#basically every one of their conversations

[stellamarielu]

blurred lines

joel miller x female reader

summary: you ask your dad’s best friend to give you a ride home after a night out, which leads to you teasing him in the backseat of his truck as he watches you in the rearview mirror.

content: nsfw, 18+, cursing, dbf!joel, no outbreak!au, mentions of alcohol consumption, joel being chivalrous, but also being a down bad freak, heavy voyeurism, female masturbation, praise kink out the wahzoo, basically joel just watches you finger fuck yourself in the backseat of his truck

author’s note: listen i’m no better than the rest of you, i’ll fold for a dbf!joel miller fic. i’m sorry to all the joel miller/pedro pascal girlies for having to deal with my ass infiltrating your fandom BUT i come bearing gifts of filthy, depraved smut!!!

—

You were standing out on the curb with your arms crossed over your chest. The faint music from the bar behind you filled your ears and the February wind had goosebumps raising on your skin. You were beginning to regret your decision to forgo a jacket. The choice felt right when you were bar hopping earlier, free from lugging around an extra layer of clothing, but now it was coming back to bite you in the ass as you stood out in the cold clad only in a skimpy little dress.

Thankfully you didn’t have to wait long as you watched a familiar truck pull up in front of you.

Joel Miller’s dark grey pickup came sliding up on the street and you could see the man behind the wheel smiling through the driver’s side window, amused at your poor choice in inadequate clothing. 

Without missing a beat, you pulled on the handle of the door behind him, sliding to the middle of the spacious backseat. 

“What the hell are you doin’ kid?” His voice was a low chuckle as he turned his head back to look at you. 

“You know you can sit in the front? Pretty sure you’re old enough.” He sounded entertained as his eyes met yours.

“It’s more fun this way.” You were giggling out.

“It’s like we’re in an uber.” You were leaning forward with your eyes still on him, your chest practically falling out of your dress. 

Joel was fighting with himself not to let his eyes wander to your exposed skin when he decided to face forward again. 

Jesus you were hardly wearing any clothes. He was starting to question why he had agreed to come pick you up in the first place. Oh yeah, it’s because his dumbass made a comment weeks ago about being able to give you a ride if you were ever too drunk to drive. And judging by the way your words were falling from your lips in a carefree giggle and how your body was folded forward over the middle console of his truck, you were definitely in no shape to drive.

You were in college and still living with your dad in an effort to save up some cash. Sure, it was nice not to worry about rent, but living under your father’s roof came with its downfalls– like him being far too aware of your whereabouts.

That’s when you and Joel shared a whispered conversation about him being there if you ever needed a hand sneaking around your dad’s constant need to be in your business.

He had joked about being your designated driver if you ever needed one, and tonight after a few vodka sodas and your friends not wanting to end their fun, you had taken him up on his offer. It was no surprise that he agreed to come get you, Joel was always so nice to you– a perfect gentleman.

You met him last year after him and your dad worked on the same construction site. Their friendship started with shared beers after work and quickly turned into Joel and his daughter coming to your house every weekend for Sunday night football and dinner. Your two families had gotten pretty close, and you began to look forward to seeing Joel every week.

He was a friendly guy, always cracking jokes and drumming up conversation, not to mention he was incredibly attractive. In fact, you had developed quite the little crush on him. You would act calm, cool, and collected every time you spoke with him, only to go on losing sleep at night thinking about how dreamy he was. It was just a bit of harmless fun, a teeny tiny unrequited crush on your dad's best friend. That was until you caught him watching you a few months ago, like really watching you.

If it had been anyone else you might’ve found it creepy, but it was Joel. Joel who was undeniably single, and funny, and handsome, and older. Joel who was raking his eyes down your body inch by inch when you had skipped downstairs in the world’s tiniest pajama shorts and an equally teasing crop top. You weren’t expecting to see him standing in your kitchen that early on a Tuesday morning yet there he was, gawking at your ass cheeks that couldn’t be covered by the barely-there material of your shorts. He saw you watching him as he stared at you. He didn’t even try to hide it. Both of you frozen in your kitchen and the tension palpable before your dad came into the room muttering something about his car not starting and Joel giving him a ride. 

After that day your little crush on Joel Miller turned into a full-blown obsession.

You wanted to have his eyes on you like that again. You dreamed about him staring at you. The scenarios that you conjured up about him late at night could land you in the loony bin, but you didn’t care. This new desperation to fulfill the fantasies plaguing your brain were all you could think about, and you were determined to do something about it. 

“I don’t understand how you’re wearin’ that when it’s so cold outside.” Joel’s eyes were staring straight ahead as he began to drive you home, pulling his car back onto the road and moving with the traffic on the busy street.

“Well you’ve obviously never been a girl on 6th street on a Saturday night.” You were still leaning forward in your seat making sure to push your cleavage together with your arms now that you knew he was looking at your outfit.

“Obviously.” He was mocking you with his response, eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror. 

“What’s Sarah up to tonight?”

Your question was harmless as you leaned back in your seat peering out the window and admiring the bright lights of the city around you. 

“She’s staying over at a friend’s house.” Joel’s eyes were back on the road, focused on the route back to your house.

“Probably for the best, don’t want her knowing I’m picking up your drunk ass at 2am.” 

You were shooting him a glare that he couldn’t see while he chuckled under his breath. 

“Don’t need you lookin’ like a bad influence.” He was peeking at you through the mirror again, a smirk on his lips. 

“Oh please, I’m an angel.”

You were responding in a sugary sweet voice, your eyes holding as much innocence as you could muster, only drawing more attention to the way your tits were pushed up against your arms. 

It was such a sinful image, one that Joel let his eyes linger on for a little too long as he stared at you through the mirror. 

You were addicted to the way he was looking at you.

Quite frankly, you were addicted to everything about him.

You could almost feel the liquid courage still coursing through your veins as you relaxed against the leather seat, arching your back slightly and looking up at him through your lashes.

“You could just take me back to your place.” Your voice was hushed as you watched Joel’s expression fill with confusion, his eyes finding the road again. 

“And why on earth would I do that?” He may have been confused but his voice remained playful as he questioned you.  

“Because maybe I want you to finally do something about that wandering eye of yours.” 

There it was– the words you had been holding back for months. I see the way you look at me, I’m into it, and I want you to fuck me. 

“Don’t know what your talkin’ about angel.”

His voice was mocking as he used the title you had given yourself moments ago. He was tip toeing closer to the blurred line of whatever unspoken tension had been building between the two of you.

Oh, game on. If he wanted to tease you, two could play at that game. 

“C’mon Mr. Miller I know you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

The use of his surname had Joel’s eyes snapping up to the mirror to meet your gaze. As soon as his eyes were on yours, he regretted it. You looked downright drunk, but not from whatever alcohol was left in your system– no, you were drunk off desire. For him. 

“I know you like to watch...” The words were leaving your lips in a disgustingly sweet tone and your hand was ghosting over your chest. 

“Don’t.” His voice was stern as he spoke, but his eyes were still on yours in the mirror all big and needy, telling an entirely different story. 

“Don’t what?” 

Your hands were teasing the lowcut neckline of your dress as you spoke. 

“Shouldn’t you be concentrating on the road? You seem a little distracted.” The flirtatious words falling from your lips worked in tandem with your hands that were now cupping your breasts and trailing down your torso.

You searched for his eyes in the rearview mirror again, only now they were focused ahead instead of on you. 

“You’re drunk, I’m not doin’ this with you right now.”

Oh so he wanted to parade around on his high horse? Not happening.

“I’m not drunk. I had a few drinks hours ago. I’m of sound mind Mr. Miller.”

There it was again, Mr. Miller. You had never called him that before, not once. But now you were sitting in the backseat of his truck with your hands all over your body saying it over and over again and he thought he was going to combust. 

“And what if I hadn’t been drinking tonight? Then would you watch me do this.” 

What little alcohol that was left metabolizing in your body must’ve given you enough confidence to spread your legs, the movement hiking your dress all the way up your thighs. You hand was sliding down your body only to stop when it found the thin material of your lace panties.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ.” Joel was groaning out when his eyes flickered to the mirror to watch you all spread out in his backseat like that. 

“Knew you liked to watch.” You were whispering as your fingertips danced at the hem of your underwear. 

“What do you want me to do?” You were teasing as you let your fingers wander closer to your core, legs still wide open.

“Want me to stop Mr. Miller?”

You could see the way his hands were gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was squeezing. 

He was holding on as tight as humanly possible while he debated his next move. Did he get serious and put a stop to this, or did he let himself have a little bit of fun and surrender to the pretty young thing all needy in his backseat. 

“Want you to keep touchin’ yourself angel.” His voice was gruff, muddled with lust and bad decisions as he finally gave in to temptation.

You hummed out a quiet moan of victory as your hand met the wetness of your panties, your fingertips tracing up and down your clothed center. 

Joel’s eyes were a constant boomerang going back and forth between the road ahead of him and the reflection of you playing out in the mirror above him.

He knew it was wrong to let you do this right now. He was the older more mature one in the situation, he should be telling you to stop. Only he couldn’t. He had been fighting himself on this for far too long. The once thick rope that was holding him back from giving into his desire had been thinning since that morning months ago when you had your ass on display for him before 8:30 in the morning. The restraint had become a single, tiny strand keeping him from pouncing on you and now that you were in his backseat with your hands between your legs, he had given up entirely, cutting the string with his own pair of shiny, perverted scissors. 

“C’mon baby, keep goin’.” He was encouraging your filthy movements when your eyes met each other in the rearview mirror.

His brows were furrowed and the look in his eyes was completely primal. That glare alone made you pull your panties to the side, giving him a glimpse of your slit, all swollen and glistening– excited by the spontaneity of being half naked in the back of his truck.

“Fuck.” The groan that fell from his lips had you wanting to shove two fingers as deep into you as they could possibly go, but instead you decided to spread your arousal over your opening, taking your time and teasing the man sitting in front of you. 

“I always think about you Joel.” Your voice was timid now as you preened underneath your own fingers.

“Think about you when I’m touching myself.” The words were a breathless hum as your fingertips found your clit, rubbing gentle circles over it and allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the sensation.

“That right baby?” You could tell Joel was holding onto what little composure he had left as he continued to prompt your self indulgence. 

“Show me” 

Each time his eyes found the mirror again you could feel the heat spreading throughout your body. 

“Show me what you like. Show me what feels good.” 

Fuck. You had a feeling Joel would be good with his mouth, but you didn’t anticipate him being this good with his words. The filthy things he was saying were driving you further into a place of utter insanity. He had you on the edge of going feral as you nearly forgot you were in the backseat of his car, your fingers working faster on the bundle of nerves at your center.

The moans bubbling out of your throat were evidence of your dazed headspace and you weren’t sure what felt better; the way your fingers were stroking your clit or knowing that Joel was watching you, his dick probably rock solid in his jeans.

The idea of him being turned on was enough to have the pressure coiling inside your core, but you needed more. You ached to feel some sort of stretch, some semblance of fullness. You needed something inside of you, and if it couldn’t be Joel, you would do it yourself. Without a second thought you slipped two fingers into your entrance, slowly dragging them in and out.

A low grunt left Joel’s lips, and you could see one of his hands leave the steering wheel and fall into his lap as he adjusted himself through the denim holding back his growing erection.  

“That feel good sweetheart? Nice and slow like that?” His voice was strained, and his eyes were darting between the windshield and your reflection. 

“So good. Wish it was you instead.”

Oh that was it. He had officially lost it upon hearing those words. 

Shit, he wished he had taken you up on your offer to go back to his place. He also wished you hadn’t been drinking tonight. He reminded himself that although you claimed sobriety, he wouldn’t be able to live with it if he did something he couldn’t take back and you regretted it tomorrow.

So, for now, as deprived and questionably moral as it was, he would just let you finger yourself while he sat back and watched. You were an adult that could make your own decisions to possibly regret in the morning; and who was it hurting if he gave you a few words of encouragement? 

“I know baby, but just keep playin’ with yourself.” 

His voice was reinforcing your already overwhelming pleasure as you arched your fingers, hitting just the right spot. That familiar curl mixed with the featherlight touch still circling your clit had you bracing yourself for the orgasm that you knew would be hitting any minute.  

“Doin’ so good.” His voice was a whisper from the front seat and you could’ve sworn he was on the verge of whimpering. 

“Gonna make yourself come all over my backseat- shit.” He was mumbling out his words and you could practically hear the sexual frustration building within them. 

Both of you were losing control and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about your surroundings as Joel’s truck was coming to an abrupt stop. 

You were home.

He was careful to park on the curb a little further from his usual spot as he quickly took the keys out of the ignition and shut off his headlights. You had never been so thankful for the cover of nightfall and the invention of tinted windows. 

“C’mon baby show me how you come, wanna see it.”

Joel was now leaning his body over the console to face you. Finally getting to see you all spread open before his very eyes instead of a reflection. The bulge in his pants grew tenfold at the sight; Your dress was bunched at your waist, your cheeks hot and pink, your eyes were fighting to stay open, and your delicate little hands were working overtime between your legs. Watching you like that had Joel ready to finish in his pants like a teenage boy.

“Come back here.” You were all but begging through moans as you kept working to bring yourself to the edge of release.

You wanted him to join you, to use his fingers instead of yours, or his dick– you’d take whatever you could get right now, and you wanted it all. 

“No sweetheart, not tonight.” He was refusing your invitation, and your feelings might’ve been hurt if it weren’t for the way he reached out and placed his hand right above your knee.

He was spreading your legs further apart with his grasp on your leg and rubbing his thumb back and forth on your lower thigh. His gentle touch had you seeing stars.

“Let go baby.” His eyes were burning into you as he watched your fingers carefully curling at the knuckle with each thrust. Your moans were incoherent as the tension pulling inside your body threatened to snap. 

“I need it, show me.” 

Joel’s words were carrying you to the finish line as your chest heaved. 

“Give it to me sweetheart.” With his hand caressing the soft flesh of your thigh and his eyes watching your every move, you came apart for him. Profanities and moans spilled from your mouth as your release washed over you. 

You kept your eyes screwed shut for a few seconds as you forced yourself to take a handful of long deep breaths working your way down from your high. 

As soon as your eyes opened, you were met with Joel’s stare. His pupils were dilated and you could see his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as you raised your fingers to your lips.

If you were doing this, you were ending it with a bang. 

You opened your mouth just enough to slip your index and pointer finger inside, dramatically sucking them clean before pulling them back out.

“Fuck kid.” He groaned in defeat as his eyes remained glued on your perfectly pouted lips. 

“You better get inside.” He was breaking his trance on your mouth and turning back around to start his car back up like nothing ever happened.

“Are you serious?”

You were shocked at his ability to hold it together, knowing that his dick must be throbbing in his jeans at this point. You were more than happy to solve that problem if he’d just let you, but it seemed as though he was ready to kick you out of his tuck without so much as another glance in your direction.

“I don’t know how much you’ve had to drink tonight, can’t trust your decision-making skills.” 

“Oh, but you could watch me do that and it didn’t interfere with your moral compass?” 

“Go.” He was motioning you out of the car with a tilt of his head and you could read the painfully amused expression on his face through the rearview mirror– the very mirror that had just bared witness to the corrupt scene of you and Joel losing all self-control.

“Fine.” You were chuckling as you pulled your dress back down your thighs and scooting toward the exit, pulling the handle and plopping out onto the concrete street.

“Have a good night… blue balls.” You were standing outside the truck and forcefully shutting the door to his backseat. The last two words leaving your lips in a giggle as you waved goodbye to Joel. 

Joel just watched as you skipped up to your front door. He was in big trouble, huge fucking trouble. There was no way he’d be able to look at you again, let alone be in the same room as you.

After tonight, he wouldn't be able to trust himself around you. The next time your eyes met his he'd have no choice but to run his hands all over your perfect little body. 

And tomorrow was Sunday night football at your place.

He was screwed.

my masterlist

[luvergirl-866]

i don’t see what anyone could see in anyone else (but you)

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 6.0k

c/w - fluff, they’re both annoying and sassy, p has adhd highkey (twin)

a/n - inspired by the let’s be honest p annoying a video. i just love the girlfriends but best friends first dynamic iykwim 😣. also took a lot of inspo from some tiktok lives 🩷 anyway yeah this is stupid and late for v day but better than nothing!!

It has been a good week.

On Sunday, Azzi made it a point to spend the day getting ahead on schoolwork as much as she could. Coach had been hinting at a grueling upcoming practice week and Azzi knows herself well enough to know she’d end up putting school on the back burner anyway. And that’s exactly what happened, because come Monday, every time she left a class with homework it would end up in her desk, left there to rot until basketball wasn’t her main priority anymore.

Coach hadn’t been lying—he never is about those things. Practice was torture, often running hours into the night as the girls were made to play again and again until they were good enough in Geno’s eyes. But Azzi had been one of the few on the team who loved it, feeling just as renewed as she was drained after each practice. The more exhausted she got, the longer practice went on, the better she performed. It was unusual for her and it struck up a certain confidence, creating a subtle pep in her step everywhere she went.

The only downside to the week was the lack of Paige Time. It’s been like that for quite some time now—really, ever since basketball season started. After the long summer spent basically attached at the hip, the school year was a rude awakening for them and November was even ruder. They were juggling basketball, school, marketing, and their own personal endeavors—especially Paige’s as she prepares to declare. On top of all that, finding time to love on each other has been difficult, if not impossible. Besides for a few kisses in passing and minor flirting in practice, they really only see each other at bedtime and briefly in the mornings.

Which is why, when Azzi wakes up in her girlfriend’s room, she can’t help but smile a little to herself before she’s even really awake. Because it’s Saturday, and the sun is shining through the curtains, and most importantly, they have nowhere to be today.

She can feel Paige’s presence behind her, and can hear the TikToks playing on her phone, signaling she’s already awake. Actually, TikTok might’ve been what woke Azzi in the first place. Now that she’s really waking up, she realizes that Paige has her phone speakers turned up way too high, and a pang of sleepy irritability goes through her. “Babe,” she mumbles into her pillow, “turn that down.”

Thankfully, the tinny noises stop, but they’re quickly replaced by the familiar teasing tone in her girlfriend’s voice. “Look who’s finally awake.”

“What time is it?” Azzi yawns, eyes still closed.

“9:30,” Paige replies.

At that, Azzi snuggles further into the blankets, the scent of Paige enveloping her. “Not even that early,” she says. “Might go back to sleep.”

“Can I wake you up at ten?” Paige asks. “I’m bored.”

“Yes,” Azzi concedes, used to Paige’s neediness, “you can wake me up at ten.”

“Aight,” Paige says, sounding pleased with herself.

Azzi shifts, feeling a little lonely what with Paige all the way on her side of the bed. They’ve had a whole conversation at this point, yet she’s still yet to receive a good morning kiss. It’s off-putting, to be honest. She expects Paige, ever the affectionate one in their relationship, to sidle up beside her now that she’s semi-awake.

Instead, to her shock, the TikTok sounds start back up again. And they’re just as loud as before.

“Paige,” Azzi exclaims, finally cracking her eyes open, turning over her shoulder to find Paige propped up against the headboard, staring calmly at her.

“Hm?” she asks.

Azzi sighs. She hates having to ask for the things she wants. Usually, Paige just magically knows and provides it for her. She must be too busy on stupid TikTok to remember she has a girlfriend who needs attending to.

In lieu of asking straight-up, Azzi reaches back, grasping for Paige’s thigh and looking up at her with big brown eyes.

Immediately, Paige tosses her phone to the side, chuckling. “Mm. Sorry, princess.” Sliding down under the covers, she situates herself closer until she’s hovering above her, close enough to drop a chaste kiss on her lips. “You wanna cuddle?”

“Obviously,” Azzi mutters, reaching up for one more kiss before turning back over, sighing when Paige snuggles up behind her.

“You gotta little attitude this morning,” Paige helpfully observes, nuzzling into the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi closes her eyes, trying to let sleep call to her as it was just a minute ago. “Just miss you,” she says, a little vulnerable in the way she says it—and maybe that’s also due to the minimal clothes they’re wearing, the skin-on-skin contact always making her feel safe and comforted and exposed all at once.

Paige tuts sympathetically, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I know, baby.” There’s a beat of silence as they shift, Paige’s hand running over her stomach, trailing up to one of her breasts. “Missed you, too.”

As much as the touch turns Azzi on, it’s less the sexuality of it and more the sheer domesticity; the way they know each other’s bodies well enough to be comfortable with wandering hands that aren’t meant to lead anywhere. She breathes deep as Paige holds her gently, then clasps a hand over her’s, keeping her in place.

It’s only another minute before she’s drifting off again, Paige’s even breaths in her ear lulling her to sleep.

It’s peaceful—maybe the most relaxed she’s been all week. But as she lays there, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep, Paige’s breathing changes just a split second before she’s speaking too loudly in Azzi’s ear, “I’m hungry.”

Azzi startles a little at the sudden interruption. Her eyes fly open, though only to shoot a glare at her girlfriend. “Paige!”

“What? I am.” Paige frowns, pulling away to sit up and rub her stomach forlornly. “You took too long to wake up.”

Azzi sighs, rolling over onto her back. “I thought you were gonna let me sleep until ten.”

Paige shrugs at that, making big puppy eyes at her, and Azzi resigns to the fact that she will not be getting any more sleep this morning.

“Fine,” she grumbles, sitting up with some effort. “But I’m gonna shower first.”

She stands up, Paige’s eyes tracking her from where she sits on the bed. She whistles lowly as Azzi makes her way to the closet, likely due to the fact that she’s only wearing a pair of sheer panties. Azzi rolls her eyes, pulling on a pair of clothes for the walk down the hall.

Paige, of course, trails her to the bathroom, situating herself on the floor while Azzi starts the water. She watches intently as Azzi undresses, and Azzi catches her pout just as she’s stepping inside.

“What?” Azzi asks when she sees her expression.

“Can I come in with you?” Paige asks.

The offer is tempting, but Azzi is still sore from last night and in all honestly, she’s not in the mood after Paige rudely woke her this morning. “No. I’m only gonna be like five minutes.”

“I can help you.”

“I think I got it,” Azzi laughs, pouring soap onto her washcloth—something she is perfectly capable of doing by herself.

Paige stands up, walking over to Azzi’s phone on the counter. “Okay, then lemme play your music.”

Azzi doesn’t really have time to protest before Bossman Dlow is blasting far too loud over the speakers, and Paige picks up a hairbrush, admiring herself in the mirror as she sings. Azzi rolls her eyes, refocusing her efforts on cleaning up.

Paige looks over and catches the unamused look on her face. “Oh, sorry,” she says sincerely, picking up another hairbrush and holding it out. “You wanted a mic too?”

Azzi sighs. She gets the feeling she’ll be doing a lot of that today.

————————————

It’s not until awhile later that they finally get to the kitchen—mostly due to the fact that Paige kept showing her videos and making commentary while she tried to do her hair, causing the whole endeavor to take a lot longer than it should’ve. Ironically, Paige is the one whining about this by the time they’re finally ready.

“Bro, now I’m really hungry,” she says, continuing to rub her belly a bit like a pregnant lady—which makes Azzi giggle—as she heads to the fridge.

“What should we have, mama?” she asks. Then, as Azzi’s thinking about it, she says, “You’re right, pancakes sound good.”

Azzi hefts herself onto the counter. “Never said that.”

“You took too long to answer,” Paige replies simply. She roots through the fridge for another minute before sighing, turning around to face her. “Do we need milk to make pancakes?”

“Do you have pancake mix?”

“Um…” Paige walks to the pantry at this, taking another minute to search that before once again sighing dramatically. “No.”

“Then, yes. We need milk.”

“Why, though?” Paige asks, frowning. “Shouldn’t water work the same?”

Azzi scrunches her nose up at the thought of water pancakes. “Ew. No.”

Paige shakes her head at her. “Okay, Miss Picky.”

“I know you’re not talking.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Azzi hops off the counter, patting Paige’s chest as she walks past her to the entryway, searching for Paige’s keys. “C’mon, we can go grab some real quick.”

Azzi finds the keys and holds them out expectantly, unsurprised when Paige takes them without hesitation. “I guess. But no fucking around.”

They leave the apartment, and Azzi raises a brow as she watches Paige lock up. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Paige says, taking her hand and beginning to walk, “we get in, get the milk, and go.”

Azzi swings their hands mindlessly between them. “If I’m remembering right, you’re the one who’s currently unmedicated.”

“Yeah, and I’m chill,” Paige says, pressing the button for the elevator. “My doctors just want my money or sum’, I’m fine without that dumb shit.”

“Paige, you woke me up five times last night because you had things to tell me and didn’t wanna forget.”

“Valid reason to wake you up.” Paige shoves Azzi inside the elevator, and once she follows, Azzi pushes her right back.

“I’m just saying. You’re easily distracted.”

“Nah.”

“We were making out for like an hour yesterday and you interrupted it to tell me a story.”

“It was a funny story,” Paige explains, taking her hand once again when the elevator doors open and dragging her out.

“Debatable,” Azzi quips, even though it was kinda a good story.

“And it’s not like we didn’t continue kissing after that. I just gave us a lil intermission.”

“You never needed intermissions while you were on your meds.”

They’re in the parking lot now, and Paige unlocks her car, nudging Azzi towards it. “Just get in the car.”

“Bossy,” Azzi mumbles.

Believe it or not, the two of them do have days where they don’t fight, argue, or even sass each other. Those days, however, come far and few between—making fun of each other is their love language and thus little spats happen more often than not. And with today being the first day in awhile that they’ve spent together—not to mention Paige’s apparent decision to be more irritating than usual—it’s no surprise that they spend the car ride fighting over music.

By the time they get to the grocery store, Paige is hyperfocused on making sure Azzi stays on track. When Azzi falls behind to smell a candle, she sighs and tugs her away by the wrist: “Bro, why are we going at grandma pace.”

Ironically, Paige, like the hypocrite she is, also finds an abandoned cart in the refrigerated section. Azzi is grabbing milk when Paige bumps her with the cart, getting her attention. When Azzi looks at her, Paige simply says, “Babe, watch,” and proceeds to hop on the cart and ride it down the aisle with the vigor of a small child.

Once the milk is secured, Azzi decides she deserves some remuneration for the taxing work of going out in public with her girlfriend. Stopping Paige on their way to checkout, Azzi looks up at her with big, brown eyes and says, “Can we stop in the books? Just really quick.”

Paige avoids her gaze. “Nah, I wanna leave.”

“Aw,” Azzi coos, running a hand down Paige’s arm somewhat seductively, “please, Paigey? I need new books.”

Still, Paige refuses to make eye contact as she says, “Aren’t you working on, like, two right now?”

Azzi doesn’t usually get this much pushback from her. She wonders exactly why Paige woke up and decided to annoy her today. Still, she knows Paige can’t say no to her. Placing her hand on Paige’s cheek, she turns her face, forcing her to look at her: the slight pout of her lips, the way her eyes widen enough to be convincing. “C’mon, baby,” she says. “I promise I’ll be fast.”

That’s the breaking point. With a sigh, Paige nods, allowing herself to be excitedly led to the book section.

Azzi decides that she’s no longer annoyed with Paige as she searches through the books, reading over the synopses of every one that looks interesting. She’s desperate for something new, even though Paige is right—she already has plenty.

Paige stays miraculously quiet for a solid five minutes, allowing Azzi to take her time and even browsing through a few books of her own.

Those five minutes, however, are as long as she gets before she happens to pick up a romance novel. Paige glances at her in that moment and she barely has time to hide the cover before Paige is gagging, most likely at the straight couple pictured embracing on the front of it. “That’s so gross.”

Azzi puts the book back on the shelf. “It’s no different than when we kiss.”

“Lowkey super offensive thing to say,” Paige replies. Azzi rolls her eyes, watching as Paige reaches down to grab a large book with colorful dragons on the cover. “This looks way cooler.”

Azzi takes a few steps closer to read the bold lettering on the cover, and then snorts. “Paige, that is a coloring book.”

By the time they get back home, Azzi has officially rescinded her earlier decision—she is definitely still annoyed with Paige.

—————————————

When they return to the dorms, despite Azzi’s oddly low patience for Paige’s annoying nature today, she still wants nothing more than to cozy up in bed with her and read her new book. They make the pancakes first, Paige doing nothing to help her case by arguing about how exactly to make pancakes. Once the two of them—plus half the team, who heard from Jana in the group chat that there would be pancakes—are fed, Azzi is ready to retreat back into Paige’s room.

However, most of the team is still there, and Paige’s oblivious ass is refusing to take Azzi’s hints, too busy chatting with their friends.

She’s tried everything: muttering to Paige that she’s tired (“I see a lil’ napski in our future,” is what Paige responds with), sitting herself on Paige’s lap in an unusual display of affection (“We run out of chairs or sum’?” Paige asks), and even aggressively cleaning everybody’s dishes (“I can do that, mama, you go hang,” Paige says, taking over).

At this point, it’s all she can do not to just yell at her girlfriend. She sits on the couch, listening a little sleepily as KK tells her some crazy story. The team is far too raucous for noon on a Saturday, probably in part to the ridiculous amounts of whipped cream and syrup they all used on their pancakes. In the kitchen, Aubrey and Paige start wrestling, and KK stops yapping to go join them. She jumps on Paige’s back, knocking her over and losing her balance in the process until they’re a heap on the floor. Aubrey steps on their backs, flexing, and the girls cheer rowdily.

Azzi is overstimulated.

Refraining from covering her ears, Azzi stands, giving up on the Paige aspect of her afternoon plans. She’s not sure she even wants Paige—who is hysterically laughing as she gets up from the floor—to be with her anymore. It’d be like forcing a hyper dog to cuddle. She’d probably end up getting bitten.

She’s hoping nobody will notice her slipping away, but Kayla does, tugging on a curl as she heads to the hallway. “Where ya going, babe?”

“Paige’s room,” Azzi says simply.

“She’s gonna notice you’re gone.”

Azzi glances at the scene behind them. Someone’s turned on ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ and Ice has now joined the kitchen boxing match. Paige just barely ducks a fist to the face before barreling into Ice’s stomach, once again ending up on the floor, giggling deliriously. The other girls have mostly lost interest at this point, which is fair—this isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.

Azzi turns back to Kayla. “I doubt it.”

“Give her five minutes,” Kayla insists.

“She’s too busy being a little boy.” Azzi rolls her eyes, patting Kayla affectionately as she walks past.

In Paige’s room, she breathes a sigh of relief, the closed door offering some solace from the noise outside. Even better, Paige’s airpods sit on her bedside table; Azzi takes them and connects them to her phone, turning on the noise-cancelling setting. Pleased with the results, she settles into her side of the bed, picking up her book and beginning to read.

She gets maybe two pages in before a tap on the shoulder scares the shit out of her.

Jumping, she whirls around, to find Paige standing beside the bed with a sheepish smile on her face.

Azzi takes out an airpod. “Paige, what?”

Her tone comes out more exasperated than she means to and feels a little guilty about the confused look she gets in return. “I noticed you left. Kay told me you were in here.”

“Yeah, just reading.”

“I see,” Paige replies. She hovers awkwardly, then says, “why didn’t you bring me with you?”

Despite her irritability, affection blossoms in Azzi’s chest at her girlfriend’s clinginess, her need to be around her 24/7 if they’re together. And Azzi reminds herself that this is the first day they’ve really had with each other in a while, and Paige is missing her too. Gently, she says, “I tried, but it seemed like you were having too much fun.”

“I mean, I was having fun,” Paige says. “But I’d rather hang out with you than fuck around with those dumbasses.”

“You’re as much of a dumbass as they are,” Azzi quips. “Actually, they probably learned it from you.”

“Like father, like sons,” Paige nods solemnly. Then, unceremoniously, she throws herself on top of Azzi, nearly knocking the wind out of her and crushing her book between them.

“Ow, Paige!” she says, freeing her hands and book as Paige wriggles like a happy little worm on top of her.

“I missed you,” Paige mumbles into her neck.

“We’ve been together all day.”

“You left me alone out there.”

“I’ve been in here for like five minutes.”

Paige lifts her head to pout at her. “Five minutes too long.”

Unable to help herself, she leans forward, kissing the pout off Paige’s lips. When she pulls back, Paige chases after her, trying to deepen the kiss, but Azzi pushes at her chest. “I still wanna read my book.”

“Okay,” Paige says.

“I wanna snuggle with you,” Azzi continues. “But only if you let me read.“

“Okay,” she repeats. She’s staring at Azzi’s lips, though, which doesn’t spark a lot of confidence that she’s actually listening.

“Which means,” Azzi emphasizes, getting Paige’s eyes to snap back up to her’s, “no talking, no showing me TikToks. And no distracting me with sex.”

Paige pouts again at that, batting her eyelashes stupidly. “What, you mean I can’t eat you out while you’re reading?” Azzi flicks her forehead, and she snickers, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Joking. I’ll be good, don’t worry.”

Azzi actually believes her, crazy enough. It’s mostly due to the fact that she and Paige have been together for nearly seven years, so she has her pretty house-trained at this point.

Satisfied, she flashes a smile, picking her book back up. Paige scoots down the length of her body until she’s settled between Azzi’s legs, head resting comfortably on the soft expanse of her tummy. Once they’re situated, Azzi frees up a hand to scratch Paige’s scalp, which’ll keep her happy for a while.

They sit like that for around thirty minutes. The noise of their teammates has died down enough to know that some of them have left, though it’s obvious by the extra chatter that a handful is still hanging around. Paige actually falls asleep within the first ten minutes, which Azzi guesses is probably why she gets so much quiet time.

It still doesn’t feel like enough, though, when a knock sounds at the door. “Y’all decent?”

Azzi glances down at Paige—still fast asleep—and quietly calls out, “We’re good.”

The door swings open and Jana steps inside, followed closely by Ayanna. “We’re going to Chick-Fil-A,” Yanna says, “you wanna come?”

“No, that’s okay.” Azzi pats Paige’s head in a silent explanation. “I’m nap-trapped.”

“Aww, parents.” Jana pulls her phone out, taking a hilariously unflattering close-up of Paige practically drooling on Azzi’s stomach. Azzi giggles as Jana shows her the picture, and she’s distracted enough that there’s nothing she can do when Yanna approaches and jostles Paige awake.

“No, wait—!” Azzi exclaims, reaching out to try and stop her, but it’s too late: the damage is already done. Paige cracks her eyes open with a little groan.

Ayanna scratches the back of her neck sheepishly. Azzi glares at her, then strokes Paige’s hair, trying to coax her back to sleep. “It’s ok, P.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, lifting her head to blink sleepily at them. “Why’d you wake me up?”

“My bad,” Yanna says guiltily. “We just thought you might wanna get Chick-Fil-A with us.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Paige nuzzles back into Azzi’s tummy, surprisingly chill considering she hates being woken from her naps. “Thanks though.”

“Uh-huh,” Jana replies, already heading out the room while she smiles at her phone—Azzi assumes she’s uploading that picture to her close friends.

“Sorry,” Yanna says once again, more to Azzi than anything, before following.

Paige yawns, her warm breath fanning over Azzi’s stomach. As she cuddles back in, Azzi thinks maybe she’ll go back to sleep. She holds onto that hope and resumes her book, threading her fingers through Paige’s hair gently.

This time, it doesn’t work. Which is evident based on the way she lifts herself up on her elbows, giving herself just enough room to press a few kisses around Azzi’s stomach. At first, Azzi tries to ignore it, hoping maybe it’s a casual gesture.

But it’s not long before the kisses slow down as she takes more time on each one, mouth opening so that it leaves the skin of her tummy just a little wet. Of course, it’s out of Azzi’s control the way her thighs tense up, blood rushing straight to her core as her body reacts to her girlfriend’s touch.

Paige curls her fingers around the hem of her top, lips following her hands as they bunch the fabric up to give herself more space, stopping underneath her breasts. She looks up at Azzi, whose gaze is now focused intently on the top of her girlfriend’s head, and flashes a devious little smile before licking a stripe between her ribcage.

Azzi tosses the book to the side, not even bothering to mark her page, freeing her hands so she can use them to pull her girlfriend up by the shoulders, meeting her in the middle for a kiss that’s nowhere near chaste.

Paige is still lying heavily atop her, their chests pressed close together, but it’s still second nature the way Azzi wraps her arms around Paige’s waist in an attempt to get her closer. Paige grins against her mouth at the feeling, their hips coming flush together which makes Azzi gasp despite herself.

“Mm,” Paige hums, beginning a slow, wet trail of kisses down her jawline. “Missed you, baby.”

Azzi can’t help but laugh at that. “We just had sex last night.”

“‘S been way too long since then,” Paige mutters into the crook of her neck. Her teeth graze gently over the sensitive skin and Azzi grips her tighter, thinking she might actually agree with Paige for the first time today.

Paige is obviously building her up, apparently horny after her power nap, and Azzi doesn’t plan on stopping her. This is usually how it goes, anyway, Paige being the initiator nine out of ten times. As Paige pushes her top up above her tits, she knows she has no problem with that.

Her hands are a little cold against Azzi’s warm flesh, nipples pebbled from the temperature change mixed with her arousal. Paige just begins to tweak one of them, making Azzi moan softly—her nipples have always been sensitive—when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

The two of them groan, Paige’s forehead falling against her shoulder.

“Y’all decent?” It is, once again, Jana.

Paige lifts her head, pausing to glance down at her hands where they palm Azzi’s bare tits, and keeping her gaze there as she says, “Not really.”

“Already?” Jana calls, sounding somewhere between amused and disgusted. “You’ve been alone for like five minutes!”

“What do you want, Jana?” Azzi asks before Paige can let out the cocky response she definitely wants to say. Her voice is a little breathy, thanks to Paige absentmindedly rolling a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and she hopes Jana doesn’t notice.

“We’re not going out anymore. Too much work. I was gonna ask if you wanna watch a movie with us, but…”

“No,” Paige and Azzi yell at the same time.

“Okay, damn,” Jana sighs. “Just being polite. Don’t get pregnant in there.”

Her footsteps trail off, and they make eye contact and laugh, Paige leaning forward to press an amused kiss to her lips. “We have trifling teammates.”

“Don’t talk about our kids like that,” Azzi says.

“They’re some bad ass kids.” Paige gives her another kiss. This time, it’s Azzi who gives chase when she pulls away, but Paige sighs, and to Azzi’s disappointment, pulls her shirt back down.

Azzi pouts, arms traveling up to loop around the back of her neck. “Why’d you stop?”

“They’re still here,” Paige replies. “I’on want them to hear us.”

“They won’t,” Azzi insists. “I’ll be quiet.”

“No, you won’t,” Paige snorts. She kisses Azzi tenderly on the cheek. “Sorry, mama.”

As Paige scoots back down to her original spot, Azzi crosses her arms, feeling a little like a defiant child as she says, “You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I know, baby.” Paige nuzzles against Azzi’s navel, doing nothing to help the heat between her legs. “When Jana and Allie are asleep tonight, I’ll get you right, I promise.”

Azzi huffs.

Paige chuckles softly at her, only making her more annoyed. “Thought you wanted to read your book, hm?”

“That was before you touched my tits,” Azzi replies.

Paige lays her head down. “Poor Azzi-Wazzi,” she tuts with faux sympathy.

“You’re a dick,” Azzi mumbles, picking up her book more out of spite than anything, sure she won’t be able to focus on it. She tries valiantly, though.

Her efforts are interrupted at the feeling of fingers dancing across her stomach.

Peering over her book, Azzi sees Paige walking her pointer and middle finger across the length of her tummy, an amused smile on her face as she watches herself. “‘I’m Azzi Fudd’,” she says, voice quiet and high-pitched, “‘and I have a big ol’ head’.”

Taking a deep, shaky breath to calm herself, Azzi returns to her book, pointedly ignoring her.

“‘Babe, do these pants make me look big?’” Paige continues, jumping her hand-Azzi around dramatically as she badly impersonates her.

“No, you look good,” she replies in her normal voice.

“‘You’re supposed to say that,’” Hand-Azzi whines. “‘Tell me for real’.”

“I’m not lying, I love those pants.”

“‘Babe, stop lying to me!’”

Paige sighs dramatically, as if she were actually arguing with somebody else. “I’m not.”

“‘Yes you are. And you’re probably cheating too.’”

“Baby, you know I’d never—“

Slamming her book down, Azzi grabs Paige’s hand, stilling her excessive finger movements. “Paige!”

Paige laughs, probably at herself, sitting up and stretching out. “What?”

“You are stupid,” Azzi replies a little vehemently. With Paige no longer on top of her, she gathers her things and gets out of bed, officially done.

“Where you goin’, mami?” Paige asks, getting up to follow.

Azzi holds a hand up. “I’m going to sit on the couch, so I can read.”

“You’ve been reading for so long,” Paige groans.

Azzi rolls her eyes, turning away and leaving the room.

Paige trails behind her. “They’re watching a movie in there.”

“Okay, then I’ll watch with them.”

“Cool. Wanna sit with me?”

“No,” Azzi says.

Paige grabs her by the waist, holding her against her front, leaning around to kiss her cheek. “C’mon, baby, you know I was just playin’.”

“Okay, and I don’t wanna be played with.” Azzi pulls out of her grasp, shooting a glare over her shoulder.

Paige raises an eyebrow. “Aight, sassy.”

Azzi doesn’t dignify that with a response. She just heads to the living room, flopping down beside Ice to join the movie. She’s relieved (and maybe a little disappointed) when Paige doesn’t follow her.

—————————————

Paige has left her alone for a good amount of time, maybe an hour. Azzi has KK to thank for that: the two of them have been fucking around, playing Fort, and making TiKToks while Azzi enjoys her peace and quiet. She stays in Paige’s apartment, knowing she’s still going to bed with her tonight. Just as long as Paige continues to keep her distance for awhile.

She’s lying on the couch, book held above her, glasses perched over her nose as she reads. The movie ended a while ago, and Morgan and Sarah still linger around, hanging with Jana, and Allie’s in her room. She sort of hopes they don’t hang around too long. As much as she loves her kids, they’re a lot.

Still, it’s manageable. That is, until Paige and KK come barreling into the room, laughing their asses off. Azzi squeezes her eyes shut, hoping they’re going to pass her, but to her dismay, they stop right in front of the couch.

“Babe,” Paige says.

“Yes,” Azzi monotones.

“We need your opinion.” KK cackles as Paige promptly turns around before starting to twerk—or at least, something that looks like it could be twerking—right in front of Azzi’s poor face. “It’s moving, right? There’s motion?”

On any other day, Azzi might sugarcoat it to be nice, but today she just says, “There is absolutely not motion.”

KK clutches her stomach, laughing so hard she almost wheezes.

Paige whips around, hands on her chest. If there were pearls there, she’d be clutching them. “Babe!”

“I told you!” KK yells, pushing Paige out of the way. Azzi groans as she, too, turns around and begins shaking ass. It is admittedly better than Paige’s attempt. “What about me?”

“Mm, it’s a little better.”

“You gotta teach us,” KK says, tugging at Azzi’s hand.

“Ooh, yeah, teach us,” Paige agrees, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’m a visual learner, by the way.”

Azzi scoffs. As if. She pulls herself free from KK’s grasp, then stands. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” they both frown.

“Because I’m trying to relax and y’all are being weird,” she quips.

“Why don’t you come hang with us?” Paige offers, a little more gently, obviously realizing Azzi is actually a little annoyed.

“No, thanks,” Azzi says. “I’m already overstimulated enough just from listening to you guys.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows. “Where you going, then?”

Azzi sighs, glancing at the door, then to her girlfriend, then back again. “I think I’m gonna head to my room, Paige.”

KK gasps. “Oh, mom and dad fighting?”

“We are not,” Paige insists. Then she turns to Azzi with an exaggerated sad face. “Are we?”

“No,” Azzi says, which is true. They’re not fighting; she just needs a break. “I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Why’re you leaving?” Paige asks, stepping toward her.

“I just…I’m a little grumpy today. Not as patient as usual. I need a few minutes.”

Paige frowns, but KK, never one to read a social situation, laughs. “She really said she has a low Paige threshold,” she giggles, pushing Paige’s shoulder.

“We barely saw each other this week,” Paige says, ignoring KK as she reaches out to hold Azzi’s hands. “We’ve already been apart today.”

“I know, honey,” Azzi says. She decides against pointing out that all in all, they’ve only been apart for around an hour total this entire day. “I promise I’ll be back.”

“Like, soon, right?” Paige says, giving her big puppy eyes that she’s never been able to resist.

“Yes, soon,” she promises. She leans forward for a kiss, KK averting her gaze with an eye roll. “Play Fort with KK or something. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t,” Paige insists, sounding genuinely worried.

“You will. We have tomorrow, too, remember?” With one last kiss, Azzi releases her hands, grabbing her things to go downstairs. She just barely catches KK making fun of Paige for being a simp before she gets out the door.

————————————

“Open the doooor.”

“Az, c’mon, bro, lemme in!”

“Bitch, you’ve had plenty alone time, pleaseeee.”

Azzi stands by the door, laughing silently at her girlfriend’s pleading—which has been going on, unanswered on her part, for about five minutes now—until her face drops at the last sentence. “What did you just call me?”

There’s a distinctly panicked silence before Paige starts backtracking. “I mean, my beautiful wife who I love and respect. For real, let me in. We can be alone together!”

“Very poetic,” Azzi remarks.

Paige groans, and there’s a thunk that sounds a lot like a forehead hitting a door. “Dawg.”

Once again, Azzi goes quiet, and she can tell the exact moment Paige realizes this because there’s another thunk.

“Azzi, please, babe.”

Still, she doesn’t respond, and that’s when the singing starts.

“Pleaseeee, open the dooorrr,” she sings quite horribly. Azzi quiets her giggle behind a hand.

“Pleaseeee,” she continues, completely off-key. Sza level, my ass.

“No, Paige.”

“Baby, please! It’s almost dinner time.”

“For who? It’s barely four.”

There’s another beat of silence. Then, “Azzi, I’m gonna cry. Please.”

Obviously, Paige is bullshitting her. She’s not going to cry. But still, Azzi’s never been able to be stern with Paige. (And Paige calling her her wife earlier certainly helped matters.)

As soon as she cracks the door open, Paige is trying to barge through, but Azzi stops her with a foot in the door. “Hold on.”

Paige, obediently, stops.

“I’m still a little grumpy,” Azzi admits.

Paige nods. “Okay.”

“So…be gentle, okay? I don’t like being mad at you.”

“I don’t like you being at me,” Paige agrees.

“We’re in agreement, then.”

“A hundred percent.” Paige pushes at the door. “Now, can I come in, please?”

Azzi opens the door all the way, allowing herself to be tackled onto the bed in a very non-gentle way, but still, she laughs. Even when she needs space from Paige, even when she chooses it—she still just ends up missing her the whole time.

“Hey,” Paige says once she’s effectively pinned her to the bed. “Noticed your dorm’s empty.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“I can finish what I started earlier,” Paige offers, suggestive smile on her face before she says, “unless you don’t want that, obviously.”

Azzi’s pulling her down before she can finish her sentence.

(“We’re getting a sweet treat later,” she says a little while later.

“Okay, princess,” Paige says, situating herself between her legs. “Whatever you want.” And then, she drops a kiss on the inside of her thigh before spreading her open, dipping her head down, and going beautifully quiet for the first time all day. They stay in bed for quite some time.)

When Azzi starts her period the next day, she proudly says to herself, “I knew I wasn’t going crazy.”

[edamameimei]

do i wanna know?

"sort of hoping that you'd stay..."

pairing: daniela avanzini!dream academy x reader!dream academy

synopsis: all the girls in dream academy knew you and daniela had a very close dynamic. it was one that often left them all confused, but they knew one thing for certain, and that was you belonged to daniela avanzini. but as your friendship grows with a certain australian, daniela begins to do some reflection of her own when it comes to her attachment towards you.

fluff in the beginning, gets a little suggestive near the end. mostly angst soz. CW: dani is a lil possessive and toxic if you squint!

a/n: just want to put out there that this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. i am and will always be an ezrela thinker so i had to express it somehow so i decided to throw it back to dream academy era for valentines day <333

wc: 4344 words

now playing: do i wanna know? (live at the bbc) - hozier

Daniela had always been curious about you and Ezrela’s relationship. 

At first, she thought it was sweet. Watching you two together always brought a smile to Daniela’s face, the way your 5’10” stature towered over Ezrela significantly. The girl was just so tiny and cute, it would be hard to not find the dynamic between you both somewhat adorable. 

That was, until you two become much more comfortable with each other. 

There was an unspoken rule amongst the Dream Academy girls. It was one that only you and Daniela were not in on, yet you two created it. Or, more so Daniela. That rule was to keep physical contact with you at a minimum. They found hugs were fine (as long as they don’t last longer than a second or two) and just speaking with you was fair game. But once someone tries leaning in closer, tries to place a hand on your arm, Daniela Avanzini magically appears right next to you and inserts herself into the conversation. 

The girls didn’t mind it. Actually, they found it amusing. It became somewhat of a teasing game amongst them. Who can piss Dani off the most? But when they notice the Latina is not in the mood for any jokes or any playful games, they all know to back off. They wouldn’t dare piss the girl off even more. Daniela, without even knowing, has made her claim on you. She made it very clear. Of course, this sparks speculations over the true dynamic of your  “friendship,” but the girls know it’s something you two will have to figure out on your own. According to Lara, “it’s a canon event and we cannot interfere.” 

But Ezrela really knows how to push Daniela’s buttons. 

It was subtle at first, honestly. 

After another long and tiring day of T&D, a few of the girls decide to make a trip to a boba place they saw around the corner. While you sat on the practice room floor, switching out your sneakers to wear converse, you spoke to Ezrela animatedly. You both were engaged in a conversation about an anime you both were watching and had very similar opinions on an episode that recently aired. 

On the otherside of the room, Daniela and Lara wait, having their own conversation. Every once in a while, Daniela would look over, her eyes focused on the way Ezrela acted around you. Once she was satisfied with what she saw, she would turn back to Lara, giving her undivided attention. 

When she looks back at you two, Daniela’s eyes narrow slightly. At some point, Ezrela shifted closer to you, now sitting right in front of you. The small girl shows you something on her phone and it makes you laugh loudly, placing your hand on her shoulder to brace yourself. 

Daniela decides she is done waiting when she sees Ezrela tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. She is basically stomping over when she hears a soft giggle escape your lips. 

She extends her arm, waiting for you to take her hand so you all can finally leave. Ezrela immediately stands to her feet while you take Daniela’s hand, unaware of the Latina’s hard gaze. You stand up, allowing Daniela to pull you towards the door with a tight grip. 

And then it was the Instagram posts. 

You and Daniela lay in the Latina’s bed in the dorms. You’re both still in the gray uniforms, too lazy to take them off after filming all day for Dream Academy. At some point, while Daniela scrolled through her TikTok so you two could watch together, you fell asleep. Daniela has her head against your chest, feeling comforted by the way it rises and falls with every breath. Her leg is swung over yours and for some reason, it just feels natural to be this close in proximity. 

Daniela switches to Instagram, finally getting tired of watching the videos on her For You Page. The first post that pops up strikes a nerve within the girl. 

Five minutes ago, Ezrela posted a photo set of you and her. The photos were taken the day before and it was of you two in the gray uniforms. 

The first photo was of you looking down at Ezrela with a teasing smile as the Aussie had her arms crossed, pouting up at the girl. 

The second photo was a .5. You held the camera with your tongue sticking out. Ezrela kept a neutral expression. 

The third photo was of you two hugging. Daniela’s eyes harden at the way you held Ezrela close. The Aussie had her head against your chest, her arms wrapped around your torso. Your arms wrapped around Ezrela’s neck, one of your hands in the girl’s hair. The photo looked tender and rather loving and it made Daniela feel sick. 

The last photo was quite blurry but it still did enough to make Daniela’s blood boil. You two were smiling widely as you held Ezrela in your arms bridal style. The Aussie had her arms securely wrapped around your neck, head on your shoulder. 

The caption read: THE short and tall duo>>>

Daniela huffs. She feels even more annoyed with the caption. She looks up at you and sees that you’re still sleeping peacefully. Your mouth is slightly open, snoring softly. For a moment, Daniela’s eyes soften at the way you look. It quickly disappears when she remembers Ezrela’s stupid post and pokes your side, trying to wake you. You stir, groaning when you feel Daniela’s finger jabbing into your side incessantly. You swat at her with no energy at all. “Dani stop… I’ve been up since 5 AM let me keep my eyes closed a few minutes longer…” 

Suddenly, you feel the bed shift. You open your eyes slightly, a bit confused by the commotion. Your eyes widen when Daniela begins straddling you, sitting prettily on top of you with her legs on either side of you. Your breath catches in your throat and you wonder if you’re still dreaming. 

“I wanna take a photo for my Instagram story.” You raise an eyebrow at the Latina. “That’s why you woke me up?” She simply nods her head in response. You groan, closing your eyes again. Suddenly, you sigh in exasperation, relenting to your best friend. “Okay… How do you wanna do it?” Daniela grabs you by the tie, pulling you up while she is still situated on your lap. You scoot back a bit so you can lean your back against the headboard. You instinctively wrap your arms around Daniela’s waist and rest your head on the girl’s shoulder. You mumble, “what now?” 

Daniela bites her lip, suddenly feeling shy by how intimate this feels. She doesn’t know why she’s acting like this. It’s not like you and her were together. It’s not like she even has romantic feelings for you. But Daniela has never been the one to share and she is going to make it a point for everyone to see. 

You are her best friend. Not Ezrela’s. 

She wraps an arm around your neck and grabs her phone, going to the Instagram app. She raises the phone, making sure you are both in the frame. Daniela smiles as you keep your head nuzzled into her shoulder, a small smile on your face can be seen. When Daniela is satisfied with how it is framed, she takes the picture. You mumble again, tightening your arms around Daniela, “Is it good?” 

Daniela nods, biting her lip to hide her smirk. “It’s perfect.” 

She captions it: hugs from y/n>>>

Manon sits in the lounge, headphones in as she scrolls through her phone. 

Lara and Lexie notice her alone and decide to walk over to her. Lara sits next to her on the couch while Lexie sits in the armchair. Manon looks up, smiling tiredly. Lara raises an eyebrow. “You… Okay?” 

Manon laughs, nodding her head. “Yeah. Dani is having a… Moment.” 

Lexie looks at the girl with a worried expression. “Is she okay?” Manon nods again, sighing dramatically. “Just the usual things. Y/n is out with Ezrela and-“ Lara puts a hand up, not needing to hear any more from her. She looks at Lexie with a knowing look. 

The two nod. Yeah, that’ll do it. 

The first time you two argue about it, it scares Daniela shitless. 

Because fuck why is she picking a fight about it? 

You sneak back into the shared dorm with Manon and Daniela. You quietly tiptoe to your bed, not wanting to make a sound. You crouch by your bed, quietly taking off your shoes but the sound of the bed squeaking slightly causes you to pick your head up. You see Daniela laying there, wiping the sleepiness off her face. You reach out, tucking the hair covering her face behind her ear. You whisper softly, “come here often?” 

Daniela giggles tiredly. “Where were you?” 

You take your last shoe off and climb over Daniela. You situate yourself behind the girl and pull her close, enjoying the warmth that radiates from the girl’s body. Daniela cuddles closer to you, feeling her eyes wanting to close but she fights back. She wants to hear your answer. 

She feels you whisper into her hair. “I went to the 7/11 across the street with Ezrela,” you giggle, “We got slurpees and decided to hang out a little bit longer.” Daniela bites her lip when she hears the response. She can’t help but feel an annoyance rising within her. She turns over, facing you with a hard look in her eyes. She whispers, “I was waiting for you…” 

You feel a heat in your cheeks when Daniela faces you. You can’t help but feel hyperaware of how close you two are— how close your lips are. You push those thoughts away. You know better than to get ahead of yourself. This is Daniela Avanzini for crying out loud. You whisper back, “I told you I’d be out with Ezzie-“ 

“Until 3 in the freaking morning, Y/n?” Her whisper comes out harsh, a bit louder than before. You’re taken aback by her tone, not understanding the reason behind it. Daniela knows Ezrela is one of your closest friends in Dream Academy. Why is she making a big deal out of it? You bite your lip anxiously. “Yeah? You and I have been out that long before… Maybe even longer. What’s the problem?” Daniela can’t help the frustrated sigh that escapes her lips. 

“I’m going back to my bed.” Daniela makes a move to sit up but you keep your arms around the Latina, tightening your grasp. You want to get to the bottom of this. Your first performance is tomorrow and you’re both in a group together. You can’t let Daniela become distracted, not when it’s your fault. But Daniela pushes you back, an obvious glare on her features. “Y/n. Let me go, I have to go to bed.” You don’t let up though. You just look at Daniela like a wounded puppy. 

“Why are you mad?” The question makes Daniela even more furious. She doesn’t know why, it just does. She knows she’s acting irrationally but she also can’t help it. Whatever it is she’s feeling, she can’t push it away. Every time she sees you with Ezrela, the feeling intensifies. Deep down, she knows what it is. But she isn’t ready to face it, and she doesn’t know if she’d ever be. She pushes you again, this time winning the fight. She walks to her own bed without another word and crawls under the covers. She can feel your eyes on her but she doesn’t spare you a glance. She ignores it like she does with the feeling that festers messily in the pit of her stomach. 

The next morning, at 9 AM, she wakes up to the sound of presumably you walking into the shared dorm. Daniela know you’re probably back from your morning run. She stays still, pretending to stay asleep. After the events that happened a few hours before, she is too afraid to acknowledge it. She hears you walk beside her bed and then walk away right after. She hears rummaging in the shared closet space and then your footsteps walking towards the bathroom. Once Daniela hears the door click close, she opens her eyes. She waits until she hears the shower running to get up. She sits up, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

She knows she needs to apologize. But then she would have to explain herself and that, Daniela isn’t sure how to do. She doesn’t even know why she got mad at you in the first place. She sighs deeply and rests her head against her knees. She takes a glance at the clock on her nightstand but is surprised to see a cup of coffee sitting there. 

Iced vanilla latte w/ almond milk. 

also known as: a peace offering. 

You get first place in fan votes for mission one. 

When live voting ends and eliminations are made, you stand up, body shaking slightly from the stress. You walk over to Daniela, pulling the girl into a tight hug. You hold each other for a moment, grateful that you’re both safe this week. Seeing it all happen in real time made the experience much scarier. It made it all feel more like a competition. At the end of this, there really is something to lose. 

You both pull away, but Daniela reaches out and holds your hand. You both exit the room with each other, a thick silence between you two. Suddenly, Ezrela runs up to you and Daniela feels you let go of her hand to catch Ezrela in your arms. She watches as you spin the Aussie around, smiles on your faces. The taller puts Ezrela down, keeping your hands on the girl’s waist as the other securely keeps her arms around your neck. Ezrela says something to you that causes you to throw your head back, laughing. The scene makes Daniela want to cry for some reason. 

She is just so confused by what is going through her head. 

You and Ezrela continue talking and Daniela decides she can’t watch you two anymore. She turns on her heel, following Manon out the door.  

At some point, Daniela convinces herself that Ezrela is in fact doing it to piss her off. 

When they’re in Lotte World, they have an opportunity to dress in the school uniforms they provide and the way you look in yours makes Daniela fall in love with you even more than before—

Pause. 

She looks away, her cheeks burning when the thought comes to mind. She looks in the mirror, fiddling with the neck bow. She struggles a bit with the knot and she almost goes to Yoonchae for assistance but she feels a pair of hands over her own and she looks up to see you smiling down at her. 

“Need help?” Daniela giggles softly, nodding. “Is it obvious?” You look at her with an adoration in her eyes that makes Daniela feel sick all over again. She rests her arms at her sides, allowing you to tie the bow around her neck. The Latina looks up at you, studying your features. The freckles that decorate your nose and cheeks, the way your brow furrows in concentration, your habit of biting your tongue when you’re determined. She watches as your lips curl into a small smile when you finish with Daniela’s bow, looking up from it to look at the Latina with a wide smile. The smile makes Daniela’s facade falter slightly. For a second, she almost believes that it would be safe for her to give into what she feels. For a moment, Daniela almost admits to herself what she has been denying for almost a year. 

You look at Daniela and tilt your head in curiosity. You giggle, “Earth to Dani?” The Latina widens her eyes, suddenly feeling nervous. She pushes you away, rolling her eyes playfully. Her cheeks burn again and she hopes you don’t notice the way her cheeks are painted red. She mumbles, “You’re so annoying…” and you laugh, wrapping your arms around Daniela’s shoulders, pulling her close. You look into the mirror and smile softly.

“Let’s take a picture.” You reach into your pocket, grabbing your phone. You two take pictures, taking several with a variety of different poses and faces. After a few moments, you feel a poke on your shoulder and you look over to see Ezrela smiling sheepishly, holding her neck bow. 

“I’ve been fighting with this thing for 30 minutes…” The statement makes you laugh loudly. You nod, taking the neck bow from the Aussie. Daniela watches as you assist Ezrela. She can’t help but notice how careful you were, as if scared you’d tie it too tightly or would make the shorter feel uncomfortable. That feeling begins bubbling up again, the one she always gets when she sees you anywhere near Ezrela. The mere mention of the Australian is enough to put her in a bad mood. 

When you finish, Ezrela places her hands on your shoulders. She leans up and kisses you on the cheek. Daniela notices how she lingers there for a second longer. It’s as if everyone noticed the small gesture of affection because the room goes noticeably silent. The girls subtly look at Daniela, waiting for her reaction. The Latina was visibly fuming because what the fuck. Without thinking, Daniela pulls you by the hand, leading you towards the exit. Your eyes widen at the sudden shift in Daniela’s mood. “Why are we in a rush?” 

Daniela shrugs. She lies, “I told Karlee, Lara, and Lexie we’d meet soon.” You accept the answer, still slightly bewildered by Daniela’s actions. 

She turns around, effectively stopping you in your tracks. Daniela steps closer to you, an unreadable expression on her face. You’re about to say something but Daniela places a gentle hand on your cheek, removing it to place a finger underneath your chin. She tilts your head ever so slightly to the other side to see where Ezrela kissed you. Daniela frowns.

There was a very present red lipstick mark.

No thoughts go through Daniela’s mind as she licks the pad of her thumb on her free hand. She doesn’t think when she uses it to clean the lipstick stain. She isn’t thinking, the only thing she can focus on is the fact Ezrela thinks she can just leave her mark like this. 

Daniela leans up and kisses you on the exact same spot. She presses her lips hard enough so her own lips can create their own stain. She is determined because you belonged to her. 

When she pulls away, she sees the dazed look on your face. For some reason, it leaves Daniela satisfied. She pulls you along with her once again, confident in the fact that you are only thinking about her. 

This thought is solidified when you return to your shared hotel room. Manon and Lexie went with the other girls to explore but you and Daniela decide to return to change into something different. 

But the plan is long forgotten in Daniela’s mind when she is pressed against the door of the room, your lips on hers and your hands tangled in the Latina’s hair. 

Everything is forgotten when she feels your lips on her neck, your warm hands underneath her shirt. When you pull away, Daniela looks at you with desperation in her eyes. As much as she wants you to be hers, she wants to be yours even more. 

In one swift motion, you pick up the Latina and take her to your bed. 

Tonight, she ends being yours in more ways than one. 

And she hopes you’re hers in the exact same ways. 

There’s a shift in your relationship and everyone notices. 

Daniela doesn’t wait for you to be done changing out of your practice clothes. She doesn’t sit in the lounge with you anymore, simply opting to read her book alone. She starts spending more time with Megan, Emily, and Manon with you not in sight. You show up to practice earlier than usual with Daniela showing up much later. 

It’s weird and everyone wonders what happened in Seoul. 

But what doesn’t change is the way Daniela’s eyes narrow when she sees you with Ezrela. The way her fists clench when they announce you would be in Ezrela’s group for the week. Everyone notices how Daniela immediately leaves the practice room when Ezrela runs up to you, attaching herself to you in a koala hug of some sorts. 

It leaves everyone confused and curious, but no one dares to say a word about it. 

It all comes crashing down when you knew this would be your last week at Dream Academy. You felt it in your gut the moment you finished filming the “Wannabe,” cover. The entire time, leading up to the performance, you felt off your game. You were constantly becoming distracted during practice, your vocal coaches often got frustrated with you, and the passion you had at the beginning has diminished significantly.

You knew this would be the end of your journey, and you aren’t sure if you were doing it on purpose or not. 

You’d hope that you could at least talk to Daniela about what happened. But, with the Latina avoiding you like the plague every single day since that night, the possibility begins to seem more far fetched as the days turned into weeks. 

You were upset. Of course you were. 

Daniela was supposed to be your person. She’s the one you would find yourself looking for in a crowded room. You know Daniela like the back of your hand and vice versa. If you two weren’t meant to be together like that then you would have been satisfied with just being friends. She brought you a comfort that you haven’t felt in a long time and now you feel as though you ruined everything.

So, when the elimination does in fact happen, you waste no time in leaving. You avoid everyone’s eyes as you walk out of the room.

Back at the dorm, you’re in the middle of packing your luggage when you hear the door open.  You don’t make a move to turn around, keeping your eyes trained on your task at hand. You wanted to leave immediately and forget any of this ever happened. The person walks up to you, their footsteps slow and careful and you just know it’s Daniela. You brace yourself, waiting for her to speak.  

Your suspicions are confirmed when you hear the Latina speak quietly. “Do you… Need help?” You reply with a shake of your head, folding the clothes that lay in front of you. You hear her sigh, speaking up again, “Are you okay?” You scoff in response, rolling your eyes. 

“Why do you care?” The question breaks Daniela’s heart because she does care. She will always care about you, no matter what. Daniela stays quiet though. She knows enough damage has been done. She watches you continue packing, trying to rid any of trace of your presence on Dream Academy. The Latina is about to leave to give you some privacy but you finally speak up, throwing the clothes in your hands harshly into your luggage. You turn around, a hard look in your eyes.  

“Why did it always bother you whenever I was around Ezrela?” The sharpness in your tone causes Daniela to step back a bit, surprised by how angry you looked in this moment. She opens her mouth to say something but you continue, your voice becoming harsher. “I thought the way you acted when you saw me and her together… I thought that meant something… Like…” You take a deep breath, your eyes beginning to water slightly, “like. I wasn’t fucking crazy for how I felt about you.” You whisper the last part, your voice breaking slightly. The pained expression on your face hurts Daniela even more than before but she feels frozen in place, she feels as though the words she wants to say are stuck in her throat and cannot seem to find a way out. You step closer to her, desperate for an answer. At least for more clarity on the situation at hand. 

You whisper again, your tone softer this time, “You had to have felt something…” you reach out to her, as if grasping for any physical sign to see that Daniela does love you. That this wasn’t actually for nothing and you being eliminated was worth it. But the way she steps away, the way she acts as though you burned her with the tip of your fingers, tells you everything you needed to know at that moment. This was your clarity. And that was Daniela Avanzini did not love you like you loved her. 

You step away, defeated. Any fight left in your body has gone away and you were now just another contestant who is leaving Dream Academy. You take one last look at Daniela, a sad look in your eyes. 

“I’m gonna go say goodbye to Ezrela.” 

You leave her, with those being the last words you utter to the Latina. 

Your actual last words to Daniela come in a form of a note she finds on top of one of your sweaters she always liked stealing from you. It’s folded nicely and sits atop her pillow, welcoming her when she comes back from visiting Megan’s dorm. She walks slowly towards it, as if she were to move too fast, it would disappear somehow. She picks up the note, and although it only had a few words, it was enough for Daniela to finally let out the sob she had been holding in since eliminations were made. 

This is not a peace offering. This was a goodbye.

a/n: could consider writing a part two but i hope you all enjoyed! currently taking any requests for stories or random thoughts. happy valentines day!

[inkdrinkerworld]

SOFT DOM REMUS HELPING READER GET OM HER GRINDDDD like i love working out and school and stuff sometimes I find hard to keep going once the motivation wears off not out of lack of discipline but more out of negative self talk he would nooooooot allow that

Reader’s having a it of negative self talk, mention of their body not looking the way they want it to and having lumps and rolls (I thought of what I say to myself to make it a bit realistic) but please don’t read if that’s gonna be triggering <3 thank you for your request, lovely

You’re on your third outfit and all you see when you stare into the mirror is nothing to be proud of.

You huff as you basically rip the dress of your body, pout in full effect as you rifle through your clothes for a good outfit.

“I swear to god nothing looks right.”

Remus turns from his spot in the bathroom where he’s shaving his face with a frown. “How do you mean dove?”

There’s not much for him to alarmed about yet.

“There’s something wrong with how I look I’m telling you, Rem.” A few shirts fly from your pile.

“I have to wear pink or red tomorrow for work and it’s like everything I own in those colours either make me look pregnant or like I’ve got extra limbs.”

Remus shakes his head and sets down the razor as he makes his way to you.

“Could it be that you’ve just gone off your period so you’re still a little bloated?”

You don’t want to hear reason right now.

You’re ugly and that’s all. But it’s not, because it’s untrue.

“Or a second thing which is much simpler, I’m just unattractive. And nothing’s right on me because there’s lumps and rolls.”

Remus shakes his head, stern as he meets you in the closet and sets your hands to your side with firm pressure.

“Cut it out.” His tone cuts through the air leaving no room for arguments. “You’re a day off your period dove, some bloat is normal. I understand that you don’t feel comfortable in your body right now but that’s no way to talk to or about yourself.”

Remus has a way of melting down the fat of every negative conversation you try to have with yourself and helps you be neutral about your body.

Your bottom lip juts out just so. “I just want to feel pretty.” There’s a lot less attitude and upset in your tone, just a little sadness Remus wants to wipe away.

He nods, kissing your forehead as his eyes scan your rack dresses. “How about you wear that red and white dress? And I can curl your hair tonight and help you do the bun tomorrow morning?”

You nod, tears gathering in your eyes. “I didn’t mean all that.”

Remus smiles, stroking your face. “It’s alright to be frustrated with the way you change baby, but there’s nothing wrong with the changes.” He kisses your nose. “Plus, no matter what you think, you’re the most gorgeous person on the planet.”

You giggle, a little shy under his doting. “Can I wear your jumper to bed?”

Remus rolls his eyes but it’s all fond. “This one yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

[orchidyoonkook]

LASTONELASTONE!! I did it! and within the promised time frame too, look at me go! (Im taking any wins atm, please dont mind me)

ONTO!

why am i sobbing right now 😭😭😭😭 this was so fluffy this hang out ahhhhhh yoon it was adorable 😩😩🥺🥺🥹😭🥹😭🥹😭🥹

I love them i love them i love them. I LOVE THEM. I love how easy they are with one another, how effortless and thoughtless and easy.

oc and jungkook literally have my heart at this point i mean i am speechless the fact that she made this so special for him and he was looking out for her during the exams and the freaking gift i can't stop sobbing 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

One thing about OC is that if she can create some solstice magic for somebody, she absolutely will. She's like me in the sense that she thinks holidays should be celebrated for their true intentions, and that no one should be denied that magic.

I love that he can't help it either, like it physically pains him to see her like that so he's compelled to help. He's such a good man, that JK.

THE GIFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTT. OH I WAS SO STOKED FOR THAT. I love that he did it, I love the thought that went into it. That he noticed she has older brushes, 'lower' (but still good) quality brushes, brushes that look like theyve been used to much, and he used that information and just automatically decided that her passions and talent deserved the best instead of the best she could get herself. That he didn't think twice about the price of the gift because money has never been an issue for him, but he thought about the gifts impact and how it could help her achieve her dreams.

i think about his gift versus her unintentional on and their contrast a lot. I really enjoyed writing them.

so it was a mix of sobs turns blushes because of that muscle use talk hey (what a switch up)

sobbing and blushing with you!

And I like a lil spice with my fluff, what can I say. Balance is nice. I also like the natual growth of conversation, in a way that's expressed with a game of wits that turns into more trust and respect by the end of it. That's a complicated sentence, I hope that makes sense. XD

but omg the tree and the star (yoon how adorable you actually make those i love it that little add you did there)

I did! second year of college yoon wanted a christmas tree in her dorm real bad, so she went to her local dollarstore and got a little one and little baubles to match. But they didnt have tree toppers! So i took a cereal box out of my recycling bin, cut out a star, glued tin foil to the bitch and put'er on top of my baby tree. I still have and use it to this day. She remains super cute and festive.

and they are hugging now look it's one step closer to a kiss i will take it

I personally find hugs to be more intimate and passionate then kissing when done within the right context. A kiss? you can kiss anyone and have it mean nothing. But a hug? To be held? An embrace where you just hold another person because of the emotions your feeling can only be expressed tactiley like that? Hits different for me.

i can't get over how fluffy and homey this was and with the bodyguard too it just captured my heart i love this chapter it's definitely in my top 10 PJK moments (basically it's every interaction they have that's why it's 10 you get it) 🥹

THE GUARDS. MY BABIES. I love the guards, I love their positive masculine energy, I love that JK has them, and I love that they like OC. He's a little brother almost to most of them, they're the kind of older brothers who clearly aren't afraid to give their little bro shit, but are also his biggest cheerleaders when it counts. I just. I love my guards. I was so excited to introduce them finally.

holy shit top ten!!!!!! I'm honoured, flattered and in dire need of that list in ranked order so we can geek out together. (also so i can compare the current list to the list when the series if finished.)

(also also that is of course, not a request, only a "if you ever wanted to do so, I would be more than willing to read and geek")

and now they won't see each other over solstice i wonder how that's going to go i just know the texts are not gonna stop flowing i can not wait to see why happens in chapter 10

Chapter ten is currently 13.1k. :)

And in a slightly different format. But only slightly. You'll see what I mean when it's released <3

yoon please give a spoiler like a minor one okay give us a line a quote something please 🥹🖤

👀👀👀👀

Picasso [3:24pm]: Hey, if I wanted to mail you something while ur home, how would I do that??

👀👀👀👀

yoon you know i adore you and seeing how you have grown as a writer is the most beautiful thing and i just know you are going to do so many more great things i want you know i am here always and i adore you, your happiness means the world to me and i hope you are smiling and your days are filled with happiness - kiki 🖤

You know? I thought it was raining from how wet my face and clothes were, but it was actually just the ocean of tears this just made me shed in a downpour.

I can never, and will never be able to tell you how important reviews and humans like you are to me in particular, but to writers and creatives out there who do what I do. There is no us without you. I will say it in every. single. review. you write me, but you and folks like you are the reason fic and fic community stays alive, and I can never thank you enough for it. I'm so thankful and grateful for your constant and unwavering support, and for being on this wild writing ride with me as I grow with it.

I hope I can keep up the consistency of the writing style, and only improve as I go, as well as not screw up this story you love so dearly. I promise to try my best.

I am absolutely smilling and filled with happiness. I hope you are the same <3

Xo, Yoon

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 9

Title: Sugar Cookies and Devious Confessions

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Exams season and Solstice? Consider YN locked in, loaded, ready to go, hangry, and sentimental. Jungkook is just along for the ride with a hefty side of acts of service, quality time and physical touch are his love languages. Who'da thunk?

Warnings: T, language, fluff, so much fluff actually, I've surprised myself, semi-sexual conversations, JK is a menace but Reader can keep up...mostly, touch of angst tbh, reader gets hangry and is bad at taking care of herself sometimes, but apologises and makes up for it, mostly just wholesome this time. And fun!

Word Count: 6,675

Release Date: December 8, 2024. 12:30PM

A/N 1: Hiiiiiiiiiiii. It's here, thank you to those who reminded me. I literally would have forgotten for the third week in a row without them. I love you all.

A/N 1.5: Chapter ten will be coming sometime between Dec 20th-30th as it is festive and that's all I will say about it.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Jungkook’s learned many things about you since your friendship started. 

From your favourite colours to your favourite brush to paint with. He learned that you are always team morally gray love interest in the books you read in your limited spare time, although that one was learned a little against your will. 

He’d wanted to know why you always went for them, and very begrudgingly you admitted you found it appealing when they’d do anything to protect the main character. That they always did what they thought was best or what needed to be done despite their sad backstory, because for some reason, they all had sad backstories.

Every. Single. One of them. 

And you claimed it suckered you in every time. 

But through all of your time spent together—specifically during midterms—Jungkook learned just how much you ignore all of your basic needs as a human being when it comes to exams season. 

How you’ll forget to eat all day in favour of studying, or staying up late to finish your practical exam projects, making absolutely sure they’re up to your impossibly high standards, disregarding sleep.

So it doesn’t surprise him when he turns the corner to the greenhouse cafe to see you, thinner than normal with bags under your eyes, slaving away at something on your computer. 

He hates that he can tell you’ve lost weight through your winter clothing.

You look up, briefly smiling in greeting. He can tell just from how long it took you to notice him that you need a break, a good healthy meal and some sleep.

He smiles back, but bypasses you and walks straight into the cafe. You don’t think twice about it, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Hey Vivian,” he says to the barista.

“Hey JK, the regular?” She's restocking some cups and lids to the counter.

“Please, but tag on a hot chocolate for YN and some tarts.” Vivian nods, typing the order into the cashing system, very much used to either of you adding on each other's order to your own at this point.

“Machines ready for you,” she says, already prepping the first drink—his by the looks of it.

Jungkook pays and waits patiently, watching you from the window. 

“How long’s she been here?” he asks over the currently frothing milk—that’s for your hot chocolate.

“Since seven. She grabbed a tea and hasn’t moved since.” 

It’s almost 1:30 now, and Viv looks at him knowingly. She’s watched you do this to yourself every mid-term and exam season since you started. 

“Ah. I see.” He purses his lips.

It’s only a few minutes before the drinks and tarts are ready. Jungkook grabs them and heads out the door, calling a thank you over his shoulder.

“Okay look,” he says to grab your attention as he stands directly in front of you. The act of walking to the front of you alone clearly not enough to gain it. 

Looking up, your eyes widen in glee at the treats he carries. You attempt to reach for them but he pulls them back.

“Nuh uh, you need food.” 

You look at him confused. “Those are food.”

“No, these are the reward. You need a meal.” 

You try to interrupt him. Most likely to say you do eat meals, but instant ramen or a box of mac'n'cheese do not count, and he cuts you off before you can. “A healthy meal, Picasso, something to give your body nourishment and energy. One that fills you up.”

You scowl at him. 

“But–”

“No buts,” he cuts you off again. “Healthy food. Full, happy belly food,” he says, gently patting his stomach so not as to spill his drink. “Pack up, we’re going to the cafeteria and getting you some.”

“But–”

“Y/N,” he says sternly, giving you a look that says he will not be budging on this, and that if you refuse, he’s going to throw you over his shoulder to ensure it happens. 

It was the voice of a future King, he thinks. Then internally shudders. That’s not who he is with you, but he can admit that sometimes this side of him comes in handy during times like these. 

“Fine.” You snip, very clearly not happy about this.

Fortunately, you don’t seem to have any art supplies with you today, just your computer, a notepad and pencil case. You gather them quickly, throwing them into your backpack with an annoyed look because you don’t want to stop, but he’s forcing your hand.

He doesn’t care. You need this, and it’s clear as hell you were not going to do it on your own.

You were so fucking stubborn sometimes. 

His mask, hat and baggy shirt combo mixed with some large combat boots and a slight slouch in posture has worked wonders disguising him from the public so far. In fact, he’s pretty sure it intimidates some people seeing as how they nearly jump out of his way. You’ve joked about it before, calling it his ‘scary dog privilege’…whatever that meant. 

Jungkook doesn’t mind, though. Despite being four months into the school year, and his speech at the beginning, people still fawn and stare at him. Trying to get his attention, his approval. Anything to get something from him, even if it’s just a look in their direction. 

He wonders if it will ever die down, if it'll ever go away. Or if with new freshmen every year, a new horde of people will seek him out. 

So, he’s grateful that with this little disguise on, no one bats an eye at him as you two walk the fifteen minutes it takes to get across campus to the cafeteria. He knows you’re more than mentally drained, because you’re not checking over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one realizes you’re with him like you usually do. 

You enter the main building, luckily the cafeteria on the ground floor, just near the back. Once there, you walk straight to the fridge of premade to-go foods. Grabbing a fruit cup, a chicken caesar salad, and a container of mixed vegetables with dip, you turn to him.

“Is this good enough for you?” you snark.

“Yep, great choices,” he says, ignoring your tone. “Very healthy and nutritious. Plus you nearly have all the food groups.”

“I do have all the food groups,” you say back, deadpan.

Wow…

You really need some sleep, he’s never heard you sound so lifeless. Or mean. You’re only ever truly mean when you’re beyond exhausted, too tired to care. 

He’d say your mood and overall vibe is like a mixture of brown and gray, but he knows if he said it out loud you’d make him specify which specific shades of brown and gray, so he keeps the thought to himself. Both not to provoke you and to be polite.  

“You’re missing dairy and grain,” he says.

You point to his hands holding the tarts and drink.

“Fair point,” he concedes, and trails you to the register, grabbing a protein shake from a nearby fridge on the way. His card is out and paying before you can reach for your wallet and you accept it, even too worn out to yell at him for buying you something. 

Hot chocolate and the occasional bag of tarts you're fine with, because half the time you’re also buying him his coffee and sharing your tarts, so you see it as a fair trade. But anything outside those and you damn near throw a fit, claiming you don’t need him to spend his money on you. 

You never want anything from him, so unlike everyone else in his life.

He leads you to a more private booth in the corner, scary dog privilege in full effect as no one dares stand in his way, and you very unceremoniously plop down, sluggishly shucking off your bag and coat. 

Definitely a brownish-gray. 

You two eat and drink in silence; you, slowly picking away at your food, him, finishing his drink then eating the vegetables from the container you don’t like. It’s a peaceful silence, contented as your mood gradually improves and some colour returns to your face the more you get into your system. 

The sight relieves him. 

“Sorry,” you say, eyes glued to the table, unable to look at him. And he knows it’s for the way you treated him pre-food.

“No worries,” he replies. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. That's good.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to push, but now that your mood’s improving, he hopes it’s safe to.

“Hey,” you look up at him, the bags under your eyes more evident under the artificial light and his heart breaks a little at the sight. “Promise me you’ll get some sleep tonight?”

A small close lipped smile finds your face, eyes soft, appreciative. The corner of his own lifts to match. 

“I promise I’ll try.”

You fall asleep early that night, 9pm. 

You don’t know what allows you to, but your exam worries fade and assignment anxiety slips from your mind the heavier your eyes grow. In the back of your head however, a thought slips through your defenses; you know it’s because of the look in Jungkook's eyes when he’d asked you too. 

The one of worry—genuine worry—for you. 

You hate yourself for causing it. You never want him to have to worry about you, god…he already has so much on his plate, you don’t want to add to it. 

But mostly…

But mostly you let yourself succumb to slumber because you don’t want to disappoint him. 

He asked you so kindly, and you know he had your best interests at heart when he did. He always does. 

You don’t have it in you to deny him that simple favour. To take care of yourself a little better.

So you sleep, just this once. For him. To help relieve him of the stress you caused.

And you know that that thought is what lets you until 10am the next day.

You feel better than you have in weeks.

You have everything you could possibly need to make all the recipes you have planned for today. Eggs, flour, sugar, soju, cutters, extracts, ginger, honey, chocolate chips, food colouring, some fruit concentrates and more are stuffed into the bags that dangle from your now struggling arms. There’s also another much lighter bag filled with a surprise for him that sits near the crook of your elbow. 

 Jungkook’s not going to know what hit him.

The door clicks open and you watch his eyes nearly leave his skull before he reaches to take them from you.

“Oh wow, you really weren’t kidding were you,” he says as he takes them to the kitchen with ease. 

Stupid muscles, you think, but the thought doesn’t hold for too long, glad at having your arm circulation back. 

“Solstice cookies are no joke in my house,” you say, following him.

“Clearly.”

He starts taking things out of the bags and you grab the one with the surprise in it before he can get to it.

“Won’t we need that?” he asks.

“Yes, but it’s not for cookies,” you start backing away towards the living room, bag behind your back. “It’s a surprise.”

Jungkook has a goofy grin plastered on his face as he follows you, and you put one on to match.

You stand in front of the coffee table and order him to sit and close his eyes, a sarcastic ‘yes ma’am’ comes from his lips, but he does as told. 

You set the contents of the bag on the coffee table; a small fake tree with built in lights, some tiny baubles in a box, a star, a polaroid camera and a custom, empty ornament.

“Okay, open!”

Jungkook opens his eyes and the same goofy grin returns, but this time there’s a sparkle in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

His voice is gentle and lovely when he asks, “What’s all this Picasso?”

“Your very own tree to decorate. We have lights, decorations, even a star for the top,” you say as he leans and picks up the star. “You said you didn’t really celebrate anymore so I wanted to bring some celebration back to you—if you wanted to, that is.”

He twirls the star in his hand, smile never leaving, as he inspects it closer. “Did you make this?”

You turn sheepish. “Ah… yeah. They don’t really sell mini toppers for the mini trees, just the baubles, so that guy’s made from the finest cereal box cardboard and tinfoil on the market.”

He just stares, at the star, at the tree, then to you. You can’t tell if you screwed up or not. Did he hate this?

But then he’s standing and you’re in his arms as he hugs you. 

You freeze, unsure of what to do for a second, before you let your arms go around him, hugging him back. 

He’s solid, you can feel the strength in him as he breathes, and the weight in his arms as they hold you. 

But also warm. So warm your cheeks start to heat to match the rest of your body that seems to be on fire. 

It ends before it barely started, and you find yourself missing him the second he’s gone. 

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head as if not realizing what he’d just done until after he stopped. You want to tell him it was okay, but he says, “thank you,” immediately after, and squats down to open the baubles. 

“You’re welcome,” you say as you watch, sitting down on the couch. He looks like a kid, the brightest of smiles on his face as he goes to place the first one, but pauses, and hands it to you. 

“You know better than me where to start.”

You giggle, placing the red sphere near the middle, and gesture for him to put on the next one. It continues like this until the box is empty, you then him, then you then him. He places the last ornament and looks to you, star in hand. 

“You do it,” you say. You’ve done this a million times with your mum, you doubt he’s done the same.

He carefully grabs the top branch that sticks up, placing the star over it. Your heart swells at how gentle he is with your handmade decoration. 

“Now the last step,” you say, as you reach for the camera. This was your favourite tradition with your mother, the yearly solstice picture. You have one from every single year after you were born, and even one with you in your mum’s belly. 

“Turn around,” you say, spinning your finger and he does, you follow.

You’re both on the ground in front of the tree, and you lift the camera, leaning into him. Still so warm. He leans right back. 

“Say 'Solstice!'” you call out, and smile.

“Solstice,” he says with you as you snap the picture.

You pause for a moment, making sure the image is done capturing before leaning away again. 

The image prints out, and you take hold of it, shaking so it develops faster. 

“Can you get some scissors, and a permanent marker?” you ask Jungkook. He leaves for only a moment, returning from the kitchen, scissors and marker in hand. 

You reach for the empty, custom ornament. It’s a camera, and where the lens would be is a spot for a picture. Cutting the polaroid to fit, you slide it in, and write solstice followed by the year on the back of the ornament.  You put it in the middle of the tree, letting the baubles frame it.

You don’t see Jungkook watching you do all of this, a look in his eye that would melt you if you saw. 

“And now for the magic,” you say, turning on the built-in lights. The tree twinkles as the little LEDs reflect off baubles, like stars on a clear night winking at one another.

You're too busy looking at the tree when you hear a click. Following the sound you see Jungkook, polaroid camera in hand, lens facing you. The image pops out and he grabs it, placing it on the coffee table beside the tree.

“Aren't you supposed to shake it?” you ask.

He looks purely serene as he responds. “Nah, polaroids have chemicals and dyes layered in them, so if you shake them you can get microbubbles or marks on them.”

You didn’t know that, but it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that he does. His talent for photography, a result of years of study and practice. 

“Oh, good to know,” you say as you take the camera from him, and direct him to look at the tree. You snap a picture to match your own, placing it on the table beside the one he took. 

He stays sat there, staring at the tree for a while, the occasional flit towards you before the tree once again.

“It’s perfect,” Jungkook says, breaking the comfortable silence. He clears his throat before adding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You don’t know what else to say besides that, but you can see the happiness in his eyes. Their glow. Their warmth. 

You don’t think you need to say more. 

He knows. 

Time is quickly passing, and you have five recipes to get through today. So as much as you find yourself not wanting to move, perfectly happy sitting here with him for the rest of the day in this beautiful silence, you can’t. The tree is only the beginning of your day together.

“Cookie time?” you ask. 

Jungkook looks to you and takes a deep breath, as if he was also content to stay where you were for the day.

Just you, him and the tree.

“Cookie time.”

“You bitch!” you say as flour flies from his hand to your cheek. 

You were three and a half recipes in, having made two easier recipes first to ease him into a more difficult one. Shortbread, maejakgwa, and gingerbread now sit around in tupperware and cooling sheets around the apartment. 

But because of that, Jungkook is slowly losing all seriousness as you retrieve the sugar cookie dough from his fridge. It was actually the first thing you’d made, knowing it had to chill for a while beforehand, hence the three and a half. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, all knowing smirk plastered on his face like a neon billboard. 

You refuse to sink to his childish levels, and remove the beautifully chilled dough from its refrigerator bowl. Wiping your face with a cloth to clean yourself of the flour, you order him over.

“Come use all your unnecessary muscles to roll this out, quarter inch thick,” holding out the rolling pin to him. The smirk lessons only slightly, but he does as told. 

“All my muscles are unnecessary, huh?” he says after a minute of rolling. You’re by the sink washing some dishes as he does and you can all but physically see the egging in his voice. 

“Yes.”

“And why’s that?” He asks as he finishes rolling out the dough and begins on his cookie cutter decisions. You’ve learned he’s particular about which one’s he wants to use for which type of cookie. 

“Because you have like a million eight foot tall, 450 pound security guards following your every move at all times,” you say, as if this was obvious. In reality, it was a solid team of six guards who were at their tallest 6 '4, and maybe 285 at their heaviest. 

Admittedly, they were all really nice guys, having met them numerous times over the months. And you were planning on stealing some of the cookies from today to give them little solstice bags. 

Jungkook’s never going to be able to eat them all by himself  anyway…you think. And even if he could, he really shouldn’t.

“So, because I have security guards,” he looks at you unbelievingly, “my muscles are unnecessary?” 

“Yes. Why have them if you don’t need them?” At this point you’re just teasing him.

“Lots of reasons,” and he starts listing as you continue to clean. “They look nice, but that's obvious.”

“I’m sure your groupies don’t mind that at all,” you sneak in under your breath, referring to his enormous, and rather lewd mouthed female following on social media. 

“Hey, you leave my groupies out of this, they’re nice people,” he says, pointing a white powdered finger. You scoff and go back to the dishes mumbling something about how they feed his ego. 

“There’s also the fact that I like being strong. I like that I don’t get winded from jogging up the stairs, and I like that I have the ability to help damsels who show up at my place with their arms full of far too many heavy bags.”

You shoot him a glare and he laughs. “You can’t say I’m wrong.”

You also don’t have to acknowledge that comment.

He takes it as a win in your ever ongoing battle of wits. And just to try and even out the playing field a little more, as you are currently winning by a landslide, he adds on a little more to his answer, hopefully one you’re not expecting, and therefore winning by shock factor.

“There’s other reasons too, but those are a lot less PG, to say the least.”

He—

Your hands pause their ministrations for mere seconds before continuing.

How did he say it so…casually!?

Like he didn’t essentially just tell you he likes being strong for bedroom purposes. A topic you’ve never been anywhere near speaking to him about, and he just… brings it up like that? So cryptically as if he wants you to ask for clarification. 

And you do want clarification, damn him!

You hate that it makes you curious. Hate. It.

You like knowing things, not to be nosey, but because you like the mental safety it brings. When you and Nel first started having sex you did a deep dive on everything you could, to make sure nothing was a surprise and that you didn’t hurt yourself or him if you tried anything new. 

Little did you know half of the research was for nothing. Nel has never been the most sexually adventurous person, whereas you wanted to try out new things, explore, see what you like via trial and error, he was fine with good ole missionary and a handful of other basic positions. 

What you two do now works though. And that’s what counts. Compromise. Overcome. Enjoy and respect each other's boundaries. 

But it makes you wonder if Jungkook knows anything you don’t. 

That reason alone is apparently enough for you to hear, “Like what?” leave your lips before you can stop it. And you internally freak.

What the fuck! You did not just ask him that. 

That did not just come out of your mouth.

You did not jus-

“You really wanna know?” he asks, eyeing you over his shoulder with a single quirked brow, like he can’t believe you said it either, but he’ll dish you if you want him too. 

How interesting. You don’t remember gaining this level of trust from him, to be honest about something so personal. So private. 

You wonder when that happened. 

No, you say in your mind. But your head is gingerly nodding yes. 

Stop that! You think to your body, betraying you once again.

Jungkook hums before picking up a cutter, a simple circle. 

“Well,” he punctuates the word with a cutter punch. “Uhh…there’s a certain level of—” a punch, “—power dynamic I prefer having, and they definitely help with that,” another cutter punch. “I also like being able to lift my partner with relative ease, or carry them if need be. Legs around my hips is a personal favourite.”

Your dishwashing slows as he continues, unable to stop the images that flood your mind thanks to your visual thinking. 

Stupid art brain.

A small pool of heat starts to form low in your stomach. Stupid art brain.

After some more circular cutter punches, you think he’s finished and you’re relieved, but then he switches to a spikier one and continues. 

“I’ve also learned that finger strength seems to be a fan favourite,” he jokes and you gulp, forcing that thought out of your head as soon as it enters like a slingshot.  “And most of my previous partners seemed to enjoy the fact that I could, uhm…well, that I could hold them in place while I did… that is…whatever I wanted to them.” 

You ignore the wetness in forming your underwear. This conversation, regardless of who it was with, was not helping you and your complete and utter lack of sex. 

Another enormous downside to long distance, your libido and its easily excitable nature due to lack of use. Maybe an appointment with your vibrator is due soon, if you’re this affected by these attempts at sterile descriptions of sexual-like encounters. He isn’t even saying anything expressly dirty. He’s trying to be as respectful and informative in his answers as he can.

Plus, you did this to yourself. 

“But if I had to pick, I think there’s a tie for my favourite part about having unnecessary muscles for non PG purposes,” he says, and looks at you with another quirked brow, seeing if he’s allowed to proceed.

You’ve entirely stopped washing the dishes. Too focused on not focusing on the growing need blooming inside you. 

Oh yes, you’re penciling it in right now: Vibrator appointment. Tonight. 10:30pm. 

Sharp.

Time to accept the consequences of your actions.

“Consider it a potential learning opportunity. Academically speaking, of course,” you say, as a way to make this educational. That’s all this is anyway right? To see if he knows anything you don’t. 

Right?

Right.

“If you say so Picasso.” He tears the leftover dough from the neatly cut cookies, and starts laying them on a baking pan. “First, I like that I’m strong enough to flip my partner over whether they’re, uhm...” he struggles for an ‘academic’ sounding word, but settles for, “restrained, or not.”

Heat. Everywhere. There's heat everywhere and you immediately go back to the dishes, changing the flowing water to ice cold and ignoring the throbbing of your core. You’re pretty sure if you slipped your hands down your pants right now, they’d be just as wet as they are cleaning the mixing bowls. 

Maybe you should reschedule to 10. Or even 9:30. Hell, why not 9 while you’re thinking about it.

“Secondly, I like the muscles because they help me make great use of walls.”

You nearly drop the bowl in the sink, not having nearly enough time to recover before he’s looking at you again, sugar cookie filled baking pan in hand.

“You ever done something like that?” he asks, sly smirk visible. He’s trying to make light of the situation, make it a joke for the sake of comfortability.

He’s spilling ‘all’ his secrets, why shouldn’t you spill one.

The oven dings, signaling the preheating is complete and it’s ready for use. He comes closer to you, only because the oven is opposite the sink, puts them in and sets the oven’s timer for 12 minutes. Turning back around, he’s not two feet from you.

You force your voice to be as smooth and cool as possible as you face him, your own smirk plastered. 

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

Yes, yes he would.

“Call your goons in, I have their bags ready.”

“They’re not my goons,” Jungkook says, texting Shen, head of his security detail. “They’re my guards.”

You’re both finishing up cleaning the kitchen, all of the ingredients are put away, the dishes are cleaned, and Jungkook is washing down the counterspace as you write the names of everyone on the little bags filled with the results of your combined labours.

The coffee table is covered in little polaroids from today, all still resting from when they developed. Half of them have some form of baking related mess on them, be it some flour or a small lump of dough. 

You look at one he took after throwing more flour on you, your nose is scrunched and it looks like half your face is white with the stuff. It’s cute. There’s another beside it, Jungkook is pretending to lick raw batter from the whisk, eyes wide, tongue outstretched. It’s chaotic.

They’re perfect.

Shen, Dae-Seong, Asa, Rowan, Micah and Hikari are Jungkook’s security detail. They all have shared apartments in the same building. Never too far away. Shen and Asa are stationed on his floor, Mikah and Rowan are on the floor below and Dae-Seong and Hikari are on the one above. 

“Guards, goons, same difference,” you say, but you hear knocking not seconds later, no doubt Shen and Asa. 

You go and open the door, welcoming them in.

“Hey Y/N,” Asa says, scooping you up for a hug, your feet dangling. Asa’s one of the guards who’s super tall, and he’s always been very affectionate towards you. Come to think of it, a lot of them are. 

“Hey Asa, how’s Natalie?” you chuckle, hugging him back lightly. Natalie is his wife, who's still back in the capital.

“She’s good, excited to have me home soon.”

“No doubt, say hi for me.”

“Yeah, will do.”

He sets you down just in time for another knock. 

Rowan, Micah, Hikari and Dae-Seong all make their way in too, giving high fives, light hugs or happy greetings to you as they do. Soon, you’re being towered over by men, feeling very small, but never scared as they are always so lovely to you.

You suspect you’re quickly becoming their favourite. 

Jungkook they’re used to seeing, they’ve known him for years, protected him for years. They give him shit, a nod or grab him by the neck with their arms as they play wrestle to greet him. No hugs or high fives to be seen with him, only laughter. Mostly at Jungkook. 

When they’re around, Jungkook is the most at ease you’ve ever seen him at. 

“So what’s up?” Shen asks. He’s the least affectionate out of everyone, stoic even, but that doesn’t surprise you. He’s responsible for the safety of the future monarch, that’s a stressful job.

You look to Jungkook, who’s now sitting on the couch. He signals with a hand that this is all you.

“I don’t know if you all celebrate, but just in case you do, Jungkook and I spent the day baking,” Rowan snorts at that, and you ignore it, motioning for them to follow you to the kitchen. The island carrying their individually labeled goody bags comes into their view.

“And this is just a little thank you for all you do from the jackass in the other room,” you point with a thumb to the wall the couch is on the other side of. The men snicker. 

“I heard that,” Jungkook calls.

“You were supposed to,” you call back, then to the group once more, “and it’s also a Happy Solstice from me.”

Rowan and Asa are still laughing at your less than kind words about their charge as you begin to hand them their bags. Each one says thank you as you do, and Asa gives you another hug. He may be 6’4 and god knows how many pounds, but really, he was just a big teddy bear—a lethal one— but cuddly nonetheless.

“We’ve got a decent selection, but feel free to trade,” you say, giving Shen his bag last. He has a thing with going last, you have no idea why, but you respect it. You whisper to him that he has an extra of each cookie, and not to tell the others, including Jungkook. He gives you the absolute smallest of small smiles, followed by a hushed ‘thank you.’

It’s the most tender you’ve ever seen him.

Micah pipes up. “What’s this one?” he asks, holding up a cookie.

“So, we’ve got gingerbread, maejakgwa, sugar cookies, shortbread and that, my dearest Micah,” the mountain of a man blushes at that, and you laugh, “is a yakgwa cookie. Think chewy honey and ginger.”

He pops it into his mouth instantly and you swear if he could, he’d melt into a puddle. 

“There’s no way King Pain in the Ass over there made these, they’re way too good,” Hikari says, on his third one. He seems to be trying one of each, seeing which he likes. So far? Apparently it’s all of them.

“Cross my heart,” you say, “it was a gallant team effort.”

“Thanks kid,” he calls to the prince, currently entering the room to see his guards happier than he has in a very long time. He will never admit it out loud, for fear of endless mocking, but the sight warms his heart.

Dae-Seong comes up to you, and very politely asks, “Could I get the recipe you used for the maejakgwa? My wife would love these.”

“Of course, Dae-Seong,” you place a kind hand on his forearm. “Give Minji my best will you?”

The man nods, grateful. 

All the recipes today were from your memory, so you get your phone, and start typing it out. 

You have him text it to himself from your phone when you’re finished, and use that as your que to grab the camera.

“Everyone,” you call out, and immediately seven pairs of eyes, with seven full mouths beneath them, are looking at you. Jungkook’s eating some from his own stash, or so you hope. “Crowd your favourite royal on the couch please, it’s picture time.” You shake the camera gently in your hand.

“My favourite royal’s back at the pala–” Hikari tries, but a punch to the shoulder from Jungkook has him laughing in favour of completing the sentence. 

You love the relationship he has with them. Like brothers.

Quickly, Jungkook is squished between the six men, one on either side and four on the floor in front of him. They tried to fit more on the couch but they're all so big that they couldn’t.

“Everyone needs to smile, and if they don't, I'm taking more until they do,” you say pointedly, eyeing up Shen. He only nods that he understands.

“Say Solstice!”

A chorus of deep voiced ‘solstice's' ring your eyes as you look through the eyepiece and snap the picture. It prints out and you leave it with all the others on the coffee table. You see that everyone is smiling in the picture as it develops. 

Perfect. Everything about today has been perfect.

After a few more minutes of chatting, the guards have to get back to their posts, and you’re at the door, wishing everyone a happy break as they leave. 

Shen, as usual, hangs back, wanting to be the last to leave. He’s standing beside Jungkook, both watching you as you bid the others farewell. 

“I like her,” Shen says to Jungkook quietly. 

“Me too,” Jungkook says back. 

Shen can see the prince means that in more than one way.

“Keep her around.”

“I'm trying my best to.”

It’s nearing 7:30, you’re both full after ordering dinner in, not wanting to be anywhere near a kitchen until next week, and working on assignments. Jungkook’s editing some photos, and you’re writing part of an essay from your phone, having completely forgotten to bring your computer in all the excitement. 

“Hey,” you say, sitting in your spot on the couch. You nudge him with a socked foot, he has headphones on so he can focus.

He doesn’t look to you, but removes a headphone. “Yeah?”

You lock your phone, brain mush for the night. “Can we move movie night to tonight? I have an exam at 8am on Monday and I want to use tomorrow to study.”

You’ve been thinking about it for a while, deciding that today would let you know if you needed to make the switch or not. And given that you’ve spent the day on your feet and partially socializing, you doubt you’ll be able to focus for the rest of the night, exhausted. But the good kind of exhausted.

You’ve been taking better care of yourself since that day with Jungkook. Not drastically, but you’re starting to listen to your body’s signals a little more, and right now it’s telling you you need TV and sleep. 

Appointment be damned. You’ll reschedule.

Jungkook hits the space bar and removes his headphones before closing the computer. 

“Yeah, of course. But–” he cuts himself off, looking at the tree in front of him. The lights are low in the apartment and it’s dark out, so the tree shines, glowing from within. The picture of you two still sits in the middle, and the now multiple stacks of polaroids sit around its base like presents. 

“But?”

“But that means I won’t see you after today. I only have two exams left, Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning, then I’m back at the palace.”

Oh. 

Right.

“We don’t have to, I can just study earlier in the d-”

“No! No, it’s okay. It just…it changes a few things,” he bites his lip as he thinks, and places his computer on the coffee table. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes Picasso, please?”

You’re very confused but comply, closing your eyes and waiting. You hear him get up and then him walking, then a door opens. There’s some rummaging before the door closes and his footsteps near again.

The couch dips right beside you.

“Hold out your hands.”

You hold them both out, palms up, and something bumpy and cylindrical is placed in them. 

“Okay, open.”

In your hands is a leather rolling brush case, held shut by not only matching leather strings, but a red ribbon and bow. 

“Oh,” you didn’t know you were doing gifts. “Jungkook. It’s—it’s beautiful.”

“Open it.”

You untie the ribbon, setting it to the side as you also untie the leather strings, and unroll. The case is filled with brushes from Olliveri and Schultz, the best brush makers in the realm. And a small, very surprised gasp escapes you. 

You’ve never once owned any of their products. Their brushes go for $50 at the lowest, for the smallest of brushes.  

Exquisite craftsmanship goes into each and every brush, hand carved wooden handles, the best bristles you can buy, and rust resistant ferrule. You’ve always dreamed of having one of their brushes, and now here you are, with a whole set.

They’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Jungkook I—I don’t know what to say. I couldn’t possibly acce-”

“Yes you can. You can and you will. Please. I even made sure they put in an extra fan brush cuz it’s your favourite.” 

You notice the two brushes on the end, identical. 

He remembered. 

A lump is forming in your throat, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“I haven’t—I don’t—,” you take a breath, “I didn’t get you a gift, though.”

“Today was gift enough,” he says, and you can see in his eyes he means every word. “I haven't had a solstice like this in…a really long time, and the memories from today are enough, more than enough. I promise.”

You don’t know what to say, you haven’t been at this much of a loss for words since…ever. You can only think of one thing to convey how thankful you are.

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you squeeze, his arms immediately around your waist. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, “I love them.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath too, savouring this moment for as long as he can. The feel of your arms around him, squeezing. The soft curve of your body up against his. His hands on your waist, you’re warmth under his touch, or maybe that was him, he can’t tell. And he doesn’t care. 

 It’s the first time you’ve ever initiated physical contact that was more than a nudge or playful shove. 

“You’re welcome, YN. Happy Solstice.” 

Chapter Ten: TBR

A/N 2: Fun fact! The tree and tin foil star are based on what I do irl. I have a dollarstore tree with little baubles and lights, but I made the star from a cereal box and tin foil because there weren't any toppers when I bought it.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hiiiiii, stumbled across your blog when trying to find COD fics to gush over and yours are SO FUCKIN GOOD. I love how you write the TF 141 guys!!

My personal fave is Simon and I thought the SFW ABC’s HC were so cute! I’m wondering if you’d be interested in writing a NSFW ABS’s for him as well!

Don’t rush it or feel pressured to do it tho. Thank you pookie ❤️

Oh my goodness! I remember the SFW Alphabet I did for Simon. That was forever ago, back when I first broke 1k followers. Compare that to now with over 6k and if feels like ancient history.

I am more than happy to do a NSFW Alphabet for Simon!

Word Count: 1.1k

NSFW Alphabet Template

A = Aftercare

Aftercare all depends on the relationship. If it’s a quick fuck or a casual thing, Ghost isn’t really all that interested in providing aftercare. He might allow a brief cuddle, or some stiff conversation, but he’s more interested in getting his dick wet. But if Ghost is in a steady, serious relationship, then aftercare is important to him. Not that he knows what he’s doing. Aftercare is not his jam, but if he cares about you, he will make sure you have it.

B = Body part

Ghost loves his hands. He loves that he can kill with them yet bring pleasure as well.

C = Cum

Ghost has a terrible breeding kink. Watching his cum ooze out of his partner makes him fucking feral. Not only does the sight of it turn him on, but he’ll verbalize how good his cum looks dripping out of you.

D = Dirty secret

During his final year of secondary school, Simon got into some serious trouble, and nearly ended up expelled. It wasn’t his fault though, and he felt scorned. So, to retaliate, he fucked the principal’s daughter (a classmate of Simon’s) on the man’s desk. Took her virginity while the principal was in a meeting and the two of them should have been in class.

E = Experience

Ghost is experienced with sex but not experienced with love. He can fuck you all goddamn day and turn your limbs to jelly. But the intimacy part is difficult for him.

F = Favorite position

Face down, ass up. Not him, of course, but his partner. For Ghost, it’s dominating and rough and fulfills every primal urge he has.

G = Goofy

More serious than goofy in the moment. Doesn’t mean that Ghost lacks a sense of humor. The guy can crack a joke, but if he is a bit silly in bed, the humor is dry and might go over your head. Ghost prefers to be completely invested in the moment, and his level of silliness isn’t something he’s thinking about. Now, if something happens during the act that’s actually funny, he will laugh and won’t shame himself or you for it.

H = Hair

Doesn’t care about hair but hygiene. Body hair doesn’t scare him nor does a decent bush. Didn’t shave your legs/armpit/bikini line/face/etc.? Ghost could give a shit. If you’re willing and consenting, and he’s willing and consenting, body hair doesn’t even factor into it.

I = Intimacy

Ghost is terrible at intimacy. Sorry y’all, but he is. Doesn’t matter if it’s a quick fuck or a committed relationship. This man will literally approach you and be like “you want to fuck?” and expect a very clear yes or no answer to the question. But hey, at least he’s clear when it comes to communication.

J = Jack off

Ghost is a rigorous masturbator. The every day kind of masturbator. While he prefers his privacy, nothing is sexier to him than when you’ve been a bad boy/girl/one and Ghost decides what you need is a bit of punishment. He’ll restrain you and make you watch as he jerks off, giving himself pleasure while giving you nothing. Not until you’re a begging, whimpering mess.

K = Kink

Breeding, primal, semi-public, CNC, breath play, BDSM

L = Location

Cramped, enclosed spaces. In the car, against a wall, on the sofa, in the shower. Basically, anywhere where Ghost can feel big. He enjoys having a sense of largeness about him, that he’s trapping you under him. That you cannot escape him when he’s fucking you.

M = Motivation

This man is constantly down to fuck. Sure, talking dirty is fun, but what he really wants is clear communication first. Tell him you want to fuck him, and tell him plainly, and then the two of you can do whatever. A clear, “fuck me, Simon” sets him OFF.

N = No

Simon leans heavy on consent. His hard “no” is no clear “yes.” If you cannot communicate that you clearly want him, he’s immediately turned off. That also includes how he sets up a CNC with you.

O = Oral

Gives and receives equally. He doesn’t necessarily prefer one over the other. But when he does receive, he is vocal. Ghost wants you to know that he appreciates you going down on him, but also how much he enjoys it. When it comes to giving, Ghost is sloppy…but in a good way.

P = Pace

Ghost mixes it up depending on position. If he’s looking to draw it out, he’s going to go slow just because he wants to watch you squirm and wiggle. But otherwise, he’s all rough edges, wants to hold you down and fuck you until you’re both senseless and dazed. Even in his roughness, he won’t hurt you, but he might leave some marks behind.

Q = Quickie

Loves a good quickie. Just say the word and Ghost will bend you over or put you on top of the nearest surface and go for it.

R = Risk

As long as Ghost has your enthusiastic consent, he’s down for anything. If there is anything new you want to try, he’s open to do it, but is also good about setting boundaries especially if this new thing might possibly harm you or himself. A risk taker, but understands that the risks might outweigh the benefits.

S = Stamina

This man has the stamina of a fucking horse. He can go for miles if he paces himself. Ghost isn’t the kind of guy to tap out after one round. Sure, he might need a few minutes to breathe, but he’ll be ready to go against shortly after.

T = Toys

While he doesn’t personally own a plethora of toys, Ghost isn’t afraid of using them. His favorite ones are the kinds that vibrate…especially if he can use them on you and have complete authority over the controls. Expect to be edged and have your orgasm denied constantly.

U = Unfair

Ghost isn’t a tease unless he thinks you’ve earned it as a punishment.

V = Volume

Ghost is vocal but he’s not loud about it. If he’s going to drop praises, he’s going to say it like he’s passing on a secret. You don’t find this man yelling his pleasure to the ceiling. He’s all soft grunts and groans. But you? You can be as vocal and loud as you need to be.

W = Wild card

Ghost is a visual creature. He enjoys simply watching you. Watching you get dressed and undressed. Watching you shower. Watching you get ready for bed or ready for the day. He loves looking at you wearing something sexy or nothing at all. He stares.

X = X-ray

Under those clothes, Ghost has a decent bush. Keeps it lightly trimmed but a bit wild. Absolutely a good mix of length and girth. Just above average size. He fits…snuggly.

Y = Yearning

When it comes to a committed relationship, Ghost yearns for you all the time. He is always ready, and always eager if you are. He thinks about you constantly.

Z = Zzz

If it’s just casual sex, Ghost is falling asleep immediately. The man is a rock. Lights out. But if this is a committed relationship, Ghost will stay awake long enough to get you the aftercare you deserve before promptly passing the fuck out. Sorry, but he snores.

main masterlist

[always1star]

valentines day with jjk men

Gojo who goes all out: taking the day off, spending thousands of dollars, making sure the day is absolutely perfect for his darling. He takes Valentine’s day very seriously. He wakes you up with your favorite breakfast in bed, one that he spent way too long making in the very early hours in the morning. He finishes off breakfast by gifting you a considerably large bouquet of red roses and a teddy bear the size of an actual bear. He beckons you to eat and get ready so you two can spend the rest of your day together. You go shopping (and come home with armfuls of designer shopping bags), go to a restaurant (that costs basically your entire paycheck for the appetizer alone), and drive around the city in one of his all-too-nice cars. You both fall asleep the second you come home, exhausted from all the love shared throughout the day. 

Geto who likes to treat Valentine’s day as if it were any other date. Don’t get me wrong though, because every date with him is special and unforgettable. He picks you up from your workplace with an assortment of purple, pink, white, and red flowers. He plants a kiss on your lips as you get into his car, and the two of you head to the restaurant that you seem to always come back to. Dinner is eaten, conversations are spoken, and the two of you head back home to watch a movie. Whether it be The Notebook or The Conjuring, movies are always enjoyable with him. The two of you bundle up under one blanket on the couch and share a couple snacks, very much enjoying your Valentine’s this year.

Nanami who prefers to do Valentine’s at home. Although going out and spoiling you is nice too, he would much rather stay at home with you. A mundane day is his favorite, considering his incredibly demanding life. So, for Valentine’s day, he skips out on whatever overtime he may be forced into, and comes home to you with some white tulips. You two make and have a candlelit dinner, bake a cake, watch a shitty romcom, have a warm bath while talking about your days, and sleep entangled with each other. It’s nothing special, but it’s something the both of you couldn’t keep yourselves from looking forward to. 

Toji who truly is trying his best. It almost makes you hysterical, seeing him be so stupified by a holiday for love, but you know he just wants to try for you. He comes home with totally irrelevant gifts: lilies (which is normal), a whisk, red towels, and play-doh. You’re dying laughing, clenching onto your core and holding onto the counter for support as you fall over from laughing. He’s just utterly mortified. So, in an attempt to make it up, Toji invites you out to dinner. Toji loves to see you all dressed up, so this is great for him too. He treats you to dinner, but the wait for a table during Valentine’s is absurdly long at every restaurant. Toji ends up taking you to get some random ramen place he knows, and after treating you to ice cream. The two of you come home and fall asleep. Some people may not have considered your day favorable, but you think it’s absolutely perfect and wouldn’t trade it for anything else. 

Sukuna who doesnt give a single flying fuck about Valentine’s day. But, he is willing to give it a chance this time around, just for you. He grumbles as he walks through the store staring at all the people deciding what to buy for their loved ones. He eventually picked up a box of chocolates, a bouquet of pink carnations, and a white stuffed bear because those just happened to be the things that were popular amongst other shoppers. He looks online for date ideas, and figures tickets to a museum wouldn’t be so bad. He surprises you with the gifts when you come home, and you are so excited. He thinks that maybe this whole “Valentine’s” ordeal isn’t so bad after all. He’s trying, and maybe soon he will see improvement, and that’s wonderful to you. 

lowkey a filler post bc my real valentines special is not done... enjoy this instead. happy valentines, everyone!

[xxgoldie]

hi, I would like to order a bouquet for Lighter 🤭 can the focus flower be lillies, with ivy, delphinium and heather as filler flowers, in pink paper wrapping? thank you!

-🐇 anon-

goldie's gift shop : order list for : lighter lorenz // lilies + ivy + delphinium + heather + pink paper [confessions + jealousy + first kiss + idiots in love + college au] florist's note : your friend was the one who brought it up, but it made complete sense - lighter was an attractive guy who lived with a bunch of girls. one of them had to be his girlfriend, right? it was an assumption you'd been running under almost as long as you'd been friends and studdy buddies. so why was he always looking at you like that? and why was your go-to coffee order always waiting for you when you met him at the library? and WHY did the words 'i need to tell you something' just leave his mouth???

wc: 1.2k a/n: this is the fic that was giving me grief, i just love college lighter a lot and this took so much reworking to try and do him any justice notes / warnings: lighter x gn!reader, basically just fluff, reader lowkey doing some simone biles level mental gymnastics, brief mention of burnice x pulchra, no use of Y/N

"I don't want to burst your bubble, but don't get ahead of yourself. I'm pretty sure he has a girlfrienzzd. Or he's a player. Or both."

Your friend's words had, unfortunately, very much burst your bubble. You'd just gotten home from the first meet-up for a group project, for which you'd miraculously been paired with Lighter, the guy you'd been pining for across lecture theatres since you started university, and you were excited to giggle and debrief with her over the phone. And you had, telling her how he was not only hot but so nice, that you definitely thought you had a chance, until you'd sent her his Instagram handle, which you'd gotten the courage to ask for just before leaving the library, and she went quiet.

The conversation shifted to a different kind of debrief then - she told you about how she shared a few classes with a girl he lived with, Burnice, and he was always meeting her after lectures, how his house consisted of him and four girls, and every time she'd seen him around campus he was with one of them. By the end of the conversation, your high hopes were left significantly dropped. No matter what way you looked at it, the way your friend described it convinced you - whatever the situation, there was no way he was truly single. You'd accepted it as true then, and there had been no indication that anything had changed in the last few months, even as your friendship with him grew.

So just what on earth was happening to you right now?

"I need to tell you something."

Those were the words Lighter Lorenz had just said to you. The classic, default, 'I'm about to confess' line. While standing at the door to your dorm room, uncharacteristically fidgety, avoiding eye contact, and- shit, was he blushing?

This was the last thing you'd expected when he'd messaged you ten minutes ago, asking if you were busy, if he could come over. You'd expected he wanted help with the assignment due next week. Or he was bored and just wanted to hang out. Or he'd gotten into some fight and needed someone a bit more sane than his roommates to see if his cuts were serious. All of them had happened before.

A confession? No. Not on the list of possibilities. You'd long since accepted that no matter how much you liked Lighter, he was off limits. You'd yearned from a distance, lamented to your friends and your notes app that someone else was lucky enough to have him, thanked the universe that at least he was private and barely talked about the relationship so he didn't see how your jaw clenched when you thought about it, and did your best to move on with your life. It was difficult, when the two of you had a weekly standing reservation at your favourite table in the library, and he regularly joined you for movie marathons in your cramped dorm room, but you'd been making a valiant effort. Because you had to. Because he was taken.

"Look, I've been dancing around it because I really value our friendship, but it's getting to a point where I can't just push it down anymore," Lighter continued, still sheepishly avoiding meeting your gaze, unaware of the error messages flashing in your mind, the complete loop he was throwing you for, "I like you. Romantically. Like, a lot."

With a deep, shaky breath, Lighter forced his eyes to finally meet yours. He wasn't sure what look he expected to see on your face - he'd hoped for joy, had prepared for both shock and pity. But your face bore none of those - instead, you looked monumentally confused, blinking at him like he'd given the confession in gibberish.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" "What? No?"

The words had slipped out of your mouth before you could think of a better way to phrase them, but at least now he was as confused as you were. For several seconds, the two of you stood there in the doorway to your room, eyes wide, staring at each other.

Then, you processed several things at once.

One: Lighter had never, to your recollection, said anything about dating anyone. Not once. You'd been running under the assumption for months, and he'd never said anything that confirmed it.

Two: You didn't even know which one of his roommates you thought he was dating. You'd seen how friendly he was with all of them; the barrelling hugs from Burnice, the makeup he bought for Lucy, the daily gym sessions with Caesar, the way Piper fell asleep on his shoulder. And had somehow never considered he was just like that with close friends.

Three: Lighter liked you. He bought your coffee because he liked you. He made himself free whenever you wanted to see him because he liked you. He came to you first when he got injured in a fight because he liked you.

And as it all hit you, the gravity of your stupidity, all you could do was laugh. You tried to restrain it, fearing you'd think you were laughing at him and not yourself, but the pure ridiculousness left you cackling until you were out of breath, a mixture of embarassment and elation as you realised that none of your problems were even real.

You retreated back into your room, beckoning Lighter to follow you as you sat down on your bed, trying to collect yourself. He stood awkwardly just inside, door clicked shut behind him, quizzical yet fears slightly soothed by the fact you wanted him in the room. In any other situation, he'd be more than content to watch and listen as your laughter bubbled past your lips until you cried, but right now, there were slightly more... pressing matters on his mind.

"I thought you had a girlfriend," you confessed, when you calmed your amusement enough to speak, "Oh my god, I'm such an idiot. Why did I think that?"

And Lighter had to laugh as well, heart thrumming at how relieved you seemed at the information.

"Who did you even think I was dating?" he questioned, padding closer to stand by where you sat on the bed.

"That's the thing, I don't even know!" you started laughing at yourself again, lying back on the bed, "One of your roommates. I think I'd have bet on Burnice."

"No way. Even if I was interested, she literally has a girlfriend - you know Pulchra?" he sat down next to where you lay, but the last dregs of his earlier unspoken question still itched at his mind. He was pretty sure he had his answer, because now that the universe had given you permission, you were looking at him in a way that could only be described as starstruck. "So... I like you. Thoughts?"

You couldn't help but giggle again, even though your cheeks were hurting from all the laughter. Then you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down towards you, pressing his lips to yours; clumsy, both of you surprised and smiling against each other, and melting into it perfectly.

After a couple seconds, he pulled back, grinning dopily at you lying and breathing heavily under him on your bed.

"I've been wanting to do that for forever." "I'll take that as you like me too?"

And then his lips were on yours again.

[utilitycaster]

I've seen some people compare Vax's resurrection in C3 to bringing back Molly (later revealed to be Kingsley) in C2E140. How do you think these two scenarios differ and why does one work and the other doesn't? Also, do you think C2 scenario would still work if Taliesin played it like it was in fact Molly that was brought back (as Mighty Nein originally believed) and not Kingsley?

Hi anon,

I mean, you kind of answer it here: Molly wasn't resurrected. Kingsley, a different aspect of the same fragmented soul within that body, was. This isn't bringing back someone who died; it's starting a new life from what was left. It's thematically coherent with the rest of the Nein's stories, both in terms of many of them coming together still getting over a devastating loss or change and becoming someone new in the ashes of that; and with the very specific endings of many of their stories: probably most obviously with Caleb, choosing to leave his parents to their rest and instead building his own life in the model of what he wanted before the Volstrucker training, but also with Beau embracing the Cobalt Soul, Yasha finding new love, Veth and her family restarting their lives in Nicodranas, Jester with a deeply altered but intact relationship with Artagan, Fjord with a new patron, and Caduceus with a renewed grove.

I admit in 2x140 I cheered that nat 1 on resurrection, and the success of the Divine Intervention gave me pause, particularly on the heels of such a fantastic moment between Essek and Fjord after it failed. I went into 2x141 with considerable trepidation, so Taliesin's choice to have Molly remain dead while still making the Divine Intervention mean something was an unexpected joy and some truly excellent storytelling. I do not think it would have worked well had he brought back Molly, though it wouldn't have been quite as egregious as Vax coming back, and I'll talk more about that at the end.

Vax coming back fails on every single level. On a basic level, there is really no mechanical or logical justification for it to happen. There is no attempt from Vox Machina to bring him back as a mortal. There is no reason for him to revert from celestial to mortal (and the fact that he'd already left at the top of the episode really underscores this; I'd still have my other complaints had he still been with Vox Machina at the time of Catatheosis but this really makes no sense); angels of the gods canonically remained such during the first time the gods became mortal. It is not something he asked for, nor Keyleth asked of the Matron. It simply occurs. Then, of course, there is what it means for the characters. What does it say that Keyleth never moved on? What does it say that Vax never gave her the space to do so and now she doesn't have to - particularly in the statements during 4SD that their actions both were somewhat unhealthy and that Vax's inability to let go is what enabled Ludinus's plan to succeed in the first place? What does it say, as this post points out, about Scanlan's choices?

And then there's what it says thematically across the entire decade of storytelling: What does it say about such stories as Orym's or Yasha's, about finding new love after loss? In a narrative where the party was faced with an incredibly difficult choice with far reaching effects (whether or not that narrative was well done, it was a story of choices) what does it say that Vax's conscious choice to become a revenant and have a few more days with the people he loved rather than remain dead was ultimately simply a long inconvenience?

And finally, what does it say about the casts' past statements? I was struck with the grace with which the cast handled the backlash from Molly's death. Liam spoke of the meaning of death in narratives; Ashly Burch shared an incredibly moving essay on the death of her partner at a young age; and the conversation on Talks in which Matt talked about the importance of death was one that at the time I dearly loved. In it, Taliesin pointed out the ephemeral and physical nature of Molly and the concept of that character, and how there was no way to bring back Molly without destroying the entire premise. The reason Molly wouldn't be as much of a failure is because at least it would have been driven by the actions and choices of the Mighty Nein, and that we did not have insight into how Molly felt about his demise.

Because that is the other thing. We've seen Vax multiple times since his death, at Vex and Percy's wedding and at the Malleus Key, and both times he was greatly changed and did not agree to stay. He didn't change his mind; it was changed for him. And in the casts' past statements, Liam has been an advocate (as he was in Molly's death) for the importance of death and tragedy. How does that square with all of what they said then?

It's damning that the only defenses of this decision have been entirely Doylist (when I have both Watsonian and Doylist critiques) - that Happy Endings Are Good. The thing is, Keyleth's story could have been a happy ending, as the Mighty Nein's was despite their loss. It was a choice to have Keyleth never get over it. That is, ultimately, the only choice that was honored. I do understand a desire for a happy ending, but I find this desire for not just a happy ending but a vanishingly narrow and particular one to be childish, self-indulgent, and destabilizing of previous storytelling integrity. The song Tokyo Sunrise always was in a major key, after all.

One thing that came to mind while I wrote this up was something a few people have pointed out about Dragon Age: The Veilguard, which is that it consistently has a message that prioritizing immediate catharsis often feels hollow in the end, and cuts off opportunities for growth and redemption, and the gameplay is consistent with that narrative. It can feel good to punch the First Warden, or to leave the mayor of D'Meta's Crossing to his fate, or imprison Illario, in the moment; but these all ultimately serve as a detriment to your goals. Even fighting or tricking Solas rather than giving him an ending on his own terms, the last choice you can make in a game that ends immediately after, is something many players have reported as feeling unrewarding after a day or two. I do wonder whether this decision, to bring back Vax, felt good in the moment, but will similarly sour and curdle in time.

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

Since it is my bday today I want to indulge in this post 😌

How the brothers + my favs would be for (my) Mc's birthday

* my MC doesn't like a lot of attention for her birthday so she requested for not a lot to be done! If you are alike my MC please insert yourself instead!*

Lucifer

He knows that you don't like much attention drawn to you because you don't know how to handle it all. So he plans something small for just the two of you and then his brothers for something more family related. His gift was something along the lines of random and silly since he tries to be more lighthearted for big events such as this. He does also get you something severely expensive but it was his favorite crystal grown in the devildom in a necklace. (He won't say how much it was)

Mammon

He doesn't understand why you don't like attention so much. It's your birthday! Take in all you can from everyone! He does realize not everyone is like him so he purposely decorates the outside of your bedroom door and waits patiently for you to come out so he can pop a party popper for you and be the first physical person to say happy birthday. He more so just sticks to your side (so like every other day) and keeps wishing you happy birthday or playing jokes that you are old and such. His gift was something you two could wear together (because he's possessive like that).

Levi

He completely understands not wanting attention drawn to you for your birthday. He since usually not noticed by his brothers will sneak into your room the night before your birthday and will have you two play games together all night. If you did have class they next day he would tell Lucifer it was his fault so you don't get in trouble. His gift is something severely sentimental. He panicked about 30 times trying to figure out what gift would mean more. He ends up getting you something that was in such small detail to a conversation you had that you had to rethink on it. You did praise him for such passion for your gift.

Satan

He also despise attention so he wasn't too judgemental on the ask of not doing too much. He settled on buying you damn near every cat item he could find. He even asked Levi to order certain things too. He sets your gifts in your room when he goes down to breakfast knowing when you'll get back it'll be a nice surprise. He doesn't make a fuss about your birthday but does wish you one when you two are alone together.

Asmos

Due to him knowing absolutely everything that you enjoy buying or looking at with your shopping trips together he bought everything he could but also was very precise as well. He knew your exact sizing and pictured you in the clothes to determine whether they would fit perfectly. He loves attention but knows you do not so he just gives you all the attention at home because you said at home was fine. He was practically dancing around you like Mammon all day.

Beel

He is indifferent on attention he doesn't despise it but doesn't love it either. He does however like giving you attention. He basically acted as himself throughout most of the day. But he wanted to be really amazing at giving you a gift so he decided to put himself through the discipline of making your cake. All the brothers were beyond amazed as he didn't eat any of the cake and just decorated and made it beautifully. He of course bought you other things but this was what made you tear up because he was fighting his sin the whole time just to make you happy. (You don't eat a lot of sweets so you gave him a lot of your cake)

Belphie

He's a brat so he requires attention only from certain people. He can ignore though. He doesn't exactly ignore you just doesn't really make a big deal that it's your birthday (which you appreciate). He did however go overboard on his gift giving since he isn't too great with words at times. He bought you so many pillows and blankets. But one thing he did buy that made you happy was matching cow pillows. You sleep with them almost every night now.

Diavolo

He always gets attention so he understands the overwhelming feeling of it. He of course is the one who goes the most overboard since he had the money too. You damn near have a whole new jewelry box because of him. But one gift that most sticks out is a crown. Now don't get the wrong idea he didn't make you a queen for your birthday. He just made it as a type of promise crown alike a promise ring where in the future he will make you his wife and queen.

Thirteen

She hides in a cave so she obviously doesn't mind not getting or giving attention. She does however have a hard time coming up with gifts for people. She thought hard about what to get you even asking for Solomons help too. She eventually settled on making you something. She made a thing of flowers that when only you look at them they bloom. They also last forever. She was very shy about giving you this and feared it wouldn't work. But once it did you immediately hugged her. (She won't admit it so easily but it was one of her only inventions she is hugely proud of)

Tis my birthday:D I don't feel much older but I'm just glad I'm getting closer to partying age 😈

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Does anyone actually say that Ladybug and Adrien are fake somehow?

Yeah, people absolutely have that take. It's what spawned the original post. One too many fics and shipping poles that treated Marinette and Chat Noir as somehow wrong for their crushes. (I apparently read fast. My ML fic's read count is in the thousands at this point. It's enough to let me notice trends that bug me whereas one fic would just be a shrug and move on thing.) On the Adreinette side you get, "Chat Noir is the true Adrien! Civilian Adrien is just a mask! Marinette only loves the fake Adrien so she doesn't deserve him!"

Chat Noir gets less flak, but I've seen it enough to know it's very much a thing. There's a reason Marichat wins out over Ladynoir in almost every poll. If you ever see one, read the comments for the logic and you'll see what I mean. People with this view seem to think things like, "Chat Noir doesn't really love Marinette because Ladybug isn't stuttery and awkward around him! He has to love her when she's a mess!"

This kind of thing is so popular that I had to stop reading fics that paired Marinette with other people because the "Marinette is the true version" thing showed up all the freaking time. So many of these fics felt less like shipping stories and more like Adrien bashing where he was punished for liking Ladybug and not Marinette. It was draining. Even my favorite one has a scene to make sure Adrien feels bad for missing what he could have had and it's a freaking no powers AU!

I actually had a really lovely conversation about this topic when the blog was young because this is one that gets under my skin whenever I come across it and I occasionally need to vent a bit. The kind person who indulged my annoyance straight up said that they used to think that the square "have to fall in love as Marichat bc that's when they can be real with each other." Which was not a stance that was unique to them by any means. They were just validating my first-hand observations of the way SOME people view the ship/characters.

There is a version of the true selves stuff that's genuinely sweet though. It's the version you basically summed up where it's less about these two being the "true" versions and more about Marichat letting the two get to know each other without the pressure of the crushes complicating things. After all, the canon square is only a few hours removed from love at first sight which certainly adds pressure that Marichat removes. The existence of this version that means I don't hate Marichat or even the words "true self", I'm just warry when I see them as I never know what I'm about to see.

While I get why canon's near insta love and subsequent writing issues would draw a person to Marichat, I'll also once again argue that the issue at hand isn't the various ship dynamics, it's canon's writing as the awkward Marichat arc shows. Even though the crushes only flipped after four whole season, canon Marichat doesn't feel any deeper than canon Adrienette or canon Ladynoir. It's played incredibly superficial and doesn't even bother to acknowledge that Chat Noir and Marinette have a functional friendship as established in episodes like Evillustrator, Glaciator, and Glaciator 2. Elation writes Marichat as if they've never interacted before and Chat Noir is just going on a date with a fan he's never officially met. Passion writes Ladynoir as awkwardly as Adrienette always was. Ladybug's months of platonic partnership did nothing to change how she acts when she has a crush or how successful she is at confessing.

In a better show, canon's Marichat arc would be used to set up Adrienette as a more solid couple. Marichat would allow Adrien to see that Marinette loves him even when he's being goofy, but they'd agree to not date because a hero and a civilian dating is too risky. Then Adrienette would happen and, oh look, Adrien can occasionally crack jokes and be silly because he knows Marinette can love him even when he's at his most Chat Noir in addition to being his most Adrien. Marinette is a little surprised, but fine with it. Canon doesn't go there though. As far as the show is concerned, Marichat essentially never happened. It was a one-off fever dream both characters completely forgot. Canon Adrienette has Adrien playing the perfect flawless boyfriend who never annoys Marinette with his jokes.

In summary, that post wasn't about saying that Marichat is bad or unhealthy or that there's no version of the true selves thing that's cute. It was me venting a bit after seeing one too many instances of people acting like Ladrien, Ladynoir, and Adrienette could never be healthy because friends to lovers is some sort of golden standard when it's absolutely not. It's a neutral preference. Each side is fine. What matters is how you write it.

Why the "True Selves" Theory is Insulting

Image for a second that you have a friend who's a bit of a ditz. She's also fun, creative, and sweet. You enjoy being around her, but you've never seen her as more than a friend. Then, one day, a fire breaks out at an event that you and your friend are attending. Your lives are suddenly in mortal peril and the same goes for everyone around you because you can't find the exit. You think that you're going to die.

Then, suddenly, your friend transforms. Not in a magical way, it's just a personality shift, but it might as well be magical because it's like nothing you've ever seen! The ditziness is gone, replaced by laser focus and a take-charge attitude that has everyone following your friend without question. When all is said and done, everyone lives because of you friend. As it turns out, her tendency to get easily distracted means that she's a fantastic in-the-moment problem solver.

Going through that completely changes how you see this girl. You no longer just like her, no, you're now deeply in love with her. You tell a mutual friend about this and they laugh at you, then say, "Don't be silly, that wasn't really her! Her true self isn't that brave girl who saved your life! That was special circumstances that don't count. All that counts is the way she acts when there isn't a crisis going on. It doesn't matter that you've always liked her and enjoyed her company, if you didn't fall in love with based solely on her ditzy self, then you don't really love her."

Most people would call this mutual friend insane because of course going through crazy experiences changes the way we view people! Imagine if you had an allergic reaction and your significant other's reaction was to panic and run away, leaving you to die. You only live because you manage to grab your phone and call '911.' That would understandably lead many people to reassess if this is the person they want to spend their life with just like the opposite experience might make you see a person as a good life partner.

Marinette is Ladybug. She gets full credit for everything she's done in the suit and it's perfectly fine for Adrien to become attracted to her after he sees her in action. It doesn't mean that he only values her Ladybug side. He quite clearly cares for Marinette, he just hasn't seen her in the right light for him to fall in love. (And, if we're being frank, Marinette acts like Ladybug all the time when he's not around or when he is around, but a crisis is going on. She's really not that different from her alter ego.)

Along similar lines, Marinette isn't wrong for being drawn to Adrien's sweeter side more than his over-the-top jokey side. There's a reason why Glaciator ended with her blushing. Compare the end of Glaciator to the end of Origins and, yeah, same energy because - in that moment - Chat Noir was letting his Adrien side out by being more sincere and vulnerable, which are the things that Marinette values most in a romance and the things that he rarely shows while in the mask. It doesn't mean that she hates his jokey side, it's just not going to win her heart when Adrien's right there being sweet and sincere while Chat Noir hides his feelings behind a smile and a laugh.

In fact, it's pretty insulting to Adrien to say that someone shouldn't be attracted to his more vulnerable side. That his sincerity is worth less than his jokes. Almost as insulting as telling Marinette that her Ladybug side doesn't count and she should get no credit for being brave as that's not really her. Loving her only counts if a person falls in love while she's behaving in her most over-the-top, cringe, embarrassing way.

I don't know about you, but I would never want someone to hold me to that standard nor would I hold my significant other to that standard! It's perfectly normal to have things that you don't love about your significant other. In fact, I'd argue that part of the magic of a real, lasting romance is having someone who loves you even though you're not perfect. If you are looking for a partner who never annoys you or does something wrong, then you will never find happiness because that person does not exist.

Now that I've said all of that, I want to add that I do think that marichat, "love both sides" stories can be cute. It's just not One True Path to Real Love. It's totally fine if the square starts dating based on the things that they find attractive about each other and then just continue to be in love as they learn about the other side. If anything, that's normal. Learning about a person is what dating is all about! A good relationship is no different than a good friendship, you just get some bonus perks if you're into that kind of thing.

I'll also note that I'm not criticizing stories where Marinette feels like she's the "real" version and Ladybug is the fake because that's a really understandable thing to be nervous about. Tikki saying that shit? Hard no. Terrible mentoring.

[therecoveryquotes]

I am teaching myself how to take up space. How to not apologise constantly for the way I live and breathe. How an apology isn’t something I am supposed to say before I speak in a conversation. How  I’m so sorry, isn’t something I have to say before I just allow myself the basic right of speaking about anything. I am teaching myself that I am allowed to exist on this planet without thinking of myself as a burden. How to not apologise for things that are out of my control. How to understand when people are trying to manipulate me into thinking the worst of myself and most of all how to stop thinking the very worst of myself as I deserve better than that from myself. I am teaching myself that humans can exist without assuming the very worst about themselves and how the people around them perceive them. How to not apologise when someone bumps into me and I immidiately assume it is my fault. How to not apologise when I ask a question because I think others will think I am stupid. How to love myself for these flawed bits of me no one has ever wanted to love before. I am teaching myself that all the lies my abusers told me about myself were so very wrong. How I am allowed to make mistakes. How as long as I apologise and amend things, anything is fixable if I still have love in my heart for the other person. How not everything that has ever gone wrong in every relationship is my fault. I am finally learning how to take up space as a human being. It’s taken a long, long road to get here. And I still have a very long way to go before I am done understanding that it is my job to take up space, that I am not just an afterthought or a secondary character in this gift of life I have been given. That who I am is not an apology, that who I am is not wrong.

— Nikita Gill

[aliteralsemicolon]

honestly, the whole ai fight or disagreement thing is kinda insane. we’re seeing the same pattern that happened when the first advanced computers and laptops came out. people went on the theory that they’d replace humans, but in the end, they just became tools. the same thing happened in the arts. writing, whether through books or handwritten texts, has survived countless technological revolutions from ancient civilizations to our modern world.

you’re writing and sharing your work through a phone, so being against ai sounds a little hypocritical. you might as well quit technology altogether and go 100 percent analog. it’s a never ending cycle. every time there’s a new tech revolution, people act like we’re living in the terminator movies even though we don’t even have flying cars yet. ai is just ai and it’s crappy. people assume the worst but like everything before it it will probably just end up being another tool because people is now going to believe anything, nowadays.

Okay so...no. It's never that black and white. Otherwise I could argue that you might as well go 100% technological and never touch grass again. Which sounds just as silly. There are many problems with AI and it's more than just 'robots taking over'. It's actually a deeper conversation about equity, ethics, environmentalism, corruption and capitalism. That's an essay I'm not sure a lot of people are willing to read, otherwise they would be doing their own research on this. I'll sum it up the best I can.

DISCLAIMER As usual I am not responsible for my grammar errors, this was written and posted in one go and I did not look back even once. I'm not a professional source. I just want to explain this and put this discussion to rest on my blog. Please do your own research as well.

There's helpful advancement tools and there's harmful advancement tools. I would argue that AI falls into the latter for a few of reasons.

It's not 'just AI', it's a tool weaponised for more harm than good: Obvious examples include deep fakes and scamming, but here's more incase you're interested.

A more common nuisance is that humans now have to prove that they are not AI. More specifically, writers and students are at risk of being accused of using AI when their work reads more advance that basic writing criteria. I dealt with this just last year actually. I had to prove that the essay I dedicated weeks of my time researching, writing and gathering citations for was actually mine.

I have mutuals that have been accused of using AI because their writing seems 'too advanced' or whatever bs. Personally, I feel that an AI accusation is more valid when the words are more hollow and lack feeling (as AI ≠ emotional intelligence), not when a writer 'sounds too smart'.

"You're being biased."

Okay, here is an unbiased article for you. Please don't forget to take note of the fact that the negative is all stuff that can genuinely ruin lives and the positive is stuff that makes tasks more convenient. This is the trend in every article I've read.

Equity, ethics, corruption, environmentalism and capitalism:

Maybe there could be a world where AI is able to improve and truly help humans, but in this capitalistic world I don't see it being a reality. AI is not the actual problem in my eyes, this is. Resources are finite and lacking amongst humans. The wealthy hoard them for personal comfort and selfish innovations leading to more financial gain, instead of sharing them according to need. Capitalism is another topic of its own and I want to keep my focus on AI specifically so here are some sources on this topic. I highly recommend skimming through them at least.

> Artificial Intelligence and the Black Hole of Capitalism: A More-than-Human Political Ethology > Exploiting the margin: How capitalism fuels AI at the expense of minoritized groups > Rethinking of Marxist perspectives on big data, artificial intelligence (AI) and capitalist economic development

I want to circle back to your first paragraph and just dissect it really quick.

"we’re seeing the same pattern that happened when the first advanced computers and laptops came out. people went on the theory that they’d replace humans, but in the end, they just became tools."

One quick google search gives you many articles explaining that and deeming this statement irrelevant to this discussion. I think this was more a case of inexperience with the internet and online data. The generations since are more experienced/familiar with this sort of technology. You may have heard of 'once it's out there it can never be deleted' pertaining to how nothing can be deleted off the internet. I do not think you're stupid anon, I think you understand this and how dangerous it truly is. Especially with the rise in weaponisation of AI. I'm going to link some quora and reddit posts (horrible journalism ik but luckily I'm not a journalist), because taking personal opinions from people who experienced that era feels important.

> Quora | When the internet came out, were people afraid of it to a similar degree that people are afraid of AI? > Reddit | Were people as scared of computers when they were a new thing, as they are about AI now? > Reddit | Was there hysteria surrounding the introduction of computers and potential job losses?

"the same thing happened in the arts. writing, whether through books or handwritten texts, has survived countless technological revolutions from ancient civilizations to our modern world."

I think this is a logical guess based on pattern recognition. I cannot find any sources to back this up. Either that or you mean to say that artists and writers are not being harmed by AI. Which would be a really ignorant statement.

We know about stolen content from creatives (writers, artists, musicians, etc) to train AI. Everybody knows exactly why this is wrong even if they're not willing to admit it to themselves.

Let's use writers for example. The work writers put out there is used without their consent to train AI for improvement. This is stealing. Remember the very recent issue of writer having to state that they do not consent to their work being uploaded or shared anywhere else because of those apps stealing it and putting it behind a paywall?

I shouldn't have to expand further on why this is a problem. Everybody knows exactly why this is wrong even if they're not willing to admit it to themselves. If you're still wanting to argue it's not going to be with me, here are some sources to help you out.

> AI, Inspiration, and Content Stealing > ‘Biggest act of copyright theft in history’: thousands of Australian books allegedly used to train AI model > AI Detectors Get It Wrong. Writers Are Being Fired Anyway

"you’re writing and sharing your work through a phone, so being against ai sounds a little hypocritical. you might as well quit technology altogether and go 100 percent analog."

...

"it’s a never ending cycle. every time there’s a new tech revolution, people act like we’re living in the terminator movies even though we don’t even have flying cars yet."

Yes there is usually a general fear of the unknown. Take covid for example and how people were mass buying toilet paper. The reason this statement cannot be applied here is due to evidence of it being an actual issue. You can see AI's effects every single day. Think about AI generated videos on facebook (from harmless hope core videos to proaganda) that older generations easily fall for. With recent developments, it's actually becoming harder for experienced technology users to differentiate between the real and fake content too. Do I really need to explain why this is a major, major problem?

> AI-generated images already fool people. Why experts say they'll only get harder to detect. > Q&A: The increasing difficulty of detecting AI- versus human-generated text > New results in AI research: Humans barely able to recognize AI-generated media

"ai is just ai and it’s crappy. people assume the worst but like everything before it it will probably just end up being another tool because people is now going to believe anything, nowadays."

AI is man-made. It only knows what it has been fed from us. Its intelligence is currently limited to what humans know. And it's definitely not as intelligent as humans because of the lack of emotional intelligence (which is a lot harder to program because it's more than math, repetition and coding). At this stage, I don't think AI is going to replace humans. Truthfully I don't know if it ever can. What I do know is that even if you don’t agree with everything else, you can’t disagree with the environmental factor. We can't really have AI without the resources to help run it.

Which leads us back to: finite number of resources. I'm not sure if you're aware of how much water and energy go into running even generative AI, but I can tell you that it's not sustainable. This is important because we're already in an irrevocable stage of the climate crisis and scientists are unsure if Earth as we know it can last another decade, let alone century. AI does not help in the slightest. It actually adds to the crisis, we're just uncertain to what degree at this point. It's not looking good though.

I am not against AI being used as a tool if it was sustainable. You can refute all my other arguments, but you can't refute this. It's a fact and your denial or lack of care won't change the outcome.

My final and probably the most insignificant reason on this list but it matters to me: It’s contributing to humans becoming dumber and lazier.

It's no secret that humans are declining in intelligence. What makes AI so attractive is its ability to provide quick solutions. It gathers the information we're looking for at record speed and saves us the time of having to do the work ourselves.

And I suppose that is the point of invention, to make human life easier. I am of the belief that too much is of anything is every good, though. Too much hardship is not good but neither is everything being too easy. Problem solving pushes intellectual growth, but it can't happen if we never solver our own problems.

Allowing humans to believe that they can stop learning to do even basic tasks (such as writing an email, learning to cite sources, etc) because 'AI can do it for you' is not helping us. This is really just more of a personal grievance and therefore does not matter. I just wanted to say it.

"What about an argument for instances where AI is more helpful than harmful?"

I would love for you to write about it and show me because unfortunately in all my research on this topic, the statistics do not lean in favour of that question. Of course there's always pros and cons to everything. Including phones, computers, the internet, etc. There are definitely instances of AI being helpful. Just not to the scale or same level of impact of all the negatives. And when the bad outweighs the good it's not something worst keeping around in my opinion.

In a perfect world, AI would take over the boring corporate tasks and stuff so that humans can enjoy life– recreation, art and music– as we were meant to. However in this capitalist world, that is not a possiblility and AI is killing joy and abolish AI and AI users DNI and I will probably not be talking about this anymore and if you want to send hate to my inbox on this don't bother because I'll block your anon and you won't get a response to feed your eristicism and you can never send anything anonymous again💙

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for sashene behind the cut; "soulmate Timberkon". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He thinks about asking Dick Grayson if he knows any dead “13”s, but he’d really rather not have that conversation with anyone but Tim, who is definitely not on a business trip right now and also has apparently changed his cell phone number and email and hasn’t been online on any account Bernard knows of since he dropped out and dropped off the face of the earth. 

Anyway, the guy already lied to him once; what, does he expect him to switch up just because he asks him something weird enough? 

Yeah, not likely, Bernard thinks. 

He leaves Dick Grayson his phone number like Tim doesn’t already have it and asks him to tell him to call him when he’s back in town, and then he leaves Wayne Manor like he actually thinks there is literally any chance whatsoever of Tim actually doing that.

“Robin” is one thing, especially in handwriting that Bernard only actually recognizes as Tim’s because he’s always thought Tim’s handwriting was friggin’ weird for not having any noticable little quirks to it like basically every other human being alive’s. Even “13” has more personality in the way it’s written, even looking like somebody who’s barely ever held a pencil in their life wrote it. Even–

Bernard . . . pauses. 

Why does he have “13”? If whoever his other soulmate was didn’t live long enough to learn how to write, then their name shouldn’t have shown up at all. That’s, like–that’s a thing, isn’t it? That’s supposed to be how it works? That’s what he’s always heard, anyway; people who never develop names, their soulmates were going to die before they got old enough to learn how to write. Which is some weird and unsettling fucked-up shit about determinism and destiny and the nature of time or what the hell ever, Bernard guesses, though also he guesses it’s just possible that if someone’s soulmate dies that early then the world just–rewrites itself a bit, kinda, and takes their impossible mark away, and people just forget that name ever existed on anyone’s soulmark, which actually wait, that might be worse, Jesus Christ that is not a thought he needed to have had, that’s–

Not the point. Just–either way, he does have a “13”. And it was red, it looks like. A pretty bright red, given what it faded to. Which is weird enough, frankly, because most people actually do not get soulmarks with color in them, but that’s a whole other thing. Like–whatever, Bernard writes his “B”s and "R"s both a little weird so they’re more distinctive; most people do something like that. Maybe 13 only wrote in red. Which again, makes Tim’s totally non-distinctive handwriting a whole weird thing that in retrospect that Bernard maybe should’ve thought to be concerned about sooner, but–yeah. 

He has a “13” on his chest either way, and someone wrote it at some point and thought of it as their name. Thought of it as their name strongly enough that that’s the name his soulmark manifested as. Like, Bernard’s heard of soulmark names changing every now and then, same as they can fade out, but it is ridiculously rare and–

Not the point, again. Very much not the point. The point is: what the hell? 

Bernard is maybe a little bit too stressed about this, but in his defense, he’s got a dead soulmate he didn’t even know he had and his alive soulmate has disappeared out of his life without leaving a forwarding address or even an email address or even an explanation–

Or even, like–a goodbye. 

Yeah, never mind. Bernard, actually, thinks that he is the exact right level of stressed about this. In fact, he could probably be a little bit more stressed than he is already. So like, maybe he’ll work on that, considering. 

No matter how appropriate his stress levels feel, though, really the problem is he just wants to talk to Tim about this. 

Or like–he guesses actually the problem is that Tim doesn’t want to talk to him. 

.

.

.

Things just–hurt, lately. Bernard keeps thinking about that, over and over. 

At this point, it’s pretty much all he can think about.

[aila0veyou]

I’ve been rewatching Death Note lately, and since I’ll be spending another Valentine’s Day alone, I figured why not write something to make myself feel better<3

LOVE NOTE

tw: female reader, dark and nsfw content, depressing thoughts, cheating, heartbreak, obsessive behavior, stalking, non-consensual touching, pseudocest, older man/younger woman (not underage), bad writing. This fic is inspired by the deadly notebook from the 2006 anime Death Note, but the rest of the story is purely a work of my imagination. Please proceed with caution.

The entire school was drenched in red and pink. Paper hearts lined the walls, roses sat in vases along the hallways, and every step you took seemed to land in a world overflowing with love. With Valentine's Day just around the corner, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement.

Couples leaned into each other, exchanging whispered affections, while hopeful romantics nervously confessed their feelings, eager to claim a valentine before the big day arrived. Love was in the air...sweet, overwhelming, and impossible to ignore.

Just a cruel reminder of something you could never have.

Love had always felt foreign to you, like a language everyone else spoke fluently while you struggled to understand even the basics. Call it dramatic, but no one had ever truly loved you. Every crush you’d ever had led to nothing, fading into disappointment before it could become something real. The ones who did show interest? They were never serious. Some were toxic, some were just rebounding, and some only saw you as a temporary distraction. None of them truly wanted you. Not in the way that mattered.

You had never been in a real relationship. Never been loved.

You envied your friends...if they even deserved to be called that. Your classmates, too, jumping in and out of relationships like it was the easiest thing in the world. They’d sit around, giggling and blushing as they gushed about their love lives, from romantic dates to thoughtful gifts, and even the intimate things they did behind closed doors.

You never had much to add to those conversations. So you just listened. Like you always did.

They never once thought to set you up with someone...not that you expected them to. In their eyes, you were the "inexperienced" one, the girl who prioritized academics and self-love over romance. Too busy. Too serious. As if love was something you had no interest in.

You moved through the rest of the day with a blank expression, forcing yourself to focus on your classes while trying to ignore the suffocating atmosphere of love in the air. Lunch was no different. You sat with your group, quietly picking at your food while they excitedly discussed their plans for the big day. Valentine’s. And, of course, the Dancing Hearts competition, the school’s grand event that everyone was required to attend.

They always acted so shocked when a few of you (including you, obviously) still hadn’t secured a date for the dance. As if it were some great tragedy. As if you hadn’t been alone every other year.

The rest of the day passed in a dull blur with just you, mindlessly scribbling down notes, barely registering the lesson as the familiar weight of loneliness pressed against your chest.

When the final bell rang, the halls filled with nervous excitement. All across the school grounds, students made grand, dramatic confessions to their crushes, love-struck and breathless. Meanwhile, others (yourself included) were stuck staying late, forced to help decorate the gym under the watchful eyes of teachers who had been assigned to supervise.

By the time the teachers finally dismissed everyone, the gym was only half-finished, decorations still scattered and incomplete. Not that it mattered to you. The sooner this was over, the sooner you could go home.

You had already texted your dad to pick you up, and now you stood outside the school gates, waiting. The cold night air nipped at your skin, and you instinctively hugged yourself, shifting on your feet. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional distant hum of passing vehicles. Most students had already left, except for a few lingering groups chatting under the streetlights, their muffled laughter carrying through the air.

You barely paid them any mind. Your gaze was drawn upward instead.

The sky stretched wide above you, a vast canvas of deep blues and blacks, with only a few stars managing to peek through the drifting clouds. The moon hung pale and distant, its soft glow casting a faint silver light over the region.

It was beautiful.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to get lost in it, admiring how peaceful everything seemed... Until something slammed into your face with a light thud!

You let out a sharp gasp, stumbling back as a stinging sensation bloomed across your cheek. Whatever had hit you landed at your feet with a dull thump.

You blinked, startled.

It's a notebook... A black notebook?

Frowning, you rubbed your cheek and looked around. But the street was empty, and there were no open windows or rooftops where it could have fallen from.

Your heart thudded strangely as you slowly bent down, fingers brushing over the smooth, cool cover. The title was embossed in bold, elegant print:

LOVE NOTE.

A strange chill ran down your spine.

Somewhere in the distance, a streetlight flickered. And for the first time that night, you felt like someone was watching you.

You flipped through its pages, finding them completely blank. But when you turned the notebook over, your eyes widened slightly at the sight of neatly written text on the back cover, a list of rules on how to use the… Love Note?

• To activate the Love Note, the writer must think about the target's face while writing their full name. Without these conditions, the effect will not take place.

• The writer must specify who the target will fall in love with.

• Once written, the target will develop uncontrollable feelings toward the chosen person within 24 hours. These feelings will manifest as love, obsession, lust, or devotion, depending on the writer’s intent.

• The effects of the Love Note are irreversible unless the writer destroys the page before 24 hours have passed.

• If a name is written twice with a new love interest, the previous bond will be severed violently, often leading to heartbreak, resentment, or madness.

• The Love Note cannot force genuine love. Only attachment, obsession, or lust. If the target already has strong romantic feelings for another, their emotions will distort, turning into possessiveness or desperation.

• If the chosen person rejects the target too many times, the target’s emotions may turn dangerous, resulting in self-destruction, violence, or obsession.

• The Love Note only works on humans. It has no effect on objects, animals, or any supernatural beings.

• If the owner of the Love Note dies, the effects on all targets will remain permanent.

Your brows furrowed as you read through each rule, skepticism creeping in. Was this some kind of prank? A joke left behind by some students for valentine's day?

Before you could dwell on it further, a sudden honk startled you. Looking up, you spotted your dad pulling up on his motorcycle. Quickly, you stuffed the notebook into your bag, not wanting to explain why you were standing there reading what looked like a love spell book.

Without hesitation, you jogged over and hopped onto the back of the motorcycle, gripping onto your dad as the two of you rode off into the night.

Later that evening, you lay in bed, wrapped in your blanket like a burrito, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. You jumped from one distraction to another, reading fanfics, chatting with character AI, watching anime such as hentai, just to feel something, anything to fill the hollow ache inside you. But no matter what you did, that feeling of emptiness clung to you like a shadow, your mind drifting back to past relationships...if you could even call them that.

You blinked away the wetness gathering in your eyes, sniffling quietly before sitting up. Deciding to distract yourself with schoolwork, you shuffled over to your desk, rummaging through your bag to pull out your lecture notebooks only to pause when your fingers brushed against something unfamiliar.

The Love Note.

Your breath hitched slightly as you pulled it out, your gaze locking onto the bold letters on the cover. You stared at it for a moment before flipping it over, once again rereading the neatly written rules on the back.

With a deep sigh, you flipped open the notebook to its blank pages. Grabbing a pen, you hovered it over the paper, hesitating. Who should you write?

Your mind raced, sifting through many different names of the people you knew. After a moment of thinking, your grip on the pen tightened, and before you even fully processed the decision, your hand moved on its own.

Ivan Volkov x Lucy Everhart

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭

The words sat there, staring back at you, absurd yet strangely thrilling. You swallowed, heart pounding against your ribs as you stared at what you had just written. Would it actually work?

Ivan was one of the school’s heartthrob. Handsome, charming, and a bit of a delinquent. As a star player on the basketball team, he had his own fan club, with many girls crushing on him and plenty of boys envying his fame. Unfortunately for them, he was already taken.

His girlfriend, Stella, was everything. A confident, intelligent class president who excelled in academics and had the poise of someone destined for greatness. They’d been together for over a year, and their relationship was known as the ideal "power couple" dynamic.

But, of course, gossip always finds a way. Whispers about Ivan possibly having a crush on Stella’s best friend, Lucy, floated around. Lucy was the quiet, gothic girl who stood out because of her beauty and introverted nature. She was the opposite of Stella in nearly every way. Most people wrote off the rumors as nothing more than attempts to stir drama, but despite that, some still wondered if there was any truth to it.

You thought, why not give Ivan a little push?

You weren’t sure what you expected to come from it, but you couldn’t help the nagging curiosity. You checked your phone, scrolling through your classmates’ group chat, hoping for some fresh gossip. After a while, you gave up. You realized just how ridiculous you were being. It wasn’t going to happen, was it?

With a heavy sigh, you closed the Love Note, pushing it aside as you focused on something more sensible, writing down the day’s lectures in your notebook so you could finally rest.

Completely unaware of the damage you have done.

Oh, you were such an adorable little thing in Pina's eyes. A tiny, fragile soul drowning in loneliness, silently envying those who had what you never did. Love. Affection. A place to belong.

He had been watching you for a while now, fascinated by the way you moved through life in dull shades of gray and blue. No warmth. No spark. Just a girl going through the motions, carrying the weight of a complicated, distant family and friendships that felt more like obligations.

The demon of love had always found the lives of mortals fascinating, watching them stumble through life, clinging to the belief that love was something sacred. They faced challenges, endured suffering, and sacrificed for the ones they cherished, all in the name of that fleeting emotion.

Some called him a darker version of cupid, others compared him to an incubus, but he was far more than that. He was a being who gifted love to humanity, weaving hope into their hearts only to watch as that same love consumed them, turning into pain, obsession, and despair. Nothing delighted him more than witnessing the way love, so beautiful at first, could unravel into something monstrous.

And lately, his newest fascination was YOU, the girl who had never truly experienced love, so different from the others he had encountered.

He wasn’t sure what exactly drew him in. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself, silent yet observant, blending into the background yet never quite invisible. There was a weight in your gaze, a quiet longing buried beneath layers of indifference. You watched others bask in affection, soaking in their happiness like a starving soul denied a feast. And yet, you never reached out, never dared to claim it for yourself.

How tragic.

How utterly delicious.

Pina had seen many hearts shatter, but yours… yours had yet to be touched, yet to truly bleed. And that, more than anything, made you the perfect subject for his little game.

With his ability to remain unseen by mortal eyes, he had the luxury of observing you without interruption. He watched as you groggily woke up to the sharp beeping of your alarm, your face contorting in mild annoyance before you forced yourself out of bed. He took note of the little details of how you moved through your morning routine, the way you showered, carefully picked your outfit, and adjusted your hair just right. He memorized your habits, the small quirks that made you who you were, the way you tapped your fingers against the desk when deep in thought, how your lips pressed together when you were annoyed, and even the fleeting smiles you gave when lost in a daydream.

He knew what made your heart race, what stirred frustration in you, and what dulled the light in your eyes. And the more he watched, the more fascinated he became.

Realizing that Valentine's Day was just around the corner and that you had no one to spend it with, doomed to another year of loneliness and self-pity, he decided to offer you a little something to make this special day more… interesting. With a mischievous grin, he deliberately let his Love Note slip from his grasp, watching in amusement as it landed squarely on your face. A soft chuckle escaped him as he observed your confused expression, the way you glanced around, searching for any clue as to where the mysterious little gift had come from.

His large hand enveloped yours, guiding the pen across the page as you unknowingly surrendered to his will. He hovered behind you, his towering presence pressing close, the heat of his body seeping through your thin clothes. His lips ghosted over the curve of your neck, a teasing kiss, followed by a slow, deliberate lick that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Such a good girl…" he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, rich with amusement. His other hand moved freely, fingers squeezing the roundness of your breast, grazing over your waist before trailing lower, exploring, tempting, yet careful not to wake you from your oblivious state. He chuckled softly against your skin, watching in satisfaction as you unknowingly sealed the fate of those whose names now stained the pages of the Love Note.

He watched with a devilish grin as you arrived at school, the air thick with whispers and gossip about what had happened the night before. Rumors spread like wildfire, students who lived in the same apartment complex as Lucy claimed to have seen her letting Ivan in during the late hours of the night. Those who lived even closer swore they heard unmistakable sounds of wet, rhythmic noises, breathless moans, gasps, and curses echoing through the walls.

Pina’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched the color drain from your face. You stood frozen, listening to the murmurs around you, heart pounding in disbelief. Across the hall, Lucy moved through the crowd, ignoring the stares and hushed conversations, her expression unreadable as she retrieved something from her locker.

Then came the confirmation. Ivan strutted past her, his hand landing on her ass with a sharp smack before giving it a firm squeeze. A playful pout crossed Lucy’s lips, her cheeks dusted pink as she shut her locker and hurried after him without hesitation.

The moment she disappeared from view, the whispers exploded.

"Oh my gosh, did you see that?"

"There's no way it's just a rumor now."

"Poor Stella… she's gonna lose it."

Pina chuckled to himself. The chaos had only just begun. And you... Oh, you had no idea what you’d just set in motion.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. You barely registered your classes, your mind drifting elsewhere, tangled in endless thoughts. Was it just a coincidence? Could it really be possible that a few scribbled words in that notebook had shattered a long-term relationship overnight?

It didn’t make sense. It was ridiculous. Impossible. And yet… the timing was too perfect.

Your fingers fidgeted with your pen as doubt crept in. Had you really caused this? Had you truly made Ivan cheat on Stella with just a name and a few words?

A shiver ran down your spine. If it was real… then what else could the Love Note do?

That day, you let your curiosity run wild, filling the first few pages of the Love Note with the names of friends, classmates, and even teachers. It was a thrilling, twisted experiment, one that sent shivers down your spine, whether from excitement or something darker, you weren’t quite sure.

Some names were written with good intentions. You helped your shy male friend by making his longtime crush suddenly see him as attractive, her gaze lingering on him in ways it never had before. You smirked when you noticed the popular girl, who had built her reputation on humiliating others, growing flustered and bashful around the nervous introvert she used to torment. Watching her get pouty and restless whenever he ignored her was almost too satisfying.

But then, there were your darker experiments. With a wicked grin, you jotted down the name of a teacher you despised, pairing him with one of his students. The effect was subtle at first with lingering glances, an almost predatory hunger in his eyes whenever the student spoke. You shuddered, both disgusted and fascinated by how easily the Love Note twisted people’s hearts.

Then, for the final test, you pushed a boundary even though you hadn’t considered it before. You wrote down the names of the school's beloved transfer students, who happened to be step-siblings. Just for fun. Just to see what would happen.

Later that day, when you slipped behind the school building, your heart pounded at what you saw.

The older sibling had his younger sister trapped against the brick wall, his hand gripping her waist while his other hand tangled in her hair, keeping her close too close. Their lips moved together in a heated, frantic rhythm, bodies pressed flush against each other. A soft whimper escaped her as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tightening possessively around her hip.

She should have pushed him away. But instead, her hands clutched at his blazer, gripping the fabric as if torn between resistance and desire.

A heat spread through your chest. This is real. You had done this.

And no one even knew.

A devilish thrill coursed through your veins as you clutched the notebook tighter.

What else could you do?

Pina watched in amusement as you eagerly experimented with his Love Note, his devilish grin widening with every name you scribbled onto the page. He giggled wickedly at the chaos unfolding before him, entertained by your sinful curiosity.

He found it adorable. The way you played matchmaker with such innocence, only to indulge in darker whims moments later. The school was practically buzzing with drama because of you, yet you remained oblivious to the true weight of your actions.

By the end of the day, you felt a mix of giddiness and nervousness, your heart racing at the mess you had created. You had filled nearly an entire page with names, each one influencing lives in ways you could barely comprehend.

Pina watched the lingering smile on your lips with a teasing smirk of his own. However, that smile didn’t last long.

Curiosity, or perhaps desperation, led you to write down your own name alongside your current crush’s name, Asher, on the notebook. He was one of the cool, effortlessly talented guys at school, known for his incredible art skills. You had admired him from afar for a while, and now, with the Love Note in your hands, you wanted to see if it could finally bring him closer to you.

Sitting in the gym during a short break after helping with the decorations, you let your pen glide across the page:

Asher Monroe x [Y/N]

𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞.

Then, you waited.

Asher was in the same room, also assigned to decorate the place, moving effortlessly as he adjusted banners and arranged lights. But as the minutes passed, nothing happened.

He didn’t glance your way. He didn’t approach you. He barely even acknowledged your presence.

Frowning, you gripped the pen tighter and tried again, this time adding more desperate words.

Asher Monroe x [Y/N]

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞.

You glanced up, hoping for some kind of reaction but Asher remained the same, lost in his task, completely unaware of your silent plea.

The realization hit you like a cold wave.

The Love Note… didn’t work on you.

You tried scribbling down your name again over and over as if sheer persistence could change the outcome. Nothing.

Frustration built in your chest as you tested other names, mixing yours with different people in the gym. Still nothing.

It wasn’t fair.

By the time you finally gave up, the school has already asked the remaining students to go home, and you were left with a deep frown on your face. You barely paid attention on the way home, your mind stuck on the cruel realization that the Love Note, this powerful little book that twisted the lives of others, refused to work on you.

Collapsing onto your bed with a tired sigh, you stared at the ceiling, the day’s events replaying in your head. Why?

Before you left school, you had tried one last experiment. Instead of using your own name, you wrote down two of your teachers’ names, just to see if the notebook was still functioning properly.

And it worked.

You had seen the subtle shift in their gazes, the way their interactions grew strangely heated, proving once again that the Love Note was real.

So then… why?

Why didn’t it work on you?

You let out a frustrated groan, pushing yourself up from your bed before dragging your tired body toward your desk. Your school bag sat there, untouched since you got home, as if taunting you. With a huff, you unzipped it and pulled out the Love Note, its black cover feeling heavier in your hands than before.

Flipping through its pages, you reread the names you had written earlier, the careless scribbles that had twisted people’s lives in one day. Every stroke of ink had power, shaping love, lust, obsession. Every name, every pair, every fantasy you had created came to life... Except yours.

Your fingers brushed over the page where your own name was scrawled over and over again, paired with different people. The ink stood stark against the paper, mocking you, taunting you.

Why?

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your hand running through your hair in frustration. How could something so powerful work so flawlessly for everyone else but not for you?

Was this a cruel joke? Some divine punishment?

Your chest ached with the weight of the unfairness, of the rejection. The one thing that could have given you the love you longed for, the romance that had always been just out of reach, refused to grant you that happiness.

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. No, this wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair at all.

"Now, now, there's no need for tears, love..." A deep, velvety voice purred from nowhere, sending a chill straight down your spine.

Your lamp flickered once. Twice. Then the light steadied, bathing your room in a dim glow. And that's when you saw him.

A man… No, a demon. An inky-black feathered demon sprawled effortlessly across your bed, his presence both commanding and sinfully relaxed, as if he owned the very bed he lay upon.

He lay on his side, watching you. One arm propped up, supporting his head, his golden eyes smoldering with dark amusement. The other hand rested lazily at his waist, fingers grazing his bare skin, dangerously close to the waistband of his low-slung pants. His long, toned body stretched effortlessly across the mattress, one leg bent just enough to look inviting...enticing. Everything about him was deliberate, controlled, and dangerous.

But it was his gaze that truly made your breath hitched.

He wasn’t just looking at you. He was studying you, eyes tracing every twitch, every unsteady rise and fall of your chest, every ounce of confusion and fear flooding your expression.

A slow, knowing smirk curled on his lips, and just like that, panic hit you all at once.

A sharp scream tore from your throat, and as you jerked back in alarm, your chair tilted too far, sending you tumbling to the ground with a sharp thud!

Then a quiet chuckle escaped from him. "Falling for me already?"

WHAT. THE. HELL.

"Who the hell are you!? And why are you on my bed?!" you shouted, pointing an accusing finger at him.

The demon only chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he lazily stretched, his wings shifting slightly behind him.

"No need to act so surprised, darling." he purred, his voice dripping with honeyed mischief. "I am Pina, the Demon of Love. That little notebook you've been having so much fun with? It used to be mine." His smirk widened as he tilted his head, eyes raking over you with an almost predatory delight. "And judging by the delightful chaos you've caused in just one day, I'd say you're quite enjoying my gift."

"You… you're saying you're a demon? And that you own this notebook?"

"Correct." Pina’s smirk didn’t waver, his dark eyes watching you with a glint of amusement.

You swallowed, gripping the Love Note tightly in your hands. "Wait, you said this notebook was your gift. What do you mean by that?"

The demon let out a low, silky chuckle, tilting his head as if entertained by your curiosity. "Exactly what it sounds like, love. A special little present, just for you."

Your brows furrowed. "Did you… purposely drop this notebook for me that night?"

Pina hummed, tapping a finger against his lips in mock thought before grinning. "Mmm… perhaps. Or perhaps it simply found its way to you because you were meant to have it." His voice dropped to something smoother, more intimate. "Tell me, have you enjoyed using it?"

You shot him in an uncertain glare, still feeling both suspicious and shaken at the fact that you were talking to an actual demon, a being you had only ever believed to exist in the pages of the Bible.

"I... I don't know." you admitted, gripping the Love Note tighter. "It was fun, but it also felt wrong."

Pina tilted his head, "Hm? But tell me… if it felt so wrong, then why did you keep writing?"

Your breath hitched. He knew. Of course, he did. He was a demon, the owner of this notebook. There was no hiding anything from him.

"I-I also have a question..." you stammered, trying to steer the conversation away from his unnerving gaze. "Earlier, I tried writing my name in the Love Note along with another student's name, but… nothing happened."

Pina's smirk widened, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement as he propped himself up on one elbow. "Ah… so you tried to use my gift for yourself?" His voice was teasing, almost mocking. "And let me guess… no matter how many times you wrote it, no matter how desperately you scribbled, your sweet little wish never came true."

Your grip tightened around the notebook, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Then how does it work?" you demanded, voice laced with impatience. "Why is it that I, the one writing in it, can’t experience its power?"

Pina let out a soft chuckle, stretching his arms before shifting to sit up. His wings ruffled slightly as he ran a hand through his dark feathers, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, love," he sighed, voice dripping with condescension. "Did you really think something as powerful as this would bend to your will so easily?"

You swallowed, trying not to flinch as he slowly slid off the bed, his movements graceful yet unnervingly deliberate. He was close now, closer than he had any right to be.

"Then why did you give it to me?" you shot back, refusing to step away even as his presence sent a shiver down your spine.

Pina smirked, tilting his head as he observed you with an unsettling kind of fondness. "Because I enjoy watching you unravel." he said smoothly. "Seeing you toy with something you don’t fully understand… the excitement, the thrill, it’s more entertaining than anything I’ve witnessed in decades."

You swallowed hard but held your ground. "You think this is... funny?"

He leaned in closer, his warmth nearly brushing against you, voice smooth like silk. "I think it's fascinating."

His golden eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering just a second too long before locking onto your gaze again. "The way your heart races… the way your breath hitches when you realize what you’re capable of. You can create love, destroy it, and bend it to your will." His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch barely there, teasing.

You frowned, gripping the notebook tightly as you met his piercing golden gaze. "Tell me, Pina…"

For a moment, something flickered in his expression at the sound of his name on your lips, an emotion you couldn’t quite place. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by that ever-present smirk.

"Is love really never meant for someone like me?"

Pina let out a low chuckle, stepping closer with an effortless grace. "Now, now, love… Who put such a tragic idea in your head?" His voice was smooth, dripping with amusement, but his eyes held something deeper, something unreadable.

Before you could answer, his fingers brushed against your cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin with a gentleness that felt almost out of place. Then, in one slow, deliberate movement, his hand shifted, gripping your chin and tilting your face up toward him.

"Love comes in many forms…" he murmured, leaning in, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your lips. "But tell me, my little heartbeat..." his grip tightened just enough to make your breath hitch, "is it love that you truly crave? Or the intoxicating thrill of being wanted, of becoming the object of someone's deepest and darkest desire?"

As if to drive his point further, his other hand slid around your waist, fingers pressing firmly against your back as he pulled you closer. The space between you disappeared in an instant, the warmth of his body radiating against yours. His smirk deepened, his voice dropping lower, silkier.

"Because if that’s what you seek…" he purred, tilting your chin up with a featherlight touch, "then let me show you what it means to be truly desired… deeply, endlessly. No fleeting human affection, just pure, unshaken devotion."

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! I hope I'm not too late. I was planning to post this yesterday, but it wasn't quite finished at the time. Heart's day was pretty uneventful for me (except for the fact that I received a sunflower from a guy at school, hehe) Thank you for reading! ♡♡♡

[dothestarsshine]

don't take this the wrong way

pit fighter!vi x reader

summary: you knew your regulars. some better than others. so, when a hot mess with a bad dye job doesn't show up like she normally does, you start to get a little concerned.

time period: between 02 act 1 and 02, act 2, post jinx betting on vi.

a/n: guys bear with me this was my first time writing in a WHILE. it's probably ooc but take it anyways

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mention of drugs, drinking, reader is a bartender, rebound behavior, implied self-destruction (vi)

To say you hated your job was an understatement. You were a bartender, which was actually a pretty nice gig down in the under city. But, you were a bartender across the street from one of the biggest fighting rings in the entertainment district, which meant that every night there was a fight (which was more often than not) at approximately 2:15 AM, a horde of people would walk in, demanding drinks to either waste away like the money they just lost, or celebrate their winnings. Either way, all you knew was that it meant so. much. work. Not to mention, your shift started at 1:30, so it wasn't even like you got to soak up the calm atmosphere the bar offered before then.

You sighed to yourself as you glanced at the clock. 2:00 AM. You could hear the roars of the crow from across the street, so you knew the fight was ending soon. A few minutes later, commotion from in the street proved you right. A few regulars walked into the bar first, most wearing a sour look. You pulled out their drink from under the counter before they even had to ask.

You had gotten into the habit of pre-making drinks a while back, once you realized the post-fight pattern. So, now at about 1:45, you started making 20 or so drinks for some regulars you knew would be coming in.

The night turned into a blur as you balanced making drinks and chatting with various patrons. You didn't even notice the lack of a certain regular until it was almost 3.

A quick glance at the drink you made for her reminded you. Your head started to swivel as you looked around for her. She usually sat at the bar, but maybe she wanted to try something different. You found no trace of her, but before you could keep looking, someone ordered another drink.

It was almost 4 now, and you still had seen no sight of her. You almost wanted to say you missed her.

Dye job, as you and your co-workers called her, was a whirlwind if nothing else. She came in, had one too many drinks, and then left stumbling and slurring her words. Not to mention a few of her co-workers had had to break up fights between her and another customer. Most of your co-workers hated her, always mentioning how disruptive or demanding she was, yet you had grown rather fond of her.

She was never disruptive whenever you were working, though. Sure, at times maybe a little distracting, sitting there with her busted lip and blue eyes that didn't seem to match the rest of her persona, but never disruptive. When you weren't talking to other customers, she would strike up conversation with you, asking about your life, your job, your interests.

So, the lack of Dye job tonight almost made you a bit sad. You collected the last few serpents someone had left on the counter for you, throwing them into the register behind the counter, before throwing your rag down onto one of the many spills that littered the bar.

"Hey there." She said, her voice gruff and... horse? "You uh.. got my usual?" You spun around to face her, taking in her appearance. You've seen her on a lot of bad days, but somehow, this one seemed worse. Her right eye was swollen and bruised, along with her hands and knuckles. She had cuts above her eyes and along her lip, and you could see bruises forming... basically everywhere.

"Yeah," you say softly, reaching into the cooler (where you'd placed her drink a few hours ago), and grabbing the small glass. You placed it in front of her, yet it was immediately off the counter and into her hand the minute yours left it. "You sure that's the best use of alcohol right now? Looks like your face needs some more than your liver." You say smugly, before returning to mopping up the surface of the bar.

"Here I thought bartenders didn't judge." She said sharply, her voice cutting through the silence of the now quiet bar. No one was drinking at 4:37 AM. Well, no one except her.

"Whoever told you that was lying. We judge the most." You say lightly, chuckling a bit as you continue cleaning. You were supposed to close at 6, but with the lack of clientele, who was to say you couldn't start to close a bit earlier. She got a bit quiet after that, and you were worried you had said something wrong. She just finished her drink.

"You wanna make me another?" She asks, though you knew you couldn't really tell her no. You make quick work of pouring her another, giving her slightly less alcohol this time, not that she was lucid enough to notice. She grabs the cup with insane speed for someone who was so beat up.

Every time you looked at her, you could almost feel how much pain she was in. Not just physically. Physically, of course, but also emotionally.

You tossed your dirty rag to the side, before pulling out a clean, new one, and pouring a bit of vodka into a glass.

Dye job lets out a quick chuckle at that, before making a snide comment. "Drinking on the job? Am I that much of a-- GOD!" She hisses as you push the rag up towards the cut above her eye, jumping back away from you. "Janna, you don't just do those things without asking."

"If I asked were you gonna say yes?"

"No."

"So I didn't. Ever heard the phrase better to ask forgiveness than permission?"

"You can't just go around messing with people like that!" She exclaims, almost animatedly. You prepared a reply, but then she added, quieter now: "I'm already miserable enough. Can't you just let me be?"

"It doesn't matter how miserable you are; those wounds are still going to get infected."

"Yeah, well maybe I deserve it."

Listen, you sure as hell weren't a therapist, but you knew that type of thinking couldn't be good.

You sighed a bit, before responding, "I'm not sure I believe that."

“Listen, I don’t come here for fucking therapy,” she starts, her words laced with a venom that you haven’t heard from her before, “I come here for a fucking drink, so back off.” She finishes, sliding back into her bar stool.

Your heart starts to sink with guilt. For some reason, you didn’t know, you felt bad for having obviously crossed a boundary. You started to worry: was she going to leave now? Never come back? Only come back when you weren’t working? 

“You owe me a drink for that shit.” She sighs, and you feel your heart begin to lighten at her joking tone. 

“Sorry, sorry.” You start, a more profuse apology almost slipping from your lips before she speaks again. 

“Nah,” she says, shrugging you off. “You’re probably right. It’s just been a uh… well hard few months now.” She sighs, downing the last of her drink. Another one slides itself into her hands, and she throws you a dangerous smirk. You feel your heart lighten, the same way it did a few moments ago. 

“Hey, I uhh. I get it. I’ve been there too,” you say softly, your head filling with unpleasant thoughts of a time you’ve long since wanted to forget about. You don’t even notice when Dye job’s eyes land on your face, studying you. 

The two of you sit there in silence for a second. You, lost in thoughts of something else, and her studying you. She watches you, taking in every part of your face, your lips, your cheeks, and Janna your eyes. 

“I guess that’s how you end up working at a bar at 5 in the morning on a Tuesday,” you smile at her, hoping that your horrible attempt at a joke wasn’t too painfully obvious. (It was, don’t worry.) 

She meets your eyes at that. The silence falls upon you both once again, this time a comfort, rather than a division. 

“So, Dye job, you got a name?” You start, after a moment, your hands placing another glass upside down on the rack above you.

“Dye job?” She repeats, almost offended. “Oh come on, it ain’t that bad.” She says, suddenly running her hands through her hair. 

“I mean, sure. Maybe when you first started coming in, but now…” you trail off, about to lace your hands through her hair to show her what you mean when you remember. Your hand stops midair, before you realize that you need to do something with your hand, so you awkwardly go to place it behind your head. 

You however, were not slick, and she most definitely noticed. She chuckles at your attempt at hiding it, but she decides to leave it be. 

“Violet.” She says suddenly, and you almost can’t remember what your original question was. Then it sinks in. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your mouth.

“Oh come on!” She chastises. “I didn’t pick it.” That doesn’t help. Once you finally regain your composure, you turn towards her again. 

“No, I just– I mean Violet does not suit you. Like at all.” You say, staring at the angst filled woman sitting in front of you, comparing her to her namesake, purples and blacks clashing in your mind. ‘

“What about you, bartender, you got a name?” She diverts the conversation, and you respond with your name. She repeats it a few times, you hearing your name a way you haven’t ever before. She laces it with curiosity, with desire. “Unfortunately, that suits you.” She prods. 

You turn away from her for a second, needing to place the glass that you were drying under the bar on the other side, leaving her and her thoughts alone to contemplate. 

“What time do you guys, uh, close?” She starts, her voice carrying a wave of hesitancy that you hadn’t heard from her yet tonight. 

“Technically, 6 AM. But no one ever comes in between 5 and 6, so usually I’m good to go at like 5:15-ish. Why, you want another drink?”

“No, I was uh, gonna ask if you were chill with me hanging here until you guys close.”

“Oh, uh yeah. Sure. That isn’t gonna be much longer. You sure you’re gonna be able to get out of that chair?” You tease, and she rolls her eyes.

“Yeah yeah, make fun of me all you want.” She says, her tone carrying a lightness it didn’t beforehand. You formulate a response, but she cuts you off. “Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but would you wanna do this again?” 

“I’m here every Monday, Thursday and Friday night,” you shrug, honestly a bit surprised she didn’t already know.

“No I meant, uh, not here.” 

Oh. Oh.

“Oh. Uh–”

“Listen you don’t have too–”

“Sure.”

“I promise– what?” 

The two of you bounced off each other like tennis balls. 

“I said sure.”

“You promise you aren’t just saying that? Listen I get if this is just a work thing–”

“Violet,” you caught her attention, her eyes reflecting a look that not many have seen, “I promise.”

She gave you the slightest smirk at that, before she made a motion to get up from her perch at the bar. 

“I guess I'll see you on Thursday.” She says, tipping a hat she wasn’t wearing at you. 

“Don’t let those wounds get infected!” You call out after her. 

“No promises!” You hear her faint voice, accompanied by the sound of receding footsteps. 

Suddenly, you were alone. Suddenly, you felt yourself waiting for the next time you had work, the job you hated seeming more bearable. You place the last glass upside down to dry, before gathering your stuff and locking the door, not dreading the next time you had to walk through these doors.