#i don't hate it........ i just hate the way it sounds

[aesthetically-dying101]

how would the reader finds out that they were a bet (jjk men) but not only were they a bet but their entire friend group (the rest of the jjk group) knew about it and kept it from the reader?

I've fallen for a lie.

A/N: (inspired by: No time to die, my friend plays it on repeat) so... don't hate me, but personally, i think angst is HILARIOUS. ALSO, this is pure pain and suffering. fluff if you squint. Also i went overboard, like completely, i wrote way too much, my fav one is sukuna's.

DISCLAMER: i got this request 6 or so days ago, i've been working on this ever since, i did not copy retiredteabag (who did this post), someone just requested it on both our accounts. I wrote way too much just to throw this out so like.. yeah, proof (just in case, i just don't wanna start drama), but thank you to the anon that requested this!!!

Contents: pain. grovelling pathetic men. reader standing on bussiness bc i dislike the weepy y/n. yearning but like heartache. (im sorry for the choso/gojo/geto fans, this sucks for yall) nanami is perfect as always bc he's him. mostly angst.. toxic relationships.

Characters: Nanami, Toji, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Choso, Shiu, Higuruma. (in that order)

Three years.

Three years of laughter, memories, promises, and whispered secrets. Three years of holding his hand through everything, supporting him when the world felt like it was crumbling, believing that what you two had was real.

And it was all a lie.

Your fingers trembled as you held the phone, the conversation with Haibara still ringing in your ears. Your heart pounded in your chest as each word replayed in your head like an unrelenting drumbeat.

“It was a dare. Nanami was dared to approach you that night at the bar. He didn’t even know who you were at first.”

It was a dare.

Your stomach churned, bile rising in your throat as a cold sweat broke out along your neck. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. You must’ve misunderstood. Haibara had to be joking. That’s the only explanation. But why would he joke about something like that?

The pounding of your heart filled your ears, drowning out the sound of everything else. Nanami. The man you had come to love more than anyone else. The man who had asked you to marry him last month—last month—was a part of some sick bet? A dare?

You grabbed the edge of the table for support, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Three years… Was it all just some game to him? Every soft touch, every shared meal, every late-night conversation? Was it all just some joke? A cruel one at that?

Your hands moved before your mind could catch up, yanking open the closet, throwing your clothes into a suitcase in a frenzy. The pain in your chest was so sharp, so visceral, it felt like a thousand knives stabbing into your soul. This was not happening. Not to you. Not after everything.

Your thoughts spiraled. No, no, no... How could he do this? How could he stand in front of you, gaze so soft, and tell you he loved you, that he wanted to build a life with you? He’d proposed. He’d promised. And now, it was all just a lie.

A dare.

The door clicked open, and the sound of his voice made your heart freeze in your chest.

“(Y/N)?” Nanami called, his tone light but confused, as if nothing was wrong.

You froze mid-packing, every muscle in your body locking in place. You could feel the heat of tears pooling in your eyes, but you couldn’t let them fall. Not now. Not when your entire life felt like it was collapsing around you.

You didn’t turn to face him. You couldn’t.

“(Y/N)... What’s going on? You’re packing—” His voice trailed off as he stepped closer, the sound of his shoes against the hardwood floor making the room feel smaller, more suffocating.

“Stop. Just stop,” you said, the words barely leaving your throat before they cracked.

You turned to face him, your hands shaking, the sight of him making you feel dizzy with anger and betrayal. His eyes widened at the sight of your suitcase, your movements hurried, frantic.

“(Y/N)... What’s wrong?” His voice was calm, too calm, like he was still in control. The nerve.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” you repeated, your voice rising as the weight of the truth came crashing down on you. “You don’t get to ask that. You don’t get to play the innocent card here. You lied to me, Nanami. For three years, you lied to me. And so did they.”

His expression faltered. It didn’t take much—just a flicker of realization in his eyes, but it was enough- and the worse part? You had called him Nanami. His expression was enough to make your chest tighten painfully.

“Y-You don’t understand…” Nanami started, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Let me explain—”

“Explain?” you interrupted, your voice rising to a dangerous pitch. “You want to explain? There’s nothing to explain, Nanami. You were dared to talk to me. That’s it. That’s where it all started. Everything else, everything, was just... just what? Some twisted joke?” Your fists clenched at your sides, the raw anger and hurt making it hard to breathe.

His face shifted from confusion to guilt, then to desperation.

“I— Yes. It started as a dare, but everything after that was real. I never—”

“You never what?!” You couldn’t control your emotions any longer. “You never thought you’d fall for me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

The coldness in your voice made his face fall. But he still pushed forward, trying to fix the mess he’d made.

“I swear to you, after that night—after we started talking—I fell for you. I fell hard, and I’ve never once regretted it. I love you. I’ve loved you from the very first time we met, even if it started as a dare, even if it was a stupid game, it was real for me. Everything I’ve said, everything I’ve done for you... It’s been real. I swear on everything, it’s been real.”

“Really?” The bitter laugh that left your lips was sharp, cruel. “You want me to believe that after all of this? After you had the gall to propose to me last month? You think that now is when I should trust you?”

You took a deep breath, each word cutting through the air like a blade. “I’m done. I’m done, Nanami. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a fool. You don’t get to lie to me for three years, and then think you can fix it by saying ‘I love you.’”

You turned away from him, your movements deliberate as you grabbed the engagement ring from your finger. The diamond caught the light, flashing like a cruel reminder of everything that had been taken from you.

You slammed the ring down onto the table, the harsh sound echoing through the apartment. Nanami froze, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

The sight of his face made the sting in your chest even worse.

“I’m not your fucking bet, Nanami. I’m not your fucking game.” Your voice broke, but you forced yourself to keep going. “I don’t need your lies. I don’t need you.”

You could feel his presence behind you, his breath heavy with emotion. “Please, my love, don’t leave like this. We can fix this. I swear to you—”

You turned toward him, your eyes burning with fury and sorrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be the mature one? The one who’s so responsible? The one who’s always so calm and collected?” You stepped toward him, your voice full of venom. “But you’re just a liar.”

You couldn’t stay here. You couldn’t breathe in this suffocating space any longer.

You shoved past him, your heart racing as you grabbed your things and headed toward the door. You slammed it shut behind you with finality, the sound ringing in your ears.

Nanami was left standing there, frozen in the silence of his own regret, the weight of your departure heavy in the air.

And as you walked away, your mind couldn’t shake the image of him, his broken face, his pain.

*-*

Three days. It had only been three days since everything fell apart. Three days since the man you thought you’d spend your life with turned out to be nothing more than a liar—well, not just a liar. A liar who dared to approach you. The realization felt like a poison that had seeped into your bones, one you couldn’t shake. You spent those three days in a fog of confusion, anger, and heartbreak.

You hadn’t gone back to your apartment; hell, you couldn’t. There was nothing left for you there. No trace of the life you thought you were building. So, you did the only thing you could think of: you went to your parents.

They’d been kind, as they always were, but their words didn’t reach you. They didn’t fix the deep, hollow ache in your chest. They didn’t make you forget the way Nanami had lied to you. The way he had made you believe that everything was real… until it wasn’t.

Your mom had tried to rationalize, telling you that maybe Nanami made a mistake, that people do things they regret, that maybe he’d never intended for it to go this far. Your father had simply kept quiet, unsure of what to say, but you could tell by the way he watched you that he was worried.

But none of their words made it past the wall you’d built around yourself. They weren’t wrong. They were just trying to comfort you. But how could you be comforted by someone who had deceived you? You’d given him everything, and now, what did you have left? A broken heart. A destroyed future.

Your mind spiraled as you sat on your bed, staring blankly at the wall. You were so angry, but most of all… you just missed him. You missed his voice, the way his hand felt in yours, the calm that came with being in his presence.

Why did he have to lie? Why did he have to make me believe it was real?

A soft knock on your door startled you. You didn’t move, didn’t respond. The door creaked open anyway, and your mother’s voice gently filled the silence.

“Honey, I know you're angry right now, but maybe it’s time to—”

You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear anything about Nanami right now, especially not from her.

“Mom,” you said in a soft, tired voice, “please, just… just leave me alone. I don’t want to hear it.”

Your mother hesitated, as though weighing her words, but then she sighed. “I just… I want you to be happy again. I can’t see you like this.”

Before she could leave, she muttered something under her breath. It was so soft, almost like she was speaking to herself. “You were so happy with him, though. I could see it… We all could.”

You didn’t hear the door close.

You felt the sudden tension in the air before you even registered what was happening. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard footsteps coming toward the room. Your head snapped toward the doorway, and there, standing in the frame, was him.

Nanami.

Your breath caught in your throat. What the hell was he doing here?

Your mother gave you one last look, a silent apology in her eyes, before she turned and walked out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence that followed was suffocating. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know if you even wanted to say anything to him. He didn’t deserve your words.

And then, in the stillness, you let out a frustrated screech. The emotion you’d been bottling up for days finally exploded. You stood, shoving the blanket off the bed, pacing the room. How dare he show up here? You were so fucking angry. You didn’t even care that he was standing there, looking like he was about to crumble to pieces himself.

“You don’t get to just show up here!” you snapped, your voice shaking. “You lied to me, Nanami! You fucking lied to me, and now you think you can just walk back in and pretend everything’s fine?”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stood there, his eyes dark with pain, his fists clenched at his sides. And then, without a word, he walked over to you, and before you could protest, he shoved something into your lap.

You looked down.

A stack of printed screenshots. What the hell was this?

You picked them up hesitantly, your fingers trembling as you stared at the words on the page. You saw his name. Haibara’s. You saw group messages, text conversations, timestamps. You felt a sickening pang in your chest as the realization began to sink in.

These were from the night you first met.

These were from the weeks after that night.

“I… I don’t understand.” You glanced up at him, your voice shaking. “What is this? What the hell is this supposed to prove?”

He swallowed hard, clearly trying to gather his composure. “Look at the messages. Read them.”

You flipped through the pages. The first few were from that night. They were screenshots of Haibara daring him to approach you, followed by Nanami’s messages in the group chat—messages about how nervous he was, how much he wanted to make a good impression, how he thought he might’ve met the love of his life.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like you were suffocating. Why didn’t he just tell me this?

His eyes softened, and he took a shaky breath. “I wanted to, but… I didn’t know how to. I didn’t know how to say it without you thinking it was all a lie. I was terrified you’d leave me. But I couldn’t stop falling for you, (Y/N). I swear to you, everything after that night… it was real. I never thought this would happen. I never thought I would fall in love with you, but I did.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared at the messages in disbelief. They were real. He hadn’t edited them. You looked up at him, the pain in your chest intensifying.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you asked, voice breaking. “Why didn’t you just say something? I spent three years thinking it was all a lie. You could have told me.”

“I should have,” Nanami whispered. He took a step closer to you, his hands shaking. “I should have told you sooner. I was stupid. I was so scared that if you knew, you’d leave. But I… I love you. And I’ve loved you from the very start.”

You could feel the weight of his words, but your heart was still so raw, so broken. “This doesn’t just go away, Nanami. You can’t just… fix this.”

His face fell. “I know. I know I can’t. But I’m willing to do anything. I’ll go to marriage counseling. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Please, [Y/N]. Please.”

You shook your head, unable to stop the tears from falling. “I can’t just go back to being with you. It’s not that easy.”

He nodded, stepping closer to you. His voice was raw, almost pleading now. “I know. I’m not asking for that. I just need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I love you. And I’ll keep fighting for you… for us.”

The words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You couldn’t decide if you should scream at him or pull him close. You were so angry, but you were also so fucking heartbroken.

But maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the villain in this story. He was just a man who had made the most terrible mistake of his life. And you had been his greatest love all along.

Could you forgive him?

You didn’t know. But maybe… maybe there was a way.

It started like any other day, or at least it felt that way.

Megumi was at school, leaving you with the quiet hum of your and Toji's house. You cleaned, you cooked, you settled into the role you had grown to love. Step-mom. You could never have imagined you'd be so attached to that boy, but there you were. Caring for him, nurturing him like he was your own flesh and blood, even when it felt impossible.

The bond was real, undeniable.

And then… the phone call came. It was innocent at first—a quick check-in from Shiu. But it wasn’t the usual chat about Megumi’s progress at school or the latest movie you all wanted to see. It was different.

It was calculated.

The words hit you like a slap.

"It was a bet, Y/N. From the start. You were never meant to be anything more than that..."

You blinked. You heard him, but your mind couldn't fully grasp it. Your heart tried to deny it.

"A bet?" you whispered to yourself, voice quivering, feeling the blood drain from your face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Toji and I, we made a bet. You were never meant to be the one. You were just… entertainment."

His words were sharp, laced with a smugness that made you sick. It felt like your entire world—no, your very identity—was just ripped from you in a moment of cruel reality.

You didn’t even hang up. You didn’t even need to. Your thoughts were spinning, dizzy with disbelief and betrayal. How could they? They—your friends, Toji’s closest allies—all knew. They knew, and not one of them bothered to tell you. Not one of them had the decency to warn you.

You weren’t even a person to them. You were a game, a pawn. A prize that Toji had to win.

Tears welled in your eyes. Your heart cracked open like a fragile shell. The life you thought you had built—Megumi, Toji, this family, this home—crumbled. You were just a tool, an object in their bet.

"No." The word broke through the veil of shock, raw and bitter. "No. I can’t—I can’t stay here. I need to leave."

You jumped up from the couch, grabbing your purse with trembling hands. It was like you were on autopilot, moving solely on the instinct to escape. The door. You just needed to get to the door. Leave. Go anywhere. But as you moved to turn the handle, it wouldn't budge.

You shook the knob harder, panic seizing your chest. It was locked. You turned to the windows, but they were all shut tight, reinforced. The walls felt like they were closing in on you.

"Toji," you whispered his name, the desperation in your voice clear.

The footsteps behind you weren’t subtle. You felt his presence before he spoke.

"Where do you think you’re going?" His voice was low, almost soothing, but you knew better. You knew the danger behind the calmness.

You spun around, anger bubbling up, fighting through the layers of hurt. "You locked the door?"

"Not just the door, sweetheart," he said, his smile sickeningly sweet, like it could erase everything he'd just shattered. "You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here. With me."

The tears you had been holding back finally fell, hot and painful. "You think I’ll just stay after this?"

Toji didn’t flinch. His eyes, dark and intense, never left you as he took a slow step forward.

"You’ve been good to Megumi," he said, his voice soft but laced with something darker. "You’ve been like a real mom to him. And now, you think you’ll just throw that away? Just like that?" He clicked his tongue, a disappointed shake of his head. "You’re too important to him."

The way he said it… It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t even a question. It was a claim. A manipulation.

"What are you talking about?"

"You think Megumi won’t miss you?" Toji’s smile widened, and there was something almost predatory in his eyes. "You think he won’t notice? After everything you’ve done for him, after how you’ve helped him… You’re too good to leave."

His hands reached for you then, slow and deliberate, like he was reaching for something fragile, something precious. You backed away, but he was faster, gripping your arms and pulling you into his chest.

"No. No," you said, your voice shaking with the weight of all the lies. "You’re a fucking monster."

"You don’t mean that," Toji cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his breath hot against your skin. "I know you’re angry. I get it. I really do. But this? This isn’t something we can just walk away from. You’ve got a place here now. A real place, with me and Megumi."

You pushed against his chest, but his grip only tightened, unyielding. "You think you can just control me like this?"

"You were a bet," he whispered, his voice rough now, but his grip still unshaken. "But you’re more than that now. You’re mine. And you’re not going anywhere."

Your heart broke all over again as you realized the depth of his control over you, the twisted grip he had on your life. You didn’t know if you hated him more for what he had done, or for what he had become.

"Please," you choked out, voice breaking. "Please let me go. I can’t do this anymore."

But even as you begged, you knew it was useless. The door was locked, and your heart had been sealed shut behind it.

He pulled you closer, almost tender now, pressing his lips to your ear in a way that sent chills down your spine. "Don’t worry, baby." His words were dark, possessive. "You’ll understand. You’re gonna stay here. You’ll stay for me. For Megumi. And you’re gonna love it."

And as you stood there, helpless in his arms, the room spinning with the weight of everything you had lost, you knew one painful truth: you would never leave. Because Toji wouldn’t let you.

And that was worse than any bet.

The world felt softer when Gojo was around.

The way his laughter filled the room, buoyant and unapologetic, made the edges of your anxiety blur. You were tucked away in a corner booth at your favorite cafe, his long legs brushing yours under the table as he speared your last bite of cake with his fork. You swatted at him, mock-offended, but his grin was so wide, so annoyingly genuine, that you couldn’t help but laugh. Gojo had this way of making you feel like the center of his universe, and after four months, you were hopelessly, undeniably in love.

“I’m telling you,” he drawled, tilting his head back dramatically, “you’re the only person who doesn’t find my charm overwhelming.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “Oh, believe me, you’re overwhelming. Just not in the way you think.”

It was easy, being with him. Too easy. You excused yourself to the bathroom, still smiling, still warm, still thinking about the way his thumb had grazed yours when he handed your the cup of tea earlier. But when you returned, you froze just outside the booth.

“...I can’t believe she still hasn’t figured it out.”

“That’s the point of a bet, idiot,” another voice chimed in, one you recognized as Geto’s.

“Yeah, but four months? That’s dedication,” someone else snickered.

Your stomach dropped.

“It’s Gojo. He always has to win,” Geto said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “I mean, she’s cute, but still... a bet’s a bet.”

The air seemed to suck out of the room. Your hand tightened on the strap of your bag as your chest constricted, bile rising in your throat.

Bet? Bet?

Your feet felt like lead as you forced yourself forward. You didn’t look at any of them, didn’t dare meet Gojo’s eyes as you muttered something about not feeling well and left. He texted you an hour later, asking where you'd gone. You stared at his message for ten minutes before replying,

-“Period cramps. Really bad.”

His response came almost immediately: “You should’ve said something! Want me to come over?”

You stared at your phone, fingers trembling as you typed out, “No. I’m fine.”

Dry. Short. Controlled. Your heart wasn’t in it.

When you finally made it back to your apartment, you collapsed onto the couch and screamed into the cushions until your throat was raw. How could he? How could they? The whole group—your friends—had known and said nothing. Your tears burned, but fury burned hotter. Your mind replayed every moment, every kiss, every laugh. How much of it had been real?

The week that followed was suffocating. Gojo’s texts came in, as lively and obnoxious as always, but you gave him nothing in return.

-“Morning! Did you sleep okay?” -“Fine.” -“Want to grab dinner tonight? My treat 😉” -“Busy.”

He called once. You let it ring until it stopped.

At work, you barely acknowledged him. He’d saunter up to your desk, his usual grin plastered on his face, but your responses were curt, your eyes glued to your screen.

“Hey, you good? You’ve been acting weird.”

You looked up at him, expression blank. “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine.

The next group hangout was unbearable. They were all there, laughing and joking like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t all played you for a fool. You were quiet, cold, your presence an icicle in their usual warmth.

“Hey, let’s grab a drink,” Gojo said, nudging your arm.

You stared at him, your jaw tight, before jerking your head toward a quiet corner. “We need to talk.”

He blinked but followed you, his usual confidence faltering under your glare. “What’s—”

“I’m done,” you said, loud enough that the others turned to look-god you wanted to humiliate him. “I don’t have time for your bullshit, Gojo. Your childish, manipulative, disgusting behavior.”

His eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. The bet.” Your voice cracked on the word, but you pressed on, relentless. “Four months of my life, and it was a goddamn bet? Was it worth it, Satoru? Did you win?”

The color drained from his face. “Wait—how—”

“And you,” you snapped, turning to the rest of them. “All of you knew, didn’t you? You’re all assholes. Every single one of you. I trusted you, and you laughed behind my back.”

“Wait, it wasn’t—” Geto started, you cut him off with a glare that could shatter glass.

“I’m done,” you repeated, voice trembling with rage. “Have a nice life.”

You didn’t wait for a response, didn’t look back as you stormed out. Your chest felt like it was caving in, but for the first time in days, you could breathe.

Blocking them was the first thing she did when she got home. Every single one of them. Instagram, Twitter, Facebook (who even uses that anymore??), WhatsApp, even Spotify—gone. You didn’t want any trace of them in your life. No drunken messages. No half-assed apologies. No reminders of what you'd lost, what they’d taken from you.

Your phone buzzed relentlessly for the first few hours. Calls, texts, notifications from burner accounts, and even an email with the subject line, "Please, just talk to me." You deleted it without opening it. You didn’t owe him—any of them—anything.

The silence that followed was both a relief and a weight. Days stretched into a week, then two, and while you were still raw, still angry, you were learning how to exist in the emptiness they left behind.

Gojo, on the other hand, was unraveling.

At first, he was sure it was a misunderstanding. You'd cool off, he thought. You'd always had a fiery temper, but you weren't cruel. You wouldn’t just cut him off.

Except you did.

When he showed up at your apartment with a bouquet of sunflowers—the kind you loved—you didn’t answer the door. He stood there for half an hour, knocking and calling your name until a neighbor threatened to call the cops. He left the flowers on your doorstep, only to find them in the trash the next day, petals wilting, stems bent.

His texts became desperate.

"I messed up. Please, just let me explain." "I know you're mad, but I swear, it wasn’t like that." "I… I miss you. Can we just talk? Please?"

You read them all. Deleted every single one without replying.

At work, he tried to corner you in the break room, but you turned on your heel and walked out without a word. During a meeting, he sat across from you, staring holes into you as if his gaze alone could break your silence. But you didn’t look at him once.

One evening, he left a note on your desk: "Meet me on the rooftop after work. I just want to talk." You crumpled it into a ball and tossed it in the trash right in front of him.

The rest of their friend group tried to intervene. Geto texted you a half-hearted, "I know we messed up. Can we talk? I’ll explain." You blocked him immediately.

Shoko showed up at her apartment unannounced, knocking softly and saying through the door, “Hey, I just want to say I’m sorry. We didn’t mean for it to go this far—”

“Go away.” Your voice was cold, flat. You didn’t wait to hear Shoko’s reply before turning up your music to drown her out.

Gojo hit his breaking point one night when he sent her a long, rambling voice note. His voice was rough, almost frantic.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this. The bet—it wasn’t supposed to mean anything! I wasn’t supposed to… to feel this way about you. But I do. God, I do. And now I’ve ruined it. I ruined us. I know I can’t fix it, but please, just… just tell me how to make it right. I’ll do anything.”

You listened to it exactly once. Not to feel anything, but to make sure you weren't imagining the crack in his voice, the sound of him breaking- you almost thought about answering. Maybe there was a valid excuse- no.

It should’ve satisfied you. It didn’t. You deleted it.

Weeks turned into months, and Gojo still couldn’t let go. He went through every stage of grief, cycling between anger, guilt, and desperation. He replayed every moment they’d shared, trying to pinpoint where he’d gone wrong, where he could’ve fixed it before it fell apart.

But you had moved on—or at least, you made it look like you had. Your Instagram was private now, your profile picture replaced with something generic. Your Spotify playlists—once filled with songs you'd joked were about him—were gone. You were a ghost, haunting him in your absence.

And of course, at their next group hangout, you weren't there.

“She’s done with us,” Shoko said quietly, picking at the label on her beer.

Gojo didn’t respond. He was staring at his phone, scrolling through their old messages, reading your words over and over again like they were the only pieces of you he had left.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit.” “I trusted you.” “Have a nice life.”

He wasn’t sure which hurt more: the words you'd said or the ones you never would again.

You were not built for betrayal.

Not this kind, anyway.

The world felt as if it had been turned upside down. Each breath dragged its weight through your ribs, and your skin burned with the realization, a gnawing, buzzing kind of agony that spread like wildfire.

Suguru had been laughing.

Laughing.

“Come on, don’t look so upset,” he’d said the day before, his honeyed voice sweet with mockery. “You’ve been fun. More fun than I thought you’d be.”

The room had frozen. Everyone had frozen. Satoru, with his cocky grin faltering but still plastered in place. Shoko, lips pressed so tightly they’d gone pale. Even Nanami had avoided your eyes. They all knew.

The truth clawed its way into your mind, carving a jagged wound: you were a bet. An experiment. Entertainment. The words replayed themselves in your head over and over, drilling into the cracks of your soul. More fun than I thought you’d be.

And Suguru had led the charge. The man whose quiet kindness, whose quiet smiles, you’d clung to like a lifeline. Who’d called you “special” in the dim quiet of late-night conversations. Who’d made you feel seen.

It was nothing. You were nothing.

*-*

That night, you hadn’t cried. Tears would’ve been too easy, too human. Instead, you’d locked yourself in your dorm, let the cold silence settle into your bones, and stared at the ceiling until the walls blurred into one endless void.

What had been the point? Of everything? Every joke, every shared drink, every time Suguru had rested his chin on his hand and watched you with that glimmer of something in his dark eyes—what had it all been for?

The cruelest part wasn’t even the lie. It was the tiny seed of hope buried deep in your chest, stubbornly whispering: he didn’t mean it. Not entirely. Maybe they made him do it.

You hated that hope.

Hated it almost as much as you hated Suguru himself.

You couldn’t face them the next day. You hadn’t slept. You barely remembered dragging yourself to a bar off-campus, ordering drink after drink until everything blurred.

You hadn’t even noticed the curse until it was too late.

It was stupid, really. They taught you this in your first year: never wander drunk. Never let your guard down, no matter where you were. But you’d been so hollow, so angry. Maybe some part of you had wanted to stumble onto something. Wanted it to hurt.

The curse had been waiting, a writhing, monstrous thing. You were too slow, too uncoordinated to summon even the faintest spark of your cursed energy.

Its claws ripped through your chest. Its teeth found your neck. And all you could think about, in those last agonizing seconds, was Suguru. His face when he’d laughed. The way his eyes had gleamed with amusement.

You didn’t scream.

*-*

They found your body the next morning.

Shoko identified it first. She didn’t speak, didn’t flinch, just stared at the mangled ruin of what you’d been. Suguru didn’t understand at first—didn’t want to understand.

“Who is it?” His voice was calm, sharp. Detached.

When Shoko turned to him, her expression empty, he knew.

His body moved on its own, shoulders tense, hands trembling. He fell to his knees beside you, eyes wide and unseeing as they traced the jagged edges of torn flesh and drying blood.

It didn’t feel real. You were so…still. So quiet.

Suguru thought about the night before, about your face when he’d laughed, the hurt in your eyes that he’d ignored. A hand pressed against his chest, his cursed energy stuttering with each ragged breath.

“You’re lying,” he whispered. “It’s not her.”

No one answered.

*-*

The funeral was quiet.

Closed casket. Your body too mangled to be seen.

Suguru didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He didn’t do anything, really, except sit and stare at the ground, arms folded tight over his chest as if trying to hold himself together.

Satoru tried to talk to him afterward, but Suguru didn’t hear him. Didn’t hear anything beyond the blood pounding in his ears. You were gone. Gone.

He remembered your laugh. Your voice, soft but steady. The way you’d touched his arm when you thought he wasn’t listening.

The grief hit him in waves. Slow at first, then all at once, crashing over him in an endless tide.

And when it was too much—when the weight of it crushed the air from his lungs—something inside him snapped.

The laughter from that night wouldn’t stop echoing in his head. His laughter.

You’d deserved better than this.

Better than him.

Better than all of them.

That was the day Suguru Geto stopped being human.

The regret ate him alive, twisted and burned inside him until all that was left was rage. At the world. At himself. At everything.

He’d find a way to fix it. To burn it all down and rebuild something where people like you wouldn’t exist just to be broken.

But no matter what he built, he knew one thing:

Your laughter would never fill the silence again.

The room was alive with celebration—the sweet burn of sake, raucous laughter of Sukuna’s inner circle, the murmurs of passing servants. You stepped in, the familiar ache in your chest softened by the sight of him. Sukuna, draped in the loose elegance of his kimono, surrounded by his boisterous companions. His crimson eyes caught yours briefly, and his grin sharpened—wolfish, commanding.

He had always been a man of many faces: a conqueror, a husband, a god in flesh. And yet, for all his unyielding power, you believed there was a version of him that had chosen you. The one who watched you in the quiet mornings with a gaze softer than his cruel reputation allowed. The one who, when alone with you, could almost seem human.

You believed in that man.

Until tonight.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t figured it out yet,” one of the men drawled, drunk on his own amusement.

“Patience,” another snickered. “It’s more fun this way.”

Laughter rippled through the group, but the words fell like stone in your chest.

Figured it out?

The haze of the room blurred. Your hand trembled as you gripped the edge of the screen door. Sukuna’s voice cut through the noise, the resonance of it always unmistakable.

“She’s sharp, though. Too sharp to not catch on soon. You’ve already cost me enough sake with your doubts, Ryota.”

Another bout of laughter.

The world stilled. Your heart was a drumbeat, steady but deafening. Each word he spoke was a dagger slicing through the fabric of your reality.

A bet.

Your knees threatened to buckle as the pieces began falling into place, sharp and unforgiving. The glances exchanged when you entered a room. The veiled smirks. The lingering silence whenever you asked too many questions.

They all knew.

Every. Single. One.

You stepped forward, the warmth of the room no longer reaching you. “What is this?”

The laughter stopped abruptly. Heads turned in your direction. Sukuna, ever the commanding presence, leaned back lazily against the wall, his lips curving into something dangerously close to a smirk.

“Ah, my little wife,” he said, voice like honey over steel. “What brings you here?”

You ignored the question. Your voice was a whisper, sharp as a blade. “What bet?”

The silence was suffocating. Even the drunken fools who moments ago were basking in their audacity now had the decency to look away.

“Tell me,” you demanded, stepping closer, your voice breaking on the edges.

Sukuna tilted his head, as if considering you, weighing whether you deserved the truth.

When he spoke, it was almost casual. “A simple wager, nothing more. They doubted I could make you mine.” His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t name—amusement? Pride? Indifference? “I proved them wrong.”

The room swayed. You thought you might vomit.

“All of you…” You turned, your gaze sweeping over the room, locking on each face. The betrayal carved deeper with every averted glance. “You all knew.”

No one spoke.

Your breath hitched as you turned back to Sukuna. “You let me believe this was real,” you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips.

He rose slowly, deliberately, towering over you as he always did. “Careful, wife,” he said, his tone low, a warning wrapped in silk. “You are in my favor now, but that can change.”

The anger burned bright, but something colder seeped in beneath it. A numbness, hollow and vast.

You stepped back, shoulders straightening, the fire in your eyes extinguished. “Of course, my lord,” you said, bowing your head. “My apologies for the outburst.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the shift. “What—”

You didn’t wait for him to finish. With the grace and composure befitting a lady of your station, you turned and walked away.

*-*

The days that followed were excruciating in their monotony. You became a ghost of yourself—a woman of duty, of decorum, of practiced neutrality.

Sukuna, in all his arrogance, thought little of it at first. He smirked when you would rise from a conversation and leave the room upon his arrival. He found amusement in the way your laughter would fall silent the moment his shadow crossed the threshold.

But over time, the smirk faded.

He began to notice the absence of something he hadn’t realized he craved. The warmth of your smile, the brightness in your eyes when you looked at him—it was gone. Replaced by a cold civility that made his jaw tighten and his fists clench.

Servants whispered of the change. You, who had once breathed life into the grand halls of his estate, now walked its corridors like a specter. Even when he tried to corner you, to draw out the spark that had once burned so fiercely, you evaded him with polite indifference.

“Stop,” he growled one evening, grabbing your wrist as you turned to leave the dining room.

You froze, the contact sending a shiver up your spine. Slowly, you turned to face him, your expression unreadable.

“Yes, my lord?”

The words, spoken so softly, so devoid of the fire he had come to expect, made his chest tighten.

“Enough of this,” he snapped, his grip tightening. “Speak your mind.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “There is nothing to say, my lord. I am your wife. I will fulfill my duties as such. Beyond that…” You gently pulled your wrist from his grasp. “There is nothing more.”

It was a lie, of course.

There was anger, still, buried deep within the hollowed-out space where your love for him had once lived. There was pain, sharp and unyielding. There was betrayal, an ache so profound you feared it would consume you if you let it.

But you would not give him the satisfaction of seeing any of it.

And so, you walked away, leaving Sukuna in the silence of his own making.

The house grew colder with every passing day. And though he would never admit it, not even to himself, Sukuna found that he missed the warmth.

*-*

The nights at Sukuna’s estate were long, oppressive, and heavy with silence. It gnawed at him like a dull blade, chipping away at his carefully crafted veneer of control.

He had thought the hunts would help. The thrill of the chase, the satisfying crunch of bone beneath his blade.

But the emptiness followed him, relentless and mocking.

Her absence haunted him. Not in the physical sense—she was still here, still his wife, still dutiful in the way she moved through the estate. But she had become untouchable, locked away behind that maddening neutrality. No matter how he raged, no matter how he tried to provoke her, she gave him nothing.

Sukuna was many things—a tyrant, a god, a king—but patient was not one of them.

So, when the sun dipped low and the moon bathed his estate in its cold light, Sukuna had finally had enough.

*-*

You were in your chambers, the night air cool against your skin as you slipped your arms out of the sleeves of your kimono. The day had been uneventful, like all the others since that night. You had perfected the art of existing without feeling, moving through life as if the pieces of your shattered heart hadn’t left jagged edges that threatened to cut you open from the inside.

You were pulling the fabric down from your shoulders when the door slammed open, the force rattling the delicate wooden frame.

You gasped, clutching your half-discarded kimono to your chest as Sukuna stormed in, his crimson eyes blazing with fury.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, your voice trembling as you scrambled to cover yourself.

He didn’t answer. In an instant, he was on you, his four arms grabbing hold of your shoulders, your waist, your wrists. His grip wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t cruel either. It was desperate.

You froze, your mind racing. Was this it? Had your quiet defiance finally pushed him too far?

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

He barked out a laugh, sharp and humorless. “Kill you? Don’t tempt me, woman.” He shook you, his claws biting lightly into your skin. “What do you want from me? Tell me how to fix this!”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw frustration in his voice. “Fix… this?”

“Yes!” he snarled, his face inches from yours. “I’ll kill them, every last one of those idiots if that’s what you want. I’ll burn this entire estate to the ground if it will bring you back. Just tell me what the hell you want!”

Your chest tightened, a whirlwind of emotions surging through you. Anger, disbelief, a flicker of something you refused to name.

“You think you can just—” your voice cracked, and you shook your head, trying to find the words. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? You made me a game, Sukuna. A bet. Do you know what that feels like? To be nothing more than a joke to the man who swore to protect me?”

His grip faltered for a moment, his gaze searching yours. “You were never a joke,” he said, his voice low, almost quiet.

You laughed bitterly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Not again.”

“I’m not lying,” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. I don’t care how it started. I don’t care about those fools and their bets. I care about you.”

The words were a punch to the gut. You wanted to believe him, wanted so desperately to cling to the possibility that this wasn’t all a lie. But the wound was still fresh, and your pride was a shield you weren’t ready to lower.

“If I find out you’ve lied to me again,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute, “I’ll go where you can’t follow. You know where I mean.”

His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “Don’t.”

“I mean it,” you said, meeting his gaze with a fire you thought you’d lost. “I’ll end this. I’ll end me.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your words hanging between you like a blade.

Then, suddenly, he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It was rough and demanding, filled with the fury and desperation that had been building between you for weeks. You resisted at first, your hands pushing against his chest, but the dam inside you broke. Your fingers curled into his robes, pulling him closer as you poured every ounce of your anger, your heartbreak, your longing into that kiss.

It was messy and heated, a clash of tongues and teeth and raw emotion. When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his breathing ragged, you could see the unspoken apology in his eyes.

“Never again,” you whispered, your voice shaky but firm. “I mean it, Sukuna.”

“Never,” he promised, his hands gripping you like you might vanish if he let go.

The tension between you snapped like a bowstring, giving way to something primal and all-consuming. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the futon in the corner of the room. The anger and betrayal still simmered beneath the surface, but for now, it was drowned out by the sheer intensity of your connection.

*-*

Later, as you lay tangled in the sheets, your head resting against his chest, you broke the silence.

“I want them all dead,” you said softly.

He didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

You tilted your head to look at him, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “You’ll regret this, you know. I’ll never let you live it down.”

His lips curved into a smirk of his own, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

And though the wounds between you were far from healed, for the first time in weeks, the room didn’t feel so cold.

It hits like a slap, sudden and cold, pulling the breath right from your lungs.

Choso is staring at you, his eyes wide with that hollow, pitiful look you once thought was endearing. His voice is shaky as he tries to say something, anything, but you can barely hear it over the roar in your ears, the rush of blood pounding in your head. The betrayal tastes bitter in your mouth—sharp, metallic, and sour.

“Y/N, listen to me. It was just—” he starts, but you cut him off, your voice trembling but loud, louder than you ever thought it could be.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, taking a step back from him. Every inch of space between you and him feels like a mile, a chasm too deep to ever cross. “Don’t you dare tell me it was just some stupid bet.”

Choso's eyes flicker with confusion, the subtle tremor in his hands betraying the calm he tries to project. “It’s not— it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

You take a slow, trembling breath, staring at him, trying to ground yourself in the mess of emotions that are tearing you apart. Your mind is a whirlwind, flashes of memories twisting like knives in your chest. The late-night talks, the stolen kisses, the way he’d smile when he thought you weren’t looking. It was all so real, so pure.

But it wasn’t.

Your throat feels tight, your hands trembling at your sides as you finally piece it together. You’d been a bet. A joke, a wager. A way to pass the time. And worse? Everyone you called your friends—everyone you thought you knew, all those warm, intimate moments you shared—knew about it. Knew, and never once told you.

It’s impossible to swallow, the truth. How could they? How could he?

The pieces fall into place with a sickening clarity, sharp shards of realization that lodge deep in your chest. The subtle tension in the air every time you were around them. The way they’d glance at each other when you walked into the room, their smiles too tight. Too practiced.

Your stomach churns, bile rising as your thoughts spiral, the images of them—the rest of the group, the ones you thought had your back—flash before you. Megumi’s quiet looks, Nobara’s silence, Yuji’s forced cheer—they all knew. They all stood by, playing their parts. Feeding you the lies, watching as you fell deeper and deeper into Choso’s world.

Choso. His name tastes like poison now. How could you have been so stupid? So blind?

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, but his apology feels like acid against your skin. His hands are outstretched, as if he could reach you, as if he could fix what’s broken. But he can’t. He never could.

“You’re sorry?” The laughter bubbles up in your throat, but it’s not joyful, not even bitter—it’s hollow. Empty. “You’re sorry? Do you even understand what you did, Choso? Do you understand what you all did?”

His lips quiver as he tries to get the words out. “I never wanted it to go this far—”

“Then why didn’t you stop it?” Your voice cracks, and it’s like a scream trying to claw its way free. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

Choso’s face contorts, a flash of panic in his eyes as he steps closer to you. “I… I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“I hate you now.” You can’t even hear your own words, the weight of them crashing down on you, but it feels so good to say. So cathartic. The relief is sharp and cold as it spreads through you.

“But I love you,” he pleads, his voice breaking. There’s desperation in his eyes now, a frantic need, like he’s begging for you to just… fix it. But there’s no fixing this. Not anymore.

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t you dare tell me you love me when you treated me like a fucking game. How could I ever trust you again?”

Choso’s face twists, the desperation morphing into something darker, almost wounded. “You don’t mean that. Please, Y/N, please don’t leave me. I’ll do anything—just—just don’t walk away.”

But you can’t stop walking. You turn, slowly, not sparing him another glance. Not sparing anyone another glance.

Because they all knew. Every last one of them.

And they didn’t care enough to stop it.

Your footsteps echo in the hollow silence, the air thick with the weight of everything that’s broken, everything that’s ruined. Your chest is tight, the ache in your heart gnawing at you like a thousand tiny daggers. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You can’t feel.

You don’t know how you get home, don’t know how you fall into bed, curling in on yourself, as if the space could swallow you whole and take away all the hurt.

But it doesn’t. The hurt is there, with you, like a ghost haunting your every waking thought.

They all knew.

And it doesn’t matter that they’re sorry now. It doesn’t matter that Choso is sitting in front of your door, his voice trembling through the wood as he calls your name, begging you to open up.

He’s sorry. They’re all sorry.

But it’s too late. Because in the end, you were never the one. You were never anything more than the punchline to a joke you didn’t even know you were part of.

And no amount of sorrys can take that away.

A Bet. A Dare. A Life.

The room is suffocating. You can feel the heat in your chest, in your stomach—rising, boiling. It burns you like the sharpest ache, and you can’t stop the way your breath hitches every time you inhale. This is wrong. Everything is wrong.

You should have never trusted them. Never trusted him.

It started as a harmless fling. That’s what you thought, at least. But when you looked at him, when he looked at you with that grin—so open, so honest—you could’ve sworn that maybe, just maybe, it was something more. He wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t like the rest of them, the men who flitted through your life with no real intention of staying, their interests as fickle as the seasons.

But Shiu Kong was different. He was soft in his brutal honesty. He was clever, kind in his own way—he made you feel special. That’s what you thought. That’s what you told yourself, over and over again.

And now... now you were nothing more than a joke.

The words come crashing down on you, hitting like a slap to the face. "It was a bet. A dare. You were a dare." Shiu’s voice, like poison, laced with something deeper, something far more disturbing than you ever imagined.

You couldn’t have heard that right. You must be misunderstanding. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into yours like they always had. But there was something more behind them now. Something that wasn't there before.

“A dare?” you whisper, too stunned to make it louder, though every cell in your body screams for you to scream. To shout. You force your hand to your mouth, to keep it together, to not let it slip.

“Yeah,” he responds with that same nonchalance, the way he always spoke to you—like it was just another casual thing. “Me and the guys? We... we made a bet. Whoever could get you to fall for them, win the challenge.” His gaze flickers to the side, like he’s waiting for something, some kind of reaction.

And that’s when it hits you. Every damn thing that ever felt real, every moment you shared with him, every laugh, every quiet, stolen glance, was just... staged. It wasn’t real.

He was playing you.

Your body goes cold, a chill taking over your skin. You look around the room, your pulse quickening, and there they are—the others. The rest of the group. They’re watching. Watching you. Watching him. Like it’s all some cruel game, and you’re the only one who didn’t get the memo.

How long? How long did they know? How long had they watched you stumble, watched you let yourself believe in a lie, and said nothing?

You hate them. You fucking hate them.

"Is this... is this what you wanted?" You can feel the venom in your voice, feel the anger pouring out of you like a slow burn. "You all knew, didn’t you? You knew and said nothing. You watched me fall for him, for you, and said nothing. You watched me trust you—trust all of you—and did nothing."

A heavy silence falls. Not a single one of them meets your gaze.

Shiu’s fingers twitch at his side, like he wants to say something, but he’s scared to move. You know him. You know him well enough to see that hesitation. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t care.

"You," you sneer at him, your hands shaking now, trembling with a fury that makes it hard to stay upright. "You were the one I trusted the most. You were supposed to be different."

You feel a lump in your throat, that sickening ache of betrayal tightening like a noose. “You used me.” The words feel like knives. “You all used me.”

His eyes darken even further, but he doesn’t speak. Not even when you let the words break out, shattering the calm, composed mask you’d tried to wear for so long.

“What is it?” You laugh, bitterly. “What’s so special about me, huh? Was I just a joke to you?” Your voice cracks, but you can’t stop it. You don’t want to stop. “Was this all just a fucking joke?!”

“Y/N,” Shiu finally speaks, and his voice cracks too. You can hear the guilt in it, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

“Don’t you dare try to make this sound like it’s anything other than what it is. You used me. You all used me. All for a damn bet.” The words taste like acid on your tongue. “You made me feel like... like I mattered. You made me feel like you cared. And for what? So you could laugh at me behind my back?"

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. The room spins.

But the most painful thing? The one thing that breaks you all over again, deeper than the betrayal, deeper than the lies, is the way Shiu won’t let you leave.

You know what he’s doing before he even takes a step forward. He’s blocking the door. Like a lion protecting its kill, but you’re not his prey.

You back away, your breath quickening. “Let me out.”

“No,” he says, his voice so quiet now, so broken that it almost makes you want to tear your ears off. “I won’t let you go.”

You stare at him, the desperation in his eyes more than you can bear. “What did you think would happen, Shiu? You think I’m just going to let you walk away with this? You think you can keep me here? Like I’m some... some thing you can possess? You’re out of your mind.”

He steps closer, and you want to push him away, scream, break down, but you won’t. Not now. Not ever.

But he’s already reached for you. His fingers brush your arm, and you shudder, your body recoiling from the contact.

“I didn’t want it to go like this.” His voice cracks again, quieter. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Y/N.”

“You already did.” Your chest tightens, the words coming out as a whisper, as soft and broken as you feel. “You already did.”

You should walk away. You should turn around, tear through the door, never look back. But your feet won’t move. Not now. Not anymore. Because somehow, you’re still here.

You feel the weight of it. Every word. Every lie. It settles on your chest like an unbearable pressure, and you wonder—if you had known, would you have walked away? Would you have let them all slip through your fingers before they did this to you?

You don’t know.

But you do know one thing for sure.

You are done.

It wasn’t just that Hiruguma had lied to you.

It wasn’t just that you had been deceived, manipulated, and toyed with for weeks. It was the realization that every single person you trusted—your friends, the people you leaned on, the ones you thought had your back—had known about it. They all knew about the bet.

The words echoed in your mind, ringing like a bell of betrayal.

“I was dared to date you.”

You stared at him, still trying to process what he had just confessed. Hiruguma stood there in front of you, hands clenched by his sides, gaze trained downward, avoiding yours. There was no defensiveness, no pride in his eyes—just guilt, guilt that sank deep into the pit of his stomach.

There was nothing in his face but honesty, and yet that was the one thing that made you feel even more sick.

"You’re telling me," you whispered, a venomous laugh escaping from your throat, "that you were a bet? That everything we’ve done... that everything I’ve felt... was just some joke to you?"

Hiruguma swallowed hard, his throat constricting at your words. His voice was soft but steady when he answered. "I was dared. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you. I didn’t think I would. But… I did. It became real."

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but it made your skin crawl. It felt like nails on a chalkboard.

A part of you, somewhere deep inside, wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that maybe this wasn’t all just some sick joke. That maybe he hadn’t done it because of the dare. That maybe, somehow, this could still work. But the other part of you, the part that still couldn’t breathe properly, the part that felt like you were drowning in an ocean of betrayal, knew better.

You’ve been played.

You clutched the hem of your shirt, fighting the tears that had already started to well up in your eyes. You had to hold it together—just a little longer. You didn’t want him to see how much he’d hurt you. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deep the knife had cut. But as the anger and betrayal boiled up inside you, the words started pouring out before you could stop them.

“Are you kidding me? And what about them?” You gestured violently toward the group of friends that had always been around you—Yuji, Megumi, Nobara. You couldn’t even look at them now. “They all knew, didn’t they?”

Hiruguma’s silence said everything. He didn’t need to speak; his lowered eyes were enough to confirm what you already knew. The rest of the group had kept it from you. They all knew. They all watched. They all let you fall for this, and they did nothing.

They’re complicit.

They lied to you, too.

"Why?!" Your voice cracked. "Why would they do this? Why would you do this to me?"

You could feel the tears beginning to fall despite your best efforts to hold them back. But no matter how hard you tried, they came, and soon enough you couldn’t breathe properly. It was the worst feeling in the world—the overwhelming sensation of being so utterly deceived that you couldn’t even trust your own mind anymore.

Hiruguma stepped closer, but you backed away instinctively, your chest tightening. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to make you feel this way,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I’ve always wanted you. I wanted to be with you... not because of a dare, but because I—"

“Shut up!" You snapped, your voice harsh, sharp. "Don’t you dare make this about you now. Don’t you dare."

His shoulders slumped, and his face contorted with remorse. He looked like he was physically crumbling, but it did nothing for you. All you could feel was the weight of the betrayal, pushing you deeper into the ground with every breath.

You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back the floodgates. You couldn’t look at him. Not now. Not when everything about him felt like a lie. Your thoughts were a mess—a tornado of anger, hurt, confusion, and disbelief. It felt like everything you had been living was ripped away in a single moment.

"You should’ve just left," you muttered bitterly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "You should’ve told me the truth from the start. Then maybe I wouldn’t have—" You paused, your voice breaking before you could say it. "Maybe I wouldn’t have fallen for you."

Hiruguma looked stricken, his face pale. He stepped forward again, but you didn’t budge. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to be closer or farther away. His presence was a paradox now—both a comfort and a source of pain.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything," he whispered. "But I swear, this... the bet—it doesn’t matter anymore. I want you. I love you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry for that. I’ll do anything... anything to make it right.”

You could feel him watching you, could feel his eyes on you like a weight that wouldn’t lift. But you couldn’t face him—not now. Not when everything you thought you knew had been shattered. Your thoughts screamed for clarity, but all you could do was stand there, numb, overwhelmed by the quiet ache in your chest. The emptiness where love once lived.

“You can’t just take back what you did,” you finally whispered, the words coming out hoarse. “You can’t just undo all the lies. All the people who knew—who watched me fall and did nothing.”

His eyes went wide, and he immediately looked to the others, your friends, who had been standing off to the side, lingering like ghosts in the background. “I know,” he said, voice low and broken. “I know they were wrong, too. They should have told you. I should’ve told you.”

You wiped your face again, taking a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I need time. I need space," you said, a trembling note in your voice. You were shaking all over, your emotions a storm you couldn’t control.

But deep down, as much as it hurt, as much as you hated everything that had happened, there was a part of you—small, fragile—that couldn’t completely let go. Not yet. Not when everything had been so real between you. Not when the love you felt for him had meant something, had been real for you.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, voice so quiet you almost missed it.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you closed your eyes, taking in a shaky breath.

“No,” you said after a long pause, finally looking up at him with wet eyes. “I don’t want you to leave. But we... we have to start over. From scratch. Like we’ve never met before. If we’re going to do this, it has to be all the way. No lies. No more games.”

His expression softened, and there was something in his eyes—something you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t relief, not exactly. But it was an acknowledgment. A silent promise.

"I swear. No more games," he said, his voice steady and firm. "I’ll do whatever it takes. No more bets. Just us."

And with that, the first fragile seed of hope began to take root inside you, despite everything. You weren’t sure how long it would take for things to heal, or even if they would—but for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something real to begin.

A/N: this was wayyyyy too long, anyways yuhhh, i loved writing this! Thank you to the lovely anon who requested, i mean it, thank you to every anon who's sent me requests, y'all are too cute

Masterlist.

:)

[derpoprime]

going to hijack this post and join freely, giving out tags to anyone who wants to join. this is a long one. i will be monologuing as if this is the wisest thing any of you will ever hear.

this bad boy dates all the way back to around 2019-2020, i wanna say. however. my username used to be "derpoisderp", with different variations depending on what social media i was on. derpoiswriting, derpoisvibin, etc. etc. the list can't be traced back. i've changed them all to the current version of it at this point, which is unfortunate history loss. sad.

back when i started out on the internet, a humble bicurious gender liberal girl of whimsy, i wanted to be approachable and easy to picture talking with. everything i did and said embodied this agenda. including my username. i'm just a derp, i used to say, i don't have beef with no one. i'm here to be dumb and love my friends. don't expect much of me was in every bio i ever had, it was imperative everyone saw me as utterly harmless.

fast forward a few years later, in the years 2021-2023, i was now looking for cooler branding (and was a tyrant evil boy on the side). i looked up the name derpo because, although an outdated word, i wanted to keep it; i know how much of a perfectionist i am, i'll never find anything else to my standard. quotev is a relatively small site. with a small userbase. there were... ~3-4 other people with the name derpo. of course, i jumped on that. i was one of the few who survived, and nobody did it like me — course there was only one way after that. i declared myself derpo prime. the prime of derpos.

i assume no one else wants the title because it's "cringe" now, which is also perfect for my core deep hatred of calling things "cringe" "bad" or saying you should never get near a thing or crowd / consume a media because you don't like what story it tells you. what voice it has. i personally am a hater of many things and will tell you so willingly and bluntly, but i believe all of those things exist with me in this world for a purpose just as important / benign as mine or a reason as explainable as mine.

for example — and i state this over and over again so people are aware — i don't enjoy sanitization or purifying or the avoidance of consuming things because "bad message / topics". but there is a whole community of people who do care about the cleanness of what they consume, clearly, i've seen them (they talk shit about south park, it's inconceivable to me). and that's a different sphere than where i am. and i like that they exist, because it makes one curious and aware that this world is a big place. humans are factions within factions within factions.

anyway. if that sounds high horsey, let it be known i consume trash drama media for fun on my offtime and avoid otome games like the plague. i am very not free from casual human overexaggeration of hate / ironic love. back to topic. i also considered potentially leaving derpo at some point, keeping prime, and jutting my name into the handle for a more "sleek, professional feel".

primolan. i just don't know if it has any personality.

Tag game🎉

Tag your moots and ask them where they got the idea for their tumblr accounts name!

For my name it was a nickname I was giving back in middleschool! One of our teacher had a system where we worked with 'wifi' eachtime we talked in class we lost a bar of the "wifi" (was a weird joke and we never held count on that) All the kids usually joked if they needed 'wifi' , they would borrow mine if they wanted to talk more. (I was incredibly shy in middle school, I only talked to like 3 people at school;^;)

They called me Ms. Wifi because of that. I just thought it would be funny if I put 'miss' instead of 'ms' because of my terrible actual wifi connection I have at home lol.

That's my story! Now moots, only if you guys want to, tell us your story.

Tags-> @slipping-lately @firequeenofficial @noagskryf @twinklstarrrr @halfbakedspuds @polterwasteist @rokushi-san @mygedagtes +anyone that sees this and wants to do this as well

[strayingawayy]

to love and be loved...

...the one where unrequited love is a bitch, but seungmin's there and he's warmth embodied

the world has always felt like an inside joke you were never let in on.

love, whatever that (bitch) meant, was a language you never quite learned to speak. you’d seen it in fleeting glances, in the way couples curled into each other on the campus lawn, in the tired smiles your mother gave you after a long day, in the way chan's eyes shined as he watched his drunk girlfriend blabber, in the silences between the notes of a tchaikovsky symphony... but you'd never felt it, not really. not in the way they wrote about in books or sang about in songs.

until her.

your best friend, your sun, your orbit. and for a while, you thought maybe this was it. maybe love was soft laughter in between classes and shared playlists and whispered secrets at 2 a.m. but then it started to hurt, like an ache that nestled itself into your bones and refused to leave. you wanted too much, more than what was yours to have. and you hated yourself for it and maybe you hated her too.

it was stupid. you knew it was. jealousy burned ugly inside you when she drifted too far, when she made plans without you, when she looked at someone else like maybe they were her orbit instead of you. you clenched your fists and swallowed it down, because what right did you have to feel this way?

and when you finally told her, when the words slipped out, raw and trembling, she had looked at you with those gentle, pitying eyes- and god, how you hated pity, especially on her.

“i love you,” she had said, “but not like that.”

it should have been enough. but it wasn’t.

so you did what you always did. you shut down. you built walls and sat behind them, watching as everyone you loved stood on the other side, too far to touch. within reach, just not enough.

...

"are you even listening?"

seungmin’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you blink up at him from where you’re hunched over your laptop, the words on the screen blurring into nothing.

"hmm?" you mumble, trying to sound present as you fiddle with your rings to ground yourself.

he sighs, leaning back in his chair with an exasperated look. "we’ve been working on this project for an hour and you’ve contributed exactly three words, and one of them was ‘ugh.’"

you offer him a weak smile. "it’s a very versatile word."

"yeah? so is ‘failure,’ which is what we’re gonna get if you don’t start helping." but his tone is lighter than his words, teasing in a way that feels like an invitation to breathe.

you roll your eyes, leaning back and letting out a long, tired sigh. "sorry, i’m just… tired."

over the past few months, kim seungmin aka the stupidly pretty infamous everyone's campus crush had begun hanging out with you. what started of as a fist bump after a successful group project blossomed into something more. and you'd be lying if you said you didn't find the sound of his footsteps after yours endearing. the way his shadow flickered besides yours during the late evenings you shared, the way his pupils only ever dilated when he saw either the campus dogs, or you.

seungmin watches you carefully, and something in his expression shifts. "like... physically tired? or existential crisis tired?"

you snort. "little bit of both."

"great, same." he nudges your arm with his elbow, voice softer now. "what’s going on?"

you hesitate. it’s easier to keep it all locked up, to pretend everything’s fine until it isn’t. but seungmin’s eyes are patient, steady. and something in you cracks, just a little and just enough.

"i just feel… exhausted. like i keep giving and giving and i don't even know if there's anything left." your voice wavers despite yourself. "and no one ever asks. no one ever sees it."

seungmin’s brows furrow, and then he says it, so simple it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. "i see it."

you blink. "what?"

"i see it," he repeats, quieter this time, hands fiddling with his sweater paws. god, fuck his little sweater paws. "you try so hard to keep everything together, but you never let anyone in. not really."

your throat tightens. "that’s because it’s easier that way."

"easier for who?" he asks, and the silence that follows feels heavier than anything else.

you don't have an answer. or maybe you do, but it’s buried too deep.

he sighs, nudging you again, this time gentler. "look, i know you’re used to dealing with things on your own. but you don’t have to, y’know? not with me."

something in your chest stirs, unfamiliar and terrifying and you find the words slipping out from your mouth before you can stop them. "why do you even care?"

he smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "i’m just hoping if i stick around long enough, you’ll finally contribute more than ‘ugh’ to this project."

you let out a weak laugh, and it feels... nice. lighter.

"besides," he adds, voice somehow even quieter now, "i care because it’s you."

your heart stumbles over itself.

...

time passes, like it always does. slowly, surely, the sharp edges inside you soften. your best friend's absence doesn’t ache as much anymore, and seungmin. seungmin, who never demands, never pushes, just is, starts to fill the spaces she left behind in ways you never expected.

you realise it one afternoon, sitting across from him in the library because somehow you're always in the library. it's easier to exist there with him, between books and silent breathes. he’s flipping through a textbook, his lips pursed in concentration, and it hits you all at once.

love, real love, doesn’t have to be loud or all-consuming. sometimes, it’s just someone who shows up. someone who sees you even when you don’t want to be seen.

you exhale, a soft, shaky thing, and reach out to touch his hand. just lightly.

he looks up, surprised but not unhappy. "finally contributing?"

you smile, and this time, it’s real. "yeah. something like that."

and when his fingers curl around yours, you think that maybe, just maybe, you’re learning how to be loved.

[luminni]

Imagine Konig gets put on medical leave for some injury, it's minor but could get worse if not allowed to rest, so they put him on leave and he's just...not happy about it. He has nothing to do and is bored in his little flat, he thinks he might go crazy if he can't do something. So he starts working at a little corner store/cafe just to pass the time. Not his first choice but it's just a block away and he can make a little extra cash from it. Plus it's something he can do, a set of instructions and a way to complete them? That's kind of his whole thing. He doesn't take orders, god no, he's much too socially awkward for that. Instead he's behind the counter, making drinks and heating up pre-packaged croissant sandwiches. The only talking he ever has to do is barking out someone's name or order number to let them know it's ready, always with a sharp, gruff tone that makes him sound constantly pissed off when that's not the case. He's just a nervous man with a deep voice is all, his co-workers don't talk to him because they all think he hates them (which couldn't be further from the truth) and they don't think they've heard him say more than 2 words at a time. It doesn't really bother Konig though, he's just doing this to pass the time, keep his mind busy.

That is until you wonder into the shop one busy Monday morning. You wouldn't usually stop on your way to work but you were in such a rush this morning you forgot to eat breakfast. You duck into the bustling cafe and wait in line, not noticing the giant of a man behind the counter. He doesn't notice you either, he's too busy completing orders, until you step up to the till. His ears immediately perk up when he hears you order, your voice is so soft and sweet, politely making your order. Gently asking for one of the water bottles from the fridge, patient and kind despite him being sure you were probably in the same kind of rush as everyone else. He felt drawn to the gentle lull and cadence of the way you talked, your sweet "have a nice day!" Ringing in his head for a moment as he imagined you had said it directly to him. He stole a glance in your direction as you walked over to the pick up counter and you were as pretty as you sounded. Bundled up against the cold in a puffy jacket and over sized scarf that you buried your cold nose into. He was smitten, but more than that he was determined. Determined to be the one who would make your order and call it out. He rushed through his other orders and snagged yours just as one of his coworkers was reaching for it, turning away from them wordlessly. It had never been this hard for him to make a simple sandwich, now it felt like his large, clumsy fingers went in the opposite direction of where he wanted them. But he fumbled through it all the same, and when I came time to announce your order he couldn't bring himself to bark it out like he did the others. Your voice had been so sweet and he didn't want to startle you or scare you off. So with all the gentleness a 6'10" wall of muscle can manage, he called out your order, though it came out more a a whisper than anything. Some of his colleagues looked at him, they had never heard him use a tone of voice other than "Mildly annoyed". But he didn't care, he was focused solely on you and the way your eyes lit up at the sound, shuffling over to grab your food from him. You took the box and made eye contact with him, giving him a sweet "thank you very much" which he turned away from, unable to stand his nervousness when he was making eye contact. But uttering a still soft "...you're welcome" all the same. He just hopes you come back tomorrow or sometime before he's deployed again.

[genderqueerdykes]

For the transmasc voices: (tw suicidal thoughts, transandrophobia)

I'm messaging on behalf of my son. I'm NB, wife is transfem, our child is transmasc. He's only 11. He came out a few years ago, is allowed to freely explore and express, and at home he has a great support system.

But he has ALREADY struggled with suicidal thoughts, anxiety, and stress, not just from cishet classmates but from queer peers. He has ALREADY tried to APOLOGIZE for IDing as masc, due to intracommunity reactionary hate. We are ALREADY doing damage control, we have him in therapy, we make sure to celebrate him and lift him up at every opportunity.

He's fucking ELEVEN YEARS OLD and is already being heavily negatively stressed by our own fucking community. His PEERS are also, only 11-13 years old.

This intracommunity bullshit, this deliberate misandry and transandrophobia, is contagious. The children are ALWAYS watching and the vast majority of them do NOT have parents 'in the know' or even supportive, let alone any kind of digital supervision; they SEE YOU. They INTERNALIZE WHAT YOU SAY. They SPREAD IT and they are MIMICKING YOUR FIGHTS.

And when our community screams 'fuck men' 'men are trash' 'yes all men' 'they deserve this' those little caveats of 'oh but not trans men!!' don't actually do shit for anyone except make y'all pat yourselves on the back for being soooo progressive and inclusive. Worse still when they don't even bother with the caveats and just straight up refuse to ever consider nor allow anyone ELSE to consider the unique intersection (yes!! Intersectional fucking theory have y'all heard of it!!!) of both privilege and oppression experienced by transmascs, which is different from the unique *intersection* of oppressions experienced by transfems, which is still different from the unique *intersectional experiences* of still others, and insist no, actually, they're all only the same and actually only transfems can speak at all about any of this and trans men don't have unique experiences and can't have their own language and blah blah blah blah fucking blah.

I can literally see (and foot the bill for!) the harm y'all are doing to yourselves, each other, and to the next generation of queer kids and allies and I am so fucking tired of it. Reactionary hate is communal fucking poison and it ALWAYS involves friendly fire.

oh my god i am mortified but thank you so much for sending this. first of all, i wanted to deeply apologize for what is happening to your son, i have more to say about and to him later, but i want you to know i am very glad you chose to reach out. this affected me in a very real way. i'm not being funny here. a lot of asks don't really get to me, but this struck me like an arrow to the heart and i seriously need people to very carefully read this ask and internalize it. im serious. even if it makes you cry, please re-read it a couple of times. even if you seriously think it's okay to hate men. read this.

men don't just pop into the world men. they're boys first a lot of the time. would you people seriously fucking rather see dead trans boys than living trans men? because that is what you're doing. your incessant gender essentialist bullshit is legitimately getting trans CHILDREN scarred for fucking life and potentially killed. you are potentially actually for real taking a life when you say these things- but are you so happy knowing that there's childrens' blood on your hands?

your son deserves so much better than this holy SHIT. an 11 year old should NOT be having suicidal thoughts, especially over their GENDER. this is not petty internet drama anymore. this is affecting the real world. this is affecting real people. y'all seem to forget that there's a living, breathing person behind every single account you interact with (aside from obvious bots). there are people behind these posts. and you are genuinely affecting them. sure it sounds like a quirky clapback to say "all men should die" or whatever but what about when you say that to someone and it actually kills a man? what about when you're genuinely responsible for ending a life by what you've said and done?

are you prepared to console that man's family? are you prepared to apologize for what you did? are you prepared to understand that this has real life consequences and can literally tear families apart? are you prepared to understand that many parents, including mothers, love their sons? that many people love their relatives who are men? that many people love their husbands and partners? that this would hurt women in a very real way? whether or not you hate all men doesn't matter, but not all women think like this, and this can and will devastate real people in real time. this will hurt women way more than you think.

i wanted to say that i'm glad he has a good support system with you. it must be very comforting to know he has a NB parent to help advocate for him as a trans child. a child. i can't get over that. he should be living his life carefree. he should be playing with other kids, discovering new hobbies, learning about how other people go about their lives, and having fun, but instead he's getting tortured and mocked? for what reason? he's not a tyrant now. he's a boy. boys don't have any power in society. children are not an oppressive class. holy shit

you are doing a great thing by advocating for him. i will do my best to make sure i can, too. i don't need to know your or his name for right now, but i will make sure that i tell his story, because this is beyond fucked up. people need to understand this isn't about views on tiktok and likes on instagram. this is about real people who are hurting. you don't deserve to have to see your child go through all of this intense therapy and pain and suffering. this needs to come to an end.

if you want to share this part of the message with him, i'd like to address him directly. i just wanted to say, that i'm 32 years old, and i realized i was a trans man when i was about 20. i didn't learn the word transgender until i was 19 years old. if i had an awesome NB parent who helped me learn about it at your age, i would've been out as transmasculine, too! i was scared for a while, but some of the happiest years of my life have been while i've been out as a trans guy. i wear what i want now, i talk how i want to, i present how i want to, i love who i want to, and i don't let any of this invalidate me for who i am as a man. i only talk to people who respect me, and there are tons of people out there who love us and see us for who we really are

you're not going to deal with this forever. people are being really, really mean right now, but it's not going to be like this forever. there are a lot of other transmascs out there. if you find other trans boys around your age, do your best to stick with them if they're good to you. it's okay to be a trans boy and its okay to want to be friends with other trans boys. you're not a bad person. you're not mean. you're an awesome kid who's taking the time to explore gender now that it's something you can understand. that's really cool, why wouldn't that be cool?

try not to let them get to you. they are not confident in how they identify and how they feel about themselves. they're taking it out on you. your life matters, it matters so much. other trans boys out there will be so happy to know you exist. you deserve a long, happy life. there's nothing wrong with being a boy or man. we're not bad people. we're capable and deserving of love just like everyone else. your gender isn't anyone else's business. chase your happiness.

[greersarchive]

It's also worth noting that when you get up into the big leagues, civil disobedience is one of the most effective forms of protest when done en-masse. When people talk about non-violent protests, they try to make it sound like it's just legal, well ordered marches, or sternly worded letters, but it's more than that. It's also making yourself a *massive pain in the ass*. It's clogging the streets so people in power have to notice you, it's the cat-like art of becoming a totally floppy, boneless, thousand pound mess when they try to move you (they fuckin' hate that), it's overwhelming the local police office with more arrests than they can process. So, yeah, if you're a kid and you keep getting in trouble for not saying the Pledge, you can also consider making it worse. Do it every day. Refuse to go to the principle when told to, just... keep sitting there. They put you in detention? Stay in detention. They don't wanna be their supervising your ass either, but what if you just... don't leave? Child or adult, research the best ways to do it in your situation or area. Find out what works and what doesn't. Do it smart. The stuff I said above is just examples to get the flavor of the thing. Do it smart, know your rights, make sure you believe in what you're doing enough to make it worth it. Because, yeah, it's gonna suck for you, but if you really mean it, if you really believe, you have the power to be so amazingly annoying by just refusing to comply. And if you can get a bunch of people to do it all at once, oh boy, all bets are off.

dear usamerican high schoolers looking for a way to resist fascism: sit through the pledge of allegiance.

no getting up. no looking at the flag.

everyone will be looking at you. you'll be sweating like a fucking hippopotamus. your teacher will sternly tell you to get up. you'll feel stupid and that maybe its not worth it because you're just a kid in a classroom. but I'm here to remind you that there are no real life consequences to detention. there are however real life consequences to resisting a thoughtless performance of nationalism.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

CRAZY

rafe cameron x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: y/n knows exactly what makes rafe angry, and after a fight she uses it to her advantage.

based on this ask !! i hope it’s what you asked for anon, enjoy my lovely <3

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: lowkey a toxic relationship, cursing, rage has anger issues, reader is a teensy bit petty, angst but w/ a fluffy/soft ending though !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

THIRD PERSON +

The fight had been bad—bad enough that Y/N had stormed out of Rafe's truck, slamming the door behind her so hard the sound echoed through the empty parking lot.

Her chest heaved with frustration, fingers trembling as she dug into her bag for her phone. She needed space. She needed air. And, most of all, she needed to get away from Rafe before she said something she couldn't take back.

Their relationship had always been intense, an unrelenting push and pull that left them both breathless. Rafe loved hard, and he fought even harder, his jealousy and temper a storm she'd learned to navigate. Most of the time, she knew how to calm him down—knew exactly what to say to keep the fire from burning too hot. But tonight? Tonight, she didn't want to be the one to fix it.

Her finger hovered over the settings on her phone, her heart racing as she tapped the switch to turn off her location. She knew it would piss him off. That was exactly why she did it.

The messages started almost immediately.

Rafe🖤: Where the fuck are you?

Rafe🖤: Turn your location back on, Y/N.

Rafe🖤: Don't do this right now.

Y/N ignored them, walking the short distance to her house. She needed a night to herself, away from his sharp words and possessive hands. By the time she locked her front door behind her, her phone had blown up with missed calls, each one filling her with a strange mix of satisfaction and guilt.

She tossed it onto the couch and sighed, running a hand through her hair. She hated fighting with him. Hated the way it drained her, leaving her restless and exhausted all at once. But at the same time, she couldn't just keep letting him get away with his controlling tendencies.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A night of self-care—it was exactly what she needed.

—

Rafe was losing his mind.

He was pacing his bedroom, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists. He'd called her a dozen times, sent twice as many texts, and nothing. The read receipts taunted him. She was ignoring him on purpose.

His heart hammered in his chest, but it wasn't just anger. It was fear.

He knew Y/N, knew she was stubborn and fiery, but she wasn't reckless. She wouldn't just disappear—unless she wanted to prove a point.

"Fuck," he muttered, shoving his hands through his hair. He grabbed his keys off the nightstand and stalked out of his house. If she wasn't going to answer him, he'd go straight to where he thought she’d be.

—

Y/N had just finished painting her nails when the loud, insistent pounding on her front door made her jump.

She groaned, already knowing exactly who it was.

"Y/N. Open the goddamn door."

Rolling her eyes, she stayed where she was on the couch, letting him stew. She wasn't about to let him ruin her night of peace.

More knocking. Harder this time.

"Seriously?" she called out, still not moving. "Go home, Rafe."

"Not happening," he shot back, voice muffled but unmistakably pissed.

Y/N sighed, setting down her nail polish bottle with exaggerated patience. She padded to the door, taking her sweet time before unlocking it and swinging it open.

Rafe stood there, broad shoulders tense, blue eyes blazing with frustration. His chest was rising and falling with uneven breaths, like he'd been barely keeping himself together the whole drive over.

"You think this shit is funny?" he asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

She arched a brow. "What are you talking about?"

He scoffed, shutting the door behind him. "You turned your location off, ignored my calls—what the fuck was I supposed to think, huh?"

She crossed her arms, unbothered. "That I wanted space?"

Rafe clenched his jaw, running a hand down his face. He was furious, but more than that, he was relieved. Seeing her standing there in pajamas, a face mask on, her nails half-painted—she hadn't been out doing something reckless. She hadn't been with someone else. She was just... here. Safe.

That realisation made his anger simmer just enough to be replaced with something else.

His shoulders dropped, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "You could've at least told me you were home."

Y/N sighed, some of her stubbornness fading at the exhaustion in his voice. "I just... needed a break, Rafe. From the fighting, from the way you get when you're mad." She shook her head. "I didn't want to deal with it tonight."

His lips pressed into a tight line, and for a moment, she thought he'd argue. But then he surprised her by exhaling slowly and nodding. "I get it," he muttered.

She blinked, caught off guard by his sudden agreement. "You do?"

"I don't like it," he admitted, his voice lower now. "But yeah." He ran a hand through his hair, the anger fading as something heavier took its place. "I just—I fucking hate not knowing where you are. It drives me crazy."

Y/N sighed, her frustration waning. She knew Rafe wasn't like this for no reason. He loved her, even if he didn't always know how to show it in a healthy way.

She stepped closer, hesitantly reaching out to touch his arm. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just... needed time to breathe."

Rafe looked down at her, his blue eyes searching hers. After a beat, he nodded again. Then, without a word, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up in a tight embrace.

Y/N exhaled against his chest, feeling the tension between them ease just a little. He was still possessive, still overbearing, but he was trying. And for now, that was enough.

"Can I stay?" he mumbled into her hair.

She let out a soft chuckle. "You already let yourself in, so yeah."

He huffed out a quiet laugh, his grip on her tightening. "I'll make it up to you."

Y/N pulled back slightly to look up at him. "Damn right you will."

He smirked, then pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "C'mon. Let's go to bed."

An hour later, they were tangled up together in her bed, limbs intertwined beneath the covers. Rafe's arms were wrapped securely around her, like he was afraid she'd disappear if he let go.

Y/N felt herself start to drift off, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest. Despite everything—the fights, the chaos—she knew she wouldn't trade this for anything.

Because for all his flaws, Rafe Cameron loved her in a way that no one else ever could. And if he had his way—no one else ever would.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was a short little one, but i’m trying to get through as many request before i go on holiday !! the ‘sports car’ drew starkey fic may be posted when i return as i’ll be taking a tumblr break for that week :)

still send in any requests, i’ll be working through my inbox until then !! some of these i’ve been writing for a couple weeks i’ve just had writers block lmao

[doll3scent]

𝐼 𝒢𝑜𝓉 𝒜 𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒪𝓃𝑒

Simon Riley x reader

Warnings- none. tiktok trend.

wc. 1k

a/n. based off this video

Master list 𓂃۶ৎ

Your ex had a bad habit of resurfacing every few months—always after vanishing without a word, like clockwork. It used to get under your skin, the way he acted like he still had a place in your life. But this time was different. This time, you had a boyfriend.

A tall one.

It wasn’t that your ex was short, but compared to Simon, he might as well have been.

You and Simon were cuddling on the couch. “Si look, look at this!” you said excitedly, holding up your phone with a grin.

Simon barely glanced up from where he was sitting on the couch, remote in hand, flipping through channels with the kind of focus he usually reserved for missions. His expression was already teetering on exasperation, but there was a hint of something else too—something almost amused. “What is it this time?” he asked, voice gruff but not unkind.

You had a habit of shoving your phone in his face whenever you found a video funny, and even worse, roping him into all the couple trends you thought were cute. Most of the time, he refused. But sometimes—if you were lucky—he’d humor you.

You showed him the video, grinning as you waited for his reaction. Simon watched it in silence, his expression unreadable as the familiar trend played out on your screen.

After a moment, he let out a slow exhale and looked at you. “I don’t understand the purpose of these TikTok videos,” he said dryly. You rolled your eyes “It’s funny, Si. The whole point is that the guy is so tall”

He gave you a long, unimpressed stare. “Sounds like a waste of time.”

“Please do it with me” you whined. His brow arched slightly. “Absolutely not.” You huffed dramatically, turning away from him with a pout. "Why do you hate me?"

Simon let out a short chuckle, the deep rumble of it making your stomach flip. "I don't hate you."

"Then do the video with me." You glanced at him over your shoulder, batting your lashes for extra effect

Simon shook his head, clearly amused despite himself. "You're a real pain, you know that?" he grumbled, but there was a warmth in his tone that made it clear he wasn't truly upset.

You grinned, practically bouncing with excitement. Simon rolled his eyes, but there was an undeniable softness in the way he looked at you. Despite his initial protest, he set his book aside with a heavy sigh. "Fine," he muttered. "Get your phone. Let's do this damn video."

You grinned as you jumped off the couch, pulling Simon with you and guiding him in front of the bookshelf. He stood behind you, his towering figure casting a shadow as he crossed his arms, a silent presence that seemed to fill the room.

He was so close that you could feel his breath on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

As you picked out the sound, you could hear his heavy breathing in your ear, the sound of it making your heart race. It was almost overwhelming having him so close, his presence so intoxicating.

You raised the phone in front of you, the camera only capturing Simon’s neck down, your smaller figure in front of him. His arms were crossed, the large muscles in his arms and chest visibly flexing as he stood stoically behind you. With a quick glance, you hit record, then mouthed the words

“Sorry, I’m not into short guys”

Without missing a beat, Simon reached around you, uncrossing his arms with a fluid motion. He grabbed the phone, effortlessly lifting it up to his head. But instead of holding it normally, he tilted it down just enough so it only captured his neck and shoulders, towering above you, showing how dwarfed you are to him. You turned, eyes locking with the phone’s screen, staring up at it as you wrapped your arms around his torso and the video ends.

Simon held the phone easily, his hand easily dwarfing the device as he towered over you. It was a stark reminder of just how large he was compared to you, his broad shoulders and muscular frame making you feel almost dainty in comparison.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, holding onto him tightly as you looked up at the phone screen, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and awe. Simon was even more imposing from this angle, his sheer size and presence almost overwhelming.

After you uploaded the video, you didn't hear from your ex at all. You knew he had seen the video-he'd always kept tabs on your socials-but now, nothing. No late-night texts, no vague attempts at getting your attention.

On the other hand, Simon had unknowingly become a TikTok sensation. The video of him towering over you had gone viral, with women practically drooling over his massive frame. His imposing figure had caught the attention of a lot of people, most of them swooning over his muscles and that intimidating air of his.

The requests for his TikTok handle started pouring in, and each time you had to reply with a small, almost apologetic, "Sorry, he doesn't have one." It was always the same answer, and it made you smirk every time.

Simon didn't know about the video, and you knew he wouldn't care even if you told him.

Social media wasn't his thing, and he preferred to stay away from the spotlight.

You figured it would just blow over. But then Johnny, with his big mouth, had to get involved. Johnny was one of those guys who could be called "chronically online." Always scrolling through Twitter or TikTok, and never missing a trend. He had an uncanny ability to keep tabs on everything happening in the digital world, whether it was relevant to him or not.

So, naturally, Johnny couldn't help himself. One day, out of nowhere, he mentioned the video to Simon, his grin widening as he did.

"You see that video with you on TikTok? The one where you make her look tiny?" Johnny asked, unable to resist a little tease.

Simon shot him a look, his eyebrows furrowing. “What the hell are you talking about?"

Johnny didn't let up. "Oh, come on, man. You went viral. Everyone's talking about it. Women can't get enough of you."

Simon's expression darkened as Johnny continued to talk. "I don't care about any of that," he said gruffly.

Johnny chuckled. "You should.Seriously, your fans are going crazy over that video. The comments, the messages...they're all obsessed with you." Simon rolled his eyes. "That's just social media. It doesn't matter in the real world."

Johnny shrugged. "Maybe not, but it doesn't hurt to have a few thousand women swooning over you. Just saying"

Johnny read out some of the comments

“raw, next question”

“he’s our boyfriend now”

“til my jaw locks”

Johnny, clearly enjoying himself, chuckled as he scrolled further. "Oh, this one's good:' would let him do anything to me.'"

Simon rolled his eyes, trying to keep his usual cool demeanor. But there was a hint of something behind his gaze, something almost amused, as Johnny continued reading more of the comments.

But Simon, always quick with a comeback, couldn't resist a cheeky response. "Well, my girlfriend already lets me do anything to her."

Johnny's grin widened, but Simon's words— casual as they were-carried a certain possessiveness, a quiet confidence. It was clear that while the attention from others might be amusing, Simon had no interest in anyone but you.

[lirabuswavi]

"Before we start the meeting," Superman said, "Is there anything anyone would like to address first?"

Phantom stood up, chair rolling softly against the carpet as it was pushed back. "Yes, actually," He reached into his utility belt and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "This is my resignation from the Justice League,"

A beat of silence.

"Oh," Wonder Woman said. "Has something occurred in your personal life?"

"Yeah, I guess you could call it that," Phantom snorted, sounding remarkably bitter, a stark difference from the cheerful young man they knew.

"Is there nothing we could do to help you?"

"No. There isn't. Because it happened ten years ago,"

"Is there something wrong with your powers?" Flash, who was very quick at mental math and quickly aligned it to a fourteen year old metahuman gene activation, said.

"Yes. There is something wrong with me," Was the meeting room getting colder? "Because I'm not a metahuman. I'm a ghost,"

Incomprehension flitted across many Justice Leaguers' faces, while a dawning horror alighted on others.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Green Lantern, freshly back from a trip to Oa and in no way up to date on recent politics, asked.

"Why. Didn't I. Tell anyone?" Phantom said softly, and yes, the room was definitely getting colder. "I don't know. Why didn't I, fourteen and freshly dead, tell anyone about what killed me? Why didn't I, the son of ghost hunters, tell my parents I was what they hated most? Why didn't I, the hero of my hometown, tell people I was the same kind of 'thing' that attacked the town on the regular. Why didn't I, in an increasingly hostile environment, tell people I was the same kind of being they made effigies of to burn and laugh at. Why didn't I, the person whose existence was just made illegal, tell anyone?"

Silence. Their breaths wafted in front of their faces. There was frost spiralling up the wall behind Phantom like an aura of dread.

"Because. I. Was. Scared. I was scared of exactly what's happening now with the Anti-Ecto acts. I was scared of being hated. Of being treated like a monster. Of being held down by my parents, my town, the government, and ripped apart molecule by molecule just like they said I should be,"

Phantom breathed in deeply and exhaled, temperature slowly rising and icy crystals dissolving.

"I became a hero to defend humans from invading ghosts. And now the roles are switched. Humans are the ones invading ghost towns, their homes, kidnapping and enslaving them, sneering and laughing all the while. I am half human. And I am half ghost. I am a hero to the people that need me. Not just in name or words or membership cards," Phantom waved a hand to the paper he had put on the table, "But in deeds. I am not a metahuman. I am not a human hero. I am not human. And I would not be a hero at all if I didn't do what was right,"

Phantom planted his feet on the carpet, shoulders rolled back and head held high. His bearing was regal. They had never seen Phantom like this before. "The Justice League is beholden to the governments of this mortal world. But as someone who has known you, fought beside you, and prevented you from becoming part of my Realms too soon, I hope you are first and foremost beholden to your conciouncess,"

And without another word, Phantom turned, clawed a hand through the air, a portal ripping into existence at his fingertips, and stepped through. The swirling green portal closed behind him, like he was never there.

A beat of silence.

"First on the agenda-," Batman began.

"What the fuck?!" Green Arrow snapped. "Bats, you are not telling me we are just going to ignore-,"

"-we will discuss the Anti-Ecto acts and how we will best prevent the egregious sentient rights violation the United States Government has passed into law," Batman continued.

"We were planning to bring this up even before Phantom revealed himself," Superman interceded peaceably.

"You knew, didn't you," Wonder Woman said accusingly, gaze fixed on Batman.

"Yes," Batman said. "It was obvious if you were looking,"

"Well then why didn't you tell any of us?!" Green Lantern demanded.

Batman fixed a flat stare on Green Lantern. "It has been made expressly clear to me," He said slowly, "On multiple occasions, that sharing my knowledge of others' secret identities, up to and including the sources of other people's powers and/or training, was expressly forbidden as an invasion of privacy. Including revealing my knowledge to the individual in question as it was 'creepy' and 'honestly better off not knowing you knew',"

Silence.

"Any other objections?"

Silence.

"Good. Let's get started,"

Dark Secret

So! Danny was discovered pretty quickly after his first battle against the Lunch Lady. His hair turned white, and his body shape was a little different, but he largely looked very similar to his Human Form, so it was only a matter of time really.

Thankfully he was assumed to be a Metahuman.

He didn't look like any other Ghost, the closest resemblance was his hair and eye color, but even that could be explained away. Also his parents were adamant that he couldn't be a Ghost because he was still Sentient and not Evil, so he must just have powers that just looked similar to Ghost Powers esthetically. Probably as a result of the Portal Accident, which he used as an explanation for how his powers awakened.

Danny also avoided using the more obvious Ghost Powers like Intangiblity and Invisiblity, sticking mostly to the most basic Flight and Energy based Powers he got to be as generic as possible. If anybody saw otherwise, it was a trick of the light or a trick of the Ghosts.

Danny became the Hero of Amity Park, always pretending to be something else. It was his darkest secret.

Unfortunately because the public never saw a Ghost like Phantom on a positive light, their perception of Ghosts never changed. Nobody believed that Ghosts could be anything aside from Evil, and as the knowledge of Ghosts and the Ghost Zone began to spread around the world that perception became more and more commonplace.

If Danny had been revealed in the early days, it could have been salvageable, but nowadays if his secret was revealed he would have to convince the entire world that everything they knew about Ghosts was wrong. It would practically be impossible.

Even when he joined the Justice League when he became an Adult, he still had to hide his secret. Years of hiding made sure he could conceal his true Nature from the magic users on the team, but he still had to be distant from the team just to be sure.

While all this was going on in the Living Realm, his adventures in the Ghost Zone still happened as normal. He saved Pandora and the Acropolis, dethroned the Tyrant King Aragon, managed to defeat Pariah Dark in Single combat, and even became recognized as a Great Warrior by the Far Frozen.

After years of hiding, he actually felt more at home in the Ghost Zone than in the Human Realm. There he could be his true self without having to hide a huge part of his identity, and people accepted him for who he was. Sure he had enemies there, but he also had more real friends outside of Tucker and Sam.

He was content with his double life, acting as a Hero to the Public while hiding his true self, and secretly going to the Ghost Zone to be himself among his friends and even his enemies.

Of course it all came crashing down when he Anti Ecto Acts finally passed.

Now there was a Legal Path for Humans to enter and profit off of the Ghost Zone. Beyond just being able to legally kill and experiment on Ghosts, the Acts also allowed Humans to claim parts of the Ghost Zone as their own Property, enslaving the Ghosts residing there, and destroying the Ecosystem of the Zone because there were no laws preventing it.

And now Danny had a choice.

He could either side with the Humans to which he was a Hero, allowing them to destroy the Ghost Zone and Enslave the denizens living there with the full support of the Government, or he could side with the Ghost Zone, betraying Humanity and the people he had been protecting for years, but trying to save those who had accepted him for his true self years ago.

To him the answer was obvious.

[simp-ly-writes]

To Never Fearing Love

─────── · · Hate the Love That Drives Ambition (pt.3)

Pairing:Father!Silco x Mother!Reader, Jinx & Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Your's and Silco's family decides to have a bonding day with the kids. Silco takes his son out for drinks at the bar as they learn more about one another and Jinx revels in having the love without conditions, motherly figure of you.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, reader called 'mom/mother,' found family, fluff, miscommunication, emotional hurt/comfort, alcohol and smokes mentioned, swearing, happy ending, not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,400

─ · · A/N: don't know if anyone remembers this series lol but @juluina thank you for the ask in expanding this work (super sorry it took me so long to write heh... exams and work, you know?) hope you all enjoy!

─────── · ·

You and Silco quickly pulled away from one another at the sound of gags and coughs produced by your kids, Rhyker and Jinx. "Mom!" Rhyker shook his head in disgust while looking at the way Silco wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. "Dad, ew, stop it!" Jinx called out seeing as he kissed your forehead before letting go.

"I thought you wanted your mom and I back together, or am I mistaken?" Silco states in an all to calm tone, yellow-eye twitching between his son and daughter before casting a wink in your direction, more groans sounded. "I don't want this if you both are going to be so... so GROSS about it!" Jinx complains, twirling one of her braids and accidentally hitting Rhyker who picks up a couch cushion and slams it in her side with annoyance.

You sigh watching as your apartment slowly gets wrecked as Silco moves to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of Whiskey from your liquor cabinet. You raise your wine glass, clinking the two together before sitting back and watching the chaos unfold. "Could you imagine these two growing up alongside one another?" Silco asks before taking a long sip form his glass.

You think for a moment, turning to look at the side of Silco's face, "I think we would have gotten divorced, honestly." Silco chuckles, "You thought of us getting married?" he asks, a small smile tugging on the edge of his lips. You place your head on his shoulder, "sometimes... other times I fantasized about having your head above the mantel."

Silco's chuckle now turns to heavier laughs as his hand grips your knee, you shiver at the feeling of his gold cufflink hitting your skin, "you wouldn't be the first one to have that fantasy, darling but if I were to go out anyway... I would want you to do it more than anyone else." You don't know weather or not to feel flattered by that comment, simply leaving it to hang in the silence as Jinx kicks Rhyker in the shin, sending him falling to the rug before she tickles his sides. Tears well in his eyes before he pushes her off and ties her shoelaces together before running away.

"Do you ever fantasize about anything else?" Silco speaks in a deep tone just for your ears. You hum, placing your hand on top of his before gently feeling up his arm, threading your hand underneath his vest to rest upon his heart, feeling as it skips a beat. "I'll tell you if you make them happen-"

"LALALALALLALA" Jinx screams, pulling her ears and trying to run away in her tied-together shoes after Rhkyer. You close your eyes, listening to the door slam and the apartment go quiet... you didn't know weather or not to be appreciative or worried about what the kids were up to next.

Seemingly sensing your thoughts, Silco's hands rises up your leg- your breath hitching before hissing at your partner, "Silco," your voice stern and warning. "I'm sure they're fine. Now, are you able to get days off of work the official way? or should I... pursude?"

You remove your head from his shoulder, shaking it profusely, "none of that will be needed, sir." You wiggle a finger in his face, watching as he stares blankly at you but not moving to stop you, simply leaning back in his chair, head tilting to the side- admiring you.

His glass sits against his spread thigh, breathing slow and even as he watches you compose the letter and send it off through the slot within the apartment. "I think it would do us some good bonding with the children," Silco says off-handedly. You think through a day with Jinx in your head, letting her slow you around Zaun and you showing her around the nooks and alleys of Piltover... you smile, "I think thats a wonderful idea darling-"

"The only kind I come up with," Silco retorts to your scoff, "Mhmm sure, Silco and I'm pregnant and its not yours." Silco spits out his drink, slamming the glass against the table before standing, hands rigid behind his back as he looks down upon you, "say that again for me... slowly."

You stand your ground for a minute, watching as his eye twitches and wrinkles form against his forehead, "I'm fucking with you, now keep that ego in check or I may just have to... you know." Silco glares at you as he would one of his goons or business associates but having watched that cold glare be formed since the start, you are unwavering underneath it- smirking to his sigh as you celebrate your victory. "You're not going to make things easy, are you?"

"Easy for you and me, Silco?" you shake your head walking forwards to stand before him, running your hands up and down his chest, "never."

─────── · ·

The following day after you and Silco shared a bed after nearly twenty years apart... you had the best sleep of your life but were excited to get ready and go out with your new daughter. Jinx seemed more eggar than, bursting into the main bedroom and shaking you away.

"Out," Silcos groggy morning tone commanded, casting a glare to the blue-haired girl, watching as her shoulders dropped. "Silco!" you swatted his chest, moving away and patting a spot in the bed for her to sit beside you in which she gladly took, sticking her tongue out at her father-figure. "You're gonna be my favourite," Jinx says, wrapping her arms around you, cuddling into your side as you pat her back gently, "happy to hear it," you smile before seeing Rhyker in the doorway looking to Silco expectedly.

Silco leans his head back into the pillows, "I thought we were past the toddler stages," he mumbles to himself before moving closer to you leaving the edge of the bed empty for Rhyker to join the cuddle pile. Jinx smiles, staring up at the ceiling, "we're finally a family," she whispers to herself, your heart aches, subconsciously grabbing Silco's hand underneath the cover, squeezing it.

─────── · ·

The next day has you split with Jinx to share a mother-daughter day and Silco and Rhyker to have a father and son one. You both start in Zaun, knowing that (out of all places) to be the safest place for Jinx to walk around freely. She shows you all the changes since you had last talked a long walk around the undercity as you nod your head along, allowing her to drag you down alleyways and into various shops and bars.

To your shock she barges into Silcos office, you stand outside the doors peering in, feeling unsure of entering the space, memories flash over your mind of earlier days when you both were first building this empire... his empire... you shake your head of these thoughts, taking a step over the threshold with a withheld breath before startling once seeing a figure emerge from the darkness, smirking down at you, Sevkia.

"I would say I've missed you but then again, ever since you've appeared I've been working over-time trying to fill in Silco's boots," you open your mouth to apologize to the woman before feeling her hand clamp down on your shoulder. "I'm... happy you and the boss are on taking terms again... was a tough couple of decades." You nod your head apologetically before hearing Jinx's voice call you away.

Shaking her hand you part ways and follow after Jinx's call into Silco's room. You feel the sheets of his green silk covers and take a peek into his closet. Your heart thumps heavily in your chest at the sight of all your clothes left in the order you left them... and at the 'new' additions from old collections you admired in past catalogues. He remembered a silly thing like that, you think to yourself.

"Look here!" Jinx shouts, helping you up to the rafters and then up towards the roof. You look over the various nick knacks and gadgets she has stored within the various nooks and crannies of the space alongside her illustrations with intrigue.

"I spend most of my time here or in my lab but here a lot," she explains before pointing to the cityscape before you both. "Silco and I went to dinner for my 15th birthday there and that tailor shop he keeps in business since you used to be friends with the owners daughter and that pub is where I first got wasted and Silco had to carry me home and Oh!" you smile, watching as he face lights up and you feel her grab your arm, gripping it tightly as if worried you would be gone in the next moment.

You place a hand on top of hers, she pauses, looking down at it before looking up into your eyes, glossing over, "I-I'm really thankful for you, mom." You hold her cheeks in your hands, pressing your foreheads together, "I'll be here with you for as long as I can." You promise.

─────── · ·

Rhyker stood stiffly beside and equally stiff Silco at the bartop. They both had yet to look at one another and that that Rhyker thinks about it... they both had barley shared more than a few words.

Silco takes one long drag of his cigar, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he places his arm against the wood counter and looks towards his son.

For anyone else, the long stare would have them wetting their pants and running but for Rhyker he stood taller, meeting his fathers gaze with his chin raised as he stared down the man absent for so much of his life.

"So... how'd you and mom meet?" Rhyer tries to start the conversation off with a topic he hopes is on the table. Silco squints his good eye, a crack begins to form at the side of his glass before he swings his head side to side contemplatively.

"We met like any other couples do, at a bar one night. I bought her a drink, said I liked the smell of her perfume, danced the night away and invited her home. One night turned to two, two to three and then she never left... or well, you get the rest," Silco responds, downing the rest of his drink before tapping for another.

Rhyker raises a brow at his words, shaking his head as his father offers his a drag from his cigar. "But when did you realize you loved her?"

"Never stopped," Silco quickly answered back, "now are you asking for advice or do you desire reading into your mom's and I's relationship that much..."

Rhyker frowns, eyebrows furrowed, "no, I think I'll know when. I'm just curious when you knew."

Silco hums, giving the bartender a nod as his glass gets refilled, "well, when someone like your mom holds you in the rain forsaking their own health in your time of need, I think the distinction between like and love becomes instantaneous- almost like the love was always there, no matter the time, place, or life before or after the moment."

"So you would love her in every lifetime?" Rhyker asks, adjusting his glasses while taking a sip from his glass. Silco stares at the wood top again, his dress shoe tapping against the tiled floors, "you sound like her father listening to 'give her away.'"

"I can't help but still feel... fearful of you."

Silco nods his head slowly before looking into his sons eyes, holding the stare before smirking, "fear is good in small doses but do not let it consume you. I made a vow never to feel that immense fear again and that includes ensuring I don't see you or your mother go again."

"Always have some wisdom to share don't you dad?" Rhyker smiles, mirroring Silcos expression as they knock shoulders. Silco scoffs before allowing a few laughs to leave his throat, "wisdom? no. But once you experience enough range of emotions you'll be finding your own words to describe the experiences some think to be left unexplainable."

Both men allow the words to fill the space in between them before Rhyker stirs feeling Silco's hand clamp down on his shoulder, "show me to your studies. If you're interested in how I think than I must know how you think."

─────── · ·

When the family all returns back home to your apartment, you order in take-out for the night as you all share your activities from the day. Jinx is first to jump to conversation, grabbing your hand excitedly as Silco chuckles, wrapping his arm over the back of your chair as he looks towards his daughter with a smile.

"Mom and I went to Zaun and-and I showed her my workspace and room. Then we did some graffiti, I never knew her to be so good at lettering- you really have to see for yourself! Anyways we also went to the diner and she got me this new necklace, the gemstone is only found at the bottom of oceans- how cool is that!" Jinx looks around the table, awaiting a just as engaged response as Rhyker nods, pulling on one of her braids with a smile.

"Good to know you had fun Blue," he teases, "me and dad drank and smoked together before he helped me with my homework-"

"Silco! you. did. not." You turn slowly in your partners hold, glaring at his nonchalant expression. "You said to bond, he did something I liked to do, I did something he liked to do... I see no wrong in it, darling."

You scoff, shaking your head, "Rhkyer you best know what side-effects those bring and-"

Rhyker sighs, "mom I was teasing. I only had one drink and didn't smoke, I promise." You glare at your son, analyzing his expression for any signs of deceit before nodding and placing a hand on Silco's knee.

"I swear you all are going to be the death of me," you mumble into your glass as Silco squeezes your shoulder, leaning over to whisper into your ear and your kids begin their own conversation across from you both, "I would follow after you just the same."

"you're proving my point further, Silco."

─────── · ·

─ · · ARCANE TAGLIST: @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @chickenlvr123 @peachhiz @hellokittyluvr69420 @mommymilkers0526

[seokminfilm]

into it | joshua hong

🪄 pairing, joshua hong x reader

🪄 warnings, non-idol au, model joshua x personal assistant reader, fluff, enemies to lovers, reader has some creative ways of insulting joshua, flirty joshua, joshua doesn't take reader seriously, romantic tension goes INSANE, open ending (??)

🪄 summary, everyone knows you hate joshua hong with a passion. do you really hate him though? or are you just in denial because he's just your type?

🪄 author's note, do you guys ever have that one-sided beef with a person that you really don't even know WHY you have that beef? that's me w joshua ngl 😭 ANYWAYS this was requested by my pookie @yudaies (knowing i would lose it if she asked me to....which she did anyways)!! hope you enjoy you evil woman 🤍 ALSO TWO PSAS: 1) i'm going to start writing my shorter fics in lowercase just to minimize the stress i have with capitalization errors! longer/full-story fics will be properly capitalized, but the shorter, quicker fics i do will be in all lowercase!! 2) please take the poll regarding the length of fics you all wanna see from me so i can know what to do in the future! thank you lots lyrnation!!

🪄 now playing, you right, doja cat, the weeknd & into it, chase atlantic

the flash of cameras was still kind of new to you, and you stood in the back of the room, surveying the action from afar. photographers surrounded joshua like he was some sort of new bacteria discovery, and he stood with a simple expression, a sultry look in his doe-like brown eyes as he gave a small smile to the cameras surrounding him.

being stuck as joshua hong's personal assistant seemed like a dream to every disillusioned teenage girl, but you knew the harsh reality of it. you weren't looking for the spotlight, but joshua still had a way of stealing it from you, even if you were doing simple things like ordering him coffee or picking up his tailored suits.

it was common knowledge to all of your coworkers that you had some undiscovered vendetta against the man. when your friends sang his praises, you had to add water to the fire, raining on their parade.

to the outside world, joshua hong was a visual of composed grace. he has this sickening 'gentleman' agenda he was pushing for himself, and the cute, sweet gaze in his wide brown eyes made your skin pulse with annoyance.

in fact, you were almost 100% convinced the man was ai-generated, given a perfect smile and smooth voice to match his "unreal" visuals (of course they were unreal─he probably was unreal, for god's sakes).

the photo op came to an end after 30 minutes of trailing behind him for interviews and outfit fittings, and you could breathe a sigh of relief, grateful you wouldn't have to see him say thank you with that stupid, rich-sounding, hot l.a. accent, and─

"is my schedule done for the day?" the voice you were just fuming over is heard from behind you, and you turn around, a sour smile on your face as joshua smiles sweetly at you. curse his stupid pretty crescent eyes and his stupid adorable scrunched nose.

"you have one more fitting for the upcoming photoshoot tomorrow morning, and then you're done for the day," you say blankly, thanking the staff member who returned joshua's personal belongings to you.

"are you okay? you seem like you're in a sour mood─although, you always seem like that," joshua teases lightly, chuckling to himself as he stuffs his phone in his dress pants' pocket.

"of course i'm always in a sour mood, mr. hong. you do realize that i hate seeing the flashing cameras all the time." you lie straight through your teeth, and joshua nods with faux sympathy, a smirk behind his eyes.

"of course, i can understand that. i just can't help but wonder if you're annoyed by the flashes or my "glittering smile"." joshua echoes the compliment a newscaster gave him moments earlier, and you grumble to yourself, tempted to flip joshua off.

"let's just go. your nice clean rolls royce is waiting for you." you step out of the way dramatically, and joshua bows to you, obviously towering over you as he struts out of the double doors. his white heels click against the sidewalk, and you grit your teeth, sliding beside him into the back row of the car as you sigh.

the weather is nice, complimenting the busy day you've had. joshua takes his phone from his pocket, taking pictures of the cloud-free sky from behind the window, probably going to be posted to his instagram.

"hey, can you take these pictures for me? i think i'm going to upload them to my instagram," joshua hands you his phone, and you roll your eyes, having guessed his words just seconds earlier.

sighing, you hold his phone up, preparing to snap the picture. joshua puts his model face on quickly, face falling into a suave expression as his eyes sparkle with the sun's rays from outside.

the small, attractive smirk on his face is one that makes your uneasy stomach churn for reasons you want to ignore, and you hand him his phone back, turning away to hide your peering eyes.

"these are really good! why aren't you a photographer?" joshua asks lightly, and you shrug, answering the question against your will.

"photographing doesn't pay as well as babysitting a model for five days a week." you smile dryly, and joshua chuckles, voice melodic as he nods.

"you're not babysitting me. if anything, i'm babysitting you. especially with that bad attitude," joshua has a dramatic scowl on his face, that he loses in seconds when he chuckles at your strained reaction.

"i'm just joking with you, lighten up." he gives you a light bump with his shoulder, flawless skin clear and illuminated by the light as you sigh.

"you know, that outfit you're wearing is really nice on you. i don't think I've seen you wear it before." joshua's compliment shatters your whole "hating joshua hong" agenda, and your cheeks heat up against your will, to which you temporarily give up, sighing as you glance over at him.

his eyes are already on your figure, and the gentle smile he's giving you makes you want to lunge at him and rearrange his face so that he doesn't look so majestic. not that you thought that he looked majestic or anything. he was just an average guy.

"thanks." you reply, although it sounds more like a question than a harsh appreciation. joshua nods, crossing his legs as he politely adjusts his styled hair. his gold studs glitter in the sunshine, and the cologne he must have put on before the event lingers, clouding your mind more than you'd like.

"you don't look too bad yourself. the styling...really wasn't a bad choice this time." the compliment you give back sounds so forced it's laughable, but joshua ignores this or doesn't catch on (you believe it's the former).

"thank you. i think the harsh critiquing you gave the staff last time really paid off," joshua adds, looking over to you with that stupid sweet look in his eyes. trying not to shudder, you just shrug, playing it off the best you can.

"it's what i'm supposed to do." you shrug again, letting out a quiet sigh as you lapse into silence. something is lingering in the air, and you do your best to deny what it is.

"you know, even if you do your best to pretend you hate me, i know you don't," joshua says after a moment of silence, and you freeze, eyes blown wide as your cheeks flare a dark red again.

"and how do you know, joshua?" you use his first name, stepping up to the bait joshua may have thrown for you. he leans back in his seat, legs leisurely crossed as he smirks to himself, eyes closed.

"be honest with yourself. do you really hate me that much?" the question, however simple it is, shuts you up quickly, leaving you a quiet, melting mess as joshua smiles to himself, returning his attention to the window.

in that moment, you decide that you might not hate joshua. you may just dislike him.

or, better yet (and to be honest), you don't hate him at all.

[freakydeaky6969]

Unbound

Training Officer Leon Kennedy x Fem Rookie Reader

Pt.2 to my first part that’s on my page!!

Wrd count: idk it’s a little long sorry

WARNINGS: SLIGHT SMUT, BLOOD, VIOLENCE, GUNS, ANGST, HURT NO COMFORT, NOT PROOFREAD, sorry guys this shite is lowkey devastating

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

“You’re so beautiful y’know”

His words rang in your ears as you stared into his intense blue eyes that were saying everything you’ve ever wanted to hear from him. Eyes you could die for and not regret it for even a second. Eyes you would dedicate your life to loving.

For as long as you’ve known him you’ve bit your tongue countless times leaving the bitter taste of regret in your mouth . Holding back all the things you knew you shouldn’t say. Things you knew you shouldn’t feel. Thousands of words hid away from the man you wanted to confess them to. But now all those words had vanished from your tongue.

Before you could even think your lips were crashing onto his. Hands engulfing his soft cheeks and stern jaw holding him so unbelievably tight like you were afraid he would vanish from your grasp. The thousands of unspoken words being conveyed through one single kiss.

Leon’s arms snake around your waist, to your back feeling every single inch of skin he could. Savoring this moment like it was his very last while his lips danced against yours the way hes wanted them to for months. He wishes this moment could last forever. You wrapped in his arms, in his clothes, your fingers interlacing with his hair pulling him closer, kissing him so intensely he might just pass out.

But he knew how selfish this was.

You’re his rookie. Below him in the chain of command. This would ruin you and the stench of this would follow you for the rest of your career. He knows what happens to the women in these situations and he couldn’t live with himself knowing he ruined your dream life when you didn’t know any better.

‘God if we were different people I would love you shamelessly’ he thought as a war raged in his head. The way your warm lips moved so softly against his, pulling him into a hole he could barely claw his way out of. Loving you was a curse he wouldn’t dare put on you.

He pulled away from you sitting up. His heart ached at the dull emptiness from where your hands grasped his face so intently. Seeing your confused look and wet lips turn into a slight frown panged his chest, and regret was written all over his face.

You ached at the emptiness on your lips and the absence of warmth now that Leons arms weren't wrapped around you. Why did he pull away? Did you come on too strong? I mean kissing him was a little forward but he didn't exactly pull away. In fact he kissed you back and pulled you in closer. “Uhm… I'm sorry I don't know why I did that” you spoke out trying to remedy the situation.

His eyes jolted open at your apologetic response “God no you did nothing wrong that was.. everything I just..” he paused for what felt like a millennia “We can’t do this.. I can’t do this to you, ‘yer below me in rank this would mess everything up for you” he shuttered out with a look on his face that didn’t match his words. Looking at you like the only thing that he wanted to do was grab you and kiss you and never stop.

“No one would have to know, god you have no idea how bad I want this” you hated how desperate you sounded but you were. You hated how he gave you a taste and cut you off. Leaving you yearning for more like a damned addict, but you hated that fact that he was right more than anything.

You watched as he reached his hand up placing in on your cheek. You leaned into the warmth of his hand unintentionally. His eyes telling you the words he was too pained to say. He cared too much, too much to let you ruin something he knew you loved for him.

“We can’t risk it, this job means too much” he said almost against his will. His heart didn’t want to. His heart yearned for your lips against his, your warm hands wrapped around his neck , but his head knew better.

You grab his hand that rested on your cheek, interlacing your fingers with his bigger once’s. Staring down at your tangled hands thinking of what could be. No, you’re not doing this. You constantly never go through with things because of what ‘could be’. You wouldn’t let possible consequences dictate your life.

“No, I’m not letting this job get in the way. Please you shouldn’t either… tell me we don’t at least owe it to each other to try” you squeezed his hand tighter this time looking in to his eyes. You needed him to know how much he meant to you. How much you were willing to risk for him. You watched his eyes burn with something you didn’t recognize. Bracing yourself for being told off. ‘The risk is to much’ or ‘I wouldn’t do this to you’. You spoke again before he could respond “And before you say you wouldn’t do that to me, it’s my choice. My risk. My life. So if you shoot me down it’s not for me, because if you really wanted this you would respect me taking this risk” you spoke out maybe louder than you should have.

“At least let me take you on a real date first” Leon spoke out, he watched your face light up at his acceptance. Before he knew it your arms were wrapped around his neck and your lips kissed against his, not like they did before. This kiss was just to be as close to him as possible. The new reassurance of reciprocated feeling had your heart fluttering in unfamiliar ways. You broke the kiss but not moving. Breathing in each other air, impossibly close when the wave of exhaustion hits you like a tidal wave dragging you under as your eyes droop.

He notices you feeling the same tiredness as him when he lays down on his side, positioning his arms leaving a place for you in between them. You lay down in the comfort of his large arms without a second thought. He wraps them around you, his hands meeting back together at the center of your stomach grabbing onto you tightly. Embracing his warmth you feel yourself drift off in sleep. Feeling safety you haven’t felt in years knowing nothing could happen to you when you’re wrapped in the safety of his arms.

The early morning light bleeds through the cheep motel blinds moments before the loud buzzing from your phones forces you into consciousness. You groan at the sudden alarm blaring in your ears. Feeling Leon shift awake behind you, arms still tightly around you, you sit yourself up disconnecting them.

“Mmmh what time ‘s it�� he mutters out barely audible, shielding his eyes from impending light spewing into the room.

“5:37, we’ve got 20 minutes” you say calmly like you haven’t already sprung up from the bed you were just in. Feeling the chill of the morning air that seeped in from the poorly sealed windows, you yearned for the warmth of the bed. Against your own wishes you grab your uniform you had laid out on the bathroom counter, closing the door to get dressed. When you had came out with your hair looking presentable and face washed you noticed Leon fully in uniform with his bag propped up on the bed. You handed him the clothing you borrowed and he gave you a sly smile remembering what happened last night.

“Shut up” you giggled out rolling your eyes and heading for the door.

“Hey! I didn’t even say anything” he muttered out acting offended, grabbing his chest.

“Yeah but you were thinking it” you say as you shuffle down the stairs turning back to give him a look while on your way down. Only to see him already looking at you, you turn your face back in front of you to try and hide your blush. You knew your feelings were mutual but that only made it worse. You were blushing like a giddy little kid who had a playground crush. Your job wasn’t an easy one, you saw many horrible things and saw just how cruel the word really was, but you’ve always found comfort in Leon being the one to train you through it. Now that’s only been intensified.

As you approach the next door gas station Leon opens the door for you putting his hand out signaling you to enter ahead of him. You walk in and head towards the back of the station, giving a polite nod to the clerk sitting in wait for customers to show. When you get to the back you realize that you were running a bit behind because the night shift was already there waiting for you.

After filling you in on his uneventful shift, a few shady cars and a couple suspicious meet ups. He promptly left with a bit of an attitude. “Guess that was kinda our fault” you say with a giggle when he stomps out. You look back over at Leon for a reaction when you feel him pull you into a kiss. His big arms wrap around your waist pressing you into his firm chest. His lips press softly against your own getting a groan out of you when you feel his teeth pull on your bottom lip like a man starved. You giggle against his lips at the man’s actions and he pulls away reluctantly.

“We should get going” he says quietly and out of breath before letting you go and heading for the exit. You follow him, a little dizzy from the lack of air during your kiss. A dizziness you could get used to.

As you step outside you feel the cold nip at your nose. You wished you had brought more layers, or maybe had worn an undershirt. You shivered at the bitter wind blowing on your face. Leon noticed and wrapped his arm around your side to share his natural warmth with you until you got to the car. He knew you didn’t bring any extra clothes and assumed you didn’t have your undershirt on. You found yourself smiling at that, the simple action, the extra step he didn’t have to take but did because it mattered to him.

You start to feel yourself warm up a bit when you hear the screeching of tires on the asphalt. A noise that always bothered you, you’re version of nails on a chalkboard. You look over to your left trying to spot where the noise was coming from. You saw an older white suburban driving atleast 20 miles over the speed limit barreling down the road. Technically, you weren’t quite on the clock yet so you choose to ignore it to savor the warmth of Leon’s arms. You take one more peek over to see the suburban now almost lined up with you and Leon, driving significantly slower than before. The rear window rolled down uncovering the flash of black metal that made you freeze in place. You didn’t know what to do, after all you were just a rookie. Before you knew it, instinct took over jolting yourself infront of Leon. That’s when you heard the noise. Loud, deep, popping noises and the roar of an engine, coming from the now distant suburban.

You feel yourself thrown back, assuming it was just your reaction to the gunshots, you instantly turn to Leon grabbing onto his uniform. Checking him up and down to make sure he is okay, when you see no signs of injury you look back up to his face only to see him now grown pale.

“What?! Did they get you? Are you okay!? Answer me Leon!” You mutter out, barely audible towards the end. ‘Why did I sound like that’ you thought, grip tightening on Leon’s collar, feeling your legs give out at the white hot pain coming from your stomach. Leon grabs onto your shirt as you fall, lessening the blow to the ground slightly. You still feel the air leave you lungs on the impact to the hard concrete pushing your eyes shut with pain. When they reopen you feel the pressure of what seems to be Leon’s hands on your stomach. You yelp out at the sensation, looking down to see blood pooling over his hands pushed against your stomach creating a little pool of blood on you.

“L-Leon” you cough out trying to get his attention. You cringe at the taste of copper in your mouth. Your breathing felt interrupted, like when you drink water and it goes down the wrong pipe.

He looked down at you, not moving his arms from their position pushing onto your stomach at a feeble attempt at stopping the bleeding. His face had a look you’ve never seen before with blood splattered on his cheeks, probably from the initial shots. You didn’t know why you were so calm. Probably the adrenaline, you just wished you could’ve given some of it to Leon.

“Help somebody help me!!” Leon cried out, tears streaming down his face mixing with your blood to create pink streaks down his neck. He looked around screaming for help over and over again but nobody came. Nobody was coming. He realized when minutes of his screaming and your bleeding had gone by. When he finally accepted that no one was coming he released his hands from your stomach. His arms now covered in your blood he grabbed onto you cradling you in his arms.

You managed to grab onto his arm with the little power you had left. You didn’t feel any pain anymore. You were glad, glad the pain was gone. But if the pain coming back meant you could tell Leon all the words you had still yet to say, you would take the pain a thousand times over to tell him you love him.

Leon held you in his arms, without the pressure of his hands on your wounds you started losing blood much faster. The once white concrete now covered in a puddle of your crimson blood. Seeping into the cracks, streaming off the side of the curb. His arms were painted in your blood aswell. Blood that was now transferring on your cheeks as he held you. Caressing your face rocking back and forth to comfort himself more than anything. By that point he knew you were already gone. Leon whispered under his breath barely audible “I love you” over and over hoping maybe if he said it enough he’d wake up from the nightmare.

He was so afraid of loving you before. So afraid of hurting you, your job, your reputation, but what was the point? You’re gone. He never even said it. Never said what he couldn’t stop repeating now but it was too late. You were already gone, just a bloodied shell of who you once were, and you never got to hear him say it.

“I love you”

Whoops!

Sorry if that was a little morbid but I had an idea and had to write it #yall asked for the pt2

[anjee0]

Road trip

Female!reader x 2000s!Eminem (Feel free to put in your own oc insert)

Description - Y/n and her friends get invited by Marshall's and his friends for a road trip, where things take an unexpected twist between Y/n and Marshall.

Warnings - Light swearing, Y/n and Marshall hated each other, awkward and tense scenes, light smut.

Requested by @sweetmusicvoid

i thought it might be neat to have some sort of friend group where the reader and marsh are kind of enemies, and the group is going on a road trip together. but she’s forced to sit on his lap in this trailer that’s attached to the car. tension, light smut, etc. anyway, it was just a thought :)

“Y/n, please!” Carla begged as she tried to pull Y/n out of her bed.

“Please! It'll be fun!” Ashley exclaimed, also trying to pull Y/n out.

“Girls, I already said no. Especially if Marshall is going to be there.” Y/n replied, adding a dramatic scoff to the end of her sentence.

Y/n and Marshall hated each other's guts for as long as they could both remember. Something about his cocky attitude and bursting ego made her see him solely as an unlikeable person. And now that he had become famous, selling over a million records on his latest album, his attitude and ego only continued to inflate.

However, Y/n's friends and Marshall's friends were close with each other, meaning that the pair would see each other quite frequently. Him and his friends planned on going on a car ride with a trailer attached to the back. They'd also decided to invite Y/n and her friends.

“You know, for someone who hates Marshall, you seem to talk about him a lot.” Carla teased.

Ashley smirked, wanting to join in on the bantering fun. “And I see the way you both look at each other. Especially Marshall.”

“Oh my gosh. Guys, seriously, you sound like little kids. I don’t like him like that. I don’t like him at all.”

“Whatever you say.” Carla joked.

“And what's so fun about going on a car ride with a trailer attached to the back? Like what do we do?” Y/n asked.

“Well, we're going to drive to a quiet place first, then we're gonna hang out in the trailer. Have some drinks, eat some food and so on.” Ashley said.

“Hang out in a trailer? All 6 of us?” Y/n questioned.

“Yes.” Carla replied. “I know it sounds boring but it's going to be great!”

“Is drinking in a cramped space with 6 people a good idea?” Y/n asked.

“The trailer’s not that small. Remember, the guys are super rich so they were able to get their hands on quite a big trailer.” Ashley said.

“Y/n, please. It’ll be so worth it.” Carla pleaded.

“I still don't believe you but I guess I'll go then.” Y/n said, reluctantly giving in.

Carla and Ashley whooped cheerily as they jumped onto the bed with Y/n, happy to know that she was tagging along.

“But I'm ignoring Marshall.”

“Ignore Marshall all you want, we're just glad to hear you're coming. Alright, get changed.” Ashley said.

Y/n got changed into a mini black dress where the hemline sat just right on her upper thigh. It was decorated with small ruffles and tied with silky white ribbons in the back. She got changed into a shiny and stunning— yet comfortable pair of black boots. To top it off, she wore her hair in a half-up half-down, bringing her outfit all together.

A while later, Denaun, Proof and Marshall pulled up in front of Y/n’s house in their car. Denaun honked the horn repeatedly, letting the girls know that they were outside. The girls wasted no time rushing outside and opening the car door to let themselves in. Denaun and Proof sat in the front, whilst Marshall sat in the back. A grey medium-sized trailer was attached to the back. Y/n still had her doubts on how spacious it could be.

“Hey ladies.” Denaun greeted. “Are we ready to go?”

“Sure are.” Carla replied as she got in the car, sliding herself next to Marshall. 

Ashley followed up after her, filling up the seats in the backseat. Y/n caught a flash of a cocky smirk on Marshall’s face.

“Uh oh. Seats are filled up. You can stay back at home.” Marshall teased.

“Fuck you Marshall.” Y/n retorted. “Can you guys move up please?” She asked her friends.

Without any hesitation, Carla and Ashely moved up as much they could, only leaving a sliver of space for Y/n to sit on. She had a moment of hesitation before she sat down and closed the door. She'd have to admit, she felt awfully uncomfortable. Her body felt sandwiched between the car door and Ashely. The space felt tight, just like her chest as she struggled to take a proper breath.

“Jeez, how tiny is your car?” Carla asked. “I'm suffocating here.”

“Guess there's not enough space for 4 people.” Y/n muttered.

“What do we do?” Ashley asked.

“One of you can sit on my lap.” Marshall suggested with a smug look on his face.

“Wow Marshall. Honestly I'm not surprised, being the guy you are, of course you would suggest-” Y/n started to ramble.

“Chill, Y/n. I don't want you sitting on my lap. I was talking to Ashley and Carla.” He interrupted.

Y/n scoffed and muttered a small “Whatever” under her breath as she rolled her eyes. She couldn't help but feel a bolt of jealousy to strike in her system. She immediately shook her head of those thoughts, convincing herself that she wasn't jealous.

“I'll pass.” Carla said.

“Same here.” Ashley replied.

“Well, we're gonna have to figure something out.” Proof said. “And you'll have to do it quickly.”

“Well I guess Y/n sitting on my lap doesn't sound like a nightmare.” Marshall mumbled, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“No way.” Y/n replied, feeling disgusted at the thought of even going near him.

Ashley leaned into Y/n's ear and softly whispered. “You're our only chance.”

“I am not sitting on his lap.”

“Y/n please?” Carla pleaded. “We will leave you alone after this.”

Y/n sighed, accepting her defeat and reluctantly giving in. “Fine whatever. But you guys owe me.”

Carla and Ashley immediately thanked her as she got out of the car and went to the other side. Y/n opened the door and gave a disappointed look to Marshall, who looked smugly thrilled.

“Hurry up, princess.” Marshall said with a dumb smirk on his face.

“Don't call me that.” Y/n replied sharply, making her way into his lap.

As Y/n sat on his lap, she felt a strange feeling brewing in her stomach, it only continued to rise when he put his arms around her waist.

“You don't have to do that.” She said, taking his arms off her.

“But you don't have a seat belt.” Marshall replied.

“So you're trying to be my seat belt?”

“Pretty much.”

“I'm fine.”

“Whatever you want.”

Moments later, the car started up and they were all driving off. Conversations emerged from the group as the car drive progressed. Y/n would put her two cents in every now and then, but would spend most her time listening.

During the car ride, Y/n could feel Marshall's eyes boring into the back of her skull. She could feel his eyes wandering all over the back of her head, probably pulling off a smirk.

Suddenly, the car hit a sudden stop, making everyone fall forward. As Y/n tumbled forward, she could see she was about to hit her face on the headrest in front of her. But before that could happen, Marshall wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to prevent any damage. Her back rested against his chest, his arms still around her. Luckily, everyone had their seatbelts on to prevent anything bad. 

“Shit. Is everyone okay?” Denaun asked, looking back.

“What was up with the sudden break?” Proof asked.

“Saw a cat run across the street.”

Y/n let go of Marshall's hold and sat up properly, fixing herself up. Marshall leaned forward slightly and whispered in her ear: “Are you okay?” His hot breath tickled against her skin, gliding down her neck. 

Y/n felt a strange airy feeling in her chest and stomach as she tried to keep her composure. “I'm fine.” She responded.

For the rest of the car ride, Marshall had his arms around her, holding her close. Y/n felt a sense of comfort and reassurance in his touch, something she would've never expected.

Eventually, the car stopped in the middle of a field, surrounded by a deep woods. Y/n stepped out of the car, feeling relieved. The sky was dark and littered with twinkling stars. 

“Yo there's a pizza place nearby here. We should head there. It's walking distance.” Proof said.

“Alright, let's go then.” Carla said.

“I'll stay here.” Y/n said.

“Are you sure?” Ashley asked.

“Yeah, I'm kinda tired. I might just rest in the trailer then.”

“Let me open it for you.” Denaun said. He took his keys out of his pocket and fiddled around looking for the correct key. He finally found the correct one and put the key in the door to unlock it.

Y/n thanked him before stepping in and closing the door behind her. A wave of shock hit her when she saw the inside of the trailer. It was spacious and definitely had the capacity to fit 6 people in. The outside definitely gave it an different impression. There was at the door at the end that led to a cosy looking bedroom. There were two beds on both sides, making the bedroom a bit cramped, but still cosy.

Y/n threw her shoes off and belly flopped onto the bed. Her head hit the soft cushiony pillows that brought her comfort. The thick blanket felt warm against her cold body. She relaxed against the bed, feeling calm and steady. She basked herself in tranquil atmosphere that surrounded her.

The moment was quickly interrupted when the door swung wide open, ruining the peacefulness. When Y/n looked up, she was confused to see Marshall standing at the door, looking at her with the same confused expression.

“What are you doing here?” She mumbled, sitting up.

“I'm tired so I said I'd go rest. They didn't tell me you were in here.” 

“Well I'm tired too.”

Marshall sat on the bed across from her and leaned against the wall with his knees up. He sighed and rested his arms on his knees whilst he dropped his head down.

“Whats up with you?” Y/n asked.

“Nothing. Just tired is all. Working on the next album.”

“Already? Didn't you come out with one recently?”

“Yeah I know-”

“If I were you, I would try to appreciate the moment, instead of working my ass non-stop.”

“Don't tell me what to do.” 

Y/n chuckled and shook her head. “You know I'm right, asshole.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Marshall lifted his head and decided to speak up. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“Well, because you're annoying.” 

“Yeah right.”

“What?”

“You like me, don't you?”

“Excuse me?” 

“You like me. Romantically.”

Y/n scoffed, feeling a spike of annoyance in her blood. “Listen, Marshall. Just because you're famous now and you have a bunch of groupies jumping on you, doesn't mean that every girl that looks at you likes you. Especially me.”

She got off the bed and made her way to the door, only for Marshall to grab her hand, stopping her. Y/n turned to look at him, immediately noticing the realness in his eyes.

“Sit. Please.” He asked, his voice firm.

Something about his serious tone made Y/n give in and sit next to him. His hand let go of hers.

“You know I was just messing around right?” He went back to resting against the wall. “I was just teasing.”

“Right, is that why you stopped me from leaving? To tell me that?”

“Mhm.”

A moment of silence and hesitation hung in the air between them. Y/n looked around, trying to escape the awkwardness surrounding her in the room. 

They had a quick second of eye contact, in which Y/n was able to take a proper look at Marshall’s face. His eyes looked drained from any emotion, and looked hollow and empty of any feelings. His lips were lightly pressed into a small frown.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked.

“I'm fine.”

“You seem off.”

“Just stressed.”

“From work?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why don't you take a break?”

“It's not that easy.”

“Maybe you need some to help you take your mind off it.”

“That's what this is for. Proof and Denaun were concerned I was overworking myself.”

“Maybe you are.”

“Maybe I am.”

Another beat of silence quickened in the air, although quick, it was slow enough to let tension build up even more.

“And you?” Marshall asked. “How are you doing?”

Y/n sighed and leaned against the wall next to Marshall. “I'm stressed with work too. My boss is driving me nuts.”

Marshall let out a quiet chuckle. “It can be like that. Maybe you need something to help take your mind off it too.”

“Maybe I do. But nothing ever works.”

“This is.”

“What is?”

“This. Us talking. It's nice to have a moment like this when we're not at each other's throats.”

“That is true. Very true.” Y/n smiled to herself, realising how tranquil the conversation was between them, the complete opposite to their many ones in the past.

“That dress looks nice on you.” Marshall mumbled.

“Sorry?” Y/n had to double check that she heard him correctly.

“The dress looks nice on you.”

“Oh.. thanks.” Y/n replied, still trying to process the moment.

“What, do you not believe me?”

“No, I do. It's just, I never would've expected that from you.”

Marshall let out a small hum in response.

“I know I said I hated it, but I think the blonde hair suits you.” Y/n said.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She kissed her teeth and nodded slowly. “It's uh… cute.”

They both turned their heads to look at each other, making eye contact. This time, they didn't turn away in a second or disrupt the moment. Instead, they let it grow. The tension between them reached a high point, to which it grew thicker and thicker. Like a rope, attached to the both of them, bringing them closer and closer to each other.

As the distance between them shrunk, Y/n glanced at Marshall’s lips. She took notice of how soft and pink they were. And in that moment, the space between them closed, letting their lips touch. She brought her hand to the back of Marshall's neck, bringing him closer to seal the kiss.

Marshall placed his hands on Y/n's hips and moved her closer to him, placing her in his lap. As the kiss continued, with each second, they both realised that this wasn't a useless kiss that was empty of emotion. But rather, fill to the brim with sparks and feelings. They pulled away, intensely looking at each other, unable to take their gaze away. 

“Do- do you wanna carry on?” Y/n asked shyly, her voice quiet.

“Yeah. I'd like that. It'll be a while till they come back.” Marshall replied, his voice sounding eager.

Immediately after that response, they pulled in for another kiss. This time, there was desire and passion behind it. Marshall pulled the hem of Y/n's dress, asking permission to take it off. She took it off in an instant, leaving her in her lingerie.

Marshall pulled away to take a look at Y/n, admiring her. His eyes travelled along her body, taking in her curves and perfect figure. 

“Gosh, you're beautiful.” He murmured.

She couldn't help but smile as a deep splash of pink reached her face from the flattery of Marshall's compliment. The next few minutes were a blur, clothes came off in quick seconds and were tossed onto the floor.

Marshall kissed along Y/n's neck, murmuring a string of sentences under his breath as he laid her down on the bed. He cupped her breasts and massaged them softly in circles, watching with intent as Y/n squirmed under him.

“I need you Marshall.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Marshall inserted himself into her, letting out a guttural groan from the pleasure. He started moving, first slow and steady rolls with soft pressure that soon turned into fast and hard thrusts, each letting a ripple of arousal through Y/n.

His dick moved against her velvety walls in smooth and quick motions. Y/n's airy moans and Marshall's throaty groans mixed with the sounds of their skin slapping against each other and the bed creaking. The temperature in the room increased, as their faces became more flushed and sweaty.

With one last thrust, Marshall came inside, letting his hot, thick spurts of white string squirt into Y/n and coat her walls. She let out a loud and pleasant moan as her eyes rolled back to the back of her skull, being overdriven from the delightful feeling. Marshall collapsed on top of her, his weight mode comforting than crushing.

“Wow… I really… needed that.” Y/n whispered, taking breaths in between her words.

“Gosh…yeah.” Marshall replied softly into her ear.

They stayed close to each other for a minute two, basking in the sweet moment between them as they tried to catch their breaths. That, however, was quickly stopped when the muffled voices of the rest of the group were heard outside, coming back with the pizza.

“Shit, they're back.” Marshall said as he got off from Y/n.

She wished he could stay on her for longer but she knew she couldn't risk letting her friends see her like this. The pair scrambled to put their clothes back on and fix themselves up before the group returned. They heard the door to the trailer clock open, Y/n decided to quickly jump over to the bed opposite.

The door to the bedroom swung open, revealing the group holding their pizza boxes. 

“Who's hungry? We've got pizza!” Proof exclaimed.

“Everything okay?” Ashley asked.

“Yeah, yeah. We're fine. I just took a nap.” Y/n responded.

“Huh, well we're gonna have pizza outside. Come join us when you're ready.” Carla said.

And with that, the group left the room, closing the door behind them as they went outside, ready to start their pizza feast.

“Well, we should probably go eat then.” Y/n said.

“Y/n. I like you.” Marshall said, his voice barely audible and gentle.

In that moment, Y/n felt a mix of emotions bubbling inside of her. Confusion, shock and surprisingly a sense of happiness and relief too.

“You like me?” Y/n asked, her voice matching the gentle tone in Marshall's voice.

“I have for a while. I didn't know how to approach you with it since you hated me.”

Y/n felt a twist of guilt in her veins as she listened to Marshall. She sat on his bed and looked at him with intent, showing him that she was ready to listen and talk.

“I can't deny that what we just did definitely brought out some chemistry between us.” Y/n said. “I'd be an idiot to ignore it.”

“Are you saying that we should try… us? Like, us being a thing?” 

“We should. If that's something we're comfortable and ready for.”

“I am. Are you?”

“I am too.”

“Well then that's settled.”

“And if it doesn't work out, let's just try being friends then.”

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

Y/n placed a tender kiss on Marshall’s forehead before sharing a soft and warm smile with him. “Come on, let's go eat.”

A/N: Finally got this request finished! Hopefully you enjoyed it :))

[rueharley]

"Still being quiet?"

RafeCameronxquietreader

(Heavily implied smut)

18+ minors DNI.

I can never explain how I feel to the extent that I feel it, so I don't speak much. I've never been loud, always delicate with my participation to noise pollution, and Rafe never seemed to mind.

He knows how to understand that look in my eye, he often knows what I need before I ask for it.

It it common practice for me to repeat myself, but he never loses patience, just asking for me to say it again.

I hate to admit that I'm quiet, though it is completely obvious, especially since Rafe is quite the extrovert.

Being shy and being quiet are two different things. I'm not always shy, I can have a lot of grit sometimes, I was raised that way. But I am always quiet, sometimes not even intentionally. My demeanour is quiet, my existence is silent, and Rafe will just listen with patience.

I often wonder how he is so okay and unbothered by my quietness, because I know it can be annoying at times. He always says he likes my quietness. He says because he can read me so well I'm not actually as quiet as I think I am.

He always respects my preferences, if I don't want to speak he doesn't mind. If I don't want to make a sound he'll let me be silent.

However there is a certain thing he won't let me be quiet about - in fact, he makes it his mission to get as much of a reaction from me as possible.

I didn't reply, feeling temporarily in a trance from his breath on my skin, his body pressed into mine as he has me backed against a wall.

"Still being quiet, hm?" Rafes hot breath caresses my skin

His hands slide under my shirt and he feels the curves of my waist. I exhaled shakily, the feeling of his smooth, warm hands over me making my skin tingle.

"don't worry, I'll get some pretty noises from you soon," he murmurs, his lips kissing and sucking on the skin of my neck, an occasional hum coming from. Him.

My body was almost shivering for his touch, against all the touch he gave me that wasn't enough.

"baby.. Baby.. I want to hear you, let me know it feels good.." his voice laced in a smooth, sultry tone.

He comes close to my ear and begins to whisper in a low, almost gravely tone, "I can feel it, how your body craves me.. You don't got to be shy.. Never feel shy around me.."

I quickly reply "I don't feel shy around you," his gaze locked with mine as I spoke. A hint of amusement in his eyes from my response.

I felt my cheeks blush slightly, his tone, the look in his icy blue eyes - full of desire and want.

"then Why you holding back on me, baby?" he asked in almost a mocking tone.

His slow, sloppy kisses along my collarbone leaving behind a moist trail of saliva that chilled as the air reached it.

"I'm gonna get 'em from you anyway," he mumbles, leaning in and continuing to kiss on my neck.

He traveled his kisses up my neck, keeping me hypnotised and following along with the touch of his lips.

He suddenly bites down on the skin of my neck, causing a sound between a sigh and a whimper to come from me.

I felt him smirk and he swirled his tongue over that spot of my neck to soothe it.

I could feel my breathing shallow and shaking as my body tried to handle the pleasure he gave me.

"hm" he hummed in approval as he continued to kiss along my neck, occasionally softly biting down.

He pushed his lips onto mine, capturing me into a kiss. His tongue quickly, and with without request, slides into my mouth and began exploring.

His hands slowly slide down my waist. I sighed into the kiss, my body practically begging for more of his touch.

I felt him gently bite down on my bottom lip, as if to say 'focus on the kiss'. I did as he implied.

His hands continue to slide down my body, going to my hips. He traced his fingers along the waistband of my jeans.

His hands grabbed the belt loops and he used it to tug my hips closer to him. A satisfied, playful, smile met with his lips.

I smiled as i felt my hips pressed up against his and the smile on his lips. His hand slowly began fiddling with the button on my jeans, causing a slightly different expression on my face.

He chuckled softly at my reaction before he continued to travel his hand down.

He began to kiss my lips again, my mind torn between focusing on his touch or focusing on his kiss.

His hand stop just above the elastic of my underwear, making my breath hitch. He pulled from the kiss, only far enough to be able to look into my eyes.

His fingers toy with the edge of the elastic, before slowly slipping under.

"surely this will get you to make a sound," he says in a teasing tone.

His eyes were trained on mine, watching every expression of mine.

My heartbeat was fluttering with each sound of his breath. I felt entirely possessed by his touch, like I was just craving anything that he gave me, and he was giving it to me.

"cmon.. Make a sound, baby.." he purrs in my ear as his fingers dance teasingly under the elastic of my underwear.

".. Make a sound.." he whispers as he begins to nibble on a spot on my neck. This combined with his teasing fingers caused me to give up. Letting out a soft, desperate sounding moan.

He let out a quiet, satisfied chuckled as he pulled away.

"told you I'd get you to crack" he says a smug, playfull smile on his face.

I kept my gaze on his, "well, don't get all high and mighty about it" I huffed, playfully.

"that was just the warm up, baby" he says with a smile, his body slowly pressing me closer to the wall, "and I know you can do so much better than that.."

[trippygalaxy]

YOOOOOOO CONGRATS ON 400 FOLLOWERS TRIPPYYYYY 🎉🎉🎉

and for my request, could I request either platonic Legend or Four with a reader who really REALLY wants to be affectionate with their new friend who they got close to quickly, but because of having literally zero experience with physical affection being given from anyone ever (like friends or family rarely ever hugging them that often) they are SO afraid of going about cuddling or even just casual touches 'wrong'

like. reader just wants to cuddle or literally just lean against their friend while the Chain are relaxing at camp but is too shy or embarrassed to ask

(What not being hugged enough as a child does to a mf 😭)

Lessons

OOOO I do love a good platonic fic! Also this is very specfific, i am sending many hugs to you Anon <3

Summary: The Ask Above!

Characters: Legend & GN!Reader (Platonic) Warnings: Legend has a weird way of speaking tbh, reader is touch starved and unsure how to give touch, no romance anywhere Words: 900+

"What's your deal?"

A voice cuts through your anxious thoughts, rough with traces of concern, a voice familiar yet one you dreaded in this moment. Looking up from picking at your nails, you find the veteran staring down at you with furrowed brows and crossed arms.

"Nothing," You grumbled, scooting away from the hero as he unceremoniously plops down beside you.

Though the hero isn't too far from you, his warmth feels miles away and as suffocating as a blanket. You can feel your tendons tense, discomfort of unfamiliarity gnawing at your raised hairs. It was dumb- you're hands twitched, wanting to reach out and at least have a pinky on the pink hero's form but your hands felt like stone, unable to move.

"Don't think it is," The hero grumbles back, watching you from the corner of his eye. "You don't be sulkin by yourself so often, but you've been a hermit all day. Whats up?"

You hated how perspective the hero was. And you hated how he always knew what someone was feeling- most of the chain assumed that the hero, as rough around the edges as he was, wouldn't pay that much attention to group outside of battle. But he did, he wouldn't say anything directly, but you could see how he would always have food on him when Hyrule got more and more tired from overusing his magic, how he almost always had a story to tell Wind when the boy was hanging his head, how he'd herd the boys when he saw Time getting to his limit. The hero of Legend was a veteran of people and adventures.

WHICH SUCKED!!!

"I just..." You trail off.

How would you explain this without sounding crazy? Or weird? Or sounding overdramatic?

"Does it have anythin to do with our new guide?" He huffs, eyes trailing off to the new form huddled by the fire with the champion.

Ignoring the growing embarrassment on your cheeks, your knees curl up to your chest as you avoid the hero's dark eyes. A sound of vague understanding comes form the hero, much to your dismay.

"It's just that..." Biting your lip, you cast your eyes to the new, friendly figure who laughs with the scarred hero before facing the grass once more.

This guide, a new friend that the chain welcomed into the group as they were in need of a knowledgeable mind to aid them through this new, twisting Hyrule, was a soul more gentle than any you've ever faced. They were kind, and funny, and sweet and understanding-- an unfamiliar face you wished to know, but as the boys clap them on the back, bump shoulders and high five...the movements felt so foreign to you. You wanted nothing more than to be beside them, to join in with their laughs, your hand landing on their shoulder as your bellies ache from laughter but the idea made your stomach twist and hand burn.

What if it wasn't the same? Would you offend them? Would they see it in a light you didn't meant to shine? What was the rules to this game you weren't pick for?

"Hey," A gentle voice startles you from your thoughts, Legend, who looks at you so softly that the burn in your nerves soothe. "Look, I dont have a damned clue what your thinkin about or whats the issue, but I aint about to judge ya for it. I promise."

It...wasn't often that the hero- or any of them- made promises...

"I just...I want to be like the chosen or rancher." You sigh, sniffling from the cold night air. "They- they just have these hands and hearts made to reach out and hug but...I- I was never taught that. My heart and hands are rough, they're sweaty and unsure and I just want..."

"Touch?" Legend offers.

"Yeah..." You sigh, hands rubbing your face. "A-and I know it sounds stupid but--"

"It aint stupid." The hero scoffs. "Look, I aint the best with this stuff but...If I can offer some advice or words of wisdom than...Nothing you've done has made us uncomfortable, and if it did than we talked to ya, didn't we? Cause as much as we hold in, we say even more, and our new friend aint any different either. You don't know until you try, and if you cant try first, than just ask. I know it sounds scary, but whats scarier? Having a small conversation, or facing a reality where you made someone you care for uncomfortable around you?"

Silence washes over the both of you as the words tumbling from the hero's mouth comes to an end. Another chime of laughter dances in the air, and this time it doesn't bring tension or raised nerves. It...was peaceful, you guessed.

"Thats easier said than done, ya know?" You turn to Legend with a weary smile.

The boy faces you with a shrug. "Everything is, but this is an issue you wanna solve, right?"

You nod, looking over your shoulder to where your new friend stands, cradling a cup of...something. "Then you gotta solve it, you aint got nobody to hold your hand and walk you through personal relationships. You get advice, but then its you who has to follow through."

"Thats stupid."

"Yeah well, so are you it seems."

"Hey!" Your hand meets the man's shoulder, who offers nothing but a mirth filled huff.

Dusting off your hand, the hero stands with a quiet grunt, stretching his legs before turning back to you, that soft look but an echo now but still there. "You'll be fine, I promise ya."

And just like that, the hero and his wack ass boots turn on his heel and head back into the center of the camp. His words where...harsh, but sometimes a blunt reality check is needed when you're too stuck in your own head.

[olderthannetfic]

another round of "smut in my native language is so bad" bs coming from Europeans (im saying Europeans bc they're by far the largest section that complains about this openly. I'm sure Latin Americans and Asians have similar takes wrt their languages but they're not as loud about it) and I came across this gem, and I paraphrase: "I cant even imagine having sex with someone from my country because I'd have to listen to their dirty talk, that's why I only fuck foreigners who speak English"

... what?

every single of these stupid posts - esp if they come from monolingual EFL speakers - about mocking languages - be they Germanic, Slavic, Romance, or Celtic - is just in such bad taste to me, and the reason as to why this hits European languages primarily is pretty much the same as every single food discourse of people (primarily Americans, be they white or not!) making fun of traditional European dishes - because they cant say the same thing about "strange" Asian or African dishes without being correctly called out as xenophobic racists and/or they simply have none of that on their radar (as we all know, everyone online is American, and if they're not American, they're European. If you're not American or European, you're a spy, and if you're not a spy either, you don't exist bc these other countries speak neither english nor do they have internet, phones or free time)

if you're already giggling about how strange and unerotic (? lol) French, German, Polish or whatever sound, I dont even wanna know what you think about the sexiness potential of a language where you cant even read the script but won't be saying that because This will be the straw that breaks the camel's back

but getting off my little soapbox and pivoting back to the paraphrased quote:

when this comes from smug EFL speakers, im annoyed and they can catch some blocks, but ESL speakers joining in on this? oh boy, you are unspeakably... sad to me? i genuinely dont know how you are living and talking to people on a daily basis in that native language you hate so much, but then again, at royal courts, French used to be in so everyone learned it. but the specific of only ever being intimate with foreigners BECAUSE of them not speaking your language... this is just so fucking weird to me in a way i can't put my finger on. it feels so deeply insecure in yourself and while i guess this person is free to do whatever they like and fuck whoever they want to... 🫥. i guess

maybe im the asshole for trying to psychoanalyse that person but the general attitude, be it specific about smut or some "hihi haha, naeeee, imäginé spèåking likë thåt" bullshit, just needs to be carried into its grave already (as does the food discourse, for that matter)

--

English wasn't good for writing things down... until it was. I know it's hard to be the trail blazer who goes "Actually, our vernacular is awesome!", but I wish more people would try.

(Side note: Are we using EFL and ESL the same way? EFL = English as a Foreign Language, and is a term for teaching English in a non-English majority context. ESL = English as a Second Language and is used more to talk about teaching English to immigrants to the US or another English-speaking place. I think some places also just use EFL where I'd use ESL.)