#and ofc change any wordings as u please

[dreadwolph]

[ID: a colored digital painting of wyll ravengard, sitting sideways in a grey environment, shadow behind him. he sits on a red piece of clothing, seemingly his robe, now leaving him naked, turning to peer behind him into the darkness. /End ID]

Orestes

[hollow-vok]

Ohh im obssesed

[parfaitblogs]

i NEED a angst fic (with a happy ending ofc) based on tolerate it by taylor swift please 🙏 big chance it’s been done before though and im just the most unoriginal bitch ever

tolerate it ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid gets out of prison, and you baselessly feel like your relationship is growing increasingly one sided.  pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: post prison reid. neglectful bf spencer reid. happy (open) ending. communication yippee. themes of self doubt in reader. mentions of spencer not eating.  word count: 2k a/n: writers block isn't real you just need to watch criminal minds season 12 episode 13 'spencer' and then listen to tolerate it on repeat for three hours straight. iiii know human beings don't talk in long monologued speeches but for the sake of my sanity let us pretend i am shakespeare and spencer reid is my leontes. plzzzz tell me if u liked this or if u didn't yay thank u ily

i sit and watch you. i notice everything you do, or don't do. (lines 3–4)

A fork scrapes against ceramic. It emits a scratching sound that hurts your ears, and you're cringing from your curled up position on the couch as you hear it. Silverware shines beneath the bright, warm glow of his kitchen light, his food barely dented as he pushes it around his plate. 

He's been playing with it since he sat down to eat it. 

You're not too sure what's going through his head as he takes barely there bites of a meal you cooked. You don't think you want to know. But it takes him all of twenty three minutes to come to the same conclusion he made last night, and every other night before that. That he isn't going to eat any more of the food, and just like his fork, his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. 

He wraps the plate in aluminium foil, the crinkling of metal being your only indicator that he has plans to eat it later. At least, that's what you hope. 

When he disappears into the bedroom, you follow him. Like a lovesick puppy, you're trailing after him, and your chest feels hollow with how embarrassing it all is. 

He doesn't know you're watching him, though. 

At least, not to the extent you are. He's field trained enough to know that you're keeping an eye on him, but your silence is only indicative of you giving him the space he so politely asked for three days ago. He's not in his right mind to assume you're silent for any other reason, and you've battled to a loss with the thoughts of letting him into your disaster of a brain. 

He doesn't need to know that.

The ensuite door shuts behind him, and you hear the water turn on minutes later. You take the cue to curl up on your side of the bed, your fingers toying with the paper edges of a book you now had in your lap. The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, for you were rediscovering your love for children's novels amongst this trying time between you and Spencer. 

"Hey, did you buy me more shampoo?"

Your head lifts at the voice, the snowy Narnia world you had built in your brain shattering in an instant, as you're met with the dull colours of Spencer Reid's bedroom, and a showered and dressed Spencer Reid standing only a few feet away. His bedroom hadn't always been dull. Really, nothing had actually changed artistically within it to make it dull. But there's something about no longer laughing in a room once filled with so much love that mutes its vibrance. 

"Yeah," you say, dog-earing the page you were on and slipping it onto the nightstand. "I saw you were running low."

His lips part as he exhales, and you hate that you can tell he's pushing away something snippy. It wasn't that he was actively trying to start fights with you, but his temper has grown short, and he has more anger in his heart than before. 

"You didn't get the right one, that's all."

And though it isn't said rudely, your chest opens up like a black hole regardless, and a thick ball of emotion lodges in your throat.

"I'm sorry," you force past your lips, despising the hollow sound of your sad voice, and the fact that he notices it. His eyebrows frown towards each other at the sound of you, and he takes a step towards the bed.

It's pathetic, right? To be this upset over him letting you know the thing you bought him wasn't correct. In that almost fake sounding soft, kind voice he has when he is trying to keep his unnecessary frustration at bay. 

But it wasn't like this was the first time you'd done something for him in recent, and been told you did it wrong, instead of simply being thanked. Acts of service he was finding problems within no matter what they were, each new critique chipping away at the scales of your self confidence. You don't even think he's meaning to do it.

Every time this happens, memories of the other times flash violently in your head, reminding you that he could not find the beauty of being cared for by you the way he had before this. This, this thing you were barely even able to string the letters of together, because it seemed so foreign and faraway to you. Spencer Reid in prison is not a sentence that makes sense in this — or any other — timeline. You don't think it ever will. And yet.

You'd cooked him meals every single day since he got out. Meals he'd barely ever touch, wrap in foil, then put in the fridge for his work lunch the next day. You don't know if he's even eating them at work, or if he's just taking them there to throw them out. You've been too scared to reach out to any of his team members to ask. Knowledge is power, but knowledge makes his negligence all too real. 

There's a fear in calling it negligence. It isn't fair of you to expect the same man before and after prison, and you know he's dealing with more than you can fathom. You were prepared for distance. 

Just not this much.

The submerged sound of your name tugs you from your thoughts, and suddenly Spencer is closer than he was before, and he's repeating your name over and over in calling. Once you rapidly blink and shake your head, he determines you've returned to Earth, and he's falling silent again. There's concern knitting his eyebrows together, and he's got his hands hovering in the air, as if he's reaching for you, but second guessing himself at the same time. 

"Whats going on in your brain?" he asks you after a few beats of the two of you just staring at each other. 

Like a dam breaking, his question triggers an onslaught of emotions, and every fear and insecurity you've had inside you spills out.

"I feel like you suddenly hate me," your eyes rapidly search the duvet in front of you for your words. "Or—or I annoy you with my presence? Or my care? I mean, I try to do things for you and you barely even spare them a second glance, or thought. You barely talk to me anymore outside of updating me on your schedule. We sleep with miles of distance between us," you gesture to the bed beside you. "I cook you meals you don't eat, I wash your clothes you don't fold. Both of which are things that I'm fine with, because I can't imagine how skewed your appetite is, and I—I know laundry is a trigger now. But there is not even a slight hint of you—you being thankful. You know, appreciative. I feel like I'm following you around like a servant, and I'm doing things with no gratitude in return. I'm doing things I shouldn't have to, because I'm your girlfriend. Not your maid. But they are things that I want to do, because I care for you, and I love you," you pause, a self deprecating smile appearing on your face. "And—and you haven't even told me you love me since the day we got you home. Do you even love me, still? No, don't answer that. I don't think I want to know. I mean, I do. I don't know. God, Spencer, can you say something?"

He doesn't. For a long while, he stares at you, and you train your eyes on the pattern on the bedding you're currently sitting under. His gaze is pulverising, and every second that passes is another limb turning to dust beneath it. His silence should be enough of an answer for you. Yet, you hold onto groundless hope still.

It feels like eternity has passed you by, by the time you hear his voice again.

"I don't mean to make you think I don't love you," he says. "I do love you. Which feels meaningless to confess to you now, knowing how you feel, and I wish my expansive knowledge of words could come up with a confession that does justice to how you feel, but also makes you feel better. I can only hope you take it at face value, and don't assume I'm saying it because it's what you want me to say." 

He finds a seat on the bed in front of you, fingers fidgeting with each other as he fixates on the wooden flooring in front of him. 

"I am grateful for everything you've done for me recently. I'm sorry I haven't expressed that. I'm having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other, let alone stringing together sensical thoughts. I wish I could tell you what my mind sounds like without feeling guilty about it. It isn't nice, and every thought I have is far from positive," he lifts his eyes to you, and you watch in real time as they soften, for the first time since he came home. "I will tell you that there's you. Among every awful thought and feeling I have, there is you. I think I... I think I've been coming across as ungrateful because you are a breath of relief after every bad thought and feeling. Am I making sense?" you nod your head, and he sighs in, namely, relief. "I take a step back from processing my emotions and figuring out how I'm going to talk about them with that bureau therapist when I think about you, because you are the one good thing I have to hold on to. So I just bask in the thought of you, or the sight of you, and focus on nothing else."

You aren't sure when you began to cry, and you only realise it when you have to sniffle before speaking. "You can focus on so many things at once, though." 

"Not anymore," he admits, looking back down. "I don't know what's happened. I've gone from having a brain that works inhumanly — which is objectively an incorrect statement, but I digress — to one that cannot multitask on two separate things at once." 

"Oh," you whisper. "I see."

"I'm so sorry I've made you feel as though your efforts go unnoticed, honey," he murmurs. "They don't. This has just been really difficult."

"I know," you say, wiping your tear stained face with the back of your hand. 

There's a part of you that wants this to be the end of it. The end of self doubt, and distance, and instead the beginning of your relationship rebuilding itself alongside Spencer. 

There's a larger, more logical part of you, that knows you cannot just sweep every self conscious doubt under the rug and move on. 

"I just want some time," you tell him, and his shoulders tense as you speak. "Not to—not to break up. Or even for us to have a break. I don't want that. I've just felt very... unloved. Like you're merely tolerating my presence in your life. And now, I know you aren't. But I have to find my confidence in myself in this relationship again before I can move on."

"Okay," his voice is strained as he speaks, and you know he's not exactly content with your request for space.

You try not to focus on that, in order to stand firm in your decision. 

That is where the conversation ends. And just like every other night, he climbs into bed and leaves a considerable amount of distance between your two bodies. You choose not to dwell on it, because this is now him giving you the space you so politely requested. You were catastrophising, and you'd be damned if you let such a thing control your life any longer. 

It maybe wasn't all in your head, but you still had to take the self doubt shaped dagger from your stomach out.

now i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. (line 30)

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[risibledeer]

JOEL SMALLISHBEANS WEEK AKA OPERATION: SEVEN HOLY NIGHTS OF JEREMY

soo i have gotten the idea for a Joel Smallishbeans week to help spread the propaga-have fun!

it will be the second week of October (date is subject to change) and it's a regular old seven day fan event. anyone can particpate!!

We'll have prompts for each of the days and maybe some other cool stuff as well :)!!

this is an interest check, as although i have gotten quite a bit of it (ty for that btw!!), i wanna know if this is smth many ppl would wanna do :)

Please reblog and share as idk many ppl lol and we need word to be spread of it if we should actually try and make this a proper thing :)

there will be a similar poll in circulation from @daily-smallishbeans

any prompt ideas for the seven days will be helpful, and ty to anyone who already sent in suggestions^^ !!!! Ofc if there's any questions feel free to ask me!! (and go check out daily smallishbeans too!!!)

We are not a cult

(tagging ppl that have already expressed interest in case u guys wanna see this too!)

@ralburry @marsmarbles @hanselsbike @hannnsh @mellozheist @marsmarbles @pancho-pinto @insomnya777 @daily-smallishbeans @kanda-franca @uninad4 @aurnadri @l-just-want-to-see @ulis-here @carbo2006 @tamblerdraws @hydeomonster @whereonhermitcraftisjoel @icyhotheartwritings @sharpilu @falconearring @kyuyua @liekadae @spoonmoment119 @cygnus-rex @witiraisaqueen @icyhotheartwritings

[anticipatedexhale]

Can you do the arcane characters with a s/o who is obsessed with their looks and how they’re perceived to others?

Hellooo <3 ofc I can!!

Just a disclaimer u are absolutely gorgeous and wonderful just the way you are! Inside and out! Don't let fake standards and false words put by society get to you please, love yourself just the way u are because although it's the hardest type of love to achieve it's also the most fulfilling<33

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

Wish I could be like you, but I’m not that cool.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧୨୧

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, viktor, vi, sevika

☆ ◞ summary: when you care too much it starts to backfire on you, when you think you lost everything they are right beside you.

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader, tons of bad talk about ones body and self, insecurities that may be triggering you some so please be careful while reading.

Jayce Talis.

Jayce had always been confident—he knew who he was, what he stood for, and never really cared much about what others thought of him. So when he started noticing how much you worried about your looks and how people perceived you, it caught him off guard.

At first, he thought it was just normal self-care. Everyone liked to look good, right? But then he started picking up on the little things.

The way you’d constantly check your reflection in any shiny surface you passed. The way you’d subtly adjust your outfit over and over, as if trying to perfect it. How you’d bite your lip and glance around nervously when someone so much as whispered near you, convinced it was about you.

And when you two were out together? Forget about it. You agonized over every detail—your hair, your posture, your expressions. Always making sure you were just right.

Jayce hated seeing you stress over it.

One evening, you were getting ready for an event, adjusting your outfit for what felt like the fiftieth time, inspecting yourself in the mirror with a deep frown.

"Does this look okay?" you asked for the third time in ten minutes. "Maybe I should change. Do you think people will—"

Jayce sighed and gently grabbed your hands, pulling you away from the mirror.

“Babe,” he said softly, his brows furrowed in concern. “Why does it matter so much what other people think?”

You hesitated, looking down. “I just… I don’t want to embarrass you. Or myself. People talk, Jayce.”

His expression softened. “I don’t give a damn what people say. And you shouldn’t either.”

You sighed, but he wasn’t done. He cupped your face, tilting it up so you had to look at him.

“You’re already perfect,” he murmured. “I don’t care what you’re wearing, how your hair looks, or what people think. They don’t see what I see.”

You swallowed, throat tight. “…And what do you see?”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Someone incredible. Someone who makes me laugh, who makes me proud every damn day. Someone I’d still be crazy about even if you walked into that party wearing mismatched shoes and a potato sack.”

You let out a startled laugh, rolling your eyes. “A potato sack?”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Yep. You’d still be the best-looking person in the room.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “…You really don’t care?”

“Not one bit,” he promised. “I just want you to be happy. Not stressing over what a bunch of nobodies think.”

His words hit deep. And for the first time in a long time, you actually believed them.

Maybe—just maybe—you didn’t need everyone else’s approval.

Maybe Jayce’s was enough.

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Mel Medarda.

Mel had always been surrounded by high society, where appearances were more than just about beauty—they were about power, influence, and command. She’d been taught from a young age how to control the room with a well-placed smile, a confident stance, and the right attire. But while she had mastered the art of fitting into the expectations of others, she’d never let them control her.

When she first noticed your obsession with your appearance—how you would fret over the smallest detail, constantly worry about what others thought, and always seek validation from the people around you—she didn’t rush to correct you. Instead, she observed, trying to understand why it mattered so much to you.

One evening, you were preparing for another event, this time a gala held by Piltover’s elite. You stood in front of the mirror, your eyes darting between your reflection and the wardrobe full of options, your fingers pulling at your hair, your expression one of deep dissatisfaction.

“Mel,” you said, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. I’m just not—”

She stepped into the room with the effortless grace she was known for, her gaze soft yet intense as she approached you. “You’re just not what?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with concern.

“I don’t know… I feel like I don’t belong here,” you confessed, your hands wringing together. “I keep thinking about what people will say when they see me. What if they don’t think I’m… enough?”

Mel’s brow furrowed as she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, turning you to face her fully. “Let me ask you something,” she began, her tone serious but tender. “Why do you care so much about what they think?”

You looked down, not quite able to meet her eyes. “Because if I don’t look a certain way, if I’m not perfect, I feel like I won’t matter.”

Mel took a deep breath, stepping closer to you, her hands gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at her. Her gaze softened as she studied you for a moment, her fingers brushing the side of your face.

“Sweetheart,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “You are already more than enough. I’ve seen you, not just with your looks, but with your heart, your intelligence, your strength.” She smiled softly. “You think people are only judging you based on how you look, but the truth is, they want to see you. They want to know you—the person who carries themselves with such grace and confidence, the one who makes them wonder how they missed such brilliance.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words sank in.

“I’ve spent so much of my life trying to fit into others' expectations. To be what people wanted me to be,” Mel continued, her eyes locking with yours, unwavering. “But I realized that I will never be happy that way. And neither will you. So stop letting your worth be defined by others. You have everything you need inside of you already.”

You blinked, the warmth of her words washing over you. “But… I still feel like I’m not enough sometimes.”

Mel gently cupped your face, leaning in until her forehead rested against yours. “Then let me remind you every day how much you mean to me. You’re perfect just as you are.”

You swallowed, a smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”

With a soft chuckle, Mel pulled back slightly. “Good. Now let’s go out there, and when they look at you, let them see the amazing person I see.”

And as she helped you get dressed, there was a quiet understanding between you two. Mel never pressured you to be anyone else, but she also knew how to help you realize that you had more power than you gave yourself credit for.

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Viktor.

Viktor’s perspective on beauty had always been one of deep pragmatism. His entire life had been about improving, evolving, and focusing on the mind’s capacity to achieve, while the world outside often seemed obsessed with superficial qualities. He’d never cared much for what others thought of him or how he looked. But when it came to you, it was different.

He’d noticed, more and more, how often you seemed preoccupied with your appearance. You would spend hours before a mirror, adjusting your clothes or making sure every strand of hair was in place, always worried about what others might think. Sometimes, even after all the effort, there was a quiet dissatisfaction in your expression, and it made him wonder how much you truly believed in yourself.

One evening, after a long day of work, Viktor arrived home to find you sitting on the couch, still in your outfit from earlier. Your gaze was fixed on your phone screen, scrolling through images of other people’s lives, comparing your appearance to theirs. Your posture was tense, your brows furrowed in frustration.

Viktor quietly approached, his voice soft yet steady as he spoke your name. “You’re still awake? What’s going on, love?”

You glanced up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just thinking. About how everyone seems to have it all figured out. How they look perfect, and I’m… well, I don’t know.” You trailed off, your gaze dropping back to your phone.

Viktor, noticing the sharp contrast between your usual confident self and the person sitting before him, knelt beside the couch, taking your hand gently in his. His tone was patient, understanding, but there was a certain firmness that made you look up at him.

“Your worth has never been determined by someone else’s perception of you,” he said, his voice quiet but intense. “You’ve spent so much time trying to please others, trying to fit a mold you never asked for. But I need you to understand something, love…”

You looked at him, unsure, waiting for him to continue.

“You are far more than just the sum of your physical appearance or the validation of others,” Viktor continued, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You are a person of substance, of intellect, of heart. And that’s what I fell in love with. Not the way you look, but who you are.”

You swallowed, feeling a lump in your throat. Viktor’s gaze softened as he reached for your hand, gently lifting it to his lips. “And you don’t need to change for anyone. Not for me, not for anyone.”

There was silence between you, broken only by the soft hum of the city outside. His words settled in your chest, easing the tension that had built up over the past few hours.

“I just feel like I’m constantly chasing something I can never achieve,” you admitted quietly. “Trying to be perfect, trying to be what everyone else expects.”

Viktor’s eyes darkened with concern, but he smiled gently. “What if I told you that the most perfect version of yourself is already here? Right now, in this moment? That you are more than enough, as you are?”

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of years of wisdom, of someone who had seen the world through a lens of endless improvement. Slowly, you found yourself leaning into him, feeling the comfort of his embrace and the security of his steady presence.

“I’m still learning, Viktor,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest. “Learning to accept myself.”

“And I’ll be here,” he murmured, his voice warm and unwavering. “Every step of the way. To remind you that you’re perfect, not because of how you look, but because of who you are.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words sink deep into your soul. In that moment, with Viktor by your side, you realized that the person you needed to please the most was yourself. And with him, you finally understood that your worth was never tied to anyone’s expectations—but rather, to the person you were, inside and out.

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Caitlyn kiramman.

Caitlyn was never one to place much value on appearances. Sure, she knew the importance of looking presentable, especially in her position, but she also understood that true beauty went beyond what the eye could see. For Caitlyn, what truly mattered were values, intellect, and integrity. But when she noticed you often fretting over your appearance, constantly adjusting your outfit, and seeking validation from others, it tugged at her heart. She could tell you weren’t feeling your best, but didn’t know how to reach you—until one quiet evening.

After a long day at work, Caitlyn came home to find you in front of the mirror once again, changing clothes, adjusting your makeup, and constantly re-evaluating your reflection. She leaned in the doorway for a moment, watching you with a concerned expression.

You didn’t even notice her at first, your mind lost in the whirlwind of doubts that always seemed to surface when you weren’t in her company. “I don’t know, Cait. What if I’m not enough?” you muttered under your breath, pulling at the collar of your shirt as if it could make you feel better. “What if they don’t think I’m… beautiful enough?”

Caitlyn stepped into the room quietly, her voice gentle but firm. “Why do you think that?”

You jumped, not expecting her to be standing so close. “Oh… I didn’t hear you.” You gave a weak smile, clearly still upset.

“Babe, what’s going on? You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said softly, her eyes meeting yours. She stepped closer and reached for your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “What are you looking for?”

You hesitated, glancing at your reflection before turning to face her. “I just… I feel like people judge me all the time. What if they don’t like how I look? What if I’m too much for them? Or not enough?”

Caitlyn’s expression softened with a mix of empathy and concern. She could feel how deeply you were struggling, and though she didn’t share your worries about appearances, she understood the burden of those feelings. She gently cupped your face in her hands, tilting your chin so your eyes met hers.

“Look at me,” she said, her voice low but confident. “You are enough. Right now, in this moment, you’re more than enough.”

You blinked, her words striking a chord deep inside. “But what if people think I’m…”

She cut you off gently. “You are beautiful, but more than that, you’re incredible. You make a difference. You’re kind, intelligent, and strong. No outfit or hairstyle is going to change that.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as her words began to sink in. “But what if I’m not… what people expect?”

Caitlyn smiled, her hands gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You don’t need to live up to anyone’s expectations but your own. I fell in love with you for who you are, not because of how you look. And I’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now, just by being yourself.”

Her sincerity made your heart swell, and despite your lingering doubts, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Caitlyn didn’t care about the opinions of others; she cared about you—and that was all that mattered.

“I guess I’ve been so focused on trying to be perfect that I forgot how to just be me,” you admitted softly.

Caitlyn chuckled, her thumbs gently rubbing circles on your cheeks. “And I’ll remind you every day that you don’t need to be perfect for anyone. You’re perfect for me.”

You leaned into her touch, a sense of comfort settling in your chest. “Thank you, Cait. I really needed to hear that.”

She smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Anytime. And just so you know, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out. You don’t have to change a thing.”

In that moment, you realized that your true beauty didn’t lie in how others saw you, but in how Caitlyn saw you—and how you saw yourself when you let go of the expectations that had once held you back.

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

Vi.

Vi had always been more about strength and character than appearances. She had a no-nonsense attitude and didn’t care much for superficial things. Whether in a fight or just hanging out, she preferred to focus on what truly mattered—what was inside a person. So when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, constantly tweaking your outfit or worrying about how others perceived you, it threw her off. She couldn’t quite understand why you’d feel like you weren’t enough when to her, you were already perfect just as you were.

One evening, after a particularly tough day, Vi returned home to find you sitting on the couch, eyes glued to your phone, flipping through social media. You’d been quiet all evening, and she could tell something was bothering you. As she approached, she noticed you adjusting your outfit for the fourth time, pulling at the hem of your shirt, checking the mirror again.

Vi raised an eyebrow, concern flashing across her face. “You good, babe? You seem a little… distracted.”

You didn’t look up, still preoccupied with your reflection. “I don’t know. I just feel like people always judge me. I mean, look at them, Vi,” you said, showing her your phone screen, where a bunch of influencers and well-dressed people filled the screen. “Why can’t I look like that? I don’t know… I just feel like I’m never enough, no matter what I do.”

Vi looked at the screen for a moment before setting it down gently, stepping closer to you. “Hey, look at me,” she said, her voice a little more serious now. “I don’t get it. You’ve got all this beauty inside and out, and you’re worried about some picture on a screen?”

You gave a little laugh, but it was hollow. “It’s not just a picture, Vi. People always notice what I wear, what I look like. I feel like I’m always trying to fit into something I’m not.”

Vi tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with that intense, protective gaze of hers. “You don’t need to fit into any mold, babe. You’re not some... trend to follow. You’re you. And trust me, that’s more than enough.”

You looked away, unsure. "But people don't see that. They only care about the surface."

Vi sighed, her expression softening as she sat next to you. She took your hand in hers, her grip strong but comforting. "You know what I see when I look at you? I see a person who's been through a lot, someone who doesn't need to put on a mask to be loved. Someone who's real. And that's what makes you so amazing. I don't give a damn about what anyone else thinks. And I know you don't need to change for anyone."

You let out a breath, trying to hold back the feelings bubbling up inside. Vi, with her blunt honesty and genuine affection, had a way of cutting through the noise, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe you weren’t as lost as you thought.

Vi leaned in, resting her forehead against yours. “You know I love you for exactly who you are, right? And if you’re worried about how others see you, then maybe you should let them see the real you. Because that’s who I love. The real you. Not some version of you trying to impress everyone else.”

You could feel her words sinking in, easing the pressure you hadn’t even realized had been building. You felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you as Vi’s embrace tightened, holding you close.

"I know I'm tough and rough around the edges," she whispered, a playful smile tugging at her lips, "but you don’t need to be anything other than what makes you happy. And if that means wearing your favorite old shirt or going makeup-free, I’m still gonna think you’re the best thing in the world."

A small laugh escaped your lips, and you found yourself relaxing into her warmth. “Thanks, Vi. I needed that.”

Vi grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Anytime, babe. Just remember: you’re perfect to me, just the way you are.”

In that moment, surrounded by her love and honesty, you realized that the only opinion that truly mattered was the one that came from within—and with Vi, you were finally starting to believe it.

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

Jinx.

Jinx was many things—chaotic, unpredictable, and loud—but when it came to you, she was surprisingly sensitive. Her world had always been in a constant state of madness, but there was something calming about being with you. You were her rock, her one constant in the storm. That’s why it bothered her so much when she noticed you obsessing over how you looked, always fidgeting with your clothes, your hair, or your makeup, constantly worried about how others saw you.

One evening, after a particularly wild day of mayhem (courtesy of Jinx, of course), you sat on the couch, staring at your phone screen. Your brows were furrowed, your thumb scrolling through social media, comparing yourself to others. Jinx had been watching you for a while, and it was starting to get under her skin.

"Hey, you!" she suddenly called out, practically throwing herself onto the couch next to you, her usual enthusiasm filling the room.

You jumped a little, distracted. “Oh, hey, Jinx. What’s up?” You didn’t look up from your phone, still fixated on the images that seemed to be making you feel worse with every swipe.

Jinx tilted her head, studying your face closely. Her blue hair bounced as she moved, and her expression softened just a little. “You’ve been like this for a while now,” she said, a hint of concern lacing her voice. “Why do you keep looking at that stuff?”

You sighed, showing her your phone. “I don’t know. I just feel like I’m always trying to keep up with everyone else, you know? They always look so… perfect. I feel like I don’t measure up.”

Jinx blinked, her usual manic energy quieting for a moment as she processed your words. "What do you mean, perfect?" she asked, her voice almost childlike in its confusion. “Perfect’s boring, though! I mean, sure, it’s fun to be perfectly insane, but... you’re way cooler than perfect! Who needs to be that?”

You looked at her, a little unsure. “I just… I don’t know, Jinx. I feel like I’m always trying to be someone I’m not, trying to look like everyone else. But nothing ever feels good enough.”

Jinx leaned back dramatically, her arms spread wide. “You wanna know something? I don’t think you need to look like anyone else, ever!” she said, her eyes wide and full of her usual chaotic energy. “You’re already amazing the way you are, and I don’t get why you keep looking at that stuff. I mean, look at me—no one can look like me and that’s what makes me awesome! So you just need to be you, okay?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her randomness, even as a weight still sat heavy in your chest. Jinx smiled brightly, completely oblivious to the way her words were beginning to work their magic. “I know you think you gotta be something you’re not, but I love you just as you are. You’re like… the best thing ever! You don’t need to change anything to impress anyone, especially not me.”

She leaned forward then, her hands clasping yours tightly. Her wild eyes softened as she looked at you with an intensity that was rare for her. “I love you, okay? You—with all the stuff you think isn’t perfect. I don’t need a perfect you. I need you, the one with all the quirks and the weird little things that make you you!”

You blinked, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at her words. Jinx had a way of making things seem so much lighter, her chaotic nature always breaking through the heaviness of your own doubts. Her laugh was like music, and the more she spoke, the more you felt the pressure you had been putting on yourself start to lift.

“Jinx,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. “Thank you. I think I just needed to hear it from you. I’ve been so focused on trying to change, I forgot what made me… me.”

“Exactly!” Jinx exclaimed, throwing her hands up like she had just made the greatest revelation in the world. “Just be you, and if anyone else doesn’t get it, then they’re the ones who are messed up! You’re freaking awesome, and I’m lucky to have you.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you with surprising gentleness. "Don’t ever try to be anything other than you again, okay?" she whispered into your ear. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

You rested your head on her shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort in the chaos that only Jinx could provide. With her by your side, maybe, just maybe, you could start to let go of the expectations that others had placed on you—and just embrace the person you were.

And with that, Jinx’s chaotic energy became the balm you didn’t know you needed, reminding you that in this world of uncertainty, the most important thing was being true to yourself.

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

Ekko.

Ekko had always been a little different. The way he saw the world wasn’t about appearances or surface-level stuff—it was about people, their hearts, and their actions. It wasn’t lost on him that you seemed to care a lot about how others perceived you, constantly stressing over what to wear, how to look, or whether you were keeping up with the trends. At first, he didn’t really understand it. Why would you care what other people thought when you were already so incredible in his eyes?

One evening, after working on his latest invention in the workshop, Ekko was looking forward to spending some quiet time with you. He’d been busy with the repairs and inventions for the underground, but when he finally entered the room, he immediately noticed something different about you. You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine, occasionally staring at the mirror, then back at the pages. The quiet tension in the air told him something was off.

He walked up to you and gently sat down next to you. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. "You seem… distracted."

You looked up, surprised to see him. You hadn’t realized you were being so obvious about your self-doubt. "Oh, I’m fine," you lied, trying to smile. "Just… you know, trying to figure out what to wear tomorrow. Something that’ll make me look good enough for the crowd, y’know?"

Ekko frowned slightly. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the way your fingers were nervously flipping through pages. He didn’t need to be a genius to see that something was bothering you.

He leaned back against the couch, giving you a moment to breathe before speaking up again. “What crowd? I thought you were more about being yourself, not some image you’ve got to keep up with.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, well… sometimes it’s hard. I mean, look at everyone else, Ekko. They’re all perfect—well-dressed, confident, always looking like they’ve got it all figured out. I just… I don’t know. I want to feel good about myself, but it feels like I’m always falling short.”

Ekko let out a small sigh. He had seen you struggle with this before, but hearing it out loud always tugged at his heart. He knew what it was like to feel like you didn’t measure up, especially in a world that made it easy to compare yourself to everyone around you. But to him, you were already more than enough.

"You don’t need to be like anyone else, you know that, right?" Ekko said, his voice calm yet serious. "I get it, everyone around here seems to care about appearances or ‘keeping up with the Joneses,’ but that’s not what makes someone special. You’re already incredible. The real you—not some idealized version of yourself—is what I love."

He took your hand, gently guiding you to face him. "It’s not about looking like someone else. It’s about being you. And when you’re you, that’s when you shine the brightest. You’re unique, and that’s what makes you stand out. Not some perfect look or what other people think."

You felt a lump form in your throat, his words piercing through the insecurities that had been building inside. Ekko was always so patient with you, always grounding you when the chaos of the world started to feel too heavy. His belief in you, in who you were as a person, was unwavering.

"Ekko, I’m just so used to trying to fit in," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like everyone expects me to be perfect, to look a certain way."

Ekko shook his head, his hand moving to brush your hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and tender. "You don’t need to fit into anyone’s box. You fit into mine, and that’s all that matters. You’ve got something they don’t—your heart, your mind, your creativity. You’ve always had it, and I see it every single day."

He stood up, giving you a playful grin. "You know what’s really cool about you? You can pull off anything—whether it’s a fancy outfit or a worn-out hoodie. You make it look good because it’s you. And honestly, that’s way more impressive than anything I’ve ever seen."

You couldn’t help but laugh, a little of the weight lifting off your shoulders as you finally met his eyes. “You really think that?”

Ekko nodded, his eyes full of sincerity. "More than anything. I’m proud of you, just the way you are. You don’t need anyone’s approval, especially not when you’ve already got mine."

You stood up to face him, feeling the warmth of his words sink in. There was no need to change for the world. You had Ekko, and that was more than enough to make you feel seen and loved.

"I love you, you know that?" you whispered.

Ekko grinned, his eyes lighting up as he pulled you into a hug. "I love you too, more than you’ll ever know."

In his arms, you felt safe—safe to be yourself, flaws and all. Maybe it wasn’t about perfection after all. Maybe it was about finding the people who truly saw you, the real you, and loving you for exactly who you were.

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

Sevika.

The quiet buzz of the dimly lit workshop was disrupted by a small, sudden sigh. Sevika paused, her fingers lightly gripping the wrench she was working with as she looked over at you. You were at the far corner of the room, your attention focused on the full-length mirror. Your gaze was distant, eyes scanning every inch of yourself, your expression more tense than usual.

She could see the way your shoulders tensed, the slight frown on your lips, and she knew that look all too well. It was the look of someone caught in the trap of self-doubt, obsessing over things that didn't truly matter. Sevika, who always carried herself with quiet confidence, couldn't help but notice how much you seemed to care about things that didn’t define your worth—things like appearance, status, and the opinions of others.

Without saying a word, Sevika set her tools down and walked toward you, her large frame cutting through the space with the same assured steps she always had. There was something about your current mood that tugged at her, an instinct to take care of you when she saw you struggling.

She came up behind you, leaning her back against the wall and crossing her arms, just watching. There was no rush to intervene. Sevika had learned that sometimes, you needed time to process things on your own before anyone could help.

After a moment, you spoke without turning to face her. "Do you think they’d like me more if I looked different? I mean… everyone seems to have something special about them. What if I’m just… not good enough?"

The words hung in the air, fragile and raw. Sevika stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Hey," she said, her hand resting on your shoulder, urging you to meet her eyes. "You’re not ‘just’ anything. And you’re not here to be ‘liked’ by anyone else but yourself."

You swallowed, still unable to fully meet her gaze. "I don’t know, Sevika. I just—sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, I can’t live up to… to what they expect, to what everyone else has. I don’t know how to be comfortable with myself."

Sevika’s eyes softened, her hand gently turning your chin so that you finally faced her. "You don’t need to worry about them. You don’t need to worry about being perfect, because there’s no such thing. No one is perfect—not even the ones who pretend they are."

Her voice was steady, filled with that unwavering confidence that made her so impossible to ignore. "You’re one of the strongest people I know, and that’s not something that comes from looking a certain way. It comes from what you’ve been through, how you keep going despite everything. That’s what I admire about you. Not how you look, but the person you are."

Your breath caught, the frustration in your chest softening with her words. For a moment, you let yourself believe her, feeling the weight of your insecurities ease just a little.

"I think you forget sometimes that people who truly care about you… the ones who matter, don’t give a damn about your looks," Sevika continued, her thumb lightly tracing your cheek, her touch gentle yet powerful. "You think I’m here because you’ve got the perfect image? Nah. I’m here because you’ve got heart. You’ve always had it."

A rare, soft smile tugged at her lips as she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a near whisper. "And you think I’d let someone like you get away with being anything less than amazing?"

You chuckled softly, the tension melting away at the sincerity in her words. Sevika’s tough exterior had always been there, but in moments like this, she allowed her softer side to show, especially when it came to you. You could see in her eyes that she didn’t just mean what she was saying—she believed it wholeheartedly.

"Sevika, I—"

She cut you off, her finger lightly tapping your lips. "No more self-doubt. No more comparisons. You’re incredible. Just as you are."

For once, the mirror didn’t seem so important. It wasn’t about how others saw you, but how you saw yourself through her eyes. Sevika may not always say a lot, but in moments like this, her actions spoke volumes. You let yourself lean into her touch, the assurance in her presence becoming your anchor.

She leaned in close, her voice softer now, just for you. "Now, let’s forget about everyone else for a while, yeah? Tonight’s about you, about us. You don’t need to impress anyone but yourself."

And as you let her embrace you, a weight lifted, one you hadn’t even realized you were carrying.

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

Authors note: I really do apologize if this isn't to ur liking my darling or it feels repetitive I just really could not come up with different scenarios dear God I was about to crash out..

[azzifuddslover]

༯ OFF THE COURT — CHAPTER TWO 𝜗𝜚

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

themes: angst, jealousy

tw: swearing (i think that’s all?)

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i had fun with this chapter! excited to continue writing 😋 i had to ofc add the lil dijonai & lyss foul haha. also if u have any one shot suggestions please please lemme know! enjoy

“oh my goodness, hi!” nika pulled each one of the freshmen into a warm embrace. “we’re so excited to have you guys here!”

we? paige thought to herself, that she didn’t dare speak out loud.

“we’re excited to be here!” caroline smiled at the three older girls, as aubrey and azzi hugged.

paige purposefully put distant between herself and the curly headed brunette, not wanting to start arguments her first day.

“so, where do you guys wanna see next?” aubrey questioned, while paige remained silent, keeping to herself.

“you tell us,” ashlynn said, excitedly.

“alright,” nika slung her arm around paige’s shoulder, “let’s go show you the dorms then.”

as the seven girls made their way to the dorm rooms, azzi walked behind aubrey who led the way, while nika and paige placed themselves in the back.

“you good, p?” nika whispered, “it’s unlike you to be this quiet.”

paige plastered a smile on her face, “all good, nik.”

“no, seriously, what’s up?”

“i’m fine, really. just tired,” she reassured her close friend, gently squeezing her shoulder.

minutes later the girls arrived at the dorms when nika spoke up.

“i think it’s best to divide into groups so we can still get lunch. aubrey, show caroline and yanna your room, paige show azzi yours and i’ll show ash mine.”

of course nika would place azzi with paige. alone.

“um, i’ll take ashlynn,” paige suggested, but it was too late. ashlynn was already off with nika, aubrey was leading carol and yanna to her dorm.

azzi stood awkwardly in the hallway, eyes focused on the floor, as paige glanced once at her before taking off to her room.

“cmon,” she muttered, passing azzi.

azzi was hesitant to follow, but she did regardless, keeping her head low while nerves twisted in her stomach. azzi couldn’t remember the last time she was alone with paige, if ever. the pair have clearly never gotten along, so she was nervous to see where this would go.

paige opened the door to her dorm, that she shared with another teammate, dorka, who happened to be laying in her bed.

“hey dorka,” paige said, announcing her presence along with azzi’s.

“hey p,” dorka looked at her, then at the freshmen, “who’s this?”

“one of the new freshmen, azzi.”

dorka smiled at azzi in a reassuring manner, then pulled her in for a quick hug. “welcome to uconn, azzi!”

azzi gently hugged the older girl back, feeling less nervous with dorka being there. “happy to be here.”

“you’re going to love it. i’m a transfer, and its absolutely amazing. the girls are all so great, geno can be a bit tough, but he means well,” dorka explained.

azzi was genuinely excited for her start at university of connecticut. she’s always kept uconn as an option for her future school, and finally was able to commit just a few weeks ago. she figured it’d be the best fit for her, despite paige being here.

“well, i told lou i’d meet her in the dining hall, so i’ll catch y’all later,” dorka said, grabbing her bag and phone before quickly leaving.

the silent in the small dorm was haunting. paige’s eyes were focused on her phone, while azzi motionlessly stood against the wall, waiting for any sort of conversation.

“so, do you like it here so far?” paige asked, finally breaking the silence.

azzi looked over at paige, “it’s nice, yeah. the girls seem nice.”

“that’s good,” paige replied.

“are you excited to meet-“

“you don’t have to make small talk, paige. we both know you aren’t happy with me committing here,” azzi bite out.

paige scolded her eyes, “you’re right. i’m not happy with you being here. but i can’t change it, can i?”

“nope, you can’t. let’s just ignore each other like we’ve always have.”

secretly, paige didn’t want to ignore azzi. she couldn’t. but she pretended to did it anyway.

“fine by me,” paige shouted, walking towards the door.

“where are you going? this is literally your room!”

“anywhere else but here, with you. go catch up with nika or something,” paige muttered as she left, leaving azzi staring at the door.

it was the first day of practice with the new additions to the uconn team, and paige successfully avoided azzi at all costs. whenever the team got together, they’d always converse with other players, never daring to look each other’s way.

paige brought the basketball up the court during a 5v5 match. she directed the players on her team to her liking, then passed it to lou who made the open 3 shot. aubrey secured the rebound, threw it off to azzi, who began to bring it to the opposing net. paige, of course, was right on her heels, defending her. azzi noticed the blonde from the corner of her eye, looking unbothered as ever.

reaching the 3 point line with paige right there, azzi considers all the potential lanes to the basket. when nika, part of the opposing team, goes to defend aubrey, azzi sprints through an open lane, going for the layup.

paige was quick to notice her plan, though. she blocked the ball from entering the basket, hitting azzi in the process. it was an obvious foul.

“hey, that’s a foul!” azzi shouted.

paige, who’s grinning to herself, adverted her eyes to the brunette. “no it wasn’t, it was clean.”

“bullshit!”

“you’re just mad you can’t make a shot on me,” paige replied.

“please. like i haven’t done it before!” azzi exclaimed loud enough for heads to turn.

“ladies!” coach auriemma interrupted their argument, “make sure to stay after practice.”

for goodness sake, paige thought to herself.

“this is all your fault,” paige whispered, loud enough for only azzi could hear.

azzi simply rolled her eyes at paige’s remark. she wasn’t going to let the older girl distract her further; she’s already done it enough.

practice quickly came to a close; azzi managed to put distance between herself and paige, not wanting to cause any more trouble than she already had.

each one of the basketball players made their way out of the gym, while azzi and paige anxiously remained, waiting for coach.

his office door opened, “come on in.”

paige took the left chair as azzi took the right, both not saying a word. coach auriemma looked pissed.

“your behaviors is unacceptable. if you both want to help this team succeed, we’ll all need to get along, including you two. especially you guys. you both are two of the best players we have, and i’m going to need y’all to quit it with the bickering and focus on the game. am i clear?”

“yes, coach,” paige and azzi say in unison.

“alright then. with that being said, go out to eat with one another. get to know each other. i don’t know what caused your disliking of each other, but it’s got to change immediately,” geno auriemma instructed the girls.

paige’s eyes widen as azzi shifted uncomfortably in her seat, clearly not pleased with his suggestion. but azzi was new, and she only wanted to please her coach.

“that sounds fine by me,” azzi said, despite her brain saying she’d rather do anything else.

paige stole a glance at the younger girl, before also agreeing.

“good. when tomorrow comes around, i better not hear any arguments. and if i do, the pair of you will face further consequences. am i understood?”

paige nodded her head rapidly, “yes coach.”

“so, where do you wanna go?” azzi questioned the blonde after exiting coach auriemma’s office.

paige rolled her eyes, “we aren’t actually going anywhere together. if you thought that, you’re crazy.”

azzi couldn’t help but be slightly shocked that paige would lie to their coach. “paige, i’m not getting into more trouble just because of you. look, i don’t want to go anywhere with you either, but we have no choice. let’s just get it over with.”

paige absorbed azzi’s words, carefully considering them. “alright, fine,” she sighed, “where too?”

“do you like chick fa la?”

“uh, yeah. who doesn’t? that’s like asking if i breath air.”

after a silent car ride with paige driving and azzi being the passenger princess, the two ordered their meals and sat in an open booth, facing one another.

paige continued not to look azzi in the eye. azzi, however, was harshly glaring at the older girl. “are you going to ignore me forever or actually acknowledge we’re teammates?”

paige finally locked gazes with azzi, “i was planning to ignore you forever.”

azzi couldn’t help but softly chuckle, “of course you were.”

paige lips rose at the sight of azzi’s breathtaking smile, “you make it impossible, though.”

“oh, really? it seems you’ve been doing it pretty damn well for as long as i’ve known you.”

paige didn’t dare to tell her that ignoring azzi is the hardest thing someone could do. it wasn’t just her skills on the court, that could make anyone, including paige, second-guess their game. it was the way azzi carried herself, making everything she did seem effortless, even when it wasn’t. her silent confidence and her ability to make everyone feel included even in a busy crowd. paige hated how much she admired the young girl from afar; how looking at azzi made her forget about everything and everyone around her. it was impossible to ignore a girl like azzi.

instead, paige settled on, “you’re just a pretty good player. i always notice good players.”

after swallowing a bite of a chicken nugget, azzi leaned her elbows on the table, a small smirk lingering on her face. “so now you admit to me being good?”

paige couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her comment regarding USA basketball days. “whatever, whatever.”

azzi laughed to herself, and continued to enjoy her meal, while paige also focused on eating rather than the conversation.

azzi and paige eventually relaxed to each other’s presence, feeling more comfortable than before. they discussed the challenging classes they were taking and geno’s firm coaching methods; the girls began to somewhat enjoy each others company, when a boy around their age walked up to their table.

paige and azzi both looked up at the man, who was directly eyeing the brunette. azzi’s cheeks reddened at the sudden attention.

“can we help you?” paige asked, making the man turn to look at her.

“yeah, uh, i was wondering if i could get your number? you’re, like, really pretty,” the man said to azzi.

her cheeks were basically inflamed at this point, “uh,” she tried to think of the words, “sure, i guess?”

paige scoffed at azzi’s interaction with this random guy. they were finally talking and she had to ruin it. paige clenched her fists and suddenly rose from the table, causing the man and azzi to look at her.

“i’m going to the car,” paige announced, taking off before azzi could get another word out.

after paige’s exit, the boy looked helplessly at azzi, beaming regardless of paige’s reaction. he was pretty cute, but azzi didn’t have the time to focus on anything but basketball and her classes.

“i’m kameron, by the way,” he said.

“i’m azzi, but i gotta go, sorry,” azzi replied, trying to hurry out of there as soon as possible.

“wait, your number—“ but azzi was already out the door.

azzi climbed into the passenger seat, immediately aware that this ride will be even more awkward than the one they previously had.

paige’s grip on the steering wheel caused her knuckles to turn white. when azzi noticed, she softly asked, “are you okay?”

“are you kidding me, azzi? we were finally getting along and you had to ruin it by giving some dude attention. what the actual fuck?”

“it wasn’t my fault he came up to me!” azzi shouted at paige.

“you could’ve said no! but instead you agreed right in front of me!”

azzi gaped at paige, “why do you care who asks me for my number?”

“i don’t!” paige answered defensively, although it was a complete lie.

“what are you, jealous?”

paige’s cheeks tinted at her comment, “don’t be silly, azzi.” she turned on the car and began driving down the road.

arriving back on campus, paige instantly took off without as much as a glance at azzi. after their short argument in the car, paige blasted music to avoid further comments from azzi.

azzi scrolled into her dorm that she shared with caroline, letting out an aggravated sigh.

“you good, girl?” carol asked azzi, with her eyebrows drawn together.

“yeah. coach auriemma made me and paige go out to eat, trying to make us get to know one another. complete bullshit, if you ask me.”

“why don’t y’all like each other, anyway?” carol questioned her friend.

“i don’t know! i have no idea what i did to her. she’s hated me ever since USA basketball,” azzi complained.

caroline looked around in confusion. “wait, so what went down when you guys were out?”

“we were actually talking, without arguing, and a guy came up, asking for my number. paige just got up and left. then in the car, she got all pissing and screamed how i said yes ‘right in front of her,’” azzi made quotations with her fingers.

caroline laughed at azzi’s explanation. “what?” azzi smiled.

“she was jealous!”

although azzi accused paige of being jealous earlier, she didn’t exactly believe it to be true. how could paige be jealous of someone hitting on azzi? she hated her.

“no, trust me, she wasn’t. she was just upset for some reason.”

“oh my god, she’s totally in love with you or something,” carol suggested as azzi turned pink.

“caroline, she’s not. she’s constantly avoiding me and is always mean. does that really should like her liking me?”

carol held out her hands like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “um, yes!”

azzi couldn’t comprehend how caroline got the impression that paige was in love with her. that was beyond crazy. paige’s hatred for azzi has been going strong ever since USA basketball tryouts. there was just no way.

practice the next day was going smoothly; paige and azzi didn’t interact much, like the usual, which didn’t cause geno to enable further consequences for the young girls. azzi was showing off her 3 point shooting skills, while paige continued to be an assist machine.

it was time for another 5v5, and of course paige and azzi were on opposing teams. azzi drained 3 after 3, getting impressive looks from her teammates as well as the two coaches.

a long rebound ended up near the 3 point line, to which azzi managed to secure it. however, she didn’t see the older blonde who was also going for the rebound right behind her. paige crashed into azzi, knocking her to the floor face first. paige maintained her standing position, with each one of her legs around azzi’s torso.

without thinking, paige reached down to place both hands on azzi’s hips, gently pulling her up. azzi’s ass was flush against paige’s front, sending unwelcome feelings throughout the blonde’s body.

there’s a brief moment of awkward silence, azzi still slightly disoriented from the fall. paige’s hands lingered on azzi’s hips a second too long, not that azzi made any hint to move them. she can feel the older girls hands on her body, steady and warm, making her heart skip a beat in her chest.

“you good?” paige whispered, practically in the curly brunette’s ear, given the distance between the girls.

“yeah, thanks,” azzi replied breathlessly, trying desperately to hide the flush creeping up her neck.

after noticing her lingering hands on the hips of azzi, paige removes them acting as calm as possible. paige notices a shift in tone and smirks, teasing the younger girl, “didn’t think i hit you that hard.”

azzi responds with a snark of her own, “i’m not fragile, you know,” attempting to look tougher than she truly is.

paige’s smirk widens as she allows her eyes to take in the sight of azzi. messy bun, leg sleeve, practice jersey slightly ruffled. she looked good.

“like what you see?” azzi commented on paige’s wandering eyes.

embarrassed, paige looks away, “you wish.”

azzi softly chuckles as the freshmen makes her way over to caroline and yanna, ready to continue the 5v5.

in a dais, paige stands motionless in the spot of her and azzi’s interaction, silently wishing she could have one more excuse to talk to her.

but the older girl didn’t, so she walked back into position, ready for the next play to come.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

everything abt ur work is so so soooo good!!! do u think if u have the time u could write smth abt chan making the reader squirt? hehe n ofc w the daddy kink too

anyways i love u have a great day!!

does it feel like a big one?

pairing: daddy!chan x princess!reader

genre: smut

word count: 2ss and ~1k words

warnings: daddy kink, pet names, squirting, fingering, toys, praise, edging, i changed the word ‘potty’ to ‘pee’ since some of yall can’t handle the word ‘potty’ im tired of being attacked for it

an: god i’m so fucking feral. idek if this is any good. i wrote it in a needy haze, i blacked out. idk what happened. anon, thanks for your request. loving you. ♡

masterlist

‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼

and that’s how you ended up here.

it had started off slow, your gentle daddy rubbing his hands against your skin, his fingertips ghosting over every inch of your naked body. he teased a little. his fingers would glide over your mound but only for a second, before they were traveling back up your tummy. he would circle his fingers around your bare nipples, squeezing your breasts softly in his palms.

he kissed your lips, smiling against them, before kissing down to your chest. his kisses feather light as he moved farther down. you thought he may put his mouth on your most sensitive area. you hoped he would. but it was just more faint kisses. more teasing.

“why are you so squirmy, baby? huh?”

you couldn’t keep your legs still, couldn’t keep your hips still. your body was in search of him. in need of him. you whined.

“nuh uh. no whining, remember?” he gently scolded. “daddy is just getting started.”

he spread your legs and knelt on the mattress between them. you were fully open for him and you were wet. he could see it, and you could feel it. the air in the room feeling suddenly cold on your sensitive lips.

he ran his fingertips along your thighs, up between your legs, ghosting over your damp sex, until he finally touched you. a real touch. with his index finger, he rubbed soft circles against your clit. he watched as your body reacted, your legs trying to clamp shut around his arm, but he held them in place.

“so sensitive, princess.” he breathed. “that’s good. that’s what we want for this.”

his fingers traveled down and dipped ever so slightly in your pool of arousal, but he didn’t penetrate. the feeling still sent shivers over your whole body.

“you are so beautiful.” he said, leaning down to kiss your tummy. he couldn’t help himself. he wanted to kiss you all over. wanted to shove his tongue inside you. but he had to wait. he had to be patient.

he leaned over you and grabbed the toy off the nightstand. it was just a little vibrating wand. you hummed in anticipation. “mm your eyes got wide at this, baby.” he said, clicking the device on, a quiet buzzing filling your ears. “you want this?”

you nodded, frantically. but that wasn’t enough. “words baby.”

“please, daddy. i want it. please.”

your begging went straight to his cock. your high pitched, watery pleas for him to give you what you want made him ache.

he pressed the toy against you clit for a second before pulling it away. your body convulsed. he pressed it to you again, only for a second. he did this a few times before finally leaving it against you, letting it do its work. it didn’t take long for you to reach the edge.

“don’t you dare cum, baby.” he warned. “you tell daddy when you’re close.”

“i’m close! i’m close!” you immediately yelled. and he pulled his hand away. he gave you a moment to relax, running the vibrator up your tummy and around your nipples before eventually bringing it back to your puffy little clit.

he held it there again, and after a minute or two, you were warning him again of your impending orgasm. he brought you to the edge 3 or 4 times before he slowly slipped his fingers inside your drippy hole.

you babbled incoherently as he slid 2 fingers inside you, curling them up to touch your favorite spot. “i think you’re ready, princess.”

his fingers felt so good, you were finally getting some stimulation. your body was so on edge. you felt so.. full. but not in the way you were used to. you felt full in a way that needed release. he started to slide his fingers in and out, gradually getting faster. he brought the vibrator back to your clit as he continued to finger you.

“oh my god..” you whined. “fuck..”

“careful with your language baby.” he warned. “it just feels so good, huh?”

you nodded, your fists gripping the sheets, your eyes squeezed shut as your head turned back and forth. he could feel you clamping down on his fingers, making it hard for him to move them.

“are you gonna cum baby?” he asked. “does it feel like a big one?”

“mhm.” you said. “it.. it feels like i need to pee.”

“that’s okay, angel. you just relax and let it go, okay? can you do that for me?” his fingers pumped in and out of you, your clit was almost numb from the constant vibration, and wet squelching sounds filled the room. “you can do it baby. cum for daddy.”

as you started to moan louder and louder, your body shaking, liquid started to pool around his fingers. he pulled them out quickly, leaving the vibrator on your clit. your release squirted out, coating the bed and his chest and arms in creamy little droplets.

“fuck.” he panted. “there you go, baby. good girl.”

it came in waves as your orgasm crashed over you. as your body convulsed, more would squirt out until you were empty. your body went limp. he turned the vibrator off, gently leaning down to kiss your skin, anywhere he could reach. your tummy, your chest, your neck, your jaw.

“are you doin okay, little one?” he asked.

you nodded, trying to catch your breath.

“you did it.” he said, kissing your temple. “daddy’s so proud of you. i knew you could do it. and it was so hot, baby.”

your eyes fluttered open, and you turned your head to face him. “really?”

his plush lips met yours. “yes really. you’re so sexy, baby. so perfect.”

“mm” you hummed, rubbing your nose against his. “love you, daddy.”

“i love you, princess.” he rutted into you, his clothed cock rubbing against your thigh. “you gonna let daddy use you now?” he asked. “i’ll be quick. let me fill you up, baby.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

i’m obviously not a squirt expert lol this is just from my experience.

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[rinhaler]

assuming ur reqs are still open, can we please get younger stepbro!megumi watching you get off through a peephole in the wall? and like you know he's watching so you call him a little perv and he gets harder 👀

i'm sorry if it's too specific sdjsdjsjjls ofc u don't have to do this, have a lovely day!!

-a follower who's too shy to come off anon

I hope this is okay for you! I've never really thought about writing a younger step brother thing before since I'm not into younger guys myself but I hope I made it fun for you to read, enjoy my angel!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, masturbation (m+f), voyeurism, vibrator use, stepcest ofc.

words: 1.1k

Going from being an only child to having a little brother was always going to be a big adjustment. It’s not like you’re that much older, but moving into a new home to accommodate a four person and two dog household was a big change. You had your own room on the ground floor of your old home. Your mother didn’t stop you from coming and going as you pleased.

But now, you have a room directly next door to Megumi.

You’re always butting heads and even your stepdad has been giving you trouble since your family merged. You have a curfew for the first time in your life. You aren’t allowed boys over and you haven’t been able to party in months. You’re frustrated. Constantly pent up from the lack of excitement in your life.

Megumi hasn’t helped the situation in the least. He’s a quiet introvert with a wicked tongue when he starts. You argue a lot, and he always gets you into trouble. You’re the wayward party girl. Whereas he’s the studious quiet guy that couldn’t ever put a foot wrong.

You’re going stir crazy.

And it’s been weeks since you got laid.

You took a risk when you decided to order a new vibrator to alleviate your tension. If you can’t satiate it with sex, a big pink wand will have to do. You didn’t want to get caught by a stupid mistake like your parents or your brother opening the parcel. So you ordered it to a friend’s house. She didn’t judge, but she dropped it off the very next day for you, winking and telling you not to have too much fun.

Fingers aren’t enough, they haven’t been for years.

The only thing that can relieve your growing tension is the buzz of a vibrator. You have small bullets and they do just fine, but if your stepdad is insisting on you having no life and no hook ups, you knew you had to up the ante.

The only other person home right now is Megumi. Your parents are at work and you quite frankly can’t wait to watch some porn and cum all over your toy. You hurry up the stairs and take it out of the packaging. You test to see if it has any charge, it does, and decide to forgo charging. You don’t care about a lengthy edging session. You just want to cum.

And you’ve known about the sick little hole Megumi drilled between your bedrooms for weeks now. He thought you weren’t home when he did it, opting to hide when he started peeping through. It’s behind a Weezer poster adjacent to his bed. You’ve seen the familiar green eye numerous times and opted not to say anything. Not because you want him to leer at you. But because you’re holding it to use as ammunition next time he really pisses you off.

You hear the indiscreet sound of his poster moving after you test the buzz of your vibrator. And you smirk, hearing how he carefully tries to unzip his pants and groans softly the second his hand holds his cock.

It’s an all too familiar sound, now. Him wanking over you at any given chance. It’s weird considering he has zero interest in you as a human being, doing anything he can to hinder your life. But watching you undress slowly everyday multiple times leaves him spent. And the intimate moments after dark that you have to yourself and the quietly playing porn you choose to watch on your phone are the highlights of his day.

He strokes himself slowly as you strip down to nothing, you’re teasing him as you fondle your breasts before getting comfortable on your bed. You settle for some lewd ASMR. A random man with a deep voice telling you what a good girl you are among other things. You do exaggerate a few moans, pretending that you have no idea that your brother is home and playing with himself over you.

It feels incredible.

You knew a wand would be powerful, but you had no idea to this extent.

“O-Oh, fuck, shit—” you gasp, cumming almost instantly as you up the speed to full. You’re shaking and shivering as your orgasm rips through you, and the sheer quickness of it all makes you burst into laughter. You cover your mouth, giggling, in a state of disbelief of how amazing this pink silicone toy is.

Megumi licks his lips, beating himself off quicker after realising you’ve came already. He hadn’t expected you to finish so quickly, but he keeps replaying the sound of your moans in his mind as he tries to chase you in your release. But he slows, again, when he hears you restart the wand. He grunts, too loudly, as he watches your hips roll into the wand, chasing the feeling of that release again.

“Such a little perv, Megumi.” you moan… not stopping the buzzing against your clit as you talk to him. “W-What would dad think? If he knew you were getting hard and cumming over me?”

He bites his lips, unable to believe you knew he was doing this. And even more shocked that you aren’t stopping, letting him watch you. Maybe even getting off on it? If he’s a perv, what does that make you?

But he knows he’s a perv. He’s had a thing for you since the minute he set eyes on you. Unable to believe how brazen you were with bringing boys home and making out with them without a care in front of your parents. Toji hated it, and so did Megumi. But he couldn’t deny it turned him on. And seeing how riled up you were getting after Toji’s boy ban was when he knew he had to take the plunge and make a little peephole for himself.

Spying on you every chance he got whenever you felt particularly needy or just wanted to change your outfit. He’s had so many jerk-off sessions to you thinking you were clueless.

But you’ve known… the whole time. It’s too much for him. It’s going to bring him to his fucking end.

“You’re such a slut…” he pants, his teeth piercing the skin on his lip enough to draw blood.

“I-I’d rather be a- a slut. Meg-umi. Than a gross little perv like you. Watchin’ me cum everyday… watchin’ me change… such a sicko. Hnng—!” you tense up, trying to hold back your orgasm while taunting your brother.

He cums, spurting white globs all over his fist and up the wall. You hear him hissing and grunting as he finishes, you even hear the sticky fisting sound over the buzz of your vibrator. He begins to pant, deep and heavy as a bead of sweat runs down his forehead.

“I hate you.” he mutters, putting his poster back down and moving away to clean himself up.

“Awe, come back Megs!” you giggle. “Don’t you wanna watch me cum?”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[soombee]

merry christmas , please don’t call — sim jake ⋆⁺₊❅⋆

pairing ; sim jake (en-) x reader (s.her pronouns)

warnings / genre ; hurt no comfort , alcohol consumption (don’t do this!!!) , jake being a real man and yearning , idol smau , mentions of harm (metaphorical) , lmk if more!

word count ; ~8600 (8.6k words)

publish date ; dec 4, 2024

sypnosis, jake sim still aches for the love he let go, haunted by memories of you in every snowfall—well more like every day he breathes. though your breakup was for the best, he can’t stop yearning in silence, whispering love letters you’ll never hear.

perm tag list (open) ! @voikiraz (tysmily)

— inspired by “merry christmas, please don’t call” by bleachers ^^

an ; hai guys Sorry for this LOLLL i still love u i promise… but no this actually hurt me to write.. sorry for thr weak angst tho I HATE angst so much plz #ILoveComfort ily so much jake i would never leave u…. (But actually plz leave if your s/o acts likw this or never follows their words w actions!! a liar will always tell and never act!!) AND PLS DO NOT GET BACK W UR EX (if they hurt you) (if they didn’t do anything and they hit u up RUN BACK HOME!!!! IJBOL) (only if u want to ofc) (do not cheat) (never ever be like jake in this fic #istillloveyou #imsorry.) anyqays. Hope this fic isn’t too boring, enjoyyy!!! ☺️☺️

the snow fell in soft, silent sheets, muffling the world and its noise. the streets glittered under the warm glow of streetlights but jake felt none of the holiday cheer radiating around him. his feet moved on autopilot, crunching through the fresh layer of snow as he headed toward the cafe—the café

he hated himself for coming here. he’d avoided this place for months, knowing full well it was a minefield of memories—every corner of the space filled with you. but tonight, something had drawn him back. maybe it was the first snow, or maybe it was the loneliness creeping in, heightened by the christmas spirit

he pushed the door open, the warm air inside hitting him like a bittersweet embrace. the smell of fresh coffee and gingerbread filled his senses, and for a moment, he could almost pretend nothing had changed

Almost.

jake’s eyes automatically scanned the room, even though he knew you wouldn’t be there. you were probably across town, maybe even across the country, living your new life—the one you’d both agreed you needed. but that didn’t stop his heart from aching as he slid into the corner booth, the one you’d always claimed as yours, the one where you two had met.

the waitress came by, and he ordered black coffee. no frills, no sweetness. just black and bitter, like the ache in his chest that refused to fade

he sat back, letting his gaze drift to the window. outside, the snow swirled under the streetlights, mesmerizing in its quiet beauty. but jake wasn’t thinking about the snow. he was thinking about you.

he thought about how your hands used to curl around your own mug, fingers perpetually cold until he’d wrap his own around them, how he’d dance you in the dim light of the night and how you looked as beautiful as ever. he thought about the way your nose would scrunch when he teased you, or how your laughter used to fill this space, louder and brighter than any christmas song playing in the background

God, he missed that laugh

he missed everything about you. the way you’d insist on splitting a cinnamon roll even though you’d end up eating most of it. the way you’d lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder as you people-watched through the frosted glass. he even missed the arguments—the stupid, petty fights about nothing that always ended with you curled into his side, whispering soft apologies against his neck

jake ran a hand through his hair, biting down hard on his bottom lip. he hated how vivid the memories were, how they clawed at him even now, months after you’d walked away

no, that wasn’t fair. you hadn’t just walked away—you’d made the decision together. it had been mutual, logical. you’d both realized you were heading in different directions, that clinging to each other was only holding you back. you’d promised to let each other go, to grow, to heal

but jake wasn’t sure he’d healed at all

if anything, he felt stuck. he went through the motions—practice, performances, interviews, photoshoots. smiling for the cameras, playing the part. but behind closed doors, it was you he thought about when the silence crept in. It was your voice he longed to hear when he woke up in the middle of the night, reaching for someone who wasn’t there

the coffee arrived, and he wrapped his hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into his frozen fingers. he stared at the black liquid, the bitter aroma filling his lungs. he didn’t even like black coffee, not at all. you used to tease him about it, saying it didn’t suit his personality

“sim jaeyun, a golden retriever in human form, drinking something so bitter? you’d have to kill me to make me believe it,” you’d said with a laugh, stealing a sip from his cup before grimacing dramatically, “yuck, this is nasty!!!”

jake clenched his jaw, the ghost of your laughter ringing in his ears. he couldn’t count the number of times he’d caught himself replaying your voice in his head, as if the sound of it could bring you closer. it never worked, of course. the space between you had only grown more distant, the threads of your shared life unraveling into nothing but silly little memories

he stared out the window, the snow piling higher on the sidewalks. couples walked by, their faces illuminated by the golden glow of christmas lights. one of them reminded him of you—a girl tugging at her boyfriend’s scarf, laughing as he rolled his eyes and let her adjust it for him. it was the kind of small, meaningless moment he used to share with you

but now, jake didn’t have anyone adjusting his scarf. he barely wore one at all, the cold biting at his skin a welcome distraction from the pounding aches in his chest

his phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him back to the present. he pulled it out hesitantly, the screen lighting up with a notification. it wasn’t you—of course it wasn’t. it was just a message from jay, asking if he wanted to join the group for dinner later. jake didn’t reply. he couldn’t bring himself to face anyone tonight, not when the weight of you was still pressing down on him so heavily

his thumb hovered over your contact instead, the familiar name glaring back at him like a taunt. he shouldn’t. he couldn’t. you’d made it clear when you parted ways: no calls, no texts, no nothings. not because you didn’t care, but because you cared too much. staying in each other’s lives would have been too painful, a constant reminder of what you had both lost

but God, did he want to hear your voice.

“merry christmas, please don’t call,” he muttered under his breath, echoing the line from the song that had been haunting him all night. he set the phone face down on the table, resisting the urge to do something he’d later regret

the truth was, he didn’t even know what he’d say if you picked up. would he tell you he missed you? that he still kept the scarf you left at his apartment, buried in the back of his closet because he couldn’t bring himself to throw it out? that every time he heard your favorite song, he had to leave the room because it made his chest tighten with longing?

jake laughed bitterly, shaking his head. none of it would matter. you were gone, and no amount of yearning could bring you back

the café was quieter now, the other customers leaving as the evening wore on. jake drained the last of his coffee, the bitterness lingering on his tongue. he left a few bills on the table and stood, his legs feeling heavier than they should

outside, the snow was laying thicker, coating the world in white. it was beautiful, he supposed, but it only made the city feel emptier

as he walked down the street, the cold seeped through his coat, but he didn’t care. his thoughts were stuck on you, on what could have been if things had been different. if he’d fought harder. if you’d stayed.

but life wasn’t “the notebook,” there were no miracles waiting to reunite you. the was only the cold, and the loneliness, and the silence

jake reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone again. his thumb hovered over your name one last time before he let out a shaky breath and put it back in his pocket

“merry christmas,” he whispered to the empty street. “i hope you’re happy.”

with that, he kept walking, his figure disappearing into the snowfall, the quiet yearning in his heart a burden he’d carry alone—do you still think of me?

flashback — beginning of the end

his absence wasn’t sudden—it never was. it began to stretch further and further. at first, you’d see him four or five days a week, then three. then there were weeks when you could count the hours he was home on one hand

you adjusted, at least outwardly. you stopped waiting up for him, stopped asking if he’d be home for dinner. every time you thought to reach out, his familiar excuses echoed in your mind:

jakey jakey: sorry baby, new album soon. promise i’ll make it up to you, i love you!

but his words felt emptier with every passing week.

sometimes, you’d sit on the couch with your phone in your hand, staring at his contact name and wondering if it was worth calling. would he even pick up? if he did, what would you say?

i miss you.

i can’t keep doing this.

come home.

instead, you swallowed your words and let the silence stretch on.

to cope, you tried to fill the spaces he left behind

you threw yourself into work, taking on extra projects to keep your mind busy. you reconnected with old friends, meeting up for coffee or weekend brunches that helped ease the ache, even if only for a little while. you even had time to travel to australia to visit your in-laws.

but no matter how much you tried to distract yourself, the loneliness always crept back in. it lingered in the empty apartment, in the untouched leftovers in the fridge, in the cold side of the bed where jake used to sleep.

your friends noticed, too.

“you okay?” one of them asked over lunch one day

you forced a smile, “mhm, just busy, yk?”

“have you seen Jake lately?”

the question hit harder than you expected. You hesitated before answering,

“not as much as I’d like.”

they exchanged a look, one you couldn’t quite decipher, but they didn’t press further

when you got home that evening, you sat in the quiet and wondered if this was your life now: always waiting, always wondering, always pretending everything was fine

you told yourself it was temporary.

jake had always been ambitious—relentlessly so—and you admired that about him. he’d fought days and nights of exhaustion to get to where he was, pouring his blood, sweat, and tears into a career that demanded everything and more from him

you had to understand that.

when he missed date night for a sudden meeting, you reminded yourself of how hard he worked to provide for a future you both dreamed about. you pictured the life he talked about during quiet nights: a cozy home, maybe with the children you two had planned on having, vacations to places you’d only seen in magazines. this was just a temporary sacrifice, you told yourself. he was doing it for you. for both of you.

on your anniversary, when he texted to say he was stuck at the building again, you tried not to let the hurt show. you prepared the dinner anyway—all of his favorite meals—lighting the candles and sitting at the table long after the food had gone cold

when he finally called, voice strained and full of apologies, you smiled through the disappointment,

“haha it’s okay, my love. i know you’re busy.”

“next time,” he promised, “i’ll make it up to you.”

you wanted to believe him.

and when the missed dinners and canceled plans piled up, you clung to the hope that all of it—the sacrifices, the empty nights, the growing distance—was worth it, he’s a rising star!

he’s doing this for us, you repeated like a mantra, even as the cracks in your heart grew deeper. stop being so selfish, yn. he loves you, he’s doing this for us.

but as the months passed, those words began to feel like a lie and you wondered how much more of yourself you could give before there was nothing left.

your birthday came — jake promised to surprise you. everything should have been perfect.

he had planned everything down to the smallest detail. he’d listened when you talked about how much you missed those intimate dinners, the quiet moments when time seemed to slow. he remembered every little thing you liked and disliked, and he had worked tirelessly to make this birthday different—to make up for the forgotten anniversaries, the unspoken words, the promises made in the heat of passion and quickly broken in the cold rush of reality.

a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant. a small, decadent cake with the kind of frosting you loved, not too sweet but perfectly balanced. a handwritten letter, each word carefully chosen to remind you of all the reasons why he loves you, of all the reasons why you had been the light in his life for so long, of all the words he could not say to you.

but none of it happened the way Jake had envisioned..

you sat on your couch, hands gripping the edges of your phone, staring at the screen as the minutes ticked by. 5:30 pm—the time you had agreed upon. that was when you expected him to arrive. that promised. promised it would be different this time but as the hands of the clock seemed to mock you, you knew deep down that this night was going to be just like every other—every single one of the nights you had spent waiting for him.

the dinner you’d prepared, with love and care, now sat on the table, cold and untouched. the candles you had lit to set the mood flickered softly in the silence of the room, their light casting long shadows on the walls.

you sent another message,

“baby, where are you?”

the response came minutes later.

“running behind, something came up at the studio. be there soon, i promise lovely.”

you stared at the screen, your heart sinking. ‘be there soon..’ you had heard that so many times, but it had never meant anything. he had always said the same thing, always claimed he was on his way, and yet it felt like you were always the one who waited. always the one left behind

you placed your phone on the table, willing yourself not to cry. but it wasn’t about the tears anymore. it was the disappointment. the frustration. the pain that had built up over weeks, months even, as his promises piled up like empty words

an hour passed. another message.

“so sorry, baby. still at the studio. it’s running late.”

at the studio. Again.

it had been weeks since you had gone out to dinner together without something getting in the way. his job, his career, his ambitions—they always took precedence. you understood that, you told yourself. you’d been patient, supportive, waiting quietly for him to balance things out, to see you the way you needed to be seen.

but now? now, you were beginning to wonder if he even saw you anymore, if he even thought about you

when the door finally opened, it felt like the moment you’d been waiting for all night was anticlimactic

jake stepped in, his coat dripping water onto the floor, his face twisted with guilt and exhaustion. his eyes were wide with that apologetic look, but it wasn’t enough. not anymore. the bouquet of flowers he held in his hands was a sad excuse—wilting, pale, as if the gesture itself had already been rotten

“i’m so sorry i’m late baby,” he began, the words rushed as if they were rehearsed,“there was this thing at the studio, and—”

you couldn’t take it anymore

“do you even care?” the words came out harsher than you expected, filled with raw, unfiltered emotion

jake froze

you could see the way his breath hitched, the way his hands tightened around the flowers as if they were the only thing grounding him to the present moment—even though the thorns from its stems found its way into his skin. he looked so lost. so helpless.

his mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. you could see the panic in his eyes—the kind of panic that came from knowing he had already failed. but still, he reached for you, as if that would solve everything. as if the gesture alone could erase the months of distance between you two

but you weren’t willing to forgive him, not this time. not when your heart ached too much for you to pretend that things were okay anymore

“are you serious?” you laughed, but it wasn’t funny. it was bitter,

“every time i think it’s getting better, you pull this shit. i’m always waiting. always. and you’re never here. NEVER present. You’re just like my fucking dad, jake.”

his face paled, his eyes flickering to the table where the cold meal sat untouched, the cake you had baked slowly sinking into itself, the flickering candles an eerie reminder of how much time had passed,

“i swear i didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, but the words felt hollow, like they were coming from a place where regret was no longer enough to fix anything, “i swear i was going to—”

“it’s always your words and never your actions. what? you thought i would be okay with this?” your voice broke then, the weight of your frustration cracking through the veneer of control you had been holding onto all evening,

“that I would just understand? you’ve been promising me for weeks, jake. weeks! and all you do is disappoint me. i don’t even know who i’m waiting for anymore”

his face twisted with guilt. he wanted to reach for you, to pull you into his arms, to apologize until it made everything better, to reassure you that he was still the jake that you fell for, but he knew he couldn’t. he knew the distance between you wasn’t something he could close with a hug or a few empty words.

“i love you,” he said quietly, his voice full of desperation, as though that would be enough

you flinched at the words, like a punch to the gut. you love him too, but love didn’t fix this. love didn’t heal the broken parts of you that had cracked under the weight of his absence.

you shook your head. “i used to believe you. i really did.”

jake’s eyes watered at your words, his throat tightening as if he was on the verge of breaking down, but you couldn’t bring yourself to comfort him anymore. not when you were drowning in your own hurt, drowning in a flood caused by him

“you don’t even know how much this hurts,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “i’ve been waiting for so long, and all you ever do is show up when it’s too late.”

the silence between you was suffocating, the air thick with things unsaid, feelings that had been buried too deep for too long. jake opened his mouth to speak, but you raised a hand to stop him

“jake please,” you said softly, each word feeling like a finality you had been avoiding for months. “i can’t do this anymore.”

he staggered back, as if you had slapped him, the weight of your words landing like a punch to his chest. he opened his mouth to say something, but it was clear that nothing could undo what had been done

“i’m sorry. i really am,” he murmured

but you couldn’t hear him. not anymore. the door was closing, slowly but surely, and he was too late to stop it

you turned your back to him, taking deep breaths, fighting to keep your composure. you couldn’t stay in this room with him any longer. not when everything had become a reminder of his neglect. not when the warmth you had once shared had been replaced by this suffocating cold

“please…just go,” you said, voice breaking as you finally let the tears fall

he hesitated, as if waiting for you to change your mind. but when you didn’t, he turned and left, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed in your heart

and in the stillness of your apartment, you realized you were alone.

hours later, after he had left, you sat in the quiet of the dark apartment, the remnants of your birthday still scattered around you—half-eaten food, the stale cake, the wilted flowers. you had always been told that love was supposed to feel like home, but all you felt now was the emptiness of it

the day it finally ended.. oh it was heartbreaking.

it was late, nearing three am, when jake arrived at the apartment. you were laying down on the couch, hands curled beneath your head, waiting patiently in the cold. the sound of his keys jingling in the door used to fill you with relief, but tonight it only brought dread of whats to come next

jake stepped inside, his shoulders slumped, dark circles beneath his eyes. he paused when he saw you drifting to sleep, your face lit only by the dim glow of a nearby lamp

“hi baby, why are you still up?” he asked, his voice tentative, he kisses your head

“i needed to talk to you,” you said, sitting upc keeping your voice steady—though your chest felt like it was already caving in.

he kicked off his shoes, setting down his bag. “can it wait? it’s been a long day—”

“no.”

that one word was enough to stop him in his tracks. he looked at you properly then, his brows furrowing as he took in the tense set of your shoulders, the tight grip you had on your thigh.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, though you both already knew the answer

you took a deep breath, your throat tight, “jake, we can’t keep doing this.”

he froze, his hands hovering over the back of his head, “..doing what?”

“this,” you said, motioning to the space between you. “pretending that everything’s okay. pretending that we’re okay.”

his jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to argue against the idea. but then his shoulders sagged, and he sat down across beside you, his movements slow and deliberate

“i know i’ve been distant,” he started, his voice barely above a whisper, “but i swear i’m trying to get everything done as fast as possible, love.”

you shook your head, tears already pooling in your eyes, “you’ve been saying that for months, yun. and i’ve been so. patient. i’ve been waiting for you to come home, to show up, to prove that we still mean something to you. but you never do.”

“that’s not fair,” he said, his voice breaking, “you know how hard they’ve been making me work. you know how much this career means to me.”

“and what about me?” you shot back, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “what about us? don’t we mean anything to you anymore?”

his silence was deafening.

“jake,” you continued, your voice trembling, “i’ve been here since the beginning, holding on, hoping things would get better. but they’re not. and i don’t think they ever will.”

his head dropped into his hands, and for the first time, you saw him break

“please,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “please don’t do this.” he held your face with grace, not wanting to hurt you even more

your heart shattered at the sound of his desperation and the look of defeat on his face, oh your poor baby had tears in his eyes. but you forced yourself to stay strong, “i don’t want this either. but i can’t keep holding on to someone who’s never here. i can’t keep chasing for someone who won’t wait for me.”

he looked away then, his eyes red and glossy. “you’re everything to me. don’t you see that? everything i’m doing—it’s for our future. i want to give you everything you want in life.”

“but what’s the point of a future,” you said, your voice heavy with sorrow, “if we can’t even make it through the present, jake?”

you stood up after wiping his tears, “i love you jake but i’m hurting, i can’t stay with someone who’s never there to comfort me.”

and with that, you disappeared into the depths of your shared room.

the next morning, jake was gone before you woke up—7:39 am, he had only slept for 4 hours..? he left a note on the kitchen counter, scrawled in his messy handwriting:

“I’m sorry.”

that was it. no explanation, no promises to try harder. just two words that felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

you couldn’t take it anymore.. you couldn’t take his empty words and promises anymore.

by the time he came back that evening, the apartment was empty. your clothes were gone, your toothbrush missing from its place by his. you didn’t leave a note—what was there left to say?

jake sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the now-bare dresser where your framed photo once stood. his phone buzzed in his pocket, but he didn’t bother to check it. he already knew it wasn’t you, why would it be you?

he couldn’t bare the emptiness of the space.

that night, he called his mother. the moment her face appeared on the screen, her warm smile faltered at the sight of him.

“jake? what’s wrong, mom’s sweetie?”

and that was all it took. his facade crumbled, and the tears came before he could even speak

“she’s gone, mom,” he choked out, his voice barely audible

his mother’s face softened with concern, “oh, baby…”

“i tried,” he continued, his words tumbling over one another. “i tried to balance everything—to make her happy, to make this work, to keep my career. but i couldn’t. i couldn’t give her what she needed.

“did you talk to her?” his mother asked gently

jake shook his head, wiping his face with the back of his hand, “what could I say? that i’m sorry? that i’ll do better? i’ve said those things a hundred times, and it was never enough.”

his mother’s face flickered with sadness, her heart aching for her son. she wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms, to hold him the way she had when he was little and scraped his knees on the playground but she couldn’t reach him through the screen.

“jaeyun,” she said gently, “you’ve been carrying so much on your shoulders. you’ve always worked so hard—for your career, for the people you love. but sometimes, love isn’t about how hard you try. it’s about being there and it sounds like that’s what dear yn needed most.”

“i know,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “i know, but i couldn’t.. i thought i was doing the right thing but now she’s gone and i don’t know how to fix it. i don’t know if I can fix it—“

his mother let out a soft sigh, her expression pained. “sweetie, listen to me. it’s okay to grieve, to feel like you’ve failed. but you can’t carry this alone. you need to let yourself feel it, even if it hurts. you need to take time for yourself, for your heart”

jake nodded weakly but his chest ached with the knowledge that time wouldn’t bring you back,

“i miss her,” he admitted, his voice breaking again, just like his prepubescent days, “i miss her so much, mom. i don’t know how to do this without her”

“you’re stronger than you think,” she replied, her voice steady but filled with love, “but that doesn’t mean you have to do it all on your own. lwan on the people who care about you—your members, your friends. and if you ever need mom, i’m here.”

those words should have comforted him, but they only made him feel the distance more acutely. she wasn’t in korea, she was thousands of kilometers away, he couldn’t just drive over to see her, to collapse into her arms and let her stroke his hair the way she used to when he got scared of thunder striking,

“i wish i could be there,” he said, his voice trembling, “i wish i could just… come home and stay there forever.”

his mother’s expression softened, tears shining in her eyes. “i wish you could, too. but always remember why you moved back to korea, to achieve your dreams.. but still, i’m always with you, jaeyun. always.”

it wasn’t enough—not really. he needed her here, needed to feel her arms around him, needed her to tell him everything would be okay even if it felt like his entire world was crumbling but he nodded anyway. he agreed, knowing there was nothing else to say, nothing else could be said

“thank you, mom,” he murmured, his voice hoarse from all the recordings, melt downs, dehydration.

“take care of yourself, sweetheart,” she replied, “don’t forget that i love you always.”

“i love you, too,” Jake said, his voice breaking again as he ended the call, the screen going dark

jake stared at his reflection in the blank screen for a long moment, his face blotchy and tear-streaked, eyes red and swollen. he dropped the phone onto the couch beside him, burying his face in his hands as another wave of grief hit him—you were gone.

the comfort he sought was so close yet unreachable. his mother’s words lingered in his mind, warm and full of love, but they couldn’t bridge the thousands of miles between them. he felt like a child again, crying out for someone to make the pain stop, but no one could.

he sank further into the couch, the silence of the apartment pressing down on him. it was unbearable. everywhere he looked, there were memories of you—the book you’d left on the coffee table, your favorite mug still sitting in the cupboard, the blanket on the couch you always used when you curled up to watch movies together..

he thought of how you used to hum absentmindedly in the kitchen, how you’d lean against the counter and laugh at his attempts to help, how he’d always hug you from behind while you were cooking. he thought of the way you’d smile at him, soft and full of love, as if he were the only thing that mattered in the world,

but now, you were gone.

he clutched the throw pillow to his chest, as if holding onto it could somehow bring you back. he wanted to scream, to break something, to do anything that might ease the ache in his chest but all he could do was sit there and drown in his own regret

jake had always prided himself on being strong, on enduring whatever life threw at him, but this? this was different. this was the kind of pain that seeped into every corner of his being, leaving him hollow and exhausted.

he wanted to call you, to beg for another chance, to promise he’d do better. But he knew it wouldn’t change anything. you’d tried—both of you had—and it still hadn’t been enough.

so he sat there, alone, in the dark, heart aching for a love he could no longer hold onto.

—

jake spent the next few weeks wandering through his days in a haze. the apartment felt impossibly quiet without you there, your absence a constant reminder of what he’d lost.

he drowned himself with work, staying late at the studio until exhaustion forced him to stop. although no matter how busy he kept himself, the emptiness remained

some nights, he found himself sitting by the window, clutching the small, crumpled note you’d once written to him: “i’ll never stop loving you, i will love you until we both become food for soil!!”

but now, he wasn’t yours to love anymore.

and that realization hurt more than anything else.

days without you blurred into weeks, and the weeks into months. but for your ex lover, time didn’t heal—it only deepened the wound, pressing onto it with a sharper blade. you were everywhere, not just in the apartment you’d once shared but in the life you continued living without him.

each of your milestones became a ghost that haunted him, milestones he had once imagined celebrating by your side. now, they were moments he had to watch from afar, each one a bittersweet mix of pride and pain, leaving him both in awe of your resilience and hollowed by his absence from your joy.

your birthday. don’t even get jake started on your birthday.

he had always loved your birthdays—well, before the idol like exhausted him. he used to make them extravagant, treating the day like a sacred holiday meant for only the two of you. he remembered how your eyes lit up at the smallest details—a handwritten note tucked under your pillow, a trail of flower petals from your once-shared bedroom all the way to the kitchen table, breakfast already made for you, the way he’d stay up until midnight just to be the first to wish you everything you’ve been working towards

but this year was different.

jake found out about your celebration through a tagged photo on social media. you were at a cozy rooftop party surrounded by your beloved friends, the city skyline twinkling in the background. yog were smiling, radiant as ever, holding a cupcake with a single swirly candle

he couldn’t stop staring at the screen, fingers frozen over his phone as he scrolled through the pictures. he noticed how your smile was the same one he used to know—bright, genuine—but there was something missing. or maybe it was just him, searching for a version of you that didn’t exist anymore, searching for a hint of sadness in you.

he typed a message, the words “happy birthday, I hope you’re doing well” sitting in the text box. but before he could press send, his own voice echoed in his mind, bitter and sharp:

happy birthday. please don’t call.

his chest tightened as he deleted the message. you didn’t need him ruining your special day. he put the phone down, but the images of you celebrating stayed in his mind, vivid and unrelenting. for the rest of the night, he sat at the piano, fingers moving across the keys as he tried to compose something—anything—to capture the ache in his chest but all that his fingers memorized were the chords of your favorite song.

by morning, the only words he had written were:

i love you. i’m sorry.

a few months later — one year after your break up.

jake knew today was special. he didn’t need to see pictures to know you’d graduated. he remembered the date from when you used to talk about it, lying next to him in bed, your voice filled with hope and determination,

“i can’t wait for you to see me walk across that stage with aaaalll my chords, sashes, and medals,” you’d said, your head resting on his chest. “i’ll probably trip, though..”

he’d laugh, kissing the top of your head,

“i’ll catch you if you do”

the thought twisted in his chest now, bitter and hollow. he wasn’t there to catch you—not at your ceremony, not in your life. he wondered if someone else had stepped into that role.. no. nevermind. that thought hurt to imagine.. it hurt a little too much.

he found himself scrolling through old photos on his phone, landing on one of you in his hoodie, hair messy, glasses perched on your nose as you furiously typed away at your laptop. you were studying for finals, the faintest scowl on your lips

“i don’t know why i’m doing this,” you’d muttered, frustrated

“because you’re amazing,” jake had replied without hesitation, “and you’re gonna be the best (profession of choice) out there”

now, he stared at the picture until his vision blurred. you had achieved your dream after years of education, just like you always said you would. he wanted to tell you how proud he was, how he’d always believed in you, how he’d always be your biggest fan.

but all he could whisper into the silence was:

“congratulations. please don’t call.”

“i’m proud of you. please don’t call.”

—

it was easy for you to find a starting job in your career dud to your impressive statistics.

when jake saw the announcement, it was like a punch to the gut. someone had shared your linkedin update—a smiling picture of you holding a nameplate for your new job. the caption was simple, professional, but it felt like a dagger:

“i’m officially licensed hehe”

the brunette stared at the photo for what felt like hours, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. he was proud of you—of course he was. he’d always known how capable and brilliant you were, but the pride was laced with a sharp, unbearable ache.

he couldn’t stop the flood of memories—thinking about the nights you spent on his couch, head buried in job applications, chewing on the end of your pen as you stressed over every word. he remembered your hopeful smile when you got that first interview call and how you’d hugged him so tight he could barely breathe when you told him the good news.

jake used to imagine this moment—your first big girl job, your first step into the career you’d worked so hard for. but in every version of that memory, he was there to celebrate with you. he’d pictured himself popping champagne in your apartment, pulling you into a kiss as he told you how proud he was.

instead, he sat in his empty apartment, staring at a screen. the message he wanted to send formed in his mind: i always knew you’d get there, my love. you deserve this.

but then, like a reflex, the bitter echo followed:

please don’t call.

his phone buzzed with a notification—another congratulations for you from a mutual friend. He muted the conversation. it wasn’t jealousy; it was the sinking realization that the version of your future he’d envisioned, where he stood beside you every step of the way, was gone.

later that night, jake sat down, pen and paper in hand, writing absentmindedly. mind soft, full of you and how proud he was:

“congratulations on your first job.

i knew you’d get there.

i knew you’d shine.

but please don’t call.

i’m proud of you.

please don’t call.”

his fingers cracked on the last line, and he put the pen down, pressing his palms into his eyes to stop the tears.

as he stopped writing, he decided to pick up his guitar, the melody so melancholic and raw.

the lyrics he’d written—unfinished and full of longing—stayed with him. you slipped into his music, weaving through the melodies he created, even when he didn’t mean for them to. the studio became both a sanctuary and a battlefield.

his bandmates noticed the shift. he was quieter during rehearsals, distracted during dance practices, often lost in thought. when he sang, his voice carried a weight it hadn’t before—a deep sadness that even they couldn’t ignore.

one night, alone in the studio, jake finally recorded a song. the verses described every aspect of yours he’d missed: your kindness, thoughtfulness, your gentle face, your everything. each line was a love letter wrapped in pain, a confession he could never send.

by the end of the recording, his voice broke completely. the final line lingered in the empty room, his whisper barely audible:

“one ticket out of your heavy gaze

I want one ticket off of your carousel

I want one ticket out of your heavy gaze

I want one ticket off of your carousel”

jake didn’t know if the song would ever see the light of day. it wasn’t meant for anyone else but himself. it was his way of holding onto whatever he had left of you, even as the world forced him to let go.

and yet, as he sat in the silent studio, he couldn’t help but wish—just once—that you would listen to his song anyway.

years later — he hasn’t heard from you in a while, maybe he was finally healing after years of hurt..?

** ding..!!

oh! oh? ….oh.

“yes to forever!!” your instagram post captioned

it was simple—just a picture of your hand intertwined with someone else’s, a gleaming ring on your finger

the world seemed to tilt as he stared at the photo. his vision blurred, the edges of the screen fading into a dull haze. for a moment, he thought it was a joke, a misunderstanding, or maybe just a bad dream!! he rubs his eyes, no. no no no—there it was, still clear and undeniable, he could feel every pinch his fingers inflicted

jake didn’t breathe. he couldn’t.

he clutched his phone tighter, as though crushing the image into oblivion would erase this event. but the picture stayed, unwavering, a testament to the reality he’d spent years dreading. you were moving on..?

he had flashbacks of the future he’d once imagined.

there had been a time when jake couldn’t picture his life without you. you’d once lain together under a canopy of stars and fireflies, his hand in yours, as you talked about the future—two kids, one pet, and a happy life with each other.

“what kind of wedding do you want?” he had asked, his voice soft and full of promise

you had laughed, rolling onto your side to face him. “something small and intimate. just our close friends and family. i don’t need anything big as long as i’m with you”

he smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “i’ll make it perfect.”

he had imagined that day so vividly. you in white, walking toward him, the room filled with music he had handwritten just for you. he’d imagined the vows he’d whisper, promises he’d spend a lifetime keeping. and he’d imagined forever with you—a future where he could hold your hand until the very end

now, that future belonged to someone else. someone deserving of your love.

he didn’t want to know when your wedding day was set. no, he didn’t want to know anything about you at all. but fate had a cruel sense of humor. he overheard it in passing from a mutual friend, who mentioned it like it was just another piece of small talk.

the day arrived like a storm, unrelenting and heavy. jake woke up early, his chest tight and his mind racing. every hour felt like a countdown, each second pulling him closer to the inevitable

by noon, he was in the studio, in meetings, in talkshows trying to drown his thoughts in work. but even his industry betrayed him. everything reminded him of you, of the songs you used to hum while he played, of the melodies you inspired, of talkshows you’d talk about

he couldn’t escape you.

as the evening rolled around, jake found himself sitting on the floor of his apartment, a glass of liquor in hand. his phone lay beside him, the screen dark, but he couldn’t stop staring at it. he wondered what you were doing at that exact moment.

were you walking down the aisle? were you kissing his lips? were you happy?

jake’s throat tightened as he imagined it—the soft rustle of fabric as you stepped forward, the way your smile must have lit up the room. he pictured your hands trembling slightly as they always did when you were nervous, and then he imagined someone else holding those hands steady

someone who wasn’t him.

the thought sent a sharp ache through his chest. he tried to take another sip of whiskey but his hand shook so badly that the liquid sloshed over the edge of the glass. setting it down, he pressed his palms into his eyes, as if that could stop the flood of images rushing through his mind.

he could almost hear your laugh, soft and bright, as you said I do. as you committed the rest of your life with a random guy.

jake leaned back against the wall, head tilted toward the ceiling. he’d let his mind drift to the promises he once rehearsed in secret, words he thought he’d say to you on your wedding day.

“i promise to never let you doubt how much i love you. i promise to be your biggest supporter, your greatest comfort, your forever.”

he’d practiced them countless times, sometimes whispering them into your ears as you drowned in the quiet night, other times writing them out in notebooks he still couldn’t bear to throw away

but those promises never left his lips. instead, someone else had taken the vows that should have been his. someone else got to stand where he always thought he’d be,

his memories collided.

the hours dragged on, and jake was helpless to stop himself from scrolling through every post, every picture that filtered onto his feed. he saw the smiling faces of your friends, the decorations you’d once described as your dream aesthetic, and then, finally, he saw you

you were breathtaking, just as he’d always imagined. the way your dress flowed around you, the soft light catching on your features—it was like a snapshot from his dreams. only now, the man beside you wasn’t him.

jake didn’t realize he was crying until a tear splashed onto his phone screen. he swiped it away angrily, but the flood wouldn’t stop. his breaths came in shallow gasps, his chest heaving under the weight of his grief,

he tried to rationalize it. he told himself this was for the best, that you deserved happiness—even if it wasn’t with him but the logic couldn’t touch the deep, raw ache in his heart.

he seeked so much comfort.

jake reached for his phone and dialed his mother. it rang twice before her familiar voice answered,

“Hello my sweetie”

hearing her almost broke him completely. he clutched the phone tightly, his voice trembling as he spoke. “mom… i—i don’t know what to do.”

“what’s wrong, jaeyunie?” her tone was soft, laced with concern

he hesitated. he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. couldn’t tell her that the person he loved more than forever was now promising forever to someone else

instead, his words came out broken and vague. “i just.. i feel like i’m losing everything.”

“oh, jake.” her voice cracked slightly, and he could picture her, thousands of miles away in brisbane, wishing she could reach out and hold him. “i’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.”

“i want to come home,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “i just want to see you. i need to see you.”

“i wish you could, too,” she said gently. “but you’re strong, jake. i know you are. stay in korea for yourself”

he nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. the words were comforting in their own way, but they didn’t ease the pain gnawing at him. nothing ever could.

“i’ll be okay,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure he believed it. “i just.. i just don’t know how to let go.”

there was a long pause on the other end of the line. when his mother spoke again, her voice was thick with the weight of unspoken words,

“i know, son, i know”

jake closed his eyes, letting the silence hang between them for a moment before he whispered, “i wish i was there with her. i was supposed to be the one beside her today.”

his mother sighed, a sound full of both sympathy and sorrow, “you know it’s not always about being there physically, jake, but I understand.. it’s hard to let go when you’re still holding onto the dream you built in your heart.”

he swallowed hard, the tightness in his throat making it difficult to speak. “i thought she was the one. I thought we had a future. and now, i don’t know what i’m supposed to do with all of this… all these feelings, and she’s… she’s not even thinking of me anymore”

his mother’s voice softened. “I know. but maybe.. maybe you’ve been holding onto a version of her that’s no longer yours. people change, sweetheart. and so do relationships.”

jake stared blankly at the wall, letting the words settle in, but they didn’t make him feel any better. in fact, they only made him feel more lost, more alone. he knew it was true, of course—he’d seen it happening slowly over the past months. But to hear it spoken out loud made the truth more final, more undeniable,

“i just don’t know how to say goodbye..” his voice cracked, a sob he couldn’t hold back rising in his chest,

“i know, darling,” she replied softly. “but sometimes, saying goodbye is the only way to set both of you free”

oh….. i hate everything about goodbyes.

the night wore on and jake found himself unable to move, still sitting in the same spot. the wedding pictures had all but burned themselves into his memory, and he couldn’t look away from them. he wanted to scream, to shout, to curse the world for taking you away from him—but he couldn’t. instead, he just let the tears flow freely, as if every drop of sadness, of regret, was somehow washing away the person he used to be.

as the clock ticked past midnight, his phone buzzed again. it was a message from a group chat with his bandmates, and he briefly considered ignoring it. but then he saw it: a single notification from.. you..?

“Hi Jake!! God, I’m sorry. I wanted to reach out sooner because we’ve just been soo apart for a while, and I’m not sure if this is the right time to say this but, I just wanted to say… thank you for everything. You helped me become who I am today.”

he stared at the message with his heart in the pits of his stomach for several long moments, feeling the weight of each word press against his chest. the ache deepened. you had moved on—fully, completely—and here he was, stuck in the past, unable to let go.

it was almost cruel the way your message made him feel both grateful and shattered at the same time. you were happy. you had your life, your future. you had someone who would be there for you in ways he never could be anymore.

his thumb hovered over the screen, but no words came. what could he possibly say? what could he say to someone who no longer needed him?

I still love you.

He deleted it.

the words stayed with him. the line, the thin thread of hope that still clung to his heart, even though he knew better.

jake sat in the dark of his apartment, the echoes of your wedding day still fresh in his mind, and then, finally, he reached for his phone again. his fingers shook as he typed out a message to you—one he knew he should never send but couldn’t stop himself from writing

he pressed send before he could second-guess himself, but almost immediately, regret filled him. his eyes were glued at the message for a long time, his heart pounding in his chest. it was too much. he couldn’t expect you to do so, to follow his message. not when you had worked so hard and moved on to a future that didn’t include him

the notification buzzed back with the “delivered” mark

and yet, he held onto that one shred of hope—just for a second, just for a moment—wondering if, somehow, you would come back. maybe not now, but someday.

he closed his eyes, the weight of the words still heavy in his chest. and with a single, painful exhale, he let go.

“Congratulations on your wedding. Please call me.”

purely © soombee ‘s work ― all rights reserved !! please refrain from copying , stealing , or translating my work ( w/o permission ) thanku!

[milksnake-tea]

I´m the latest anon,with Blade please.

❀ ˎˊ- prompts: When they wake up in the middle of the night, and you aren't by their side. + "Please, stay. Just… stay." ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: blade ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: angst ofc :(( but primarily hurt/comfort, implied violence, mentions of death (its blade whatd u expect), nightmares, ends in happy ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: i might change up the wording of the phrase bc blade doesn't strike me as the person to actually say this out loud, but it'll be in thoughts !!! also the ending is eating at me but ITS OKAY I DID IT SO YIPPEEE

It's well past midnight when Blade is ripped from his sleep.

His chest heaves with shuddered breaths, his eyes blown wide with something akin to fear. His eyes crinkle as he silently groans in frustration, taking in deep breaths to steady himself. But it doesn't work.

Gingerly running his fingers over his neck, he recounts the nightmare. The sharp chill of ice still lingers where he'd been struck by his former comrade, phantom pains where her blade had slashed him. Blade had never feared death before - on the contrary, he'd always welcomed it. But it was different with her. With Jingliu, he…

Her blood-red eyes, as cold as a corpse and with the liveliness of one as well, seared into his memory like an iron stamp.

Blade sighed to himself, blinking up towards the ceiling. At this rate, he'd barely get any sleep at all. Even worse, it would cause his mara to act up once again.

Raising his hand, Blade clicked his tongue when he saw it shake, the tiniest tremor running through it.

He hated this. He hated the trembling of his fingers. He hated the rapid thud of his heart, which still hadn't stopped. He hated how even a distant memory of that woman could make him so weak, so… afraid.

Closing his eyes, he rolled over, reaching over to your side of the bed. Whenever the nightmares came about, you were his anchor. If in the morning, you woke up, and Blade was clinging to your side, head buried into your neck, you would know what had transpired that night.

Only you weren't there tonight.

His hands close around empty sheets, his arm wrapping around a pillow rather than your body. Instantly, Blade's eyes shot open. He sat up, a sliver of shock slipping onto his face as he carefully observed the area.

Realistically, he knew that you had gotten up out of your own accord. There were no signs of a struggle, and no one would be idiotic enough to steal you right from Blade's arm, especially in the midst of the Stellaron Hunters' base. If you had been kidnapped, he would know.

But that didn't stop the anxiety that gnawed at his heart. If you weren't here, then where would you be?

His question was soon answered, though, when a small glimmer of light caught his eye. The door leading out of your shared room was outlined in a soft glow, indicating a person on the other side.

Blade let out a sigh, almost laughing at his own foolishness.

Slowly, he rises from the covers, letting the blankets drop off his body. He rolls back the soreness in his body from yesterday's mission, massaging his shoulder as he heads off to the kitchen.

The bright lights leave dark spots in his vision, but he can still see the general shape of your body as you fill a cup of water. He rubbed at his eyes as he came up behind you, still drowsy with sleep.

Surprised, you turned at the sound of his footsteps, a cup of water held in your hands. "Blade? Sorry, did I wake you?"

Blade shook his head, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into your shoulder. He didn't say anything - he rarely needs to. You can hear the words he wants to say in his actions, in the way he pulls you tightly against him and refuses to let go.

Please, just… stay.

You hum knowingly as you feel him breathe into your skin, setting down your cup and reaching up to pet his head. His hair is soft against your fingers as he leans into you, closing his eyes as he immersed himself in you.

"Again?" you ask gently. Blade nods, propping his chin onto your shoulder. You leaned your head onto his, softly rubbing at his scalp with your fingers as the man hums in content. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you."

Blade shook his head. "It's fine. You're here now."

"I'm here," you agreed, turning in his embrace. You held his face in your hands, kissing at his face where tears would've been, had he ever cried. Blade let a smile slip onto his face for a moment, before kissing you on the forehead.

"Why did you leave?" he asks softly, but he doesn't really expect you to answer. You both know that he's aware of the reason, it being quite obvious in your hands.

"I was just getting a little water," you reply anyway. "I'll be back in bed in a few, so wait for me, okay?"

"I can wait here," Blade assures. "Do what you need to now. When we return, I won't be letting you go so easily."

You laugh at his statement, leaning against him with a crinkle in your eyes. "Alright, whatever you say, mister."

And Blade smiles back at you, only happy to have you back in his arms.

reblog w comments are appreciated !!

[ash5monster01]

hiiii !! I just wanted to say your writing is just brilliant, and I love your DPS works 😊 I was wondering if you could maybe do a Neil x fem!reader, with smut ? Only if u want to ofc and thank u!!! i hope u never stop posting xx

The Hot Doc

Pairing: older!Neil Perry x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, no use of protection, mentions of suicide, language, dirty talk, random hookup, setting is a hospital, reader is a doctor

Summary: Being a traveling Doctor meant meeting many new surgeons but on your latest visit, one happens to catch your eye.

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

You’re quite sure you’re losing your mind. You had done this a hundred times, travel from hospital to hospital describing a new technique you had created. A safer way to perform an extremely invasive surgery. Every presentation was the same with the same looking Doctors listening quietly. That is until today when a certain doe eyed Doctor wears a mischievous look instead of curiosity. It makes you stumble over your words more than once, a smug smile on his face like he knows he’s the reason.

“If you have any questions or are interested in learning more I’ll be around the hospital all day” you inform the crowd and in true hospital staff passion, no one applauds or flashes a smile as they stand and return to work. All except for one you’re trying hard to ignore as you pack up your research.

“Quite the presentation you have there” the sultry voice startles you, eyes bewildered as you look to see he still wears the same smug smile he had on before.

“Thank you” you grant him, head nodding even if what he had said wasn’t entirely a compliment.

“I’m Dr. Perry, head of cardio here” he gestures around the room but you know he means the hospital. Of course he was a heart surgeon.

“If that’s so, why did you sit through my 50 minute presentation about brain surgery?” you question, arms crossing as you watch him stand from his seat and start for the front of the room.

“I had read an article about you a few months ago. The female that changed the way we operate. Your researching was incredible and the picture not so bad too” he grins at you, a teasing smile as he brings up the very article you had cut and framed in your office back home. To think it had flattered him before you had even stepped foot here.

“That’s very kind of you Dr. Perry. I’m glad you found an interest as well, even if it’s not your speciality” you tell him and he nods once, eyes still washing over you like he’s trying to memorize every detail now that you’re here in person.

“No need to thank me, no reason to when I’ve taken more interest in you than the contents of the article itself” his honesty is admirable and you’re unable to fight the heavy blush that creeps across your cheeks. It’s then you realize the look he had been giving you the entire time was one of lust.

“I’m flattered Dr. Perry, truly” you tell him, suddenly unable to look into his eyes and he smiles as he leans against the table that holds your research. A large hand reaching out and lifting your chin to face him.

“Please, call me Neil” he requests and you gulp at the sound of his name. Something so simple for a handsome man like this. The look in his eyes showing he had lived quite the life up until this very moment. It’s the very look that has heat pooling in your stomach and knees pressing together.

“Okay Neil” you nod, smiling softly at him and Neil has to look away a moment, trying to calm his heart. He had never taken interest in a woman like you before. When he realized he had to accept this life curated for him the last thing he thought he would do is fall for someone who clearly enjoyed it. Who had made this life path for themselves. Falling for a girl who was also a Doctor felt like he was officially leaving behind the life he once wanted for himself.

“I’m not trying to be too forward but can I take you to dinner?” he suddenly asks and you chuckle, finding it took barely anything from him at all the develop a need for him as well. Since when were you easily so wrecked for a man.

“I’d love too, I really really would, but my flight leaves at seven. You only have me for at least another five hours” something flashes behind his eyes at your words, the suggestion your comment had portrayed despite not meaning too.

“Then I’m gonna be a little more forward. I’d really like to kiss you, preferably before my five hours are up” he says and you smile, adoring how a handsome and smart doctor like himself had become infatuated with you just from your talent and a half terrible picture of you. A picture that made you cringe out of all they could’ve used and he had instead fallen for you hundreds of miles away.

“How long do I have you Doctor?” you ask, knowing more than likely he had a few surgeries scheduled on the board. As much as it would turn you on to see him perform one you also figured what the hell did you have to lose. In five hours you’d be in another state, this hospital just another on the list. It really had been a long time and as long as he was free you were hoping to take advantage of it.

“Two hours until my next surgery, I’m technically supposed to be getting some rest in an on call room” he answers, eyeing the time on his watch and wishing he could freeze it so he could spend all of it with you.

“Care if I join you?” the suggestion makes his eyebrows jump in surprise, not expecting his blatant flirting and forwardness to actually get him what he had wanted. He’d never doubt Charlie and his tactics ever again.

“How much rest would I be getting?” he asks and it’s your turn to be too forward, a devious smile crossing your face as you grasp the side of his white coat.

“None” you tell him and he’s standing straight up in a second, collecting your things and hand falling into your own as he leads you out of the auditorium. He’d be a fool to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. So you follow along, heart thrumming from how confidently he leads you to somewhere more private.

Once in the on call room Neil scans the hallway, making sure no one saw before shutting to door and clicking the lock. It’s small, only two bunk beds and a window with a black out curtain, but for spontaneity it would work. When Neil sets down your stuff you can’t help but feel your nerves spark as his eyes drink you in. Finally alone and in private and you’d have to follow through on exactly what you had just suggested. Which meant standing your ground as he stepped closer and closer.

“You sure you want to do this?-” but your lips meeting his own and arms wrapping around his neck answers the question. Large hands land on your back, holding you close as he relishes in the feeling of your lips on his. You smell delightful and when your tongue darts past his lips, deems you taste even better. It’s better than he had imagined it when he first read your article, and even more than when he imagined it again when he heard you’d be coming here.

“Just so you know, this is out of character for me” you inform him as his lips begin to trail down your neck, your hands making quick work of shoving the white coat off his form and starting for the buttons on his shirt.

“Me too” he tells you, voice muffled in your neck but you can still hear the honesty vibrate into your skin. So you keep at the buttons while his own hands finds the zipper on the back of your dress. He pulls it down slowly, kissing more and more of your shoulder as the fabric is loosened around you. When you finish with the last button you allow the dress to drop, leaving you in the mismatched bra and panties you had put on this morning. If you had known you’d meet a hot doctor you might’ve thought ahead about that.

“Jesus even better than I imagined” he says, shrugging his own shirt off his shoulder and tie in the process. His broad and bare chest is on display, he isn’t covered in muscles but toned in a way that matters and that’s when your eyes catch the scare along his left pec. Slowly you reach out, fingers brushing over it softly.

“What’s this?” you curiously ask, eyebrows furrowed and real worry written across your face. Neil’s hand grasps your wrist, pressing your palm flat over where his heart beats.

“The only time I failed a heart” and realization dawns on you, a small gasp falling from your lips. Slowly he drags your hand up his chest, to his shoulder, then to the side of his head. “Had it been here I never would’ve become a heart surgeon”

“Oh God Neil, I’m so sorry” you tell him but he just smiles, long moved on from the mistakes of his past. If he had been successful in taking his own life all those years ago he never would’ve met you. Ironically enough had he gone for the head it would’ve been your surgery that could’ve saved him.

“It’s okay, I had just grazed my heart. A surgeon saved me and when my Dad was still adamant I go to school I knew exactly what to do” his smile isn’t genuine and you know a boy who dreamed of something else is still trapped in there. Yet he also doesn’t need to revisit the same conversation he probably had a hundred times before. Instead he needed a distraction and that’s why you kiss him.

Neil kisses back feverishly, loving that he hadn’t scared you off with his honestly. Instead you hold his head in your hands and kiss him in a way to say it’s okay life didn’t turn out for him. That he was still here with you and that had to be just as good. So he will take this moment and lock it in his heart forever. Smiling against your lips when your hands unbuckle his belt just as his own find the clasp of your bra. It’s a flurry of discarded clothing until your bare form is pressed against his own and he’s laying you on the twin bed.

“You’re so beautiful” he tells you, lips traveling down your chest and to your breasts. You whine when his lips latch around your nipple, his free hand groping your other breast and sliding down until it meets the heat between your legs. You feel him hum against you when he discovers how wet you already are.

“Mhm Neil” you whimper, you orgasm already building as his mouth switches between your breasts, fingers toying with your bundle of nerves. When his lips meet your own again he shoves a finger inside of you. You moan into his mouth and suddenly he’s harder than before, more turned on than he’s ever been in his life.

“What do you want baby?” he asks as he shoves another finger in, stretching you out and deliciously gliding against your walls. You flutter around him and he smiles again as he pumps his fingers in and out, desperate to be inside of you.

You don’t answer him and instead grip the base of his cock. It’s his turn to whine, not expecting the touch as you squeeze him lightly. He tries hard not to grind into your hand as you glide further and further up till you meet his tip. Angry and red and leaking with pre-cum. You needed him inside of you. Which is why you widen your legs, guiding him to where he brushes against your folds. He winces, trying his best to not finish before he even gets to feel what it’s like inside of you.

“Fuck me Neil” you tell him and he doesn’t waste a second, hands slipping out of your pussy, replacing it with the tip of his cock that instantly glistens from how wet you are. He drags himself through your folds, once, twice, and then the third pushes into you slowly.

You grip his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin as he sinks further and further inside. It seems it’ll never end then suddenly he’s flush against you, the tip of his cock nudging that perfect spot. You moan out as he waits for you to adjust. Pretty soon you’re nodding, indicating he needs to move. He pulls out halfway before plunging in again. The sensation has you seeing stars and once Neil finds his rhythm you’re done for. You cling against him as he rams into you over and over again. It seems as if your eyes have rolled to the back of your head. His lips are everywhere and the sensation is better than any you had experienced before.

It’s when his hand finds your clit, rubbing quickly, do you feel your orgasm wash over you with no warning. You clamp down on him tightly and his hips stutter, realizing what he’s just done. He fucks you through it, trying hard to last until you squeeze him just right again and he’s finishing as well. You smile wide as he continues to fuck you until he can’t anymore. Falling against you gently and not quite ready to pull out yet.

“Well that was new” you say after a moment, a soft smile covering your lips and Neil smiles back, kissing you gently.

“I hope I wasn’t too forward?” he asks and you snort out a laugh, unwillingly clenching around him again that makes him tense up. He just kisses you again anyway.

“I’d say you did everything right” you tell him and he smiles, noticing this is the happiest he had been in a very very long time.

“I hope I made it memorable for you?” he grins again, that same smug look back on his face and you push some of his brunette hair away so you can see him better. Close enough to finally see the happy and lively boy that lives within him.

“What did you want to be instead of a Doctor?” you ask and he smiles, hand falling on top of your own. The one that cradles his face like you don’t ever want to let him go.

“An actor, I was good too” he tells you and you smile, kissing him gently and keeping your forehead pressed against his own.

“I know I leave tonight but maybe I can call you from my next destination, get to know you better?” you suggest and he smiles so wide he’s certain his own heart is too. Thrumming against your skin and feeling close to someone for the first time in a long time.

“I’d like that a lot”

[aventurineswife]

Hey !!! How are you?? I love what you write so much so ure so talentedd !!

Also could u do an aventurine x reader where like they started dating not long ago and like aventurine notices self harm marks on reader’s arms ?? (If ure comfortable w/ that ofc)

“You Drew Stars Over My Scars”

Summary: In the early stages of your relationship, Aventurine notices scars on your arm. With quiet compassion and understanding, he addresses it gently, offering his support without judgment. As you share a vulnerable moment, he reassures you that he’s there for you, bringing lightheartedness and warmth to ease the conversation.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Emotional Support, Fluff and Angst, Healing.

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, References to past emotional struggles

A/N: HELLO!!! I'm doing alright and I hope you are doing alright as well!! Thank you for appreciating my work! I put my best effort into writing each character as accurately as possible, even while balancing my personal life, so your support means a lot to me! 🤭💖🫶 Don’t worry about your request—I’m comfortable with it. But for anyone struggling with something similar, please reach out to someone you trust completely. It may not seem like much, but sharing is better than keeping everything to yourself. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here! Don’t hesitate, and remember to love yourself more! ❤️

It was one of those rare, quiet evenings. Aventurine had cleared his typically packed schedule, something he was only too willing to do since the two of you had started dating. After a whirlwind start, tonight felt like a pause – a chance for him to simply be with you, away from the risks and wagers that often defined his world.

You sat beside him on the couch, your arm resting casually against his. Aventurine noticed a faint change in your body language – a hint of self-consciousness, a slight turn of your wrist. The faint movement caught his eye, and he saw them – the small, faded scars along your arm.

He glanced up, meeting your eyes with a gentle look, saying nothing at first, allowing you the space to choose whether to share or to stay silent. But his hand reached out, fingers brushing along your forearm. The gesture was soft, free of judgment or expectation, just a comforting presence.

"Can I ask about these?" Aventurine asked softly, his tone inviting but unintrusive.

You hesitated, not used to this level of openness, especially when it came to scars from a part of your past you were still trying to make peace with. You shifted slightly, averting your gaze, but Aventurine’s hand gently anchored you there, his thumb brushing softly over your wrist. His eyes, usually so full of confidence, held only a quiet, calming sincerity.

“It was… it’s something I went through,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “It’s… something I still struggle with, sometimes.”

Aventurine listened, his hand never leaving yours, his gentle touch reminding you that he was there, that he was listening and would wait as long as you needed to feel safe in sharing. After a beat, he spoke, his voice thoughtful and warm.

“You know,” he began softly, “I can’t pretend to know exactly what you’ve felt, what led you here. But… I do know about hiding things that hurt. I’ve got my own scars – maybe not the kind you can see,” he added, his smile faint but real, “but they’re there.”

The weight of his words settled around you, and you felt something shift – a wall you’d kept up out of habit, slowly lowering. You exhaled, feeling a bit of the tension release, as though you were finally in a space where you didn’t have to hide this part of yourself.

He leaned closer, his hand now holding yours firmly but gently, grounding you in the moment. "I'm here with you, okay? Whatever you’re going through, I want you to know it doesn’t make me see you any differently. You’re… important to me." The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, and it softened something deep within you.

“Thank you.” you said quietly, squeezing his hand back.

Aventurine tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “How about this – every time you feel like you’re slipping, like things get too much, you let me know? We can talk, or… not talk,” he said, a hint of his usual humor breaking through, “or we can find some ridiculous way to distract ourselves. I’ve got these mooncake cats I haven’t introduced you to yet.”

That earned a soft laugh from you, breaking the lingering tension in the room. He caught the sound, grinning as he pulled his phone out and showed you a photo of his silly, mooncake-shaped cats. He held it up with a playful smirk.

“These little guys reminds me every day not to take life too seriously. So, any time you need them, They're just a text away.” he added with a wink.

The lightheartedness lifted the weight from your heart, and you looked at Aventurine, grateful for his presence, his understanding, and his unspoken promise to be there, both in laughter and in the moments that were hard.

And as he pulled you into a gentle embrace, you felt it – the quiet assurance that, whatever scars you both carried, you didn’t have to bear them alone anymore.

[jazzyblusnowflake]

do u have any headcanons for Nuzi? sorry if you've already written about this before and I just didn't see it-

Oh boi anyone here into silly headcanons? XD ill put them under the cut just in case cuz i write a loooooooooooot lol

i usually just make headcanons as i go with my fics, its hard to think about for them specifically but here i go trying, hope you enjoy uwu

Some Nuzi Headcanons i got ùwú:

[for the drone universe ofc, some of my human HCs don't work in the drone universe sadly lmao]

considering this is at a time where they would become official or heck maybe the tragedy ends and they are happy together or something:

Uzi loves calling N "Puppy", sometimes she would also call him "Sunshine" or "Angel" but her & Ns fav would be "Puppy". however N usually doesn't call Uzi many nicknames other than "Zi" rarely- and maybe occasionally "Birdie" when they are more lovey dovey- he's more into pet names like "honey - darling - sweetheart - etc" and not much of a tease... although at times when they get a bit more spicy and he DOES want to tease- he could go towards names like "lil biscuit", "baby bat", "my lady" and etc but again, very rarely 6v6;;;;

they both had to download helpful content on how to flirt 🙄 although they caught on pretty quick lol.

N is subconsciously protective of Uzi, often curling his tail around her without realizing it, or stepping in front of her; but Uzi is consciously protective of N- especially when he's being bullied or degraded- she would cut off anyone's conversation if they were talking about N badly with something like "oh stick a fork in it J-" before changing the subject-

Uzi is actively a smartass sass mouth- she just never really had the confidence for standing up for herself- but with N she's grown to be a bit more confident in herself- and yet N has never seen her be aggressive to HIM lmao- and then when he sees how sometimes she absolutely drags some other drones he has to literally pick Uzi up from the scruff of her coat and tell her to please be nice XD

Uzi and N are absolutely, hopelessly touch and affection starved- this makes them get really cuddly as a way to recharge themselves emotionally. occasionally they just sit next to eachother without words and rub their heads against eachother like cats and sometimes Uzi just sits on his lap and randomly starts prepping his whole face with tini kisses- as if to say mine mine mine- and N is... well just sitting there wagging his tail like an excited puppy :D no words needed between them, just healthy and wholesome touching, cuddling and affection from eachother-...... i mean it could get spicy too- lmao 👀 cuz Uzi really loves taking off Ns hat for more comfort and just threading her hands in his hair- sometimes tugging gently to tilt his head for a more firm and heartfelt kissing and makeout sesh- they rarely get that needy but N happily reciprocates and his grip on Uzi's body/hips tightens pulling her flush against himself more-

at the beginning they are both a flustered mess doing or saying anything romantic but then Uzi started liking teasing and flustering N at any chance she could take. N is just too easy and too smitten for her.

N also occasionally gets the confidence and mood to be more forward and assertive and teasing Uzi over things he knows she's into and Uzi is absolutely into that shit- she's sat 😤

they do share oil sometimes through bites or kisses- but usually that's only when they feel extra frisky lmao-

Uzi gets easily embarrassed during intimate moments and since contact and touching easily discharges their power as sparks, Uzi often uh.... ends up with multiple soft-reboots or powering on and off which kinda overheats her body and CPU alot lmao-

they like drawing and listening to music together- Uzi actually likes watching N draw even if they look amateur and childish- she finds them extremely cute and hangs them up in her room when he draws for her <3

they did NOT start out sleeping next to eachother well. Uzi has nightmares a lot, and even without them she still moves around frantically and is just never in the same position when she wakes up, meanwhile N sleeps like a dead person, he hardly moves and he got used to the pose of crossing his arms on his chest so yeah... dead pose lmao. this made him get kicked alot or shoved in the slot between the bed and wall often- [if he didn't sleep on the other side and just straight up get kicked off the bed anyway]😭. even at times when he decided they could sleep hanging from their tails Uzi often still found herself in the middle of the night hanging haphazardly, limbs and wings in every direction and clothes riding down which made N almost start laughing when he woke up seeing her like this 😭😭😭. in the end one of the ways they ended up making Uzi sleep alot better was cuddling. N would just hold Uzi close, if hanging he would put his wings around them. Uzi would resist and push against him alot at first but slowly after time her nightmares subdued and she felt calmer sleeping at night.... also they put a cork or something on Ns tail when they sleep lol-

All drones, disassembly or worker, can make their cores whirr in a purring noise, its just that its louder for disassemblers, the noise of Ns core helps Uzi relax <3

Uzi can lift N very easily, straight up on her shoulder even.... and somehow N is very turned on by this as she could easily carry him around bridal style if need be- esp if she gets jealous of N interacting with others and just throws him over her shoulder and leaves- or uh.... yknow, if Ns hurt or something, yep 6x6;;;

Uzi is also turned on by the fact that N is so much bigger than her. they be casually sitting and inspecting eachothers hands and Uzi's is smaller and she just blushes fervently imagining all the things she wants his hands and claws to do to her.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND thats about all i can think of atm without spoiling much of my own future ideas lol, hope it wasn't too annoying, but i really enjoyed writing this uwu<3

hope yall enjoyed it too if you made it til here :p

i diiiiid wanna include some nsfw hcs too but im gonna keep this ask as sfw as possible for now. 😇 those would be nsfw specific hcs anyway lmao

[elizais]

okok may i request headcanons/drabbles on bsd boys (pref dazai, chuuya, jouno, tecchou, fyodor, tachihara, sigma, nikolai??) with a gf who has glasses but is almost blind without them? like velma in scooby doo, she needs her glasses and panics when she fr can't find them? thank you so much with glitters and sparkles!!

ofc! i'll split this into 2/3 parts though for the boys u asked for if any1 wants more!!

when their gf needs glasses (and they get lost)

like the request!! drabbles for each. featuring: dazai, chuuya, fyodor!! more parts will come warnings: dazai being a shit (lovingly),, drabbles dividers by @cafekitsune мышь = mouse (google translate so idk)

"osamu?" she called out, concern slightly tinting her voice. "yes, bella? everything alright?" he responded, on the other side of the bathroom door.

"yes, well, no but-" she stumbled over her words, opening the door as she was covered in a fluffy towel. he waited for her to catch her breath, knowing what she was missing. taking in a deep breath, "i can't find my glasses."

she didn't tend to lose her glasses, only taking them off for sleeping, showering and getting changed. very rarely having any other reason to do so. osamu chuckled at her, squinting her eyes to make out his facial expression. "have you seen them?" she asked him, walking towards her bedroom to put on clothes.

"i'll look now, dear." he smiled, knowing he placed them on a shelf she cannot reach. in his defence, he wanted her to ask him for help! she was so self sufficient after all..

she walked out of the bedroom, hitting her hip on the corner of a table slightly. "my, my.. you really need those glasses!" he teased as he ruffled her hair. an unimpressed look was plastered over her face, replacing her glasses. "yes, i do, osamu!". she ran a hand through her hair, trying to calm herself down.

"do you know where you last took them off?" he asked, of course he knew that she left them on the end table outside the bathroom. thats where he picked them up. she nodded her head, pointing to the end table that did not have the glasses.

he took her hand in his, suddenly feeling bad for what he had done. it was not worth seeing her so stressed out over some glasses. he walked her into the office room.

she didn't seem to realise it was osamu who had moved her glasses, so, to stay in her good books he looked around with her. when her back was turned, he took the glasses off of the shelf and put them on the desk beneath it.

"oh, darling! here they are!" he smiled as you turned around. he handed them to her and was pleased to see her smile back. "was it you, 'samu?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

he nodded slowly. she clicked her tongue before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

chuuya walked into the apartment, usually being greeted with a hug and a kiss but not today. it was too early for her to be asleep, he wandered where she was before he heard a frustrated groan.

"doll?" he spoke, wondering what was wrong. he heard her gasp as she ran into the front room to him. she greeted him with a hug quickly, throwing herself against him - chuuya having to catch her.

"hey chuu.." she kissed his cheek. she didn't want to have her worries affect him but she needed help. he gently placed her down and immediately notice the absence of her glasses.

"well you don't have to look at me like that." he sarcastically remarked as he pretended to be annoyed. he laughed at her squinting eyes. "did you lose your specs?" he asked.

"don't call them that, you geek!" she smacked him on the bicep gently before sighing, "yeah."

he pretended to wince in pain, holding the spot she hit.

"well i was going to help you, but i don't think you deserve to see now!" he joked. "where did you last have them, princess?" he kissed her forehead before adding in his pet name for her.

"i was taking a nap on the couch, and i think i put them either on the armrest by my head or on the coffee table." she exasperatedly exclaimed, throwing an arm in the direction of the living room.

chuuya instantly put together a theory, he walked over, hearing her footsteps behind him. she must have knocked them off from wherever they were in her sleep.

he activated his ability and touched the couch, letting it float up a metre or so. he crouched down and grabbed the glasses and slowly lowered the couch. she wasn't able to see the specifics of what happened but saw him walk towards her with a smug look on his face.

"here you go, doll." he held out the glasses, but before she could grab them he let them float to the ceiling. "costs a kiss to get them back!" he flicked her forehead.

she sighed, "i suppose i'll have to pay for another pair then.." she joked, earning an exaggerated shocked look from chuuya. she kissed his lips softly and caught the glasses as he lowered them.

fyodor was sat in his office, typing away on his computer in serious concentration.

in another room, he heard objects being moved around. last he checked, his partner was asleep. he heard her footsteps near before the door to his office opened.

spinning around in his chair, "мышь, is something troubling you?" he asked, receiving a small nod in response. "i can't find my glasses, my head hurts because i'm squinting, i feel gross, and i'm cold." she rattled off.

"where did you take them off, dear?" he queried. she shrugged. "i fell asleep on you when you were researching and woke up in our bed. thank you for taking me to the bed but i don't know where i put them!!" she gestured wildly, nervously cracking her fingers before he stood up.

he held her hands so she would stop with her nervous tic, "go take a shower love, and stop squinting. i will find them if it stresses you out so much." he hummed, softly rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles.

she went to the bathroom, fyodor was racking his brain for when she took them off. he thought she possibly left them in the car, he shuddered at the thought of going out in the cold weather to check the car. but, he put on his shoes and grabbed his coat.

before touching the door handle, he thought he is better to put his ushanka on. not wanting his head to be cold either.

walking towards the office she fell asleep in his arms on top of the chair in, he lifted up his ushanka. a pair of glasses with a few traces of fluff on them from the hat sat on the table.

letting out a sigh of relief as he didn't have to go out in the cold, he opted not to tell you it was his fault you couldn't spot your glasses.

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

"Protect what you regret"

I actually had this idea reinforced by my brain when it kept telling me mean stuff (one of those weeks u know :/ )

tw mental breakdown, anxiety, wukong being wukong, angst to happy ending, devotion, pls dont expect it to be good ok, idk shi about story telling but i'll do my best here, shits long again

This would be one of the breaking points for Ane, being stressed about having to adapt in a fictional world with no logical sense, survive the millions of fucking yaoguai's who only see her as a easy snack and dealing with a rude ass monkey that had the ego bigger than a mountain (hehe)

That and missing her family, feeling the more they go into this path the more fruitless it becomes for her. Would she even make it to the final point of their travel or die in the hands of monsters

Her anxiety was getting her to the point she couldn't sleep, dreams of past encounters would jump back into her memory and torment her.

Wukong starts to take notice of how much quiet she has become, note that in this point of the story Wukong considers Ane a friend he can annoy and tease in the asshole way (not romance yet)

So he goes and does what he does best, annoy her until she tells him what's up with her, however.....the way that he approached the situation althought it did get her to spill the beans it happen in way that was.... he kinda disregarded her feelings a bit and well

It didn't go well. His name calling made her lose it and she screamed her frustrations at him, insulting him in both her languages, not letting him even speak as she screamed her anger at him

This was new to him, usually she would just get cranky at him which would just amuse him, finding her distress funny but she would later just let it go (not really she just would shut up about it, she tends to hold grudge but she knew she couldn't afford to so she just left it there)

She was so done with his bullshit that she couldn't care less whether her words hurted him, the most shocking part was when even after he tried to dismiss her words she didn't hesitate.

That's right folks the monke got slapped.

It didn't hurt him ofc but the shock was too big. His eyes wide doing nothing as she continued screaming at him, daring him to hit her, telling him she couldn't care less if she killed her in the spot. Here sandy was already prepping himself in case wukong DID act up but... he didn't.

Her eyes were probably the most hurtful part for wukong because for once he really noticed the emotion in them...Anger, fear, sadness, he could see them all around her irises, her body language, her words.

Even after she stomped away as he could only watch, once he got over his shock his brows furrowed, his fist clenched and the ground shaked, letting a loud growl he jumped away not hearing the rest of the crew call to him as he flew with his cloud away.

Sandy looked for Ane while pigsy stayed with the monk, Tang watching in worry as not one but two of his disciples went off their ways.

It was that time away when Wukong started to recall the fight she had with her and started to reflect on himself and ironically it was Ane's anger that started to make him realize his feelings for her, it was her trying to avoid him after the fight that it made him want her closure, to complain to him, to look at him again....to please make those eyes that hold in her soul to look at him and forgive him

Its when the romance started, him trying everything to prove to her that he can be better, that he can change if she lets him in into her heart, he will beg if he must

He promises that she'll never have to feel fear again as he'll be her protector, promising her that if ever any of her hair strands is even touched he will burn down everything for her. To please smile at him again for not he would feel his heart crumble

It took Ane longer to figure out her own feelings and let her wall crumble but hey it worked didn't it <33

[into-deepspace]

Hello! Hope you're having a great day!

May I request for Rafayel's reaction when MC comes out as non-binary? It's something that's never left my head since I started playing lnds. I can't help but worry if it'd change things for him even though I know it won't (insecurity did a number on me🥹). What if MC wanted to present themes as masc/femme? How would he react?

Sorry if this is too long and complicated and I understand if you don't want to write for this but if you do write it it'd mean the world to me. Thank you for reading this ask🌸🌸

aaa of course!!! dw it wasn't long or complicated at all! i had a lot of fun writing this, and i rlly hope i did rafayel justice here <33 i feel like it ended awkwardly but ah what can u do. anywayyyy:

as you are

rafayel/mc • nonbinary mc • 1.6k • ao3 link requests open, reblogs appreciated! mild hurt/comfort || coming out || tooth-rotting fluff || established relationship

MC stares at themselves in the mirror fixing their hair nervously. In twenty minutes, they’re meeting Rafayel at a cafe, one of their favourites. They’d made the plans several days ago, and have been nervously thinking through every possibility ever since. After all, coming out, no matter who it’s to, is nerve wracking.

“I need to talk to you,” they’d sent him, late in the evening when both of them really should have been asleep. Despite the late hour, typing bubbles immediately popped up from Rafayel’s end. He sends a sticker of a distressed yellow bird, then a message.

Rafayel, 11:48 PM are u breaking up with me :(

A bit frantic, MC typed back a quick response. Of course Rafayel, ever dramatic, would assume the worst.

MC, 11:48 PM No omg?

Rafayel, 11:48 PM DUN SCARE ME LIKE THAT THEN???? Those are FIGHTING WORDS. fighting words i tell u!!

MC sighed, but couldn't help but laugh a bit. It was never a dull moment with him around, one of the things they have always loved about him. They explained that no, they're not breaking up with him, but they did have something a little more serious they needed to talk with him about.

Rafayel, 12:03 AM okayyyy spill the beans cutie wait no serious I Am Prepared To Listen To Your Words. Please Begin.

MC, 12:04 AM Actually, i wanted to talk in person Can we meet @ our usual cafe on saturday

They waited nervously for Rafayel's response, picking at a stray thread in their blanket. But as usual, they had nothing to worry about

Rafayel, 12:05 AM ofc ofc ill buy u a tea and a cake and we can talk <3

They couldn't help but smile at their phone. He was always so sweet, so ready to adjust and accommodate. They just hope he’ll be the same way about this new revelation.

Now, MC has been going by their chosen name for a long while, so long that most people don’t even know the name they were given at birth. They’ve always presented a little more [femme/masc] than their peers, and Rafayel didn’t seem to mind any of that. If anything, he encouraged it, saying that the way they expressed themselves was art in it of itself. But would this, their coming out, be a piece of the puzzle that he wasn’t okay with?

MC sighs, smoothing their clothes one last time and telling themselves that they really do need to get going. Sitting here and stewing in their anxieties isn’t going to make anything better. They grab their bike helmet and make their way down to the street, setting off.

An uneventful drive later, they arrive at the cafe and park, fixing their hair in their phone camera after they take their helmet off. It seems Rafayel hasn’t arrived yet, which means they can go in and order for themselves. Usually, they’re fine with Rafayel paying for their treats, but what if he’s upset this time? What if he realizes he’s spent money on someone he can’t accept.

Just as they’re pulling their card from their wallet to pay for their drink and pastry, an arm wraps around their waist and lips press against their cheek, startling them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rafayel says, tone light and joking as he slips their wallet from their hands, tucking it back into their pocket. Ignoring their protests, he turns to the person at the register. “Add a vanilla iced coffee to that please, with… hm, six sugars.” MC can only watch as his drink is added to the total and he slots his card into the reader, looking pleased with himself.

Rafayel takes their hand and walks them over to a table by the window, pulling out their chair for them with a dramatic flourish. Normally, MC would laugh at his antics, but they’re too nervous right now to manage anything more than a tight smile. Rafayel, of course, notices right away.

“What’s wrong, cutie?” he asks, taking their hands as he kneels in front of their chair. MC takes a shaky breath, trying to school their expression into something at least neutral.

“I’m okay,” they say. “I promise.” For a moment, Rafayel tilts his head and searches their face. Then, with a sigh, he stands, pressing a kiss to their knuckles as he does.

“Okay,” he smiles. “We’ll talk once you’ve got something tasty to keep you company, okay?” This prompts a smile, a little more real this time, from MC.

“Okay,” they whisper.

Ever the gentleman, Rafayel goes to retrieve their order, tasting his own drink before adding two more pumps of sugary syrup to it and sprinkling cinnamon across the top. He comes back to their table, setting MC’s portion in front of them. They taste their own drink and nod in satisfaction, cutting a piece of their pastry to place into their mouth.

“Do you want some?” they ask, offering a forkful to Rafayel. With an easy smile, he waves away their question.

“Nah,” he says. “This here is sweet enough.” He shakes his drink, the ice in it rattling as specks of cinnamon swirl around. MC nods, taking the bite for themselves.

They let themselves savor the moment for a bit before speaking. After all, they don’t know if this is something they’ll ever have again. They make their way about halfway through the pastry before they take another long sip of their drink and fold their hands in their lap.

“I have something I need to tell you,” they say, before they can lose their resolve. “...Please don’t be upset with me.” Rafayel smiles, reaching across the table with his palm up, gesturing for their hand. MC obliges, tangling their fingers together, and Rafayel squeezes reassuringly.

“I won’t be,” he promises. “You can tell me anything. I swear.”

MC takes a deep breath. They appreciate that he’s putting his usual jokes and quips aside, sensing the nervous gravity of the moment, but it almost makes them even more anxious. Biting their lip, MC decides it’s better to rip the metaphorical band-aid off in one go.

“I’m nonbinary,” they say simply. “And I’m sorry I’ve been keeping this from you.”

Rafayel blinks for a moment, silent. MC feels their eyes sting.

“What?”

“Uh.” Out of all the scenarios they’d mentally prepared for, this wasn’t one of them. “You know,” they begin, “like, I’m not a guy, but I’m also not a girl. It’s-”

“No, I know what nonbinary means, silly,” Rafayel grins. “Why would you ever think I’d be upset at you over this?” MC feels the sting in their eyes become welling moisture, and Rafayel scrambles to drag his chair around to their side of the table and pull them into a tight embrace.

“I thought you were gonna tell me that you were moving away, or that you lost your job or something!” he says, rocking them back and forth, gently, slowly. With a shaky breath, MC tucks their face into Rafayel’s shoulder, smiling to themselves. But he’s not done, continuing as he pulls them tighter.

“And if you come to me tomorrow and say you feel some other way, or that you want to change your name or buy new clothes or change your hair, that’s okay! MC, I love you no matter what. I promise, something like this is never ever going to come between me and you.” They’re full on sobbing now, the relief that comes with acceptance and the lovely promises spilling from Rafayel’s lips making all sorts of emotions surge in their chest.

Rafayel pulls back, cupping their face with one hand and wiping their tears away with the other. He smiles, a radiant and loving thing, and MC can’t help but give a breathy, relieved laugh as he leans in to place light little kisses along their cheeks.

“I don’t know why I was so nervous,” MC admits. “You never did anything to make me worried about this.” Rafayel shrugs.

“It’s a big thing to tell someone,” he says. “I’m proud of you. I know this took a lot.”

“It really did,” MC acknowledges. Rafayel ruffles their hair affectionately before scooting his chair back over to his side, keeping one of MC’s hands in his own.

“Okay, okay,” he says, buzzing with energy now that the serious moment is waning. “Finish your pastry and then we can go shopping.” MC blinks, surprised.

“We weren’t planning on going-”

“Uh-uh!” Rafayel cuts in, waving a hand in their face and startling a laugh from them. “Shhhh, we’re going shopping. You wanna go buy pretty things with me soooo bad. You would never think of saying no to this lovely face of mine.”

“Oh, my god,” MC laughs, nearly dropping their fork. “You’re so dramatic.” In response, Rafayel gives a pleased smile and makes a motion as if flicking hair behind his shoulder. MC shakes their head good naturedly, taking another bite of their pastry.

They do, in fact, end up out in the shops, and Rayafel buys them a jacket they’ve been eyeing for a long while. The two of them swing their intertwined hands between them as they walk, enjoying each others’ presence. It’s late in the evening by the time they decide to part ways, and even then, Rafayel convinces MC to sleep over at his house.

A couple hours later, laying in bed, MC watches Rafayel’s sleeping face with a soft smile. They never thought they’d be lucky enough for a relationship like this.