#but I will post them anyway to let them go

[hairspray-heart]

this is actually something important to internalize if you grew up with parents who manipulated you maliciously during abuse. just because someone once influenced you with the intent to harm does not mean that ALL influence equates to manipulation and/or harm.

for instance, my parents were both very manipulative, especially my father. one of his most memorable forms of manipulation involved a dangerous combination of gaslighting and love bombing—and mind you, it was not as benign as whatever passes for those terms online in 2025, but that's another post—and it set me up to feel threatened whenever someone experienced anything differently from how I experienced it, or whenever anyone was particularly affectionate toward me or praised me too highly, because it triggered a trauma response and I was inclined to defend myself.

this meant that my wife showering me with affection could feel threatening to me, even though it was not precipitated by the grievous harm that always preceded my father's love bombing. it meant that if she said that she didn't see something the same way I did, I might feel threatened, especially if the topic was a disagreement or some form of conflict, because my father often gaslit me about his behavior during conflict after the fact.

please note that in these situations, my wife was not manipulating me. she wasn't gaslighting me by telling me that her perception didn't match mine. she wasn't love bombing me when she showed me a lot of affection. my trauma response was activated by those behaviors, but the behaviors themselves weren't harmful at all.

in fact, discussing differing perspectives after a conflict is part of reconciliation. you need to communicate and figure out what happened so that next time, it can be a conversation instead of a conflict. that's healthy. it's fine for your spouse to shower you with praise when you got into the honors program you applied to or whatever your personal "BIG YAY! YOU DID IT!" situation is.

abuse can make normal or healthy actions flag as danger because they once signaled danger. our brains create a lot of heuristics to shortcut cognitive processes and let us react quickly. these shortcuts can save your ass in abusive situations. I have severe hypervigilance that flags shifts in mood, expression, posture, etc. those things used to signify danger with my father. seeing them early and preparing for fallout was vital to survival.

once you're out of the situation, you HAVE TO unlearn the behavior that once saved your life. this is hard! my body and mind internalized that reacting quickly and seeing through manipulations would keep me safe.

but the thing is, to interact with life is to manipulate. to pick up an item is to manipulate it with your hands. to write a good paper is to manipulate the professor to give you a good grade. to be kind and thoughtful to your friends is to manipulate them to like you and respond in kind. a baby crying is manipulating their caregiver to care for them. to interact is to manipulate and influence.

when you grow up in danger, your mind and body are primed to expect that the whole world and everyone in it is like your parents were. it's not. deprogram that shit once you're safe. go to therapy. learn to tell the difference between "this is a threat to me" and "I feel threatened by this" and how to differentiate response appropriately. it's okay that you feel threatened! learn how to respond with self-soothing instead of throwing accusations. teach your body how to feel safe.

anyway, go forth and live your best life and heal from your past trauma and apply a nuanced perspective to interpersonal relationships.

there's a fine line between being wary of manipulation and becoming completely paranoid because you get very close to the realisation that pretty much all human interaction involves doing things we hope will lead to a result we like

[amordixon]

𖥔 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 𝐏 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 𖥔

୨ৎ — always having to give yourself a minute to adjust to him but knowing that the sink down is going to feel amazing

୨ৎ — young!daryl fucking you quietly in the back of the trailer while merle is asleep on the couch

୨ৎ — you love it when he chokes you with his bicep as he fucks you hard from behind

୨ৎ — despite the idea scaring him, filling you up is a must

୨ৎ — you got mouthy. now he’s gotta teach you to be a good girl

୨ৎ — having to pull over because he needs you. now.

୨ৎ — finally getting daryl and rick to agree to a threesome

୨ৎ — he lets you use him in anyway you need

୨ৎ — he can't help but touch himself as he eats you out cause it turns him on so much

୨ৎ — stealing his only shirt and riding him in it

୨ৎ — i just know this man would have a size kink! that he loves feeling like he's so much bigger and broader than you

୨ৎ — giving young!daryl head like the good girl you are

୨ৎ — daryl is 100% a giver. he wants to give you as much pleasure as he can. loving the way he can have such an effect on you

୨ৎ — this is so young!daryl with a hot goth girlfriend oh my god

୨ৎ — letting young!daryl use you as an escape from his shitty life

୨ৎ — sneaking into daryl's cell at the prison because he decided to wear that stupid leather jacket while you were ovulating

୨ৎ — edging him till he's so overstimulated he's shaking. yum.

୨ৎ — sub!daryl getting the treatment he so blatantly deserves

୨ৎ — need this with daryl so bad. holy fuck.

୨ৎ — daryl likes his girls curvy. i said what i said and you cannot and will not change my mind.

୨ৎ — movies w young!daryl at the trailer park always end like this

ᯓ★ disclaimer : all character p link posts contain links from x, some of which may be unavailable if you don’t have an account or have been removed by the original posters. i cannot help this but i will try my best to update links when i can. sometimes trying to open them a few times works x

[randominchident]

rain delay kisses

a max verstappen x reader imagine

The first drop hits your cheek just as the national anthem fades. One, then another. Within seconds the sky gives in. Rain descends upon the track before the drivers can even walk off their marks. Officials scramble, teams drag equipment under tarps, and the inevitable announcement echoes over the speakers:

“Start delayed due to weather conditions. Expected minimum 30 minute delay.”

You're standing just outside the garage, barely under the overhang. The rain is relentless now, soaking the pit lane—ricocheting droplets bouncing off the tarmac like steam. But you don't move. You’re waiting. Looking for him. Waiting for him. You know in moments like this, race weekends where time together is sparse and sacred, he will coming looking for you.

You hear him before you see him. Distinctive voice dancing in the air somewhere to the left of you. He’s talking to someone. GP probably—about new tire tactics. You don’t turn around, he’ll see you soon enough.

Finally, once some agreement has been made, he steps towards the garage, helmet tucked under one arm, race suit unzipped to his waist. He spots you instantly, a flicker of something soft crossing his features.

Without a word, he walks over, tugging a team umbrella you didn’t notice before open. It’s barely big enough for two, but he angles it anyway, pulling you close by the wrist.

“You didn’t wait inside?” he asks, his voice quieter than the rain, but warmer with a tender love that has encompassed your past few months with him. Max has a way of making every moment together feel warm.

You shake your head. “Didn’t want to miss you.”

That gets the smile—the real one. Not the PR smile he slaps on. The one he only ever gives you when the world isn’t watching. His fingers brush a strand of damp hair off your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. His fingertips linger there, brushing against your face so softly you can barely feel them.

For a moment, it’s quiet. The chaos blends into the background like white noise. Nothing exists but the two of you, just for this moment.

Then he leans in, slow and certain. His lips meet yours in a kiss that tastes like rain and adrenaline. It’s not rushed. Not desperate. Just right. Like he needs this—you—more than he needs the race right now. Faint drops of rain patter on your cheek.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath brushing your skin.

“I think I like rain delays,” he whispers, a hint of a grin in his voice.

You laugh softly, your hands still tangled in the front of his race suit. “I think I do too.”

His hand is still on your wrist. Warm and constant

“C’mon, it’s cold,” he says, arm moving to wrap around your waist and tracing circles into the dip there, “Let’s go inside and warm up.”

I imagine this in the ‘slim pickins’ world post them being together for a little bit…

[callsign-swan]

Into The Maw Of The Beast

The beast comes to collect a girl from your village every year. When you are chosen, you don't realise that the beast is a man. A man under a curse that only you can break.

A beauty and the beast retelling

"It's an honour to be chosen," your mother whispered as she brushed her hair through your fingers. "When I was a little girl, it was my dream to be chosen. Until I became ineligible."

She patted her stomach, no longer round with child.

Everybody from your village knew the story. The Beast that kept your village wanted your mother, expressed it every year until she was eligible to get chosen. But, a few months before she became eligible, she got too familiar with your father. The pregnancy stopped her from getting taken by the monster, but he let his rage be known.

That was why he made it clear he wanted you. You, or your village loses his protection.

The elders in your village immediately agreed. Your mother immediately agreed. Anything to keep herself safe, you supposed.

So here you stood, dressed in all white. The white flowers found at the castle entrance adorned your hair, the way the monster liked. Many girls had come before you, chin raised as they stepped through those gates and disappeared forever. Nobody knew what happened to them, and you weren't keen to find out.

"If it was your dream, why didn't you do it?" You pushed. Your lip threatened to wobble, eyes threatened to well up with tears. But you weren't going to cry.

Her hand rested on your shoulder, her smile that of a sweet and caring mother. But you had never known her that way. "Because I was having you! And the monster doesn't want something spoiled."

Something spoiled.

Most of the girls taken before you were 'spoiled', to quote your mother. But the monster took them anyway. Funny, isn't it? You were your mothers saving grace and she is your downfall.

"How long before he kills me?"

The Girls taken by the monster were never heard from again. It was easy to assume they were dead, their corpses rotting in his castle. His beastly form chewing on their flesh, blood coating the lions mane surrounding his face.

If you were lucky, it would be quick. But nobody had the courage to tell you that.

Every year the monster comes for a girl in your village. Every year your village hopes that this will be the last. The last time he will come, the last girl to get taken.

Your mother took your arm. The white dress was supposed to feel flattering, but you couldn't help but feel naked. Exposed in a sea of darkness. But the black mourning clothes were traditional for the rest of the village.

"Do what he says and you may stand a chance of surviving," your mother whispered as she walked you towards your post. She might as well have been leading you into the arms of death.

"Nobody survives," you reminded her. "Nobody comes back."

The post. So many before you had been tied to it. His swift claws had cut through the rope with precision, avoiding cutting their hands. But then he grabbed them, hoisted them over his shoulder, and ran back to his castle.

Now, it was your turn.

You pressed your back to the post, and held your hands together behind it. Your mother brushed a stray hand away from your face as your hands were tied behind your back.

"If the monster didn't want you so, I could have promised your hand to any man in our village," she whispered, her eyes welling up.

You wouldn't cry.

You knew what she was trying to say. Any man in your village. Any wealthy man that just wanted a wife as a pretty thing on his arm.

In one way, you were being saved. In every other way, you were being sent to your doom.

The village would mourn you for a few days, as is customary. A few days before they revelled in the fact that they were safe, that they were protected. They had fulfilled their end of the bargain, the monster would fill his.

And you would be dead. The weight of the world would be off your shoulders and you would be gone.

Every light in the castle came on at once.

"It is time," one of the village elders said. He pushed your mother out of the way and stepped forward to lay his hand on your shoulder. "We thank you for your sacrifice, my dear. Your memory will be honoured for years to come."

Bullshit. You would be forgotten the moment the mourning period was over.

The village elder stepped away. The entire village stepped away, retreating into their houses. Doors were locked and windows were closed.

You remembered watching once, as a girl. The monster had flown down with leathery wings. He landed, walked a circle around the girl on all fours before using his claws to swipe through the rope.

On wobbly legs, she had stepped forward at his command. But then the monster looked towards your house, met your gaze.

You ran away from the window before he could get a good look at you. You never did see what happened to the girl.

You were not nervous. You had no reason to be nervous. Every possibility your mind could conjure up for what would happen to you inside of that castle was either not as bad as what would happen, or it was accurate.

Still, your legs shook like a fawn.

Did it take this long with everybody else? Your eyes searched the sky for the winged beast that would put an end to you.

You shouldn't have been looking in front of you.

You heard him before you saw him, claws scraping against the ground with every step he took. Your breathing became laboured as he stalked closer.

And then he stepped in front of you.

In the years since you were a girl, nothing had changed. That same lions mane surrounded his face, those same horns were curling towards his head and those same tusks were protruding from his mouth. His claws were just as big, his paws bigger than that of any bear. On all fours, he was the size of you, maybe bigger than you.

But it's blue eyes were so striking. So human.

As human as his eyes were, they were nothing compared to the rest of it'sbeastly body.

Chin raised, just like your predecessors. It observed you, just for a moment, but you refused to meet it's gaze.

It's human gaze.

Finally, he stepped away from you. A snarl tore from it's lips as he circled you. It walked around you, it's claws flying out to tear through the ropes binding your hands together.

You could've run. You could have tried to bolt, to see just how far you could get before it inevitably caught you. Surely, you wouldn't have been the first to try.

Like it could read your thoughts, it growled and you stilled.

"Come," it grunted and began walking. Feet frozen to the ground, you couldn't bring yourself to take a step in his direction.

To step into the maw of the beast.

Another growl. Standing on his hind legs, at his full height, he towered over you. Paws grabbed you, lifted you into his arms. His claws dug into your skin. Not enough to pierce. Not enough to stain your white dress with blood.

You wouldn't cry. Not for this monster.

Nobody came to save you. Nobody came running out of their house, sword in hand to save you.

Like those before you, they let the monster take you away.

The monster could fly. It spread its wings and took off towards the castle. It moved silently through the night, feeling only noise being the flapping of its wings and the roar of the wind.

"What will you do with me?"

It couldn't hear you over the howling wind, over the flapping of its wings. Another grunt left its lips, body dropping lower in the sky.

Nobody had any reason to go near the castle unless they were sacrificed to the beast. A brave few went near the case to collect flowers. Flowers that were woven into your hair.

You were going to die in this place.

The monster dropped onto one of the turrets. Dropping onto all fours, he let you go. His leather wings folded against his back as he took a step forward. "Come."

The only words the monster had said to her so far.

There was nothing you could see when you looked around. The ground was far below you, too far to see. The only way off the turret was to follow him.

So, you followed him.

"What will you do with me?" She asked as she rushed to catch up with him.

The monster stopped. "Nothing," he said. "Your job is to keep me company."

"Why?" You couldn't stopped the way you barked it, your voice demanding. "What about the other girls you have stolen from my village?"

He looked at you with those human eyes. So blue, so much like a man. "They didn't make it," he said and kept on walking.

There was no more room for questioning as he disappeared into one of the many rooms, the door slamming shut behind him.

In a moment of bravery, you tried to open the doors. But it didn't work; they didn't so much as budge.

Instead, a door at the other end of the hall swung open. There was no creak, or maybe you were just too far away to hear it.

With no other choice, you approached the open door. The hall was filled with portraits, old painted pictures of kings that used to reside in the castle, used to rule over the land..

That was before the monster took over.

You stepped into the room. A room that looked as though it was made for you. A four poster bed with flowery sheets and soft pillows. Lace curtains closed. A white wardrobe was pushed into the corner; if you opened it up you would have discovered it was full of beautiful clothes.

The bed seemed to call to you. Like a siren with it's song, it beckoned you closer. You stepped towards it and the door swung shut behind you. But it didn't panic you as you laid down on the bed, your head hitting the pillow.

***

"The house welcomed her," Charles said as he stepped towards Max. The only company he was allowed in his curse.

A growl left his lips. "She'll be gone before the end of the week," he said through a grunt and settled his beastly body in his broken throne. "Just like the rest of them."

"Max," Charles barked. "The house welcomed her!" He insisted. "The house welcomed none of the others."

Max released a breath as the sun set, his body becoming a man again. His fur, his wings, his tusks, disappeared. His horns shrank in size, fitting his face better. He still had claws, when he wanted them.

Aside from the horns and the tail, he looked human. He was mostly a man again.

Max picked up the mirror from his desk. "Show me her," he said and the mirror sprung to life. The glass seemed to glow before the image of him disappeared, becoming you.

You, laying in the bed the house had made for you. Charles was right. The house had fitted the bed with sheets for you. For every other girl Max had brought to the castle, the house hadn't tried.

For you, the house had made an effort. The house was doing what it could to make you comfortable.

Why you? What was it about you that had the house taking care of you? Maybe Charles was right.

Before he could see anything more, Max placed the mirror down. He couldn't start thinking like that, couldn't get his hopes up.

The curse wouldn't be broken.

"What will you do if she lasts the week?" Charles asked as he stalked towards the balcony. But he couldn't step outside; that was his curse.

Max raised his shoulders in a shrug. "She won't last the week," he said, crossing one leg over the other.

"If she does?"

Max glared at him, his nostrils flaring slightly. "It won't."

Nobody else had lasted a week in his castle. Why should you?

***

Never before had you slept in a bed so comfortable. Your eyes opened, but you didn't move. The pillow was full of feathers, the perfect resting place for your head.

Behind you, the curtains flew open. You turned to see what manner of creature was in your room. But there was nothing. You were completely alone.

The wardrobe doors opened, revealing the beautiful clothes inside. "What is this?" You found yourself asking as you sat up.

The wardrobe door moved, it's hinges squeaking. It was almost like it was waving at you.

"Okay." You pushed yourself to your feet, hands on your hips as you stood in front of the wardrobe. "What do you recommend?"

The wardrobe spat something out.

A dress, finer than anything you'd worn before. Red, made of fine fabrics and intricate stitching. No tears, no evidence of your mother trying to fix said tears.

Picking up the dress, you felt the fabric it was made from between your fingers. "Thank you," you said to the wardrobe and began getting dressed.

As soon as you were dressed, the door to your bedroom opened. "That way?" You asked and the wardrobe door moved again.

You left the room and stepped our into the hall. In daylight, it looked beautiful. The paintings looked beautiful, and the castle was certainly well taken care of.

"Where to now?" You asked outloud, waiting for the castle to respond. But it didn't. Maybe the magic was only in your bedroom.

Blindly, you wandered through the castle. Down a set of steps, covered in red carpet.

The castle was damn gorgeous. Sconces on the walls, beautiful stained glass windows. But there was no chance for you to admire it before another door opened.

Immediately, you stepped through it.

No beast waited for you on the other side. Instead, there was a man. A man in a broken throne.

He was gorgeous, his blonde hair looking closer to brown in this light. Freckles on his lip and his eyes. His blue eyes.

You hadn't taken notice of the horns on his head or the tail peaking out of his trousers.

"Shouldn't you be cowering in your bedroom?" He asked you with an air of indifference.

Hands behind your back, you sucked in a shaking, nervous breath. The Beast had to be around here somewhere, waiting to pounce. "The castle led me in here," you mumbled and looked away from him, unable to make his blue gaze.

Suddenly, he sat up straighter, his eyes going wide. "The castle led you in here?" He asked. "How?"

"The doors opened, so I went in."

The man in front of you stood suddenly. "The castle opened its doors for you," he said and you nodded. "And it led you to me."

You nodded again.

***

Shit. Maybe you were the one.

Chapter One... maybe

[joshujin]

dude, nice try! part one

series masterlist • submit a request

joshua hong has had the immense privilege of living 30 whole years without ever feeling so much as an ounce of jealousy. that is, until you come prancing into his picture-perfect life on your dumb burner account with evidence that his long-time girlfriend is cheating on him… with your boyfriend.

as he gets tangled up in your chaotic plan to get back at your adulterous partners, he begins to wonder if this growing discomfort in his chest was ever even heartbreak to begin with, or if it’s something entirely new to him—something that has the ability to eat him alive from the inside out.

♫ get him back! olivia rodrigo ⟡ hot girl bummer blackbear ⟡ lackin’ denise julia ⟡ mascara xg part one: 9.4k words pairing: joshua x fem!reader cw: strong language, mentions of/implied sexual activity, reader is highly emotional and tbh kind of crazy maybe even toxic but idc bc i support women’s rights and wrongs <3 tags: strangers to partners-in-crime to partners PERIOD, joshua pov, pining, he fell first AND harder oops, he’s also so incredibly whipped from the jump, a few smau bits but mostly writing, no smut, inspired by get him back! by miss rodrigo, basically john tucker must die except joshua is sophia bush hehe iykyk a/n:  as stated in the teaser, this was a request for jealous!shua, though you should consider joshua’s affair with jealousy a slow burn in this one haha. if you read the teaser, i suggest you do not skip the parts you recognize here because i did cut some stuff out for the sake of length when i posted the preview! okay enough blabbing, enjoy!

dividers by cafekitsune! cover by yours truly!

prologue

the first message from you came in the middle of the night, as if the idea of reaching out to joshua had kept you up and tortured you mercilessly until you just couldn’t physically take it anymore. in retrospect, the thought of that is silly to him considering your first and only message was ridiculous and absolutely ineffective for what you were trying to do. but it makes him smile anyway. you’re just… so you.

of course, there was also the fact that joshua had been sound asleep at 3 a.m., so your plan really wasn’t well thought out—more a product of the rage that joshua isn’t sure whether he admires or should have you committed for.

his instagram notifications had been off back then, back before he felt the need to see everything you were doing and saying and posting on the stupid app.

it made sense that he kept you waiting, not noticing your first message until about halfway through his sunday morning.

he remembers feeling like it was an unfair assessment to make of his own long-term relationship, especially coming from a stranger. he also remembers having to sit back in thought for several minutes after reading that to contemplate what on earth you could even mean.

of course he loved mina. she was his girlfriend of a little over a year. you don’t stay with someone for a whole year and not love them, right? it was such a bizarre idea to him at the time—the thought that anyone could be in a relationship and not love their partner.

unfortunately, he learned that you were right pretty early on in your friendship. you've proven it enough times now that joshua knows you often are—right.

as he sits here next to you now, frowning at the odd sensation in his chest and listening to you frantically explain yourself to the bewildered officer across from you two, he realizes that not only did he never love mina, he's also starting to wonder if he ever loved anybody.

he has let go of all his ex-girlfriends so frighteningly easily when he thinks about it. on the other hand, he’s had a single month with you and he can’t imagine his life without you in it anymore. the thought makes him nauseous.

so now, it’s not a question of whether or not he ever loved mina; he knows he didn’t. now… he’s wondering if maybe, without even knowing it, he was just letting each relationship he’s been in happen to him—if he was just passing time.

passing time until what?

he doesn’t have the courage to respond to his own thoughts with the obvious answer, but he knows it’s the wrong question.

he watches you speak at a million words a minute, your cuffed hands waving in the air erratically and your brows pinching in the middle as you plead your innocence. he was sure you thought it was a pitiable enough expression for the officer to let the two of you go, but really, it was just painfully cute.

he bites back a sigh.

yeah. it was the wrong question. passing time until *who?

one month ago

“i believe her.”

joshua looks up from where he’s pulling up your messages on his phone and glares at jeonghan. “she’s a stranger. and you haven’t even seen what she said. how on earth can you already believe her?”

his best friend shrugs casually, bringing his straw to the corner of his mouth and sipping his americano nonchalantly like they’re not discussing the possibility of joshua’s girlfriend cheating on him. “i have eyes? ears? literally any one of the five senses? pick one and it can definitely pinpoint mina for the absolute snake she is.”

“okay, you’re biased, you hate everyone i date,” he mutters, returning to his phone so he can show jeonghan your conversation—if he can even call it that. most of it was just you screaming.

“yeah,” jeonghan agrees easily. he never made an effort to mask his feelings, something joshua still wasn’t sure if he appreciated or loathed. “because you date the most vapid, boring people.”

“oh, i’m sorry my tastes aren’t up to your standards,” he snarks, not bothering to look up.

“y’know, i’m glad you apologized—someone had to,” jeonghan says dramatically, making joshua roll his eyes. “i don’t know why you keep dragging these duds not only into your life but my life as well. why should i have to suffer too? you don’t even like any of these people.”

joshua immediately puts his phone down on the table. this is now the second time in 24 hours someone has claimed he doesn’t love or like mina. jeonghan raises an eyebrow at his sudden attention.

“what makes you say i don’t like mina?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

the man sitting across from him scoffs before putting his drink down and leaning his elbows on the table. “do you like mina?” jeonghan dodges the question.

“of course i like mina,” he says incredulously. “why would i stay with her this long if i didn’t like her?”

“beats me, i’d like to know too,” he retorts.

“jeonghan.”

he sighs, knowing he’s wearing joshua’s usually never-ending patience thin today. “okay, fine. you like mina,” he says in a way that blatantly confirms he doesn’t believe him. “what exactly do you like about her?”

“what?”

“what do you like about her?” he repeats easily.

“what do you mean?” joshua asks when his best friend doesn’t clarify.

jeonghan looks at him like he has two heads. “what do you mean what do i mean?” he asks, irritated. “it’s not some kind of trick question. what do you like about your girlfriend, dude?”

joshua is dismayed at his own silence. he realizes the first things that come to mind when he thinks about mina are physical traits. he likes her long hair. he likes the way she dresses. he likes the way she does her makeup. he likes her lip gloss—wait, no, not really because she doesn’t let him kiss her when she has it on… which is almost always. sure, she’s pretty, but… what does he really like about her?

he doesn’t have the time to ask himself what it could mean that he doesn’t have a meaningful answer, and jeonghan doesn’t have the time to laugh in his face and drive his point home. because at that moment, his phone pings, and it’s one message from you, just a little over 24 hours since your last message about him being heartless went ignored.

joshua glances down and feels his stomach turn.

i have evidence.

an hour later, joshua and jeonghan are sprawled across the latter’s living room. when they’d seen your message, both of them had quickly and wordlessly vacated the cafe they were holed up in, gotten to jeonghan’s apartment frighteningly fast, and rifled through the series of messages you sent—all of them photos you took of your boyfriend’s phone screen.

at first, joshua was just annoyed at how hard snapchat made it to read messages; most of the ones sent by whoever your boyfriend was were deleted. he was ready to wave you off and call your “evidence” a reach. but then, he got to more damning photos—photos he was a little vexed jeonghan got to see too.

because they just proved his know-it-all best friend right. mina was a fucking snake.

he’s shocked at the lengths they went to to be able to communicate with each other without being caught.

but perhaps the most damning piece of evidence of them all comes last: a photo of a woman’s naked back as she laid on her side in a bed—that wasn’t joshua’s or mina’s—away from the camera. it could’ve been anyone. the small tattoo at the base of her neck told joshua exactly who it was.

it wasn’t something he could refute anymore; you were obviously not a random person and you definitely weren’t mingyu playing some kind of sick prank.

“so what now?” jeonghan asks, both of them still starfished on the floor and staring at the ceiling after spending several minutes furiously swiping and cussing at his screen. “let’s fill all her shampoo bottles with hair remover,” he answers his own question before joshua can even open his mouth. “oh! or we can follow her around, inevitably find this tool, and kidnap him! i’m sure this y/n person will appreciate that too!”

joshua doesn’t bother entertaining his best friend with a proper response, choosing to ignore the suggestions altogether. his mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to find the point in his relationship mina might have started straying away. has it been happening the entire time? or did she recently decide joshua wasn’t fulfilling her needs to her liking?

“… his car and it’ll probably break down and explode at some point later that week?”

he frowns, realizing jeonghan has been suggesting ridiculous things they can do to mina and your boyfriend the entire time he was contemplating his relationship. it’s his first time getting cheated on, but he isn’t surprised at his best friend’s reaction to it. he’s more surprised when silence blankets over them for several long seconds before jeonghan asks:

“are you okay?” he sighs. “i know that’s a dumb question to ask. you’re obviously not going to be okay after finding out your girlfriend cheated on you.”

his frown deepens at that. it’s a fair statement. he always imagined this kind of thing would throw him into some kind of jealous rage—emotions he’s not really familiar with. rage like yours.

he wonders if he had been the one to find out about this, would he have had a meltdown the way you did? make a burner account and find you to tell you the way you did? try to find someone to commiserate with—even if it’s a stranger—the way you did?

no, probably not. he was telling the truth when he told you that all he would do is break up with mina.

and he’s incredibly confused to find that, contrary to what jeonghan is saying, he feels very okay with that. he can’t really imagine caring enough to do anything more, and he doesn’t know why. shouldn’t he care more?

if you and jeonghan were wrong about him loving mina the way he was so convinced you were, why didn’t he care more?

“joshua,” jeonghan reaches over and pokes his shoulder. “speak. you’re scaring me.”

he snorts. “i’m fine.”

“okay…” he responds slowly. “so still in shock?”

“no, i really think i’m fine,” joshua says, shaking his head at the ceiling. “i feel… normal. i guess just confused about when and why she decided to cheat.”

“you did nothing wrong. she’s just a conniving, slutty ingrate who doesn’t know that she’s throwing away the most decent man in the universe,” he assures him. “which brings me back to my initial question. what should we do now to punish said conniving, slutty ingrate?”

joshua sighs. “we’re not doing anything. i am breaking up with her as soon as she gets off work.”

jeonghan perks up, rolling over onto his stomach and crawling to him until his head appears in his line of vision. his best friend has a shit-eating smile on his face that makes him instinctively roll his eyes.

“can i be there?”

he knows he should say no. it’s an absurd request and it shouldn’t even take joshua more than a second to answer. but as he thinks about it, jeonghan continuing to smile at him like a little devil on his shoulder, he thinks it might be nice to have him there and shame mina for cheating in a way he knows he doesn’t really care to do himself.

he shrugs. “sure, why not?”

jeonghan squeals with delight, scrambling to get up. “come on, we have to make sure you look smoking hot so it hurts her twice as bad. you can borrow my leather pants.”

“leather?!” joshua repeats. “it’s the middle of summer!”

joshua texted mina to let her know he wanted to talk to her after work and he would be dropping by. she told him several times that tonight wasn’t a great time and insisted they wait until tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about her convenience, so here he is, with jeonghan practically vibrating with excitement at his side, standing outside her apartment building.

“i still think you should’ve worn the leather pants,” his best friend says, “but you look killer. she’s gonna shit herself.”

joshua recoils at the idea but thanks him anyway.

“ready?”

he sighs. “yeah, i guess. ready as i’ll—oof!”

he stumbles a few steps and right into jeonghan as someone violently shoves him, continuing to push and slap at both him and his best friend until they’re several steps away from the entrance to mina’s apartment.

“what the—”

“and what the hell are you doing here?!” a female voice shrieks.

he wants to yell at this stranger for putting her hands on him. he wants to tell her to have some manners and to get away from him. at the very least, he wants to glare at her until she shrivels up in shame and scurries away. but all ideas of even attempting to do any of that die as soon as he lays eyes on the stranger.

your instagram photos don’t really do you justice (of course he looked. he really thought mingyu was pranking him and had even mentally applauded him for his effort to find a cute girl to post so consistently). your photos were well-taken and curated perfectly for your profile, but now that you were—for some weird reason—standing in front of joshua and jeonghan, he can confidently call your photos dirty liars. he can’t blame them, though. he has a feeling no camera in the world can capture how pretty you actually are in real life.

prettier than anyone i’ve ever dated, his intrusive thoughts remind him. prettier than mina.

“well?!” you screech when neither of them answer you, making them both flinch. you don’t notice your effect on them, though, because you’re busy frantically looking between them and the entrance of the building like you’re scared the three of you will be seen.

he knows jeonghan is thinking the same, exact thing he is because he is never rendered silent.

“i—uh,” joshua stammers for what he thinks might be the very first time in his life. “we…”

jeonghan glances at him, face twisted in amused confusion before he schools his expression and points his signature stunning smile at you. “you’re y/n! hi!”

“who the hell are you?” you turn back to them, cross your arms, and practically bark at him.

his best friend’s laugh is exaggerated and several decibels louder than it has any business being. it grates joshua’s nerves. he glares at him but jeonghan pays him no attention. “i like her,” he mutters to him before saying, “i’m jeonghan.”

“okay, jeonghan,” you spit his name like venom, obviously unimpressed, making him giggle.

joshua rolls his eyes at him and his increasing giddiness. his best friend doesn’t date often, but he shouldn’t be surprised that he enjoys this kind of vitriol. jeonghan is, at his core, attracted to the same chaos and mischief he himself is made of.

“what are you doing here?” you ask again, raising an eyebrow at joshua to make it clear you’re talking to him.

“i’m… here to break up,” he answers weakly. “with mina! i’m here to break up with… mina.”

he doesn’t know what’s come over him, but being confronted by you in person and unnervingly close in his vicinity has him forgetting how to properly communicate. the thought of blocking you was a lot easier when he had no idea if you were a real person. now, he feels like there’s no escaping you.

“what are you doing here?” jeonghan asks the question he forgets to return to you.

you ignore him, eyes staying trained on joshua as you speak, and something about you pretending like his best friend doesn’t exist forces him to fight down a smile.

“you’re not breaking up with her today,” you order him confidently, like you know saying it is enough for joshua to agree. if the way his palms start to sweat are a sign, you might be right. “she’s up there with siwoo.”

“who’s—”

“my boyfriend,” you answer before jeonghan can even finish his question. “i followed him here when he told me he was getting drinks with coworkers.”

joshua’s stomach flips. he’s not really sure how anyone can even think about another person in your presence, let alone cheat on you. maybe your intensity scares siwoo, though. it definitely kind of scares him.

“you mean… they’re up there right now… and they’re probably…” jeonghan’s sentence trails off, but you’re you and you don’t shy away from finishing it.

“fucking?” you ask with a biting and sarcastic enthusiasm. “yeah, jeonghan! probably!”

joshua winces. your rage was already palpable via DMs, but it’s near suffocating in person. it grabs him by the neck and shoves his face back into the dilemma he was quietly contemplating back at jeonghan’s apartment: why isn’t he sharing the same anger? why isn't he doubled over, throwing up at the idea of mina having sex with someone up in her apartment at this very moment?

“are you hungry?” you direct the question to him.

“what?” he asks dumbly.

“are. you. hungry?” you repeat, irritation laced in your voice.

“i am!” jeonghan announces.

you give him a blank stare before looking back at joshua. when he fails to say anything, you sigh, your temper appearing to deflate infinitesimally.

“they’re going to be a while,” you inform him like you’ve done this before. “there’s a fried chicken shop i like nearby.” okay, so you’ve definitely done this before. “we can eat and… talk, i guess.”

“we would love to talk. right, joshua?” jeonghan asks, pinching his side with more force than necessary. he fights to keep from jumping.

"sure," he finally agrees. "i could eat."

"thanks for ignoring me amidst my weekend-long menty b, by the way," you say sarcastically as you set down a pitcher of beer and three glasses next to the tray of friend chicken on the table.

"ment—?"

"mental breakdown," jeonghan whispers to him as he reaches to pluck a piece of fried chicken from the tray.

instead of depositing it on his own plate, he stretches across the table to put it on yours. joshua's eyes involuntarily narrow at the gesture. he doesn't realize he's glaring at his best friend until he speaks again.

"what?" he pouts at him but his eyes glint with mischief. "ladies first."

"thanks," you murmur, not-at-all sounding thankful. jeonghan snorts. "well? explain your rude behavior." he looks back over to you to find you sulking. you add more chicken to your plate even though you haven't touched the one jeonghan gave you.

"ah." joshua shakes his head. "i was just... not all the way convinced you weren't my friend trying to mess with me."

"mingyu," you say the name a lot like you said jeonghan's and for some reason, it makes him smile.

"yeah," he confirms, laughing a little. "mingyu. he's been known to play a prank or two on me."

"our joshua is just very gullible," jeonghan supplies as he serves joshua chicken now. the statement feels like a crack to the ribs. it's what mina called him when she was messaging siwoo. gullible. "so he's slow to trust."

joshua doesn't have a chance to argue that because you're, once again, ignoring jeonghan to ask him another question. "and now?"

"now what?"

"i take it you're all the way convinced?" you clarify as you tear into your first piece of chicken like you haven't eaten in years. with a full mouth, you add: "i mean, i assume you are if you're here to break up with your girlfriend."

"uh... yeah..." he nods slowly, distracted.

joshua is often described by his friends as a gentleman—elegant even. with the exception of jeonghan and mingyu—the two people who know him best—he is always polite and accommodating. he's careful that his clothes are always pressed and lint-free. he always has good posture, and he does his best to remember his table etiquette, especially in the presence of elders. he tries to be buttoned up and put-together almost all of the time, sometimes even to his own detriment.

so staring at you, wiping soy garlic sauce off your mouth with the back of your hand and talking with your pieces of chewed up chicken tucked into one, puffy cheek, he should absolutely feel repulsed.

he frowns at you and knows it probably looks like he is repulsed by you. but really, he's just confused about why you look so endearing sitting there, eating like it pains you to while taking turns glaring at your drumstick and glaring at him and his best friend.

"hello?" you wave your saucy fingers in front of joshua's face. "is he always this... spacey?" you ask jeonghan without taking your eyes off him.

"i'm glad you asked! no," the man next to him answers—also through cheeks full of chicken. "i've actually never seen him this nerv—"

"sorry, what were you saying?" joshua interjects before everyone at this table, including him, has to face the fact that yes, he is very much nervous and he's unsure why.

you sigh as you wipe your fingers on a napkin. "what is it about me that men's eyes just begin to glaze over as soon as my mouth opens?" you complain, the signature rage joshua has come to expect from you in the one hour he's known you bubbling back to the surface.

his eyes widen in horror at the thought of you mistaking his fascination with disinterest. "oh! i didn't—no, i'm not—i—"

"what joshua is trying and failing miserably to say," jeonghan cuts in, sneaking him a look that screams get it together, "is that no one here is ignoring you. he's just... trying to process all of this. after all, you had all weekend to think about this, and he just realized you were telling the truth, what? two hours ago?"

you stare at jeonghan with the same unimpressed expression you’ve been forcing on him since you met him. after a moment, your gaze travels to joshua, and he gives you a meek smile. you finally hum in understanding.

“sorry, i know i’m projecting. i’m just all…” you wave your hand wildly near your temple to mimic a muddled brain. “siwoo has done a number on me.”

joshua finally gains enough composure to string a sentence together. “i’m sorry i ignored your messages… and blocked your burner account.” you cringe at that but nod an acceptance of his apology. “and i’m sorry i’m not fully present right now. jeonghan’s right.”

kind of. not really. he was processing your existence more than he was processing being cheated on, to be frank.

“i’m just… trying to understand what’s happening, i guess. for what it’s worth, i find it really unbelievable that anyone would ever cheat on you.”

he ignores the way jeonghan inhales deeply and slowly through his nose. only joshua would be able to tell it’s the equivalent of him scream-giggling and kicking his feet when he’s trying to be discreet.

your eyebrows rise like you’re shocked joshua is capable of more than grunts and one-word replies.

“ditto,” you say plainly. joshua can’t help the immediate laugh that escapes his mouth at that, and he’s pleased when you smile for the first time since you met. “mina seems dumb. and not just because she and siwoo are ruining my life. you’re very handsome. and if you blocking me on instagram so fast is any indication, you seem very loyal too.”

you say it easily, as if giving out compliments like that is no big deal to you. maybe it isn’t, but even if that’s true, he’s going to appreciate it nonetheless.

unfortunately, that appreciation manifests in a fierce blush joshua feels spreading across his face like wildfire, much to his mortification. he doesn’t remember the last time he blushed like a pathetic schoolboy with a crush. it was probably when he was an actual pathetic schoolboy with a crush.

he clears his throat, choosing to ignore the compliment. “yeah, i guess we have the same, bad taste in dummies.”

you suddenly groan, throw your head back, and blink rapidly at the ceiling like you're trying your best not to cry. both men glance at each other and fidget awkwardly at the abrupt change of mood, neither of them being great at handling a crying woman. joshua has little to no experience with it and jeonghan tends to fall back on ill-timed jokes during times of distress.

"i followed him here months ago," you tell them unprompted. “i followed him here so many times because he was always so fucking sketchy. but his lie always involved ‘one of the guys,’ so i just thought his friend lived in that building.”

“and you found out this weekend…?” jeonghan asks carefully. joshua rubs the back of his neck nervously.

you nod, squeezing your eyes shut briefly before bringing your line of sight back to them. your eyes are glassy but your efforts to keep from crying were mostly successful.

“he lent me his laptop because mine stopped working,” you explain, rolling your eyes like having a broken laptop on top of all this is almost enough to send you over the edge. “his texts are connected on there too. i was at a cafe with a friend, and one of those verification texts came through. i ignored it but a few seconds later, it messaged again and i saw that he’d replied on his phone.”

“he told her it was safe to text,” joshua says, remembering the photos you sent.

“yeah…” you breathe, hugging yourself tightly and rubbing your arms as you try to self-soothe. “and i just sat there in front of my friends, watching him make plans with her in real time… brainstorm the lies they agreed to tell us… and i just had to pretend to be normal or else i would’ve burned that cafe to the ground.”

jeonghan coughs as he chokes on his chicken a little. joshua pats him on the back absentmindedly, eyes never leaving you, even as his best friend stretches across him, still coughing, to pour everyone a glass of beer. you sniffle as you accept your glass with a small nod, your body visibly relaxing as you take your first sip. he tries not to gawk when you down it all in one go.

joshua thinks this is probably what someone in love should look like when their heart has been broken: drunk and sad. now that the initial shock of seeing you in person has worn off, he can see how tired you really look. there are dark, bruising circles under your eyes, visible even under your makeup, and your hair looks like it was haphazardly put up into a ponytail to avoid having to wash or brush it. your eyes are tinged pink, a little swollen, and dull, like you’ve been crying all weekend. you have been crying all weekend.

and joshua? he’s asking himself why he hasn’t felt the urge to cry at all yet because right now, he could be the poster child for soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend who is going to be okay has been okay, is okay, and will always be okay. aside from his irritation with mina and her insane audacity, today is like any other day.

he’s never had his heart broken before this, but maybe it’s just different for guys. he read somewhere that men’s emotional intelligence develop a lot slower than women’s; maybe he just hasn’t reached a level of maturity you have.

“anyway,” you say as you stifle a tiny burp that makes jeonghan giggle for the nth time tonight, “i’m going to ruin his life.”

okay, so maybe maturity is the wrong word.

“wh…” joshua glances at jeonghan for confirmation he heard correctly.

his best friend’s eyes are lit up with excitement as he leans forward with impossibly even more interest in what the pretty lady across the table has to say. joshua would slap him if they were alone. what for, he doesn’t know, but he would.

“sorry, what was that?” he asks, trying not to sound judgmental at the risk of setting your anger off again.

“she’s going to ruin his life,” jeonghan answers for you giddily. “what are you going to do? i told joshua he should fill mina’s shampoo bottle with hair remover.”

that earns the two men another smile from you, but this time, joshua finds himself annoyed it was because of something jeonghan said.

“oh my god, that’s vile,” you say even though you’re grinning and obviously love the idea. “maybe i’ll add that as a little cherry on top for siwoo.”

“oh, he’ll be so ugly,” jeonghan claims like he’s already daydreaming about it.

“you don’t even know what he looks like,” joshua murmurs.

“i don’t need to,” he responds, smiling as he stares off into the distance. “a stupid motherfucker who can cheat on our lovely y/n, here, like that has to look like ass.”

you roll your eyes at the compliment but your cheeks turn a cute shade of pink anyway.

“well, making him bald will look like child’s play when i’m done with him,” you match jeonghan’s dreamy tone, and joshua feels a chill of fear from having the two of you at the same table crawl up his spine. why was he a magnet for agents of chaos?

“is that why you haven’t broken up?” he asks. “you’re scheming to ruin his life?”

you frown. “what makes you think we haven’t broken up?”

joshua shrugs. “maybe the fact that you followed him here and then shoved me and my best friend into next week to keep us from attracting any attention?”

jeonghan snickers and your cheeks turn a darker shade.

“ah, right.” you nod once. “sorry about that.” you don’t look sorry at all and joshua finds himself thinking it’s amusing. “i suppose that was a bit… rude.”

joshua hums like he’s contemplating your apology but he knows it’s clear he’s fighting a smile as he brings his beer to his lips.

you sigh. “anyway, yes. that’s why i’m still with him. he doesn’t even know i know. i’m trying to get my ducks in a row and figure out the most devastating way to leave him.”

jeonghan smirks. “my kind of girl.”

joshua’s foot finds his best friend’s and stomps on it as hard as he can without thinking twice about it. it almost shocks him—how much it felt like instinct—but after the day he’s had, he thinks he’s entitled to a bit of a tantrum. maybe this is how he is when his heart is broken. a little mean.

“ow, what the fu—”

“so what’s the plan?” joshua asks loudly when your eyes snap up to jeonghan mid-sip over the glass of your beer.

you lick your lips clean of foam before setting the glass down, and joshua forces himself to look away when he notices how plump and pink they are.

“well, to be honest… i haven’t been the smartest,” you admit, seeming timid for the first time since you barged into his DMs. it’s an odd look on you. “i—um. i kind of rely on him… financially.”

the explanation comes tumbling past your lips after that like you’re afraid the two of them are going to judge you if you allow even a second of silence to pass.

“i had a job! i had a great job! but siwoo’s a bit traditional, and he comes from a more conservative family that really buys into gender roles, and i mean, fuck that, right?”

you give them no chance to agree.

“i’m a feminist! i swear to god i’m a fucking feminist!” you’re practically shouting now and the two men are so stunned, they can’t bring themselves to notice or care that the other patrons of the restaurant are starting to look over. “but i was in love! and i thought i was going to marry this moron! so i convinced myself i wanted to stay home and i wanted to clean the house and take care of a man—”

you say the word with so much disgust, both joshua and jeonghan struggle to keep from laughing.

“—and he was so happy when i quit my job like he’s been asking me to, and i thought i was happy too, like, what woman doesn’t want to be taken care of by a rich man?!”

you pause to burp briefly but it still isn’t enough time for either of them to get a word in.

“though again, i was in love! i was looking at that shithead through rose-tinted glasses! he’s nothing but a spoiled mama’s boy with a rich family! that asshole doesn’t have to do anything for the wealth he has! so, like, really… what woman wants to be fake-taken-care-of by a 30-something-year-old mama’s boy?!”

the words come with even more disgust than “man.”

“and he had the nerve to act like he was better than me because i had to work for everything i had before him! like, dude. if your bank account is still connected to your fucking mom’s, lower your goddamn voice when speaking to me!”

his best friend’s mouth drops open in absolute joy-filled shock at your biting remark. he’s enjoying meeting someone as chaotic as he is too much.

“and what was it for?! empty promises that he would propose soon?! endless faked orgasms for a man who’s afraid to give a woman head?!”

jeonghan chokes again, this time on nothing. joshua has more decorum but he can’t help the way his face turns bright red.

“you’d swear i was harboring a monster down there the way he cringed at the mere mention of oral, like, what is he, 12?!”

joshua has to avert his eyes to the ceiling of the restaurant at the mention of your “monster,” and he can’t even get it together long enough to nudge jeonghan when he bursts into hysterical laughter. they might as well be nonexistent, though, because you keep barreling through your rant.

“i was on track to be a director before 30! i was a fucking star! and look what he made me!” you screech, words slurring.

it takes your slurred speech and yet another burp for joshua to realize with mild horror that the pitcher of beer is almost empty, and that he and jeonghan are still on their first glasses. he elbows his best friend, who’s still cackling, and motions at the pitcher. jeonghan sighs happily as the last of his laughter leaves him and mutters a quiet: holy shit, pretty aggretsuko can drink.

“he turned me into a housewife! and i remind you: I AM A FEMINIST!” you slam your palms against the table to each word to punctuate your point. joshua can see why you picked aggretsuko for your burner account. “i support a woman’s choice to be a housewife if that’s what she wants, but my dumb ass didn’t realize that this isn’t the life i wanted until this fucking weekend! god!” you groan miserably. “all of this heartache and for what?! he cheated on me and now i’m jobless and about to be homeless and completely broke, and i…”

you abruptly run out of steam, slumping in your seat and looking at your near-empty glass of beer pitifully. joshua has the urge to round the table and give you a hug, but he stays put, trying to process the whiplash of witnessing what he imagines is a mini “menty b.”

you take a few breaths before quietly saying, “i can’t believe this is what being in love got me.”

something violently lurches inside joshua’s chest when you say that.

“i can’t believe something that’s supposed to be as beautiful as love blinded me so badly.” your voice cracks. your eyes well with tears and this time, you make no move to stop them as they begin to streak your face. “how the hell can love hurt this much?”

joshua’s mouth falls open to say something—anything. any kind of comfort or kindness or advice. but no sound escapes his lips as he watches your heart break into tiny, little pieces in front of him.

he’ll look back at this moment and realize this was the first time his heart knew something before he, himself, did: what he had with mina wasn’t love—that he had actually never even been in love before. there’s no world where mina would ever have the kind of effect siwoo has on you on him, and there isn't anything mina can do that would make joshua scorn the concept of love because it's something he never even experienced with her in the first place.

but for now, all he can think is that, despite barely knowing you and despite being somewhat afraid of you, he has an insatiable want to fix this for you. he wants you to stop crying. he wants to see the rare smiles they were gifted tonight on your face once more. most of all, he wants to make the man who made you cry sorry for ever entering your life.

the words are out of his mouth before he can think twice about them.

“i’ll help you.” you immediately stop crying and look up at him with wide eyes. “i’ll help you ruin this idiot’s life. and when the two of us are through with him, i promise you he’ll be afraid to breathe within a 10-mile vicinity of you.”

joshua is surprised you haven’t already responded to tease him about his fickle typing bubbles because for the last ten minutes, he’s tried and stopped, tried and stopped (stopped, stopped, stopped) to find a response to your question that was not only honest with you, but with himself.

it’s not lost on him how unconcerned and unbothered he was with the repulsive and heinous death his relationship suffered last night. jeonghan made sure to point it out the entire way home, all while nearly choking him and stimming his socked, shoeless feet against his torso during his piggyback ride.

“so are we going to talk about the fact that you had zero reaction to mina having a guy up in her apartment?” jeonghan muttered not one minute after demanding joshua carry him home.

“we were in the presence of a stranger,” joshua grumbled, adjusting jeonghan higher on his back. “how should i have reacted?”

jeonghan hummed in thought. “i guess if it were me, i wouldn’t have really cared about strangers. i would’ve started with busting into her apartment and hoping you were present to keep me from committing second-degree murder. that’s a start, no?”

joshua sighed. “you’ve known me practically my entire life. i’ve never been like that.”

“i know.”

he said it in a resigned way, as if a visceral reaction was a healthy one and joshua was depriving himself. as if jeonghan wanted more for him—like he wanted him to cause a scene and make a fuss. the thought confused him but he stayed silent as his best friend continued.

“i kind of just… i don’t know, worry?” 

joshua smiled. he could practically hear the wince on jeonghan’s face from having to be serious as he spoke. 

“i lowkey expected a meltdown like y/n’s from you at my place. are you sure you’re okay? i feel like i’m waiting for the aftershock of an earthquake.”

“are you saying you think i’m emotionally repressed?” he asked, putting the pieces together and saying what jeonghan was dancing around.

“well, if you think that’s what i’m saying, who am i to argue with your interpretation of my words?” 

he snickered. “i literally cried when you told me about that deep-sea anglerfish that swam to the surface of the ocean to see the sun before it died. i wouldn’t call myself emotionally repressed.”

“okay, repressed isn’t the right word,” jeonghan conceded. “it’s just—ugh, hold on.”

he suddenly started wriggling in his hold, obviously asking to be let down without vocalizing it. joshua squatted down to let him off his back, and before he could straighten all the way up, jeonghan had him by the shoulders and was turning him around almost violently.

“ungh!” joshua grunted as he came face-to-face with him.

“listen,” he said, capturing joshua’s face between his hands, forcing his wide, surprised eyes to meet jeonghan’s. “i’m going to ask you something seriously, and i want you to answer just as seriously, okay?”

joshua frowned. “okay…”

jeonghan nodded curtly once before speaking. “your girlfriend of over a year is cheating on you.”

“dude. i kn—”

“uh-uh, i’m speaking,” he deadpanned, tapping a finger against joshua’s temple. 

he sighed. “okay, go on.”

“your girlfriend of over a year is cheating on you,” he repeated, this time slower and with more emphasis, as if it was something he was convinced joshua didn’t totally understand. “she went out of her way to sneak behind your back, and not only lie to—your—face!” he practically shouted. “but laugh about lying to your face with that scumbag asshole. and when you went over to break up with her, she was entertaining her side-piece in her apartment!”

joshua fidgeted under his hold. having it repeated like this did hurt him, and although he spent a lot of this time wondering why he wasn’t as affected as you were, he felt a little sad and lonely now, standing there being reminded that his relationship just imploded.

“in all of this,” jeonghan continued, “the most reaction i saw from you was some quiet cussing when we looked through y/n’s screenshots, and i know you’re capable of being upset.” he smirked. “anglerfish aside, i know that you can express emotion healthily. so…” he took a deep breath.

when he didn’t say anything for several seconds, obviously hesitating, joshua raised his eyebrows. “so…?” 

jeonghan’s gaze flicked down to him from where he had been frowning at nothing above his head.

“so…” he inhaled slowly. “do you think you really… truly loved mina?”

he hadn’t been able to answer a barefoot jeonghan last night, and even after tossing and turning for hours and thinking of nothing else this morning, joshua finds that he still doesn’t have an answer.

if he measured love by how heartbroken someone was after it ended, he’d say you were (are?) madly in love with siwoo and he’s basically been in a committed friendship with mina—apparently a shitty one at that. but is that even the proper way to measure love? did the way he cared for mina for the past year count for nothing? a tender, aching hurt bloomed in his chest when jeonghan stopped him and forced him to look at his love life closely, and it has just grown since then. he doesn’t know if it’s telling him that love is more than the way it ends or if it’s telling him he’s been living life without it.

the jarring sound of his phone ringing interrupts his introspection, and he’s startled to find your contact on the incoming call. he quietly gets up from his desk and vacates his cubicle, where he has been neglecting his work to figure out a way to respond to you. he slips into one of the office’s private phone rooms and answers.

“hello…?” he rolls his eyes at how confused his sounds. smooth.

“you’re taking ages to reply,” you inform him, forgoing a normal greeting. “thought i’d call and see what has you so committed to sending me nothing but typing bubbles.”

joshua sighs harder than he needs to, sinking into the seat in the booth. “do you have nothing better to do than stare at my messages and wait for a reply?”

“no,” you scoff. “should i remind you i’m a stay-at-home girlfriend?” you spit the words out like you’re ashamed of them. he knows that you are and winces, silently chiding himself for the poorly timed joke. “i’m not doing anything for that cheater and his apartment while i have to continue living in this hellhole.”

“fair,” joshua says quickly. “sorry. forgot for a second.”

you snort. “it’s fine. what are you thinking about?”

“um, i’m at work, so… work?”

“no, dude, in regard to my question,” you remind him, laughing. he squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to groan. he knows he’s not doing a good job of convincing you that you don’t make him nervous. “why are you overthinking your answer so hard?”

“i’m not overthinking,” he mutters petulantly. “i’m just…”

“thinking overly hard?”

he hates that he cracks a smile at that. “fine, i might be overthinking.”

“oh! well, welcome to my page. i’m glad we’re now on the same one.” he can’t help but grin even wider at your apparently never-ending well of sarcasm. “so what are we overthinking about?”

we. you just met last night—barely agreed to help each other last night—and already, there’s a we. and already, joshua feels comfortable with the notion of that.

he shrugs even though you can’t see him. he slides down until his neck meets the curve of his seat and he stares at the ceiling as he speaks. “i was there to break up with her last night.”

you hum. “i remember. and you still want to.”

it’s more an observation than a question.

“well, i guess that’s what i’m overthinking about.”

“bro, i get it,” you say, shuffling around in what he assumes is your bed. he narrows his eyes at the word bro. “staying with your awful partner and pretending like everything’s okay when all you want to do is strangle him is certainly not for the weak.”

“okay well, thankfully, i don’t want to strangle mina.”

you laugh again and he suddenly wishes he’d gotten to see and hear you do that in person last night. “so what do you want to do to mina?” you ask as the sounds of you moving around the apartment come through the phone. “please don’t say nothing. i already feel like a horrible enough person as it is.”

the statement derails joshua’s train of thought. “why do you feel like a horrible person?”

“probably because i’m committed to doing whatever it takes to burn siwoo’s life to the ground instead of just breaking up with him and moving on like a normal, well-adjusted adult, and if you say ‘nothing,’ it will just remind me moving on is exactly what i’m supposed to be doing. and i don’t want to do that! not without fucking some lives up first!” you end your ramble with a grunt of frustration.

“i don’t think that makes you horrible,” joshua counters. “i think that just makes you… human? i feel like the normal reaction is to want to hurt someone as badly as they hurt you, right?”

at least from how joshua sees it, he thinks that’s probably the normal reaction. if jeonghan’s pressing questions say anything, it’s that his lack of reaction isn’t normal.

the sounds in the background pause like you’ve stopped to think about what he said. after a few moments, your only response is: “thanks.”

“i’m just being honest.”

“i know. thanks for saying it anyway,” you sigh as you continue to do whatever you were doing. “well?”

“well, what?”

“you haven’t answered my question.” you repeat it for him. “what do you want to do about mina?”

he groans, letting his eyes fall shut. “i want to break up with her and forget she happened.”

“do all men move on that fast?” you ask, sounding genuinely curious. “like, do you all just decide you don’t love someone anymore and move on after, like, a week?”

“i’m not moving on fast,” he argues, opening his eyes once more and sitting up. “i just want to give myself a chance to move on at all.”

“so mature of you,” you comment. something tells him you don’t believe that, though, and you prove him right with your next sentence. “or you just don’t love mina as much as you think you do.”

“what is with you guys and insisting i didn’t love my long-term girlfriend?” he complains.

“who’s ‘you guys’?” you sound too excited to realize more than one person in his life has made this observation about his relationship.

“nobody,” he practically hisses, not wanting to give you and jeonghan something to bond over and tease him about. 

if he had his way, he’d probably make it so that you two never hung out again; your threatening energy as a duo honestly freaked him out a little and something about the way his best friend acted around you irritated him to no end. but he knows that helping you with siwoo will probably entail jeonghan butting in somewhere at some point.

“i loved mina, okay?” he insists, annoyed with the way he sounds like he’s trying to convince not only you but himself. “why do you even think otherwise?”

he doesn’t think he needs to point out that ultimately, you two don’t really know each other. you don’t have enough evidence to make such a massive assumption about him.

“i don’t know,” you mumble, “ugh.” he hears something clink against what sounds like porcelain. “i guess i’m having a hard time knowing that i’m devolving into this… child who’s having a world-war-sized tantrum, but someone who’s going through the same, exact thing i am is able to handle his emotions maturely... and gracefully… and just walk away. you’re so level-headed. meanwhile, i feel like my anger is consuming me.”

he rolls his lips over his teeth and bites, like that will help him from saying something too intimate to someone who’s still virtually a stranger. he suddenly feels sad for you again. it shoves away the newly formed pain in his chest that jeonghan forced there last night and burrows deep in his ribs the same way it did when he was watching you sob over fried chicken and beer.

“it’s kind of funny,” he starts, his voice soft and hesitant. “i thought something was wrong with me for not reacting the way you were.”

“nothing’s wrong with you,” you assure him. “sorry, i know me joking that you didn’t love mina probably makes you feel that way. i’m just trying to find an excuse for why you’re doing this so well and i’m… not. guess it’s easier to tell myself you’re moving on so fast because you didn’t love her in the first place.”

“you know,” joshua starts making his own observation as he thinks about the way you apologized for projecting your feelings about siwoo on him last night, “you’re super self-aware.”

“pfft, well as my therapist would point out, what good does that do if i’m aware i’m being self-destructive and i do it anyway?”

he smiles. “does that make me an accomplice to your self-destruction?”

“of course. you’re still willing to help with project destroy-siwoo-and-maybe-y/n-in-the-process, though, right?”

he grins wider. “of course,” he parrots before getting serious again. “but hey, i’m definitely not a good bar to set yourself against when it comes to break-ups. i’ve had too many to be someone you want to compare yourself to. you’re not not doing well.” he frowns at himself. super eloquent, joshua. “i think you’re handling this as best as you can. plus, i’m not going to pretend like siwoo doesn’t deserve everything that’s coming to him.”

you giggle like the thought of siwoo’s life crashing to the ground excites you. he knows it does. “okay, well if you’re committed to enabling me, i’m not going to make you stop.” joshua laughs loudly at that and you join in. “you have a nice laugh,” you tell him once you both stop.

“yah,” he whines. “are you always so bold?”

“didn’t we already establish that i am? what’s the big deal, anyway? i think we should all compliment each other more. it balances out my devotion to rage and revenge.”

he shakes his head, smiling once more. his cheeks are beginning to hurt. “fine. i’ll try to get used to it.”

“good!” you chirp as he hears more clinking in the background.

“what are you doing, by the way?”

“uh, i’ll tell you later,” you give him a non-answer before quickly directing his attention elsewhere. “so are we leaving mina out of this? should i just let you move on and grieve however emotionally healthy people grieve and tear up the mina section of my revenge plans?”

he snorts. “wow, okay, i need to stop letting your antics surprise me.”

“i agree. it’ll make this friendship easier for you.”

“i’ll bite. what’s in the mina section?”

“oh, nothing huge yet since i know nothing about her. i have jeonghan’s brilliant hair remover bit in there though.”

joshua glares at the wall across from him. he agrees that jeonghan is generally brilliant but he’s irked to hear you say it anyway. “right.”

“mhm,” you hum. 

“well,” joshua sighs, knowing that after several minutes on the phone with you, he has yet to give you an answer and he should really get back to work. “i guess that’s what makes the most sense for me. tearing up the mina section of the plan.”

honestly, nothing really sounds better to him than getting her out of his hair. 

“okay,” you agree quickly. “i can’t lie, i’m a bit disappointed because the scorned woman in me of course also wants to ruin mina’s life, but you’re the boss.”

he has no idea why he’s the boss when this is all your master plan, but he appreciates the grace you give him. he knows it’s probably not easy for you to redirect your disdain for mina and refrain from including her in your mission to ruin lives. well, life—one life: siwoo’s. 

“at least i can keep my girl’s girl reputation in tact.” 

he smiles at your priorities: 1. ruin siwoo’s life 2. remain a girl’s girl.

“exacting revenge on mina would do nothing to your girl’s girl reputation,” he assures you. “she’s the one who isn’t being a girl’s girl. she’s the asshole here.”

“oooh,” you sing, very clearly delighted, “joshie’s getting mad!”

he’s glad you’re not here to see him blush for no reason. when he’s too flustered to respond, you chuckle.

“i guess we don’t really need to go after mina, anyway, huh? you’re probably just as angry at siwoo for stealing her away too,” she thinks aloud.

he stills. 

joshua is a little embarrassed to admit he didn’t even consider that. he’s typically a proud man—humble and grounded, but he takes pride in himself nonetheless. is it weird that he didn’t think twice about the fact that siwoo disrespected him and his relationship by pursuing mina? up until now, his anger was mostly feeding off of your sadness.

“joshua?” 

“uh, yeah,” he stammers. “yeah. siwoo’s enough.”

“figured. we’ll make him pay real good for the both of us then.”

joshua nervously squirms in his seat. “yup. well, i should get back to work,” he says awkwardly. if you notice, you don’t point it out for once. “let me know what we should do next whenever you’re ready.”

he can practically hear the smile in your voice. “okay, and you let me know how breaking up with mina goes.”

if he had his wits about him, he'd probably give you shit for sounding so happy about the looming end, but he doesn't. so all he does say is:

“bye, y/n.”

“later!”

just a few moments later, he’s back in his cubicle when another text from you comes in.

he wasn’t scared, just like he wasn’t annoyed that you ate like you were discovering food for the first time. the right word didn't come to him until he was almost done with the report he had been working on before you texted: he was charmed.

a/n: thanks for waiting! hope you liked it! as you can probably tell, this is already way longer than i planned on it being so i’m not entirely sure how many parts this will be, but it’s my priority fic rn so i’ll work hard on updates! for now, keep reading to see a teaser for the next part! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

if you’d like to be added to the tag list, comment here or send me an ask! if you requested to be on the list but weren’t tagged in this post or the reblog, it’s bc you don’t have an age indicator on your page. pls add that if you want to be tagged next time.

part two teaser

and when he felt a little better in his own skin and ready to put a “realer” version of himself out there, he met mina. mina, his longest relationship, and up until now, someone he was convinced was his first love. he said as much anyway. he was the first to tell her he loved her, he reminded her he did every day, and he thought they had a nice, long future ahead of them. what he pictured in that future exactly, he had no clue. but after an odd and somewhat unlucky streak in dating, he finally felt like mina was a nice and comfy place to land.

he’s never been more wrong about something in his entire life. 

and after the laughable amount of breakups he’s experienced, he’s also never been angrier after the end of a relationship in his entire life.

mina was proving to be a lot of firsts for him—first cheater, first master manipulator and liar, first person who’s ever made him wonder if he could possibly switch over to dating men instead… or simply stop dating at all! sure, he would die alone but he would die in peace. 

whatever the case, he's quickly approaching the conclusion that “first love” is not among those firsts, and it probably never was. no amount of teasing from you or jeonghan did it, but in less than a handful of minutes spent breaking up with mina, he is a million percent sure this was not someone he could have loved. or else what did that say about him and his taste?

sixteen minutes earlier

joshua arrives at mina’s apartment exactly two hours after work ends for her—5 p.m. every day because she always scheduled a pilates class at 5:30 p.m. thirty minutes for her to get to her class, one hour for her to finish it, 30 minutes for her to get home, zero minutes for her to get clean because he doesn’t care how presentable she is when he dumps her. 

plus, however long it takes joshua to end this.

he hadn’t bothered to tell her he was coming over; he didn’t think she really deserved that courtesy. he may be intent on a clean break, but he also wanted this to be as annoying for her as it has been for him.

so at a prompt 7 p.m., joshua finds himself casually leaning against the elevator’s railing, ascending the floors of mina’s apartment and feeling almost excited to be free of this experience. 

after he got off the phone with you, he decided he would bite the bullet when work was over. he spent the rest of his day absentmindedly finishing his reports, periodically stopping to scribble an idea for what he would say to his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.

he takes the folded piece of paper out of his pocket now and runs over his options again.

his levels of shame and self-pity were sky high when he first pulled out his notepad at the office to write his thoughts out, but after texting you and letting you know what he planned to do, you insisted on meeting at a cafe beforehand to brainstorm together while he waited for mina’s pilates class to end. and once you both workshopped the entire list, his embarrassment diminished almost completely.

it was clear you took this a lot more seriously than he did. he doesn't know what he expected; you probably have a manila folder stuffed full of notes for what you plan to do to siwoo.

as such, you were very helpful. sure, you were also really distracting, with your subtle, spiced perfume he recognized as lola james harper, and your daunting and unrelenting eye contact, and the way your eyes smiled all on their own when they weren’t busy crying over siwoo, and the fact that you graced him with your laugh in person for the first time (every bit as fun as he thought it would be), and everything else that came with just existing in your presence.

all of it was really distracting—almost to the point of it being entirely counterproductive for him. almost, if it weren’t for the fact that you were so determined on his behalf to make this the most unpleasant experience for mina. he was mostly pleased with where you two landed, and if anything, he at least had a better idea of what he wanted to say. he reads the completely ruined paper, a mess of his black ink and wrinkles where you kept trying to grab the paper out of his hands. it was already a vulnerable enough occasion talking about this with you; he did not need you seeing his notes on top of it.

TALKING POINTS FOR BREAKING UP WITH EVIL GF i know you’ve been cheating on me, and don’t try to deny it because someone sent me proof! — cannot say this without exposing that y/n knows about siwoo!!! i know you’ve been cheating on me, and don’t try to deny it because i went through your phone and saw your text messages! — better, but am i willing to look crazy just to cover for y/n? yes what am i saying NO this will do ✓ how could you do this to us, mina? i loved you! — seems disingenuous? note: yell at jeonghan and y/n for putting ideas in my head later! i literally gave you everything you could’ve wanted, and that still wasn’t enough? what does any other man have that i don’t? — ok met with y/n for feedback. she says this sounds pathetic and that i can't let her think this has affected me. but she cheated on me? this LITERALLY affects me. i will come back to this one ok y/n made a different, better point: i am perfect and i should not present myself as lacking. so true. she's very good at this! do you really think anyone with half a fucking brain cell who's willing to homewreck a relationship is really going to give enough of a fuck about you to be capable of putting up with your insufferable ass and treating you as well as i did? — y/n suggested this one. had to workshop bc she's alarmingly vulgar. plus, it sounds a little toxic to say i "put up" with mina ??? not sure do you even regret hurting me? — y/n says this is silly bc siwoo and mina obviously do not regret anything, but i told her i do want mina to feel guilty even if i'm not sure that i'm all that hurt. she now agrees and says i should add: "or are you just so heartless you don't care?" she said this more colorfully, but i will remain respectful why should i remain respectful? mina is literally the most disrespectful person i have ever met. i will say what y/n suggested: ↳ my bad, i forgot your commitment to being a heartless fucking asshole has you by your ugly ass neck and it's squeezing with both hands and i hope it kills you GET HELP! — more for catharsis. will not be yelling this at her you're going to regret this and if you think there's a world where i take you back when you do, you're mistaken — wow, no notes from y/n! must be very good. definitely say this one!! please never contact me again — note from y/n: "why are you being so goddamn polite? tell her to fuck off and if you ever see her number on your phone screen, you'll set up an appointment on her behalf to get a lobotomy." ????? note from ME: have a serious discussion with y/n at a later time about why i, a MAN, can't just talk to WOMEN like this!

tag list: @coupsma @tokitosun @nothingbutadeadesceane @ateez-atiny380 @minghaofied @reiofsuns2001 @turtash @https-seishu @gaslysainz @dawn-iscozy @mrsjohnnysuh @sunnysidesins @thepoopdokyeomtouched @faizaa09 @hearts4itoshi @iamdkayyyyy @randojeon @iwannakisspoutycheol @youre-on-your-ownkid @justanotherkpopstanlol @sanaxo-o @seokqt @bath1lda @ilouvwonwoo @littlemisshyperfixation @mxelatrix-x @papichulomacy @o-schist @sumzysworld @alyssa19123456

[fiamat12]

Re: Let's Get This Done... No, I mean REALLY!

The "kissing" pics

It's obvious to us that this entire weekend was FAKE and came out of nowhere after that Cyprus pic of L popped up and after signs of a Lukola soft launch. Coincidental? I say no...

So what is the extra push needed to get this DONE done? I know!!! Everything that fans clocked as L NOT exhibiting bf behavior. And why is this important? Imo, I believe part of her argument was that she was being bullied online. How do we remedy that? "Defend" her!

So here's a list of things she got in one weekend that she never got in at least a year & a half of being in L's sphere (maybe because she's not his gf, but I digress):

• A red carpet at a major event as L's gf

• Attendance at a major event as L's gf

• Couples photos inside the after party (she had only gotten one at the film Baftas)

• Photos w/ L actually looking happy/ like he likes her

• Professionally styled for an event

• Inclusion in a grid post

• A "launch" article as L's gf in the media

• And finally, the denouement, "candid" pics of them being affectionate w/ one another - in this case "kissing" since we said the last time we'd seen them kiss was NYE 2024...

They *almost* achieved it. L did his best duck lips and A tried to make hanging all over him look natural. Funny thing is he looks disassociated even from afar, and his body language still screams no. I've had a more affectionate kiss from my Uncle! (I kid you not, he's a mouth kisser when he greets the fam 🤷🏼‍♀️).

As Savage so, well, savagely puts it, "when you tell your cousin she can tag along to prom and she books a full glam team". Sorry A, he just can't pull off romantic w/ you. In fact, L has kissed several women in other projects but A still reads as lil sis or bratty cousin.

Anyway, here's the candid shots outside the ceremony w/ once again no one around.

Keep going... ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Side note: Fans didn't bully her. She trolled the fandom and did nothing to make herself likeable and then wonders why she got hate? GIRL

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Re Aly Tea 🤔🧐 (@savage_spittin_facts)

[oldermenfucker]

i saw your robby post. i dont have much ideas about an au or anything but i do have a smutty idea thats been eating away at me for so long and i havent had the time to write it out. so im gifting it to you (if you may be interested!)

HE PUTS HIS COCK IN BUT HE DOESNT MOVE AT ALL (even if youre begging) AND WANTS TO GET YOU OFF ON HIS COCK BEFORE HE FUCKS YOU???? you also get so overwhelmed by the way hes stretching you out that you cant control your eyes going cloudy and some salty tears falling down your flush face. but his hands are soothing and cooing at you and just like major praise kink yk? anyways yeah okay love you byyeee (gets shy now) whejsjke xoxo

His Good Girl | M. Robby

summary: the request on the top🤭

warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, cockwarming, Robby has a fat cock it’s canon, praise kink HEAVY HEAVY PRAISE KINK!!, lots of cooing, reader calls him sir & doctor a few times, THE GLASSES STAY ON, heavy breeding, just Robby using that filthy mouth teheee

word count: 2.4k+

an: We shall have a spring wedding my love YOU GENIUS YOU ABSOLUTE GOD PLEASE OMG THIS IS SO FUCKING DELICIOUSSSSSSS!!!!! please don’t get shy I love this thank you THANK YOU I LOBE YOU TOO BABE!!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaa please send more thots and ideas I’m always BEGGING to brain storm with others about this delicious man😩

When you arrive home from work, you are exhausted. It’s near nine p.m., your feet ache, you are hungry, and you want nothing more than to jump into your boyfriend’s arms without a care in the world.

  You fiddle with the keys in your hand, slowly opening the door in case Robby is sleeping, but when you hear the low sound of a song playing through the house, you relax and let the warmth welcome you.

  “Hi,” you announce your arrival, dropping the keys on the shelf on top of his wallet, kicking off your shoes, and dropping your bag next to his backpack before you walk towards the kitchen.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he replies, watching as you grab a glass of water from the kitchen while he leans back on the couch with several documents on the coffee table in front of him. “How was your day?”

  You try to act nonchalant, you really do, but with the way his nose looks under those thick black reading glasses makes you swallow the drool that gathers in your mouth, you know you are anything but unbothered.

  He narrows his eyes at you, watching curiously as you purse your lips, running your tongue against your cheek while you stare at his face, and it finally dawns on him what got you in such a state.

  “Don’t tell me it’s the glasses again,” he pushes the matter, totally enjoying how you squeeze your thighs together when he raises his eyebrows at you. But it is the glasses, again. They are the bane of your existence, and you can’t go a day without thinking about them, replaying the memories you two have made with them on his face.

  He chuckles, his chest rumbling with both affection and desire, his bambi eyes darkening with each second that you look at him with your mouth agape, as if you are begging him to do something about it silently.

  “Come here,” he pats his lap, dropping the pen he was holding on the stock of papers as he repositions himself, spreading his long legs while he waits for you to come. His eyes drag over your body, watching you closely as he stretches, giving you a peek of his soft skin and that happy trail that leads to what you need the most.

  He throws his head back and laughs when he watches you bite your lip at the sight, making your way between his legs before he reaches out and grabs your hips, squeezing the flesh in his large palms.

  “One inch of skin is enough to make you wet, huh?” He asks, his voice teasing and cocky, because he knows what effect he has on you.

  “How do you know I’m wet already?” You tilt your head, trying and failing to mask that in fact you are dripping, “But no… your skin is enough to get me going, Doctor Robinavitch.”

  “You know exactly what to say, don’t you?” He grins again, pushing your pants down along with your panties, nodding at your shirt so you can strip yourself. Robby leans down, pressing open-mouth kisses along your stomach, nibbling on the skin as he helps you step out of your pants, “Come on, honey.”

  You pull the fabric of your shirt off, grinning at Robby, who makes a sound of ‘woohoo’ in a very hushed and raspy tone when his eyes fall on your covered breasts before you mount him and sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

  He rest his head on the back of the couch, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you closer, smashing his lips into yours. You moan into the kiss, the taste of his granola bar evident on his tongue as he pushes the muscle into your mouth, exploring you eagerly.

  You can feel his hard length against your thigh, and you can most certainly shape the outline of how huge he is even through his sweatpants. Rolling your hips down, you elicit a deep groan from him, breaking the kiss to pull on his sweatpants.

  “You can’t look this good and expect me not to pounce on you,” you whisper, lips hovering over his as he raises his hips enough to push the pants down, sighing in relief when the chill air of the room hits his heated cock.

  Your mouth waters at the sight of Robby’s thick member resting heavily against his thigh, already hard and ready to burst. You look back at him, finding him blushing and rubbing the back of his head as he smiles sheepishly at you.

  “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier—“ you gasp when his hands move to the globes of your ass, squeezing them in his tight grip.

  “Be a good girl and don’t keep me waiting,” he pecks your lips, holding you up when you reach between your bodies to grab him by the base, lining up the fat tip with your soaked entrance. “That’s it, baby. Look at me when you sit on it— there you go…”

  You bite your lip as you hold eye contact, lowering yourself on his thick cock gently, his fingers digging harsher into your asscheeks the more you take him in. 

  You really try to maintain eye contact, but the feeling of him splitting you open when you take him fully inside your cunt makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. He is nestled so deep inside your gummy walls that it makes your head spin, leaving you breathless and needy for more.

  You rest your hands on his shoulder, fixing your knees next to his thighs but with each little movement, his cock reaches deeper inside you, making your lips part in quiet gasps and whimpers.

  Robby stops you before you have the chance to move more. He grabs your hips, keeping you seated down on him. 

  “Not yet, baby,” he groans when you clench around him in his deep voice, one hand moving up and down your back while the other grabs your jaw to move your face towards him, looking up at your darkened eyes.

  “Why?” You breathe out, pouting slightly when he only smiles and presses your cheek together, pushing your lips out more, “Please, I wanna ride you–“

  “No, no, honey,” he tutts when you whine, grinding your hips down to feel him more, but his hands squeeze you hard enough to warn you, “You can’t do that now.”

  “But why?” You whine again, and he pulls you down on him, chest to chest with your belly rubbing against the soft podge of his stomach, “I thought about doing it all day, Robby…”

  “Very tempting, beautiful girl,” he threads his fingers through your hair, holding your face to the crook of his neck as he whispers in your ear, “But I wanna make you come on my cock before I fuck you.”

  You literally vibrate with excitement when he says it, knowing full well what an entertaining night you are going to have, but a bit of pushing never hurts you, right?

  “But I really wanna ride you, please—“

  “Ah uh,” he shakes his head, kissing your chin as his free hand begins to rub circles on your thigh, “Be a good girl for me, yeah? Keep me warm and wet, sweetheart. I had a long shift, I deserve a sweet treat, don’t I?”

  You nod helplessly, burying your face in his neck when he bends forward a little, somehow his cock managing to push even deeper inside you with such a slow movement.

  “So big,” you say dreamily, wrapping your arms around his head, nuzzling your face against his like a milk-drunk cat, “Feels so good, Michael.”

  “Yeah? Imagine how much better it would feel if you come like this,” he presses his cheek back into yours, enjoying your warmth as your walls quiver around his cock in delight, “Oh, sweetest girl,” he pulls your head back a little by his fingers in your hair so he can look at you, “You’re already on edge, I can feel you shaking.”

  You can’t utter a word; your brain is getting foggy with lust, senses overwhelmed with his scent, you can’t even think about anything but Michael and his deliciously big cock filling you up completely.

  “Look at you,” he coos, his glasses moving on the bridge of his nose as he looks where you are connected, his thumb rubbing mindless shapes on your navel as it travels down closer to where it needs more attention, “Taking me so good, honey. I wanna stay inside you forever.”

  Your walls spasm around his girth so beautifully that it draws a deep groan out of his chest, his fingers tightening on your body. He helps you straighten your back, his breathing now heavier as he takes in the state of your face; all flustered, pouty, and needy. You look fucked out already and he hasn’t even touched your cunt yet.

  “Aren’t you the prettiest girl in the world?” he groans as you shift to hold yourself up by your hands on his shoulders. He reaches behind you, unclasping your bra with ease before he pushes the straps down, leaning up to kiss the path they take to fall from your shoulders.

  It is torture, you are sure. Because with each subtle movement, a wave of pleasure shoots into your core, making it much harder for you to keep your composure and not push him against the couch and ride him till dawn.

  “You’re killing me, Michael—“ you gasp as he sucks a red mark on top of your breast, finally getting rid of your bra. He grins and keeps his mouth attached to your skin, gently biting the curve of your breast before he moves to your nipple, pulling it into his mouth as he starts swirling his tongue around the tightened bud.

  You throw your head back; the pleasure slowly builds inside you with his tongue lapping at your flesh and his throbbing cock inside your tight and very welcoming pussy.

  Moaning out his name, you feel his thumb finally making its way downward, rubbing just above your buzzing clit softly — he must be torturing you. There is no other explanation for how much he is taking his time exploring your body as if he hasn’t done it a million times before.

  “Best fucking pussy, baby,” he lets go of your nipple with a lewd sound of ‘pope’ before he rests his bearded chin on your chest, looking at you with a glint in his eyes that you can see the adoration in, “Keeping me all warm, you have to see yourself really. All stretched out and pretty for me.”

  “Please, sir—“

  “Oh, baby,” he leans back, keeping you straight with his hand playing with your nipple, gently tugging at it and watching you moan in delight, hips bucking to get some friction desperately but he stops you by his long fingers grabbing your hip, “Enjoy this, baby, then I’ll fuck you until I have to get ready for my next shift, yeah? A pretty girl like you deserves to be taken care of for hours, don’t you think?”

  You nod immediately, bringing his hand that is dangerously close to your clit up to your mouth, wrapping your lips around his thumb as you wet it for him, coating it in spit before you guide it back to where it was.

  “Good girl.”

  You smile shyly, looking at him from beneath your lashes. He looks so good with his glasses on, and you can see his eyes much better this way, those soppy brown orbs that are hooded with pleasure. His hair is messy, his beard even worse but this cozy look he has got is enough to make your pussy pulse in need.

  “Look at you, baby,” he coos again, pressing down on your clit with his thumb, rubbing fast circles just on the right place that makes your legs shake around his thighs, “You’re such a good girl for listening to me. Maybe I should tie you up one day and only speak dirty to you until you come? What do you say?”

  You can only nod, your mouth opening in a silent scream as the knot in your lower stomach tightens with each circle he draws over the bundle of nerves.

  Robby watches you closely as you fall over the edge of your peak; you barely hold yourself up by your hands on his belly, back arching as your cunt clenches around him, wetness dripping from where you are connected to each other.

  “Yes, yes,” he moans as well, and you feel his stomach tightening, “hmm, you gonna make me come too, baby. Fuck, you’re so beautiful—“

  He is cut off by you crashing your lips into his, salty tears dripping down your eyes as your orgasm drags out as he keeps his finger attached to your puffy clit, making sure you gush around him until there is nothing to give.

  You feel him twitching inside you, and in a second, you pull back to stare into his eyes through the glasses as the warmth of your cunt envelopes his senses completely.

  Robby comes with a groan, filling you up to the hilt with his seed, his hands flying to your waist to keep your pelvis pressed into his. He holds onto you tightly, throwing his head back as he pumps you full, and you take advantage of the sight of his Adam’s apple before you lean in and pull the skin of his throat into your mouth.

  “Jesus fucking christ,” he laughs breathlessly, pulling you up from his neck by a hand behind your head, looking at your tear-streaked face before he kisses down the dried path, “You did so good, honey.”

  “That was… something,” you drop down on top of him completely, letting him hold you close in his embrace, “Were you serious about it?”

  “About what? Fucking you till sunrise or tying you up?” He smirks, his eyes glimmering devilishly, his hands caressing your spine slowly.

  “Both,” you stroke his chest over his shirt, “Cause those were such huge goals for an old man like you.”

  “This old man made you come so hard you started crying,” he pinches your side, kissing your forehead, “Behave now, you were such a good girl just a second ago.”

  “I’m always a good girl,” your smirk matching his, “But you must keep the glasses on. Nonnegotiable.”

  “You got a deal.”

[kxsagi]

Hi! I am a HUGE fan of your Blue Lock works! You write these menaces so well! 😂

May I request one with whatever bllk guys you like where the reader is a baker & takes them to one of those adorable cake picnics that’s going around on tiktok? (I just really want to go one! They’re so cute!!! 🥰)

“𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐫𝐬. ‘𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬”

a/n: THANK YOUUU I LOVE THESE MENACES WITH A PASSION AND I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!!

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

isagi yoichi

this man is ecstatic when you tell him you’re planning a cake picnic. he doesn’t fully get the tik tok trend part, but if it involves you, cake, and a picnic blanket, he’s in. 

he insists on carrying everything. "i’m strong. i got this." (he forgets the forks 💀) 

you bake a round vanilla strawberry shortcake shaped like a soccer ball, and he legit gasps. “did you make this just for me?” he’s so soft. 

he tries to take a bite without waiting for you to take photos and you SWAT him with a napkin. “i-it looked so good i forgot!” 

he ends up with frosting on his cheek and gives you puppy eyes until you kiss it off. 

“we should do this after every game,” he says with a mouthful of cake, “win or lose.” 

spoiler: you start a post-match picnic tradition. 

itoshi rin

doesn’t say anything when you suggest the picnic. just blinks. “what is a cake picnic.” 

you explain it’s for fun and for ✨aesthetic ✨ and you’ll bake all his favorite things. that wins him over. 

acts like he doesn’t care, but shows up in the color-coordinated outfit you picked for him. 

“this blanket is too pink.” “shut up and sit.” “... fine.” 

you make a green tea roll cake shaped like a cat and rin stares at it in silence before quietly muttering, “cute.” 

you: “the cake?” 

rin, blushing: “... you.” 

lets you feed him a bite like you’re royalty, then pretends he doesn’t like the frosting on his nose. secretly loves it. 

stays longer than planned just to lay next to you in the sun. 

itoshi sae

he totally thinks it’s ridiculous at first. "so we sit on grass and eat cake shaped like frogs?" 

but when you say you're baking it all yourself, he gets serious. “i’ll be there.” 

he brings fancy sparkling juice to pair with your desserts like it’s a wine tasting. 

you made a little tiered picnic cake with pastel flowers and “you’re my favorite” written in icing. 

sae looks at it and just says: “i better be.” 

he gets weirdly competitive about feeding you cake and making sure he gives you the perfect bite. 

rests his head on your lap when you’re both full, pretending to nap while actually watching you take selfies. 

“you’re gonna post the one with me in it, right?” (he’s obsessed and refuses to admit it.) 

nagi seishiro

he groans when you wake him up with "we're going on a cake picnic!" 

but once he sees how cute you look carrying the cake box, he follows you like a sleepy puppy. 

you made a mochi matcha cake with white chocolate drizzle and little hearts. he literally says, “this looks like effort. you love me that much?” 

lays on the blanket and lets you feed him bites while he scrolls on tik tok, until he finds a video of a cake picnic and goes “wait. we’re trendy?” 

when you try to take pictures, he pulls you into his lap so he doesn’t have to sit up. 

“you taste better than the cake.” smooth and lazy. 

falls asleep mid-picnic with a piece of cake still in his hand. you cover him with your spare sweater and kiss his forehead. 

mikage reo

he’s the one who suggests it. he saw it on tik tok and immediately thought “oh this is couple content. but also a great date idea, of course.” 

literally buys you matching picnic outfits. 

offers to hire a professional photographer. you say no. he takes 300 pictures on his phone anyway. 

he brings a parasol, glass plates, fresh flowers, and a bluetooth speaker that plays jazz. he’s so extra and you love it. 

he nearly tears up when he sees the cake you made – pink velvet with raspberry cream and sugar pearls. “you baked this? for me??” 

his favorite part is when you smear a little frosting on his lips and kiss it off for a selfie. 

“best day ever. no notes. 10/10. we’re doing this weekly.” 

kaiser michael

“you’re taking me to a what?” 

still shows up with a single rose and says “for my chef queen.” 

you made a lemon cake in the shape of a crown with blue icing roses and he clutches his heart. “you do get me.” 

pretends to be unimpressed but takes SO many videos of you setting up the picnic. 

makes you sit on his lap the whole time. feeds you cake and licks the icing off your fingers just to fluster you. 

“say ahh, liebling.” he’s so smug about it. 

drops a cherry in your drink and says, “make a wish.” then winks like it’s a romcom. 

gets real pouty when you try to clean up. “what do you mean it’s over? we didn’t even kiss under the sun yet.” 

shidou ryusei

“you’re telling me there’s a trend where people go outside and just eat cake? why didn’t you ask me sooner?” 

he helps you carry things and drops the whipped cream. “oops. guess we’re gonna have to get messy.” 

you made a red velvet cake with little wings and devil horns for him and he thinks it’s the funniest, hottest thing ever. 

eats it with his hands. full goblin mode. you're like “there were forks.” he goes “but this is primal.” 

somehow ends up shirtless? like how did we get here. 

puts cake on your nose just to lean in and lick it off. “mmm. sweet.” 

makes it his goal to make you laugh so hard your stomach hurts. “best date ever, baby. 10/10. you’re mine forever now.” 

ness alexis

SO EXCITED but also extremely nervous because he wants to look perfect for the occasion. 

shows up dressed like a pinterest board and brings a delicate lace parasol “to protect our complexions.” 

your cake? a pastel pink angel-themed sponge with white chocolate wings. he gasps. 

“you really made this for me? you angel!” 

flusters himself so badly he has to sip juice and fan himself with a napkin. 

insists on cutting the cake evenly. spends 10 minutes trying to get the slices exactly symmetrical before you take the knife from him. 

takes 400 photos and chooses one to post with the caption: my heaven on earth 💙🪽

when a bee comes near, he throws himself in front of you like a bodyguard. 

“i’ll defend your baking with my life!!” 

bachira meguru

he insists on helping you set up – carries the blanket in his teeth like a golden retriever and sprints to find “the perfect spot” under a tree. 

your cake theme is “silly little monster.” it has tiny legs, jellybean eyes, and sour gummy arms and he’s like “LOOK, IT’S US.” 

lets the frosting get on his face on purpose. dead serious when he goes, “this is part of the experience. cake goes on you, not just in you.” 

brings bubbles, sparkly stickers, and googly eyes to decorate your forks. no you are not escaping the chaos. 

starts doing cartwheels halfway through because “cake gives me energy!!” 

ends the picnic by lying on your stomach and asking, “can we do this every week until we’re old and wrinkly?” 

the answer is yes. obviously yes. 

yukimiya kenyu

says yes instantly. “cake, sun, and you? sounds like a dream.” 

dresses immaculately. white linen shirt, ironed black pants, sunglasses he takes off dramatically every five minutes. 

shows up with a bouquet and lays the blanket out like he’s proposing. “only the best for my favorite patissière.” 

you made a black forest cake with gold leaf and edible glitter. he bites into it and goes, “darling, this is art.” 

definitely has a small mirror to check if he has crumbs on his face (he does. you wipe it off for him and he kisses your palm). 

pulls out a vintage film camera and takes dreamy pics of you surrounded by cakes and sunlight. 

“you make everything look like a magazine shoot.” 

when a leaf lands in your drink, he goes “ah. nature adds her blessing.” 

you end the picnic with a slow dance on the grass, soft music playing, the sun setting behind you. he twirls you once and murmurs, “you taste sweeter than any dessert.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[takimakiiiii]

chicken shop date pt.2 - LN4

synopsis: Lando's invited back to your dating show for a second date?!

wc: 2.4k (a little shorter than the first part!)

pairing!: lando norris x fem!reader

part 1 is here!

includes: fluff, hardcore flirting, no swearing (i think), playful banter, HEAVY 3rd person perspective use, adele jumpscare

a/n: WOW! I cannot believe how fast the first part blew up thank you so much! once again, this fictional fanfic is heavily inspired by amelia dimoldenberg's chicken shop date you can find on youtube! I also mention hot wings and stole the ice cream moment with bad bunny bc i thought that was super cute! anyways, pls enjoy and as always, reblogs and likes are super duper appreciated!

1 WEEK LATER . . .

Now Playing: LANDO NORRIS | CHICKEN SHOP DATE - THE SECOND DATE

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

The camera opens to a shot of outside the worn Chicken Shop, the location in neat text by the corner. There’s a soft DING of a bell ringing and the camera abruptly cuts, as if the camera itself is impatient and ready to begin the date. It slowly pans to Lando’s face who’s already got a wide grin on his lips. There’s a soft hum of the deep fryer’s in the background, the shop coldly lit by the overhead lamps. Yet, despite the chill of the shop, the atmosphere Lando and Y/N bring, lights the scene up with playful warmth. A small basket of chips sits between them but no one’s really paying attention to it. The shop is silent, the low buzzing of the AC in the background. There’s a gentle beat of silence, before Y/N speaks.

“So you’re back.” she says almost skeptically, as she adjusts herself in her seat, letting her eyes drift back to Lando. He nods curtly in reply, his curls bouncing softly. “Well, you invited me back, how could I refuse an offer like that?”

“Right, well it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was for the fans, obviously.” Y/N replies coolly, stealing a glance at the camera as if the audience themself is there watching eagerly in their seats. Lando lets a soft chuckle escape his lips, “Obviously,” he echoes, though the glint in his eyes seems to betray him as if he doesn’t seem to agree at all. 

“You know, people think we’re dating.” Y/N seems to blurt out but Lando knows each word is purely intentional. He feigns surprise, mouth hanging agape, “Really?” he says, almost sarcastically. Y/N tries her best to resist the pull of the grin he’s wearing, determined not to give in, she simply sighs dramatically. Her head tilts, nose scrunching slightly. “Yeah, I have no idea why, I’m like drastically out of your league.” she shrugs, her eyes locking back with Lando’s who looks like the words have gotten lost in his mouth. Y/N’s eyebrows raise questionably, teasing on the edge of her lips but he cuts in before she can push further. 

“I honestly think it’s the other way around, I’m really out of your league.” he insists. Neither of them acknowledges the soft pink flush blooming across his cheeks. If Y/N notices, she doesn’t mention it, saving the moment for post-camera teasing.

“How flattering,” Y/N muses, her words laced with sarcasm. “We all know that’s not true.” 

Lando lets a soft chuckle escape his lips, his face lighting up instantly by her witty comment. The energy between them is playful, full of tension they pretend not to notice. It’s just a fake date, right?

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Lando murmurs but just loudly enough that Y/N hears it, her eyes going wide every so slightly, the sudden sweet remark catching her off guard. Perhaps the microphone is doing her a favour by not showing how loud her heart is beating in her chest. To the audience it wouldn’t be anything more than harmless playful flirting, but perhaps it isn’t, not anymore at least. Well, who knows for sure? 

Y/N’s lips are slightly parted as if she wants to say more, the words hanging on the tip of her tongue. But the camera brazenly cuts before Y/N can speak, a moment left unfinished leaving the people wanting more, curse the damn cameraman. 

♡

“Let's talk red flags,” Y/N states, flexing her fingers before resting them on the table in front of her. Lando watches her carefully, far too used to her unpredictableness by now.

 “I’ll go first, once I got emotionally attached to a barista because he remembered my name.” Y/N sighs as if she’s reminiscing the moment thoughtfully. There’s a chuckle from the other side of the table, “Everyone knows your name, Y/N.” Lando grins to which for the first time in the video, Y/N smiles back lightheartedly - a real, unguarded smile.

There’s a beat of silence before she replies, “I see you’ve improved on your flattery skills since our last date.” she muses, rather impressed despite herself. She gives Lando an acknowledging nod, popping a hot chip in her mouth. The atmosphere on the brink of something playful yet experimental as if they’re not quite sure what it could lead to. But that’s just all part of the fun, isn’t it?

“Well, it’s a second date, right? I had to bring my best flirting skills.” he shrugs playfully with a gentle smirk pulling at his lips. Y/N raises her eyebrows, amused but reciprocating his playfulness.

“Of course, you wouldn't want me to walk away, would you?”

“We both know I’d run after you anyways,” he grins, rather proud of his reply. The line catches her off guard. She flushes, caught in his smoothness. For once, he’s the one doing the flirting, and she’s the one left flustered. She lifts her glass of water, takes a sip, and looks away in an attempt to regain her composure. Silence falls. But her facade cracks. She bursts into laughter, water spilling from her mouth. She wipes it with her sleeve, still shaking from the giggles, rolling in her seat.

Lando watches her, both stunned and amused. He glances behind the camera, as if asking the crew for backup, but they only shrug and grin.

Moments laters they’re both laughing together, their joy filling the small shop. 

“I don’t know why that was so funny,” Y/N admits, dabbing her eyes through soft laughter. Lando snorts, “Are you crying?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “One: you’re going to ruin my makeup. And two: you’re going to get me fired, so just answer the damn question.”

Lando can’t keep the lopsided grin off his face that only grows, giving in with little persuasion. His eyes flit over her as he thinks. “I still follow my ex’s dog on instagram.” he finally confesses. Y/N blinks before nodding as if the statment makes perfect sense - it doesn’t, but she plays along.

“That’s valid,” she agrees with a shrug, “The dog didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Exactly, Baxter didn’t do anything wrong.” Lando nods, a spark of agreement on his face.

“Justice for Baxter,” Y/N declares with mock solemnity, raising a fist in playful solidarity before throwing a quick glance at the camera. Her grin is infectious, wide and unfiltered.

Lando watches her from across the table, gaze softening into something unguarded. There’s an easy warmth in his eyes, a quiet admiration that doesn’t need words.The camera catches it just in time, lingering for a beat on the look he gives her. Then it cuts. And this time, the scene doesn’t feel abrupt. It feels right. Complete.

♡

“What’s the most romantic thing you’ve done?” Y/N asks, casually popping a chicken nugget in her mouth, eyes fixed on Lando with curious amusement. Lando pauses, chewing on the question, “I once wrote a love letter, real paper, ink and all.”

Y/N looks impressed but her words claim otherwise, “You know, for a rich guy I expected more.” She flashes a playful smile at him, her eyes lighting up, knowing he’ll rise to the bait.

“Like what?” Lando deflects defensively, eyebrows raised softly in amusement. Y/N shrugs nonchalantly (i cannot believe i just wrote that), her lips pursed as her face scrunches slightly. “I don’t know, like Taylor Swift playing at a birthday party or asking Jude Bellingham to sign a shirt as a gift.” Y/N suggests, unfazed by his defensiveness. Lando considers it for a moment, “That’s. . . creative.” he finally says.

“Thanks, I know.” Y/N agrees flatly, inspecting her nails. Lando chuckles softly and Y/N’s eyes flicker up to him, her mouth tugging to a grin. “Right, anyways, what about you?” Lando asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“I made a playlist for them but turns out they hated Adele.’” Y/N says, pulling a sour face, her bottom lip sticking out glumly. “Well, you really dodged a bullet there.” Lando assures her lightheartedly.

“Ooh, yeah, major red flag.” Y/N agrees with a grimace. “Are you friends with Adele?” she asks, her interest auddenly perked, excitement gleaming in her eyes. She leans forward in her chair eagerly. Lando purses his lips in thought, “I think I’ve met her, once.” he recalls slowly.

“Do you think she’d want to be my friend?” Y/N wiggles her eyebrows in hopeful exaggeration. Lando sends her a pointed look, somewhere between amused and confused. “Are you seriously asking me to ask Adele to go on a date with you?”

“She’s not a random person, she’s Adele!” Y/N protests through laughter. Lando rolls his eyes but he can’t resist the pull of her contagious smile. He can’t help it - her energy is magnetic. “Well, I could try but I don’t think you usually ask your date to set you up with someone else,” he says.

“It’s Adele, though.” she huffs with zero regrets as if the answer is self-explanatory. Lando nods, pretending to understand, though his expression shows otherwise as his eyebrows furrow together. Confused, but he’s got the spirit. The camera lingers for just a second more as their laughter blends together, easy and unforced. Then it cuts, leaving a trace of warmth and ridiculousness hanging in the air, the kind that feels just right for them.

♡

“Okay, serious question,” Y/N says, leaning forward. “BBQ or mayo?”

Lando pauses, debating both options carefully before deciding. “Garlic mayo. Fight me.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows, pretending to coonsider it a worthy option. There’s a long pause before she shrugs, unimpressed. “You kinda give off ‘says they like spice but cries at mild’ energy.” she comments instead. Lando blinks, caught off guard. “That’s kinda accurate, I won’t lie.” he admits without shame.

“I eat hot sauce to feel something.” Y/N replies solemnly.

Smash cut to both of them in front of a bottle of hot sauce, drenching their chicken in reckless abandon. Lando watches Y/N with growing alarm as she drowns her nugget in an obscene amount of hot sauce. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

Y/N, unbothered, picks up the fiery chicken with absolute confidence. “I’ve been invited back to Hot Ones, twice,” she says, deadpan. Lando stares in silent horror as she takes a massive bite like she’s proving a point. She chews, eyes already watering, and jabs a finger in his direction. “Your go,” she tries to say, though it comes out muffled and garbled, her mouth still full and on fire.

Still, Lando gets the message. Carefully, he picks up his drumstick and takes a bite, cautious and exact, as if precision will somehow spare him. Across the table, Y/N is now fanning her face dramatically with her hand, cheeks flushed, eyes glossy. She lets out a breathless laugh.

“Are you crying now?” she asks between coughs, clearly already losing it. The camera pans slowly to Lando. His face is bright red, eyes glistening with tears. Not from emotion, but from the inferno currently consuming his mouth. 

“I’m not crying, you’re crying,” he says in a raspy voice, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Y/N doubles over in her chair, laughing so hard she has to hide her face in her hands. Lando glares half-heartedly at her, then turns to the camera crew in desperation.

“Do you guys have milk?” he pleads.

The screen fades to black on his suffering, and her laughter.

♡

“Are you okay now?”

Y/N has finally pulled herself together after completely losing it minutes ago, though her cheeks are still flushed and there's a smear of hot sauce on her face that she hasn’t noticed. Across the table, Lando sits bundled up with a cup of chocolate ice cream, scowling at her. “No,” he sulks, drawing his knees up toward his chest in exaggerated misery.

Y/N rolls her eyes with a half-smile. “Anyways. Next question.” Lando groans dramatically, rolling his eyes to the ceiling before plunking the ice cream back on the table and straightening in his seat with a reluctant sigh.

“Okay, shoot,” he says with an exaggerated sigh.

“If you could time travel to any moment in your life, what would it be?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Year 9. To stop myself from getting that horrific haircut.” He shudders, as if the memory alone could still haunt him. Y/N snorts, already picturing something tragic. “You looked like a mushroom too?”

“Worse. A bowl.”

She winces in solidarity. “Ooh. Yeah, that’s rough.” She tries to imagine it but comes up short, her brain refusing to conjure an image that awful. “I had a fringe once, if that helps. It was... not okay.”

Lando laughs, a real one this time, lighting up in stark contrast to the ice cream-fueled sulkiness from earlier. “Photos or it didn’t happen,” he challenges.

Y/N immediately shakes her head, eyes wide. “They’ve all been deleted. For the safety of the public.” Lando grins, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the mental image. The camera cuts right there, on the edge of laughter, with the kind of unspoken rhythm between them that says: if the moment kept going, it might never end.

♡

“Rate the date out of 10,” Y/N says, balancing her own bowl of ice cream like it’s a trophy. “Just so you know, your rating will affect your screen time, so choose wisely.”

Lando thinks for a moment, as he always does. “Solid 9.3,” he decides at last. “The vibes are weird... but I like your company.”

Y/N nods, clearly satisfied with the result. “Thank you,” she says. “I think you’re weird too. You kinda give off ‘ghosts people and then texts them six months later like nothing happened’ energy.”

Lando lets out a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Only during Mercury retrograde,” he quips.

Y/N freezes for a second, genuinely impressed. “I respect the chaos,” she replies with a solemn nod, as if it’s a personal code of honor.

Lando grins, and without meaning to, Y/N mirrors it. The laughter softens into something quieter, something unspoken passing between them. There’s an odd ache to the moment, a shared sense that the end is creeping in. Neither of them can quite name it, but it’s there in the lingering eye contact, in the silence that doesn’t beg to be filled.

Y/N clears her throat, a little too abruptly, and claps her hands together to break the stillness. “And now, the final question,” she says dramatically, back in host mode. “Would you go on a third date?”

Lando barely misses a beat. “Only if there’s more chips... and no cameras.”

“I can organize that.”

He leans back, ice cream forgotten, smile soft. “Perfect.”

♡

a/n: THANK U SM FOR READING!!! I really hope u enjoyed, remember to stay safe and have a good day :)

taglisttime! (these accs will also be tagged in the other chicken shop fics for other drivers, please message me if you would like to removed/added!

@anamiad00msday @verogonewild @90smania @clarksgf @knivesdoingcartwheels @ezzi-ln4 @evie-119 @strawberry-rainclouds @fastcarsgonyoem @lina505 @guacala @linneaguriii @tamimemo @hydracassiopeiadarablack @willowpains @alireads27 @gigigreens @rifran @fairyjinn @stylesmoonlight12 @kikas-cafe @curlylando

(sorry if i accidentlly left you out or it didn't tag well!!)

[ziyechs]

joe'marr bengals reunion — a (somewhat) comprehensive timeline

1 — “have you spoken to the cincinnati bengals and what would it mean to reunite with joe burrow there?” — “i have talked to the bengals. i don’t know how many times i’ve talked to them though. but, me and joe, you know, i wouldn’t mind going back with joe. if we go back together we’re trying to do nothing but get back our chemistry and have some more fun.”

2 — “i'm really excited for this draft. i don't really know what's coming but, you know, if me and joe could get back to it... i’d love to have some fun with him again.”

3 — “i assume you'd be okay with a potential reunion in cincinnati if that were to happen?" — "yeah, i wouldn’t mind.”

4 — “me and joe talked about [a reunion] maybe like three, four times actually. we talked about it a good bit of times. he texted me this morning, just letting me know: ‘get your bags packed’, so i guess that meant that was gonna be the pick. i don’t know if that was a hint or what. so, he sent me that little text this morning, i was like ‘okay… i'm ready, bro’.”

5 — “what was your reaction like when he was lowkey recruiting you?” — “i actually was believing him sometimes, sometimes i was like ‘stop playing with me’ and sometimes i was just like ‘okay bro, i gotcha, i'm ready now’ so. i believed him this morning when he told me, you know, pack my bags. so that's when i finally was like: ‘yeah he might really be calling this’ so that's when i took his word.”

6 – “jimmy burrow, did joe tell you—he’s always been kind of coy about what he said to the bengals—did joe tell you that he wanted the bengals to select ja’marr?” — “yes, i think we figured that… and eventually… yes, he pretty much told us that he wanted ja’marr.”

7 — “it was like a week before the draft, ja'marr said: ‘dad, joe texted me.’ […] he didn't say what he said, you know. but he said: ‘joe just texted me’, [...] so he had talked to joe like... or texted with joe once or twice that week. and then he told me, he said: ‘dad, if i get with joe, we're gonna kill’ [...] so he was all excited about getting with joe.”

8 — “what was the first thing joe texted you when you got drafted by the bengals?” — “make sure your bag's packed and ready. yeah, that was what he told me.”

9 — “the cincinnati bengals are on the clock now. earlier that morning, i had got a text from joe. he said: hope your bags are packed. i know it's me, at the moment, that's what i'm saying to myself. i can't wait to be a part of it.”

10 — articles: 1, 2, 3, 4

[bambieyedoll]

⋆·˚ ༘ * PAUL LAHOTE HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 paul x sunshine!reader

paul imprinting on you is… chaos. beautiful, confusing chaos.

you’re warm sunshine bottled into a girl—always smiling, always finding a silver lining, humming while making breakfast, waving at strangers.

and paul is the storm. loud. angry. intense. the second his eyes meet yours, he knows he’s screwed.

at first, he tries to stay away. he thinks he’s going to break you. you’re too soft, too good, too sweet.

the imprint drags him toward you like gravity, but he fights it—snapping at sam, pacing through the woods, snarling at embry when he teases him about his “angel girl.”

you notice him watching you. always at a distance. always with that unreadable look in his eyes. but whenever you smile or wave, he turns away like it hurts.

you start bringing muffins to the beach just in case he shows up. you bring extras for the guys too, laughing as you hand them out, and paul hates that they get your attention. he doesn’t speak, but one day you offer him one anyway.

“you don’t have to eat it,” you say gently, holding it out like peace. “i just wanted to make you smile.”

and something shatters in him.

after that, paul caves. the imprint drags him in, and he lets it. but he’s awkward at first. doesn’t know what to do with someone like you.

you’re too kind, too patient, and he keeps waiting for you to realize he doesn’t deserve you.

one night you find him sitting alone on a log after patrol, shirt torn, hands bruised, shaking. he won’t look at you. says you should leave. but you don’t.

“even storms have soft centers,” you whisper, brushing his knuckles gently. “i’m not scared of yours.”

that’s when he really falls.

you’re the type to greet the world with a smile, even when it doesn’t deserve it. paul is the type to snarl at the world for not treating you right.

you’re soft and sparkly. he’s sharp edges and heat. and he’s never been more certain of anything than this: you are his to protect.

paul is ridiculously protective. the guys joke about it, but he will growl at anyone who makes you even slightly uncomfortable.

you once tripped over your own feet and he nearly phased because he thought someone pushed you.

you’re the only person who can calm him down when he’s spiraling. you sit in his lap and hum under your breath, hands in his hair, and he just melts.

you always smell like vanilla and lemon and something safe, and he leans into you like he’s trying to crawl inside your warmth.

you surprise him with tiny love notes. stuffed in his pockets, tucked into his gloves, scribbled on napkins. they say things like:

“hope your day is full of good things!” and “thank you for everything you do for me, mwah!”

he keeps every single one in a shoebox under his bed. if he’s having a rough shift or a post-phase migraine, he’ll pull one out and just hold it in his hand for a while. sometimes he reads them out loud to calm himself down.

paul absolutely melts when you call him pet names. he pretends he’s annoyed “babe? really?”, but the minute you call him “honey” in that soft voice, he’s a goner.

the pack is shocked when they hear paul laugh. like, really laugh. it’s when you run up behind him and tackle him into the sand, squealing with delight, and he grabs you and spins you around, laughing so loud it echoes.

you’re always trying to cheer everyone up, and paul watches you do it with this stunned softness, like he doesn’t understand how someone like you exists in a world like this.

he’ll mutter, “you’re too good for this place,” under his breath while tucking your hair behind your ear.

he never thought he’d have something like this. something warm. something gentle. you show him love doesn’t have to be earned through pain—it can just be.

“you’re not a monster, paul,” you tell him one night as he stares at the scars on his hands. “you’re the safest place i’ve ever known.”

he doesn’t say it often, but when he does, it breaks you a little every time:

“i don’t know what i did to deserve you, but i swear i’ll never let you go.”

paul has a sixth sense for your moods—if you’re even slightly off, he notices. he’ll wordlessly pull you into his lap, bury his face in your shoulder, and grumble, “what happened?” like he’s ready to fight the universe on your behalf.

you are the little spoon. always. no debate. paul wraps around you like a human furnace, arms locked tight, chest against your back, face in your neck. if anyone walks in on it, he growls until they leave.

when he’s on patrol, you wait up for him, no matter how late. you sit on the couch in one of his hoodies, drowsy-eyed and soft, holding a blanket for him. he acts annoyed every time:

“i told you to sleep, baby.”

“then stop being worth waiting for,” you whisper, and he just melts.

you decorate his room with little plants, fairy lights, and photos of the two of you. he pretends to grumble about it but secretly stares at the pictures when you’re not looking.

on bad days, you surprise him with his favorite snacks and pull him into a pillow fort you made in your room. you put on movies and crawl into his lap with that sunny grin. paul doesn’t even like most movies, but he’ll sit through five hours of them just to hold you.

you call him “my grump,” “wolf boy,” and “sunburn baby” when he scowls in the sun. he pretends he hates it. he doesn’t.

when you’re cold, he literally radiates heat, so you cling to him like a space heater. he’ll cock an eyebrow like “oh, now you want me?” but then tuck you under his arm with a satisfied smirk.

the pack always teases him about how soft he is around you. he threatens to rip their faces off, but when you giggle and say, “aww, paul, you’re my softie,” he shrugs and kisses your forehead like, “yeah, i am.”

you give him little doodles and crafts you make—like a friendship bracelet made of yarn and glitter. he wears it under his cuff and doesn’t take it off. ever.

paul grumbles every time you drag him to the farmers market or local craft fair, but he loves watching you light up over fresh honey, handmade earrings, or tiny potted succulents. he always ends up carrying the bags without complaint.

you sit on the kitchen counter while paul cooks shirtless because he runs hot and “it’s too damn warm in here”. you keep stealing pieces of food before they’re done, and paul keeps smacking your hand with the spatula—gently, of course.

you’re always slipping your cold hands under paul’s shirt, just to hear him yelp. he glares at you every time, but the glare never lasts. instead, he grabs your hands and warms them with his own, muttering, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

when you’re lying in bed together, wrapped up in each other, you trace the lines of his chest with your fingers and whisper things like:

“i hope you know how loved you are.”

and he swallows hard and says, “i know, baby. ‘cause you show me.”

he tells you he loves you in his own way—by cooking for you, fixing your car, rubbing your feet, making sure you lock your doors, and standing between you and any threat. but sometimes, when the world is still, and you’re curled into his chest, he says it out loud:

“i love you so much it’s stupid.”

he’s incredibly possessive—but in a quiet way. like resting his hand on the small of your back in public, pulling you into his side when someone stares too long, or throwing an arm over your lap when you sit with the pack.

you make him flower crowns once. jokingly. paul sits there, arms crossed, deadpan expression, wearing the damn daisy crown like a war medal. the pack never lets him live it down. he doesn’t care.

“she made it,” he says simply. “i’m wearing it.”

he loves when you play with his hair. you’ll sit behind him on the couch and run your fingers through it while he leans into your touch like a literal golden retriever with rage issues.

you randomly climb onto his lap while he’s watching tv or doing absolutely anything. he never complains—just opens his arms like “of course you belong here.”

you always doodle on his arm in pen—little suns, flowers, your initials—and he never washes them off until they fade. he even glances at them during patrol, tracing over the lines with a smile.

when you’re brushing your teeth, he always comes in behind you, wraps his arms around your waist, and rests his chin on your shoulder. you try to keep brushing, but he keeps kissing your neck until you’re squealing and spitting toothpaste everywhere.

you tried to teach paul how to bake once. it was an adorable disaster. the cookies were burnt, flour was everywhere, and paul insisted the baking soda was “a scam.” but he kissed you with a flour-smudged face and said:

“you’re the only sweet thing i need anyway.”

when you wear his oversized hoodie, paul physically malfunctions. he stares. you catch him doing it, and he just shrugs like:

“can’t blame me, baby. you look too damn good.”

paul has a very specific smirk reserved just for you—the kind that makes your stomach flip before he even opens his mouth. he’ll lean down next to your ear, voice low and husky, and say something like:

“you gonna keep looking at me like that, or are you gonna kiss me, sunshine?”

when you’re excited, you ramble and wave and talk with your whole face. paul watches you with this soft, dazed smile like he’s being baptized in sunlight. and the second you stop to ask, “am i annoying you?”—he genuinely looks offended.

“the only thing that’s annoying is that i can’t kiss you every time you start talking.”

when you tell him “i love you,” he looks at you like you’re the sun. like you just saved his life. and he doesn’t always say it back right away—sometimes he just kisses your forehead and breathes it in like a prayer.

he’s not good with words, but he’s terrifyingly good at loyalty. you’re crying once because someone you trusted let you down, and paul holds you with this quiet ferocity, arms locked around you, whispering:

“you don’t need anyone else, alright? you’ve got me. i’ll never let anything happen to you.”

you don’t even have to ask him to walk you to your car or stand between you and a crowd—he just does it. every time. like his body has been reprogrammed to shield you on instinct.

he always says “be careful” when you leave the house. always. even if you’re just going to the store. it’s always “text me when you get there” or “don’t talk to creeps.” it’s never controlling—it’s that raw, fierce love that says please come back to me safe.

you think paul’s the one protecting you—but what you don’t see is how much you protect him, too. from himself. from his anger. from the part of him that thought he didn’t deserve good things. you smile at him like he’s worthy of every ounce of love you give—and it undoes him.

[lanadelspray02]

HOLD ME ANYWAY: CHAPTER 13

paige x azzi

hey guys! enjoy. thank you to everyone showing so much love :) let me know what y'all think <3

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 8545

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

The locker room still buzzed faintly with morning energy—sneakers squeaking on tiles, laughter echoing off the cement walls, the low hum of pre-game chatter filling the space like static. Light streamed through the high windows in pale beams, catching on rising dust and the occasional glint of athletic tape or a metal water bottle. The air carried the usual smell of eucalyptus balm and detergent, mixed with something heavier—anticipation.

Paige stood by her locker, towel slung over one shoulder, hair half-wet and curling slightly at the edges. She moved slowly, methodically—like her body was going through the motions, but her mind was pacing somewhere else. The truth was, her stomach had been twisted in anxious knots all day. Game day was always a little electric, but this one carried extra voltage.

Because her mum was coming.

And not just her mum—but her half-siblings, Lauren and Ryan. She hadn’t seen them in months. And her mum? She hadn’t seen her at a game since high school. Paige knew exactly how it would go—tight smiles, measured critiques, maybe a hug that felt more like obligation than warmth. And still, part of her wanted to get it right. To show up. To impress. To prove... something.

And then there was this—Azzi. Them. The fact that they were finally something real now. Official. She hadn’t told the whole team yet. Only Nika and KK knew, and Paige was still figuring out how to hold something so new and good without letting the whole world pick it apart.

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

Azzi was finishing lacing her sneakers on the bench nearby, back slightly hunched, earbuds dangling from around her neck. Her hoodie sleeves were shoved to her elbows, curls pulled up into a messy bun. Paige watched her from the corner of her eye, a softness melting into her features that she didn’t even try to hide.

She waited until the room cleared out a bit more—Nika had wandered off in search of snacks, Caroline and Ines had gone to the training room, KK and Ice doing some random tik tok dance and the general chaos of post-practice had quieted to a low murmur. Then, moving with deliberate lightness, Paige crept up behind Azzi like a shadow slipping through light.

She let her hands slide slowly around Azzi’s waist, fingertips grazing the hem of her hoodie. “Hey.”

Azzi startled slightly but didn’t pull away. Her body relaxed almost instantly into the touch. “Paige,” she said, a smile forming without turning around. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

“I absolutely can,” Paige murmured, voice brushing just behind her ear. “Especially when you look this good after practice.”

Azzi huffed out a laugh. “Sweaty and sore is apparently your thing?”

“Only when it’s you.” Paige leaned in slightly, breath warm against Azzi’s neck. “What can I say? I have impeccable taste.”

Azzi turned her head just enough to meet Paige’s eyes. “You know we’re not exactly being subtle right now.”

Paige grinned. “You saying you want me to stop?”

Azzi shook her head slowly. “I’m saying you’re lucky most of the team isn’t in here right now.”

There was a pause. Not tense—just full.

Paige’s arms didn’t move. If anything, she held Azzi tighter, grounding herself in the quiet. “So... tonight.”

Azzi looked at her. “You nervous?”

“Terrified.”

Azzi softened. “Because of the game or because of who’s going to be in the stands?”

Paige shook her head once. “Because of who’s in the stands.”

Azzi’s gaze shifted, catching the shadow behind Paige’s words. “Your mum.”

“And Lauren and Ryan,” Paige added. “They’re excited. My mum... she’s complicated. She’s always made me feel like I had to earn her approval just to exist in her version of my life.”

Azzi turned fully in Paige’s arms now, reaching up to brush a damp piece of hair away from her forehead. “You don’t have to prove anything to her.”

“I know,” Paige said. “But it doesn’t stop me from trying.”

There was another pause, quieter this time. Paige drew in a slow breath, her fingers unconsciously brushing the back of Azzi’s hoodie.

“I was thinking,” she said, voice low. “If... if you wanted to, maybe you could meet them. After the game.”

Azzi blinked. “Are you sure?”

Paige nodded, eyes steady. “You let me into your world. I want to let you into mine. I don’t want you to ever think I’m hiding you.”

Azzi smiled faintly, but her heart flipped at the softness in Paige’s voice. “Okay,” she said. “Then I’ll be there. But only if you’re sure.”

“I am,” Paige said. “Even if it goes sideways. I want you there.”

Azzi reached up and tucked another piece of hair behind Paige’s ear. “You’re braver than you think, you know that?”

“I fake it well,” Paige murmured.

Azzi leaned in and kissed her—soft, brief, grounding. When she pulled back, her thumb traced a light line along Paige’s jaw.

“You’re not faking it with me.”

Paige’s lips curved. “Good. Because you’re the only one I’m trying to impress.”

They stood there like that for a beat longer—bodies pressed together, the rest of the locker room forgotten. Outside, voices started drifting back in. Practice stragglers returning. The noise of routine starting up again.

Azzi pulled back with a soft breath, adjusting her hoodie and slinging her gym bag over her shoulder. “Come on,” she said. “If we keep standing here, Nika’s gonna come back and announce to the whole team that we’re making out behind the lockers.”

Paige smirked. “Technically not making out. Yet.”

Azzi gave her a look. “Don’t start.”

“I never stop,” Paige teased, bumping her shoulder against Azzi’s as they walked out together.

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

The post-practice buzz still hung in the air, sneakers squeaking behind them as teammates trickled out of the locker room in small groups. Paige and Azzi had slipped away quietly, walking shoulder-to-shoulder down the long hallway toward the loading dock exit—away from the noise, away from the eyes.

Paige bumped her hand against Azzi’s once, a soft press of skin that said I’m here more than anything else. Azzi was still grinning—tired, a little flushed, but light in a way she hadn’t been all week.

But before they could make it to the door, two familiar voices rang out behind them.

“Well, well, well,” Caroline called, boots tapping quickly as she caught up. “Trying to sneak away like you don’t owe us details?”

Paige gave Azzi an amused look. “Should I be worried?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she was already smiling. “Apparently.”

“Don’t worry, Bueckers,” Ines added as she joined Caroline’s side. “We’ll return her in mostly one piece.”

Paige gave Azzi a mock salute. “Be strong,” she said dramatically before continuing down the hallway, hands in her hoodie pockets.

Azzi turned back to face her friends, knowing exactly what was coming.

“So,” Caroline said, folding her arms. “Is that post-practice glow or post-girlfriend glow?”

Azzi hesitated—just a beat—but the smile gave her away.

“She asked me last night,” she admitted softly. “It’s official.”

Caroline let out a tiny gasp. “Finally.”

Ines beamed. “I knew it. You’ve been moon-eyed for, like, well since you got here.”

“I know,” Azzi said, laughing quietly. “It’s kind of insane how fast everything’s shifted.”

“And yet,” Caroline said, stepping closer with a smile softening her voice, “you look... really happy.”

Azzi nodded, eyes warm. “I am. It’s still new, and we’re keeping it quiet for now—only KK and Nika know. So please…”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Ines said, hand to her chest. “Your secret’s safe. Until you decide otherwise.”

Caroline added, “But when you’re ready? We’re so ready to scream about it.”

Azzi laughed again, but her tone softened as she added, “You guys have really been there. With everything. I just—thank you.”

Ines reached out and squeezed her wrist gently. “You don’t have to thank us. You’ve been carrying so much alone for so long. You deserve this.”

Caroline nodded, then teased, “Also, now that it’s official, we’re demanding one cute couple photo per week.”

“No promises,” Azzi said with a smirk.

They stood there for a moment in the quiet of the hallway, just three girls with a shared history and now a secret more tender than anything they’d passed between them before.

“Alright,” Azzi finally said, glancing toward the exit. “I better catch up with her.”

Caroline gave a mock bow. “Go be gross and in love. But like... discreetly. For now. Even though you both are doing a terrible job at hiding it.”

Azzi grinned, jogging to catch up with Paige—her chest full in the best kind of way.

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

The court thundered above them.

Muffled cheers pulsed through the concrete as the crowd settled into their seats, the energy rising like a storm about to break. Inside the tunnel, the team huddled in a tight semicircle, jerseys sharp, nerves sharper. Warm-ups were done. Tip-off was minutes away.

Coach had just wrapped up the final speech—something about grit and tempo, about poise when it mattered. Paige barely heard it.

Her heart was doing that thing again. That fluttering, stuttering, too-loud beat that always came when something was about to go wrong. Or right. Or both.

She stood near the back, half-listening, her fingers tapping against her thigh. Sweat already collected along the edge of her sports bra, but she hadn’t moved in minutes.

Azzi was beside her. Not touching, not looking—but there. That presence that made it easier to breathe.

Paige risked a glance upward toward the arena’s sideline section. The lights made it hard to see faces clearly, but she knew the seats—row G, center aisle. The ones she’d sent the tickets to out of obligation more than hope.

They were there.

Her mum, in a fitted sweater, blonde hair clipped back as always. Posture straight. Expression unreadable.

Lauren and Ryan flanked her—half siblings, half strangers. Both teens now. Taller. Older than the last time Paige had really seen them outside of awkward video calls and even more awkward holidays.

She hadn’t expected to feel this... flipped. Her stomach twisted like someone had cinched it tight.

A shoulder bumped hers—deliberate, grounding. Azzi.

Paige looked at her, just for a second. Azzi didn’t say anything. Just gave her a soft, knowing nod.

I’m here.

That was all it took.

Paige let out a slow breath, her jaw unclenching. She didn’t smile. Not yet. But her shoulders dropped half an inch. Enough.

Coach clapped his hands. “Let’s go, Huskies.”

The tunnel opened, and the team moved forward in a wave of muscle memory and adrenaline. As they lined up to run out, Paige found herself next to Azzi. They didn’t look at each other. Didn’t speak.

But just before they stepped into the light, Paige let her pinky brush Azzi’s. A whisper of contact.

Azzi glanced sideways, her face neutral to everyone else—but her eyes burned soft.

They ran onto the court.

The crowd erupted.

And the game was about to begin.

The game tipped off and immediately spun sideways.

Paige missed her first shot.

Then her second.

By the end of the first quarter, she was 0-for-5, her stat line a mess of hesitation and forced plays. Nothing fell clean. Her timing was off, her footwork just half a beat late. And it wasn’t just physical—her brain kept drifting. Every time she glanced into the stands and caught the silhouette of her mother, stone-faced in row G, her hands would tense. Her vision would narrow. The crowd’s noise would turn muddy and sharp at the same time.

The second quarter wasn’t much better. She made one bad pass, then another. Turned the ball over on a drive she normally would’ve coasted through. A timeout came and went with Coach barking something about composure and flow, but the words skidded right off Paige’s armor.

Azzi, on the other hand, was locked in. Unbothered. Efficient.

By halftime, she’d sunk six threes and was the only thing keeping the team from bleeding out. Her defense was sharp, rotations tighter than they’d been all season. She wasn’t playing angry—she was playing focused. Like something inside her had sharpened to a single point.

Paige felt it from across the court. Saw Azzi’s shoulders rise and fall with steadiness after every play. Watched the way she reset her feet, called for the switch, stuck to her player like it was clockwork.

Meanwhile, Paige was unraveling by inches.

The scoreboard read 42–36.

UConn down by six.

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

Inside the locker room, the air was taut. Shoes squeaked on tiles. Ice bags slapped skin. Someone cursed under their breath.

Coach ran through adjustments like usual, but everyone knew where the real shift had to come from.

Paige sat on the bench, jersey clinging to her back, head in her hands. The door was still swinging from when Coach exited.

Azzi crossed the room without hesitation, grabbing Paige by the wrist. “Come with me.”

Paige blinked up, confused. “Wait—”

“Now.”

She pulled her into the hallway, then ducked them both into a side room—equipment storage, by the look of it. A rack of clean towels and a stack of unopened ball bags took up one wall.

The door to the equipment room clicked softly behind them.

For a second, all Paige could hear was the hum of the overhead light and the thrum of her own pulse. The space was cramped and dim—shelves lined with folded towels, stacked training gear, a mop bucket in the corner that hadn’t moved since October. But here, away from the locker room noise, away from Coach’s clipboard and the sound of shoes squeaking on tile, it felt like they could breathe.

Azzi didn’t say anything at first. She just looked at her.

Paige stood with her back against the shelving unit, arms crossed tight over her chest, jaw clenched like she was bracing for impact. Her ponytail was damp at the edges, cheeks flushed, her breath coming fast and shallow.

Azzi stepped closer. Quiet. Measured. “You okay?”

Paige let out a laugh that wasn’t a laugh. “Not really.”

Azzi didn’t flinch. “You look like you’re carrying a whole storm in your head.”

“I can’t stop thinking,” Paige admitted. “Every time I touch the ball, it’s like—she’s there. Watching. Judging.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Your mum.”

Paige’s arms tightened across her chest. “She has this way of making me feel like I’m never enough. Like everything I do still needs to be... more.”

She looked down, voice dropping. “I hate that I care.”

Azzi took another step. “You care because you’re human. Because you want it to matter.”

Paige didn’t respond, eyes still trained on the floor.

Azzi gently reached out, fingers brushing Paige’s forearm, then her wrist, until their hands were barely linked. “Can I say something?”

Paige nodded, a little hesitant.

“You’re enough,” Azzi said, slow and certain. “Right now. Missing shots. Losing confidence. All of it. You’re still you.”

She tilted her head, catching Paige’s eyes. “And I’ve never met anyone more capable of flipping a game on its head when it counts.”

Paige’s lip tugged upward. Barely.

“But what if I can’t get out of it?” she asked. “What if I’ve already blown it?”

Azzi smirked. “Then let’s try something different.”

She stepped fully into Paige’s space now, eyes bright but steady. “Don’t play for her. Or for Coach. Or for the Scouts.”

She leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“Play for you and if not for you, play for me.”

Paige blinked. “You?”

Azzi grinned. “Your girlfriend.”

The word landed like a spark.

Paige’s whole body seemed to react—posture loosening, face softening, heartbeat settling into a rhythm she hadn’t felt since warmups. “Say it again.”

Azzi slid her hands up Paige’s sides, settling just above her hips, fingers curling into the fabric of her jersey. “Girlfriend.”

Paige’s hands found Azzi’s waist in return, her thumbs slipping under the edge of her shirt, just enough to feel skin. “That still feels illegal to hear,” she whispered.

Azzi chuckled. “Then consider me a repeat offender.”

Paige grinned—crooked, hungry. “She sounds hot.”

“She’s incredibly hot,” Azzi deadpanned. “But she has high standards, so you might want to step it up.”

They stood there like that for a moment—close enough to share breath, close enough that Paige’s nose almost brushed Azzi’s cheek. The tension between them shifted—less panic now, more heat. Flirty. Dangerous.

“I need a good luck kiss,” Paige murmured, fingers tightening on Azzi’s waist.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, amused. “Is that your new pre-game ritual?”

“Only with you.”

With a soft sigh, Azzi leaned in and brushed her lips against Paige’s. It was a slow kiss—tender, but charged. Like everything unsaid between them was humming just under the surface.

But Paige wasn’t done.

She deepened it, mouth parting slightly, tugging Azzi closer with a low sound in the back of her throat. Her tongue just barely traced Azzi’s bottom lip before Azzi pulled back with a shaky laugh, both of them breathless now.

“You’re impossible,” Azzi said, eyes fluttering open. “This is not the time to seduce me.”

“You’re the one who called me your girlfriend in a storage closet,” Paige teased.

Azzi grinned, cheeks warm. “Win the game,” she said, smoothing Paige’s jersey. “And we’ll pick up where you left off.”

“That a promise?”

Azzi leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Paige’s ear. “Win. And find out.”

Paige groaned, tilting her head back like she was in pain. “You’re cruel.”

“And you’re gonna drop twenty in the second half, because you love showing off for me.”

Paige laughed—real this time. Her chest felt lighter, steadier.

“God, I want you,” she murmured.

Azzi kissed her one more time—quicker this time. Just enough to anchor her. “Then go show me.”

Paige pulled the door open, already recharged.

This time, when she walked back toward the team, she wasn’t running from the noise.

She was chasing the win.

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

The second half tipped off and Paige was a different person.

She ran the floor like a storm. Hit her first pull-up jumper, then a three. Her handles were tighter, her cuts sharper. She moved without second-guessing, fed Azzi clean assists, then called her own number again and again.

Azzi played like clockwork beside her—syncing in step, anchoring every play.

The scoreboard flipped.

Then stretched.

By the final buzzer, it wasn’t even close.

UConn 86 – Notre Dame 68.

Paige jogged off the court drenched in sweat, chest heaving, her body humming from the inside out.

She looked toward the crowd again—toward her mother, still seated, still unreadable.

But this time... she didn’t flinch.

Because just behind the bench, Azzi caught her gaze and winked.

And Paige smiled.

The hallway outside the locker room buzzed with post-game energy — players greeting families, coaches shaking hands, teammates trading sweaty towels for oversized hoodies and warmup gear. The scent of floor polish still clung faintly to the air, cut with the tang of popcorn and Gatorade.

Paige hovered just past the end of the tunnel, her jersey tucked under her warm-up hoodie, her curls still damp at the edges. Her body was loose from the win, adrenaline still humming through her blood. But her stomach twisted as she scanned the small clump of people waiting near the railing.

There they were.

Her mother stood at the edge, her posture straight, expression unreadable. Blonde hair tucked neatly behind her ears, designer bag perched on one arm like it might shield her from the chaos. Beside her stood Ryan and Lauren — both taller than Paige remembered, both in UConn gear that looked recently bought. Lauren gave a little wave when she saw her.

Paige made herself walk.

“Hi,” she said, voice soft as she approached.

Her mother stepped forward and gave her a quick hug. The kind of hug that was more of a pat. “Congrats,” she said. “Though the first half was rough.”

Paige’s shoulders twitched, just slightly. “Yeah.”

“You can’t afford halves like that, Paige,” her mum continued, eyes sharp now. “Not with WNBA scouts watching. It doesn’t matter how strong your finish is if they’ve already written you off.”

“Mum,” Ryan cut in, his voice a low warning.

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Seriously. She played amazing.”

“I’m just being honest,” her mother said coolly, like it was a service. “It’s not personal.”

But it was. It always was.

Paige swallowed the sting that crept up the back of her throat and smiled tightly at her siblings instead. “You guys made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Lauren said, pulling her into a proper hug.

Ryan followed, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “You totally cooked them in the second half.”

Paige finally exhaled, just a little. “Thanks.”

A few feet away, Azzi lingered near the wall. She hadn’t meant to listen. But the voices weren’t exactly hushed, and she’d caught enough — the tone, the bite. Her heart pinched. Paige didn’t deserve that, not now. Not ever.

When Paige’s eyes found hers, Azzi lifted her chin in silent question.

You want me to come over?

Paige gave the faintest nod.

She turned back to her family as Azzi approached, hand already sliding into Paige’s without hesitation.

Her mother’s eyes clocked the gesture immediately.

“Mum,” Paige said, voice more grounded now. “This is Azzi. My... girlfriend.”

There it was. Out in the open. No take-backs. Paige’s heart thudded once, loud and final.

Her mum’s mouth pressed into a neutral line. “Nice to meet you.”

Azzi extended her hand politely, composed but cautious. “You too. Paige played incredibly.”

There was a small pause, and Paige could feel her mother weighing every syllable. But she said nothing more.

Ryan, thankfully, broke the tension. “Girlfriend, huh?”

Lauren elbowed him. “Damn, Paige. You pulled Azzi Fudd? No way.”

Azzi laughed, genuinely this time. “We’re a package deal now, apparently.”

“Well, I approve,” Lauren said easily, grinning as she stepped forward to give Azzi a quick hug. “You’re way cooler than her.”

Ryan offered his fist. “Respect.”

Azzi bumped it, then glanced sideways as Paige visibly relaxed next to her.

“Thanks for coming,” Paige said, her voice now directed to all three of them — but clearly not her mother. “It meant a lot.”

Her mum gave a clipped nod. “We’ll let you get back to your team. Just… think about what I said, okay?”

Paige didn’t respond. Just turned back toward the tunnel, Azzi already moving in step beside her.

They walked in silence for a few beats, footsteps echoing on the concrete.

“You okay?” Azzi asked softly.

Paige shrugged. “I guess. It’s always like that.”

Azzi squeezed her hand, didn’t push.

As they slipped back into the warmth and noise of the locker room hallway, Paige tugged gently at Azzi’s wrist, stopping her just shy of the door.

“Thank you,” she said, voice thick with something heavier. “For being there.”

Azzi’s expression softened. “Always.”

They stood close for another breath, then stepped into the post-win chaos.

The game was over. But something bigger had just begun.

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

The locker room was still buzzing, a whirl of post-game adrenaline and victory noise that hadn’t fully settled into celebration yet. Shoes squeaked against the tile, someone’s speaker kept skipping between songs, and KK was already halfway into planning the night out at Ted’s.

“Ted’s, ten o’clock. Don’t ghost me this time!” she called over the ruckus, pointing at Aaliyah like it was a dare.

Azzi laughed lightly, pulling her hoodie over her head. She reached into her locker for her bag, slinging it over one shoulder just as Paige glanced over from the other side of the room, her smile soft but tired. There was something in her expression — a flicker of thought still clinging to her like static, even as the rest of the team rode the high.

She caught Azzi’s eye and tilted her head toward the hallway.

Azzi nodded.

They slipped out without needing to say anything, the door swinging shut behind them. The corridor was quieter, cooler — a reprieve from the sweaty rush of bodies and too-loud music. Paige’s sneakers scuffed against the floor as they walked in step toward the back exit, neither of them speaking yet, like the silence was still stretching itself out.

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

Outside, the air had the sharp edge of late evening, the sky already dark, the parking lot scattered with campus lights. Azzi’s car sat in its usual spot, and when they reached it, she opened the back door to toss in her bag. A crumpled drawing caught Paige’s eye — a sparkly unicorn with a purple mane and gold stars everywhere, half-folded in the cupholder.

Paige leaned in, brushing her fingers over the page with a small smile. “She really committed to the glitter, huh?”

Azzi laughed under her breath. “It’s been banned from three rooms in the house already.”

Paige carefully straightened the paper, tucking it a little neater into the holder before gently closing the door.

Azzi watched her, leaning casually against the car. “You’re kind of hot when you do that, you know.”

Paige turned, brow raised, amused. “What? Fix glitter bomb casualties?”

Azzi shrugged, arms crossed loosely. “Domestic Paige. Calm. Confident. Good with kids. Bit of a forearm flex. It’s working.”

Paige stood slowly, letting the door swing shut behind her. “So much for subtle.”

Azzi took a step closer, grinning now. “Please. You introduced me to your mum with a hand-hold and the words ‘my girlfriend.’ Pretty sure we skipped subtle.”

Paige groaned, pressing her hand to her face. “Don’t remind me.”

“No, I liked it,” Azzi said, her tone suddenly softer. “You didn’t hesitate.”

Paige dropped her hand and met her gaze. “You’ve let me into your world, Az. I didn’t want you thinking I’d hide you from mine.”

Azzi’s throat tightened, but she didn’t look away. “Even though… your mum…”

“Yeah,” Paige murmured. “Even though.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Paige leaned in just slightly, enough that her words dropped to a murmur between them.

“So. About halftime.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“You said if I won the game, we could finish what I started.”

Azzi smirked, biting her lip like she was trying not to smile. “I did say that.”

Paige stepped even closer, hands ghosting over Azzi’s waist like she was trying not to push her luck. “I’d argue I over-delivered. Pretty sure I didn’t miss a single shot that second half.”

“You were on fire,” Azzi said, letting her fingers trail up Paige’s arm, slow and light. “I might’ve gotten a little hot watching you.”

Paige’s grin turned devilish. “A little?”

Azzi leaned in until their noses brushed. “You were showing off.”

“I was motivated,” Paige whispered. “You kissed me. Told me I had to earn the rest.”

“I didn’t think you’d try to win the whole damn game.”

Paige let out a breath of a laugh. “Well... did it work?”

Azzi didn’t answer. She just kissed her — slow, deep, tasting of adrenaline and something sweeter beneath it. Her hands found Paige’s waist, pulling her in. Paige let her fingers tangle gently in Azzi’s hoodie, returning the kiss with just enough heat to make them both forget the parking lot for a second.

When they finally pulled back, their foreheads stayed pressed together.

Paige murmured, “Are you still calling for Ruby’s bedtime routine? I don’t wanna miss it.”

Azzi gave a breathless laugh. “You’re going out.”

“I can still talk to my favorite unicorn.”

“Sparklehorn’s flattered.”

“And her mum?”

Azzi tilted her head, eyes flickering with fondness. “Equally flattered.”

Paige brushed her nose along Azzi’s. “Good.”

Azzi kissed her cheek, then pulled away gently, already reaching for her keys. “Don’t get too drunk.”

“No promises,” Paige called as she stepped backward, her smile lazy and fond. “But if I do, you better answer my drunk FaceTime.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You planning something?”

“You’ll see.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, laughing. “Bye, baby.”

“Still not over how good that sounds.”

Paige turned, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair still damp, her whole body buzzing with the high of the game and the kiss and the girl she couldn’t stop wanting more of.

As she disappeared into the gym entrance, Azzi stood for a moment by her car, hand on the handle, grinning like she couldn’t help it.

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

The night was humid and heavy with the scent of beer, sweat, and cheap perfume. The inside of Ted’s throbbed like a living, breathing thing—basslines rolling through the floorboards, bodies packed shoulder-to-shoulder, the air hot and crackling with post-win chaos. Lights pulsed like a heartbeat above the crowd.

Paige stumbled a little as she edged out from the booth, mumbling something about “needing air” to Nika, who barely noticed over the sound of Aaliyah screeching at someone to take another shot.

Her oversized white tee clung slightly to the sweat along her spine. Black cargo pants slouched low on her hips, her silver cross swinging as she pushed her way past the bar crowd. A bead of condensation slipped from her half-drunk glass and rolled down her wrist. She didn’t finish it. Didn’t want to. Her mouth tasted too bitter, her head already foggy.

The alley behind Ted’s was blessedly quiet.

Paige shoved the door open with her shoulder, blinking into the low light as the music dimmed behind her like someone had turned down the world. The air outside was cool against her flushed skin. She leaned back against the wall, the bricks rough against her spine, exhaling slowly like she’d been holding her breath inside for hours.

Her phone buzzed in her hand before she could even check it.

Incoming FaceTime: Azzi 

Her thumb barely hesitated. She answered immediately, pressing the phone up, breath hitching just a little.

Azzi’s face filled the screen — soft-lit from Ruby’s bedroom, cheeks pink and eyes already a little sleepy. Her curls were pulled back into a loose bun, and the neckline of her worn UConn tee dipped low as she shifted into frame, propped up on one elbow.

“Hey Baby,” she said, voice honeyed and low. “You drunk?”

Paige grinned, too wide and too honest. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy, words just a little too slow. “Only enough to make you look even prettier than usual. That’s like… dangerous levels.”

Azzi laughed, biting her lip. “You look good too.”

Paige wobbled a bit on her feet, pressed her free hand to the wall to steady herself. “You should see me try to walk in a straight line. It’s art.”

Before Azzi could respond, a high-pitched squeal cut through the audio, and a tiny blur of motion barreled onto the screen.

“MAMA! I wanna say it!”

Azzi turned, already smiling. “Say hi, baby.”

And then Ruby was there — cheeks pink from sleep, curls wild around her face, holding Sparklehorn like a treasured relic. She squinted into the camera, face lighting up.

“PAIGEY!”

Paige’s grin softened instantly, heart lurching behind her ribs.

“Hi, Roo. Did Sparklehorn have a good day?”

Ruby nodded with intense seriousness, lifting the unicorn like a trophy. “Sparklehorn say hiiiii.”

“Hi, Sparklehorn,” Paige said, adjusting her grip on the phone. Her hand was a little shaky. “You were very brave today.”

“Okay Paigey, you say goodnight to Sparklehorn first,” Ruby instructed, face inches from the camera, eyes narrowed like this was the law.

Paige giggled — actually giggled — as she obeyed. “Goodnight, Sparklehorn. Sleep tight.”

Ruby looked satisfied. “Now me.”

“Goodnight, Roo,” Paige said, voice dipping gentle and warm, every drunken haze burned off for this one tiny moment. “Sweet dreams, baby girl.”

Ruby blinked. “I see you morrow?”

Paige’s throat caught. Just a little. She blinked quickly, like that would stop the warmth pooling behind her eyes. “I hope so.”

Azzi gave a knowing little smile, then shifted the phone to the bedside table and stood. Paige watched — phone now tilted at an angle — as Azzi bent over Ruby’s bed, tucking her in, brushing curls off her daughter’s forehead with a touch so tender it made Paige ache. Her chest clenched. Her eyes were way too wet for how drunk she was.

Azzi whispered something Paige couldn’t hear. Ruby clutched Sparklehorn closer. Then Azzi picked up the phone again and padded quietly into her room, shutting the door behind her.

She curled up in bed, blanket pulled to her chest, the light dim and soft behind her.

Still smiling, she asked, “Still there?”

Paige nodded, sliding down the brick wall until she was sitting on the concrete, knees drawn up, phone held tight in both hands. “Still here,” she murmured. Her voice had gone raspy.

They stared at each other through the screen.

“Baby I miss you,” Paige said suddenly. Raw. Blunt. True.

Azzi didn’t blink. “I miss you more.”

Paige's eyes flicked down, then back up. The alcohol made it impossible to pretend. “I wanna fall asleep next to you.”

Azzi blinked slowly. “Yeah?”

“I just…” Paige sighed, ran a hand through her hair and stared up at the starless sky. “Right now, the only thing I want is to touch you.”

There was a pause. Then a sly smile curled Azzi’s lips.

“Damn. Drunk makes you horny.”

Paige groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—well I did—but not in like a gross way.”

Azzi just laughed. Soft, real.

“I just miss being near you,” Paige admitted, looking up again. “The way you smell. The way you look at me like you actually see me.”

Azzi’s teasing faded at that.

“I know we should be taking it slow,” Paige went on, voice wobbling now, “and I want to — I want to get this right. But tonight… I don’t wanna be alone.”

And then she sniffed.

Once. Twice.

And tears spilled over before she could stop them.

“God, I’m such a fucking mess,” Paige mumbled, wiping her face, laughing wetly

Azzi stared through the screen, something shifting behind her eyes — that look Paige had started to recognise. Protective. Certain. Softened only by affection.

Then came the words: “Fuck it. Come stay with me tonight.”

Paige blinked, thrown for a second.

“You sure?” she asked, the words almost slurring, low and hopeful.

Azzi nodded once. “Yeah. I want you here.”

Something unraveled in Paige’s chest. She exhaled slowly, like she’d been waiting to be told she was wanted all night.

“I miss your face,” she said. “I miss your voice. I miss—” She caught herself. “Okay, I miss everything. Even the way you call me out for being dramatic.”

Azzi smirked. “You are dramatic.”

“And yet here you are,” Paige said, flashing a crooked smile, “inviting all this drama into your peaceful home.”

Azzi tilted her head on the pillow. “You’re worth the chaos.”

Paige just about melted. She leaned her head back against the brick wall, eyes fluttering closed. “You say things like that and then expect me to behave.”

Azzi’s laughter was low and fond. “You’ve never behaved a day in your life.”

Paige grinned. “True. But I’m on my best behavior around your kid. You should reward me.”

“Oh?” Azzi raised an eyebrow, playing along. “What kind of reward are we talking?”

Paige smirked. “Dunno. Maybe a kiss. Or three. Or a whole night tangled up in your sheets—”

Azzi cut her off with a laugh, flushing even as she tried to play it cool. “Babe.”

“What?” Paige blinked innocently. “I’m just brainstorming.”

“You’re horny brainstorming.”

“I prefer the term romantic visualising.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, cheeks pink. “You’re lucky I’m into you.”

“God,” Paige said, hand dragging through her hair again. “You have no idea how much I want to be there already.”

“Your Uber better not crash,” Azzi warned. “You’re not allowed to die before you cuddle me.”

“Cuddle,” Paige repeated. “Right. That’s what we’re calling it.”

Azzi laughed again. “You’re unbelievable.”

Paige let the words wash over her like sunlight. “You like me unbelievable.”

Azzi didn’t deny it. Her expression turned more serious—warm, not heavy. “You looked so sad earlier. I hated seeing that.”

Paige’s grin faltered, just for a second. “It’s just… sometimes I get too in my head. Especially around my mum. I get small.”

Azzi softened. “You never have to be small with me.”

Paige’s chest tightened again, not in the anxious way, but something steadier. Like safety, curling around her ribs.

“Az,” she murmured, voice going thick again. “You make me feel like I could be... more.”

Azzi smiled quietly. “That’s because you already are.”

There was a pause. A soft, breathless hush that neither of them felt the need to fill.

Then Paige looked back at her screen and grinned again, cheeky. “I’m bringing cookies.”

Azzi blinked. “For me or Ruby?”

“Technically Ruby. But I figured you’d steal at least one.”

Azzi smirked. “You know me well.”

“I’m getting there,” Paige said, and her voice went low again—almost reverent. “And I want to know everything.”

Azzi swallowed. “You will.”

They stayed like that for a few more seconds — just looking. Letting the moment stretch.

“I’m gonna hang up,” Paige whispered finally. “So I don’t ugly cry in front of you again.”

Azzi grinned. “Too late.”

“Shut up,” Paige said, smiling as she ended the call.

She stood still for a moment, phone against her chest, before stepping out into the street to meet her ride. And her girl

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

"Wait—stop here.”

The Uber driver barely glanced at Paige in the rearview mirror before slowing down in front of the 24-hour convenience store. Paige, already unbuckling her seatbelt with too much enthusiasm, leaned forward like the car was a rocket ship and she was the pilot.

“I gotta get cookies. And ice cream. And something pink.”

The driver blinked. “You’ve got three minutes.”

Paige held up two fingers with dramatic flair. “Deal.”

She half-jogged inside, tipsy steps slightly uneven, stumbling through the aisles with surprising focus. She grabbed a box of mini chocolate chip cookies, paused in front of the freezer to pick out a pint of chocolate fudge ice cream, then made a beeline for the sad little bouquet rack near the door.

“Too red,” she mumbled. “Too fake. Too yellow. Ew.”

Her hand hovered over a bundle of soft purple spray roses — pale, sweet, just a little messy.

“Perfect.”

She checked out in a blur of crinkled notes and thank-yous, then burst back into the car like she’d just finished a heist.

“Mission accomplished,” she grinned, breathless. “Ruby’s gonna love me.”

The driver just shook his head and pulled back onto the road.

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

By the time the car rolled up outside Azzi’s house, Paige’s buzz had shifted — softer now, threaded with nerves and the lingering ache of missing her. She stared up at the porch light for a second too long before pulling out her phone.

Paige: here

Paige: I come bearing snacks and flowers

Paige: don’t let me fall into your garden bush pls

The door creaked open within seconds.

Azzi stood there barefoot in grey sweatpants and a UConn hoodie, eyes sleepy but smile blooming the second she saw her. Her arms crossed under her chest, head tilted.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, voice low and fond.

Paige wobbled toward her, shoving the bouquet out first like an offering. “These are for you. Cookies for Roo. Ice cream is technically for both, but I feel like you’ll end up eating most of it.”

Azzi took the flowers with a soft grin, fingers brushing Paige’s. “Thanks, drunky.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Paige said, immediately tripping on the second step.

Azzi caught her by the elbow with a laugh. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

Once inside, Azzi quietly shut the door behind them. The house was dim, the only light coming from the kitchen nightlight down the hall. Paige slipped off her Jordans with a grunt, bending down and completely losing her balance in the process.

A loud thud echoed through the foyer.

“Shhhh—” Azzi hissed, reaching down to help her, but it was too late.

From down the hallway, a door creaked open. Footsteps padded across the wood floor.

Tim appeared first, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Katie followed right behind in a long robe and slippers, blinking at the scene in front of them: Paige, flushed and red-faced, one shoe off, cookie box in one hand, the other bracing herself against the wall like it might start spinning.

“Oh,” Paige said, straightening fast and standing like she’d just been caught by a teacher. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Katie’s eyes flicked from the flowers to the cookies to Azzi’s expression, then back to Paige. “Everything okay?”

Azzi nodded once, firm but kind. “She was upset. I told her to come.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “She seems... spirited.”

“She brought ice cream,” Azzi added dryly.

“Then she’s welcome,” Tim said, already turning back toward the hall. “Goodnight, girls.”

Katie lingered for a beat longer. “Get some water in her.”

“Yes, Mum,” Azzi muttered.

Paige gave them a little wave as they disappeared. “Sorry. Again. I promise I’m not normally like this.”

“You kinda are,” Azzi said, closing the front door and locking it. “Just with less alcohol.”

As soon as the hallway emptied, Paige perked back up.

“Okay,” she said, voice low and mischievous. “Now that the parentals are gone—”

She stepped forward and hooked her arms around Azzi’s waist, clearly intending to lift her.

“Nope,” Azzi said immediately, bracing herself. “Don’t you dare—”

“Come on,” Paige whined. “Let me carry you to bed like the strong, protective girlfriend I am.”

“You can barely stand.”

“Your lack of trust is honestly offensive.”

Azzi laughed and grabbed Paige’s hand instead. “Come on, drunky.”

They padded down the hall to Azzi’s room, quiet except for the creak of the floorboards and the occasional squeak of Paige’s socks on the hardwood. Azzi opened her door gently — Ruby’s unicorn night light still casting soft pink stars across the wall from her room next door.

Once inside, Paige didn’t waste time. She pulled Azzi in close the second the door clicked shut behind them, wrapping her arms around her from behind and pressing slow kisses along her neck, her jaw, her shoulder.

Azzi melted against her for a moment, hands resting over Paige’s, before gently pushing her back.

“Shhh,” she whispered. “You’re being loud.”

“I’m being loving.”

“You’re being handsy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Azzi turned around, one eyebrow raised. “You’re literally half falling over.”

“Then help me,” Paige said, all innocent eyes and terrible balance.

Azzi shook her head but couldn’t hide the smile. She crossed to her dresser, pulled out an oversized UConn shirt and a pair of soft sweatpants, and held them out. “Bathroom. Go change.”

Paige stared at the clothes, then at her. “I need help.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Paige.”

“I’m drunk. And also stupid. And I don’t know how to do pants.”

Azzi huffed but walked over anyway. “Fine.”

She helped Paige out of her shirt first, biting her lip when Paige deliberately stretched like she was on a magazine cover.

“Stop that,” Azzi muttered.

“Stop what?” Paige asked innocently. “Existing?”

“You’re the worst.”

Next came the pants — Azzi helping her step out while Paige absolutely did not help, choosing instead to run her hands up Azzi’s thighs in the process.

“Seriously,” Azzi said, cheeks pink. “Do you want me to dress you or make out with you?”

“Both.”

Azzi stood, shaking her head as she yanked the sweatpants up over Paige’s hips. “What happened to, ‘I didn’t mean—well I did—but not in like a gross way’?”

Paige grinned. “Okay... maybe I lied.”

Azzi tried not to laugh. Failed. “Come on, drunky.”

She grabbed Paige’s hand and pulled her toward the bed. Paige flopped onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh, and Azzi climbed in after her. The moment her head hit the pillow, Paige turned, sliding an arm around Azzi’s waist and burying her face in her neck.

Azzi smiled, already relaxing into the warmth of it.

“You smell like the bar,” she mumbled.

“You smell like heaven,” Paige replied.

Azzi chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Within seconds, Paige had melted into her, leg hooked over Azzi’s, breath slowing.

Azzi closed her eyes and nestled in closer.

This—this right here—was worth every step it took to get here.

Even the drunk ones.

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

The house was quiet in the way only 3 a.m. could offer — not silent, exactly, but still. The kind of stillness that pressed soft against the walls, stretched through doorways, curled into corners. A clock ticked faintly in the kitchen down the hall. The refrigerator hummed. Somewhere outside, a branch scraped lazily against the gutter.

Inside Azzi’s room, everything was warm.

The glow from the unicorn nightlight down the hall barely reached under the door, but it was enough to cast soft shadows along the edge of the bed. The covers had twisted slightly in sleep, kicked off Paige’s legs and pooled around their waists, tangled where their bodies had naturally folded toward each other.

Paige stirred first — not because she meant to, but because her body somehow always knew when it was near something it wanted to hold. Her lashes fluttered, breath slow, still thick with sleep. Her head was turned to the right, nose nearly brushing the pillow. Azzi was pressed in so close it took Paige a moment to realize where her arm ended and Azzi’s began.

Azzi had curled into her at some point, unconsciously or not — one leg thrown over Paige’s thigh, her hand balled under her own cheek, her mouth parted slightly in sleep. Her breath came in steady waves, chest rising and falling against Paige’s side. The hem of her hoodie had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of smooth skin at her waist. Paige could feel the warmth of her everywhere — tucked into the crook of her body like they’d been doing this for years.

Paige didn’t move.

Didn’t dare.

She just stared.

Her heart twisted, then swelled, a slow ache spreading through her ribs like warmth from a fire too close. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything like this — Azzi, utterly at peace, body soft and slack with sleep, face angled toward her like it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there.

She couldn’t help herself.

Gently, Paige reached up and brushed a loose curl from Azzi’s forehead, tucking it behind her ear with the softest touch. Her fingertips lingered there — just for a second — tracing the shell of Azzi’s ear, then moving back to brush a knuckle down her jaw.

Azzi stirred.

A small frown flickered across her brow before her eyes cracked open, slow and bleary. She blinked once, then again, pupils adjusting in the low light. Paige held her breath as Azzi focused in on her.

“Babe?” Azzi whispered, voice raspy with sleep, like it caught somewhere in her throat.

Paige smiled, barely more than a breath. “Hey.”

Azzi shifted, lifting her head slightly. Her hand slid across Paige’s stomach, fingertips brushing the soft cotton of the shirt she’d helped her into earlier. Her brows furrowed in that way they always did when she was waking — like she was trying to figure out what dream she’d just left behind.

Paige didn’t wait for her to fully wake. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured.

Azzi’s mouth parted like she wanted to respond, but Paige was already leaning in, brushing her lips over Azzi’s with a kiss that was gentle at first — feather-light, barely pressure. Azzi hummed softly, responding without words, and then shifted closer. The second kiss was slower, deeper. A little hungrier.

Paige’s hand found the back of Azzi’s neck, fingers threading into her curls. Azzi climbed up without thinking — her body moving instinctively, half-straddling Paige’s waist now, one knee pressed into the mattress beside her hip. Their mouths moved together like gravity was in charge, not thought. Azzi’s hoodie sleeves fell past her hands as she braced herself on either side of Paige’s shoulders, her breath now quicker, lips parted.

Paige groaned softly when Azzi rolled her hips just slightly, like testing a theory. Her hands slid down to Azzi’s waist, then lower, cupping the curve of her ass as she pulled her in tighter. Azzi gasped, fingers digging into the sheets beside Paige’s head.

“We really—” Azzi breathed between kisses, “—shouldn’t be doing this.”

Paige’s laugh was low and broken. “We really shouldn’t. Not with Ruby... and your parents... right there.”

But neither of them stopped.

Azzi kissed her again, more desperately this time, tongue sliding against hers with heat and need and something deeper Paige didn’t have a name for yet. Paige’s hand slid beneath the hem of Azzi’s hoodie, fingers skimming hot skin, gripping her tighter. Her other hand slid up Azzi’s back, under the fabric, and settled between her shoulder blades.

Azzi ground down slightly, her breath catching, her lips dragging down Paige’s neck now, open-mouthed and slow. Paige arched up into her, hands greedy now, mouth whispering something unintelligible against Azzi’s shoulder.

“I wanna see you,” Paige whispered, voice wrecked with want. She tugged at the edge of the hoodie, fingertips sliding beneath it to start lifting it.

But then—

Tap tap tap.

Tiny feet. Light. Familiar.

Azzi froze. Every muscle in her body locked into place.

Paige’s eyes widened as Azzi jerked upright and rolled off her like someone had hit pause on reality. Paige sat up halfway, breath still caught somewhere in her throat, eyes wide and hazy.

“What—?” she started, but Azzi held a finger to her lips.

They listened.

The soft patter again. Then the door creaked.

And there, standing in the soft spill of hallway light, was a tiny figure in purple pajamas, one arm dragging Sparklehorn behind her, hair mussed and face still puffy with sleep.

Ruby.

She rubbed her eyes with one hand, then blinked up at the bed. Her gaze landed on Paige — now clearly visible, sitting up, flushed and tousled, half-tucked beneath the covers. Her whole face lit up like a switch had been flipped.

But then it fell.

“You didn’t tell me ‘bout sleepover,” she mumbled, eyes going shiny, lip trembling just slightly. “I wanted come too…”

Azzi, still breathless, still pink, sat up and reached her arms out. “Baby, we didn’t mean to leave you out. Come here.”

Ruby stood still for another beat, clearly torn between feeling left out and the joy of seeing Paige.

Then, finally, she toddled forward and climbed up onto the bed without hesitation, wedging herself between them like she’d done it a hundred times.

Azzi shifted to make room, pulling the blanket up. Ruby curled against Paige instinctively, head on her chest, Sparklehorn tucked under one arm.

Paige swallowed thickly, heart still racing for reasons completely different now. She glanced over at Azzi, who met her gaze with a flush and a small, helpless smile.

Paige wrapped one arm around Ruby, letting the moment settle. Azzi leaned in close, brushing a hand over her daughter’s back.

And just like that — the heat from before faded into something else. Not lesser. Just... transformed.

Softer.

Wiser.

Real.

And Paige, still aching, still stunned, let herself breathe through it.

Because in the end, maybe this was the kind of intimacy that mattered more.

Maybe this was the kind of night she wanted to remember.

[thatonereallyconfusedbitch]

Usually not political on my blog, but I couldn’t just scroll past this.

In Germany, in the tenth grade you visit Berlin to see the affects of the Second World War and learn about the development and what happened to people (you already do this in school in more detail, but in Berlin you actually see it).

More importantly, in the ninth grade it’s part of the curriculum to visit a concentration camp. No specific one, usually whatever one is closest to the school. The one i visited is the one in Dachau (Munich). You can google it for more information, but it was the first concentration camp built in 1933. It was built a few weeks after H***er came into power as a kind of special prison (sound familiar yet?). It was called the Munich model, as a blueprint for many other concentration camps. In 1937 it was remodelled and expanded. In 1940 they built their own crematorium with one oven because they had too many bodies to bury or send to the crematorium of the church nearby (just think about that for a second). Once crematorium was not enough, since so many people were being killed, so in 1942 they built barrack X had from 1943 they used it. Barrack X had 4 ovens. 4. They could burn 4 bodies at once, and no one would be any wiser.

Anyway, my original point was a different one, this what the general layout of the land looked like:

I know it’s a little blurry, but the “KZ Dachau” is “concentration camp Dachau” (where they slept and eat) and “Crematoria” is “Crematorium”. Basically the houses they slept in were just rowed up. All together there were 34, 30 of which were “living barracks” and 4 “working barracks”. Each barracks had 4 like compartments, which each compartment having 2 rooms, a living room with table, chairs and a tiny locker, and a bedroom. The bedroom had triple bunk beds made out of wood, similar to the photo I reposted, except they made it even more inhumane and made it four bunks, as well as, from the looks of it, not even giving them and sheets.

The only difference at this stage is the material the bunks are made out of, and somehow wood seems more comfortable than metal.

Honestly, just looking at this, the na**s seemed more humane and compassionate than the American government. And that is not a sentence I ever thought would even exist, nor should it.

Each barrack was supposed to house 200 people. At the end of world war 2, it housed over 2000 people. Again, just take a step back and think about this for a moment. They built it so that everyone had their own bed. In the end, around 10 people would have had to share one bed. Obviously that didn’t happen and most people ended up just sleeping on the floor, or maybe even in the ceiling (see photo below)

Also, look at the photo I reposted, then look at the one below. Tell me you can see a difference and I will delete this post.

And before you comment anything stupid like “wElL THe uNIfoRmS aRE dIFfeReNT” You know exactly, that that is not what I am saying.

Also, to anyone saying that the concentration camps were built in Germany while this prison (and the many that are following, Trump has said he wants to build more. I don’t have the video right here, but it was when he was meeting the dictator of El Salvador that he kind of quietly said it) that is shown atop is in El Salvador. You are simply wrong. Yes, concentration camps did exist in Germany, but most of them were in Poland, Russia, etc., so NOT in Germany.

I could go on, but this post is already far too long and I’m tired. But there are so many more comparisons, and I will definitely add more, that sits honestly scary that it’s even gotten to this point. How. HOW? HOW CAN YOU LOOK AT HISTORY, AT HUNDREDS OF MILLION PEOPLE DYING, AND THINK, YES, LET US DO THAT AGAIN, BECAUSE I DON’T LIKE MEXICANS BECAUSE ONE ONCE STOLE MY BIKE.

The reason H***er and so got away with it, is because people had light prejudice against Jews (because of propaganda) and everyone had the it-doesn’t-affect-me-mentality.

When the Nazis came for the communists, I remained silent; I wasn't a communist.

When they came for the trade unionists, I remained silent; I wasn't a trade unionist.

When they came for the Jews, I remained silent; I wasn't a Jew.

When they came for me, there was no one left to protest.

— Martin Neumüller

This looks like a warehouse in which each person is a box on a shelf.

I don't care what these people did. No one deserves this. The only criminals are the people who put them here.

[yuikomorii]

AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 6

// This might be one of my favorite chapters I’ve written so far! I tried to blend some fun with a bit of seriousness, so I really hope you’ll enjoy it. It’s kinda SPICY at some point, hehehe. I know it takes me a while to post new chapters, but I promise I haven’t forgotten about this fanfic, sometimes I just don’t have enough time. T-T

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

— Ayato opens the door —

Ayato: Haa… What happened?

Chief: Come with me! It’s about Subaru-san!

Ayato: Subaru?

Yui: ( Eh? That’s Ayato-san’s co-worker, right? I hope it’s nothing bad…! )

Place: Reception

Manager: Unfortunately, the cooking contest, as well as the filming, will be stopped for today.

Subaru-san picked a dish to make with one of the girls here, but he didn’t know it had garlic in it. After tasting it, he started feeling sick—bad enough that he had to throw up.

Ayato: Damn it…

Yui: ( Come to think of it... he’s in a group with a vampire concept and he has garlic intolerance. I can’t help but find this a bit ironic. )

( Still, poor Subaru-san... get well soon. )

Ayato: I’m going to check——

Manager: Don’t. Subaru-san is most likely resting now. He needs sleep more than anything after what happened.

Ayato: Tch… fine. But let me know when he wakes up!

Manager: Once he wakes up, I'll ask him to contact you. In the meantime, since you two share a room, I’d appreciate it if Ayato-san could spend his time elsewhere in the hotel.

Ayato: ( Did I indirectly get kicked out—? )

Well, whatever. But where exactly am I supposed to go?

Chief: Actually, now that the contest's cancelled and the other team is not present anymore, the onsen is completely free for you!

Ayato: Heh, is that so?

Chief: Y-Yes, but... since you, mister, are a celebrity, I’ll need to look for a private key first.

Can’t have fans fainting in the hallway if they see you half-dressed, right?

Ayato: Pfft, true… wouldn’t want to cause a stampede in a towel. But hurry up then. The sooner I’m in the hot water, the better~!

— Chief nods and starts searching —

Yui: ( I feel like I’m just a third wheel at this point, so it might be better if I quietly leave too. )

( Besides, my job is supposed to be done for today… and Ayato-san probably wants some space anyway.)

Chief: Wait! I almost forgot about Komori-san!

Yui: Hm? What’s with me?

Chief: Since you were Ayato-san’s cooking partner, the original deal included you getting a chance to use the onsen too, no?

I’ll find a key for you too, in case you want privacy! Just give me a sec——

Yui: …!

( Eh—!? Me? In the onsen? With Ayato-san still around? That’s…! )

Chief: Here they are~!

— hands them the keys —

But I should also mention... because the onsen is a relatively new feature of the hotel, we only have one single room so far. So, uhm... it would be great if you two wouldn’t go at the same time.

— Yui blushes —

Yui: ( Just one onsen... but what if we truly run into each other? )

Ayato: Alright, I’ll go there right now. You can go after I’m done, ‘kay?

I’m not exactly in the mood to wait around, so I’ll make it quick, no worries.

Yui: S-Sure, take your time.

Ayato: Will do~

— takes key and leaves —

*timeskip*

Yui: ( I wonder if he’s done by now… it’s already been three hours. )

— looks at clock —

( Yeah… I suppose he must be. I should start getting my things ready. )

— walks over to her bag and gets her towel —

( I hope the water helped him relax. He did seem tense after all… )

— leaves room —

Place: Onsen Entrance

Yui: ( It’s so quiet... he definitely left, didn’t he? )

( A-Anyway, I should knock or say something, just in case. )

*Knock Knock*

Uhm… Ayato-san? Are you still there?

*Knock Knock*

( No answer once again… )

— tries the handle —

( It’s locked? )

( Ah, he most likely locked it after he left, right? Yeah… that must be it. There’s no way he’d still be inside after all this time. )

— opens door with key and gets inside —

( Just as I thought, nobody’s here! )

— locks door —

( Hehe, time to finally relax! )

— starts unbuttoning her clothes —

( This indoor onsen is way bigger than I thought… The ceiling’s high, the walls are lined with smooth stone, and the pool is so huge that it almost covers the whole room! )

( No wonder the second one isn’t finished yet. This must’ve taken forever to build. The attention to detail alone is amazing! )

— slowly gets into water —

Ah~ so warm…!

( And to think they let me use this… I guess being partnered with Ayato-san really came with some unexpected perks, fufu. )

— stretches —

( So good… I feel like I could instantly fall as—— )

* Ring Ring *

( Eh!? Someone’s calling? )

— her eyes snap open—

( Wait! That’s... that’s not my ringtone? )

( Don’t tell me—! )

Ayato: “Haa... What is it this time?”

Yui: ...!

( That voice… it’s coming from the other side of the divider! )

( No… no, it can’t be— )

Ayato: “Yeah, it’s just me, why? Heh, so he finally woke up? Damn, can’t blame him though, since I had a pretty long nap too. So how is he feeling?”

“Oh, understandable. You took mine too? Mhm, it’s better this way.”

Yui: ( He… He’s been here the entire time…! )

( If he finds out I’m in the same onsen while he’s still inside, I’ll surely get in troubles! )

( What if he thinks I planned this!? )

Ayato: ( Ugh, my phone's dying.)

"I'll call you again, just need to find an outlet for my charger, 'kay?"

Yui: ( Ah, he's coming this way...! )

— gets underwater —

Ayato: ( Now where are the outlets supposed to be? Can’t see any at all. )

Yui: ( Did he leave? I don’t know how much longer I can hold my breath… )

( The water is so hot too…! )

Ayato: ( Whatever. I’ll just leave it like this for now. )

( More importantly… what is that? )

— gets closer —

Yui: ( Uuh… this pressure…! )

( I… I can’t… brea—— )

*SPLASH*

Ayato: Care to explain what the hell you’re doing here?

Yui: Aya…——

— faints —

Ayato: Fuck…!

— pulls her out of water —

*timeskip*

— Yui starts coughing —

Yui: Ngh... ah... I-I'm alive!

( But wait… why can’t I move? )

— eyes widen —

( No way! I'm tied to a bamboo stick!? )

Ayato: Finally awake, huh.

Yui: A-Ayato-san!

— face turns red —

( I-I can’t even cover myself...! This is beyond embarrassing! )

( To think that he really went as far as to tie me up… that’s completely unreasonable! )

Yui: D-Don’t look at me like that!

Ayato: Tch. You're in no position to tell me what to do.

Besides, you should be grateful I didn’t report you. Most people would’ve called the cops by now, don’t you think?

Yui: I-It’s not like I did it on purpose! I merely assumed you left! The door was locked, and… and I had a the key too, so… it’s just a misunderstanding, I swear!

Ayato: A misunderstanding, huh?

Tell me then, did you even bother checking the whole room before stripping down? If you had, you would've definitely noticed I was still here.

Yui: That’s… I can’t argue with that. But I truly didn’t have any bad intentions, I was just careless!

Ayato: And why should I believe you’re not just some stalker?

You know I’m famous. You’ve listened to my music and watched my MVs—based on what you said in the kitchen. And then there's the fact that, when we first met, you acted like you didn’t recognize me at all. Even though you're working at Yume no Mori, the very hotel that’s known for hosting events for idols.

And now, after everything, you somehow end up in the onsen at the exact same time as me?

Wherever I go, you just happen to show up too. So tell me, how do you think that looks from my perspective?

Yui: I-I think you must be mixing me up with someone else. When did I even pretend not to recognize you, Ayato-san?

Ayato: Haa… When you handed me that bottle of water outside the club, you moron!

Yui: Eh?

( What is he talking a— wait a second! The bottle of water…? )

…!

— eyes widen in shock —

( No way! Ayato-san… he was the boy I met on my very first night in Tokyo!? )

( The one who had a chest ache… who paid for my taxi… That was him! )

Ayato: Now quit playing dumb, it’s crystal clear you coming here was not an accident.

So what’s the deal with you? Are you really that desperate to get a glimpse of my body? Or is this just part of some sick little obsession you’ve got going on? Either way, it’s disgusting!

Yui: N-No! You got it wrong! I didn’t even know it was you that night!

I just saw someone who looked like they needed help, so I offered some water… that’s all!

And as for me being here... I didn’t come chasing after you or doing anything weird! I got this job through a work exchange program. It was all just a coincidence, not some plan to follow you around!

Ayato: Tch, when will you stop lying?

Yui: But I’m not!

Ayato: ( She’s not only dumb, but also got a damn big mouth. )

Fine, I’ll believe you.

Yui: ( Phew, thanks goodness… I really thought I got him mad. )

Ayato: But don’t start celebrating just yet. I’ve got a condition.

Yui: ( That tone… It’s never good when someone says "but there’s a condition" like that. )

Uuh… what kind of condition?

Ayato: Simple. You don’t tell anyone that you saw me at a private club that night. Not your friends, not your family, not your coworkers, not even your boss—no one.

— gets closer —

Actually, I want you to forget the whole thing. Erase it from your memory. You didn’t see me alone in Tokyo, and you sure as hell didn’t hand me a bottle of water in some alleyway.

Yui: ( That’s it? )

Yes, I promise.

Ayato: You better keep that promise, because if word gets out that I was in such a place, especially unguarded, it’ll stir up more trouble than you can imagine. One stupid rumor, and my entire career could take a hit. You get that, don’t you?

Yui: I-I do.

Ayato: Good. Then zip it and stop following me around. Or next time I won’t be this generous.

( I already took pictures of her in here. If she ever decides to snitch on me, I’ll make sure she goes down too. )

— unties her —

Yui: …!

Than——

Ayato: Don’t thank me. Just go put some clothes on. Then leave the onsen immediately.

— Yui nods —

Yui: ( He's scary when he's like this… But I guess I can't really blame him, can I?)

( It was stupid of me to come in without checking properly... so, I suppose it was indeed my fault. )

( To think he’s the boy I met that night after I first arrived in Tokyo... that truly caught me off guard. )

( Just what kind of person are you really, Ayato-san? )

I-I’m done!

Ayato: And why are you telling me this? You expecting an award or something?

Just unlock the damn door and leave already.

— Yui starts searching key —

Yui: ( Now where did I put it? I know I had the key when I came in… maybe it slipped into the towel?)

— checks towel —

( Oh no… it's not here either? Don’t tell me I dropped it somewhere in the changing area? Or worse… in the water!? )

Hey… Ayato-san? I… I can’t really seem to find my key, so could you maybe lend me yours…? J-Just for a second! I promise I’ll give it back right away!

Ayato: ( Seriously!? First she breaks in, then she nearly drowns, and now this? )

You're telling me you managed to lose a single key in a closed room in less than two hours?

Yui: Uhh… I must’ve dropped it somewhere without noticing...

Ayato: Haa…

— pulls out his key —

I guess if you beg nicely, I might give it to you.

Yui: B-Beg!?

Ayato: …Or do you wanna stay locked in here all night and explain yourself to the hotel staff tomorrow?

Yui: No, no!

Ayato: Good, then be a good dog and do as I tell you.

Yui: ( A dog, huh…? If that’s what you really want… )

— sits on all fours and looks at him —

Ayato: …!?

Yui: P-Please, give me the——

Ayato: You… you obscene bitch!

Yui: Eh?

( Wait what? )

Ayato: ( What the hell is wrong with her!? To sit on all fours in front of a man who’s only wearing a towel… did she want to suck me off!? )

Leave me alone already!!!

Yui: But I—

Ayato: I-I said leave me alone!

— shoves her out then shuts the door —

Yui: Ayato-san…

Yui’s monologue

So many things happened today… It’s almost overwhelming trying to piece them all together.

From carrying the luggage, to cooking with Ayato-san… and then—

The onsen. That whole incident. My heart still hasn’t stopped racing…

I came to Tokyo with simple intentions: to work, to learn, and to make new friends.

And yet…

The boy I met on my first night here and the one I couldn't stop thinking about…

He turned out to be Ayato. Ayato, the frontman of SAKAMAKIS. A name everyone knows. A face on billboards.

Someone so far removed from my world, it's really laughable to think we’d ever cross paths again—

Yet we did.

But instead of a reunion, it felt like rejection.

I made a mistake… and now he sees me as nothing more than a nuisance. Maybe even worse.

I keep telling myself that it shouldn’t matter. That it’s impossible for an ordinary person to get closer to an idol.

But then…

Why am I crying now?

[mygoodfriendjohnathanharker]

AITA for throwing my houseguest's shaving glass out the window?

For context I (don't worry about my age M) have a solicitor (22 M) currently staying at my home for business purposes. For for the purpose of this post I will call my solicitor J.

J arrived a few days ago now and has been very well behaved staying in a small section of my home and being more then willing to answer any of my questions about the purchase and his fascinating home country (England).

This morning I went to visit him in his quarters to let him know breakfast was ready when I walked on him shaving. Now for personal medical reasons I will not discuss here have banned all mirrors and reflective objects from my home. It appeared through Johnathan brought his own mirror though. I accidentally startled him when I entered and he cut himself while shaving which set off my prior mentioned medical issues. This resulted in my lunching at him but I didn't actually touch him so it is no matter.

Now here is where I may be the asshole. Once I had collected my self I throw his mirror out the window and down a cliff face into the forest below. It was pure impulse. I played it off as taking revenge on it for making him cut him self and called it "a foul bauble of man's vanity". We moved on from the incident quickly but now J looks a bit uncomfortable around me.

I feel it should have been obvious from the lack of reflective surfaces in my home that mirrors are not allowed, but I technically never said it. I only told him not to go into locked rooms or fall asleep outside of his room. But who even brings a mirror with them when they travel? Anyway what do you all think, was I am asshole but tossing him mirror or just taking care of my self because of my medical issues?

[psformybss]

hiii! i saw your post saying to send drew asks so i thought i would send one! feel free to not do this it's just an idea :) anyways my idea was angsty with a fluffy ending and drew and reader have been dating privately for about a year and hes been getting more distant lately, and you see a lot of paparazzi posts about him and odessa hanging out together and everyone online is shipping them because they are unaware of his gf. as drew pulls away more reader starts to really second guess their relationship and she breaks down one night when he says hes going out and then he apologizes and comforts her and then he hard launches their relationship :) dont worry if you dont want to do it!

Just Say Something

drew starkey x reader

warnings: angst, miscommunication, emotional breakdown, jealousy, secret relationship, comfort, fluff ending

an: hiii, i absolutely loved this idea! sorry it took me so long to post i had something like this written for my hidden vows series and couldn’t remember if i posted it or not (still not sure about it) but i decided to post this anyway because i loved it.

You always knew dating Drew wouldn’t be simple. Not in the everyday kind of way where you fight over what to watch on Netflix or argue about which coffee beans to buy. There was never going to be quiet normalcy. Not when his life moved under a spotlight that only seemed to get brighter.

But what you have—had—was yours. Quietly, privately, entirely yours.

Until it started to feel like maybe it wasn’t anymore.

It wasn’t one big thing. It was small things. The first time he didn’t call when he said he would. The unread messages. The short replies. The way he came home and kissed your cheek like a habit, not a choice.

You let it go. People get busy. People get tired.

But the distance didn’t fade. It grew, slow and steady, and it settled between you like fog—hard to see through, harder to name.

And then the pictures started.

You weren’t even looking for them. They just showed up. Pushed onto your feed, trending under his name. Drew and Odessa on a sidewalk in Silver Lake, coffees in hand, smiling at something only they could hear. Her hand on his arm. Him leaning in like no one else was there.

The next day, it was Melrose. Different clothes. Same closeness.

The comments were the worst part.

People shipping them like it was written in the stars. TikToks to soft indie music. Edits that made it look like they’d been together forever. Everyone falling for the idea of them. The chemistry. The “meant to be.”

Not one person asked who he might actually be with.

Not one mention of you.

And Drew? He didn’t bring it up. Didn’t joke about the headlines. Didn’t reassure you. He just walked through the door each night and acted like nothing had changed.

But it had.

It had changed, and you could feel it in the space between his hands and your waist, in the way he looked at you like he was somewhere else.

You tried to push it down. You really tried.

But the longer he stayed quiet, the louder the doubt got. It kept you up at night. It followed you through your days. And eventually, it started to sink into your bones like cold water.

The night it all broke, it was raining hard. One of those loud, relentless storms that makes the windows rattle and the air feel heavy. You were sitting on the edge of the bed in his hoodie, sleeves pulled down over your hands, staring at the floor like it might offer answers. Your phone was face-down on the nightstand. You already knew what was on it.

He walked in, already grabbing his jacket, keys clinking in his hand.

“I’m heading out,” he said without looking at you.

You blinked slowly. “Where?”

He shrugged. “Wes called. Might be some people out. I don’t know.”

You stood up before you even realized you were moving.

“Is Odessa gonna be there?”

He looked up then, finally meeting your eyes.

“I don’t know,” he said, voice tight. “Maybe.”

Your heart sank. Not because of the answer. But because he didn’t even flinch giving it.

“Do you know what it feels like,” you asked, each word quiet and sharp, “to watch the whole world think you’re with someone else while you act like I don’t even exist?”

He didn’t speak.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, forcing the next words out before they dissolved.

“I see the pictures. Everyone does. I see how people talk about you two. I see how you let them.”

His brow furrowed. “You think I’m doing this on purpose?”

“I think you stopped choosing me a while ago,” you said, voice shaking now. “And I think I’ve been pretending not to notice because I didn’t want to lose you.”

Something in your chest cracked open, and it all came pouring out before you could stop it.

“I’m tired, Drew. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one who remembers what we have. You don’t tell me what’s going on anymore. You come home late and kiss my forehead like a chore. You don’t look at me like you used to.”

His face softened, the edges of his frustration fading. He opened his mouth, but you kept going.

“I’ve been holding it together, trying not to seem insecure, trying not to ask for too much. But this? This is killing me.”

The tears came fast after that. No slow build. Just a sudden wave you couldn’t stop.

“I’m not some secret you keep in your back pocket,” you whispered. “I’m not a placeholder.”

He stepped forward, then hesitated, his hand hovering just above your arm. “Hey. Look at me.”

You didn’t want to. But you did.

His eyes were glassy. His voice dropped.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was making you feel like this.”

You pulled back a little. “Then what were you doing?”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, exhaling slowly.

“I thought I was protecting us. Keeping you away from all of… this. The noise. The press. The comments. I wanted us to stay ours.”

You shook your head. “But you didn’t protect anything. You just left me out in the cold.”

He stepped closer again, slower this time, and when you didn’t move away, he reached for your face. His fingers were gentle, tentative, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him touch you anymore.

“I got scared,” he said quietly. “Scared that if I showed the world what we have, they’d ruin it. They’d pick it apart. I’ve seen it happen. But I didn’t see what it was doing to you. That’s on me.”

You closed your eyes. The storm outside felt like it had moved into your chest.

“I don’t care about their opinions. I just care about you being honest with me.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ve been a coward. I thought I could keep you safe by hiding us, but that just made you feel invisible. And I hate that I did that to you.”

You opened your eyes. “So now what?”

He was so close you could feel his breath against your skin. He didn’t hesitate this time. His hands framed your face, steady and warm.

“Now I show up,” he said. “Now I stop hiding.”

And then he kissed you.

Not to fix it. Not to shut you up.

It was slow and full of everything he hadn’t said until now. His fingers slid into your hair. Your hands curled into the front of his shirt. The kiss wasn’t perfect. It was messy and wet with the salt of your tears, and it hurt a little, in the way healing does.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, breathing each other in, letting the silence fill with something softer.

That night, you fell asleep in his arms. His chest was warm against your back, and his hand stayed wrapped around yours like a promise he wouldn’t let go.

You didn’t talk about what came next. You just let yourself rest.

Two mornings later, you wake up to your phone buzzing off the nightstand.

Drew’s already up, standing by the kitchen window in an old shirt, coffee mug in hand. He looks calm. Steady. Like the man you fell for.

“Morning,” he says when he sees you, soft and simple.

“Why is my phone exploding?”

He smiles, a little sheepishly.

You unlock it, scroll instinctively to Instagram, and freeze.

It’s the two of you. A blurry photo, definitely from his phone. You’re tugging him down mid-laugh, half cut off by the frame, hoodie sleeve bunched around your fist where it clutches his shirt. He’s looking at you like you hung the damn stars.

Caption:

Not my co-star. My whole world.

You’re tagged.

You sit down slowly on the couch, phone still in your hand.

“You okay?” he asks.

You look up at him. “You posted this?”

“I meant what I said. I’m done hiding.”

The notification count is ridiculous. Your DMs are a mess. You don’t even want to look at Twitter.

But you don’t care.

Because he’s looking at you the way he used to. The way he always should have. And he didn’t just say it this time. He meant it.

You set your phone down and cross the room to him. He sets his mug aside as you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your cheek against his chest. His arms fold around you like they were always meant to.

“I love you,” he says, quiet against your hair.

You close your eyes.

“I love you too.”

And for the first time in a long time, it feels safe to say it.