paid for everything.”

Jerry raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh?” She can't hide her surprise. “He did?” But quickly composes herself. “As he should.”

“I feel bad though, he spent so much money trying to win me a stuffed animal at those machines, you know? The ones with a claw? But I think they're rigged.”

“Of course they are.”

Yuna yawns and leans against her older sister. Jerry chuckles and wraps her arm around her shoulders.

“What?” she questions. “Are you tired now?”

“Yes”, she replies. “Can you carry me?”

“Fuck no, you can walk by yourself.”

“Please?”

Yuna clings onto her and stops walking. Jerry groans and lifts her up on her back, piggyback carrying her. Yuna hugs her neck.

“I think I like that boy”, she mumbles with a smile.

“If he ever hurts you I'm breaking his neck, you know that, right?” Jerry says. “No one hurts my sister.”

Yuna hugged her neck tighter. “No one gets to hurt my sister either.”

Her heart breaks. Jerry has moved away from the bed and sat down beside the window, looking out over the city. The sky is dark, lights twinkling everywhere, like stars.

There's a knock on the door. Jerry looks over, eyes swollen from all crying. Her boss walks in with a bodyguard behind him. In his hands is a colorful flower bouquet, surrounded by soft, pinkish gift paper. He glances at you before turning his eyes to Jerry.

“I came as soon as I heard”, he says and places the flowers on the chair by the bed. “How are they?”

“I don't know”, Jerry says quietly, voice not reaching more than a broken whisper. "Nobody knows.”

Her boss takes a deep breath. He's much more careful than Jerry has ever seen him. 

“If there's anything I can do, don't hesitate to let me know, ‘kay?” he says.

“Kill that coward”, she says coldly. “No, don't. Save him for me.”

“I will.”

Jerry makes the mistake of turning her eyes towards you. Your poor soul. Her boss walks over to her and, to her surprise, puts his arms around her. He has never hugged her. In the four years she's known him, he has never hugged her. She has to control herself to not break out into childish sobs again.

“I really love them”, slips out of her before she can stop herself. “Oh, fuck, what do i do?”

“You don't do anything”, her boss says. “You'll stay here and watch over them and I'll do the rest.”

He leaves shortly after, wanting Jerry to have time to herself. She can't cry in front of him, and crying is exactly what she needs.

She walks to the bed and picks up the flowers. There's a little card attached to the gift paper. Jerry opens it.

“Get well soon, Y/N, the entire organization is sending its wishes for you to heal quickly and come back to Jerry — M.”

Jerry smiles slightly. She places the bouquet in her water bottle.

A small noise is heard from the bed and she turns to see you slowly, but surely, open your eyes. Jerry feels her heart stop. She throws herself forward, getting closer to the bed.

“Y/N, babe, I'm here”, she breathes out. “Babe.”

Your eyes seem to not be able to register anything in the bright light, but as they move to see where the sound is coming from, they pupils seem to grow. They fill with tears. Jerry turns your cheek with a trembling hand and wipes it.

“It's okay, baby”, she whispers. “It's okay.”

“Jerry …”, you croak out.

She nods. Tears filled her eyes. She squeezes your hand tighter.

“My pretty baby”, she sniffles and wipes your tears. 

“It feels weird.”

“You have machines connected to you, that's why it feels weird. But they're there to help you.”

“How am I alive?”

“I don't know … it's a miracle.”

She must have someone on her side, a guardian angel … or someone that has seen it all before and couldn’t let it happen again. Jerry looks down at the little Kuromi plush in her hand, heart sinking. 

“I never thought that i would be shot”, you admit. 

“It’s my fault”, Jerry says. “I should never have let it happen. I’m an idiot … but fuck, am I happy you are alive. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t woken up.”

You look around the room, eyes stopping at the flowers. 

“Did you get those?” you ask. 

“No, my boss did”, she replies and takes out the card. “He even wrote a little message for you.”

She reads it out loud to you and breathes out in relief at your small smile. 

“I must be the first person to get that kind of message”, you joke weakly. 

“You are”, Jerry says and takes a risk at a joke. “I hope that you’re grateful, because you won’t get another one unless you die.”

“I’m not planning on it.”

Jerry smiles and caresses your cheek. “That’s my baby. You’re not dying for a long while, and I’m going to make sure of it.”

You notice the plush in her other hand. 

“What’s that?” you ask. 

Your weak hand reaches for hers, trying to get a better look at the Kuromi figurine. Jerry feels her heart stop, her body turn to ice. You knew that she had a sister before and that something happened, but not what happened, or where she is now. Too stunned to react, you’re able to take the little plush out of her hands. You hold it carefully, turning it around to get a good look at it. 

“It fits you”, you say quietly, smiling slightly.

“It wasn’t mine from the start”, slips out of her, breathlessly and unfamiliar to her. “It’s not actually mine.”

“Did you steal it from someone?” 

If only.

“No”, she says slowly. “I didn’t. It was my sister’s.”

You pull your eyes away from the charm and look at her. She has gone pale by now and stares empty in front of her. The stare reminds you of soldiers who’s seen too much and you apologize for bringing it up. 

“You don’t have to apologize”, Jerry mumbles and takes the little plush carefully. “I guess that you should know the story. If anyone should know, it should be you.”

“What was her name?”

Jerry smiles sadly. “Yuna.”

“Yuna.”

Hearing you say it breaks her heart all over again, makes it bleed into her throat. She wishes that you could have met her, and that Yuna got to met you. 

See? Jerry would have teased her. You didn’t think I would get a good partner, what do you say now? 

“You would have loved her”, Jerry says quietly, still wearing the painful smile. “And she would have loved you—adored you. She loved everything and everyone. A soul too good for this world. She never broke any rules, never did anything stupid … and when she did one time, I scolded her so bad that she never did it again.”

Jerry can see the hesitation in your eyes before you ask the question. 

“What happened to her?”

Jerry’s head pounds in pain. Blood runs down her chin, from the corner of her mouth. She wipes it with her sleeve. She really should stop getting into fights, it never ends well. Even if she wins them, she’s left with aching limbs for days to come. But the pride from a win makes her do it again, and again, and again. She usually gangs up with a few people from her gang, and go at it until they can’t anymore. But today was different, she thinks as she makes her way home, through empty streets. They smiled too much today, provoked her more than usual. When she was ready to leave, they pulled her back in with their taunting words, knowing exactly where to press to rile her up again. As if they didn’t want her to leave. It was weird, different than usual. 

Jerry drags her feet over the pavement. She will have to take a shower to remove the blood—whether it’s hers or not doesn’t matter. 

The door to the apartment complex isn’t fully closed. A small drop of blood sits on the ground. Is she bloody enough to drip? She opens the door and walks into the building, pulling herself up the stairs to the apartment. This door isn’t closed either. Jerry frowns and opens the door, walking into the hallway. She can tell, right away, that something is different. There’s a new smell in the air, one she is oddly familiar with. 

The smell of blood. 

Her heart stops, nerves crackling with panic before she runs forward, into the livingroom. 

“Mom?” she shouts. “Dad? Yuna?”

Blood covers the floor, the walls and furniture. Jerry spins around, desperately trying to find where it leads. It seems to have been smudged in all directions. She opens the door to the bathroom. Empty. Her parents room. Empty. Kitchen is empty. Her hand hovers shakingly over Yuna’s bedroom door. Please don’t, Jerry thinks as sweat runs down her back, please, please. She opens the door. The room is covered in blood. Her parents are lying across the room, blood smudges across the floor exposing that they’ve been dragged here. Their throats are slit. Jerry stumbles backwards, hand reaching for something—anything—to grab onto. Her heart seems to be everywhere in her body, beating irregularly. An ice cold, burning nausea covers her fully, like water. 

“Mom—”, she chokes out, sinking down on the floor. She can’t form a sentence, let alone an understandable one. “Dad … oh, my God. Oh, my God, oh shit.”

Her vision is blurred by tears.

A thought enters her head, and suddenly she’s on high alert again. 

Yuna … where’s Yuna?

On shaking legs, she clumsily pulls herself up and stumbles out into the corridor again. All other rooms are empty, where is Yuna? Where the fuck is Yuna?

There’s only one room left. Jerry’s. She drags herself over to her closed door, feeling like she’s going to vomit any second. After a long while of waiting, she finally opens the door, revealing her own room. Jerry screams. 

Yuna is lying in Jerry’s bed. Her school uniform is covered in blood, her black hair spread out over her face. One arm lies over her stomach, the other hanging over the side of the bed. Jerry has to grab onto her desk. Suddenly she doesn’t feel like she’s there. She can’t feel her legs hold her up.

Without noticing it, her body has moved her forward. She’s standing by her bed. Theres a folded note on Yuna’s chest. Jerry’s hands tremble as she opens it. 

“See this as a warning, bitch, next time it will be you.”

She throws the note across the room. Her heart hammers in her chest, but this time in anger. Those disgusting creatures. She can’t find words to describe them. They’re subhuman, but not even that is enough. 

She tears down everything on her desk, including her laptop and lamp amd when there’s nothing left for her to destroy, she hits herself, clawing and pulling at anything she can get her hands on. As long as it hurts. It’s her fault. She put her family in danger. Her choices led to this. She killed them. 

When her body loses power, she sinks down on the floor, shaking and crying. Jerry covers her face in her hands to avoid looking at her little sisters lifeless body. She can’t remember the last time she cried like this. It exits her body in a whine-like howl, her pain needing to come out. 

But even those end. All feelings end at some point, leaving her in a numb, broken shell. She looks towards her bed. The arm that’s hanging of the side of the bed seems to hold something. Jerry crawls over and opens Yuna’s hand slightly. Her skin is still somewhat warm under her touch. In her hand lies the Kuromi charm plush, still somewhat clean. Jerry takes it out of Yuna’s hand and holds it in hers. She hugs it, breaking out into new sobs. 

Realizing that she can’t stay here—the ones that have done this will most likely return, or the cops will arrest her for the deed—Jerry stands up. She grabs one of her black backpacks and throws in whatever she thinks that she can need before leaving the apartment for the last time. 

Your eyes are filled with tears, and so are hers. You reach forward to wipe hers and she squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t look at you. 

“I’m so sorry”, you say. 

“I can’t lose you too”, she hisses. “I fucking can’t lose you too.”

She can feel you hug her and she’s quick to remove your arms. 

“You shouldn’t move”, she says with a panicked voice. “You’re hurt. Just let the medicine and what fuck-not do it’s work, please. Just do as I say.”

You lay down again. Jerry sighs out heavily and wipes her tears harshly. 

“That’s why I joined this organization”, she says angrily. “I realized how vulnerable I was by myself. I needed people that could protect me and have my back … and I’m so fucking sorry I pulled you into it, too. I should have learned my lesson with my family, but I didn’t. I was so fucking selfish doing it again, just because I fell in love. And i could have lost you too. Ic ould have repeated my fucking mistake.”

“But you didn’t”, you say. “I’m here.”

Jerry sighs and holds out the little plush. 

“I, somehow, feel like she did this”, she says flatly. “As if she couldn’t watch me go through it again, so she saved you. Yuna died holding this charm. Somehow thinking that it would protect her … or she just didn’t want to die alone.”

Jerry has never said these thoughts out loud before. And when she does it, she doesn’t dare to look at you, scared to see a judging look in your eyes. But you don’t, you look at her with such empathy, such sadness for her. 

“I can’t bring myself to get rid of it”, she says and sighs. “Because this was so important to Yuna. I don’t know why.”

“Did you ever get the ones that did it?” you ask carefully. 

“No … never. But I will find them one day, and I will make them pay. And the one that did this to you is going to get what he deserve too. I will never let anything hurt you again. I will do whatever it takes, but so help me, if anything ever happens to you again.”

“I think that if she saw you now, she would be proud of you”, you say. “Maybe not for what you do, but for how loving you are.”

Jerry scoffs, but you see that your words hit her hard. 

“You are”, you insist. “Not everyone sees it, but you are. Even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

“Oh yeah?” she scoffs. “How ‘loving’ can I be after everything I’ve done to you?”

You swallow, thinking of everything Jerry has put you through but shake it off. Not the right timing. 

“You sat here with me all this time”, you say. “You’ve cried for me. Worried for me.”

“Well, yeah, I’m not a monster.”

“You aren’t. You are human. And that’s why it wasn’t your fault, for anything that happened. You didn’t do anything.”

Jerry sniffles and looks down at the plush, and then at you. 

“Thank you, Y/N”, she says, giving you a small, sad smile. “Thank you.”

After you’ve fallen asleep that night, she places the little Kuromi plush on the pillow, by your head and smiles sadly. She falls asleep with her head on the free space on the bed beside your legs, eternally grateful that you came back to her, and with a new peace in her body. As if a heavy weight has lifted off her shoulders.