#i asked her about it but she was denying it like. when will you stop lying to me

[sometimesanalice]

Oh I adore getting your reblogs! It's always so fun getting to read someone's thoughts about things! But I'm also so happy that you enjoyed this one!

more for you!

Many thoughts...

He’s never been able to resist a bad girl wrapped up like the girl-next-door.

I can 100% see that-- that man never stood a chance! he likes to play the game, especially when the girl he's interested in is leading the way 🤭

He knew how good his biceps looked in the short sleeves of his uniform. And the way his pants clung to his legs and ass. He’d been spending a lot of his free time in the gym lately and it showed.

Yeah, let's show it off 😌-- he's such a slut (affectionate)! but if you ask him he'd just say he's a feminist and doing it for the female gaze, lmao

 He wanted that smile turned on him. Wanted to see if the look in your bright eyes would be just as playful with your gaze pinned on him instead. He wanted to be the one making you laugh.

A man on a mission-- my favorite little attention whore

It’s not like he’s going to go over there and lick your face like a kid might try and claim dibs on a cupcake.

Lmao that would be funny though 😅-- maybe next time, lmaooo. but also he knows what he's bringing to the able and backs himself all the way, he's not afraid of a little competition (not that there is any, haha)

Bradley’s never been one to shy away from making an entrance.

Oh, we all know 😅-- the cockwalk alone deserved an oscar

“Well, shucks,” you say with an over exaggerated shrug. “What about if I said I was roped into waking up at an ungodly hour to catch a flight up here because my best friend’s boyfriend is a Naval aviator and she wanted me to keep her company for the ‘casual five-hour cruise’, as you called it.” “Now that I believe,” he drawled. “So, what’s his name?” “Well, she calls him Jacob. He has one of those silly callsigns too, but I always forget it,” you scrunch your nose adorably as you search for it, “Something-man.” “You mean Bagman?” “Yeah, that sounds right.”

A woman teasing Jake? Bradley is probably thinking about proposing right then and there😅-- the easiest way to win over bradley bradshaw is to dunk on jake at any given opportunity, lol

“A private tour? Lucky me,” you purr. “Lead the way Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.” You knew what you were doing, he’d give you that. And he was eating it up with a spoon ready to ask for second, third, and fourth helpings. 

😌🤭😌🤭-- she's got him soooo wrapped around her finger, and good for her it's what she deserves!

And he knows he shouldn’t, that he could get in some big trouble for showing you areas that weren’t explicitly on the official list of tour stops. But he’s always been more of the apologize later type. Plus, he hasn’t been on this ship for very long, it’s not his fault if he manages to get conveniently turned around.

Definitely not his fault 🤷🏻‍♀️😅-- he's innocent your honor!

You reach up and run a playful finger along the brim of his cap, “So what’s a girl got to do to get a turn wearing the hat?” His mind flashes with images of the last time he’d let a woman wear it. “I’ll have you know this is technically Naval property, they don’t let just anyone have one. You usually have to earn it. But for you?” he pauses and gives you a heated once over, “I’ll let you try it on for free.”

His hat has probably been worn by multiple women before 🤭-- that hat has definitely seen some action that's for sure, lmao. and who he is who deny anyone who wants to try it on for size 🤭

He likes that you want to know these details about his job, he likes that he gets to share this with you. Even if the clock is ticking down before he has to get back on deck.

That's so cute 😍-- he doesn't often get to share this side of things so indepthly with anyone, he's definitely not missing his moment here!

“It represents strong ties, baby. It’s a symbol for the supportive partners and wives of those serving onboard,” he whispers low and sweet into your ear. “Bradley,” you sigh as you turn your head towards him for a kiss. It’s desperate and wet. And he can almost taste the neediness of your moan on his tongue. He’s never done anything like this while on duty on a ship before, and the thrill of it has his veins thrumming with adrenaline.

There always has to be a first time 😌-- the man likes to live on the edge! the adrenaline rush of it all! plus everyone else is busy, and it is called the ready room after all haha

“You’ve had me hook, line and sinker since the damn second I saw you.” He grinds himself against your ass and you whimper at the contact. “What do you want from me? I’ll be so good to you, so good for you.” “Fuck me.” He can feel his pulse thundering in his throat. “I’m trying to,” you whine.

Oh I bet he does 🤭🤤-- we all know that man doesn't half ass anything and we thank him for his service!

And he’ll sure as shit never be able to be in a Ready Room again without getting a hard-on. The memory of you bent over the table before him will forever be ingrained in his brain.

🤭🤭🤭-- she's definitely made a lasting impression on him!

“I see you found your gift early, baby.”

Ahhhh omg-- i love a good twist!! and this one is one of my favorites!! 🤭🤭🤭

Bradley would never forget the first time he saw you that night at the bar downtown last year during Fleet Week. He had noticed you right away, it had been impossible not to. You and your girlfriends had been all done up in hot pink outfits for the Bachelorette party you were out celebrating. Your friend had flounced right up to Jake taking the shot of whiskey out of his hand before swallowing it down then cheekily offering to buy him a replacement. Hangman had been wrapped around her finger ever since.

Love that they both met each other's partners on the same night out 😅-- i ended up writing about the night they met! if you ever want to read it it's called "wildest dreams"! it's another cheeky and fun one, but I loved getting to explore just what happened the night they met!

He could never be mad at you, especially not with his necklace around your neck. You were his, and he was so gone for you. “It looks so pretty on you,” he tells you softly as his fingers brush over your collarbones.

Oh he is so in love🥰-- he's so down bad!

“Oh my god, Rooster, I can’t we defiled Naval property.” You giggle as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to circle your arms around his neck. “I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been defiling Naval property ever since you brought me home with you the night we met.”

^^ the most perfect gif in existence, lmao. they're both go getters ahahahaha

You take that cap off of your head and set it back on his, and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “Glad I’m getting a good return on my taxes then.” 

Facts 🤷🏻‍♀️-- i wouldn't mind getting a return on my taxes this way, just saying... lol

“Maybe it has a little something to do with the man in the uniform,” you make a little hum as you check him out. “You’re so tan, Bradley, have you been using the sunscreen I sent with you-”

Wear that SPF!!-- my fav hc is that he's always getting sunburnt because he just doesn't have the patience to put it on.

When you’re both back on the open flight deck he walks you over to the railing along the edge of the ship and wraps you up in his arms to watch the coastline crawl by with his last few moments of freedom. 

Ahh I loved all of this so much 🥰-- i'm so happy you liked it!! thank you for reading!!

Hey, Sailor

Summary: It’s Fleet Week and Rooster would rather be anywhere else than on the flight deck of the USS Portland. That is, until a pretty thing in a sundress catches his eye and then suddenly his day is looking up. 

Pairing: Bradley”Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.8K

Warnings: Flirty Banter, Smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in Summer Whites (Minors DNI)

Note: When @roosterforme​ asks you to write her a Fleet Week fic, you write the Fleet Week fic! Here you go, Em!  💛

Normally, Rooster loved Fleet Week.

He loved the lively atmosphere and the parades. He loved the free drinks that were handed to him as soon as he entered a bar. And he especially loved all the attention he got from women when he wore his Summer Whites.

He usually came back to the ship looking less than pristine with lipstick on the collar of his uniform and hidden on other places on his body.

The USS Portland was teaming with excited families and camera-happy civilians taking in the sights from deck of the transport ship as they settled in for the five-hour journey to the San Diego. It was a Fleet Week tradition to welcome people aboard for an immersive experience, picking them up from a port further up North and then cruising along the coast before making their final docking for the week.

There were grills set up on the deck and the smell of flame kissed hamburgers and hotdogs mixed with the sea salt air. The sun was shining and the mood was light.

But this year, Rooster simply could not be bothered to give a fuck.

Keep reading

[organic-bloodbath]

Hwang In-ho x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: You're In-ho's wife, but know nothing about him being the Frontman. Without his knowledge, you've been taken to play the games too. One night he explains everything to you about being the Frontman.

A/N: This was a request i got, i hope you like 🫶🏻 I haven't written about him before so i wasn't sure how to portray him here. This also became a lot longer than how i originally thought it would turn out.

♡♡♡

Your husband was lying to you about something. You knew he wasn't telling you everything, but every time you asked about it, he would just deny that there was anything going on.

He told you that he'd soon be leaving for a 'work trip' and would be back home in a week. He didn't tell you any details, nothing about what it was even about, he was really dodgy about the situation. You knew it wasn't just a work trip, something was going on and you had to find out what.

♡♡♡

You were in a large field with hundreds of other people, all dressed in identical green tracksuits, including you. People were getting shot, the ground was full of blood and fresh corpses.

You were running towards the finish line behind everyone else, until you fell on your back when someone pushed you, running past you and not caring about your life at all. You winced and held your head as you sat up and realized too late what you had just done.

You had moved.

You had moved when the giant doll was scanning for any movements in the area. You were going to die and so was your unborn child. Someone was going to shoot you to death and you buried your face into your hands, as if that would prevent you from getting shot. A few people here and there were being eliminated and you waited for your turn.

But it didn't come. The doll had turned around and the players continued running. Had they missed you? Not noticed that you hadn't stayed still?

"Psst," someone said next to you. "You better get up if you want to get to the finish line and live."

He was right, you were far behind from everyone else and if you didn't start running soon, you'd be dead for being too slow.

♡♡♡

The Frontman was sitting on his leather couch, watching the game on the big screen and sipping whiskey. When the first player had moved, a chaos ensued and people started running around in panic, bullets dropping them down one by one. In-ho's favorite part of this game was the players realizing what 'being eliminated' meant for them.

Then, his heart stopped and he almost spilled the whiskey on his black suit. He saw someone familiar among the players.

Y/N. His own wife was taking a part in the games. How the hell had she ended up here?!

Just a few minutes ago he was enjoying the show, relaxing and taking a bet in his mind how many players would survive through the game. But then there was you who had no idea what you had just gotten into.

No, no, no, no - this wasn't happening.

He needed to know why someone allowed her to come here and why he wasn't aware of it. He had seen all the files of the players, all of them. You weren't even in any debts, Hwang In-ho knew that, so how was it possible you were pulled here? Someone had stripped you and put the same green tracksuit on you as everyone else.

Maybe he was seeing things. Player 002. That was your number. Maybe she just looked like you. The camera which was recording this game had done a close-up on a few players and it was enough to recognise you.

He wasn't going to let you stay here and play these games. This wasn't your place to be, this was meant for people who needed money urgently and had no other choice.

♡♡♡

The moment you saw your husband walk through the crowd, anger rose inside you. You wanted to hit him, kick him, throw all sorts of insults at him for lying to you.

Your eyes met, about thirty metres between you two. You were the first one to start walking towards him and he came to you half way.

"What the hell is going on, In-ho?!" you shouted, not caring how many people heard and how much of it.

"Y/N, please-"

"'Y/N please', just tell me what on earth you're doing here? What is this place? Is this your so called 'work trip', hm?"

Another man was near him, looking at the two of you, confused but not wanting to intervene what was going on.

"I didn't want to tell you because you'd only get worried and-"

"Worried? Worried?! You came to a place where you could be killed! You didn't tell me anything where you were going!"

"How are you here?"

"I tried to follow you."

"Follow me?"

"You were hiding something from me, for weeks you were acting so suspicious and i needed to know what was going on," you explained, standing so close to him that you could smell his breath and barely letting yourself to breathe between the words, you wanted to get everything out of you as fast as possible.

"I would have explained everything after i'd come back."

"Well sorry i didn't know that because you don't talk to me anymore." You stepped back and started pacing back and forth, fingers brushing through your hair. You took a few deep breaths to calm down before looking at him again. "But what if you hadn't come back anymore? What if you got killed? Would i ever know about that?"

He stepped closer to you again and wrapped his arms around you, even though you tried to resist at first.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, i truly am," he apologized with a sincere voice and then made you look at him again. "But like everyone else, i didn't know i was going to die and i really needed to get more money to pay off a few debts."

You looked at him for a moment until just stormed away and left him stand there alone.

♡♡♡

At night while lying on your bed, you were gently rubbing your bare stomach, as if trying to comfort your baby that everything was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. The baby's dad was going to be okay.

You would get back home, all three of you, and continue your life like before.

Who were you fooling? Nothing was the same anymore. In-ho had abandoned you for money, lied to you because of money, not giving you attention all because of more money.

Your baby was three months old by now and you could see the bump but it could still be hidden under your shirt and jacket well enough. You hadn't told In-ho yet, you should have told him weeks ago.

But he had put everything else before you in the past couple of months. You were also scared to tell him, especially now because you thought he would be mad at you for not telling him sooner that he was going to be a father. You had waited for a moment where he would notice you again and spare a moment of his busy day just for you, but that day had never seemed to come anymore.

Now thinking about it - he had no right to be mad at you for not telling him. Still, you were nervous, and being trapped in this place didn't help it at all.

It took you almost an hour, but eventually you fell asleep and it was one of the worst night's sleeps you'd had during the pregnancy.

♡♡♡

You were safe. In-ho had made sure that you stayed safe. He argued with the guards for an hour how it was possible to allow his own wife to get involved as a player but nobody knew any details. But somehow they had tricked the system in the first game that the doll ignored any movements you had made.

But what's done is done. He couldn't get you out of the game by just letting you leave while everyone else stayed. Majority of people wanted to stay here, according to the votes, they needed the money for their own good and didn't care about any casualties that didn't involve themselves.

You were mad at him and he understood why. But he couldn't tell you about the game and how all his time was spent to plan everything out. What if he had told you all about these games? Would you still love him or would it make you leave? You were his entire world, much more important than these games.

But he wasn't able to quit, not now, not yet. It would absolutely ruin him if you packed your bags and never wanted to see him again.

He would make sure that you will get out of here and back home, no matter what. And he'd have to tell you everything eventually, and that thought terrified him, seeing how angry you had been earlier.

♡♡♡

"You doing alright?" Gi-hun asked the next morning when you had woken up, taking careful steps towards you as if you were going to bite him if he approached you too fast.

"Yeah, fantastic."

"Listen, i don't want to meddle between you two because i don't know either of you well, but we'll have to work together to get through these games," Gi-hun explained. "The most important thing now is to survive and get through the games so we can get out of here as fast as possible."

He was right, of course there had to be one man to talk sense to the rest of the group.

"I know, i know," you sighed. "It's just been hard for me lately and he hasn't shown appreciation to me and we don't communicate anymore."

"In-ho seems like a good man," Gi-hun admitted. "And none of us told our friends or family members that we would be joining the games, it wasn't allowed to spread the information to outsiders. Please, don't blame him, not right now."

You slightly nodded. "You're right, thank you, Gi-hun."

"Let's go eat before the next game starts, okay?"

♡♡♡

After you had passed the second game, you were getting a little suspicious of him once again.

It was only a small thing which nobody else probably noticed, but why did he throw the toy with his right hand? He failed several times, but succeeded immediately when he threw it with his left hand. You had always known he was left-handed.

You woke up at night and had to go to the bathroom.

It was like he was wasting time on purpose to leave your victory to the last second and it pissed you off. However, you had passed the game so you decided to leave it be - for now.

"Please, i really need to go," the small girl from your group pleaded.

"Nobody is allowed to leave the area at this hour."

"I need go too, just let us through. We'll only take a few minutes," you said, tired to argue about getting to go to pee.

The guard looked at you through the glass for a short moment until opened the door without further questions.

"5 minutes."

You were surprised and Jun-hee looked at you in even more shock but hurried inside.

You came out of your stall after couple of minutes and was about to go wash your hands when you heard crying and sniffing from one of the other stalls.

"Hey," you said and knocked on the pink door. "Hey, you good?"

No answer, only quiet sobs.

Oh my god don't you dare to start giving birth right now, you started thinking inside your head. You were not going to start delivering a baby in the bathroom while guards with guns were telling you to hurry up.

"Hey, can you open the door?"

But the door wasn't locked, as you had thought, and it opened easily, showing the girl crying, her cheeks wet from the tears and eyes red. You kneeled down in front of her and held her hands in her lap.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain? Is it something to do with the baby?"

"I'm scared," she sniffed. "I want to go home."

Your heart broke just by looking at her.

"We'll get you home, i promise," you said. "We'll all go home and you'll be able to raise your child."

"You promise?" she asked, looking at you directly in the eyes.

"I promise. I'm pregnant too."

Jun-hee stopped crying for a moment and looked at you, shocked. "You are?" she gasped and looked towards your stomach. You nodded with a weak smile. "How far are you?"

"3 months."

"And the dad...?" she started. "Is it the man in our group? In-ho?" She wasn't sure if she remembered his name correctly.

"Yeah, he doesn't know yet," you said and felt ashamed.

"You should tell him. Soon. We don't know how much time we have left here," she encouraged.

"Stop it, we have all the time in the world."

But she was right, you had to tell him as soon as you could.

You got up and put your arms around Jun-hee, brushing her back with your hand to try to calm her down a little bit. It seemed to help after a little while.

"Time's up," a guard said behind the door.

"Just a second," you yelled and turned back to Jun-hee. "You good to go back?" She nodded and wiped the remaining tears from her face. "Come on, let's go. If you need anything, just come to me, okay?"

You were on your way back to your bed, when you saw In-ho walk away from his bunk. You were confused, since he wasn't going to the bathroom, it was a different door where the players never went and weren't allowed to.

You quietly walked towards the same door where your husband has sneaked into. A guard stood in front of you, stopping you.

"That area is forbidden from players at this time, go back to sleep," the guard instructed but you weren't having it.

"Funny, since a certain player just went in there," you said and put your hands on your hips. "Now tell me where he went or i'll cause a scene."

"Player 002, go back to your bed, you'll see him in the morning."

"I am not leaving anywhere before you take me to my husband."

"Please, player-"

"I said now."

You were standing right in front of the guard, mere inches between you two. Eventually, since there was no way you weren't going to give up and would cause a massive scene, he hesitantly opened the door and let you in.

The guard started walking upstairs and through several corridors you haven't been in before, you walking behind him and starting to internally freak out what was going on.

You ended up in front of a large door and the guard hesitated for a moment, until he glanced at you and knocked on the door.

When the door was opened, your beloved husband was standing there, looking at you with a terrified face.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Sir, i'm sorry but she insisted-"

In-ho grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room past the guard.

"Go back to your duties," In-ho commanded the guard.

"Yes, sir," was the only response the guard gave and then hurried to leave. In-ho closed the door.

Looking around the room, it looked like an office and it was only you and him in the room, nobody else. You crossed your arms against your chest.

"Now tell me exactly what the hell is going on. And no more lies or excuses - nothing. You're going to tell me the truth about everything or you can say goodbye to me."

"Okay, sweetheart, calm down. Just please let me explain."

And he did tell you everything. His involvement in the games, being a former winner, becoming a Frontman and everything he could think of.

Your face was horrified, you two had been together for the past 5 years, married 3 of those years and he had basically lived a double life and keeping everything a secret from you?

All those 'work trips' he had used as excuses over the years made now much more sense, all the pieces were connecting to each other and falling into their places.

"I understand if you hate me right now, despise me or however you feel about these games - i understand," he explained, letting out a deep sigh. He took your hand in his and looked at you directly in the eyes, his dark eyes mixed with several emotions all at once. "I was afraid to tell you because i feared you would leave me and stop loving me."

"I could never stop loving you, no matter what, In-ho," you said and put your hand on his cheek. "I said it in my wedding vows too, i'll always love you until the day i die. In good and in bad, yes?"

Of course you weren't fine with this. These games were brutal, almost barbaric. But you loved In-ho more than anything in the world and you were fighting with yourself how you could learn to be okay with this.

"I just... i just need time to think these things through," you said, then taking a deep breath and taking his hands in yours, just like he had done to you only a moment ago. "Now that we're talking openly, there's something i must tell you and should have told you a lot earlier."

"Yes?" he said, encouraging you to continue when you had fallen silent for a few seconds.

"I'm pregnant," you revealed, it was almost a whisper but he had heard you, loud and clear.

"You... You're what?" he gasped, looking at your stomach and then back to your eyes.

You brought his left hand on your stomach.

"We're going to have a baby, my love," you told him.

He looked like he was about to cry and pulled you into a tight hug. You knew he wanted to become a dad, had wanted for a long time but you hadn't been able to become pregnant before, no matter how much you tried.

He held your face in his hands, kissed you and then looked into your eyes.

"I'm going to be a dad," he whispered, as if it sounded too good to be true.

"And i'm going to be a mother," you said back. "To your baby."

You stayed there for a long time, until both of you were forced to go back to your beds.

♡♡♡

The Mingle game had started and you were all spinning on a huge carousel. In-ho was holding your hand, squeezing it hard.

When it was time to choose 4 people to find a room together, you and In-ho were separated. People were pushing and pulling each other and the time was running out.

Everything happened so fast.

The time ran out and In-ho had ended up in a room with three other players. And you? You were left outside, still on the carousel which was now stopped.

The pink guards shot the remaining players, pleading for help and to spare their life, but their cries were for nothing. You looked on your right and saw Jun-hee standing there too, looking at you with a terrified face.

One of the pink guards came in front of you, the black gun in his arms.

♡♡♡

The plan to get you out of there was simple. You were going to fake your death and In-ho was going to act all heart broken for the loss of both his wife and his unborn child. He would act like only a shell of a man who he had used to be. Anything to convince Gi-hun and others that his wife was dead and he blamed it all on himself.

You only had one requirement for doing this. One wish that In-ho had to make happen or you weren't going to cooperate anymore.

To let Kim Jun-hee go home with you. Let her go as well and raise her child in safety. You knew she wouldn't otherwise survive to the end and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you left and she stayed.

You also made In-ho promise that she'd get her share of money and wouldn't leave this place empty handed. In-ho had gotten protective over Jun-hee during the short time she had been here, so even though he was reluctant to let any player out of here without all of them leaving, he allowed Jun-hee to go with you.

They would need to keep an eye on her for some time, to make sure that she wasn't going to do anything funny regarding to the games but you trusted her.

Before you left that night, In-ho came to see you one more time before he'd eventually come home too the next week.

"I love you," In-ho said, holding you tightly in his arms. He took your face into his hands and pulled you into a passionate kiss, kissing you like he was going to a year long war, but it was only going to be a few days anymore, under a week.

"I love you too," you said, couple of tears running down your cheeks.

Now, you and the girl were free to go. The guards escorted you out of there and you were taken back home. They didn't gas you or Jun-hee, in case the gas would harm the babies, but they did blindfold both of you, just in case you wanted to do something stupid and reveal the location to others - which you certainly weren't going to do.

The fact that so many other people stayed there to try and stay alive just to win money made you feel bad. But they were allowed to quit if they really wanted to. The game would be possible to end if the majority wanted it but they decided to stay.

You had to focus on your baby and prepare a good life for him or her, give them a nice and healthy life with you and their father who promised to quit the games after these were over.

He wouldn't take the job as the Frontman ever again, he had to move on and raise his child with the woman he loved the most in the world - you

[elryuse]

My Toxic Exes

Genre : Smut

Idol : Yeji, Giselle & Julie

Tags : Ex Gf Yeji, Giselle & Julie, Dirty Talking, Secret Sex, Cheating, Lots of Kissing, Sweaty Sex,

Word : 8,838 Word

Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.

That’s what you tell yourself as you stare at the ceiling, your body sinking into the mattress, numb. Your room is dark except for the faint glow of your phone screen, the only source of light illuminating the night.

Her last message still lingers on the screen.

"You’re overthinking."

You squeeze your eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. The images are still there. Her texts to someone else. The photo of them together. The way she denied it so easily, as if your feelings meant nothing.

Yeji.

The first girl you ever truly loved. The first girl who shattered you.

The first time you see her, she’s standing on a stage, dressed in a sharp black blazer and a white button-up shirt, her long, sleek hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She’s in the middle of a debate, her voice unwavering, her gaze sharp.

She’s stunning—not just in appearance, but in presence. She owns the room without even trying, commanding respect with every word she speaks.

You’re not supposed to be here. You only came because your friend begged you to watch their team compete, but now, all you can focus on is her.

When the debate ends, she wins—of course she does. You expect her to be cold and distant, but when she walks past you, she’s laughing with her teammates, her confidence melting into something warm and inviting.

And then, she notices you.

"Hey," she says, stopping in front of you. "Enjoy the debate?"

You blink. For a second, you think she’s talking to someone else. But no—her sharp brown eyes are locked onto yours, waiting.

"Uh, yeah," you stammer, caught off guard. "You were… really good."

She smirks, tilting her head slightly. "Thanks. I try."

And just like that, she walks away, leaving you standing there, completely entranced.

You don’t know it yet, but this is the beginning of something that will change you forever.

Getting to know Yeji is like getting close to a wildfire—intoxicating, thrilling, and impossible to control.

She’s not like anyone you’ve ever met before. She’s driven, passionate, and fiercely independent. She doesn’t need anyone, but somehow, she chooses you.

You start seeing her more often. First, it’s casual—study sessions, late-night talks about life and ambitions. Then, it becomes something more.

One night, after a long day of studying, you walk her home. It’s late, the streets nearly empty, and the cool night air makes your breath visible.

"You’re different," she says suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glance at her. "Different how?"

She shrugs, kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk. "Most guys I meet try too hard to impress me. But you… you’re just yourself."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Is that a good thing?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

She stops walking and turns to face you, her eyes searching yours. Then, without warning, she steps closer, closing the distance between you.

"It is," she murmurs.

And before you can process what’s happening, she kisses you.

It’s soft, hesitant at first, but then it deepens, her fingers curling into your hoodie as if she doesn’t want to let go.

When she finally pulls away, she grins.

"Let’s do this," she says. "Let’s see where this goes."

And just like that, you’re hers.

Being with Yeji is exhilarating. She challenges you, pushes you to be better, makes you feel like you can conquer anything.

She takes you to places you’ve never been, introduces you to people who admire her just as much as you do. She’s everything you never knew you needed—strong, fearless, and completely captivating.

But then, the cracks start to show.

It begins with small things. She gets easily frustrated when you don’t immediately understand something. She makes little comments about how you could "try harder" or "be more ambitious."

"You should be more confident," she tells you one day when you hesitate to speak in a group setting. "I can’t keep carrying the conversation for you."

It stings, but you brush it off. Maybe she just wants you to improve. Maybe she’s right.

Then, she starts getting distant.

She cancels plans more often, says she’s busy, but you start noticing the way she’s always on her phone, texting someone. You tell yourself it’s nothing. She’s popular, she has a lot of friends.

But then, one night, everything changes.

You don’t mean to see it. You’re just grabbing her phone to check the time while she’s in the shower. But the moment you pick it up, a notification pops up.

A message from someone you don’t recognize.

"Last night was amazing. Can’t wait to see you again."

Your chest tightens.

You open the conversation. There are pictures—her with another guy, laughing, leaning into him the way she used to lean into you. The texts are flirty, intimate.

Your hands shake as you set the phone back down. Your mind races, trying to make sense of what you just saw.

When she comes out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her head, she notices your expression immediately.

"What’s wrong?" she asks.

You swallow hard. "Who is he?"

She freezes for a split second—just a moment, but it’s enough.

"Who?" she asks, too casually.

"You know who," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I saw the messages, Yeji."

Silence.

Then, she exhales, rolling her eyes. "You’re overthinking."

Your heart cracks.

"Yeji, I saw the photos," you say, your voice trembling. "Just… tell me the truth."

She stares at you, and for the first time, you see something cold in her eyes—something detached.

"There’s nothing to tell," she says simply.

No apology. No remorse. Just a flat-out denial, as if you’re the one being unreasonable.

That’s when you realize—you could argue, you could beg for the truth, but it wouldn’t matter. She’s already decided to pretend like nothing happened.

And suddenly, you feel exhausted.

You thought love was supposed to be about trust, about believing in each other. But standing here, looking at her, you realize—this isn’t love. This is a game you’re never going to win.

So you do the only thing you can.

You leave.

You don’t cry that night. You just lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering where it all went wrong.

A part of you wants to believe she’ll call, that she’ll apologize, that she’ll tell you she made a mistake.

But deep down, you know she won’t.

Yeji never looks back.

And neither should you.

Moving on from Yeji isn’t easy.

Even after weeks pass, her absence lingers like a dull ache in your chest. You try distracting yourself—focusing on school, picking up new hobbies—but nothing fully silences the thoughts. The "what ifs" still creep in late at night, and the scars she left still sting when you least expect them.

But then, you meet Giselle.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel something different.

You don’t know much about her at first. You’ve seen her in passing, heard whispers of her name in hallways and classrooms. Giselle is popular—effortlessly so. She has that kind of energy that makes people gravitate toward her, a mix of confidence and playfulness that keeps her at the center of every social circle.

She’s the kind of girl you never thought you’d talk to, let alone date.

But fate has other plans.

It starts at a party—a rare event for you. Your friends practically drag you there, insisting you need to "get out more" after the whole Yeji situation. You don’t expect much. Just a few hours of music, drinks, and pretending to have fun.

But then, you see her.

Giselle is surrounded by people, laughing at something someone said, her presence magnetic. She’s wearing a sleek black dress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders. She looks… untouchable, like she exists in a different world.

And yet, somehow, her eyes find yours.

For a split second, your breath catches. You expect her to look away, to move on.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she smirks. Then, before you can react, she makes her way through the crowd and stops right in front of you.

"You look bored," she says, tilting her head. "Not a fan of parties?"

You chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. "Not really my scene."

She raises an eyebrow. "Then why are you here?"

"My friends dragged me."

Her lips curve into a smile. "Mine too."

And just like that, a conversation starts.

It’s easy with her. She’s witty, teasing, but not in a mean way. She asks questions that catch you off guard, making you laugh, making you forget—if only for a moment—about everything else.

By the end of the night, you’re surprised to find yourself enjoying her company. And when she casually hands you her phone, telling you to put your number in, You don’t hesitate.

For the first time in months, something stirs in your chest.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be different.

Dating Giselle is like stepping into a dream.

Everything moves fast. One moment, you’re just getting to know her, and the next, you’re in the whirlwind of her world—late-night drives, spontaneous trips to the beach, secret rendezvous between classes.

She makes you feel special in a way you never have before.

"You’re cute when you’re flustered," she says one evening, tapping your nose playfully.

You groan. "I’m not flustered."

She laughs, leaning closer. "You totally are."

She always knows how to make you smile, how to pull you out of your shell. And for a while, you think this might actually work.

But then, the cracks begin to show.

It starts with little things.

She gets irritated when you don’t answer her texts fast enough, even if you’re busy.

"Why are you ignoring me?" she asks one day, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

"I’m not," you reply, confused. "I was in class."

She pouts. "You could’ve at least texted me back during the break."

You brush it off, thinking she just likes attention. But then, it escalates.

She starts getting jealous—of your friends, of your time, of anything that isn’t her.

"Do you really have to hang out with them?" she asks one evening when you mention plans with an old friend.

"They’re my friends, Giselle."

She crosses her arms. "I just don’t get why you need to spend time with them when you have me."

It doesn’t seem like a big deal at first. Maybe she just really likes you, you tell yourself. Maybe she just wants to feel secure.

But then, one night, everything changes.

It happens after a small argument.

You don’t even remember how it starts—something about you not paying enough attention to her, about her feeling like you don’t care.

"You don’t put in enough effort," she snaps.

You blink. "Giselle, I do my best—"

"It’s not enough!" she interrupts, her voice rising.

You’re taken aback. "What do you want from me?"

She glares at you, her jaw clenched. Then, suddenly, she throws your phone across the room.

It crashes against the wall.

You freeze.

For a long moment, there’s only silence. Then, her expression shifts. The anger melts away, replaced by something else—something almost… remorseful.

"I…" She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. "I didn’t mean to do that."

But she did.

And you both know it.

Still, she steps forward, reaching for your hands. "I’m sorry," she murmurs. "I just… I love you so much, and I hate feeling like I’m not enough for you."

Her voice is soft, almost pleading. And for a second, your heart wavers.

But then you look at the broken phone on the floor.

And suddenly, you realize—you’ve been here before.

This isn’t love. This is control.

And you can’t do this again.

Leaving Giselle is harder than leaving Yeji.

Because she doesn’t let you go easily.

She texts, she calls, she shows up unannounced. She cries, begs, says she’ll change.

But you know better now.

And so, no matter how much it hurts, you walk away.

You think you’re done with love.

You think you’ll never let yourself fall again.

But then, you meet Julie.

And this time, you believe—just for a moment—that things will be different.

You tell yourself you won’t fall for anyone again.

Not after Yeji’s betrayal. Not after Giselle’s suffocating love. You’re tired of love—tired of opening your heart just to watch it be torn apart.

But then, Julie enters your life.

And for the first time in a long while, you start to believe again.

It happens unexpectedly, on a cold evening in a quiet café.

You’re sitting alone, scrolling through your phone, when she approaches.

"Mind if I sit here?"

You glance up, surprised. Julie is beautiful in an effortless way—long, silky hair, sharp eyes that seem to read you instantly. There’s an air of elegance about her, from the way she carries herself to the designer coat draped over her shoulders.

You hesitate. The café isn’t full; there are plenty of empty tables.

But something in her gaze tells you she’s here for a reason.

"Sure," you say.

She sits across from you, her perfume light but intoxicating.

"I’ve seen you here before," she says casually, stirring her coffee. "You always sit by yourself."

You chuckle. "I like the quiet."

She tilts her head. "Or maybe you just don’t like people?"

You blink, caught off guard. Most girls would be shy or polite, but Julie? She’s bold. Direct.

You smirk. "Maybe a little of both."

She laughs, and just like that, a conversation begins.

It’s easy with her. Too easy

She’s different from Yeji, from Giselle. She doesn’t play games, doesn’t test you. She listens. Really listens.

And for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel like you have to prove yourself.

With Julie, you can just be.

Dating Julie feels like a dream.

She’s rich—not just well-off, but the kind of wealthy that makes life effortless. Expensive dinners, surprise gifts, spontaneous weekend getaways—she showers you with things you never thought you’d have.

At first, it feels strange.

"I don’t need all this," you tell her one day when she buys you an expensive watch.

She just smiles, pressing it into your palm. "I know. That’s why I like spoiling you."

And you believe her.

Because Julie isn’t just rich—she’s caring. Understanding. She never gets jealous when you hang out with friends, never accuses you of not loving her enough.

She trusts you.

She makes you feel safe.

And after everything you’ve been through, that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

So, for the first time in forever, you let your guard down.

You let yourself love again.

And that’s when everything falls apart.

It starts with whispers.

Little things you hear in passing.

"Julie’s always hanging out with that guy."

"Did you see her at the bar last night? She was all over him."

You brush it off. Gossip means nothing. You trust her.

But then, the doubts creep in.

She cancels dates last minute.

She starts texting less, calling less.

And then, one night, you see it with your own eyes.

Julie, standing too close to another guy. Laughing. Letting him touch her waist. Acting like you don’t exist.

Your heart clenches, but you tell yourself to stay calm.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe there’s an explanation.

So you wait until you’re alone with her.

And you ask.

"Who was he?"

She raises an eyebrow, sipping her wine. "Who?"

"At the bar. The guy you were with."

She sighs, setting her glass down. "Just a friend."

"A friend who touches your waist?"

Her expression hardens. "Are you seriously jealous right now?"

You hesitate. "Julie, I just—"

"God, I can’t believe this," she mutters, standing up. "You’re just like every other guy. So insecure."

Your stomach twists. "I’m not—"

"Yes, you are." Her voice is sharp, cold. "I give you everything, and this is how you repay me? By accusing me?"

You feel like you’ve been punched.

"Julie," you whisper. "I just wanted the truth."

She scoffs, grabbing her coat. "The truth? Fine. Maybe I like the attention. Maybe I like feeling wanted. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you."

Her words hit harder than they should.

Because deep down, you know—love shouldn’t feel like this.

You take a shaky breath. "I can’t do this."

She stares at you. "What?"

"I can’t be with someone who makes me feel like I’m not enough."

For a moment, something flickers in her eyes. A flash of regret, maybe.

But it vanishes just as quickly.

She exhales, shaking her head. "Fine. Do whatever you want."

And just like that, she walks away.

No tears. No apologies.

Just… nothing.

Like you never meant anything at all.

You tell yourself you won’t cry.

But that night, as you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything crashes down on you.

Yeji. Giselle. Julie.

Three girls. Three heartbreaks.

You’ve given love everything you had. And every time, it’s been thrown back in your face.

So, you make a decision.

You’re done.

Done chasing love. Done trusting. Done believing in fairy tales.

From now on, you’ll be alone.

Because at least then, you won’t get hurt.

But then, you meet Yuna.

And suddenly, your heart isn’t so sure anymore.

You don’t believe in love anymore.

Not after Yeji, who shattered your trust.

Not after Giselle, who suffocated you with her possessiveness.

Not after Julie, who made you feel like you were nothing.

You’re tired. You’re exhausted. And most of all, you’re done.

You don’t chase love. You don’t wait for it.

Because you know, in the end, it always leaves you broken.

But then, you meet her.

And for the first time in a long while, something inside you stirs.

Something terrifying.

Something hopeful.

It happens on a rainy afternoon.

You’re in a bookstore, flipping through pages of a novel you don’t plan on buying. The rain outside taps against the windows, a soft rhythm that matches the quietness of the shop.

You like it here. It’s peaceful. A place where no one knows you.

Or so you think.

"You like that author?"

A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

You glance up.

And that’s when you see her.

She stands a few feet away, holding a book against her chest. She’s dressed simply—sweater, jeans, sneakers—but there’s something effortlessly beautiful about her.

Her eyes, warm and curious, meet yours.

For a second, you forget how to breathe.

You clear your throat. "Uh… yeah. I guess."

She smiles. "You don’t sound so sure."

You chuckle, scratching the back of your neck. "I’ve never read their books before. Just browsing."

She nods, stepping closer. "It’s a good one. Kind of sad, though."

You raise an eyebrow. "You like sad books?"

She tilts her head. "I think sad stories are more honest."

You don’t know why, but that answer lingers in your mind.

She turns the book in her hands, then looks at you again.

"I’m Yuna, by the way."

You hesitate.

But then, for the first time in months, you say it.

You tell her your name.

And just like that, something begins.

Yuna is different.

She doesn’t demand your attention. She doesn’t try to change you.

She simply exists in your life, slowly weaving herself into the empty spaces you never realized were there.

You start seeing her more often—at the bookstore, at the café nearby, in the quiet corners of the world where you feel most at ease.

She never pushes. Never asks too many questions.

But she listens.

And somehow, that’s enough.

One evening, as you walk together under the glow of streetlights, she asks, "Have you ever been in love?"

You stiffen. The memories of Yeji, Giselle, Julie—all of them flood back at once.

You exhale. "I thought I was."

She doesn’t say anything right away. She just walks beside you, her presence steady, unshaken.

Then, after a moment, she murmurs, "It must’ve hurt a lot."

You stop in your tracks.

Because no one—not Yeji, not Giselle, not Julie—ever acknowledged your pain like that.

Your chest tightens. "Yeah," you admit quietly. "It did."

Yuna doesn’t pry. She doesn’t ask for details.

She simply reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours in the most delicate way.

You don’t pull away.

And maybe—just maybe—you start to wonder.

Could love be something else?

Could love, for once, not destroy you?

But love has never been kind to you.

And just when you think you’re ready to move on, the past comes knocking.

Because one day, you receive a message.

From Yeji.

From Giselle.

From Julie.

They miss you.

And suddenly, everything you’ve tried to bury comes rushing back.

Ghosts of the Past

You think you’ve finally moved on.

Yuna is here. She’s warm, kind, and unlike anyone you’ve ever been with.

She doesn’t lie to you like Yeji.

She doesn’t hurt you like Giselle.

She doesn’t betray you like Julie.

With Yuna, love feels different. Safer. Real.

But love has never been kind to you.

And the past refuses to stay buried.

It starts with a message.

"I miss you."

You stare at the screen, your heart tightening.

Yeji’s name glows on your phone, the same name that once made your chest ache with love.

Now, all it brings is pain.

You turn off your phone. You don’t respond.

But the past isn’t done with you yet.

Because the next day, Giselle calls.

You let it ring. You don’t pick up.

Then, Julie sends a message.

"Hey. Can we talk?"

You delete it without reading the rest.

But no matter how much you ignore them, they don’t stop.

The texts become more frequent.

The calls become more desperate.

And slowly, they start creeping back into your life.

At first, you think it’s just them trying to soothe their own regrets.

But then, they start interfering.

And that’s when everything starts to fall apart.

The first time it happens, you and Yuna are at a small café, sharing quiet laughter over coffee.

Then, your phone buzzes.

You glance down.

It’s Yeji.

Calling.

Again.

You let out a slow breath, ignoring it.

Yuna notices. "You okay?"

You force a smile. "Yeah. Just spam calls."

But your hands feel cold.

Because it’s not just one call.

It’s three.

One after another.

And the moment you step out of the café, Yeji’s voice fills the air.

"You’re ignoring me."

You freeze.

She’s here.

Standing across the street, arms crossed, staring at you like she has the right to be angry.

You don’t know what to say.

"You think you can just block me out?" she continues, stepping closer. "After everything we had?"

Yuna glances between you both, her brows furrowing. "Who is she?"

Yeji smirks, her eyes flickering toward Yuna. "So this is why you’ve been ignoring me."

Your stomach twists. "Yeji, don’t—"

"Did you tell her about us?" Yeji interrupts, her voice dripping with something dangerous. "Did you tell her how much you used to love me?"

You clench your jaw. "We’re done. You need to leave."

Yeji laughs—soft, bitter. "You say that, but I know you still think about me."

She takes another step forward, lowering her voice.

"You used to be mine," she whispers. "And you will be again."

Then, she turns and walks away.

Leaving you standing there, heart pounding.

Yuna touches your arm. "What was that about?"

You force yourself to breathe. "Nothing."

But it’s not nothing.

Because Yeji isn’t the only one who won’t let go.

And soon, things get worse.

It’s Giselle next.

She doesn’t just send messages.

She shows up.

At your work. At your apartment.

Always finding an excuse to see you, to talk to you.

And every time, she asks the same thing.

"Do you ever think about me?"

You want to say no.

You want to erase every painful memory of her.

But Giselle has always known how to push your buttons.

"You were my everything," she whispers one night, standing in front of your door. "I know I made mistakes. But you… you were different."

You grip the doorframe. "Giselle, go home."

She shakes her head, eyes glistening. "I don’t have a home without you."

You swallow hard.

And that’s when you realize—she doesn’t just want you back.

She wants to ruin you.

And the moment she realizes she can’t, she tries something worse.

She finds Yuna.

She talks to her.

She tells her things—half-truths, twisted stories.

And one day, Yuna asks, "Did she really hurt you that badly?"

Your stomach drops.

Because you know exactly where this is coming from.

You reach for her hand. "Yuna, don’t listen to them."

She bites her lip. "I trust you. But I don’t trust them."

And you know—Giselle won’t stop.

Because if she can’t have you, she’ll make sure no one else does.

But the worst is Julie.

Because Julie doesn’t just want to win.

She wants to make you suffer.

One night, she sends you a message.

"Come see me. Just once."

You don’t reply.

Then another text comes.

"I won’t stop until you do."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

Maybe if you go, she’ll stop. Maybe she’ll finally let go.

So, against your better judgment, you go.

You find her in a high-end bar, swirling a glass of wine in her hand.

She looks up, smiling like she’s already won.

"I knew you’d come," she murmurs.

You sit across from her, exhaling sharply. "What do you want?"

She leans forward, her perfume familiar and suffocating.

"Are you happy?" she asks.

You frown. "What?"

"With her," Julie says smoothly. "With Yuna."

You glare. "Yes."

She tilts her head. "That’s a shame."

Something about her tone makes your skin crawl.

Then, she smirks. "Because I don’t think she’ll be around for long."

A chill runs down your spine. "What did you do?"

Julie sips her wine. "Nothing. Yet."

You push your chair back, standing. "Stay away from her."

Julie just laughs. "You should know by now, baby. I don’t like losing."

You leave without another word.

But dread settles in your stomach.

Because you know this isn’t over.

Not even close.

And the worst part?

You don’t know if Yuna will stay by your side when the storm hits.

Trapped in the Past.

You’ve been trying to move on.

You tell yourself that Yuna is different. That she’s the one good thing in your life. That your past no longer has control over you.

But the past has other plans.

And today, it comes crashing back—harder than ever.

It’s just another day at work.

Your office is quiet, the usual hum of keyboards and murmured conversations filling the space. You’re buried in your work, trying to focus, when you hear it—

Gasps. Whispered voices. A sudden shift in the atmosphere.

You glance up, confused.

And then, you see them.

Yeji.

Giselle.

Julie.

Standing at the entrance of your office, looking like they walked straight out of a dream—or, in your case, a nightmare.

Your heart stops.

They shouldn’t be here. They can’t be here.

But they are.

And they look even more breathtaking than you remember.

Yeji stands tall, her confidence radiating through the room, a small smirk playing on her lips. She wears a fitted blazer over a sleek black dress, her hair pulled back in a way that makes her look both elegant and untouchable.

Giselle, on the other hand, is effortlessly stunning, dressed in a casual yet expensive-looking ensemble—like she just threw something on and still managed to turn heads. She’s scanning the room, her eyes sharp, predatory.

Julie, as expected, looks perfect. A designer outfit, flawless makeup, an aura of quiet dominance. She’s not here to plead. She’s here to claim.

The entire office is watching, mesmerized.

Because how often do three goddesses show up unannounced, asking for the same man?

And then it happens.

"Where’s Y/n?" Yeji asks, loud enough for everyone to hear.

You freeze.

Your coworkers look around, confused. Some exchange glances before one of them hesitantly points in your direction.

And just like that, the three of them turn to you.

And they grin.

Because Yuna isn’t here.

Because this is their chance.

Because they know—deep down, they still have power over you.

And they plan to use it.

Before you can react, they’re walking toward you.

Your heart pounds as they reach your desk, their presence overwhelming.

"Y/n," Yeji purrs, leaning against your desk like she belongs there. "You’ve been ignoring us."

Giselle tilts her head, feigning innocence. "That’s not very nice, you know. We just wanted to see you."

Julie sighs, a soft, disappointed sound. "You really thought we’d just let you go?"

You swallow hard. "You shouldn’t be here."

Yeji raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Why not?"

You glance around. Your coworkers are still watching, whispering amongst themselves.

You grit your teeth. "Because I don’t want to see you."

Giselle laughs. "Liar."

Julie smirks. "If that were true, why do you look so nervous?"

Because they know what they’re doing.

They know exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you uncomfortable.

And worst of all…

They’re winning.

Because a part of you—no matter how small—remembers.

Remembers Yeji’s strength. The way she used to make you feel safe, like nothing in the world could touch you.

Remembers Giselle’s charm. The way she made you feel special, like you were the only one who mattered.

Remembers Julie’s care. The way she spoiled you, made you feel like you were worth something.

And now, they’re standing in front of you, looking more beautiful than ever, acting like they still care.

And Yuna isn’t here.

Yeji leans in, her voice low. "Let’s go somewhere private."

Giselle rests a hand on your shoulder, her nails lightly scraping your skin. "Just for a little bit."

Julie exhales softly, her perfume intoxicating. "Come on, Y/n. Don’t make us beg."

Your hands tighten into fists.

Because this is exactly how it starts.

How you get pulled back in.

How you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, they’ve changed.

But you know better now.

You have to know better.

You step back. "No."

Yeji’s eyes darken. "Excuse me?"

You exhale sharply. "I said no."

Giselle blinks, her smile faltering. "You’re joking, right?"

Julie’s expression turns cold. "You’re really going to push us away like this?"

You nod. "I’ve moved on."

Yeji scoffs. "With that girl? Yuna?"

You clench your jaw. "Yes."

There’s a long pause.

And then, Giselle laughs.

A slow, mocking laugh.

"Oh, Y/n," she murmurs. "You really think she’s better than us?"

Julie tilts her head. "You think she can love you like we did?"

Yeji crosses her arms. "Do you really believe she’ll stay?"

Something in their words sends a chill down your spine.

Because you know what they’re implying.

Yuna doesn’t play games like they do.

Yuna isn’t manipulative.

Yuna isn’t them.

And that’s exactly why they want to destroy her.

Before you can respond, Yeji steps closer, her voice a whisper.

"If you’re not ours," she murmurs, "then you’re not hers either."

Your blood runs cold.

Because now, this isn’t just about you.

It’s about Yuna.

And you know—this war isn’t over.

It’s only just beginning.

The fluorescent lights of the office buzzed softly, a faint hum that matched the rhythm of my typing. My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall—5:47 PM. Just a little longer, and I could head home. Home, where Yuna would be waiting. The thought of her brought a small smile to my lips. Yuna, unlike the others, was different. She was kind, patient, and she listened. She didn’t play games, didn’t twist words, didn’t leave me second-guessing every interaction. She was… healing.

But that healing was fragile. Like a wound that had just begun to scab over, it could be ripped open with the slightest touch. And the last people I wanted touching it were them.

The soft ding of the elevator down the hall made my fingers pause mid-sentence. I glanced up, my heart skipping a beat as three familiar figures stepped out. Yeji, Giselle, and Julie.

Their heels clicked against the polished floor, a synchronized rhythm that felt like a drumroll before disaster. They were dressed to kill—Yeji in a form-fitting red blazer, Giselle in a sleek black dress, and Julie in a skirt that was far too short for the office setting. Each of them wore a smirk, their eyes locking onto me like predators circling prey.

“Well, well, look who’s still working late,” Yeji purred, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “What are you three doing here?”

“Can’t we visit an old friend?” Giselle chimed in, her lips curving into a sly smile. She leaned against my desk, her perfume—a mix of vanilla and something far too intoxicating—washing over me.

“Friend?” I muttered, my voice low. “Is that what we are now?”

Julie chuckled, the sound grating against my ears. “Come on, don’t be like that. We missed you.”

Missed me. The words hit like a punch to the gut. Not because they were true—I knew better than to believe that—but because they were a reminder of all the times I’d fallen for their lies. All the times I’d let them hurt me, let them twist me into something I barely recognized.

“You don’t get to just show up here,” I said, my voice firmer now. “Not after everything.”

Yeji tilted her head, her smirk never wavering. “Everything? Oh, sweetheart, you act like we ruined you. If anything, we made you stronger.”

“Stronger?” I echoed, my voice rising. “You manipulated me. Toyed with me. Made me feel like I was nothing. That’s not strength. That’s just… cruelty.”

Giselle clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “You always were so dramatic.”

“Seriously,” Julie added, her tone dripping with mockery. “We were just having fun. If you couldn’t handle it, that’s on you.”

My hands balled into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. Fun. That’s what they called it. Playing with my emotions, stringing me along, making me feel like I was losing my mind. Fun.

“Get out,” I said through gritted teeth.

Yeji’s smirk widened, and she stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor. “Make us.”

The air between us grew thick, heavy with tension. My chest tightened, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I could smell her perfume, a mix of roses and something darker, something that made my head spin.

“You’re not the same without us, you know,” Giselle murmured, her voice soft, almost… gentle. “You’re boring. Safe. Is that what she wants? Someone safe?”

Julie laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. “Please. He was never boring with us.”

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that was settling over my thoughts. “You don’t get to do this. Not anymore.”

“Do what?” Yeji asked, her voice a low purr. “Remind you of what you’re missing?”

She was close now, so close I could feel the heat radiating off her body. Her hand reached up, her fingers brushing against my cheek. I flinched, but I didn’t pull away. Why didn’t I pull away?

“You remember, don’t you?” she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. “The way it felt when we were together.”

My heart raced, my mind a jumble of conflicting emotions. Yes, I remember. I remembered the highs, the moments of bliss that made everything else fade away. But I also remembered the lows, the crushing weight of their words, the way they tore me apart piece by piece.

“We could have that again,” Giselle said, her voice a sultry whisper. “All of us. Just like old times.”

Julie stepped forward, her hand resting on my chest. “You know you want it.”

I did. God, I did. But I also wanted to be free, to move on, to finally be happy. And yet… here they were, pulling me back into their orbit, their gravity impossible to resist.

“Just one more night,” Yeji murmured, her lips brushing against my neck. “One more chance to make it right.”

I closed my eyes, my body trembling. One more night. It would be so easy to give in, to let myself fall back into their arms, their beds. But at what cost?

“I…” I started, my voice trembling. “I can’t.”

Yeji pulled back, her eyes narrowing. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

“It’s not the same,” I said, my voice firmer now. “I’m not the same.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Giselle laughed, the sound cold and dismissive. “You’re right. You’re not the same. You’re worse.”

Julie smirked, her hand trailing down my chest. “But maybe we can fix that.”

I shoved her hand away, my patience snapping. “I’m not something you can fix. I’m not a project, or a game, or… or…”

“A toy?” Yeji finished, her smirk returning. “Because that’s exactly what you were. And you loved it.”

“I didn’t,” I snapped, my voice rising. “I hated it. I hated you.”

“Liar,” Giselle said, her voice sharp. “You loved every second of it.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I loved the idea of you. The fantasy. But the reality… the reality was hell.”

Yeji stepped back, her smirk fading. For a moment, she looked almost… hurt. “You’re really going to throw it all away? Everything we had?”

“We didn’t have anything,” I said, my voice steady now. “It was all in my head. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

There was a long pause, the air heavy with unspoken words. Then Julie sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Be a bore. But don’t come crawling back when you realize you’re not cut out for… normal.”

They turned, their heels clicking against the floor as they walked away. I watched them go, my heart pounding in my chest. It wasn’t until the elevator doors closed behind them that I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

But even as the tension left my body, the ache in my chest remained. Just one more night. The words echoed in my mind, taunting me. Because as much as I hated to admit it, part of me still wanted them. Still needed them.

And that scared me more than anything.

The office was quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound as I tried to focus on the report in front of me. But my mind kept drifting back to the encounter earlier. Yeji, Giselle, Julie—their faces, their words, the way they’d looked at me like I was still theirs. I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. They’re gone. They’re not a part of your life anymore.

But just as I was about to dive back into work, my phone buzzed. A text from Yeji: “Come outside. We’re waiting.”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. No. Not again. I ignored it, setting the phone face down on the desk. But then it buzzed again. And again. And again. Finally, I picked it up, my fingers trembling slightly as I read the next message: “Don’t make us come back up there. You know how much we love a scene.”

I cursed under my breath, dragging a hand over my face. Why can’t they just leave me alone? But deep down, I knew they wouldn’t. Not until they got what they wanted.

Reluctantly, I grabbed my coat and headed for the elevator. The ride down felt like an eternity, my stomach twisting into knots. When the doors slid open, I saw them—Yeji leaning casually against the wall, Giselle scrolling through her phone, Julie with her arms crossed, a smirk on her lips.

“There he is,” Yeji purred, pushing off the wall and walking toward me. “We were starting to think you’d forgotten about us.”

“I haven’t,” I said, my voice firm. “But I’m not doing this. Not again.”

Julie laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. “Oh, come on. You’re not fooling anyone. We know you still want us.” She stepped closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You always have.”

“I’ve moved on,” I said, though the words felt hollow even as I said them. “I’m with Yuna now.”

“Yuna,” Giselle scoffed, finally looking up from her phone. “She’s sweet, yeah, but let’s be real—she’s not us.”

“She’s better than you,” I shot back, my frustration boiling over. “She actually cares about me. She respects me.”

Yeji tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Respect is overrated. What you need is someone who knows how to make you feel alive. And that’s us.”

Before I could respond, Julie grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “Enough talking. Let’s go.”

I tried to pull away, but they were already surrounding me, their presence overwhelming. They led me to a car parked just outside the building, and before I knew it, I was in the backseat, the three of them closing in around me.

The drive to their apartment was a blur, my mind racing as I tried to figure out how to get out of this. But every time I thought about making a move, one of them would touch me—a hand on my thigh, fingers brushing against my neck—and I’d feel that familiar pull, that dangerous allure that I’d spent so long trying to escape.

When we arrived, they practically dragged me inside the apartment, the door slamming shut behind us. Yeji was the first to make her move, pressing me against the wall and kissing me hard, her lips demanding and possessive. I wanted to push her away, to tell her to stop, but my body betrayed me, responding to her touch before I could think.

Giselle was next, her hands sliding under my shirt as she undressed me with practiced ease. Julie watched from a distance, a wicked grin on her face as she pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice strained as Yeji moved her lips to my neck.

Julie didn’t answer, instead holding up her phone to show me the screen. She was calling Yuna. Panic surged through me, and I tried to pull away, but Yeji and Giselle held me in place, their hands roaming over my body.

“You wouldn’t,” I said, my voice pleading.

“Oh, I would,” Julie said, her grin widening as the call connected. She put it on speaker, and I heard Yuna’s voice, soft and confused, on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Yuna,” Julie said, her tone sickly sweet. “Just wanted to let you know—your boyfriend’s here with us. And he’s very happy to see us.”

“No,” I said, my voice breaking. “Yuna, it’s not what you think—”

But Yeji cut me off, her lips crashing into mine again as Giselle pulled down my pants. I could hear Yuna on the other end of the line, her voice trembling as she asked, “What’s going on? What are you doing to him?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Julie said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “We’re just giving him what he’s always wanted. What he’s always needed. Isn’t that right, baby?”

I wanted to deny it, to tell Yuna the truth, but the words caught in my throat as Giselle dropped to her knees, taking me into her mouth. I groaned, my body betraying me once again as pleasure surged through me.

Yeji pulled back, her lips curving into a wicked smile as she whispered in my ear, “He’s always wanted us. Not you.”

“Don’t listen to her, Yuna,” I managed to say, my voice strained. “Please—”

But Julie cut me off, holding the phone closer as Giselle worked her magic, driving me closer and closer to the edge. I could hear Yuna’s sobs on the other end of the line, and guilt crashed over me like a wave. But even as I tried to fight it, I knew I was losing.

“You’ll never be enough for him,” Yeji said, her voice cold and cruel. “Not like we are.”

And then, as Giselle brought me to the brink, I heard Yuna hang up, the line going dead. I wanted to scream, to break free, but my body was too far gone, too lost in the sensations they were pulling from me.

Yeji laughed, a low, wicked sound, as she undressed, her eyes locked on mine. “Face it, baby. You’re ours. You always have been.”

And as they took turns with me, their hands and mouths claiming me in ways I could never forget, I knew she was right. No matter how much I tried to convince myself I’d moved on, I was still theirs. And I always would be.

Julie’s phone buzzed again, and she picked it up, her grin widening as she read the message. “Looks like your little Yuna isn’t taking this well,” she said, holding it up for me to see. It was a text from Yuna: “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

My heart sank, but before I could respond, Giselle was on me again, her lips trailing down my chest as Yeji whispered in my ear, “See? We told you. You’re ours.”

And as they took me again, their bodies moving in sync with mine, I knew there was no escaping them. Not now. Not ever.

The room was a blur of sweat, heat, and tangled limbs. Yeji’s nails dug into my shoulders as she rode me, her hips grinding in slow, deliberate circles that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. Her breath was hot against my ear, her voice low and sultry. “You’re ours,” she whispered, her words dripping with possessiveness. “You always have been. You always will be.”

Giselle’s laughter rang out as she kissed me, her lips soft but demanding. Her hands roamed my chest, tracing lines of fire across my skin. She pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, her gaze intense. “You thought you could escape us?” she taunted, her voice teasing. “You’re too weak, too addicted to the way we make you feel. Admit it... you’ve missed this.”

I wanted to deny it, to push them away and reclaim some shred of dignity, but my body betrayed me. My hips moved of their own accord, thrusting deeper into Yeji as she moaned in approval. My hands reached for Giselle, pulling her closer, my fingers tangling in her hair as our lips crashed together. And then there was Julie, her tongue tracing a wet path down my neck, her hands gripping my thighs as she positioned herself to take her turn.

“You’re pathetic,” Julie purred, her voice a mix of cruelty and seduction. “But we love you anyway. Isn’t that enough?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead straddling me and sinking down onto me with a gasp. Her movements were frenzied, desperate, as if she couldn’t get enough. I couldn’t help but respond, my hands gripping her hips as I thrust up to meet her.

The room filled with the sound of their moans, their laughter, their whispers. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and I felt myself slipping further and further into their web. “You’re ours,” Yeji repeated, her voice a sultry chant. “Say it. Say you’re ours.”

I tried to resist, to hold onto some fragment of myself, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice choked with need. “I’m yours.”

The trio exchanged triumphant smiles, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good boy,” Giselle cooed, her fingers trailing down my chest. “Now let’s remind you why you belong to us.”

They took turns, their bodies moving over mine in a rhythm that felt both familiar and new. Yeji’s lips claimed mine, her kisses deep and hungry, while Giselle’s hands explored every inch of me, igniting fires wherever she touched. Julie’s voice whispered in my ear, her words a mix of encouragement and command, urging me to give in completely.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing in the room. My mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, desire and despair. I wanted to hate them, to push them away and reclaim my life, but my body craved them in a way I couldn’t deny.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered again, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

As if to emphasize her words, she leaned down, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. Giselle’s hands tightened on my hips, guiding my movements as she took her turn, her body moving in perfect sync with mine. Julie’s teeth grazed my neck, her breath hot against my skin as she moaned in pleasure.

The room seemed to spin, the boundaries between us blurring as we became a tangled mess of limbs and desires. I couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the others began. It was as if we were one, connected by something deeper than just physical need.

“You’re ours,” Giselle whispered, her voice a sultry purr. “And you always will be.”

My hands roamed their bodies, my fingers memorizing every curve, every detail. I couldn’t stop myself, couldn’t resist the pull they had on me. It was as if they had cast a spell, one that I was powerless to break.

“You’re ours,” Julie repeated, her voice a tantalizing whisper. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice trembling with need. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in them, their movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. Yeji’s nails dug into my skin, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of this moment. Giselle’s hips moved with a furious pace, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Julie’s lips claimed mine, her kiss fierce and demanding.

The pleasure built, a crescendo that threatened to consume me. I could feel myself teetering on the edge, my body trembling with the effort to hold on. And then, with a shuddering gasp, I let go, surrendering completely to the sensations that crashed over me.

They didn’t let up, didn’t give me a moment to catch my breath. Instead, they continued, their bodies moving over mine in a relentless rhythm that left me gasping for air. It was as if they were determined to claim every part of me, to leave no doubt in my mind that I belonged to them.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

The words echoed in my mind, a mantra that I couldn’t escape. I wanted to believe them, to believe that this was where I belonged, but a small part of me still fought, still clung to the hope of something more.

But as their bodies moved over mine, their hands and mouths claiming me in ways I could never forget, that hope began to fade, replaced by the certainty that I would never escape them. Not now. Not ever.

“You’re ours,” Giselle whispered, her voice a sultry purr. “And you always will be.”

The room was a blur of heat and desire, the boundaries between us blurring as we became one. I couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the others began. It was as if we were connected by something deeper than just physical need.

“You’re ours,” Julie whispered, her voice a tantalizing whisper. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped, my voice trembling with need. “I’m yours.”

The words seemed to ignite something in them, their movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. Yeji’s nails dug into my skin, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of this moment. Giselle’s hips moved with a furious pace, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Julie’s lips claimed mine, her kiss fierce and demanding.

The pleasure built again, a crescendo that threatened to consume me. I could feel myself teetering on the edge, my body trembling with the effort to hold on. And then, with a shuddering gasp, I let go, surrendering completely to the sensations that crashed over me.

They didn’t let up, didn’t give me a moment to catch my breath. Instead, they continued, their bodies moving over mine in a relentless rhythm that left me gasping for air. It was as if they were determined to claim every part of me, to leave no doubt in my mind that I belonged to them.

“You’re ours,” Yeji whispered, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos. “And we’ll never let you go.”

The words echoed in my mind, a mantra that I couldn’t escape. I wanted to believe them, to believe that this was where I belonged, but a small part of me still fought, still clung to the hope of something more.

But as their bodies moved over mine, their hands and mouths claiming me in ways I could never forget, that hope began to fade, replaced by the certainty that I would never escape them. Not now. Not ever.

[dollarbils]

call me maybe | b.eilish

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your ex situation-ship knows how to manipulate herself back into your life, her motives however are masked by her nonchalant demeanour.

warnings. nonchalant billie, making out, confusing storyline lowk, haven’t started pt2

masterlist

- 2 years ago -

her eyes had been what captured your attention throughout the night. her gaze seemed to linger longer than it should, indicating her interest and therefore sparking curiosity in you. and something you couldn’t deny; she was gorgeous.

“where’s your friend?” her smooth voice pulled you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to your ongoing conversation.

“she ditched like twenty minutes after we got here, i haven’t seen her since.” you put it almost humorously, anticipating a full recap of her night when you’d call her in the morning.

“you’re not worried?” the girl seemed genuinely curious to know, clearly taking interest in the dynamic of your friendship, in the events of the night, in you.

“i was, the first time. i’ve gotten used to it. she’ll get home in one piece and rave about her night tomorrow morning.” she smiled at the fact you could foresee the outcome of your friend’s disappearance in the club, almost as if it were a habit.

“it’s kinda shitty that she ditched you, not a very good wingwoman. though i doubt you find it hard.” she subtly hinted at real reason behind her interest. it was easy to tell with her, there was no doubt in your mind that she’d be into girls. but you wondered if she’d assumed the same about you.

“what? like getting girls?” you’d given her the confirmation, to eliminate any uncertainty. and for a split second, you could swear you saw a small smile creep onto her lips.

“girls huh?” she put it as if she was somewhat surprised.

“what?” you questioned the look on her face.

“i just didn’t think id get that lucky.” she smirked and you felt your insides flutter.

“what do you mean?” you asked her to clarify, really just wanting her to put it into words.

“i know i just met you,” she paused for a second, pulling out her phone, “but here’s my number.” she tapped her phone against yours to transfer your contact, and you turned it on so that you could accept it.

billie eilish, that was her name.

- present -

it was her eyes that had been the main point of recognition. they were unmistakable, cold yet sultry, a perfect combination for a perfect disaster. you’d known it all too well.

“billie.” her tight lips turned upwards slightly, pleased with your greeting. after all, it had only been a few months since you’d broken things off with her. and somehow, you ended up missing her.

“babe, this is a surprise.” she never could remain serious, and you’d been grateful in the moment as it eased the awkwardness you’d been anticipating.

“yeah, i didn’t expect to see you here.” you were awfully bad at small talk, and she chuckled, likely recognising this.

“you make it sound like something bad?” she pouted dramatically and you couldn’t help smiling, blushing even.

“no, no it’s a good thing. it’s good to see you.” she bit her lip, as if pondering on a comical response.

“oh yeah? how good?” she smirked and your breath hitched.

“stop it.” you looked away from her but she reached for your face and pulled your chin up, to meet her eyes again. those fucking eyes.

“stop what?” she was grinning, a smile so wicked it made your insides burn.

“we tried, we don’t work.” your rational thoughts finally made an appearance with your confrontation.

“that’s where you’re so wrong.” her face was dangerously close to yours. her lips almost brushing yours.

“billie.” you tried to interrupt her actions, you were obviously heading in a direction you’d find difficult to navigate out of.

“shh.” she pressed her finger up to your lips, her ring resting against the skin of your chin before it disappeared, and her lips were on yours. her hips pressing against yours as the cool metal of her rings returned, resting on your neck this time.

“bil-” she didn’t let you pull away, wouldn’t let you speak. and when her hands traveled down to your ass, and her tongue met your own, you snapped back into reality.

“billie.” you were breathing heavily.

“what?” you were shaking your head, backing away from her.

“i can’t do this again.” her brows let their furrowed state and she moved to place her hands back on your figure, gently.

“sure you can. we can do it right this time.” her words were so promising you almost fell for them. but you didn’t reply, just escaping her grasp and turning away.

“where do you think you’re going, baby?” the term of endearment stung, an unpleasant twinge in your heart you couldn’t quite place.

“call me.” her smirk, dripping with confidence, aggravated you in a way no one else could. she’d leave you thinking about her for days to come, and she knew it. you could still feel her on your lips.

“maybe.” her eyebrows raised at your response, but you didn’t stay to hear her, no doubt, witty response.

taglist: @adinda-eilish @ijustlovemaths @sweetcherriexs @jaxon-nathaniel-drake @mybluebossanova @diceroll65 @tothediner @st0nerlesb0 @bilssturns @london-uhmye @bxllxebxtch @tan1shere @babybornbluenow @greenbttrflyy @asterisk-eyes

[avifaunaa]

i tasted ash and knew [ it was you ] [ r.v. ]

Authors Note: My first Rio fic! Make sure to check the content warnings before reading further in case the content inside does not suit your taste! Otherwise please enjoy!

Some quick fun facts that literally none of you asked for but I added a lot of plot to a darksmutfic:

• I’m a former history major so some of this is based off of knowledge of what I know about time periods I studied and found special interest in

• Johnnie Ray was a popular artist in the fifties so I slipped him in for story ambience

• Only by 1955 did Americans, in half of their homes, have television sets. Up until then it was considered a bit of luxury with limited channels and times you could watch. You’d get static otherwise. Most homes had radios as their everyday media consumption.

• John Daly and the News was an actual television show broadcasted between 1953 — 1960 and is now what we know today as ABC World News Tonight

• Reader hinting that she and Rio shouldn’t talk so openly against how things are handled after the war is me referencing how the Second Red Scare [ Mcarthyism ] began to take an effect on the United States and how people ran their lives. Some actors, for example, would get blacklisted for the rest of their lives if they were accused of communism / socialism and found guilty even with denied claims from said actor.

Masterlist

PART TWO — in progress

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Fem!reader

Summary: Rio Vidal broke the rules of her own nature only two times in her long existence — once when she allowed her and Agatha’s son to live long enough to love his mother and the second and last by finding you and taking a life for every year she allowed you to live. Centuries later this still held true . . . Only now Agatha was dead and she was angry. It was time you stop running from her.

Content Warnings: Dark — be warned in advance and take care of yourselves! This has flashbacks that occurs between 1943-1953 but details about World War II itself are very vague. Some mild period-typical gender norms in terms of roles and clothing during flashbacks. Mentions of abuse / abusive marriages, angst, death, manipulation, threats of violence, stalking, choking, misuse of magic ( Rio ), housewife R ( and encouraged by Rio 😭 ), kidnapping, somnophilia, non-con, cunnilngus ( r!receiving ), face grinding ( Rio!receiving )

Word Count: TBA

Rio rarely found it in her to feel anything other than passive nonchalance when she came for them. A hand held out expectantly, a knowing expression that made no room for desperate pleas, and she took another soul away from this plane she stalked for her souls.

Children were the worst to come for and made that choice even more difficult for Rio. Death did not care who it struck or why — she was only able to ensure the balance of the universe stayed intact by orders greater than her.

She loved Agatha and Nicholas though . . . Enough that she stayed away from her lover for the amount of time she had promised their son could adventure the Earth as short as it may be.

She loved Agatha enough to take him while she slept with him curled tight in her arms where he was the absolute safest he could be. Nicholas was all Agatha with his curly hair and serious eyes, but Rio liked to believe there was part of her in him as she took his hand and took him to her home.

Agatha evaded her incredibly well after Nicky’s death, doing her best to leave no traces and not stay in one place for too long.

Rio decided that Agatha wouldn’t be able to forgive her — if not forever then at least for now. So she stopped trying and allowed Agatha to grieve and slowly move on in her own impossible way.

Rio met you in 1945 during a high stress time for the world. It was wonderfully busy in that she was everywhere more than usual. A war just ended and wars made Rio’s life both miserable and fulfilled with the amount of workload she took on.

You were an unfortunate case and barely hanging onto your single thread of life. She could see it glowing from your chest, flickering in and out . . . As if it would be snuffed at any second should the wind blow right.

Her instincts told her it was your time but everything about the surroundings were telling her that nobody else agreed.

But why? She’s seen it millions of times in different cultures and centuries. A life had a time limit and she knew when that time ended even if they didn’t — or didn’t agree with it.

Rio’s entire instinct told her to take this soul and move onto the next so she could keep the balance moving and not disrupt the will of the universe that held them all together.

But she didn’t. She waited unseen in a corner and watched you as nurses came in to check on you, refilling your untouched water pitcher and cleaning you up. You still barely hung on, her eyes keeping locked onto the thrumming flow of life that beckoned her.

She finally stepped forward to get a closer look at you, tilting her chin down through her hood and taking note of every small detail that put you in her ledger for collection.

You were a battered woman more than anything, and she let her fingers drift over you to get a feel of your energy.

Her hand ripped back to her side at what she felt within you. You remained nearly lifeless and unconscious in the bed but your soul was very, very angry. It was a black pool of oily rage and despair that Rio was usually able to cleanse once she took them but . . .

She took your lifeline in her palm, feeling the warmth seep into her cold skin as it stuttered more as she grasped it.

She pressed a thumb into it as though it were something physical and willed a demand — live. I shall not take you today.

For a moment she wasn’t sure how her magic would treat your soul once they interacted. But more stuttering was soon filtered out like a street lamp, giving way to a soft and steady glow.

Rio smiled and released your lifeline, allowing it to lazily float back toward you where it retook its place reaching for her out of your chest.

Rio might be Death and she may hesitate to break rules on most days — but you were the exception she was going to see through and hope she didn’t regret later.

1943-1952

Rio left you soon after. She had to take a soul in your place and had others that needed her attention besides.

But she frequently returned to you with a pull she could not ignore. Your recovery was slow and painful, and she watched invisibly as you cried to your mother and father about your husband — the man you claimed was the one who caused your near death.

It filled her with something raw and visceral when she followed you back home to him. A drunk man who had no boundaries and no respect for the life he was given — nor yours.

She decided to wait a couple of years for the world to cool down from the anguish that it was trying to recover from. But she watched as you suffered with him and tried to keep your distance in order to avoid pain.

In 1952 Rio decides to play dress up. She comes to your beautifully decorated home and sickeningly pretty flowered garden in an outfit that women are scolded for daring to try on.

Slacks and a blouse with her hair styled for the time even if it wasn’t in her taste. She was going to play a partial role — but she had a plan and will see it through.

Rio knocked on your door so that there would be no question of a visitor, hands sliding into her pockets not long after as she waited.

She was not kept long.

The door opened and there you were pretty and smiling — even if Rio knew what the depths of your soul actually contained.

“Oh,” you said by greeting, hand going to your chest. “Hello there. Hi.”

“Hello,” Rio greeted back politely. “I moved in a few houses down and have gone about introducing myself to the neighbors. I want to build a community around me.”

You pursed your lips in surprise. “I didn’t know we had a house for sale,” you mused aloud, but waved your hand, “Oh, but who cares? Welcome to Westview.”

“My name is Rio, Rio Vidal,” Death greeted, sliding a hand out for you to take. If you were caught off guard by the invitation, you did not show it. You grasped her hand and shook it and relayed your name back even though she knew it well.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you said, still smiling. You gestured and stepped aside in your entry way, showing Rio the bright yellow walls and decorated room behind you, “Would you like to come in? I’ve been trying a hand at making a cake and I’m unfortunately not doing so good.”

Rio took the invitation and entered your home, laughing breathily at your statement. “A woman who can’t bake? Not a sight I see often.”

You shut the door behind you both and grew shy under the observation. “I was never great at it,” you admit as you started through the entry way and leading her through the living room. It was quiet.

“No husband?” she questioned aloud, noting the empty recliner diagonal to the newest television set that money could buy. Expensive taste for even a well earning home.

“One,” you called back when you reappeared from the entrance to the kitchen. “He works all day at the plant in Eastview. He just got promoted.”

“Eastview,” Rio murmured. “Isn’t that a bit of a drive?”

You smiled weakly. “Sure, but it’s good income. He works hard and keeps us fed. Come, I’ll prepare lemonade.”

Rio allowed herself to be guided into the kitchen that smelled like a bakery. Black and white checkered floors, green cabinets and brand new red chairs and a table set. If not good at baking you at least had good style.

You were pulling out a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and she wandered close to you. “It smells good.”

You glanced up at her from your pouring, “You came right as I was putting my third attempt in the oven. Hopefully it doesn’t burn this time. I admittedly bought store-made icing.”

Rio grinned, “My lips are sealed.”

You chuckled as you pushed her a glass of lemonade and took your own in two hands, clutching it close. “So . . . You have no husband of your own?”

Rio leaned against the mint-colored counter and twirled her glass. “Afraid not. Lost him to the war in ‘43.”

You frowned as an expression of sympathy started to cross your features, “Two years before that deadly disaster ended, too. I’m truly sorry he didn’t make it home.”

Trap set and bait laying with prey lured, Rio continued with a faux tremble in her hands, “They don’t tell you what to prepare for if they don’t come home. Don’t give you much in return for the price they pay for the country. How fair is that?”

Your lips thinned slightly. “No, I’d rather say the bets we place are never worth it.” A pause, full of hesitance. “But we shouldn’t talk so queerly about such things.”

Rio curled her fingers inward toward herself despite her grip on her glass. She was probing for information mostly — where she could poke holes and find weakness. The end of the war left a fear of things they didn’t understand . . . And politics became a large aspect of society as soon as the world began picking itself back up.

Rio reveled in the chaos and enjoyed — with no shame to be found — watching humans try and control their societies in endless cycles of vitriol and greed masked by different ideologies they claimed were better than the last.

It kept her in a job.

“Of course,” she finally said with a hint of emotion. “My apologies. I’m afraid my heart has been hardened by experience.”

You softened slightly, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Of course. I can’t imagine the suffering you’ve endured — I just — I’m sure the country is thankful.”

Rio bit down a response that would get a rise out of you. She wanted to see that anger she felt in your soul when she initially came for you that day.

She couldn’t feel it just from standing here and pretending to be a sad widower of a war. It was difficult to get a feel on you in general right now — unless she pushed her magic and coerced them out of you.

A brief quiet fell over the two that mostly consisted of sipping lemonades and listening to Johnnie Raye’s alluring voice sing through the radio that was situated near the entryway of the kitchen on the counter.

“So,” Rio drew out and set down her glass. Hardly touched — just enough to make you believe she dare partake in such things, “Little ones?”

You smiled again but a sad gleam overtook the look this time. “No, no children.”

You didn’t go into detail and Rio decided that this topic was one she could let go until later either by finding out through her own means or getting to know you in this fashion.

“Well it looks like we could both use a friend at least,” the brunette said as her gaze turned to stare out the window for a brief moment. “The world can be entirely too lonely for women these days and I’m inclined to find ways to fight it.”

You perked up slightly at her veiled offer and bit your lip. “I’d love to be your friend.”

2024

Your neck was aching in a way that it hasn’t for a very long time. A subtle throb just below your hairline that felt deep inside of your muscles.

You told yourself it was just an ache — the magic she had worked on you was disintegrated and nothing more than a reminder of a past long dead.

But the ache did not relent when you woke up the next morning, or the next after that.

You began to wonder if the witch you paid to remove all the magic in your body was a fraud a week after the ache started.

You simply ignored it and went about your daily life even as it throbbed dully beneath your skin like a timer set to go off at any given point.

It started giving you headaches and then the nausea set in after that.

Pointedly, you continued to do absolutely nothing for it. Anxiety was shoved into a small lockbox and the key was dropped into the dark depths of your brain to be forgotten as you sealed the blinds for the night and went about prepping dinner.

Onions splayed out on a cutting board next to other ingredients ready to be prepped. A dinner for one but a pleasant distraction to keep your hands busy. You propped your phone up against the wall to listen to a podcast while you began peeling the onions.

Flowers for your parents graves and a visit to your nieces’ retirement home, you reminded yourself through the busy chatter of the podcast and stripping of the outer layer of the onion.

A shattered vase?

You stopped peeling and stopped breathing. You listened, drowning out the sound of your phone and focusing on background noise that may come next.

You quietly set down the onion and curl your fingers around the hilt of the knife you had set aside. You tucked it close to your side as you stepped silently to the entry way of your kitchen to look out into your living room.

Indeed your vase was shattered off of the display case where it had previously been sitting. An antique but not one you were invested in, really. The carpet was wet from the water that kept the flowers fed and the flowers themselves were scattered in the shards.

As you approached the mess and kneeled down to set about starting to clean it up, you tossed the knife to the side for now and got the shards out of the way first.

You ignored the alarms in your head. The warning signs that were so large and so close that they were nearly impossible to ignore.

You released a shaky breath and threw away the shards in the kitchen. You gathered yourself momentarily and repeated your mantra, “She isn’t coming back, you’ve gotten away,” enough to almost believe it.

You return to the living room to take care of the ruined flowers and clean up any leftover petals and leaves.

Even when you gathered the crumbled flowers and found a perfectly intact green rose aligned in the middle of them.

The thorn cut your thumb open and left a wound that bleed for two days.

Five more days continued on after that slower than the thick molasses that your grandmother used to make when you would visit her home as a child.

You visit your parents in Westview once you’re sure activity of magic has disappeared. You knew the Scarlet Witch had contained the once lovely and beautiful town and used it to create something for herself she was believed she had the right to.

It’s been months — hell a year even. The news claimed that Maximoff had disappeared without a trace and left no one worse for wear after defeating an unknown threat.

The graveyard was not maintained in the hostage situation. Overgrown and some older stones beginning to degrade from age and lack of care, dead and wilted flowers not cleared or replaced with new ones by thoughtful visitors.

You trudged through it all and for once you could not ignore the agony in your neck. It was allowing the pain of the physical or the pain of your heart — and you didn’t think you had it in you to feel anything but the inclosed walls you built for yourself.

You kneel onto your knees once you reach the matching headstones. Moss was starting to grow on the edges and inside the grooves — but you let it stay. You started pulling out the decayed flowers from the in-ground flower holder, tossing them aside and dusting off the area.

“Still so attached to the past,” a husky voice mused in no one direction. Your head jerked up and you began to look around, palm resting on your father’s headstone for support. A cheerless — but darkly amused — laugh. “You tend to it like a garden or a herd of sheep. Maintaining its needs and working on it like it’s keeping you afloat.”

You used your free hand to rub your forehead. You couldn’t see anything — the voice was clear as day and that is what had you spinning.

“Angel with stone wings, angel with no reach,” the sultry lilt continued. Your eyes locked onto the damp statue of an angel feet away, eyes echoing endless depths of nothingness.

You forced your eyes back to the graves. Your hands were shaking as you continued to clear them, hands aggressively tugging the weeds from around the stone.

“Oh sure, ignore me. That’s worked out for you just as much as burning your leash off has.”

“This is a figment,” you responded out loud.

Large, aged oak trees swayed angrily around you in turn and howling winds scraped against your skin. You needed to make sure of it — ground yourself before you lost yourself in the delusion.

Your knuckles slammed into hard stone, pressing until they turned white and stung from the impact. Your breathing was heavy and your ribcage felt like it was being grabbed from the top of your spine and pulled backwards.

“You really thought that your little magic trick could defy the sigil of Death, angel?” You could imagine her face. Mocking, smirking with full teeth and eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

She wasn’t here.

And then it felt like you had a rope thrown around your throat so tight that you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. The force of it sent you sailing onto your back, feet kicking, gasps sounding out into empty air.

Your hands flail upward in animalistic instinct, clawing at your neck.

Nothing was there. Nothing was there. You opened your mouth more, to breath, to scream, to —

The pressure left as quickly as it was there. You turned over and dug your fingernails into the damp ground, getting into your knees and breathing in as much air as your lungs would allow.

A billow of green and black took up your line of sight as your vision began to clear. It decreased its length toward you with lazy speed and only stopped when you were inches from the fabric.

The figure crouched and a cold hand took your jaw to tilt your head up. Your stomach became a pit of liquid when you saw exactly who it was above you — and she was no figment.

“Hello, angel. Thank you for walking into my trap. I didn’t want to have to hunt you down.”

1953

You slam on Rio’s front door despite the crudeness of it. It was cold and your tears were freezing over on your cheeks. You were numb and you needed . . . Comfort. Something. Anything.

The door opened almost immediately to your best friend. She had a lazy smile that quickly fell once she saw you.

“Angel,” she offered a soft crow, “what happened? It’s dark out and you should be at home right now."

Your throat bobbed and you manage to cup your mouth before a loud, ugly sob can escape and wake the entire neighborhood. "Oh, God, Rio."

Now her eyes flickered with alarm. Dark swirls of it as she stepped forward and immedately wrapped two arms around your shoulders and tucked you close. "Let’s get you inside. Come on.”

Her voice soothed you as she guided you into her home and you remained unaware of the malice that crossed her features as she glanced outside at the street for any sign of threat before closing the door.

She sat you on her couch in front of her television. She was watching John Daly discussing the news on the black and white set with his stoic professionalism.

“Do you want a glass of water? Ginger ale?” Rio questioned and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You glanced upward at her. Your fingers twisted into your dress and you crossed your ankles, pressing them into the couch as you sat up straight and stiff.

“Yes please, if it’s no trouble,” you murmured.

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was.” You ignored the odd quip, having gotten used to Rio’s strange ways by now. Most of your neighbors wives’ — when you met for the monthly update while husbands drank and played cars — found her to be much to odd for comfort.

You didn’t mind. She wasn’t nosy like the other women were and didn’t have the tendency to berate you about how you iced your cookies or strung your laundry on the line when laundry day came. She took little interest in petty gossip and didn’t prod for details about why no children came to fruition within your marriage.

Perhaps that is what drew you to the long-haired widow while the others felt repelled by her.

Your brain was lost in this forest of thick fog and thoughtless wander so deep that you jumped when a cold glass was brushed against the back of your clenched hands.

Rio said nothing about it; she simply waited until she was satisfied that your water was safely in hand before sitting down in the chair next to the television. She reached over and twisted the dial until it flickered off.

“What happened?” she asked plainly, picking something off of her finely fitted pants. Waisted pants today that ended at her ankles, fitting her loosely. Some days she wore styles that mothers would roll in their graves over — a man’s wear.

Today she decided on a more fashionable approach in women’s attire, it seemed. The pants were dark blue in color with a cream long sleeved shirt tucked in.

You tried to focus on her question, but answering it meant you had to tell her in the first place. In doing that — in doing that you would be left in a situation where you could break down completely.

“Hey.”

She was next to you as if by magic. Her hand rested on your knee lightly. Her hand was cold. Anytime you were together she always seemed to be cold . . .

Your mind started melting into itself again but a finger directed your chin to meet Rio’s intense gaze. It was a gentle gesture, but also a command. One of her eyebrows was raised questioningly.

“Angel,” she says, a low noise in her throat, “I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Your fingers curled as tight as the glass would allow, as tight as your grip could be. “My husband,” you started, a stuttering whisper fading after it. You couldn’t bear to finish.

Her features remained unchanged, but her head tilted. She let her finger brush away from your chin as she moved that hand over yours on the glass.

“What about him?” she asked.

“He’s — the factory owner called, you see. Told me I had to get to the hospital as quickly as I could.”

It was a terrible, bloody mess. They didn’t let you back into the room to see him because of the severity and instead had her wait until the doctor could come and speak with her privately.

You weren’t in tears at all — the nurses had commented. You were being very brave. You must be so scared.

You could only nod at them, smile shakily maybe.

You did cry when they asked you to sit down to tell you that he did not survive their attempt at surgery. It was a machine incident, they said. It broke down during use and your husband was the one on the line during the process.

You sobbed like a stricken wife, now widowed and left by herself. The nurses came to comfort you, offer tissues and take you somewhere quiet.

You weren’t devastated.

You were so relieved.

You felt like you would go home that night and not have to worry about if doing the dishes would be what set him off.

You could make a meal and not sit in a silence that you feared ended in another bruise to cover up for a few weeks.

Your husband was never good at cleaning up his messes. That’s what you were there for. That’s what his lack of complaints at the extra makeup in your grocery bags meant.

“He’s dead,” you choked out loud for the first time. “He had an accident . . . And . . .”

“Hm, I see.” Rio did something else and tucked you close into her side. She started stroking your hair and you took on the comfort even if you weren’t used to it. “It saddens me to see you so upset.”

Over him, she didn’t add. She didn’t need to with her tone.

“It’s just . . . Oh, you may find me very crass if I tell you what’s been heavy on my heart.”

Rio grasped your chin firmly and quickly, forcing you to meet her eyes. Her lips were thinned and she said with a steady, stern tone, “I could never think you crass. We are both outcasts in our own way in this world we’ve been born into. Whatever you tell me will change what I think of you — would you like me to swear it?” She paused. “On your God?”

You pulled back briefly, but her hand went with your tug. She had a tight grasp on your chin and wasn’t letting go, determined to keep your attention.

“My God?” you echoed, visible confusion coating your features.

She didn’t give you a response. Perhaps she felt as though she had been clear enough even if you felt entirely puzzled.

She tapped your cheek with her index finger. “Admit to me your heart’s truths, angel.”

The sick feeling in your stomach — the way you liked how she spoke to you, touched you . . .

Her touch suddenly felt like the hottest flames and you snapped out of the foggy daze. You were too close, she was too near. Everything about this broke the law of nature.

“I’m glad he’s dead.” Your mouth snapped shut and she allowed you to jerk away from her grasp to the other end of the couch. You hadn’t . . .

Why did you say that.

Rio’s lips were painted black today. An unusual color to decide on and very much not within the fashion of today. Your catalogues and magazines always pointed at which colors to lean into and which to avoid. Black lipstick was hard to find and it was often discouraged; it was seen as unappealing and unapproachable.

Rio wore it like she owned it and you hated that you seemed to tingle and grow hot in ways your husband was unable to do.

She tapped her chin with her nails, lips quirking into a small smirk. “Oh, my my. A wife who grieves not for the loss of her dear husband — her protector in life and guardian . . . But perhaps the comfortable lifestyle he provides?”

Your lips trembled. “How dare you,” you whispered, flushing from the neck up from the shame. She was right. She was right and you hated it. “That’s so mean to . . .”

“Stop with the act, angel.” Rio leaned back into the cushions, one leg crossing over the other. “Own how you feel for once. Take that relief and dig deep — see what else you’ll feel.”

The water glass had grown slippery in your palms. Either from how sweaty you got or from the melting ice. You were glad for the cold it provided, to keep you from floating away.

You sipped at it in quiet and refused to talk to her. Childish, perhaps. But what you couldn’t do right now was face what she was shoving in front of you: that you feared for your comforts as creaturely as they may be. You were raised to be a housewife and your parents didn’t know how to encourage much else.

You weren’t an educated woman — and didn’t have the money to become one.

“You’re depressing me,” Rio stated, slapping her hands on her knees. You jumped. Her head tilted low and she regarded you with something that should have sent you running, “I’ll keep you safe and pampered, angel. Sell your home, move into mine. I have three extra rooms. I could use a woman’s touch.”

“You’re a woman.”

A feline grin was your first reply. Then, “A working one.”

You supposed you could have realized that in the time she’s been around. No husband, widowed — how else would she have managed on her own without?

“It would . . . Isn’t it rather odd to have two women together? Especially one as a housewife?”

“We’re widowed, angel,” Rio reminded her as she removed the empty glass from your hand and set it on the coffee table. “Gossip will see a sad woman who need comfort from another woman who knows what it feels like. You will be truly devastated, simply unable to recover normally.”

You licked your lips and glanced around. It was darker in certain corners and the living room lacked color. “. . . Everything has a fine coat of dust,” you mumbled.

Rio laughed, standing and pulling you with her. She leaned forward and for a moment you held your breath, scared . . . Perhaps maybe filled with anticipation, as she did. Soft lips brushed your cheek.

“It’s a very good thing I just found myself a housewife to fix that.”

2024

The ache was gone — you could come to understand that as feeble awareness started to come to you in bloated masses.

Your body felt heavy and as though it had been pressed through your mother’s clothes wringer. Should you open your eyes? Would that even matter right now if all you could do was lay there and try not to vomit?

A sudden wave of pleasure that seemed to hurt coursed through you, and you let out a garbled moan as your body lifted and your hand frantically reached down to find the cause.

A soft, breathy chuckle greeted you against your wet pussy as your hand messily gripped hair and pushed the figure against you instead of pulling away.

“Mph.” Rio. It was Rio — she was — you ground your face down as her tongue delved deeper rather than pulling out of you to speak to you. You kept your eyes screwed shut — not wanting to see her but chasing that high she was making you seek out.

Her sharp nails gripped your bare ass and squeezed, nose rubbing purposefully into your clit as she used your body like an old instrument she pulled out of the closet.

It had been so fucking long and yet she knew you so goddamn well. Like it hasn’t been damn near seventy years and she hasn’t collared you with her magic and trapped you again.

With more force and anger driving you, you rode her face harder, knowing Death needn’t breath and how too entirely much she enjoyed the goddamn desperation she could soak up from you.

It flipped like a switch. One moment you’re angry and chasing something that you don’t want and the next you’re clawing at the brink of your orgasm like it was being veered over the edge of a cliff for years.

You cursed and kicked, but Rio saw the entire thing through. Only when your shivers eased and grip loosened did she come up for uneeded air, smug and eyes twinkling.

“Welcome home, angel.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you breathed, shoving her away with a shaky foot and sitting up on your thighs.

Then she was behind you, leaning over your shoulder with a weighted hand on the back of your neck. “I am going to enjoy seeing you try.”

Rio and reader will return in Part Two

PART TWO

[rhiannonsknife]

thinking about lottie and ‘guess’ by charlie xcx & billie but specifically billie’s part… like lottie knowing exactly what panties we’re wearing because of our tiny little skirt and it’s one of the pairs she bought for us on her trip to tokyo with her parents… hehehe

- 🦕

— you wanna guess the color of my underwear?

in my lottie blurb era, apparently??? 🤗

lottie’s backyard is a blur of blasting music, red solo cups, and the faint reek of cheap beer. you’ve barely stepped in through the front door when she finds you. her hand brushes your waist, practically claiming you before anyone else even has the chance to look your way.

“cute skirt,” she says, a knowing edge to her voice that makes you pause in your tracks. that sound is normally reserved for when it’s just you and lottie, preferably behind closed doors and not the hallway of her packed house.

you glance up at her, your pulse already picking up speed. lottie’s eyes are locked on you, dragging slowly down your body until they stop at the hem of your skirt. you don’t need her to say it to know what she’s thinking. what she’s looking for. you shift slightly on your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of just how short the skirt really is.

“lottie,” you murmur, glancing around the room. you can’t let her get to you; not here, in the middle of her crowded house.

she doesn’t let up. “what?” lottie asks. “you look good!”

her hand drifts lower, skimming your hip now, her fingers curling just slightly into the fabric. it’s not enough to draw attention from anyone else, but it is enough for you to feel it. enough to remind you that she doesn’t need to say a word to have you wrapped around her finger.

then she leans in, close enough that her breath is warm against your ear. “you’re wearing the ones from tokyo, aren’t you?”

your stomach flips violently, heat rushing straight to your face. sometimes you hate how easily lottie gets under your skin, how quickly she can unravel you without even trying.

“i-“ you start, but she cuts you off with a soft laugh.

“the black ones with the lace trim,” her breath tickles your ear, making you tense. “i bought them for you, remember?”

you glance around the room desperately, hoping no one is close enough to catch the conversation that’s currently making your knees weak. lottie doesn’t care. she never does.

her fingers press into your hip, enough to ground you, enough to remind you that she has you exactly where she wants you. then, lottie tilts her head, her lips brushing against your cheek this time as she murmurs, “you wore them for me, didn’t you?”

your throat goes dry. you should say something, maybe even deny it, but the way her voice dips lower with every word makes it impossible to think straight.

“lottie…” you hiss, her name trembling on your lips.

lottie just smiles, pulling back so she can meet your gaze. “you don’t have to say anything,” her thumb brushes under the waistband of your skirt, a fleeting, teasing touch that sends a jolt of arousal straight through you. “i already know…”

then she’s gone, pulling her hand back and stepping away like nothing even happened.

lottie doesn’t look back as she disappears into the crowd, leaving you standing there with flushed cheeks and a wet patch in your panties. they are the one from tokyo. and you wore them just for her.

[mochelisgf]

CHAPTER ONE —

ᰔ — pairing: morgan cheli x oc (mar williams)

ᰔ — word count: 1600

ᰔ — warnings: none rlly, little flirting and mentions of drinking, partying that’s about it

ᰔ — links: character list, fanfic masterlist

ᰔ — story masterlist

ᰔ — authors note: hiii we are back :3 juju storyline is starting to appear….jealous mo storyline? Anyways so the first 3 chapters for this fic are already written and have been uploaded to Wattpad, so if ur feeling impatient then u can read ahead on at @m0cheli on Wattpad, hope u enjoyyyy and let me know if there’s anything that you want in future chapters or u have any blurb ideas of mo and mar 🩷

The first thing Maureen hears when she wakes up is the door to her dorm opening and two familiar voices echoing throughout the main area.

You’d think her first instinct would be to cover her ears and groan in tiredness, but no, her first instinct is to jump up. If Georgia and Renee of all people are up and lively……then what time was it?

Immediately jumping up and grabbing her phone she checks her alarm ‘snoozed’. snoozed?….maureen doesn’t even remember the last time she’s snoozed her alarm, oh god she looks a mess right now.

And just as she’s about to turn her phone off, a notification catches her eye. It’s a email, from the office in charge of the dorm unit building – confused she clicks on it, her confusion deepens even more when she reads

‘Sometime within the next 2 weeks, you will receive a roommate in replacement of your last. Please contact us if you have any other information’

…..what the fuck—

The music is blasting. The smell of weed, liquor and sweat floating throughout. And her first sentence is

“Oh my god I can’t believe I let you guys drag me to a frat party – on campus. I thought we were supposed to go to club rio, what the fuck” Maureen whines, dragging the k in the last word

“Dude calm down, being at a frat party is the last thing you need to be worried about. What you need to be worried about is how you haven’t gotten pussy is 3 months– ” ree smirked out

“oh that’s so unnecessary, you know unlike some people, I actually have a life and a job and shit to do–” Maureen responded

Georgia sighed deeply, rubbing her forehead before saying

“Okay no. Y’all need to calm down or seperate, I don’t know but all I know is – mar you need to go and talk to people, and no I’m not referring to the people you share classes with. Talk to a girl or a guy and most importantly have fun okay, I’m gonna go bye” making a salute pose before heading into the crowd.

Maureen stands awkwardly, looking around hoping that she’ll see someone she notices – anyone really, just wanting to get away but needing an excuse; that doesn’t last very long when she hears a squeal come from beside her —

“Kayla!!! Oh my god, where have you been” ree asked as she smiles widely — ree’s friend — kayla responds equally excited “Hiiiii, i've been around, ugh im so glad you were finally able to come —”

She interrupts herself as she look on the other side of ree, her eyes landing on me “And youuuu must be Maureen, ree mentions you all the—”

“Kayla!” her cousin proclaimed, embarrassment flooding her face; and Maureen in response snickers. “Oops….well uh me and the girls haven’t been here long, but you can come chill with us if you want” kayla responds

Ree turns around and looks at the girl standing beside her “Mar?” she says, giving her a look of desperation — and i mean who am I to deny my cousin? “Yeah that’s cool” Maureen says, giving an awkward smile.

Kayla, Maureen and Renee make their way to the other side of the room, stopping along the way to get drink — her cousin, who turns around to meet her eye tells her –

“dude you really need to take more…you days, you need to loosen up, we’re at a party. Act like it.” A smile sitting on her lips as she hands her the cup filled with – honestly she doesn’t even know

“Yea, okay sorry” she says, accepting the cup and taking a sip – her face scrunching up from the taste — Maureen has always had a problem with apologizing, doing it when there's no reason to, but I guess that’s what happens when you're a people pleaser.

Finally pushing through the crowd, the trio makes their way to a more closed off area, sitting there are a big group of girls, everyone engaged in their own conversations whether they were the ones explaining it or listening.

Kayla walks fully in the room, leading us in. The first one to notice us is kk — i’d never met any of the girls on the team but kk – everyone knows kk, if you don't know her on the court you’ll know her from tiktok videos that pop up on your for you page randomly.

“Hey kayla girly pop!” is the first thing the girl says, everyone in result turns – conversations stopping abruptly.

Kayla moves closer towards me and ree, putting one of her hands on our shoulders “Guys this is Renee – my roommate's friend and her cousin Maureen! Mar is a law major – crazy right?” she says, a smile large on her face

And just as abruptly the noise ended; the noise of welcome started.

Some time has passed by; Maureen, ree and georgia – who later rejoined the two are all tired out from dancing and singing, voices raw and broken – the bright blue lights and smoke floating in the room making their heads and eyes hurt.

Maureen gets up from her seat and turns slightly towards the two girls “hey I’m gonna go get another drink, want anything?” both girls shake their heads no and so Maureen smiles slightly before walking off

She makes her way to the built-in bar, a taller man behind the counter – obviously hired, looks up at the girl and smiles signaling a ‘hold on a minute’ before finishing the drink he was making and handing it to the man that sits across from her.

“What can I get for you, pretty lady?” He says with a kind smile

Maureen smiles back “umm what’s like…the weakest drink you have?” Maureen doesn’t drink very often, and when she does she usually sticks to 2-3 drinks max. But after the news of her getting a replacement roommate and the amount of stress she’s just been in recently, lord knows she needed a night of complete freedom.

The man responds back “don’t worry I got you” and starts making her drink – he gets to the second step before she realizes what he’s making – a ‘vodka soda’ – exactly what she needed right now. He finishes the drink quickly and serves it up to her.

And so Maureen sits there, by herself, slowing sipping on her drink and scrolls on her phone – snaps a pic or two of herself and when she near finished she’s about to call the nice bar man over when –

“Hey! You’re Maureen right?” A voice beside her says. The voice sounds like the most…..calming thing she’s ever heard, like silvery and comforting and just a little bit raspy. Maureen immediately turns around, wanting to put a face to the voice and comes face to face with – someone she’s never met?….

Obviously Maureen’s face says what her voice isn’t and the girl chuckles slightly in realization “I’m Morgan, I play on the girls basketball team. I wasn’t there earlier but the girls told me that Renee and her cousin had joined us, just wanted to properly introduce myself, you know without all the drunk idiots surrounding us.” she says, her voice slowly fading in embarrassment and her cheeks turning a light pink when she realizes she’s began over talking

“Oh yeah, they told me a few of you were missing! Nice to meet you, I’m Maureen – which you already know but um….you wanna sit?” I suggested, gently tucking my hair behind my ears. “oh yeah I’d love to, thanks” she accepted

We sat there for who knows how long, just talking – shy and wandering looks but everything about this girl felt genuine – the way she actually seemed interested in what Maureen had to say, how they’d only known each other for an hour and a half and she felt like she could tell her anything.

“So I’m like ‘what are you talking about, the reason the boy became what he was isn’t because he was born like that but because of the horrible living conditions he had to live in and the lack of – ”

“Marrrrrrr i'm tired, let's go home.” The girl hears, as she turns around and sighs deeply, ree laid out on the bar counter. She turns back around facing Morgan – her face displaying obvious annoyance. Morgan in reply smiles slightly, her head tilting down slightly before she gets up out of her chair

“Do you need help?” is the first thing she asks – no, first thing she’s said in almost 20 minutes as she was previously listening to me talk non stop about something she’d known nothing about

“No i should be okay, I gotta go find my other friend and then get them both home, thank you for asking though that was kind” Maureen says also getting up from her seat, having to slightly look up to the 6 foot tall girl and her deep brown hair down that’s laying softly on her shoulders and her big beautiful brown eye –

“Um I don’t have my phone on me right now, but how about I get your insta from Paige tomorrow?” Morgan asks, wanting permission before doing so,

Maureen fiddles with the top of her skirt and responds back “Yeah that’s cool, I’ve gotta go now, so I guess I’ll see you later then?” reaching up to give Morgan a hug, and she feels the girls hands hug her mid back before they separate, both of their cheeks red and hot.

As Morgan is walking away, Maureen sighs deeply before collecting herself and helping her cousin up to her feet

“Hey so, where did you last see Georgia” –

— INSTAGRAM —

liked by morgancheli, juju watkins, georgiaeous and 83 others

mrwilliamsss club classics

view all comments......

jujuwatkins yk u lookin a lil too fine i mighttt have to fly you out idk

— mrwilliams idkkk u might have to

georgiaeous she may be hot but she's secretly a loser!!!

— mrwilliamsss i don’t know how to respond to that ngl

morgancheli So like... Hi 😊

— mrwilliamsss Hey 🤗

r3neewilliams you post too early

— mrwilliams just say your sleep routine sucks! Hope this helps

[moociaoafterdark]

Alright! HoruSang time! Modern AU, either High School or University, take your pick, though I'd go with the former. Both Horus and Sanguinius are popular senior years, model students with exemplary performance. The two are practically inseparable, and it's not a secret that the two are extremely close and value each other. Both boys are put on the pedestal and represent both their family and their school, so, there's an image to uphold. While Horus has difficulty trying to live up to the expectations, Sanguinius is having difficulty with maintaining it. While Horus has pretty basic and normal "guy interests", Sanguinius is different. He loves art, poetry, singing, which while is considered "soft and feminine" are still seen as normal and appropriate for a boy. However, when Sanguinius was introduced to goth culture things... changed. On one hand, he was instantly in love with how beauty clashed with the macabre. He learned more and more until he eventually stumbled upon the phenomenon of "gothic lolita fashion". He couldn't resist it, those girls in such pretty dresses... He wanted to dress like that. Horus found out about his brother's newfound interest pretty soon, Sanguinius told him practically right away, and while he was taken aback and confused at first, he still accepted his brother and helped him. When Sanguinius finally dressed the way he wanted to, Horus went from "accepting" to "supportive". Very, very supportive. He couldn't deny just how beautiful, if not hot, Sanguinius looked like in a long frilly dress, curly pigtails and a bright happy smile on his face. Little by little, they developed the routine in which Sanguinius could freely express himself without worrying about his image. That is, he pretends to be Horus' friend who is from a different school that he met one day. Horus and this cute goth "girl" were often seen together in places the former usually visited with his brother: park, cafes, city's library, shops, pet stores. Some people began to speculate that, perhaps, something happened and the two brothers had a falling out. Other's however deduced that this goth "girl" must be Horus' girlfriend! It's obvious, is it not? The thing that finally broke the close brotherly bond... was young love! The rumors spread and while everyone questioned how such a normal guy like Horus could be interested in someone like that girl, most people figured it was the case of "opposites attract". The news have also reached the father of the boys', who, for the most part, seemed... okay with it. Occasional teasing reminders to "wrap it up" were embarrassing for Horus, but, he could tolerate it. It was for Sanguinius, after all, anything to make his brother happy. Sure, the rumors are embarrassing to them, but, they both should've seen them coming. It's not ideal, but, it's tolerable. After all, those are just rumors, they're not, like actually into each other and dating... right? Bonus: For the fem!HoruSang, because I was curious how this would work for two girls, instead of two boys. I think Sanguinia would still be the crossdresser, a true bifauxnen, and still goth. She would dress up in the Gothic boystyle/dandy fashion. She and Hathor would still be going out places, but this time, the rumors about Hathor dating a cute goth "guy" would spread much faster than in the original scenario. Why? Sanguinia can't stop acting like a shoujo love interest, being so princely and affectionate with Hathor, making the poor girl red as a beet. When Hathor asks her to control herself, Sanguinia just cocks her head and says that the way she is acting right now is in no way different than how she normally acts. What changed, Hathor? You're not in love with this prince like appearance, are you?

[enhaluvblog]

— moth to a flame (l.hs)

She sat down on the sofa of her newly bought apartment, the city lights flickering on her face as her phone suddenly buzzed with a new notification.

“Heeseung” was written on the screen. Her heart started beating faster, her fingers hesitating over the screen of her phone.

She had promised herself so many times she would forget about him, about his existence. It had been months since she ended it, months of her lying to herself, forcing herself to move on. Yet, here she was, all alone in her room, the memories of him lingering on her mind, clouding her mind and pulling at her like a magnet.

She looked down at the screen once more, her finger hovering over the answer button, before pressing it apprehensively.

“I’ve been thinking about you, where have you been, angel?”

His voice was so casual, as if he hadn’t broken her heart, scattered into a million pieces she’d never be able to put back together.

Her mind started drifting back to the day they met— her being a freshman, still discovering the city, and being dragged by her newly made friends to a club.

He had a certain charm to him, he was so confident, so sure of himself. He could make everyone in the room feel seen with a simple glance, and that’s how she fell for him, a small smile and he had her feeling like the only person in the room.

Months had passed, and their love had turned into something darker, something obsessive.

It was all a game to him, the more she pulled, the more he’d pull away. Soon, she’d come to realise that it was draining her in a way she couldn’t explain. She loved him, but he was slowly killing her.

A few months after their splitting, she had already met someone else. Someone who could heal all her wounds. He cared for her, loved her like there was no tomorrow, but he just wasn’t Heeseung.

She kept trying to tell herself a love shouldn’t be all about passion, it had to be about certainty, she felt secure with him, she felt safe, even if she didn’t feel like he could burn her whole world with a simple glance.

Jay was such a gentleman, such a sweetheart. Taking her on dates unexpectedly, staying with her every night so she wouldn’t feel lonely, doing everything in his power to make her happy.

But she felt like a part of her was missing.

On a random Tuesday, she was over at Jay’s house, giggling as they were cooking dinner, playing around with the ingredients like kids.

Suddenly, her phone lit up, a text message from a certain someone on display. She almost immediately snatched her phone from the counter, reading it quietly before excusing herself to the bathroom, Jay being too busy with cutting onions to realise something was wrong.

She locked herself in the bathroom with a gulp, sliding down the door with her phone in her hands.

“You need to stop ignoring me like I meant nothing to you”

Her heart thumped dangerously against her chest, signaling she was about to do something she’d surely regret later on.

And that was replying to him.

“I am not”

Deny, deny, deny.

Why would I ignore him anyways? Always thinking so highly of himself, she thought to herself, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. If that was even possible.

“Then come meet me tonight. Hell club.”

And then the night came, and she found herself in an awfully short dress, make up and hair done as if she was trying to impress someone, well she was.

She shrugged off Jay when he asked if she wanted him to stay over at her house, almost immediately coming up with an excuse, and saying she oh so desperately needed some alone time.

Just a small white lie, she told herself, nothing to overthink about.

As she walked inside the club, a familiar song started playing, ‘moth to a flame’, of course.

Just then, two particular set of eyes were burning holes into her small frame, looking her up and down with a small smirk.

“Long time no see, angel.”

[briskoftrouty]

The thing about Sam was, even if he was hurt, angry he knew what it was like to feel small. To feel those insecurities. He knew what it was like to feel like you weren’t enough, the situations you were pushed into, were fate. And he knew Quinn, and yes some qualities the self serving, the thinking she’s queen of the school were some he personally could do without. But there was no denying even when bandaged up, even when she was in pain, the bruises on her face from the accident she was drop dead gorgeous. And Sam knew he wasn’t ready to jump in and fully trust the blonde. But sometimes all a girl needed was that reassurance that she was beautiful, and he meant it. She was. 

And the quinn he got was different from how she constantly represented herself around others. She had a good heart, even if she tended to shield herself. I think it had to do with how her dad treated her when he found out she did the ultimate disappointment move, which was be pregant. So she tried to be perfect so no one judged her, so no one saw underneath the scars of hurt. Of that lack of love. Sam understood quinn or so he believed he did. All that to say; the male was one to smile and nod his head now. “ I’m here to lean on, if you need me.” Supportive was by nature. Being a friend it was a given, Sam couldn’t with a good conscious slip away and leave the blonde to fend for herself. And her mother did like him, he could imagine the way she was giddy, setting up the place sets at the table for three, I liked her mom but she was also a tad pushy if you asked me. All that to say; the male was slightly dreading confirming his friendly behavior because her mother would probably try to push the get back together agenda. Which was one he’d swallow his pride and be polite about.

By now the pair had turned the corner within the car, and were just inches from the curb where he’d be parking his car. “ I know sometimes you don’t think you’ve changed, but you have Quinn, yeah you still that girl who wants to be on top, but you also care about the glee club and your at the state where you know we only want the best for you.” A reassuring smile on his lips as he nodded with encouragement. “ Yeah, just don’t let her push me into a corner okay.” We both expected how her mother would be, a playful wink left his eye as he slowed into a stop.

Continued

@teasedontplease

Broken hearts; the break ups haunt you. Sam always had a big heart; he felt it came from being a big brother. He tended to sugarcoat his feelings in order to put his siblings first. He cared about others more than he wanted to care about himself. When it came to Lima he felt he’d be the outcast, he never expected to be recruited from the glee club, or to make it onto the football team. He wanted to be involved. He wanted to be liked. But he got more than he felt he deserved. 

Quinn; she was the princess, the sweetheart of the cheerios. She was the it girl; and I liked her instantly. The second I laid eyes on her I felt that flutter in my chest. And I knew I wanted to win her over. She had reservations, she had her own secrets. Obviously he heard the rumors of her history; of the gossip mill. But Sam never cared he didn’t care about her mistakes from the year before. I cared about getting to know the her now. I had been stupid and naive to believe the blonde would fall in love with me. I had been stupid and got wrapped up in the us i wanted. Did I think too far beyond high school? Absolutely not. I had no idea what my future looked like; I played the days one at a time. I tried to replay the days that led up to the female cheating on me. Could I have do something differently? Was it my fault she felt the need to fall into the arms of an ex? Sam kept replaying the thoughts in his mind. And he was the good guy; the guy that cared a tad too much until she gave me the reason to turn my back on her. My biggest mistake was falling for Santana’s game; believing her when she told me she thought I should know. I was hurt, I felt my heart break into two. 

I lashed out; I felt out of character being with Santana; but it was easier than to face the hurt I felt. Each time I looked at her I felt the tighten of my chest, I felt the thought of wanting to cry spring to my eyes, but Quinn didn’t deserve me to react; she had hurt me on her own. But I also was sorry for hurting her instead of being the man my dad raised me to be which was to comfort the people who upset you. To comfort those that did you wrong. I had morals and for a few weeks I lost sight of it. But now I knew I was wrong; and that’s why I felt a piece of myself was forgiving Quinn. I cared enough to drag her out of her house after the accident. I cared enough to look her in the eye; to lash it out with each other. 

Tension and awkwardness; but I think the storm passed as we sat within the walls of my car. I felt the tension slowly wash away; I felt like we had to forgive ourselves before being able to be friends. Did I love Quinn? Yes; no doubt, but I was in no means prepared to jump right in. She had to earn the right to make her way into my heart again. Today wasn’t about us; it was about her; the want to take her mind off her injuries for a few hours. I had a plan in notion; the movie in the park; it would be dark in a few hours; and even if we sat in the car facing the screen I think she’d smile because it was her favorite movie. Well one of them. 

Hand rested on the wheel at the subject of prom. Did I detect a hint of hopefulness in her voice? Did I detect that she wanted me to ask her? Maybe a few months ago I would’ve but now? I didn’t trust myself or the blonde sitting in the seat next to me. I had tried to dodge the answer; not wanting to hurt Quinn and I didn’t lie. Tina and mike did want to go as a group; well more like I was tagging along as the third wheel. I had to laugh at myself how pathetic..? The blonde held his laugh until I turned his gaze over to the female. A soften gaze fixed onto his features. 

“ You know, I’m sure if you wanted you can tag along with the group, the more the better right?” A lightness to his voice shown, as he extended his hand out to place upon her own. A small touch to say he understood. “ I think each one of us is, for what it’s worth, you always have my vote for queen.” A softness in him; his eyes fixated on her; holding her gaze, a moment; one where he knew he was going to be in trouble.

[elicypher]

high school gossip utc

i used to have this friend i was super close with in hs, to the point we had each others' instagram passwords and all (really important detail btw).

she had a bf she was on and off with for two(?) whole years

anyway, time skip to a few weeks, she's crying to me during computer class and i'm asking her wtf is wrong but she won't tell me and later she tells me it's the same guy, and apparently he cheated on her. they break up yada yada

but during the last few months of the year we were going to graduate, she started bringing these packs upon packs of chocolates and other stuff every single day without fail and she'd tell me it was THE SAME GUY that got it for her. i remember congratulating her and shit because she looked really happy and i really thought they were finally locked in 😭

anyway LMFAOO she and i were in the same friend group and i remember her posting stories where her bf and she were holding hands and like posting sappy couple shit and lil text messages and stuff. and we'd all be hyping her tf up. during the holidays, though, one of my friends had been taking screenshots of the shit she posted on her instagram cause they were suspicious and searching it on the search image option on pinterest & google

TURNS OUT HER BF WASN'T REAL 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 there wasn't just one image of one of the pics she'd posted of 'them' (they were always faceless or either blurry asf). but SEVERAL. both on google AND on pinterest 💀

remember when i said i had her password to instagram? i'd see her dms to her 'bf' and they all felt so oddly suspicious to me??? like they'd be texting eerily similar and they were ALWAYS online at the same mfing time. and they went off at the same time too. oh also the fact that bro had only like five followers. so eventually i'd begun to feel like she didn't actually have a bf. but i kept it to myself because i didn't want to ruin our friendship or incase i was wrong about this

everyone confronted her while i was asleep and i woke up too like a hundred messages & her sending pictures of random ass guys saying it was her bf (but they never looked the same💀)

AND the password i had to her instagram account??? i copied the 'bf's username on instagram and used THAT SAME password and IT LET ME IN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 and the only person her 'bf' was talking to was me and her. SHE WAS TEXTING HERSELF AND ME

so as a joke i posted a story of a picture of her on HER BF'S ACCOUNT and wrote a small message to her saying how grateful 'i' (in the pov of her 'bf') am so lucky to have her as 'my' gf and that she's never once lied to 'me' 😭😭😭😭 and all of the friends from the gc who found out too were screenshotting that and pasting it on THEIR STORIES. oh i also had them match pfps lmfao

next day i woke up to her messages telling me how she's going to kill me and sending me threats and saying she and her bf (SHE'S STILL LYING😭😭) are going to beat my ass and cussing tf out of me before blocking me and everybody else involved 😭

im trying to find the other ones like the one from the gc but i can't find it yet 💔💔💔

[ofpromethea]

the way people talk about grimes is so virulently misogynistic I could vomit just hearing it

[pctcrparker]

“I would keep denying it, obviously,” he answered his wife, raising an eyebrow at her. There was no way that Matt would ever believe that he was more high maintenance than Kara. Yeah, sure. Maybe he had higher standards for things that most other people wouldn’t, but Kara was on a whole other level all on her own. So if their daughter inherited that characteristic, it would one hundred percent be from her. When Kara talked about how difficult it was to see their daughter cry, Matt nodded his head along gently, agreeing with her. Even he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t the type of parent to let their daughter cry until she put herself to sleep. Yes, he had read the parenting books and the parenting articles and many talked about letting the child cry so they could learn how to soothe themselves into falling asleep, but the times they’ve tried that, Matt had found himself feeling anxiety over it. Which was odd. Usually any anxiety he felt was when something was out of place or not clean enough for him, but hearing Sam cry, his immediate response is to check on her and try to soothe her himself. He felt better when he did. Snuggling up closer to Kara as she continued to tangle her fingers into his hair, he felt his eyelids become even heavier at the gesture. “Mmm,” he muttered lazily, almost in protest to her demanding that he sleep and not wake up. Not that he’d have any say in whether  or not he would stay asleep through Sam crying. But he knew that even if he did wake, Kara would immediately put him back to sleep. “Again?” he then responded when she asked if he could stop by her office tomorrow. Or later that day technically, whatever. Time was a foreign concept now as a parent. Which, again, was also troublesome for someone like Matt who was very on the dot. “What do you do to that bathroom?” He moved his head so that he was pressed against her body, inhaling as he took in Kara’s familiar and comforting scent. “But yeah, sure. I’ll stop by after work.”

pctcrparker​:

“High maintenance?” He questioned with a dumbfounded expression. He knew that his wife was saying this to pull his chain, but it was rather amusing coming from her. Matt had never met someone any more high maintenance than Kara. She had not only expensive taste all around, but she had the tendency to center herself in all of their lives. There is no escaping how high maintenance his wife was. “Because of me? You’re blaming me for our child being high maintenance. I hope you see the irony in that.” He shook his head as if he were disapproving before he broke out into a grin. After placing Kara down and the two of them got comfortable back in bed, he signed contently as she began to stroke his hair, a gesture that Matt could never get tired of. It was something she’d always done since the beginning of their relationship and it was always something that never failed to calm him down, back when he had a much bigger issue with his anger problems. “Well, I’m glad you’re admitting you’re the problem here, he teased her, tilting his head to place a kiss over her stomach so she knew he was just joking. When she glanced down at him, he glanced up at her and without hesitation, he answered. “She’d win.” It was no contest. Sam had both her parents wrapped around her little finger. Kara liked to tease Matt and say it was him who was whipped by his own baby, but she failed to realize how quick she was to tend to Sam herself. “She’ll win not because she’s stubborn. She’ll win because we’re weak.” He adjusted his head so that he was laying down against her stomach again, eyes shutting because he knew that it wouldn’t be long until Sam was crying and closing his eyes felt a lot better than keeping them open. “Which is why we should get plenty of sleep now before she decides she wants our attention.”

Kara laughed at the offended look on Matt’s face when she insinuated that he was the high maintenance one. Matt would never admit it, but he could get just as high maintenance as her. Sure, his way of being high maintenance was not materialistic as her, but he was high maintenance, especially when it came to what he put into his body. “And if I continue to insist it is you that she’s high maintenance?” she asked in at teasing manner, but in all seriousness, they knew if anything, it was definitely because of her. Smiling down at her husband as he tenderly kissed her stomach, Kara sighed in contentment as she continued to stroke his hair. Never did she think that this would become her life. When she first started dating Matt, he had made it clear where he wanted his life to go and what he wanted for his life. Never did it include having children and hell, it didn’t even include getting married. When he proposed to her, Kara honestly thought that it was as good as it was going to get and she was more than happy with it. She already had Luke and that was enough for her, but he had changed his mind and she knew he only changed his mind because there was a part of her that wanted kids with him. Kara knew she was lucky to have Matt. She was lucky that he loved her enough to set aside not wanting kids for her and even making so many sacrifices so they could have kids. Nodding her head in agreement, Kara sighed. “That’s very true. We are weak for her. Which is bad because if we hold her too much when she cries, she’ll never learn how to soothe herself, though we don’t seem to care. I don’t want to care. It hurts me physically when I see her crying,” Kara explained. Sitting up so she can kiss the top of Matt’s head, she tangled her fingers with his hair and smiled. “Get some sleep. You’re going to need it my love. You have work tomorrow and don’t you dare wake up if Sam cries. I’ll deal with her. I can sleep while at work in between patients, you cannot,” she warned her husband. Though he technically could since he was the boss. The wonderful perks of owning your own gym. “But, speaking of, could you take a look at my office tomorrow after work? There’s a leaky faucet in the bathroom.”

[maaarine]

Why are British teenage girls so unhappy? Here’s the answer (Caitlin Moran, The Times, Sep 13 2024)

"The report, by the Children’s Society, found that British 15-year-old girls are the most unhappy in Europe.

British girls aged 10-15 are “significantly less happy” with their life, appearance, family and school than the average boy — and their happiness is still declining.

Boys’ life satisfaction, meanwhile, remains broadly stable. (…)

But I still didn’t have an “aha!” moment about why this so disproportionately affects girls until… I talked to some teenage girls.

It was at a party, and I went to vape with them on the patio. Because I take my nicotine like children do.

“Duh — it’s the boys,” one said when I brought it up, as all the others agreed.

“The boys?” I asked.

My last book, What About Men?, had been all about how much boys struggle these days: their loneliness; their suicide rates. I’d spent the past year feeling very sympathetic towards boys.

“Yeah, well, who do you think they’re taking out their unhappiness on? It’s us,” another girl said.

“One boy at school used to draw a picture every day of how ugly I was,” a third girl said. “Every day for two years.”

“They’ve all got ‘Rate The Girls’ polls on their WhatsApps,” the first said. “They mark you down for weight gain, haircuts, what you say.”

“But then, if you’re hot, it’s just as bad, in a different way, because they’ll be talking about how they want to f*** you.”

The girls discussed coping techniques. Bad news: none of them worked.

“The only way you can stop them is if you become ‘one of the boys’ and hang out with them. But then,” the second girl said with a sigh, “all the other girls call you a slut. Because you’ve gone over to the boys’ side.”

“Surely it’s not all the boys?” I said. “There must be some nice boys?”

“Oh, yeah,” one girl said. “But they keep their heads down. Because… well, look.”

She showed me the Instagram account of her friend. Under every picture she posted of herself — smiling in a new dress; with her dog — dozens of anonymous accounts had replied with the most rank abuse.

“Fat.” “Slut.” “You gonna try and kill yourself again, for attention?”

“They’re all boys from her school,” she said. “And look, this one boy tried to defend her.”

I saw a series of messages from a brave teenage boy, posting things like, “You’re all big men, leaving these replies under anonymous accounts.”

As I could see, this boy immediately became a target too. Mainly accusations that he was “white knighting” this girl: “You wanna f*** her, bro?”

“So,” I asked, “you don’t think it’s social media pressure to be beautiful, or the economy, that’s making girls so sad?”

“Well, yeah, them too,” the first girl said. “But, Monday-Friday, 9-3, I’m not on social media. I’m not… in the economy. I’m just with these boys. And no one talks about how horrible they are.”

I thought about another recent report, showing a 30 per cent ideological gap between Gen Z men, who are increasingly conservative, and Gen Z women, who are increasingly progressive.

I thought about Andrew Tate, who has nine million mostly young male followers — and faces human trafficking charges, which he denies.

And I thought: maybe these girls are on to something. Maybe more people need to vape with teenage girls and ask them for the school gossip."

[ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes]

I just watched some of the new Bridgerton and I did not expect to see a scene so close to one I (an aroace person) had had with my mom

[deathbxnny]

Arcane characters when someone flirts with you. | Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika x Gn!Reader

I am the brain rot. The brain rot is me.✨️

Content: pre season 2 Viktor/Jayce!, Jealousy, pitfighter Vi, established romantic relationships, angst, threats of violence/death threats, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He always struggled with self-esteem issues, mainly due to his sickness and disability that made it difficult for him to do much. A part of him forever will believe that you could easily do better than him, yet that doesn't stop him from getting terribly jealous anytime someone gets too friendly with you. Especially when they can see him standing next to you clearly being your partner as well.

But despite his insecurities, he doesn't allow anyone to harass you either on his watch. He lets you defend yourself for the most part until he has enough and lets his more sassy side handle the flirtatious person for you. He may not be able to do anything in a physical way, something he very much would rather avoid. But his tongue is sharp, and it takes little to make them quickly scurry away with a nervous apology for the disturbance.

He'll never admit to being jealous, however, and denies any teasing accusations you send his way. But he'll secretly ask for reassurance as he starts feeling embarrassed over his insecurities rather quickly after. A couple of hugs and kisses from your side will fix that right up, though.

》JAYCE

He has a reputation to keep up. And so, technically, he should always handle things professionally no matter what. People are watching him after all, and his public image can not be tarnished under any circumstance... or so he says. Things change in his mind when they are about you. In general, people know who you are and who you belong to since he rarely shuts up about it.

But every now and then, someone who is somehow unfamiliar with this concept will come up to you and attempt to woo you right in front of his very eyes. Now, Jayce tries to let you handle yourself, but doesn't hesitate to step in either if the person doesn't get the hint. His rather intimidating frame and position as a councilor help him out Immensely with this. He chases them away with a tight smile and a kiss to your head, as he casually asks how he can oh so graciously help them.

Once they leave, he'll pretend not to hear you, of you teasingly asking him if he was jealous. Him? Jealous? Hah! Impossible... okay, maybe a little. But don't tell anyone that.

》VI

As a pitfighter, Vi doesn't hesitate to get violent with anyone who comes close to the only good thing she has left in her life, which happens to be you. She's extremely protective and makes sure everyone gets the hint regarding who you belong to. But alas, there are always the couple strays that refuse to comprehend that fact and therefore attempt to "steal" you away from her. Something that never ends well for anyone.

Her temper is shorter than it used to be, and that becomes quite clear when she's quick to loom over the person that was pestering you. She knows that you can handle yourself just fine, too. But that doesn't stop her from grabbing their shoulder and asking them if she can help them out instead. Or maybe they want to talk it out in the pit? All the same to her, but the message is clear. She'll win if it comes to you every time, and that's enough to make the person scurry away in terror.

You'll definitely have to calm her down and reassure that you had everything handled. She's just looking out for you, though, and doesn't want you to get hurt, too, like everyone else in her life. The last thing she wants is to mess up again, so her overprotective tendencies will probably never lessen. Not that you kind anyways.

》CAITLYN

Your role as her partner is crystal clear to absolutely everyone in Piltover, especially after she takes over the troops as their new ruler. She's much more cutthroat and cold than she used to be before her mothers death, which made her extremely overprotective of you and your safety. She may even be suffocating at times with her security measures, but she finds it absolutely necessary. This also means, however, that those who try becoming a bit too friendly with you are always at risk of facing her wrath.

She doesn't hold back with her dismay and is quick to stand before you with a dark, stern glare directed at whoever was flirting with you beforehand. Caitlyn doesn't care if you can take care of yourself or not either. She'll take full advantage of her new position and power too, not hesitating to give the person that was pestering you a professionally worded threat that leaves them as pale as a ghost.

Admittedly, it's hard to tell if she's jealous or just worried in her own way. Before her mother's death, it may very well just be her being a bit jealous... but with her current position, she may also just be afraid to lose you too deep down. And she couldn't handle that.

》JINX

After Silco's death, Jinx's temper is milder than before due to her deteriorating mental health (if there was anything left of it to begin with). She's a lot calmer when handling situations and seeming more calculated than before, but that certainly doesn't quell the extreme abandonment issues in her at any rate. If anything, they've become much worse than before. This means that she'll cling to you and snap at anyone who nears you. No one is allowed to steal your attention away from her. No one can take you away from her. She just won't allow it when you're all she has left.

And so, she won't hesitate to use her gun on anyone who is pestering you. A death threat or two usually gets the point across anyway. Jinx will also let you handle yourself first, however though, knowing you can easily do that. But if things do get out of hand, she will step right to scare them away at best. She'd never kill anyone infront of you after all. She doesn't want to scare you away.

You'll have to reassure her of your loyalty a lot afterward, however, as her insecurities and issues can make her spiral fairly easily. Giving her a lot of attention and love makes everything go away, though, luckily.

》SEVIKA

She's very secure in your relationship and trusts you perfectly fine, which is why she rarely ever gets jealous. Why should she, anyway, when you'll always come back to her at the end of the day? Besides, people in the lanes know who you are and who you belong to, and most importantly, what will happen to their faces once she bashes them in if they ever harass you too much.

With that said, though, she typically lets you do your own thing and chase the person away yourself first before bothering to step in. If things get out of hand, then she'll suddenly be right behind you and tower over whoever it is that's not getting the hint. Blowing smoke right into their faces, she'll ask them if they have a problem, and if yes, then they should take it up with her outside. Although everyone knows she's the only one back afterwards. This usually does the trick.

Don't expect her to ever say that she is jealous, though, and hopes you know better, too. She knows you're loyal, as she certainly is for life and therefore doesn't worry about a thing regarding the strength of your relationship.

No one is better than her anyway.