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lotus-n-l0ve · 12 hours ago

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THREADS OF AFFECTION

— Bestfriend!Ryomen Sukuna x Bestfriend!Female Reader

Sometimes, The One You Need Has Always Been There.・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

*⁠.⁠✧ SYNOPSIS : After a rough experience with your boyfriend, you turn to your best friend Sukuna. As the night goes on words unravel. The tension between you two grows and everything lay in your hand. But one thing for sure—Sukuna will always be there for you, no matter what.

*⁠.⁠✧ WARNINGS & TAGS : No cheating, bestfriend!sukuna, one sided pining, almost rape, traumatizing elements, vulgar language, confession, 3k words.

*⁠.⁠✧ NOTE FROM LOTUS : O my gosh! I'm so excited. I'm back in my Sukuna brain riot days. He is all I'm thinking about nowadays. Also, always remember that unless it's an explicit "yes", it can't be counted as consent.

*⁠.⁠✧ — NAVIGATION // JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE. MINORS DNI, IF YOU DO THEN IT'S YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY.・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Sukuna’s towering body pushed the blondie against the sink, his lips locked with her in a fiery battle, fighting for dominance. Their hands roamed all over each other's body, desperate to get rid of any article of clothing. Even the biggest earthquake or tsunami could stop him from getting any release tonight. Nothing but the familiar ringtone of piano that he set specifically for you could get in his way.

Sukuna pulled out the phone faster than he could blink, ignoring the whine of the very high and wasted blondie who's name he didn't even bother to remember, Sukuna slid the accept icon across the screen and pressed the cold phone close to his ear.

“Hello?” Sukuna said as he waited for any response but was only met with silence.

“Suku—” Before the blondie could speak, his hand slammed on her palm, forcing her to keep quiet. Her weak punches did little to no damage to Sukuna.

“S-Sukuna…” the trembling voice of yours from the other side of the call threw him over the edge. His eyes darkened and eyebrows frowned, “Where are you?”

After a few seconds of silence you spoke again, “I'm….. I'm outside of Ryle’s house.”

“I'm coming.” Sukuna cut the call and strode out of the party house, ignoring the angry calls, telling him to go back.

The black yzf-r1 cut through the wind. It took Sukuna approximately 10 minutes to get to your location. Even from far away he could see you sitting on the sidelines, knees pulled to your chest, restless sobs eruption from your chest. His bike stopped in front of you. Crouching down in front of you, he cupped your cheeks in his warm hands and raised your head up.

“What happened?” Sukuna asked as he whipped your cheeks only for them to get wet the next second.

“Kuna.” You broke into another feat of breakdown. The words coming out of your mouth sounded like only nonsense.

“Hush, calm down.” He pulled you in his arms. Sturdy fingers running through your hair, providing solace for you, “Follow my breath, come on.”

Your breath aligned with his and finally your speeding heart came to a steady pace. Sukuna broke the hug and whipped your cheeks clean again.

His hold on your face didn't release, “Now tell me what happened?”

You recalled how you ended up here. ‘Little miss virgin’ is what your friends called you. Heck! Even the whole school called you that. It's not like you didn't want to have sex. You just never had the right opportunity for it. Random hook-ups were not your thing. You wanted your first time to be with a special someone.

That's where Ryle came into the picture. He was your seatmate in English class. Because of his continued bad grades Mr. Smith asked you to tutor him in exchange for extra points in the final semester. He was a nice sweet guy who always made you laugh and thus you gave him a chance when he proposed to you.

Well, he was not such a nice guy after all. A month of dating, Ryle was very clear about intimacy. He wanted to have sex with you, he brought up that topic quite often and after a month of thinking you finally prepared yourself to lose your v-card. And that night was tonight.

Ryle was very excited and the big grin on his face on the way to his house made it very clear. You were barely inside the house when his lips attacked yours, catching you off-guard. Your hands, as if instinctively grabbed his shoulders to push him away but his hands on your waist pinned you to the door.

Panic flooded in your heart. Everything felt rushed. You thought you would have enough time to prepare yourself while he took a shower but now you wanted to bolt out of there. Your view hazed and everything became blurry. When you were on the brink of passing out, then did Ryle pull back but dived right down your neck.

“Ryle, stop. Stop it.” Your voice was close to yelling.

Ryle paid no mind to your protest. Placing wet kisses down your neck that felt like a burning rod was touching your skin.

“RYLE, STOP!” You pushed him with all of your strength.

Ryle stumbled back and hit his head on the wall. A painful grunt came out of his mouth as he clutched his head. Guilt filled you in as you quickly rushed to his side.

“Are you okay? I'm so sorr—” tried to grab his hand only for him to jerk your hand away.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck was that?” Ryle shouted on top of his lungs.

‘I’m s-so sorry…..” your voice trembled.

Ryle took a deep breath, standing up straight, “Okay, it's okay. It's your first time so I understand. Let's continue.”

Ryle grabbed both sides of your face and kissed you again only for you to avoid it and step back.

“Ryle, how about we stop today. I feel a little tired.”

And with each word the smile on his face wavered till it faded into the darkness. You didn't like the look in his eyes, the negative feeling. The Ryle you knew was always so nice to you so his next action came as a heartbreaking shock to you.

His hands gripped your arms with so much strength, his nails dug into your skin, as he shouted at you, “Are you fucking with me right now, Y/N? I didn't put up with you all these days only for you to chicken out and stop me from getting my fun.”

“R-Ryle, you are h-hurting me.” Tears pricked your eyes.

“And you are annoying me. Did you think I ran around you like a dog for nothing huh? Fuck! The least you can do is shut up and take it.”

You didn't like this Ryle. He scared you, suffocated you with fear. His words sent you in a spiral of thoughts. The guy in front of you was nothing but a potential rapist.

In fear, words spouted out of your mouth like a fountain, “Ryle, let me go right now. Otherwise Sukuna will hear about this and you and I both know that you will not like what comes next.”

You looked straight into his eyes, daring him to continue with his absurd act. You could tell, he had more to say but only the name of Sukuna was enough to evoke terror in his heart. No one in their right mind would like to be on his bad side. His personality may have subdued now but his chaotic past personality was well known to everyone. Not to mention his status as the heir of Lumino Corp.

Finally Ryle released you but not without a hurtful shove. He went up the stairs muttering, “Get the fuck out of my house.”

You didn't need to be told twice.

“That damn fucker!” Sukuna jumped up running towards the front door, with the intention of killing, you were sure of.

You hurriedly blocked his way, wrapping your arm around his huge torso, “Wait Sukuna, he is not alone.”

That's when Sukuna heard the indecent noises coming from the house. Sukuna tried to get out of your hold, his jaw locked in a clench, “Even more reasons to end that fucker.”

Your arms only became more firm around him, “No, let's go home. I don't want to be here, I'm not feeling very good.”

Sukuna felt a debate in his heart before he finally took your adequately smaller hand in his and brought you to the parked beast of a bike. Your feelings were way more important than breaking that prick’s nose at the moment. Putting his helmet on you he buckled it tight. His body defending you against the seer hits of wind. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist and forehead resting on his back as the night played in your head like a movie.

“I didn't put up with you all these days only for you to chicken out and stop me from getting my fun.” was what he said. You wonder if everything was fake. From him being interested in the same subject as you to the same food. All the times he called you late into the night only to hear your voice to getting you coffee every morning. Maybe, everything was fake.Your arms tightened around his waist, the only source of comfort for you, now and forever.

Sukuna’s apartment building, which turned into your hideout over the years, came in the. Sukuna parked his bike in the underground garage. You didn’t feel like moving but still reluctantly got down from the bike, followed by Sukuna. He led you to the elevator and then to his apartment on the 17th floor.

You found yourself sitting on the gray couch in the living room as Sukuna rummaged through the fridge, “Want something to drink.”

“Anything will do.” You replied as you fidgeted with the blanket on your lap.

Sukuna came back to the living room, placing a can of matcha milk shake as he settled on the couch beside you with a bottle of alcohol in his hand. You picked up the can, taking sips of your drink.

The two of you sat in silence for a long time. Sukuna was bad with words, comforting someone was not his forte but that's what you liked. The comforting silence with him. He let you pick what wanted to do instead of forcing.

It was a quarter till an hour when all your resolve broke and a waterfall of tears ran down your cheeks without break, painful sobbs erupting from your heart. Sukuna silently pulled your head in his chest, his hand running through your head in gentle strokes.

You let all the agony out that you had been holding inside since the moment you went to Ryle’s house. You felt used, as if you are nothing worth other than your body. All the lies of Ryle kept floating in your mind.

“God! I'm so stupid.” You almost whimpered saying those words.

His hand stopped midway in your hair before resuming, “Stop, cry all you want but don't you dare degrade yourself for a lowlife like him.”

“I don't know what to do. Today was supposed to be so special but it turned into a disaster all because I'm such a coward.” Your voice trembled with each word.

“I said stop.” Sukuna held your shoulders and pushed you away from him. You saw an unexplainable fury in his eyes that you knew wasn't directed towards you.

His eyes softened as they stared at your watery ones, “Ai, stop. These things don't happen like that. I know I should be the last one to say this but..”

He cupped your cheeks, bringing your face closer, “Sex is not something to be rushed. If you had gone on with him then I know damn well he would have hurt you. That prick would have made you hate sex or any kind of intimacy.”

You stared into his eyes, heart throbbing because of the intensity in his eyes and the utter sincerity in his voice. It made you want to cry even more because—

“Why couldn't it be you? Gosh! I wish it was you. But it's not possible.” You were about to break into another fit of cry but his next words shocked you to core.

“Do you want me to be? You know……. I'll do anything if you tell me, Ai. Anything.” His thumb on your cheek rubbed back and forth, letting you know he was okay with any decision you make.

You wanted to believe that Sukuna uttered those words as a dear friend of you but the look in his eyes made it so hard to not see the obvious meaning behind his words.

“What?” Your voice barely escaped, a mix of disbelief and vulnerability. You tried to pull away, but Sukuna's hands held you firmly in place, his eyes unwavering.

“We can take things slow. Or you can take the lead. Do whatever you want, I won't say a word.” Words sprouted out of his mouth like an indomitable waterfall and it made him want to slam his head on the wall and black out if he could just stop his damn mouth.

Maybe it was the desperation that was increasing day by day, when he knew he would give you the world if you asked but it's not him that you chose. It was that lowlife jerk who only ever thought with his dick. Sukuna resented those days when you used to talk about him with stars in your eyes, completely oblivious to the turmoil in his heart. His heart ached like hell.

The words hung in the air, the tension between the two of you shifting. The world outside his apartment seemed to stop as you processed what he had just said. Your heart hammered in your chest, every inch of your body aware of how close you were to crossing a line that you had never considered before.

You swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of his body close to yours, the weight of his presence making you feel more vulnerable than you ever had before. The reality of what he was suggesting didn’t quite settle in yet. Was he serious? Was he offering something you couldn’t even allow yourself to imagine?

“I’m not saying this to confuse you,” he continued, his voice low and steady. “But I don’t want you to think you’re alone in this. Not when I’m here, not when I can help you.”

The softness of his words mixed with the roughness of his usual demeanor was enough to make you pause. You had always known Sukuna as someone who didn’t easily show affection or care. But in this moment, as he wiped the last of your tears away, his face softened in a way you had never seen before.

Your heart fluttered, an unexplainable feeling swarming your chest. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the fact that the person who had always been there for you, who you trusted above all others, was now offering you something you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest dreams.

But then, the fear and uncertainty crept in again. You thought of Ryle, his words, his actions. You thought about the vulnerability you had felt tonight, how everything had gone wrong, and the weight of what had just happened still clung to you like a heavy burden. Could you trust anyone again? Could you trust Sukuna with something as important as this?

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice trembling once more. “This is all so much. I don’t even know what to think right now.”

Sukuna's face softened even more, and for a moment, he just held you in his arms, letting you feel the comfort of his presence. He didn’t push you. He didn’t rush you. He simply allowed you the space to breathe, to feel, to make the decision for yourself, without any pressure.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” Sukuna said, his voice tender. “Take your time. Just know that I’m here for you, no matter what. You don’t owe anyone anything—least of all a bastard like Ryle. Not after what he did. It's only you who matters. Not Ryle. Not me. No-one else.”

His words hit you like a wave, washing over you with a strange sense of relief. It felt like you could finally breathe again. No longer trapped by someone else’s expectations, no longer bound by the need to please or perform for someone else’s desires.

“You’re safe here,” Sukuna added quietly. “Always.”

And like all the times, you believed him. The weight of the night and everything that had happened finally caught up with you. In Sukuna's arms, surrounded by the warmth of his presence, you felt a strange sense of peace that you hadn’t experienced in hours, maybe even longer. His heartbeat was steady against your ear, the rhythm soothing you like a lullaby. Your breathing slowed, and your body relaxed in a way that felt almost foreign, as if you hadn’t allowed yourself to truly rest for so long.

Sukuna didn’t move, didn’t try to disturb you. He simply held you, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively, grounding you in the moment. There were no expectations, no words needed. It was just the two of you, sharing the silence, the comfort of each other’s presence.

And then, without even realizing it, you drifted into sleep.

In his embrace, you felt safe. Safe from the world, safe from the turmoil and confusion that had plagued your mind. You felt as though, for once, the world had stopped spinning, and you could finally breathe without the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Sukuna’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, seeing the vulnerability and exhaustion in your face as you slept. He gently adjusted you in his arms, careful not to disturb you, making sure you were as comfortable as possible. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though it was a rare and almost imperceptible expression. He didn’t need to say anything. He knew you needed this—peace, quiet, and the reassurance that, for now, you didn’t have to face everything on your own.

As the night wore on, Sukuna stayed by your side, watching over you. The world outside seemed distant, like it no longer mattered in the face of what was unfolding between the two of you. The only thing that mattered, in that moment, was that you were safe, that you were in his arms, and that he would protect you from whatever came next.

The events of the night could wait. Right now, it was just you and him, and for once, that was enough.

LIKED IT? THEN PLEASE LEAVE A LIKE, REBLOG & COMMENT. IT WOULD MEAN A LOT AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE LIKE THESE. THANK YOU ♡

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x female reader #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x fem!reader #🪷 writes

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definitely-not-5urreal-w4nderer · 3 hours ago

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In that first sentence I was somewhat in agreement, then it finished with pride or a Chappell Roan concert, girl what? Yes there are more intimate queer space that cishet men should leave alone but pride marches are events of solidarity and normalizing queerness, the more solidarity and numbers the better! And a concert? Come the fuck on, what in hells name are we doing to ourselves and our community by gatekeeping our art? By segregating our subculture from others? Again this is part of normalizing queerness how do you think we got to where we are if not through sharing ourselves, our emotions and stories with the broader world? The albeit very imperfect level of safety and rights we have exist because we showed our humanity to people who empathized and heard us.

But also, and this should be so obvious, you don't know who's queer by looking at them. There are bi men, there are trans men. And ability to empathize aside if you don't think about the fact that gay men have shared experiences with gay women then that comes back to a breakdown in solidarity, we are and always have been stronger together, and our weakest when divided

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chronurgy · 2 days ago

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I think if we want to understand what happened during veilguard's development, it's worth looking at this article about anthem's. History may not repeat itself, but it sure does rhyme - right down to the last minute title change right before the big reveal trailer. The section on the way the use of performance capture for facial animations caused issues with the writing and story as things changed over the turbulent development also feels particularly relevant (basically, they didn't have the time and money to redo it when the story changed, so they just left in things that didn't make sense). It's also worth noting that Mark Darrah, Inqusition's executive director, was widely credited by the devs in the article as being the one to take anthem from nothing at all to something that could actually be shipped by the deadline EA required (he came onboard 17 months before the game shipped). Darrah left bioware in late 2020, before returning as a consultant on veilguard in March 2023 (19 months before release), which I think is particularly interesting and may offer some insight into the game's dev cycle.

I think it also answers the question of whether this is all ea or bioware's fault - and it's both. The answer is that it's both of them. It's ea's fault for forcing them to continue to use frostbite when the engine is clearly not suitable for this purpose, and then just leaving them to flounder. But the incredible mismanagement is absolutely bioware's fault. Upper management's inability to set a course and to make sure things were getting done is on them. Their reliance on "bioware magic" (aka crunch) to make everything come together, ignoring that it wasn't working, and dismissing employees' concerns about it is on them. One developer said that reading the reviews of anthem was "'like reading a laundry list of concerns that developers [had] brought up with senior leadership'" which is incredibly damning!

A lot has been said about the number of senior people that left during this time period, but based on this article, non-senior employees were quitting in droves as well. There was also a massive spike in people taking "stress leave" at the studio during both anthem and Andromeda's productions. One dev said they couldn't count how many people "'had such a mental breakdown from the stress they [were] just gone for one to three months. Some come back, some don’t.'" Upper management at bioware let this environment happen. EA may have encouraged it with their insistence on an unrealistic release date, but bioware still let it happen.

#This is what I mean when I talk about structural issues making bad games #Because it sure doesn't sound like any of this got fixed for veilguard #bioware critical #Datv critical #<- sort of? I guess?#Tldr why is the game the way it is? Structural issues with bioware and ea #Plus a lot of bioware veterans are just gone. They quit! For understandable reasons!#Not just the writers and the other big names but lots of people with lots of institutional knowledge are gone #That's why it's different now

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the-kingshound · 9 hours ago

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I loved the update just because it exists. I loved the bit with the mounts (especially Arthur's trying to ground MC) but my tiny bit of concrit is the "I know you're a mage" convo feels...shoehorned? Like we get the panic attack and Arthur just says he doesn't think the same way as Uther and it's just...It feels (imo) that the Hound once more just accepts Arthur at face value again? I loved the rewrite making the Hound more wary of Arthur, and this kinda felt like a slip? Idk it just feels like there could be...more there. Or perhaps Arthur will try to revisit the topic? Cause like idk about you but if I was just told "I don't want to do anything to you buuuuuut people in my court might," I'd feel threatened and like...I wouldn't believe a single word prior to the "my court might" part. Cause like the Hound is a political prisoner, the nobles (Our sister in law is amazing) made that clear, so it's just another chain Arthur is adding, a little "Be careful love, you don't know what SOMEONE might do if they found out you're a mage :) :)", you know?

And as someone who played as a Hound who is absolutely dreading this marriage (they literally feel like a prisoner) that whole thing kinda felt as if that wasn't an option? Like for example, the walking into the church thingy you have: I feel better, I'm not alone, and the "I am strong and proud" options, but no real option for...just numb? I personally just headcanoned the Hound was disassociated to the point they won't remember the day at all. (I kinda hope we might just get to breakdown with our brothers, or idk alone in the dark)

Also I forget, but is this a game where we have to rack up romance points to lock in? Or one we choose the route? Because I honestly didn't feel that my Hound would want to talk to anyone during what is (to them) a celebration of their collaring/house's defeat.

BUUUUT I truly do hope you take this as constructive. You won't please all of us, and you shouldn't try to. I love that you gave us even this and you are incredibly strong and lovely for pushing through everything. If I am out of line, feel free to ignore or tell me off and I'll just smash my Hound into a better mold for the story lol. After all, it is your story, tell it how you want.

I would really like to give you a long response to your very helpful feedback, but I fear I am lacking the energy to do so. I just want you to know that I hear you, and in truth you make really good points.

1) yeah I do admit I was getting close to burnout with writing in this update, and that scene in particular might have suffered for it. I'll revise it, and hopefully try to not make the interaction feel so jarring. (Note: did you try to pick the more... aggressive option? It goes in a different way, maybe it is less weird?)

2) you are totally right on the options for the marriage - especially because you can play a very numb MC. I'll either edit or add that option. Ohh and the breakdown with the siblings is peak idea. I'm writing that down.

3) as for the romance points: this game is focused strongly on MC. You can choose the pace of the relationship your Hound develops, and for romance, you need to first have some platonic points with said RO. Platonic means in this case that MC wants to spend time with them, and doesn't have to go further than what will become a lifelong friendship.

You do have to pick at least an option to have platonic points with a RO, but you won't get locked out of anything in this game. Every choice shapes your personal Hound's story, this is not a game that punishes you, or that is focused solely on romance.

Thank you for sending this in! This kind of feedback, especially if worded clearly and kindly lik you did, can be so helpful and I love getting it even if it makes me pause and rethink some things.

#ask

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blitzwhore · 14 hours ago

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Do you think that the fact Stolas didn't took his pills for weeks contribuited to cause his "what a fucking idiot I am" breakdown and to give him the strenght to beat Andrealphus?

I definitely think so, yeah! Not that you can't have that kind of breakdown while being medicated—you definitely can—but Stolas has never expressed his emotions like this before, not even as his previous lowest points in the show, not even while drunk. The whole hitting his face against the desk, insulting himself out loud, and becoming violent is very unlike the Stolas we know, the Stolas who goes quiet and retreats and cries silently and sings his sorrows away. And I do think the pills have everything to do with that, considering how much importance they're given throughout the episode.

After all, they get brought up over and over again. First, when Stolas keeps trying to reach out for them every morning as his mental health slowly worsens (his energy levels depleting, his expression growing more and more vacant and tired, until all he can do is just collapse on the couch on Sinsmas morning). And then when Via finds them, reflects upon what they must mean, goes out of her way to bring them to Stolas, and then asks if it was her fault that he needed them. We even get a close-up shot of them in Stolas' hands as he cries.

We, the audience, are consistently shown just how vital Stolas' medication is, and just how much being off it affects him. So yes, I do believe his breakdown at the office is just a culmination of weeks of trying to exist in a new body, in a new environment, and away from his daughter without them. The call about the extended warranty is the final straw, and he just snaps and goes full self-deprecating and self-destructing. (The fact he goes back to the palace knowing he's defenceless against Andrealphus is also a sign that he's not thinking clearly about his life anymore, not caring if he lives or dies—another symptom of depression).

I really love how this episode didn't shy away from just how messy depression can be!

#Ask #helluva boss #stolas helluva boss #helluva boss stolas #depression tw #helluva boss sinsmas

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bemusedlybespectacled · 2 days ago

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The context you're missing is that the reason the person is immoral or corrupt is their genes. The word originally meant "someone who is worse than their ancestors" (so definitely still related to ancestry, even if they didn't know what DNA was). Essentially, the reason you're a bad person isn't because of your actions; it's because you were born that way, and nothing you can do can ever change it. And, conversely, being a good person is also genetic, and nothing you can do can ever change that, either.

Why is that a problem? Well, in the late 1800s/early 1900s, eugenics (the opposite of degeneration; "de" means down, "eu" means "good") became a popular "scientific" theory. It's the idea that every bad thing that happens to or is done by a person is actually a result of their genes. Not just actual genetic disorders, like Tay-Sachs disease, but also being poor or committing crimes. Literally, their thought process was, "We see that the children of poor families tend to also be poor. That must mean that poverty is genetic." (this was actually pretty well debunked in like 1911 but weirdly it kept being popular in/promoted by super racist people hmm I wonder why that would be)

If you were genetically perfect, then of course you'd be healthy, strong, intelligent, hardworking, wealthy, moral, and, most importantly, white; lacking any of those qualities meant that there was something wrong with your DNA somewhere. The best way to ensure that everyone was successful would be to just get rid of anything – that is, anyone – genetically bad, so that only the best people could breed with each other and have perfect children.

How do you do that? Well, for one, you make it illegal for anyone to marry outside of their race, and you make the requirements to be white incredibly difficult to prove (it wasn't based on skin color, but on any non-white heritage, no matter how white you actually looked) and draw the lines for everyone else very broadly (in the US South, it was literally "white" or "colored," with "colored" meaning anything from "just immigrated here from Africa" to "mostly white with a bit of Native American"), and require all of them to have some kind of identifying document or badge so that you can tell which is which. And you make it legal to sterilize undesirables: disabled people (both physical and mental), nonwhite people, and people of poor moral character (remember, being bad is genetic, and also in this era you think being gay is also a sign of poor moral character), just to ensure that there's absolutely no chance that someone might accidentally or deliberately sneak in.

(Eventually, you can also just kill them. Because that other stuff is taking too long.)

But remember! Evil is genetic! So of course there are always going to be nefarious actors deliberately trying to bring the whole race down and make it worse/weaker! And what's their evil plan? They'll encourage mixing good people with bad people with diabolical schemes like "making modern art" and "thinking it's okay for white people to listen to jazz" and "promoting civil rights for minorities." And what do we call "people who bring the whole race down"? Degenerates!

this was my thesis in college before i had a nervous breakdown so i know a lot about it. don't even get me started on how birth certificates are racist.

DNI lists on this website are fucking insane

#apologies to my dash for the thesis about nazi shit #eugenics is one of my weird special subjects that crosses over into my OTHER special subject which is right wing dipshittery (and cults)

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toughtink · 1 day ago

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regarding dandadan’s creepy aliens:

saw this screenshot floating around bsky (full text below) a bit ago and had to go find it again because i keep thinking about how poignant this breakdown of dandadan’s first ep is. i keep seeing people pronounce the series “problematic” and even going so far as to say the alien probe threat was encouraging rape culture. it’s like they can’t hold the idea of something being funny and scary, sexual but not necessarily titillating, at the same time. at least, i didn’t read it as being meant to erotically excite, especially since most people seem to have just been thoroughly creeped out. there’s definitely a moment where it feels like we’ve fallen into the beginnings of some hentai, but then the action starts going and roundhouse kicks that notion right in the face. it felt like purposeful expectation setting to me: “we’re gonna have things get creepy and toe that line of sexual horror and humor, but this story is going to focus on our protagonists leveling up to defeat these creeps.” in that sense, it’s nice to see when people make the informed decision to nope out if the story or style isn’t something they can enjoy.

[full text of screenshot, a forum post by Asterite34:

“It has occurred to me that the big spooky/problematic scenes here most closely resemble adolescent sex nightmares, with all the accompanying symbolism and externalization of personal anxieties. Neither experience has the tone or visual language of "realistic" sexual assault, nor the feel of lurid monster hentai or whatever. They have that feeling of disjointed surreal unreality that makes everything scary, sure, but also just sort of confusing and maybe actually slightly funny if it wasn't by all appearances actually happening to you. They're wet dreams with a side of sleep paralysis.

Okarun has an experience going into a dark tunnel and being confronted by vague sexual advances by an old woman who chases him down an endless corridor and traumatically (yet painlessly) castrates him. This is classic fear of women and anxiety about being impotent and emasculated and isolated, which certainly tracks with him being a bullied shy nerd who just met a girl who vaguely humors his nerdy interests for the first time ever.

Momo is wandering around in an abandoned building until she's captured by vaguely-featured salarymen clones who paralyze her and go on to calmly, smilingly explain that they're going to violate her with spiked phallic instruments and harvest her banana organs. This lines up with a conflict between adolescent sexual desire in the abstract and also a fear of loss of autonomy due to social pressure, which seems to be on her mind after her dickhead boyfriend broke up with her for not putting out.

It's only when the two dreams merge that each of them starts to get over their subconscious fears, with Ken subsuming his sense of isolation and owning his curse to become a monster that righteously emasculates his once-hoped-for alien friends/stand-ins for his bullies, and Momo overcoming her fear of being ostracized to roundhouse kick the symbolic boyfriend trying to take advantage of her.

And in the end, Okarun makes a connection with someone who won't abandon him even at his most pathetic and emasculated, and Momo connects with someone who clearly desires her but treats her with implicit respect.

In summary, communication is important, especially to teenagers.”]

#dandadan #i have more to say #esp re: ep 7 i think it is??#the naked in the hallway scene #because that’s the other one people say is Morally Wrong #completely ignoring how the narrative is using that choice #idk i find it really interesting

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writing-zelda-brainrots · 1 day ago

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Listen. Re:Zero is my favourite anime. Let me just yap about this for a minute.

One idea that I keep finding myself returning to when thinking about Linked Universe fanfics is the idea of [Name] having Return by Death from Re:Zero. I have many thoughts.

For those of you unfamiliar with the series, Return by Death is Subaru’s ability to return to a specific, predetermined point in time every time he dies. The user of this ability cannot change or choose where these ‘savepoints’ are, they change automatically at seemingly random (basically, think of them as the world ‘autosaving’ from time to time).

The user of RbD cannot tell anyone about this power, as the one in control of this authority can punish the user by squeezing their heart (basically giving them a heart attack) or by killing the person the user was talking to. Though it is important to note that this restriction goes for telling about RbD directly, so if the user speaks about it indirectly (for example in riddles/confusing metaphors) or if the listener does not understand/think much of the user's mutterings/ramblings, the curse will not take effect.

The user of RbD is almost always marked with a stench of ‘evil’ that makes them irresistible to monsters, leading them to lock onto and attack the user. Though the smell is mostly faint (not even noticeable to most people) a majority of the time, it becomes stronger when RbD or the curse activates. So, the more recent the death or punishment, the stronger the smell.

You better hope that none of the Links find out about this power or how many loops you've gone through (not that the curse would let you tell anyone, anyway). It would shatter them. All they know is that when you suddenly start tweaking, it’s time to lock in. It’s not that they ‘get used to’ your odd (to put it mildly) behaviour, but they do learn to back off and kind of just let it happen after you tell them to not worry about it. It’s still unnerving, but they don’t know what to do other than offer their concerns, since you never want to explain yourself.

Time realises quickly that something is up with you. You seem to know what’s going to happen ahead of time, even if you try to not make it obvious, you’re constantly planning ahead and removing yourself from the group to ‘collect your thoughts’ when you think no one would notice. He’s seen your mood shift dramatically at the drop of a hat. One minute you’re fine, laughing and joking, and suddenly you look like you’re about to have a mental breakdown or you wake up screaming bloody murder. Eventually, it all starts to feel awfully similar to how he was whenever he travelled through time. And all the pieces start to fit into place when he realises this. You have some ability related to time travel/clairvoyance, he just doesn't know how it works. But he is determined to figure it out, even if you never want to give him an answer, always avoiding the topic and trying to lead his attention somewhere else.

Despite how much Warriors teases you for being a ‘scaredy cat,’ he honestly thinks you’re irreplaceable. You’ve gotten the group out of many sticky situations, so much so that you must have some kind of future sight or the goddesses have gifted you with the most brilliant strategic mind in history. You always have a plan, you’ve never made a mistake, you can come up with an idea that’ll get them the best possible outcome all in the blink of an eye. If only they knew… Now if only he could do something about that stupid ‘self sacrificial’ habit of yours.

When forming a plan, he wants your input. When you say that the group should avoid an area, he takes that into consideration, even if when questioned, you say that it’s because you just ‘have a feeling.’ You have yet to be proven wrong in his eyes. He’s almost jealous of you. You unmasked a whole group of Yiga soldiers after being in town for less than a day, all based on tiny ‘hints’ that you noticed (little does anyone know that it took you about 8 loops to figure that mess out). Maybe you should be the head strategist of the group, huh? Not up for it? Alright, fine, but at least try to not steal his thunder, okay?

Hyrule is like Warriors, but way more. He believes you’re the coolest person to ever exist, even more worthy of the ‘hero’ title than him. You’re undoubtedly the weakest in the group, but you never give up, you’re still out there fighting because you believe you all can win. He’d trust you with his life if you asked. Travelling with the Chain made him realise how much he needed positive connections with others, so he wants to be there for you too, especially given he’s seen your ‘mood swings’ and self worth plummet. He is your number 1 supporter, just like you’re constantly inspiring him and others around you.

He also finds that he’s often healing you. He’s noticed that on days when you’re really out of it, you inflict harm onto yourself for reasons he can’t fathom. You’d scratch yourself until you begin to bleed, usually on your arms, but sometimes on your neck as well. He’s tried to snap you out of it, and while it does usually work, he can never get you to stop for good.

Hoo boy. Twilight. So you know how he almost died? Yeah, turns out that that injury was a ‘canon event’ that you cannot change. When you forced a RbD (in other words, you killed yourself), you found out that the fight had already happened and your last respawn point was set afterwards. That was the first time that Twilight realised that there was something seriously wrong with you. While Rulie was passed out from using too much magic, and the others wouldn’t dare enter the room for various reasons, and he was falling in and out of consciousness, you stood by his bedside, hardly able to choke back tears, apologising for ‘not being able to fix this.’

Of course, he had noticed that smell on you, how it seemed to fluctuate at random but still sticking to you, and how monsters were drawn to you like moths to a flame whenever that smell spiked. It reminded him of the Twili magic that clung to him. Could you have been affected by something similar? But by what and what did it do to you other than make you an irresistible target to monsters? This and other factors cause him to be very protective of you, similarly with how he is with Wild.

Wild is down for your crazy plans, even if he has to admit that some of them sound dicey at the very best. But you have the devil’s own luck and he’s honestly thankful that you’re the lucky one out of everyone.

While he is glad that others (including himself, of course) have high opinions of you, he’s keeping a close eye on you and how much pressure is put on you. While he might not remember much of his ‘previous life,’ he’s all too familiar with what happens when expectations are piled onto someone. Because of this, he’s trying to joke and laugh with you, telling embarrassing stories because he wants people to remember that you’re a person, not a walking list of accomplishments. But should you ask for his help, he’s not going to say ‘no.’

I want you to know that of all of the links, Legend is the one most determined to know what is up with you. Yes, he teases you the same way that Warriors does, but he recognises that you are deeply messed up (takes one to know one, bitch). He’s seen that faroff, dead look in your eyes and it felt so real that - if it was not for you blinking - he could swear he was looking at your corpse.

He once cornered you (literally) in an attempt to get you to tell the truth, but when he noticed that genuine fear in your eyes, he backed off. He swears that he’ll get to the bottom of it, but knows that forcing it out of you won’t help. Even if your ‘stubbornness’ is wearing his patience thin.

Sky is basically your therapy dog. You know how his Zelda was always standing up for him? Well, now he’s doing that with you. He knows a bullying victim when he sees one. He sticks close to you when in new places and should you show any signs of discomfort, tries to distract you.

One thing that makes him nervous though, is what happens when you come into contact with the Master Sword; it burns you. With some help from Twilight, Sky knows that there’s a ‘curse’ on you, which would explain some things about you. He doesn’t like how the sword’s power isn’t enough to get rid of it, like it could with Legend’s transformations. Whatever this curse is, it’s powerful and won’t be easy to get rid of. Not like he’ll give up on finding a cure.

Four is surprised at how quickly you begin to pick up on swordplay. Did he teach you some of those moves? He’s sure he would have remembered it if he had. Maybe Sky taught you? The Skyloft knight was the best swordsman in the group, so it’s possible. But something keeps nagging at him that that wasn’t the case.

You’re hiding something. Something big; he’s absolutely certain of it. And he knows that the others know too. Still, it’s not like none of them have secrets they’re sitting on. But what could possibly be so important that you won’t tell them? It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, you’ve shown time and time again that you’re an amazing person. It’s just that he feels a little hurt that you don’t trust them enough to tell them what’s going on with you. They’re all worried about you, but if it really means that much to you, he’s sure that you’ll tell them eventually.

Wind wants to make bets with you on basically anything and everything. Is it going to rain today? Who will be the first to trip on a rock and fall flat on their face? Will the next portal lead the group to his era? Yes, these questions are often silly, but he genuinely wants to keep you happy. That’s why he’s constantly sticking to your side, telling jokes and stories, inviting you to play some stupid game of chase. Wind is a lot more emotionally intelligent than many assume (mostly because they underestimate him due to his age), so he can tell when your mental health is about to take a nosedive, despite the happy ‘mask’ that you put on.

One person who you never thought would ‘understand’ you is the Fierce Deity. You have no idea how or why, but it seems like he holds you in very high regard. Not necessarily for your physical strength or weapon skills (lord knows you could never match him or any of the Links), but he seems to ‘get’ you, like he… Respects you? He can’t help but see you as a warrior in your own right. He looks at you and he sees that look in your eyes; the look of someone who has seen death many times. It’s a trait that is highly valued among warriors (because it shows experience) and often even seen as ‘attractive.’

He is actually the only one who learns the truth about you. Fierce has seen Time repeat the day night cycle over and over so many times, so he’s more than familiar with the concept of time travel. But when he learned the method behind your power - when, in a last ditch effort, you put the mask on and his mind and memories fused with yours - his respect for you shot up sky high, but he’s also incredibly worried about you. The toll that your ability has already taken on you is immense and he knows that it’ll only get worse as the group gets closer to defeating the one behind the portals. It’s times like these that he wishes he had the knowledge and ability to give you comfort. Yes, he has more than enough strength to protect you in a fight, but being locked away in a mask (one that his host refuses to use), leaves him useless.

All he can hope for is that you two could get a moment alone, where he can tell you that ‘he knows,’ and let you let out all the emotions that you’ve been forced to bottle up for much too long. If you want to use him as a shoulder to cry on and vent out everything you’ve gone through, he’ll let you. As for why he can’t be killed by the curse, it’s because his status as a literal deity is protecting him.

#linked universe x reader #lu x reader #linked universe imagines #lu imagines

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grlsbstshot · 1 day ago

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NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: Jameson's album is released to much celebration while Imani & Isaiah's relationship evolves. EJ prepares for a major life change and Genie's father, Kendrick, worries about his daughter while Camille does battle from two fronts.

Warnings: 18+ (MINORS DNI), smut!!!, oral sex (female receiving), daddy kink (male characters being referred to as that), p in v sex, dom/sub kink (if you squint -- shout out to dusanya), toxic relationship (intentional jealousy, deception, lying), usage of the n word -- if you white and read it, you owe us $20, mentions of therapy, emotional breakdowns, mentions of depression, deception in relationships -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 10.1k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes:

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

The hotel lobby buzzed with energy as Jameson’s promo team flitted around, coordinating schedules and prepping for the next interview. Camille lingered by the grand piano, scrolling aimlessly on her phone, but her focus kept drifting to Jameson. He stood across the room, deep in conversation with his publicist, his easy smile and confident presence commanding the space. Everywhere he went, people stopped to look. Even if they didn’t recognize him — he was a beautiful man, it was hard not to look.

Her heart swelled, and a giddy grin tugged at her lips when she realized that he was all hers. I’m his girlfriend. The thought still felt surreal, like she’d stepped into a dream she hadn’t dared to hope for. She wasn’t just part of his world—she was his.

“Hey,” Jameson called, breaking her reverie. He crossed the room toward her, his grin softening into something just for her. “You good?”

“Better now,” Camille said, her voice light but sincere. She reached for his hand, relishing the way his fingers laced through hers.

“Sorry it’s been nonstop,” he said, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Once this wraps, we’ll grab dinner. Just us.” His publicist damn near followed them everywhere since the album promo began. She kept a tight lid on the news surrounding Jameson — even refusing to let Camille do an interview mentioning Jameson. Suffice it to say, the two weren’t overly fond of each other. She’d be glad to get the other man out of their everyday lives.

She nodded, pleased that it was almost over. The day had been a whirlwind and while it was hectic being by his side — she loved it. Even when the lingering shadow of doubt kept creeping in.

Imani’s name had come up more than once during interviews, reporters keen to dig into the inspiration behind Jameson’s album. Camille had smiled through it, remaining unblinking in the face of his past but each mention chipped away at her confidence. She knew they were friends—Jameson had been upfront about that—but it didn’t make it easier.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her attention. She glanced at the screen and froze.

[ +33123456789 ]: Enjoy him while you can. I helped you get him but I can’t help you keep him. If that album’s anything to go by, he’s not over Imani. He’ll go running back to her eventually.

Camille’s chest tightened. She locked the screen quickly, shoving the phone back into her pocket as Jameson’s hand gave hers a reassuring squeeze.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly. “No, it’s fine,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Just a work thing.”

Jameson studied her for a moment, his gaze searching, but before he could press further, his publicist called him back. “Hold that thought,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

As he walked away, Camille’s smile faltered. The room felt suddenly too loud, too bright. She wanted to believe in Jameson, in them, but Sloane’s words lingered, feeding into her worst fears.

She tried to push Sloane’s words out of her head, but they kept resurfacing like a never-ending loop. It had all started at Paris Fashion Week when she and Sloane had been introduced by a mutual friend. They had hit it off immediately, bonding over their shared love for fashion. But as the night went on, the reasons for her move to Paris became clearer.

It was a classic tale of unrequited love – Sloane confessed to Camille that she was in love with a man who didn’t feel the same way about her. The man had chosen another woman and their relationship was chaotic on its best day, destructive on its worst. And it didn’t take long for Camille to realize who this man was – James Lucas.

At first, Camille dismissed it as just a silly crush. After all, Jameson was a famous musician and many women were drawn to him. But as Sloane continued to talk about him – praising his talent and charisma – Camille couldn’t help but feel sad for her. When the news came that Imani and James were over, it had been Camille’s suggestion that she spend time with Jameson to see if would accept Sloane back into his life.

Her job was simple: Talk to him, befriend him, put in a good word for Sloane. Things quickly escalated after she met him. He was just as magnetic as Sloane said…but there was a sadness within him. All she wanted to do was make him smile. Before she knew what was happening, they were in bed together and she was falling head over heels just as Sloane did.

Despite knowing her feelings for him were getting serious, she continued pretending to nudge him in Sloane’s direction – pumping her friend for information. Things he liked, things he hated. With every bit of info, she found herself closer and closer to him. It didn’t take ten years to get close. Sloane had already provided her with the cheat codes. And so she used them until Jameson was visiting her penthouse several times a week for more than just sex.

Guilt ridden but determined to keep him for herself, she began to slowly distance herself from Sloane. She erased everything, hoping not to get caught up. Sloane’s repeated texts and calls for updates went unanswered. What had been an amiable friendship quickly spiraled. Gone was the sweet but obviously love-stricken woman. In her place was a woman scorned — and Camille had earned her ire.

She glanced at Jameson again, watching the way he moved through the crowd with effortless charm. He was hers, but for how long? And if he still cared about Imani—if there was even a chance—could she handle being second best? For all the brave things she uttered to EJ at the party, she was terrified of losing Jameson. And Sloane reminded her that she had good reason to be.

Well, fuck that. Camille took her phone from her pocket and returned a text for the first time in months.

He and I just happened, Sloane. I didn’t intend it. But we’ve made a commitment to each other and nothing is going to undermine that. Not you, not Imani. Nothing. Leave me alone.

She took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the unease. She wasn’t going to let Sloane’s words ruin this moment. Not when she was here, with Jameson, living a reality she’d once only dreamed of. Still, the doubts lingered, heavy and unwelcome.

A month passed and she still only knew him as James Lucas. She hadn’t contacted him, and he hadn’t contacted her. It was bittersweet. It meant that she never had to hear about how great he and Camille were doing, but it also meant that she never got to see or hear him as Jameson. She had come to terms with this…until a few weeks ago when he seemed to be everywhere again.

His highly anticipated album, Midnight & Dawn, had finally dropped and in the week leading up to it, James Lucas made appearances on every late-night television show, radio segment, and podcast she could think of. His hit single, “Burn,” dominated the airways. He was damn near inescapable. Usually, Imani could handle his public blitz. Every time she saw his name or heard his song, she simply scrolled past it or changed the station. But during an interview on the popular Rhythm & Tea podcast, the damn bastard had to mention her name.

"Okay, let’s get into the details. It’s called Rhythm and Tea. Where’s the tea?” She teased him. “We love your new single, Burn. We have to know, James, is it about anyone in particular? Because we have our theories." "Let me hear the theories." "One of our producers think it's about your latest break up with our girl, Imani. Is that true?" He hesitated before offering a chuckle in response, "Yes, we wrote it a year or so ago. Around the time we broke up." Lea’s eyes went wide and she said “Ooooh.” Much to the amusement of her co-host but Jameson continued. “But I mean — it's Mani. She's a phenomenal woman. You lose someone like her, you feel it. For a long time. But I'm lucky. She and I have managed to be friends. I respect that so that's all I'll be saying.”

Imani watched the clip at least five times now, still reeling from the fact that he mentioned her name on the podcast. But her initial shock has since turned into annoyance. Why would he bring her up now? And friends? They hadn’t spoken in a whole month! And why was he still wearing that stupid watch? In every video she’s seen of him lately, he’s wearing the watch that she had given him. It didn’t make sense. If he moved on with someone else, why was he still wearing a physical reminder of their past relationship? Was he playing some kind of twisted game?

Imani let out an exasperated sigh as the video began to auto-play yet again. She quickly tapped the pause button, halting the incessant sounds. She hadn’t even heard the song yet. Imani had been diligently avoiding all texts and Instagram comments about his new album, but this interview was the final straw. She couldn’t resist it any longer.

She reached for her remote from her coffee table and turned on her speakers. A few swift taps on her phone and his voice filled the quietness of her house. She started with Midnight, immediately recognizing each lyric that referenced their tumultuous relationship.

As she listened to each track, some stood out more than others, but each one hit her harder than the last. The smooth, soulful beats of “Roll Some Mo” reminded her of the first time they met, their love still fresh and innocent. She could almost feel the warmth of her hand in hers and the pure bliss that consumed them.

But when she got deeper into the album and “Confessions” played, Imani’s heart ached with pain as she remembered Jameson’s infidelity and how deeply hurt she was. The lyrics cut her like shards of glass.

By the time she reached one of the final tracks, “Used to Be”, tears were streaming down her cheeks. It transported her to the dark space of their breakup, reliving that painful conversation they had and how much she regretted it the next day. His somber voice, accompanied by haunting strings, left her in a state of emotional turmoil. She huddled on her couch, pulling her knees to her chest as sobs wracked through her body. It was as if he had written those songs just for her, ripping open old wounds and pouring salt on them.

How long will it take me to remember? I'm afraid what we had is already faded We left it frozen in December Who's makin' the rules to make you stay? Ooh

They broke up last December. It couldn’t be anyone but her.

A dying rose in the winter I'm holdin' on every way I can Tell me, is this only just me By my lonely? Ooh

The sorrow in his voice cut through Imani’s heart like a knife. As he sang, memories flooded back, as if their breakup was happening all over again. She couldn’t hold back the tears that were steadily streaming down her face, her body trembled with each sob. In the year since they parted ways, Imani never once reached out to him or checked in with Genie to see how he was doing. Instead, she pushed away any reminders of Jameson, thinking it would make moving on easier. But now, as she listened to him mourn the death of their relationship, Imani was consumed with regret. She should have been there for him, even if they weren’t together anymore.

Imani inhaled deeply as the album came to a close, wiping her face dry. “Shit.” She said. Every song on Midnight had the power to transport her back in time to a different moment in her relationship with Jameson. Each track unlocked a new memory and stirred up a whirlwind of emotions for her. Each song reminded her of what they had lost, it was emotionally exhausting. She didn’t know if she could handle it all over again with the companion album – Dawn. But something compelled her to keep listening, so she pressed play.

Fightin' fuckin', fuckin' fightin' That's the way we love it, damn, I love you Playin' games just to get a reaction, pushin' buttons

Imani’s mind was flooded with more memories, each one hitting her like a wrecking ball. The fights, the passionate sex, and using other men to make him jealous – she knew all the cheat codes to get under his skin. Their love was complicated, turbulent, and consuming – but it was their own special kind of chaos. So why did it feel like he didn’t love their chaotic relationship anymore? She had been the one to walk away, to choose a different path, but she always thought she could come back to him. Now as she listened to Dawn, she wasn’t so sure.

Then came the songs that she knew were about someone else – Camille. Her tears turned into furrowed brows and heated skin as the realization hit her. Imani felt a surge of annoyance towards Camille – how dare she be the subject of his love songs? How dare she be the reason he sounded happy? They had only known each other for six months. In a fit of frustration, Imani unlocked her phone and quickly typed out a message to Jameson.

[ Imani ]: The album sounds amazing, friend. Congrats on the success, xoxo. [ 323-555-0198 ]: Thank you, Mani. For everything. I’m glad to see you’re well too, friend.

Furrowing her brow, Imani squinted at the message, her eyes scanning over it repeatedly as if she was searching for a hidden meaning. She couldn’t help but scoff and roll her eyes in frustration. The entire foundation of their friendship felt hollow and insincere. He hadn’t contacted her in weeks, but now his hands were free to type some bullshit ass text? Her fingers flew across the screen, furiously typing out a lengthy response. She read over it as her thumb hovered over pressing send.

But would he even care what she had to say? He was so wrapped up in Camille. He wouldn’t give a damn about her anger. It wouldn’t ignite him like the Jameson she knew. She huffed, closing out of his messages. It wasn’t worth the time or the energy. Frustrated and fed up with Jameson, Imani turned to someone she knew would take her mind off him and his dumb ass double album.

[ Imani ]: hey, i miss u. come see me. the gate code is 4592.

Isaiah Ellis was renowned as the highest-paid and most sought-after athlete in basketball. Men wanted to be him and women wanted to be with him. Isaiah was idolized and respected by many for his contributions to basketball. He wielded power on and off the court. People dropped to their knees to get him what he wanted. However, when it came to Imani, he was putty in her hands. She held all the power in their relationship and she knew it.

Since they met in New York, he’s stayed in contact with her. Isaiah checked in while he was away in different cities playing with his team. He showered Imani with expensive and lavish gifts. And whenever he was in Los Angeles, he dedicated his time to her. Now, Imani wasn’t a dummy. She knew he had other women in his life. She’d seen the tabloids and how Isaiah angled his phone away from her whenever she was near. Imani didn’t care, because he was simply a placeholder for a spot she needed to fill. His company brought her comfort, as he had a way of making her forget about Jameson, even if it was only for a few hours. It was a much-needed relief for Imani.

With Isaiah’s tongue and fingers working tirelessly to please her, Imani couldn’t help but moan and writhe beneath him. He had been going at it for hours – eating her pussy and bringing her to multiple orgasms before allowing her to rest and then starting again. Just when she thought he had gotten his fill, he proved his insatiable appetite by returning for more.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” she moaned as his warm breath sent shivers down her spine. His tongue expertly flicked against her clit while his fingers plunged deep inside her with each stroke. She gripped his head as she matched his rhythm with her hips. “You gon’ make me cum again.”

“That’s what I want, mama. Give it to me.” He mumbled against her clit. Isaiah picked up the pace, his tongue joined in on the action. He was greedy, practically begging for her release with his fingers searching for that right spot.

His tongue pressed harder against her causing Imani to spiral towards yet another orgasm. “I’m…I’m…” she gasped loudly before succumbing to pleasure once again. He slowly stroked her through her release before tenderly cleaning the wetness around her pussy with his tongue and lips.

“Mmm,” he groaned against her sensitive flesh. “I can’t get enough of your pretty pussy.” He kissed her clit, making her shudder one last time. Isaiah released her from his embrace. Then he stood and made his way to the bathroom, giving Imani time to slip into her thong and return to the comfort of her king-size bed. He soon joined her, settling in by her side.

“You sure everything alright, baby? You seem off tonight,” Isaiah asked, his hands roaming over her smooth skin. Imani forced a smile and replied, “Yeah, I’m fine. I promise.” But she was lying. She couldn’t shake Midnight & Dawn, specifically the songs she heard about Camille. Despite Isaiah’s best efforts, even he couldn’t make her forget about Jameson and how he felt about Imani. Was he really happy with her? Did Camille make him happier than she did? She was tired of wondering and feeling jealous of another woman. Imani hated him because of the power he had over her. No man could make her insane like he could.

She reached for her phone on the nightstand and unlocked it. Imani didn’t know this Jameson, but she knew exactly what to do to drive the old Jameson insane. She just hoped that side of him wasn’t gone too. He needed to feel what she had been feeling since this morning: jealousy. Opening up Instagram, she tapped to post as Isaiah adjusted himself, resting his head on her stomach. He said something, but Imani didn’t hear him. She was focused on finding the perfect picture of Isaiah to post. After finally selecting one, she thought of a caption and hit post. Hopefully, this would be enough to make Jameson suffer.

Jameson stood in the middle of Camille's bedroom, thumb frozen over the picture that he hadn’t been expecting to see.

In the weeks since his lunch with Imani, he had wanted to reach out but he didn’t know quite what to say. Being friends with a woman you were in love with but trying not to be in love with was…weird. It was difficult. He didn’t know how to talk to her but he held on to the positive side of things: they wished one another well.

He didn’t know he’d regret those words. He had just opened Instagram, more out of habit than intention, but he had searched her name purposely. He could hear Camille her in her walk in closet, going through clothes to decide what to wear for dinner but he couldn't quite contain himself.

It wasn’t even a picture of Imani. He had spent more time than he liked simply going to her page, staring at pictures of her, and then closing out of the app when he realized how pathetic it was. But this one, he knew he never wanted to see again.

A man sat on a couch, surrounded by dogs. Her mother’s dogs. This nigga met her mama? He wasn’t looking at the camera but he obviously knew the picture was being taken while he played around with the dogs. It wasn’t just the fact that she had taken it and posted it to her account that incensed him. Or the fact that he seemed to already meet her family. It was also the caption. That was the worst part.

One word: Daddy 🥰

Before he could stop himself, he felt the anger well in his chest — making him tighten his grip on the phone. He’d seen her with other people. Grainy photos taken from a distance but she had never posted them herself. He could console himself with the delusion that if she didn't claim them, it didn't matter. But this man was on her page. This man was claimed by her. And she was calling him things she had only ever called Jameson.

His thumb hovered over the screen, tempted to click on the comments, but he stopped himself. He didn’t need to see the flood of people gushing over how happy they were for her. Fuck him. And fuck her right in that moment.

When did she meet him? How long had they been together? Was this why she had so easily accepted his offer of friendship? A million questions raced through his mind as he tried to make sense of it all.

He couldn’t understand why she would post something like that on social media. Was she trying to hurt him? They played games like this often when they were together — seeing who could and would react first. It was part of the allure of being with Imani. Part of the excitement. But they weren't together now so...what was the point? He had no hope for a romantic one but he hadn't wanted to lose her. But now — he wasn't sure if he could even stand talking to her without frustration bubbling over.

As soon as that thought occurred to him, Jameson knew he was being unreasonable. How could he be jealous? He told her he wanted to be friends. He really did want the best for her. So why did this affect him so much? The answer was right there — lurking in the recesses of his brain: You wanted to be the only man for her. You wanted to be the only man to know what it felt like to bring her to the brink of bliss — to get her so out of control that she called you that one word.

He was a piece of shit.

“Babe, what do you think?” Camille’s voice floated in from the closet. Jameson didn’t bother looking up from his phone as he responded. “Huh?”

“The dress,” Camille said, walking in and doing a twirl. She looked beautiful in a gold gown, shimmering every time she swayed her hips. It was a walk people paid millions for but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. “Do you think they look okay here?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” he said quickly, his voice tight.

Camille tilted her head, studying him. “What happened?”

Jameson forced himself to stop looking, peering up at his girlfriend and trying to school his features into something that didn’t resemble anger. “Nothing, baby. I’m good. I’m sorry. I’m just uh—scheduling an appointment with my therapist.”

She didn’t look convinced but she didn’t push. Instead, she blew him a kiss as she walked back into the closet for shoes.

Jameson exhaled slowly, his fingers curling into fists. Images of Imani fucking another man filled his mind. The worst part was the way he heard an echo of her in his head. Instead of making him happy that she had found someone, he felt a fresh rush of anger.

But there was no time for it. Camille didn’t deserve his misplaced frustration. He had made the decision to move forward in their relationship. And he was going to follow through on it. Jameson took one last look down at the image, a scoff leaving his mouth. He clicked her name, scrolled her profile, and went through the process of blocking her.

It made him feel better for all of two minutes. Two minutes that he used to remind himself that he was a taken man now. He told himself to let it go, to focus on what he had with Camille. She was kind, patient, and everything he should want. She knew him so well that it was like they had been together most of his life. She didn’t play games. She didn’t take pride or pleasure in sending him reeling. All she wanted to do was be with him. He should cherish that.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of Imani. The caption echoed in his mind, and a bitter thought followed: He ain’t me and I hope she hates it. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. He had to get over her. He had to.

Just then, his phone beeped – alerting him to a text message.

[ ej dupree ]: everything’s set [ ej dupree ]: just left kendrick’s house. he officially allowed me to take genie’s hand in marriage 🎉 [ jameson ]: congratulations 👏 ken don’t play about his baby so if he says yes, you must have impressed him [ ej dupree ]: you know me. i’m a impressive muhfucka [ jameson ]: shut up nigga 😂 [ ej dupree ]: you and camille still coming? [ jameson ]: of course, man. wouldn’t miss it for the world. i’m happy for y’all.

“Baby?” Camille’s voice called softly.

He looked up, feeling better after the text from EJ but still annoyed at Imani. It took effort but he managed to school his expression into something calm and collected. “Mhm?”

“I'm ready.” she said with a small smile.

He gave her a small smile, moving toward her in the doorway as he shoved his phone into his back pocket. “I'm ready too.” He saw a genuine smile on her face then and felt guilt hit him in the gut. She was worried about him. Jameson framed her face, leaning in to kiss her softly. “Thank you for taking me to dinner. Thank you for wanting to celebrate me. I’m sorry for being so inattentive. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

Kendrick leaned back in his chair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass of iced tea. The lounge room in his Beverly Hills home was quiet, the kind of quiet he liked—just enough jazz in the background to keep the silence from feeling too heavy. Across from him, Anaïs Lucas sat with her usual grace, her sharp eyes watching him like she could see right through him.

Even now, years removed from his days on the court, Kendrick still had the presence of a man who once ruled arenas. The framed photos on the lounge walls—him in a Lakers jersey, mid-dunk, or holding the championship trophy—were a constant reminder of his legacy. People still whispered his name when they saw him, still asked for photos and autographs when he stepped out in public. But here, with Anaïs, he wasn’t the legendary Kendrick Adesanya. He was just a man trying to find his footing.

“You’ve been staring at that glass for five minutes,” Anaïs said, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “That means you’re overthinking.”

“Am I that predictable?” Kendrick asked, a small smile breaking through. “To me? Always,” she teased, her voice softening.

Kendrick exhaled, leaning forward slightly. “It’s Genie. And Jamie.”

Anaïs tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Go on.” “I’m worried about our kids.” He admitted softly. “…I may or may not also be worried about Jamie.” Anaïs confessed. “But about Imogen? Never.” “She’s getting married.”

Anaïs’s eyes went wide but she said nothing, waiting for him to finish.

“I like the boy,” Kendrick began, his tone measured. “He’s solid. Respectful. Loves her, I can tell. He came to the house. Asked for permission to propose. I know it’s just a courtesy but it was good he asked. I just…”

“You can’t let your baby go.” Anaïs finished, her smirk turning into a knowing smile.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It's not just that. But she’s my only one, Anaïs. My baby girl. I want her to be happy and I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“She’s got a good head on her shoulders,” Anaïs reassured him. “I know EJ. He’s a good man. Says what he means, driven, loyal. They’ll be okay.”

Deep down, Kendrick knew that. Genie had a good head on her shoulders but he was afraid for her. EJ was a man who seemed to know what he wanted. Genie had many friends — was known as the Princess of the Staples Center — but he worried she was too impressionable. Even at the age of twenty eight.

Her mother died when she was a child and it left Kendrick struggling to raise her. She was a lonely kid, surrounded by mostly adults, but blossomed. By some miracle, she turned out to be a remarkable human being. Kind, considerate, loving. He juggled a professional career at a level that men half his age would have fumbled but raising Genie was his pride and joy. For all her virtues, his baby was whimsical. She couldn’t make a decision to save her life. One week, she wanted to be an actress. The next, she wanted to be an actress and a lawyer.

By the time she was eighteen, none of those dreams had mattered. She settled on fashion design. Went to college for it. Did tons of internships. He would know. He paid for it all. The degrees, the pied-à-terre in Paris, the apartment in Rome that turned into a house in Umbria, the manufacturing of a test line of clothing, and now...he was working on building her a brick and mortar store. If she ever debuted the fashion line she'd been working on for half a decade. Kendrick watched as his daughter did her best to find her place in the world. He wanted more for her than to be someone’s wife.

“I wanted her to find herself before she had a family. I want all those dreams she has to come to fruition. She’s just...so young.”

Anaïs tilted her head, her expression softening. “She’s not a little girl anymore, Kendrick. She’s not lost—she’s just carving her own path.”

Kendrick exhaled, his broad shoulders slumping slightly. “I know that. I do. But when I see her with EJ, I can’t help but think she’s gonna rush into something she doesn’t fully understand yet because she loves him. Marriage, kids—it’s a lot.”

Anaïs studied him for a moment, her gaze sharp but kind. “You’re projecting.”

Kendrick blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’re projecting,” she repeated, her voice steady. “You didn’t marry me because you weren’t ready. You achieved everything there was to achieve and still...you hesitated. You see marriage as the end and not the beginning. Which means you’re still not ready. But Genie isn’t you. She’s got a different story to write.”

He frowned, his jaw tightening. “That’s not why we didn’t get married.” “It isn’t?” she questioned with a laugh, knowing she was right.

Kendrick didn’t answer right away. He stared at the ice melting in his glass, his thoughts tangled. “This isn’t about us. I just don’t want her to wake up one day and wonder what could’ve been.”

Anaïs reached out, placing a hand over his. “She won’t. Because she knows who she is, and she knows what she wants. You raised her to be strong, Kendrick. Trust her.”

He looked at her, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Anaïs chuckled softly, withdrawing her hand. “I’ve had years of practice.”

Kendrick hesitated, the weight of their shared history pressing against his chest. “What about Jamie?” he asked, steering the conversation away from his daughter. “You think he knows what he wants?”

Anaïs sighed, shaking her head. “Jameson’s…complicated. The album’s been a reflection of everything he’s going through. And Imani—”

“Imani,” Kendrick interrupted, his brow furrowing. “You’ve mentioned her before. I haven’t met her, but it sounds like she’s a big part of his life. Genie loves her to pieces.”

“She is,” Anaïs admitted. “They’re not together anymore, but she’s still important to him. They’ve been through a lot together. I don’t know. I thought bringing them together would help but I think I’ve made it worse. He seems so conflicted now.”

Kendrick frowned. “Doesn’t sound like he’s fully moved on.”

“Maybe he hasn’t,” Anaïs said, her voice quiet. “But moving on isn’t always linear. Sometimes, the people from our past shape us in ways we don’t expect.”

Kendrick’s gaze lingered on her, the unspoken weight of their own past hanging between them. “Well…,” he said softly. “Now who’s projecting?”

Anaïs met his eyes, her expression unreadable. “I am not.” She said firmly. Kendrick returned her the smug laughter she’d given him only moments before. “We walked away from each other. You want him to figure it out with Imani…because we didn’t.”

For a moment, the years melted away, and it was just the two of them again—two people who had loved deeply but had never made it work. Despite ten years and an engagement, they never could quite make each other fit into their worlds.

He wanted to say more, to tell her that he still thought about her, about them. But the words caught in his throat, and all he could do was hold onto the moment, hoping it wouldn’t slip away too quickly.

Instead, Kendrick cleared his throat, his voice steady but quiet. “You know, I’ve never wanted to overstep with Jamie but…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I’d want to give him good fatherly advice even though I know I’m not his father. I’d tell him not to let the good ones slip away. Not because of fear or pride or anything else that gets in the way. If Imani’s that person for him, he needs to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Anaïs’s gaze softened, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You’ve known him since he was ten. You may not be his father biologically, Kendrick, but he looks at you and sees one. So you are.”

Kendrick blinked, caught off guard by the weight of her words. He shifted in his seat, his broad shoulders straightening as he processed what she’d just said. “He’s never said but…I wouldn’t mind if that’s the way he felt,” he said after a beat, his voice gruff. “That boy’s got a lot of heart. He’s always gone after what he wanted. If he’s got something special with Imani, then maybe he needs to remember what he stands to lose.”

Anaïs tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “I’ve tried. But Jameson’s stubborn, and he’s still figuring it out.”

Kendrick leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “I said he needs to remember. Our babies are grown now. We have to step back. Let them fumble through it. You were right earlier. Genie is carving her own path. I have to let her. Just like you have to let Jameson be.”

She studied him for a long moment, her sharp eyes softening with something close to gratitude. “You always know how to put things into perspective.” she said quietly.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Not always. But I’ve learned a thing or two along the way.”

Anaïs smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “Thank you, Kendrick. For caring. About me. About Jamie.”

His gaze lingered on her, the words he wanted to say still caught in his throat. Instead, he nodded, his voice steady. “Always. You know that.”

The jazz in the background shifted to a slow, soulful tune, filling the quiet between them. For a moment, Kendrick let himself imagine what it might have been like if things had turned out differently—if they’d found a way to make it work all those years ago. But as Anaïs’s smile lingered, he knew he was exactly where he was supposed to be, even if it wasn’t the way he’d once hoped.

Genie hummed softly to herself as she rearranged the clothes in her suitcase. Her little family vacation was set. They left in two days and Genie was ready. Her father promised to drop in for a couple of days — he had a business meeting at the end of the week so he wouldn’t be with them the full week but Friday and Saturday was good enough for Genie. It had been a while since she got to spend completely uninterrupted time with him and she was excited.

It was even better that EJ’s mother and sister agreed to come. When EJ suggested they get their families together, Genie immediately considered inviting Imani. Just as soon as the thought came, it left. They were slowly getting back to where they used to be. Inviting her to be on a snowy mountain with her, EJ, and other people she didn’t know seemed…excessive. But Genie couldn’t help but wonder if they should invite more people.

Namely...Jameson. He was her family. But inviting Jameson meant he would probably bring Camille and Genie felt like that was taking a side against Imani. She didn't want to do that so she made due with her father and EJ's family.

As she tugged the sleeve of some fabric from her closet, she realized that it wasn’t hers. It had to be EJ's. They were getting down to the wire. Their flight left tomorrow and waiting til the last minute to pack hadn't been her brightest idea but she was getting it done. She should have just thrown it back into the closet but it was one of his favorites. She decided to be a good, mindful girlfriend and pack it for him. His suitcase was already prepared but she dragged it out of the closet, unzipped it, and flipped the heavy case open. Humming to herself, she unzipped one section and began folding the jacket. Her hand hit something hard when she wedged it inside. A box?

Genie pulled the jacket out and tossed it aside, reaching back into the section and grasping the box. It was small, made out of black velvet, and heavy.

Her heart stopped.

She didn’t mean to open it, not really, but her hands moved on their own, trembling as she flipped the top. Inside was a stunning diamond ring, its facets catching the sunlight streaming through the window. A gorgeous two stone ring. One of the large pear shaped diamonds was pink. The other was a brilliant white. The band ensured the diamonds would circle the finger of anyone who put it on. It wasn't the usual ring but it was perfect. For her. She gasped so loud that she started to choke on her own spit.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her breath hitching.

This wasn’t just any ring. It was the ring. EJ was going to propose.

Her pulse thundered in her ears as she snapped the box shut and set it on top of his suitcase like it was a live grenade. She stared at it for a long moment, her thoughts swirling. Was it too soon? Were they ready for this? Did he even know what he was doing? Her panic only grew as the minutes ticked by. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and opened her messages. There was only one person she could think to text.

[ Genie ]: imani, i need you.[ Genie ]: i think ej is going to propose.[ Genie ]: i found the ring. i’m losing my shit

The dots indicating Imani was typing appeared almost immediately.

[ Mani Mani ❤️]: breathe, genie. where did you find it? [ Genie ]: in his suitcase. we're going on a trip. but i wasn’t snooping, i swear![ Mani Mani ❤️]: i know you weren’t. just…what do you want to do?

Genie stared at the ring again, her chest tightening. She didn’t know what she wanted to do. She loved EJ. He was the kindest, most supportive man she’d ever been with. He was loving, he was protective. He took care of her emotionally and physically. Nobody had ever made her toes curl and her face hurt from smiling. Nobody but him. But marriage? That was a big step. They had only been together for a year and hadn't even moved in together.

What if he proposed and realized it was a mistake? How would she recover from losing him? What if they got engaged and he changed? It was terrifying. Her thumbs flew across the screen.

[ Genie ]: i need you to come to aspen with us. [ Mani Mani ❤️]: what? [ Genie ]: please, mani! i think he’s going to ask me there, and i need you. i can’t do this alone.

The dots appeared again, then disappeared. Genie held her breath, waiting. Finally, Imani’s response came.

[ Mani Mani ❤️]: i'll be there

Relief flooded through Genie but she didn’t even have time to text a response – she heard EJ calling for her from the living room. Her eyes went wide as she immediately dropped her phone and grabbed the box, shoving it back where she got it from and hastily tried to close up his suitcase. “I’m up here, love!”

She heard him come her way and barely had enough time to shove the heavy case back into the closet before he entered the bedroom. Genie played off her breathlessness by stretching her arms over her head and then to the left.

“...What you doing?” he asked her, humor evident in his tone. “...Yoga.” she replied nervously. “You acting weird,” he said bluntly. “What happen?” “Nothing!” Genie replied quickly, waving her hands in front of him. “Where you been?”

EJ raised an eyebrow at her abrupt change in conversation but he walked further into the room and lifted his head. Genie knew exactly what it meant. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips. He grinned at her, pleased that they seemed to have their very own shorthand.

“That yoga stuff works?” he asked curiously. She noticed that he didn’t answer her question but Genie didn’t press. Instead, she decided to distract. “Yes, sir.” Genie replied, pressing a kiss to his nose. EJ immediately knew where things were going. “Do you want to try it out?” She smirked when EJ’s eyes went wide and he nodded his head slowly.

"What's this position called?" he asked her gruffly, holding on tightly to Genie as she twisted her hips. Her suitcase was left halfway pulled together, all thoughts of the ring stuffed in his bag was lost. Genie was lost. Her jaw dropped as she clung to EJ, her hand tightly against the back of her head as she ground down onto him.

"You don't hear me talking to you?" He asked her and her breathing hitched. "Um...It's--It's called the Lotus." She whispered, leaning in for a kiss. EJ reared back, depriving her of it.

"Focus, Genie. This is important," he said, his gaze intense but lips quirking into a teasing grin. Even when they weren't playing, EJ was perpetually in control. Genie's heart raced, wondering how to get what she wanted from him.

Instead of kissing her, he stared at where they were joined, a blissful expression on his face. His eyes were teasing but hooded. Without hesitation, he wedged his hand between them. Genie tensed and cried out, her back arching.

"You want to know something?" EJ asked her and Genie started nodding, not even cognizant of the fact that he was asking her something. "I believe you." He placed his hands against her hips, halting her movements and Genie's eyes went wide with panic. It felt so fucking good. Why was he stopping her?

The two struggle for control. EJ keeping her still with strong hands and Genie whimpering and begging lowly. He pressed his full lips to her ear, talking lowly as he controlled the pace and sank into her slowly. "You take this shit so good." He praised her. Pride raced through Genie's body as she stopped struggling, willing to do anything to get his approval. "You so wet for me."

The words sank into her bones and filled her body with warm satisfaction. Each time his pelvis ground against hers, she felt heat filtering in and spreading straight to her clit. A moan escaped her lips with every thrust -- as if he pushed it out of her. She was nothing but putty in his hands.

Her breathy little whimpers doing more to drive him crazy than anything. "Baby, you gotta be quiet or I swear it's gonna be over before I'm ready."

Genie really did try to stop but she couldn't. The sounds came from her with ease. It was like he had asked her to stop breathing -- she would if she could for him...but she couldn't.

EJ lifted a hand from her hips, covering her mouth with his palm. Another came up, pressing to the nape of her neck as he began to thrust into her with earnest. Each glide in brought a grunt from him and a gasp from her. She was entirely in his control and it was addictive.

Her orgasm was immediate and so visceral that it sent a shudder through Genie. Heat blossomed in her stomach before spreading out all over her body. She screamed behind his hand, tingles spreading out all over her body. Even as she flew into the clouds, EJ kept her grounded. He wasn't done yet.

"I love you." he growled.

Genie mumbled something behind his hand, her eyes drifting closed as she clung tightly to him. EJ lifted his hand just in time to hear her mumble it again.

"I love you more."

A rumble of satisfaction came from his chest and he rested his forehead against hers. "I'm gonna come inside you and then I'm going to make love to you again." He promised her, his lips hovering against her own. They grazed one another and Genie panted against his. Finally -- he let her kiss him. It started slow, building the more she realized that he wouldn't pull away. Soft and timid turned into wet and messy. The wilder she got, the harder he thrust into her.

He didn't pick up the pace. He kept it deep and slow -- with an intimacy that made her feel glorious...and guilty. She had doubted their love for each other in a brief moment. Sex didn't make a marriage but in that moment...Genie knew that she could trust EJ to take care of her. Always.

When he came, he kept his promise. It was inside her. And within ten minutes, he had flipped over and they were starting all over again.

Aspen was gorgeous. White snow everywhere, a large expansive house in the hills. EJ had gone all out for Genie and Jameson was glad. He couldn’t wait to watch them get engaged. He and Camille arrived the day after his friends but they were greeted almost immediately. Genie seemed flustered but was polite to Camille and it pleased Jameson. He had told Cami everything about his family. About how he considered Genie his sister and Kendrick, Genie’s father, better than his own father. She knew it was major that she was meeting either of them.

It was shaping up to be a perfect trip even before he and Camille finished packing their bags…before EJ burst into their room. He didn’t knock and Jameson immediately knew something was wrong. “What is it? What happened?”

“Jamie,” EJ said, slightly out of breath. “Let me talk to you in the hall.” “What?” “The hall, nigga!”

Jameson reluctantly followed, closing the door tightly behind him. He didn’t even get to ask again. EJ told him bluntly. “Imani is here.”

Jameson stiffened. “What do you mean, she’s here?”

“She’s staying here. Genie asked her to come.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His mind raced with questions—Why would she come?—but he forced himself to stay calm. EJ launched into an explanation about it all being a mixup but Jameson didn’t care. All he could focus on was the fact that he couldn’t fuck this trip up.

“It’s fine,” he said after a moment, though his voice was tight. “We can get along for a few days.”

EJ gave him a skeptical look. “You sure? Because this can’t get messy. This is important, Jamie.”

“I know, man. I’m not gonna fuck this up for y’all.” Jameson promised, “I’m gonna ask Cami what she wants to do. If she wants to stay, we’ll stay and everything will be cool. I swear.”

EJ hesitated, then nodded. “I’ma trust you to mean that.” “I do. It’s alright, man.”

He did his best reassuring EJ, noticing that even though he agreed — he didn’t relax. He was nervous and Jameson’s shit with Imani was making it worse. When he returned to the room, Camille immediately pounced on him.

“Everything okay?,” she asked.

Jameson took her hand, sighing softly. He couldn't break it to her gently. The best way was to put it out there. “Imani’s here,” he said carefully. “She’s staying. Genie called and invited her.”

Camille’s expression didn’t change much, but her grip on his hand tightened slightly. “Oh.”

“She didn’t know we were coming, baby. EJ didn’t tell her. Genie wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.” He said softly, rushing to reassure her that Genie wasn’t on some mean girl shit. Sure, he and Imani had agreed to be friends but anyone would know that this would be an awkward situation for them. “I didn’t know she was coming,” Jameson added quickly. “So it’s up to you. If you want to go, we’ll go. If you’re okay with staying, we’ll stay.”

Camille lifted her gaze to him, giving him a soft smile. “It’s okay. I don’t want you to miss a family trip.” She rose to the tips of her toes, kissing his lips softly. “We’re staying.”

Relief washed over him, but it was tinged with guilt. She trusted him and he was still struggling with his feelings for Imani. It made him want to be better for her. He didn’t want to give her any reason to regret believing in him.

“Thank you,” he said, kissing her back. “Let’s go down and say hi to her. Get this over with.”

She agreed and the two of them finished unpacking. Jameson took her hand in his own and they walked downstairs together. He was doing his best to prepare and in his head, he ran through everything he needed to do. Don’t stare at her. Don’t hug her. Don’t smile at her too long. Shake her hand, give her a nod, and welcome her. Then leave.

It didn’t take long until he saw her. Once they hit the bottom of the stairs, there she was. Strutting through the living room, not holding a damn thing in her hands. All her bags were with the tall man that Jameson immediately recognized — and his stomach dropped into his feet. Every bit of the pep talk he had given himself faded. He felt annoyance filter through his body as his stomach twisted. Why the fuck would she bring this new ass nigga on a family trip?

She looked up from her phone to see him and froze in her tracks. Jameson had to remind himself not to let Camille’s hand go. “Hey.” he muttered, doing his best to seem friendly and not pissed the fuck off. “EJ told us you were here. We wanted to say hi.”

Imani blinked at him before easily giving him a smile. He hated it almost immediately. “Nobody told me you guys were here but hi.”

“Hi, Imani,” Camille said warmly, her grip on Jameson’s hand steady. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Imani turned to give her a smile. “Nice to see you again too,” she mumbled. She turned to the man behind her and beckoned him forward. “This is Isaiah.”

Jameson lifted his free hand, offering it to the man even as he had several bags in his hands. Never let it be said he couldn’t play nice. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Isaiah replied, putting a bag down to grasp Jameson’s hand tightly. His tone was polite but distant, his handshake strong but not insistent. He didn’t seem to think he had anything to prove to Jameson and even the thought of that pissed him off. At least Camille knew Imani was competition.

Jameson glanced at Imani, his heart pounding despite himself. Everyone had lapsed into silence and he knew there wasn’t much more to be said. “We won’t hold you. Just wanted to say hi. Looking forward to the rest of the weekend.” Isaiah gave him a nod, picking up the bag again, and then he did something that pissed Jameson off. It was small, a quick gesture that probably wouldn’t have made him feel a way if he didn’t have feelings for Imani.

Isaiah urged her forward with a pat against her ass. “Let’s get settled in, baby.” He told her. And she listened. She did what he asked, moving forward and giving Jameson and Camille a quick wave. He bit down on his tongue so hard that he could swear he tasted blood. The urge to curse the stranger out so strong that he didn’t know what the fuck was coming over him.

He watched the two start to go up the stairs and a terrible idea occurred to him. One he was ashamed of…but he didn’t stop himself. He peered down at Camille, noticing she seemed a lot more relaxed to see that Imani had brought someone. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” She said softly. “Mm.” Jameson said noncommittal. He didn’t want to admit that he knew. Instead, he focused on her. He brought both his hands around her waist, pressing to the small of her back. “Let’s go find the hot tub.”

Her eyes went wide. “We just got here. We need to find something to eat.” “I know what I want to eat.” He said softly, making her giggle.

Jameson moved to kiss the side of her head, moving down to her neck. He placed a few kisses there as Camille’s hands came to press to his shoulders…but that wasn’t getting the job done. He dragged his tongue along her skin, pride hitting him when she gave an involuntary whimper. Jackpot.

He peered up towards the stairs. Imani and Isaiah didn’t turn back but he saw her steps falter.

Good. Seeing Imani with someone else stirred something deep and unpleasant in him and part of him wanted her to know she had pissed him off.

Imani didn’t think to ask Genie if Jameson was coming to Aspen. All she wanted to do was be there for Genie. She had failed her so much during the year they had been apart. She knew there was a possibility. He and EJ were thick as thieves. Why wouldn’t he support his best friend as he took that next step with Genie? She needed to be prepared, so she took drastic measures by inviting Isaiah. It may have seemed foolish to invite someone she had only known for a month on a family trip, but she couldn’t bear the thought of facing Jameson and Camille alone. She still didn’t know how Jameson felt about her. Her latest Instagram post generated no response. He didn’t call or text her. There was nothing.

She was starting to think that he moved on for real this time. That he was done with her…until she spotted the glare on his face when he saw Isaiah. He was uncomfortable. Everyone else didn’t see it, but she did. She knew that exact look because it was familiar to her. Jameson further confirmed her suspicion when she spotted his glare at Isaiah after he patted her ass. He was jealous, just like she wanted him to be. It took everything in her not to smirk.

Imani took her victory in stride, trying not to appear too happy as she ascended the steps. She heard the kissing noises, but she paid them no mind. It wasn’t until she heard Camille whimpering that she nearly tripped over her feet. Like clockwork, her temper flared. Imani almost stomped a hole into the stairs with every step she took. Oh, this was how he wanted to play? Well, she could play that game too.

Once she reached the top step, she peered over her shoulder to see if Jameson was still there. He was. Without hesitation, her finger hooked into Isaiah’s belt loop. “Come here, daddy. I packed something special just for you.” She said softly, pulling him towards one of the bedrooms.

Isaiah’s intense gaze locked onto Imani, his dark eyes tracing every curve and contour of her body. He couldn’t help but to bite his lip in anticipation. “Well, what you waiting on, mama? Show me.” She laughed, probably a little too loud. Imani couldn’t see it but she could feel Jameson’s icy glare, it was cold enough to give her frostbite. She reveled in the feeling of power it gave her - she refused to let him have the upper hand over her, not now, not ever.

Nina Dupree stood in the kitchen, peeking around the corner as she sipped from a mug of coffee. She heard company arriving but before she could go out and greet them -- she heard Jameson's striking voice come down. One look around the corner and she saw the exes come face to face. Her eyes went wide but she didn't say anything. Their voices didn’t carry, but their body language spoke volumes. Jameson was standing with another woman but his gaze consistently strayed to Imani. There was a tension between them that she was confused about how anybody could miss it. Seemed like messy unfinished business.

“Imani is here?!” Ella whispered, peering around the corner and leaning against her mother. Nina jumped, forgetting her daughter was in the kitchen with her. Her phone was in hand, the screen lighting up with a stream of notifications, but her attention was fixed on Jameson and Imani.

“Yes. Did your brother mention that to you?" Ella shook her head, her gaze bouncing back and forth between Jameson and Imani. She gave a low whistle. “Awkward. She's here with someone else?” “Seems like it,” Nina replied.

Ella tilted her head, studying the scene like it was a reality show. “Oh, that's gonna be a mess.”

Nina sighed, her gaze following her daughter’s. She saw the way Jameson’s arm tightened around Camille but his brows furrowed as he looked at the man next to Imani. It was subtle, but Nina caught it. She always did.

Ella leaned back, crossing her arms. “Bet you ten dollars we'll see hella drama this weekend.”

Nina shot her a look. “Ella.”

“What?” Ella grinned. “I’m just saying. You can’t put two people with that much history in the same house and not expect fireworks.”

“This is EJ’s trip,” Nina reminded her firmly. “Let them sort out their mess, but we’re staying out of it.”

Ella shrugged, her thumbs flying across her phone screen. “Fine. But if it gets messy, I’m tweeting it.”

“Little girl,” Nina warned, though her voice was more exasperated than angry.

“I'm playing, Mama.” She paused, then added with a smirk, “Mostly.”

Nina shook her head, but her attention drifted back to Jameson and Imani. The couples were starting to part and she watched Imani head up the stairs with a man in tow. She watched Jameson eyes follow her up even though he was pulling another woman closer and laughing. And then she saw Imani turned around. She saw the look on her face and knew it was going to be some shit with those two for the weekend.

Ella asked her softly, sensing that the tense scene in front of them was already over. “So, what’s the plan? We selling our story to TMZ or what? What about This Just In?”

“Ella Dinah Dupree,” Nina said reprimanded her, turning to face her youngest child, “Our job is to focus on EJ and Genie. This is their trip. Let the others figure out their own problems.”

Ella tsked, already typing something on her phone. “Aight but I already told you what I'm gonna do if they squabble up."

#aaron pierre #megan thee stallion #aaron pierre fanfic #megan thee stallion fanfic #aaron pierre x black!oc #megan thee stallion x black!oc #original characters #black ocs #celebrity ocs #celebrity fanfic #fic: neon lights #Spotify

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biblical-chronicles · 2 days ago

Text

Puddles

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where a small Anaïs brings the reader and Noel together.

________________________________________

The winter air bit at your cheeks as you pulled into Noel’s driveway, a little bag in hand containing the pedal he’d left behind at the studio. You could’ve just brought it to the next session, but you figured it’d be easier for him to have it sooner rather than later. Plus, you were in the area, and you also may have had a little bit of a crush on the man.

You knocked on the door, only having to wait a moment before it swung open. Noel stood there, looking about one step away from a mental breakdown, only muttering a quiet “God help me.” under his breath.

You blinked, caught a bit off guard. “Alright, what’s got you so dramatic this time?”

Before he could answer, the shrill voice of a small child echoed from somewhere inside. “NO, DAD, NO!”

You peeked around him and spotted the source of his woes—Anaïs, sitting cross-legged on the floor, clutching a wool hat in her tiny fists like it had personally insulted her.

“She’s supposed to wear the bloody thing ‘cause it’s freezin’ out, but no,” Noel said, throwing his hands up. “Apparently, hats are public enemy number one today. Yesterday they were fine, but not today.”

You couldn’t help but just laugh at his misery at which he just shot you a look of pure betrayal.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” you teased. “This is brilliant. Rock legend Noel Gallagher brought to his knees by a three-year-old and a hat.”

Anaïs, upon hearing your voice, stopped her tantrum and turned. Her eyes lit up when she saw you standing there. “Y/N!” she squealed, abandoning the hat entirely and making a beeline for you, throwing her arms around your leg in a tight embrace.

“Well, hello to you too,” you said, squatting down to her level. “What’s all this fuss about, then? Your dad says you don’t like your hat very much.”

Anaïs pouted, crossing her arms. “It’s itchy, and it’s ugly, and I hate it.”

“Ah, I see.” You tapped your chin, pretending to consider her argument. “But you know, hats are pretty cool. Look, I’m wearing one too.” You tugged at the brim of your own beanie, grinning at her.

Anaïs tilted her head, clearly weighing her options. After a moment, she picked up the discarded hat and held it out to you. “You wear it.” she commanded.

“Alright, deal.” You took the hat, slipping it on and giving her a little twirl for effect. “How do I look?”

Anaïs giggled, clapping her hands. “Good! Really good!”

“Well, there you go,” you said, taking the hat off and handing it back to her. “If it looks good on me, it’ll look even better on you, yeah?”

Anaïs nodded solemnly, as if you’d just delivered the most profound wisdom of her short life. She plopped the hat onto her head, adjusting it until it sat snugly. “I’m ready!”

Noel, who had been watching the whole interaction, just let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Of course. Two minutes with you, and she’s a bloody angel. I try all mornin’, and I’m gettin’ screamed at like I’ve just committed a war crime.”

You just started laughing at him again as Anaïs looked up at you proudly. “See, Dad?” she said, tugging at his sleeve. “We’re wearing the same hat now. How cool is that?”

“Yeah,” Noel deadpanned, “so cool.”

Finally, you remembered the bag in your hand. “Oh, right, I came to drop this off,” you said, holding it out to Noel. “Your pedal. You left it at the studio.”

“You’re a saint,” he said, taking the bag and setting it on a nearby shelf. “Dunno what I’d do without ya.”

Before you could reply, Anaïs grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the door. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Noel followed, grabbing his coat. “Oi, slow down, we’re not in a race.”

But Anaïs suddenly stopped in her tracks, turning to look up at you with big, pleading eyes. “Are you coming with us?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Noel said quickly. “She’s got work and—”

Anaïs cut him off with a firm, “No. I’m not going if she’s not going.”

You glanced between the two of them, biting back a laugh. “Well,” you said, squatting down again to Anaïs’s level, “I suppose I can join you. It’d be my pleasure.”

Anaïs beamed, reaching for your hand again, and Noel just stood there, watching the two of you with a look you couldn’t quite place. Maybe a bit of frustration. Maybe a bit of awe. Maybe a bit of love.

“Alright,” Noel said finally, voice softer than usual. “Let’s go, then.”

The three of you walked down the quiet street, the crisp air turning your breath into little clouds. Anaïs skipped along beside you, her tiny hand clutching yours tightly, while Noel trailed slightly behind, hands shoved in his coat pockets.

“You should come over more,” Anaïs chirped, looking up at you with a toothy grin. “It’s way more fun when you’re here.”

“Yeah?” you asked, glancing down at her. “What makes it so fun, then?”

She tilted her head, thinking for a moment before answering, “You sing better than Dad. And you know all the good songs.”

Noel snorted from behind you. “Oi, I heard that!”

Anaïs giggled, covering her mouth with her free hand. “It’s true!” she whispered loudly, as if he wouldn’t hear.

You couldn’t help but laugh, squeezing her hand. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The walk continued in comfortable chatter, Anaïs alternating between skipping and walking, her energy seemingly endless. Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze fixed on something up ahead.

“What is it?” you asked, following her line of sight.

“It’s a puddle,” she said, pointing to a shallow pool of water on the pavement. She leaned forward, examining it as if it were some rare artifact.

“You like jumping in puddles?” you asked.

Anaïs shook her head. “I never really did that yet.”

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “Never? Oh, we’ve got to change that. Look at your wellies—they’re perfect for it!”

Her eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement. “Really?”

“Really,” you said, taking her hand again and guiding her toward the puddle. “Come on, let’s try it out.”

With a bit of encouragement, Anaïs took her first tentative hop into the puddle, sending a small splash of water out around her boots. She froze for a moment, then burst into giggles.

“Look at you, already an expert” you said, joining her in the puddle. “Now, like this—big jump.” You leapt, sending water spraying around your shoes. Anaïs followed suit, her laughter echoing down the street.

Noel stood off to the side, watching you with admiration, a smile automatically forming on his face.

“Come on, Noel,” you called over to him, grinning. “Have some fun for once!”

“Yeah, Dad!” Anaïs chimed in, hopping up and down. “It’s fun! You have to try!”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking torn. “I dunno… I’m not exactly dressed for this sort of thing.”

“Oh, stop making excuses,” you teased. “You can handle a bit of water, can’t you?”

Anaïs quickly walked over to him, tugging at his hand. “Please, Dad? Just one jump?”

He sighed, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. One jump. Don’t expect me to make a habit of this.”

You and Anaïs cheered as Noel stepped cautiously into the puddle, his boots making a soft splash. He glanced at you both, shaking his head, before taking a half-hearted hop.

“Oh, come on,” you said, laughing. “That was pathetic. Give us a proper jump, Gallagher.”

Anaïs giggled, bouncing on her toes. “Yeah, Dad! Like this!” She leapt into the air, landing with a loud splash that sent water flying.

Not to disappoint her, Noel gave a real jump this time, his landing sending another wave of water outward. You all laughed, the moment surprisingly carefree.

Then Anaïs, perhaps getting a little too enthusiastic, landed with a forceful splash that sent some muddy water flying right onto your face.

You froze, blinking as the cold mud dripped down your cheek. Noel burst out laughing, doubling over as Anaïs clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oops!” she squeaked, eyes wide.

You wiped at your face, trying to suppress your own laughter. “Well,” you said, grinning, “I guess that’s what I get for encouraging you.”

“Sorry,” Anaïs said, but she was giggling too hard to sound sincere.

Noel shook his head, still laughing softly, and reached into his pocket. “Lucky for you, I grabbed some tissues before we left,” he said, pulling a slightly crumpled packet out. He stepped closer, unfolding one and holding it up to your cheek. “Stay still, yeah?”

You blinked as he dabbed at the mud on your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. The closeness caught you off guard and your cheeks warmed as his brow furrowed in concentration.

“There we go,” he muttered, stepping back slightly but still far closer than you’d expected.

Before you could find something to say, Anaïs chimed in excitedly.“kiss! kiss! kiss!”

Both of you froze, eyes wide. “What?” you and Noel said in unison, glancing at each other before turning back to her.

“Please!” Anaïs pleaded, her little hands clasped together. “Just like in the movies!”

Noel’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at you, his lips twitching as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or protest. “She’s got a wild imagination, hasn’t she?” he said, his voice a little tight.

You bit your lip, your own face heating up. “Well,” you said, trying to play it cool, “if the princess requests…”

Noel’s eyes locked with yours, then, as if on some unspoken agreement, he leaned in. The kiss was soft and brief, a tentative brush of lips, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Anaïs erupted into cheers, clapping her hands as she spun in the puddle. “Yay!”

You and Noel broke apart, both of you laughing nervously as your cheeks burned. “Happy now, then?” he asked her, ruffling her hair.

“Very happy!” she declared, beaming up at you both.

Noel turned back to you, his expression shifting to something softer. “As much as I’m not gonna make a habit out of puddle jumpin’,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I’d gladly make a habit out of this.”

Your breath caught, his words hanging in the air between you. You smiled, feeling a bit dazed but undeniably happy. “I’d gladly let you make a habit out of it,” you replied, leaning in to peck him on the lips again.

Anaïs clapped her hands once more, clearly delighted. “Does that mean she’s gonna come over more often?”

Noel chuckled, glancing at her and then back at you. “Yeah,” he said, his voice warm. “Definitely.”

Anaïs cheered, running ahead as you and Noel fell into step beside each other, both of you smiling like fools.

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Right, as promised, here’s the Noel version. Didn’t wanna just nick the Liam fic, so I came up with this for today. Proper cute to write, hope you lot are into it.

And no worries, I didn't forget about all the other requests—day off tomorrow, so I’ll scribble me arse off for ya, swear down xx

#oasis x reader #oasis one shots #oasis band #britpop x f!reader #britpop x reader #britpop fanfiction #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher x you #noel gallagher one shots #noel gallagher fanfiction #noel gallagher #oasis noel gallagher #noel gallagher x y/n #noel gallagher x f!reader

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