#i had been for a while but i lost the game chip a while ago and just found it

[autisticqueenorder]

[osamucide]

⊹ SEMI-CHARMED LIFE

SHE COMES 'ROUND AND SHE GOES DOWN ON ME AND I MAKE HER SMILE LIKE A DRUG FOR YOU . . . ft. Sigma and Osamu Dazai

wc: 6.4k

cw: sigma x dazai x gn(they/them)+afab!reader, post-canon/canon divergent, language, some plot, explicit sexual content—MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, threesome, coaching/guiding, fingering, handjobs, cunnilingus, nipple play, penetration, double penetration, double creampie, spit, teasing, dirty talk, so much kissing, praise, communication, squirting, soft sex, rough sex, hints of fluff and angst, soft dazai, a little bit of mean dazai, switch leaning soft dom!dazai, switch leaning sub!+virgin!sigma, switch!reader, pet names (baby, sweetheart, slut, whore—last two used very affectionately), use of cunt/pussy referring to reader’s anatomy, gambling/strip poker, alcohol+slight dubcon on account of that but otherwise all parties are happily consenting prior, references to pm!reader (and ada!sigma if you squint) but it’s not super relevant, some spoilers for vampire infection outbreak arc/prison break, god will judge me when i’m dead

reid: i have limited knowledge of texas holdem and a huge boner for sigzai. that’s all enjoy

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

“Son of a bitch.”

You sigh and lift your martini to your lips again. It should be too late for a martini, but Sigma's living quarters in the casino is outfitted with a less-than-modest liquor cabinet and while he didn't strike you as much of a drinker himself at first—not while he was on the job, anyway—he could bartend like you wouldn’t have believed had you never seen him do it. Vodka martini, no olive, please.

He had transferred it from his hand to yours with a soft smile that echoed his customer service face; however, he was significantly and refreshingly off the clock, so he addressed you playfully, “007,” as he did and laughed a little as he settled back onto the bed, cross-legged in a triangle made up of you, him, and Dazai.

But that was hours ago. The martini you sip now is your third, and Dazai had graciously made himself at home enough to messily pour up shots between poker games, so it’s safe to say you’re at least a little drunk. Sigma had been looking on in quiet irritation at him spilling remnants of expensive alcohol all over the expensive snakewood. The casino manager couldn’t seem to help but be disarmed by the detective every time he turned around, though, face beneath his messy brown hair alight with intoxication and beaming as he distributed yet another over-poured ounce of sake to both of you still on the duvet. You all drank, poker commenced, money was won and lost.

But that was just the first game. There’s higher stakes this time around.

“I have to fold.” You curse at your shitty hand once more and glance to Dazai, who’s flicking all of his little plastic chips toward the pot.

Of course it was Dazai who’d suggested the stipulations for this game, and of course it’s Dazai who is now letting the words “I’m all in” roll off his tongue while he looks charmingly bored and tipsy.

A few games would not be enough to figure out Dazai’s tells. In fact, a few hundred games would probably not be enough to learn to read him. If it wasn’t evident enough already from his excitement about the idea that he was unconcerned about his chances of being the one with the most clothing left on, it’s certainly evident in the way he’s relaxed now, his fist propping him up by his cheekbone. He peeks at his cards again from where he lounges on his side before he looks up to Sigma with bright eyes and a grin, quiet with mischief.

Sigma could go either way, it seems, from the way his tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth as he idles with an unruly stack of chips. He’s far more expressive, but this is his livelihood; it showed when he faked Dazai out of a 30,000 yen pot last game. Still, this time, this showdown, he pushes the rest of his pile into the center. All in.

The detective flips his cards, pinched between his middle and index finger. Straight flush.

Sigma clicks his tongue and whips his cards down onto the duvet. Straight.

“Hah!” Dazai kicks his feet like a child before sitting up to hoard the large pile. “You both know the rules,” he sings, copying Sigma’s posture as he grabs handfuls of his newly-won chips and lets them rain down over his head. A couple fall into his empty whisky glass.

You and Sigma look briefly at one other before both holding your drinks out for the conniving bastard in front of you to hold, which he does. There’s no agreed-upon piece with which you would begin to undress, so, like any sane person, you reach for your socks.

“Mh-mm,” Dazai hums his dissent through a sip of your martini. “I wanna change one rule. Losers have to undress each other.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s socks, Osamu.”

“Precedent,” he claims with a shrug, switching to take a sip of Sigma’s French 75.

So you and Sigma commence removing each other’s socks in a way that particularly lacks even a little sexiness, but when Dazai starts giggling, you both do, too. You ball Sigma’s socks up and toss them at Dazai’s head, which he dodges and swats back at Sigma. Sigma chucks your own socks at you in return for the indirect fire.

“Hey!” you bite jokingly through your teeth, discarding your socks off the little island of a bed that you exist on right now with these two men, and a moment of reflection strikes you as Dazai buries his face in his hands and Sigma almost tips backwards as they both laugh.

It started months ago in Meursault when you tumbled into the block where Gogol was challenging Dazai and Fyodor to his game after freeing them from the Infinite Dice Room. You, as a low-profile, high-priority Port Mafia affiliate aligned closely with the gravity user Chuuya Nakahara, had followed him into the prison as reinforcement; how Gogol and Dostoevsky were even aware of your existence then, you still aren’t sure. But you ended up there, watching Dazai and Fyodor shoot up lethal poison before dispersing to make their escape. You originally stayed with Nikolai to watch it unfold, but scampered off at some point when Chuuya appeared in danger of drowning. Your ultimate goal had been to help the Detective Agency and by proxy Dazai, but you’d be damned if you stood by while your executive was in a dire situation. It all turned out well, except for Sigma’s prolonged comatose state immediately after the prison break and everything that followed. But all that wasn’t important—not to right now, anyway.

What sticks in your mind and resurfaces now was the way you had watched on the monitor as Dazai—a former associate of yours, to say the least—paraded Sigma through the halls of the prison, teasing him, poking at him, dancing with him. It would’ve been borderline-adorable behavior from anyone sane in a normal situation, but Dazai had a way of driving people to the edge with the timing of his antics, and Sigma was quick to crumble under the pressure of the circumstance. What sticks more is how quickly the casino manager surrendered his trust to the quirky brunette inmate along their journey out of the building that day.

And what sticks most is how Dazai looked at him.

You remember observing a hint of something in his gaze that was usually only reserved for people who held important information, nurses in hospitals who’d taken his phone, occasionally you and Chuuya back in the day if he was feeling especially unhinged—the like.

And you remember looking at Sigma the same way over the screen—all sharp features, milky skin, elegant locks, and a hot trigger finger. His conviction over his purpose was alluring to you, who always understood your purpose to be pure survival. To Dazai, whose purpose seemed to be dying. Sigma was something entirely different from either of you, and when you all reconnected by the chance of business after the chaos, it was difficult to ignore the feelings dredged up from such a stressful time. It wasn’t like you’d always had your eye on Dazai or anything—no, surely not—but anyway, the click between the three of you back in Yokohama was inevitably pursued outside of work. A former DOA associate, an Armed Detective, and a Port Mafia subexecutive meeting up in the Sky Casino for drinks and Texas hold ‘em was certainly unprofessional in one capacity or another, sure, but you can hardly find it in yourself to care as Dazai hands you your martini back, face pink from cracking up.

It’s funny to you, how you never feel out of place between them. Sigma is leaning over onto your shoulder to stifle his dying laughter. You just shake your head as Dazai picks up the cards to deal.

The next game whirls by. You are the first to end up without a shirt, where Dazai and Sigma, both with their seemingly endless respective streams of luck, split the winnings over an evenly-matched two pair. You sit sheepishly after it’s your turn to deal, trying desperately, now that you’re losing in a tangible way (the three of you never use real money), to conjure up ways to gain back some ground and maybe not finish out the night as the only one naked.

“Sigma, deal,” Dazai purrs as if this isn’t Sigma’s show. You have your arms crossed over your chest as two cards flutter down in front of you, and you look at them, thinking, hoping—yes, maybe if Sigma would put a Jack down you could—

But any strategy you’re beginning to formulate is effectively zapped off, like a power button on a remote extinguishing a television’s display, as Dazai takes your wrists in his hands and guides them down to your lap.

“Why are you sitting like that?” he asks so innocently. “You’re hot. Stop hiding.”

You’d be blushing if it wasn’t for the alcohol making an appearance on your cheeks already. You giggle a little again, his touch making you feel more lightheaded than anything you’ve drank thus far. Sigma turns to you for your action, but your eyes are locked onto Dazai’s, so he does the only thing that makes the most sense in his own intoxicated mind—he grips your chin, not too harshly, and turns your head toward himself, in all his pastel, angelic beauty.

“Your turn,” Sigma says gently. While he doesn’t comment on what Dazai has said, and although his hand doesn’t hold the same menace that Dazai’s seems to, the tilt of his lips speaks a silent agreement.

Just as both of their fingers are beginning to overwhelm you, they retreat.

And you look down at your cards again, and your train of thought is as good as gone.

“Um—sorry, uh…”

You push 6000 yen into the pot, and Dazai follows.

And soon enough, like clockwork, you’re removing your pants—no, Dazai is removing your pants as Sigma gathers his winnings, and you’re unbuttoning Dazai’s shirt, and this has to be some sort of plot against you, you think, because the room is suddenly hotter, nevermind the alcohol, and you swear Dazai and Sigma are exchanging looks the way you and Dazai had months ago before leaving Meursault.

But you keep your composure. If there’s one thing you were used to dealing with, it’s sexy, scheming men, and it’s rare you ever let them get the best of you. Poker aside, you won’t crack. You can’t. Your drunkenness, now subsiding into hazy exhaustion and a twinge of need you won’t admit to yourself just yet, bolsters your pride, if anything. These two will not break you. You’ll make sure it’s the other way around first.

Another two games pass, and you finally have the mind and hand to win, which is what leads you to the scene of Sigma inching Dazai’s underwear down his thighs.

The casino manager’s face is broken out madly. He’d lost his own shirt but in all remains the most clothed out of all three of you; your dignity is preserved in your undergarments, and Dazai only ‘tsks as he steps out of his boxers just to lay back down on his side, propped up on his hand, in his spot on the bed.

“Well,” the detective laments, his practiced dramatics coming out to play. “I’ve officially lost. What to do now…?”

You look as unfazed as you can by Dazai’s nudity; Sigma’s eyes, however, are everywhere but the brunette.

You hum thoughtfully, considering your nails. You have your little heatstroke from before under control, it seems, but you’re biting your bottom lip raw at the shift in the energy of the room.

You crawl to sit against the headboard of the bed, shooing Dazai out of your way as you do so—it’s the same luxurious snakewood that the liquor cabinet is made from, and it doesn’t budge when you lean back against it. Dazai sits beside you, one leg curled beneath him and the other hanging off the edge of the bed as you kick the duvet down at Sigma, adjusting yourself so your bare legs are extended and crossed at the ankle. You smirk, only softly. Dazai scoots closer to you when your pinkie wraps around one of his fingers.

Sigma, hunched in on himself at the end of the bed, breathes deeply as you turn your gaze to him and pat the spot on the other side of you. He’s willed up by the expectant look on Dazai’s face, and he takes his seat at your side; he looks to the brunette across your side profile, and you hook each of your legs over one of theirs.

“What else is there to do?”

The question comes from you as you look between them, stroking both their knuckles; Dazai’s expression grows more sinister by the second, and he looks past you too, to Sigma, whose eyes are wide. You follow Dazai’s vision.

Sigma gulps and finds himself nodding. He knows what at, but he can’t bring himself to say it as you flick your gaze down to his parted lips.

You lean in.

“This okay?”

He’s still nodding. His head only stills when your hand leaves Dazai’s and reaches up to cup his face.

And you kiss Sigma with an open mouth. He shivers and leans into you. Your hand falls back to blindly search for Dazai’s cock.

Dazai is half-hard just watching you slip your tongue past Sigma’s lips; you thumb his tip teasingly, giving him a few squeezes and drawing soft breaths from him as the pastel-haired man reaches up for your neck. It’s obvious Sigma’s never kissed anyone like this before, but he follows your lead like a first-time ballroom partner, letting you nip the beginnings of moans out of him as Dazai watches, watches.

When you pull back, Sigma is in awe. His eyes don’t open for a few seconds, and you smile, endeared.

“You’re a good kisser, Sigma.”

His eyes snap open. “R-really?”

You nod. “But I think Osamu could train you even better.”

Something flashes across Sigma’s face—not discontent or anxiety but pure surprise, and you turn back to Dazai for his appraisal. He’s biting the inside of his cheek as your fingers work him up and down, torturously slow. Before anything else can happen, you lean into Dazai; he’s eager to receive your lips, force the gasps that belong to you into your mouth. You think you’ll play them like a pair of cymbals, if they let you. If Dazai lets you. It’s looking like he might.

You tilt your head back as Dazai works his way down your throat, leaving bruising bite marks as you touch him. You find Sigma glazed over in awe—the next thing you do is encourage his face toward yours again, so you can kiss him while Dazai marks you. You don’t hold back the sighs that come from your diaphragm. Sigma swallows your breath with greed. You cup his jaw, your noses bump; he grows more confident by the second, and as Dazai traverses back up your neck, you leave him whining, removing your hand from his cock to push the two men’s faces together.

Soft hums reverberate between their kiss. You look proudly upon your work as their hands find one another, frantically, on jaws, on shoulders, on chests. Sigma reaches to pick up where you left off, but second guesses himself.

“It’s okay,” you whisper to him. “Right, Osamu?”

“Mmhm.” Dazai bites into the other man’s bottom lip. Sigma yelps into the lack of air between them. You guide his hand, which finds Dazai at his base and sends him moaning into the kiss.

With your hand wrapped around Sigma’s wrapped around Dazai, you latch onto Dazai’s neck to return his bites. Your head buzzes with anticipation; it’s so hot to watch them, low-lidded and on two different levels of experience, talking to each other without speaking. You move Sigma’s hand up, down, up, down. Dazai breaks away to let a full-bodied moan into the air; he makes up for contact by resting his forehead against Sigma’s, peering down at where the two of you are working him into a mess.

“That’s it,” Dazai pants, but he looks smug. “Unh—feels good.”

“Hear that?” With your free hand you tuck a thick lock of Sigma’s silvery hair behind his ear as you mumble into it. “You’re doing so good.”

“Tell me what to do,” Sigma breathes, and he sounds so desperate that it makes you throb. “Don’t know what ‘m doing, please, tell me what to do.”

“Exactly what you’re already doing.” You let go of his hand and let him stroke Dazai by himself. Dazai nods weakly, needily, cock twitching as Sigma explores; the pale-haired man’s thumb circles his tip the same way yours did, but faster. When you lean over to spit on his cock over Sigma’s hand, the brunette’s jaw falls slack and the two melt into another kiss; you don’t even have to enlist Dazai’s hands as, through his pleasure, he fumbles for you. You uncross your ankles, and he rubs you impatiently over the final bit of cloth that remains on your body. Your lips find Sigma's throat next.

All heaving breath against each other, you move like this for a bit, learning one another. Dazai reaches to pop the button on Sigma’s pants as he’s tugging at your underwear at the same time.

You both turn your focus to Sigma as you kick your last layer off; he stumbles upward, back onto his feet, and you and Dazai pursue him as he’s helping you both push his pants and boxers off in one collaborative swipe. He’s never been hard like this before—sure, Sigma’s not a stranger to sexual arousal, but he’s only ever touched himself. Call it a side effect of the imposter syndrome or throwing himself into his casino or the fact that this is his first time being alive, but as Dazai sits on the edge of the bed looking like a hungry animal and you toss his pants away, he can’t imagine why any two people as physically gorgeous, intellectually dominant, and purpose-driven as the two of you would want to engage with him like this. He’s excited, he can’t deny it—his cock is straining almost painfully as it bobs in the air now—but there’s a line of tears forming on his lash line, and you’re fast to catch him.

“Sigma,” you call him back from inside his head. Dazai’s fingers have found his hip; they rest there tenderly. “Sigma. We can stop. It’s okay.”

“No,” Sigma all but cries. He aches to be touched the same way you and himself were both touching Dazai. “No, no, don’t stop, I just—I’m—”

A single tear splits down his pretty pale skin. He looks back and forth between you both.

“Sigma,” you say firmly. “Talk to us. It’s important.”

“I—” He gathers himself, voice cracking only once. “I want this. I want it so bad. I can’t believe I deserve it. You’re both… I just don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want to... not be good.”

You look to Dazai, who looks uncharacteristically tired for a moment; it’s an understatement to say he understands exactly what Sigma is trying to articulate, but he’s not a man of sentiment, so you pick up the slack. Collaborative. You wind your fingers between Sigma’s and lead him to sit next to Dazai.

You stand, bare, in front of the two of them, also bare; they’re both so beautiful in their own ways. Dazai, with his dark features, cutting cheekbones, flexing jaw, bandages outlining the contours of all his lean muscle. Sigma, all heavenly light, awkward hands, unmarked skin, thin sheen of glistening sweat.

“You don't need to worry,” you reassure him. “We just want you. Right, Osamu?”

“Mmhm,” Dazai hums again. Not a man of sentiment, but he presses a series of kisses to Sigma’s cheek before smiling devilishly. “We’ll take care of you. How about that? Teach you how to fuck.”

Sigma shudders at his words; his eyes still flit nervously, but fall at rest when you sit opposite Dazai and run your fingertips across his thigh.

“Yes,” he responds just above a whisper. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dazai echoes.

“Okay.” And you. “Can we touch you? Or d’you wanna watch us?”

Sigma contemplates. His cock jumps at the mere mental image of watching Dazai fuck you; he could get off like that and be totally content, but his mind drifts back to your hands, Dazai’s hands, and how selfishly he was campaigning for you both to touch him just minutes ago. “Touch me, please.”

Now it’s you looking across Sigma’s side profile at Dazai. He mirrors the look in your eye, and you lean over to press a kiss to the brunette's lips before you traverse the plane of Sigma’s chest. Dazai reaches for his cock.

And just like that, Sigma is in heaven. His hands fall behind him on the bed to steady himself as Dazai goes through a motion Sigma’s performed so many times on himself, but it feels so much better now—he doesn’t know if it’s Dazai’s calloused fingertips or the curling heat you both create in his pelvis by just kissing him, talking to him, loving on him—and he’s throwing his head back, embarrassed to make noise but in such ecstasy that he can’t help it, won’t help it. You giggle lightheartedly against the shell of his ear when he does, and he loves it. Loves it. Wants it to last forever. Dazai sucks on his collarbone and you tweak his nipples and he’s twitching, twitching, building up so quickly he’s afraid he’ll be spent soon.

"'M gonna... oh—gonna cum if you don't s-stop—"

But it isn't a request to, so when you and Dazai's hands both leave him, he's sent reeling just like you were during the last game. Sigma's chin meets his chest as he recovers from what feels like Dazai's revenge for the bluff that worked on him earlier, and he looks at you both, glazed over with lust.

Your eyes are so warm when they slide from Dazai back to him.

“So handsome. You’re gorgeous, Sigma.” It hardly matters who says it—the other agrees.

“Tell us what you want.”

"Well, um," he asserts, pulling his shaky legs up into himself and leading you by the arms to pull you back to the headboard. "This part seems pretty self-explanatory. Dazai, I think you should show me how to..."

You perch at the head of the bed again as he trails off, and Dazai looks like he's ready to have fun with what's coming next.

"Show you how to...?" he prompts Sigma to finish his sentence, and Sigma's nudging his way between your legs; your lips turn upward at his burst of enthusiasm, and the words get stuck a bit as he settles on his stomach in front of you.

"Touch them. I've really never done this before." He blinks up at Dazai. Weaponized incompetence has never been so sensual.

And Dazai takes the bait and crawls next to him, gripping your thigh a little too hard as he presses his shoulder to Sigma's. "Certainly. Give it your best shot, I wanna see what I'm working with here." It's so natural for Dazai to take on the mentorship position, even in this situation. You can't help the way you giggle at them; their eyes linger on each other a second too long to imply nothing before Sigma turns his attention to you.

You think he'll start with fingering you, but he dips his head down and goes right for your cunt—you're unable to suppress the oh! that leaves you as he licks a sensual and slow stripe from your hole to your clit. Knowing Sigma, you understand that his mind is probably still swimming with self-doubt as he rolls his eyes up to yours, but you can't find any of it. It's all too hot. His pretty pink lips undulate as he tastes you, delicately, and Dazai lets out a surprised noise of his own.

"Seems like you’re alright." Dazai's grinning. "But I'll help you out. Stay there."

So Sigma latches onto your clit, drawing another series of gasps out of you, and Dazai plunges his middle finger into you. You’re so slick, so ready for them that there's no resistance; Sigma's experimenting with his tongue, then his lips, then alternating, and Dazai keeps digging his fingertips into your thigh, your hip, as he works you open on his hand.

"God, with how wet you are, I think we could get you to take both of us."

Your eyes—which you hadn't realized had fallen shut as you wound each of your hands in either of their heads of soft hair—fly open at that. Sigma pulls away too. Tortorous.

"At the same time?" You're unsure if it comes out of your mouth, too, but Sigma asks it—with a sense of wonder that, had you said it, would've been overshadowed with a little apprehension. Dazai looks up to you for approval.

And while it's daunting—neither of them are small, that's for sure—you can't help the way your hips roll at the thought of being stuffed with them both. At the same time. How intimate it would inevitably be, their cocks pressed together as they fuck you. So you nod, vigorously.

"Gotta get 'em ready, though," he lectures to Sigma, snapping back to his instructorly tone as his hand falls on top of yours in his two-toned hair, pushing his face back into your cunt. "Put that mouth to work. You got it, baby."

Sigma hums against you at the nickname and the vibration sends your head lolling back again; Dazai looks wicked as he straddles your leg, still reaching down to split you open, now on three fingers instead of one or two. He kisses you hard.

The attention from both of them is unbelievable—you see now what had them both falling apart so quickly. Something about two sets of hands wandering your body sets lights off behind your eyes. Sigma’s reaching up to paw at your chest, flicking and pinching your nipples the same way you had his; before you know it you’re panting like a dog into Dazai’s mouth and soaking the bed below you.

“Fuck—you two.” You’ve got one hand still twined in Sigma’s hair. You’re almost grinding onto his nose, and he’s lapping up everything you’re giving him like a good boy. Your other arm winds around Dazai’s neck as you pull him closer and bend your knee to nudge his balls. He humps against what you give him. Lewd, wet sounds fill your ears.

“That’s the plan,” Dazai singsongs, pretty teeth visible. Amidst your frantic hips, he shuffles behind you, never breaking the heated kiss you share more than he has to. Those teeth find your lips and you gasp, you moan, you’re so impressed at how quickly Sigma is picking up on this new art, and with so little instruction, really—he watches you and Dazai make out from his place between your thighs and thrusts his hips against the bed at the sight. You notice.

“Sigma, come up here.”

His lips leave your cunt hesitantly; truth be told, your taste is more inebriating than all the alcohol he’s had. He’s rock hard, and you split your attention between him and Dazai as you lift your hips up, arch, and angle Dazai’s cock against your pussy.

His lips catch Sigma’s as he sinks into you; a whine falls from you at the stretch, and you can feel Dazai shake as he waits to move. When he parts from the kiss, he wraps his hands beneath either of your thighs, spreading you open wide.

Sigma all but gawks at the way Dazai’s dick is buried in you from below. You reach behind you, give his brown hair a tug that has Dazai thrusting up roughly, and Sigma would let your moan shatter his eardrums, his entire being, if he could. He sees the whites of your eyes, the white of Dazai’s fingertips as he grips you hard, the white of Dazai’s precum and your slick dripping down onto the sheets, and his hips lunge forward at nothing. Your cunt looks delicious. Dazai looks delicious, all furrowed brows and bitten lips and groans that bubble up from his chest. He fucks you fast.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Osamu! Unh, uh-huh—”

Dazai echoes your own name back to you. “Yeah, fuck—you feel so good.”

All the combined sounds are like a symphony to Sigma. He palms his own cock; no way he can cum just watching now, he decides. He needs to be in you. He doesn’t want to be an observer. Sigma catches Dazai’s eyes as if to say can I? But Dazai’s already smirking and breathlessly slipping out of you, holding you up and open still as you reach for Sigma with one hand and will him into you. You suck him in, god—thank god you’re already so wet and fucked open, because he’s not an inch inside of you before he loses himself and thrusts forward wildly.

“There you go,” Dazai encourages, grinning as the pale-haired man’s composure crumbles. “Isn’t that pussy heaven? Just like that, Sigma. They’re fuckin’ creamin’ all over you, look.”

Look, as if his rosé eyes could possibly leave the place where you’re swallowing him in. Sigma’s grunting—he’s never known himself to be noisy during pleasure, but this is another level, your cunt so warm and milky and squeezing him like you’ll never let him go.

The curtain of Dazai’s bangs falls across your shoulder as he kisses you there, mutters filthy musings into your ear while he watches Sigma sink into you over, over, over.

“How’d’they feel?”

Sigma’s unprepared for the way his own voice sounds, wound tight and concentrated while he tries and fails miserably not to whine. All that voice turns into babbling. “So—so, so fucking good, I’m—ah, I’m gonna fucking cum—”

"Woah, woah, alright. Not yet. Give 'em a breather. They're gonna need it, after all." Dazai's still laughing as he puts the brakes on Sigma with his feet—that's especially funny to him, but the way Sigma almost chokes at the way Dazai stops him is even better. Sigma, all sweat and arousal, sinks back onto his knees. You, too, squirm at the loss of stimulation, pushing soft lavender and silver off his forehead where it sticks; when Sigma’s hips don’t quite quit, even with nothing around his cock, Dazai chuckles out a “Looks like you need it, too.”

You trace Sigma’s tangling fingers as you catch your breath, interlocking both your hands with his. Dazai lets up on your legs—your hips will thank him later—letting the flex back into a more comfortable position. Your back rests against his chest, and he plays with your clit lazily.

“This is gonna take some patience, okay?” Dazai is addressing Sigma more than you; you’re guiding Sigma’s hands down to your cunt where he and Dazai move in a figure eight that keeps you occupied.

They're gonna need it, after all is what's registering in your mind. "Osamu—" you start, but he's shushing you.

Once again, Sigma's watching Dazai ride you up by your thighs so he can buck up into you, much more tactfully than the pale-haired man was just seconds ago. Perhaps more neglected than either of you at this point, Dazai's voice is gruff as you squelch around him.

“Oh, fuck, sweetheart. Hah." His teeth sink into your shoulder as you croon.

"Dazai—" Sigma starts this time, but the other man answers all his questions with a single look.

"You’re gonna go back to what you were doing,” Dazai breathes, his gaze trained on Sigma as you writhe.

“Please, both of you—”

“Be patient,” Dazai means to snap at you but it’s too melted, too lovey. Anyway, he’s egging you on with his next words. “C’mon, Sigma, you’re gonna give ‘em what they want, right?”

And Sigma nods like he’s in a trance—your cunt already looks full around Dazai, but he needs urgently to be in you next to him. He thinks he’ll explode in all the wrong ways if you don’t let him in. He needs it, so he lines himself up below your clit, above Dazai, looking for anywhere he can slip in; it takes some of Dazai’s fingers, some of yours, but soon enough he feels the veins of Dazai’s cock on his underside and your pulsing walls to the top of him. He’s in. He’s actually in, and his head falls onto your shoulder, and it takes everything in him not to let his full weight slump directly onto you and Dazai. You’re bleating, sobbing, laughing through the stretch, and when Sigma’s tip nestles next to Dazai’s deep inside you, you feel full. Whole.

“I’m gonna stay still.” Dazai sounds just as affected as both of you, but he keeps his facade up a few seconds longer to guide you both to the beginning of the end. “Want you to fuck them, Sigma. Hard.”

And he doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s difficult to pull back and push in at first—you’re so fucking tight and Dazai’s so fucking big, and even though you’re spread apart, Sigma feels like he can’t get close enough to you. Your cunt weeps around both of them, protesting the stretch that your brain adores, but you let up. And he fucks you, soft at first, and then hard.

All three of you are jumbled noise; skin on skin, teeth on lips, moans on shoulders, wet smacking and sliding and sobbing as you take both of them. Your gut heats up with each push, each pull, each frantic grasp, each broken sound the two men let out as they frot inside of you; Dazai’s biting your shoulder again, letting his sweet little protégé do the work. Sigma digs his nails into you wherever he can find purchase.

“Oh—fuckin’ harder, Sigma, baby, please—” you beg.

“Our pretty boy fuckin’ you good?” Dazai doesn’t wait for you to answer. “You gonna go stupid on his cock, huh?”

Sigma couldn’t answer the question even if it wasn’t rhetorical; all of his coherence is gone, and you took it. His thrusts grow erratic, remarkably unpracticed and blatantly virgin, but the repeated pounding of the head of his cock against the entrance to your cervix makes your eyes impossible to keep open, then impossible to keep closed, so you teeter between hyperalert and falling apart. Dazai rubs your clit as Sigma pushes your knees further back with sudden aggression, pins your thighs closer to your shoulders as he fucks you and creates an otherworldly friction against Dazai. He’s gone, he’s lost, and he looks so gorgeous whimpering and whining, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he screws his eyes shut and his mouth falls open over and over again. If anyone’s going stupid, it’s Sigma.

But the longer he fucks you, the more limp you fall; your head falls to rest on Dazai's shoulder as Sigma puts everything into you, and the brunette laughs like the asshole he is, even through this. He’s hardly doing better than either of you, though, and his words fly.

“My two beautiful little fuckin’ sluts, so—unh, so hot. So hot. Look at what I turned you into.”

Neither of you have any hope of answering. His voice just throttles you forward, and Sigma’s grunts ante up—he’s almost yelling, shouting as he exerts himself, as he does everything his body will let him to get himself there, and bring you with him, too.

“Ah! Angh—anh—ah, ah, ugh!”

And you reply with, “Ah! Unh—oh, oh, oh, please, please, please!”

And Dazai drinks it all up, finally letting his eyes roll back as he pulls Sigma down for one more messy kiss—one that sends Sigma headfirst into his orgasm, and he cums, rutting into you while your cunt spasms, squirts, begs for Dazai to follow. It’s like white heat rolling off of him in waves; Sigma’s brows lift as if finding a sort of clarity, and your eyes are wide as you clutch the two men, and Dazai follows shortly after—the mixture of their cum inside you sings the most disgusting and yet most satisfying sounds of the evening. Your legs snap shut around Sigma’s waist as he rides all three of you out, all sweat and tears and incredulous moans that die as he slows to a stop, still stuffed inside of you.

Three pairs of lips are dry, bitten raw—chapstick’s the first thing on Sigma’s mind as his head clears, but he feels himself and Dazai spill out of you, and you and he both reach for him, pulling him down into the pillows as whatever dream the three of you just exited settles around you like dust. He’s sticky, too, but he doesn’t hate it—how can he when you’re between them, throwing one leg over Sigma’s waist and tangling the other with Dazai’s behind you? You head falls into the crook of Sigma’s elbow, and his other arm drapes over Dazai’s, which holds you close by your waist as Dazai’s chin settles on top of your head—not unlike a three-piece puzzle, snapped together and in your right place.

“Oh, fuck.” You’re still leaking. “That was wonderful. Both of you.”

Dazai chuckles again. Unnervingly charming, even after cumming so damn hard. Sigma doesn’t want to know what he looks like himself.

“Who knew there was a whore in the casino man?”

You smack Dazai’s arm, but now you’re all laughing again, even Sigma. He feels… proud. You look so satisfied, so tired. The way your eyes slide shut after pressing such affection into his own prompts him to do the same.

Tired as he may be, though, he can’t lie and say that he’s not still incredibly turned on—you wiggle a little to get comfortable between them, and Sigma feels his cock spring back to life when you brush him, when your fingertips skate over the small of his back. He can’t reflect on what just happened—it’ll have him hard again in seconds.

“Excited again already, huh?” Dazai pokes. Sigma’s face burns.

“Ugh,” you groan out of sheer exhaustion, “if we go again, you’re both taking turns.”

Dazai looks thoughtful. “Hmm. Perhaps we could reprise rock, paper, scissors.”

And Sigma, having begun to nod, stops. “Absolutely not.”

[alessiasfreckles]

chocolate chip cookies (alessia russo x depressed!reader)

when you quit the team, feeling lost, no one knows what to do, including you. you spend days curled up in bed, alone, until you meet alessia, your replacement, who brings you out of your shell and helps you find yourself again.

warnings: depression is a big topic in this one! no mention of s/h or suicidal thoughts, just overall depression. if you're feeling depressed, don't hesitate to reach out.

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

When you tell the team that you’re quitting, the room goes silent. Then someone bursts out laughing. You’re not sure who, you’re staring at the ground, not wanting to look into the faces of your now former teammates. They think it’s a joke. It’s only when you turn around and leave without another word that they realise you’re being serious. 

And you are. You've already spoken to Jonas - he tried to convince you to stay, but you’d made up your mind. He told you that whilst he couldn’t guarantee there would always be a spot for you on the team, there’d always be a spot for you at the club. You nodded, thanking him quietly. You won’t be going back, you know that, but it seems unnecessary to make this harder for everyone else.

You don’t go back to the training ground after you tell everyone. You’ve already packed all your things in your car, wanting to make your departure quick and easy. On the drive home, your phone keeps buzzing with messages and calls from your former teammates. When you’re at a red light, you turn your phone off.

You decided to leave a while ago. You’ve lost any passion for the game, and when you realised that you were just going through the movements, you decided it would be best for the team if you left. You were dead weight, taking up a spot that could be used by someone else. Someone better. Someone who cares.

When you get home, you leave everything in the car, even your phone. You go inside and go straight to your room, getting into bed. you’re just so tired. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, feeling slightly more peaceful now that you don’t have the prospect of quitting looming ahead. 

You wake up to the sound of someone banging on your front door. Most of the day has passed, it’s getting dark outside. You lie there for a minute, waiting to see if the banging will stop, but it just gets more insistent. You sigh, dragging yourself out of bed and to the front door. When it opens, you see the faces of your teammates. Beth, Viv, Leah, Kim, Katie. The core five. They ask what’s going on, say that they’ve been trying to call you and message you all day. You walk past them to your car, get your phone out, shrug. 

“I left my phone in the car,” you say. You watch them exchange glances.

Still, you don’t want to be a bad host. Or a bad friend - if they still consider you a friend. You decide that it’s understandable if they don’t. You invite them in, and they pile onto your sofa. Leah pulls a stool in front of the sofa, telling you to sit down. You sit. Five faces stare at you, expressions ranging from confused to worried to something like anger. 

You didn’t mean to make anyone angry. 

“What’s going on?” Kim asks, her captain voice on. 

You shrug.

“Why would you quit?” Katie asks, frowning. 

I’m not good enough, I'm bringing the team down, I don’t care about playing, the team deserves better, you all deserve better, runs through your head.

You shrug.

“Y/n, is something going on?” Viv asks, her voice gentle. 

I’m tired, I don’t want to do this anymore, I just want to sleep, I wish I didn’t exist, life would be easier if I didn’t exist, I don’t understand why any of you are here, why do you care about me, I don’t care about me, I’m not worth caring about.

You shrug, then shake your head. 

“I just don’t want to play anymore,” you finally say. You’re not sure if it’s the truth or not. You loved playing, once. You loved the feeling that you got when you were on the pitch, the way it made everything else melt away. But you haven’t had that feeling in a while. When you’re on the pitch, the voice telling you you’re not good enough follows you. 

Your former teammates frown. They’re not convinced, and honestly, neither are you. You say that you’re tired, you want to sleep. They get the hint and leave, but not before each hugging you tightly, telling you to call them if you need anything. Beth and Viv promise to bring Myle around at the weekend, and Leah says she’ll come and see you tomorrow. 

They keep it up for a few weeks, but the season is starting, and you know they’re busy. You spend your days at home, curled up in bed, cocooned in a blanket. You watch tv and scroll on your phone for hours. You order the food shopping to be delivered so you don’t even have to leave the house. Someone usually visits you on their day off, and the girls message you. You go over to Beth and Viv’s place, cuddle the dogs, watch tv there instead of in bed at home. It's okay. You’re fine. You don’t feel any better, really, but it’s fine.

It starts when you’re forced to go to a movie night. Leah promises it’s just a small group of the girls, she knows you don’t want to be faced with the whole team. She tells you that there’s one new girl there, the new signing, but that she’s really nice. On the day, you think about ways to get out of it - surely Leah can’t just force you to go? 

She can and she does. She shows up at your house, tells you that she will pick you up and put you in the car if she has to. You crack a smile at the image. It’s the first time you’ve smiled in a while. Leah notices. 

The movie night is at hers. She's picked you up early, and when you get back to her place she sets you to work, chopping fruits and veggies for a snack board. The doorbell rings, the first person arriving. You expect it to be maybe Beth and Viv, who are usually pretty punctual, but it’s the new girl. Alessia. You've seen her in person a couple of times, when the team played against Manchester United last season, but you were already feeling out of it and hadn’t paid much attention to her then.

She comes in, hugs Leah and smiles at you. You smile back. She asks if there’s anything she can do to help, and Leah directs her to some meat and cheese she’s put out that needs slicing. She's been seeing charcuterie boards on instagram a lot lately and wanted to try making one.

“You mean, you wanted to get us to make one for you,” Alessia teases, and you let out a small laugh. It surprises you, and Leah, whose mouth drops open slightly. Alessia doesn’t think twice of it - why would she, she’s never really met you before. She wouldn’t know that it’s the first time anyone has made you laugh in, well, months. 

The evening goes well. It's nice to be around the girls. You don’t pay much attention to the movie, your brain feels too foggy to keep up with it. The mean voice returns, telling you that you’re just there because they feel sorry for you. You start picking at your nails. 

“I like your nail polish,” Alessia leans over and says to you quietly. She’s sat next to you on the sofa. 

“Oh, thanks,” you reply, taken aback. The nail polish is chipped and worn, remnants from Katie coming over and painting your nails a few weeks ago. 

“It's a great colour. I like having my nails done but I'm terrible at leaving them alone. I fidget too much and I'm clumsy so I usually end up breaking at least one,” she tells you, looking at her own nails. 

You nod, not saying anything. You wrack your brain, trying to think of what to say or how to act. It's been so long since you talked to anyone new that you feel like you’ve forgotten how to be normal.

“Um, you can borrow it, if you want,” you say. “The colour, I mean. I can give it to one of the girls to give to you.”

“Really? That’d be great!” she looks at you with a big smile. You feel an odd sensation in your stomach, like you’ve just had a hot drink and the warmth is trying to spread throughout your body.

You nod shyly, giving her a small smile.

After that night, she starts messaging you. The first message you write off as being about the nail polish. After all, why else would she message you? She keeps going, though. After she sends you a message thanking you for the nail polish, she mentions a book she’s reading. You’ve read it too, so you figure the polite thing to do is to ask her what she thinks of it so far. Then she asks you for recommendations. You’ve been reading a lot, lately, now that you have time. You send her a detailed list, then realise that maybe that’s too much, but you’ve sent it now. She replies with heart eyes and exclamation marks, so you think that maybe it was okay after all. 

She asks if she can come over to borrow a book you’ve told her about. After a moment of hesitation, you say yes, she can come over tomorrow afternoon, if that works. You spend the rest of the day cleaning and tidying. The next morning you find a chocolate chip cookie recipe. You used to bake a lot, but you didn’t really have time for it anymore after becoming a professional footballer, and you weren’t meant to be eating that kind of thing anyway. The thought crosses your mind as you mix the ingredients that maybe Alessia won’t want any, since most of the team eat pretty healthily. You keep mixing. It’s too late now, you might as well finish making them.

You’re nervous, waiting for her to arrive. You’re not sure why, probably just because you haven’t interacted with her alone before. You’ve put some cookies out on a plate in case she wants any, and you’ve already got the book she wants to borrow lying on the table. 

When the doorbell rings, it makes you jump. You open the door and she steps inside, immediately giving you a hug, then quickly stepping back.

“Sorry, is hugging okay? I need to get better at checking with people before I hug them,” she says apologetically.

“Hugging is okay,” you nod, and she grins and pulls you into a hug.

“Oh my god, it smells amazing in here!” she exclaims, looking around.

“I made chocolate chip cookies,” you explain, and brace yourself for rejection. “Do you want one?”

“Absolutely!” she says, and you try to hide the surprise on your face. You offer her the plate and she takes one. When she bites into it, she lets out a moan that has you blushing. “Holy shit, y/n, these are incredible! You really made these yourself?”

You feel that warmth pooling in your stomach again. You nod, smiling shyly. 

“You should be a professional baker or something, these are so so good!” she tells you, polishing off the cookie. You can’t help but smile. There are crumbs on the corners of her mouth and a smear of chocolate on her chin.

“You’ve, um, got something,” you say, pointing to your chin. “Right there. A bit of chocolate, I think.”

“Whoops,” she blushes, wiping the chocolate away with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, I have the book you wanted,” you say, figuring that she probably has things to do. 

“Trying to get rid of me so quickly?” she asks.

A pit opens up in your stomach. “No, no!” you quickly insist, but she laughs and waves you off.

“I’m just teasing,” she tells you, smiling. 

You smile back, but it’s forced. It doesn’t seem like Alessia notices, though. 

“You have a lot of books,” she says, eyeing the large bookshelf in your living room. “Have you always read a lot?”

“I used to, when I was little. I didn’t really have time to read as much when I joined the team,” you say, and wince at the mention of your leaving. She’s never brought up the fact that she essentially replaced you, and you don’t want her to.

“I’m guessing leaving the team has given you a lot more time for things like reading?” she asks, and you nod. 

“And baking,” you add, not wanting it to seem like you’ve just been sitting at home not doing anything since you left. Even if that is the truth. She doesn’t need to know that today is the first time you’ve baked in, well, years.

“True, that one is very important!” she says, taking another cookie from the plate. “Seriously, y/n, these are amazing.”

She keeps asking you things, about yourself, about books, about your life, and you don’t realise how much time has passed until you look outside to see that it’s gotten dark. She follows your gaze out of the window and jumps up.

“Shit, I didn’t realise how late it was! I really should get going,” she says apologetically.

You hold out the plate of cookies. “Want one for the road?”

The two of you message more after that. It’s weird, how easy it is to talk to her. You chalk it up to the fact that she never met you before you left. This is the only version of you she knows. She doesn’t expect anything from you.

A couple weeks later, she asks if she can borrow another book. This time she wants you to recommend something for her, and you pore over your bookshelf for hours, trying to find the perfect book for her. Once you’ve decided on one, the next task you’re faced with is what to bake this time. She didn’t mention anything about it, but after she enjoyed your cookies so much, it feels like it’d only be right to bake something again. 

This time you make pumpkin spice cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. You carefully mould little pumpkins out of marzipan to decorate the cupcakes, and you can’t help but feel a swell of pride at the look of astonishment on her face when she eats one and lets out a moan at how good it is. She keeps commenting on the little pumpkins, in awe at the fact that you made them by hand, and the warm feeling spreads throughout your body, making your fingers tingle. After she leaves, armed with a new book and two more cupcakes, you get a message from Leah, inquiring about where her cupcake is, and how come Alessia gets cupcakes but you’ve never baked anything for her, and you smile to yourself.

The days in between visits are not as good. You still spend a lot of time curled up in bed. Sometimes, you think about the future, and you usually end up falling asleep trying not to think about it, brain spiralling. 

This goes on for a few months. Every couple of weeks, Alessia visits you for a new book and some new baked goods, and every time the two of you spend a little longer talking. You both avoid the topic of you leaving the team and what you’re going to do next. You have enough money in savings that it’s not something you have to worry about, for a while at least, and thinking about it makes you want to cry, or sleep, or just not exist anymore.

One day, though, Alessia is sitting on your sofa, eating a slice of lemon cake, when she asks gently, “What are you doing, y/n?”.

The question is enough to make you burst into tears, tears that you didn’t know you’d been holding in. 

“I don’t- I don’t know,” you sob helplessly as she rushes to your side, pulling you into a hug.

“Well, what do you want to do?” she asks after you’ve calmed down a little.

The question makes you stop. You haven’t thought about that in forever. 

“All I’ve ever wanted to do is play football,” you shrug. 

“But… not anymore?” she prompts you. You can understand why she’d think that. You quit, after all.

“I don’t know. I think I do still want to play, just… not at that level. It was too much. I feel like I-” you trail off, sighing. “I feel like I lost myself. And I still don’t know where I am, or who I am. Everything just feels so hard, like it’s all so much effort, and like there’s nothing I can do to stop it all from happening, like it’s a huge wave and I’m just getting tossed around under the water, barely able to come up for air.”

She nods, not saying anything, and you feel a sudden rush of embarrassment for opening up like that.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I said all that, I-” you say, but she cuts you off.

“No, it’s okay! I asked, I want to know. And it makes sense. A friend of mine struggled with depression a lot when we were teenagers, and-”

“Wait, depression? You think I’m depressed?” you ask, confused. Alessia laughs gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, I’m 99% sure you’re depressed,” she says. 

“Wha- I’m not depressed,” you insist, shaking your head. “It’s not like I want to hurt myself or anything.”

“Okay, but do you ever feel like it would be easier if you didn’t exist?” she asks, and you frown. “Or, like, have you lost interest in things you were previously passionate about? Do you feel tired all the time?”

“Okay,” you say, slowly. “So, maybe I’m a little depressed.”

The mean voice at the back of your mind laughs. 

“What if I’m just being dramatic, though?” you ask. “Plus, I have no reason to be depressed. I have a good life, I have nothing to worry about.”

“Look, what if you go and see someone? A doctor, or a therapist?” she suggests, and your cheeks burn at the thought of burdening someone else with your problems.

“No, it’s fine, it’s not that serious,” you say, waving a hand. “There’s definitely more important stuff they have to deal with. I’m fine, seriously.”

She raises an eyebrow but drops the topic. She brings it up the next time she comes over though, and the next, and the next. You think about it a lot.You look stuff up online, look at social media accounts talking about people’s experiences, buy books dealing with the subject. 

The next time she comes over, you tell her you’ve made an appointment with a therapist, and she hugs you tightly. 

You start seeing each other weekly, after that. Sometimes she’ll go to yours, sometimes you’ll go to hers. She’s on a mission to help you figure out what you want, and nothing is going to stop her. She buys you baking books and equipment, goes to galleries and museums with you, watches documentaries on pretty much everything and anything the two of you can find. When you mention that you’ve been thinking about learning how to play the piano, she helps you find a teacher nearby. 

Things are looking up. You still don’t know what you want to do, but you’re feeling better. Your therapist is good, and you thank your lucky stars that you’re in a position to be able to pay for private therapy. 

When Alessia rings your doorbell, you don’t think anything of it. You’d planned for her to come over to watch a documentary she’d found about llamas (you weren’t sure what revelation you were going to have about your future from watching something about llamas, but who were you to deny her?). When you open the door, she’s smiling from ear to ear and holding a box.

“I have a surprise for you,” she says, closing the door behind her gently as she comes in.

She carefully sets the box down and opens it to reveal a small ginger kitten. It looks up at you with wide eyes and lets out a small meow, then puts its paws up on the edge of the box, looking out curiously.

“Alessia, what is this? Whose kitten is this?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Yours?” she asks, smiling sheepishly. 

“What do you mean, mine?” 

“I mean, she’s your kitten. If you want her? Oh god, please say you want her. It’s just, you talked about having a cat when you were younger, and how much you’d like to have one again, and I figured they’re a lot lower maintenance than dogs, and-” she’s cut off by you hugging her tightly. Tears prick the corners of your eyes and you try to blink them away fiercely, still hugging Alessia. 

A small mew alerts you to the kitten, who has jumped out of the box and is rubbing her head against your leg. 

“I have her stuff in the car,” Alessia says, nodding towards the door. “I’ll just go get it?”

You nod, unable to look at anything but the tiny kitten now trying to clamber up your leg. 

You’ve been seeing your therapist for about 6 months when Alessia asks you to be her girlfriend. It’s a couple months after she got you Dorothea - Dory for short (or Dorito, occasionally), as you’d named the ginger kitten. You’re stunned, but quickly nod yes as she starts to bite her lip, looking worried at your lack of answer. You hug her, feeling her breathe a sigh of relief against you, and when she kisses you she tastes like the chocolate chip cookies you’d made earlier that day, the same recipe as the first time she’d come over. 

Your therapist has been helping you figure out what you want, now that you’re slowly regaining some of the passion you’d lost. You decide that you do still want to do something with football, just, as you’d told Alessia, not professional football. You hadn’t realised how much you’d missed having time to yourself, having other hobbies outside of your work. 

You get in contact with Jonas, who puts you in contact with some other people, and before you know it you’re back at the club. Not on the team, you've made it pretty clear that that’s not what you want. Instead, you’re spending the day at the youth program. You already know by lunch time that this is what you want to do. 

Before you know it, you’re settled in as a coach for the Academy. Your days consist of working with kids, young people who have the whole world ahead of them. You still have bad days sometimes, where it feels like you can’t get out of bed. On days like that Dory cuddles up next to you in bed, and Alessia holds you close. She moves in after you get the job, claiming it makes sense, since you’re always either at her place or she’s at your place anyway. She insists that she’s still very much a dog person, but you catch her asleep on the sofa one evening, with Dory curled up on her lap, and you smile.

[suguwu]

minors and ageless blogs dni.

your planet was known for its sapphires.

the mines dried up a handful of years ago. the ipc scraped the deposits down to the marrow, until not even the smallest glint of crystal existed.

most of the sapphires were off-planet, now, adorning the arms of the elite throughout the cosmos, shining brilliantly even in the dimmest light. they gleamed dark blue, like where the ocean meets the sun, all shimmering waters. the fathomless depths.

aventurine wears a bracelet made of them.

technically, it's yours.

you lost it to him under the two moons of a planet you've long forgotten the name of. you only remember the blushing rose of its sky reflecting off of the bone dice.

it was a stupid thing to put up as collateral. but you were stupid, back then, high off of innumerable victories.

your hands were shaking too badly to undo the clasp; he had to do it for you. he slipped it onto his own wrist, his expression unreadable, and you wondered if the gems still carried the heat of your skin.

he showed up again six system months later, with a smug little secret tucked up in the corner of his easy grin. he'd slung the bracelet into the pot without even glancing at you.

he only looked at you after you'd won it back.

"i don't lose often," he told you. "how about a drink?"

you should have declined, but you didn't. you let him buy you one round, and then two, and by the third, you'd said some things you shouldn't have.

the ipc acquired that planet a few weeks later.

you moved.

aventurine found you again in epsilon, reigning over a poker table. you'd scowled at him when he sat down across from you; he'd just smiled.

"nothing personal," he said. "just business."

"fuck off," you said, but he hadn't.

he won easily. you pushed your chips over to him and he caught you by the wrist.

"wanna chance to win it back?" he asked.

"i don't have anything left."

he tapped a gloved fingertip over one of the sapphires.

"no," you said.

"shame," he said. "i liked that."

"then buy one."

he tilted his head. "we both know i can't."

you flinched. you couldn't help but cover the bracelet with your hand, as if doing so would make his knowledge disappear.

aventurine smiled. "alright then," he said. "next time, maybe."

"there won't be a next time."

"we'll see."

there was a next time. you don't have the money you lost to him, and he ran a thumb over the sapphires. he left the table with them glinting on his wrist, night-sky blue.

the time after that, he traced his fingers over the delicate skin of your inner wrist after clicking the clasp shut. the stones were still warm from his body heat.

you left before you did something stupid.

it went like that for a long while, the bracelet constantly changing wrists. you knew you shouldn't be betting it, but you couldn't quite help yourself.

"ambassador," aventurine said. "imagine meeting you here."

you didn't glance up from your game. "stoneheart."

"so cold," he said.

the bracelet has been yours for the last eight system months.

"you started it," you said, because he's never called you by your title.

he laughed. "i suppose i did."

at your gesture, the other players left the table. aventurine settled next to you. you dealt him in without a word.

he lost.

you eyed him over the rim of your drink. "you're off your game."

"am i?"

"seems like it."

"my apologies, then."

you watched him for a moment. his smile curled at the edges, something smug tucked up between his lips. it didn't reach his vivid eyes.

you sighed and unclasped the bracelet.

he pulled back as you reached for your wrist, his eyes sharp. "i lost, you know."

"yeah," you said. "now hold still."

he hesitated for a moment more, but then he let you put the bracelet on him. you clicked the clasp closed. he twisted his wrist, the facets of the sapphires catching the light, the ocean's reflection. your mother had carved them perfectly.

"don't lose it," you told him. "i'll win it back next time."

he studied you, his gaze slipping beneath your skin like a knife. then he smiled, carefully carefree.

"wanna bet?"

[crescencestudio]

๋࣭⭑ Devlog #41 | 5.28.24 ๋࣭⭑

It's hot girl (/gender neutral) summer season

HAPPY MAY!!

Hope you're all doing well <3 We're already getting into summer, which is a little crazy to me. The year is flying by! Before I get into what we actually did this month, it wouldn't be a May devlog without our annual Mermay celebration!

Look at those locks. His Ariel/Rapunzel era fr

Since I already had updated Mermay pieces for the Alaris LIs, I decided to do one for our beloved Van this year ^^ Hope you all like it!

For writing this month, I spent a lot of it catching up on Etza edits. Being totally transparent, I wasn't Completely Happy with their route when their draft was finished. But now that I've started the editing process with Wudgey, I'm really excited to see how their route is shaping up!!! We've been fleshing a lot of little interactions out with their route, and I can already see Etza's character really starting to shine with these edits ^^

I've also been chipping away at Kuna'a's route! While it's nowhere near finished, I'm hopeful that this upcoming month will be the month of Kuna'a now that I don't have a bunch of releases I'm trying to balance. His route is also one of the ones whose outline is more fleshed out (Druk and Etza I would say were the least fleshed out, which might be why they also took a bit longer). So I'd love to see Kuna'a's first draft complete/almost complete by the next devlog!

This month, I had to dust off my art skills tbh LMFAOIJSDF. It's been.... a WHILE since I've made CGs since I've been in the writing and coding dungeon for so long. So most of this month's art updates are me getting tilted from redrawing an ugly sketch over and over.

I DID manage to get the Van Mermay piece out. And I also was able to sketch out Kayn's Tragic End CG; that leaves only one CG that has to be sketched out! Currently, six of their CGs are finished, two need to be rendered, and one needs to be drawn still.

And since Kayn's CGs are mostly done, I've started drawing Fenir's. I was actually able to finish one because I basically Locked In when I made it, so here is a sneak peek!

Kisses his little pink nose

You might notice there's not toooo many updates on this month's devlog. The reason for that is because this month, I spent a lot of it recovering both mentally and physically. April shenanigans and those back-to-back releases took a lot out of me, and after going full speed basically since this year started, I learned I REALLY needed a break. That coupled with the concussion I got made it so that most of this month was focused on recovering and then getting back into the groove of things.

Another thing I tried to focus on this month was finding a balance in my workflow. Going into this month, I felt like I was on the verge of a mental breakdown almost every day, in large part because I have a lot of big things I'm trying to accomplish this year. Between finishing my dissertation, Alaris, and a personal big event that I have to plan, I have a lot on my plate this year, and it's made it easy to get overwhelmed as the months pass by. So I wanted to find a balance between all three that didn't make me feel like I was also falling into insanity. After talking to beloved Wudgey of @herotome fame, I've started adopting a schedule that gives me enough structure and flexibility to feel like I'm making progress without going crazy and getting lost in the sauce.

While it's still early in the process, I'm really happy with the balance I've hit, and I'm feeling much more like myself now compared to a month ago!

I caught up on quite a few things in my backlog this month, which made me happy ^^ I always like to learn from and support other devs, so finally being able to return to that helped with the recovery process <3

I don't have any actual fanart pieces, but there are a couple of games I'd like to highlight!

First of all, of course I must talk about our hot girl (/gender neutral) summer cross-promo. If you haven't checked out these games, I can't recommend them enough!!

Links to each game can be found on the Alaris Game page under the magic and mystery otome section!

Specifically, Save the Villainess, The Good People, and Thorn for the Villain are amazing games if you're into thriller/political games layered with mystery

The Silent Kingdom (which I played recently and is AMAZING) and Dual Chroma (Otojam 2023 ALLY) have added mechanics of RPG for exciting action-adventure fantasy stories

Lost in Limbo, Obscura, and Snow White Ashes are BEAUTIFUL dark fantasy games. I've played all three of these and they have some of the most beautiful writing and visuals... BIG FAN OF ALL OF THEM.

Mask Beyond Lies and Sigh of the Abyss have that epic fantasy adventure appeal to them, in a way that I think is similar to Alaris! And Pearlglow Cafe (another Otojam 2023 ALLY) is a very lighthearted and charming game for those of you who like the comfy vibe that most of my stories have!!

Some other games that I played are Favor (@favorvn) by beloved @concreteparasite which is SOOOOO stylish. If you've played Binary Star Hero by Connie, you can expect that same stylish, dark, sultry vibe from Favor. If you haven't checked out either of those games by Connie, I can't recommend them enough, especially if you like yanderes. There is so much aesthetic and atmosphere to them!

I also played Where Winter Crows Go by @prikarin who is a VERY talented developer (and one I'm sure many are familiar with). I had a lot of fun romancing Crowe and both the MC and him have such strong personalities, it was so fun seeing their dynamic!!!! The CGs were also made by anta, who is the dev behind Thorn for the Villain, and they're BEAUTIFULLLLL. Each one has so much style and rly has a professional look to them. Can't recommend enough if you haven't played already ((heads up that it is another yandere game for those who can't do yandere!))

Okay I've yapped enough. If you've made it this far, you are god's strongest soldier LFMASLDIFJ. See you all next month with hopefully some exciting progress!

[o-solemioo]

can you do a miles morales x reader with someone who has insecurities and an ed but miles comforts them?

hello anon!

of course i can! i've said it before, but i love spiderman and miles morales is one of my favourite characters, and again, i do like to write angst ;). hopefully this one will be a bit longer...

also, while i have you here, thank you for all of your requests! i am quite busy, so i hope i can continue to fill most of them. i do really appreciate it! thank you again darlings <3

remember, you're loved, ๏siris ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ

— wicked game

☾ pairing: 1610!miles morales x gn!reader ☾ summary: "gum and water isn't breakfast." or miles catches you staring in the mirror and everything changes. ☾ warnings: 2nd person (you), angst, fluff at the end, hurt/comfort, eating disorders (anorexia), detailed insecurities, self-hatred, crying, mentions of arguing/fighting, not proofread. ☾ w๏rd c๏unt: 1,124

—

It started out small.

You just needed to lose a bit of weight. You had stepped on the scale and noticed you gained ten pounds. Not a big deal, you could lose that in less than a month.

You ate a little bit less and started going to the gym a bit more, burning that fat off whenever you had the time. A month had passed. You lost the weight you had gained and felt a lot better. You had more muscle definition, your mood had improved, and you felt on top of the world. What's a little more?

So you lost a bit more. A bit more... just a bit more. A well deserved break was due. You ate what you wanted; whether it was a salad or a cheeseburger. When you stepped back on that scale again, an unfamiliar rush of panic hit you. How had you gained five pounds.

That's when the micromanaging began. Every calorie had been counted for, you hadn't missed a day at the gym, even when you began to feel sick. It was just a cold, or so you had thought. Instead of feeling better, you just felt worse and worse. You were tired, you couldn't focus, and worst of all, you were barely eating anymore. An apple here, some cucumber slices there.

You knew something was wrong when it started affecting other aspects of yourself too. You stared for hours at the person in the mirror who you didn't even recognize. Your cheeks were ever so slightly sunken in, and you noticed. You were breaking out, and you noticed. Your teeth — though you were taking good care of them —felt weaker and brittle, and you noticed. Your fingernails chipped easily, your hair was full of split ends, and you couldn't catch a break in any aspect of your life..

You didn't even stop to think how this could've possibly affected the people around you. Obviously, you didn't want anybody to know, but it was easy enough to hide from your parents and even some of your friends.

Miles, on the other hand, began to notice weeks ago. He was observant. Too observant.

And he caught you.

You were doing your weekly — at this point more like daily — check of yourself in the mirror. You pinched at the skin on your arms, your legs, your chest and stomach. You ran your hands over the dry skin over your face, and you pulled your cracking lips back to reveal your irritated gums. You grimaced, feeling tears well in your eyes. You took a deep breath and cleared your throat, doing anything to stop them from falling. You were so focused on yourself that when Miles finally spoke up, you almost jumped out of your skin.

"What are you doing?" He asked tentatively. He didn't want to hurt you anymore than you were already.

He was sincere. Which is honestly what made it so much worse. It was all it took for the dam in your eyes to break, and in your weakened state, you couldn't help but collapse. He rushed towards you, immediately holding you. You didn't want him to. You were so disgusted with yourself, he should be too.

But he wasn't. He held you as you cried, put up with your struggling against his grasp, and made sure you knew you were safe. He whispered reassuring words as you tried to calm yourself.

He was there for you. He would help you if you needed it. He understood. He knew it was hard.

While you didn't believe it at first, he meant every word he said.

For days afterwards, he made sure he was there while you ate breakfast. The taste of whatever he bought or made for you was almost gross on your underused palette, but he wouldn't leave you until you ate it. Because 'gum and water isn't breakfast'.

He hid the scale from you. This led to more than one screaming match. He wasn't helping you, he was scaring you. You needed to know, no matter how much he tried to convince you otherwise. Though, slowly, you looked forward to breakfast with him. He always surprised you with foods you used to love; yoghurt and berries, toast with peanut butter and jam, and scrambled eggs with a few strips of bacon became staples. He was happy you would eat them, even if you barely ate the rest of the day.

Though, somewhere along the way, you noticed yourself eating again, even if it was small portions.

Miles noticed too. He had never been more happy. It was all because you were happy. You felt better; school was easier again, your hair was nicer, your skin was stronger, and your eyes held your emotions again. You stopped fighting with Miles. You were more affectionate. He was honestly reeling at the change.

You looked in the mirror, and you looked like yourself.

You opened your door one morning to find Miles with flowers and a container of — what used to be — your favourite cake from a local bakery. He came in and made you sit down.

When he opened the container and grabbed the fork, the last thing you expected him to do was bring the forkful of cake to your mouth. You laughed, but took the bite anyway. It was good. It tasted good. That's what mattered, you realized.

You happily ate the cake with Miles. It was satisfying, and while your mind flickered with doubt, you kept it down easily.

Then, for lunch, Miles took you out to your favourite deli. You got the sandwich you almost always had for lunch before you decided on losing weight. You missed the flavours of your favourite condiments, the spices and toppings always made it perfect. You almost scarfed it down, and the smallest pang of embarrassment hit you when you finished your sandwich before Miles even started his second half. But Miles was a slow eater. It was okay.

Miles stayed over the whole day. As well as ordered takeout without your knowledge. The best takeout in the whole city; at least in your opinion. He knew what he was doing. You knew what he was doing. You were okay with it, it was sweet.

As you savoured the lovely taste of cheap, 'home-made everything" takeout, it hit you just how much better you felt. How secure you felt. You looked over at Miles and smiled. You put in the effort, sure, but really, it was him the pushed you to put in the effort.

You would, obviously, never be the same. But you knew that there were people who cared for you so strongly that they would drop anything to help you. Miles would, to you, always be one of those people.

And if you were happy, Miles was happy.

—

broke 1000 words on a fic for the first time in a while! i'm back in the game, baby! hope i can start writing more in my free time.

i hope this is alright, i don't have a lot of experience writing about eds.

[wizzdot]

Sunshine

Description: just an idea I had. Might make it a series. Might not. Reader’s callsign is “Ray”. TW - Reader is depressed and has been through some shit.

Not decided who I’m going to make the main love interest, if anyone at all. Hell, not even decided if it’s worth continuing. Hit me up with ideas if you like what you read…

The rain hammers against the living room window. The window of your shitty, little rented flat in a dodgy, shitty area. It was cheap though. And it was a roof -albeit a temperamental, leaky one - over your head.

It was your decision, after all. You could still be slaving away as a soldier. Giving your all, with no reward. What had you even been fighting for, anyway? Oh yeah! Arrogant men wanting to play a game of chess with your life. Nah. You’d choose your shit flat and shit job, thanks.

The bottle of cheap wine looks real nice right about now, what with the rain not letting up. But you hadn’t done a food shop for two weeks, and you’d used your last packet of instant noodles last night. Shit.

Your jacket is still damp from this morning, you notice, feeling regretful for not hanging it up over the radiator as you zip it up. It’s not as if you allow yourself the expense of using the central heating anyway. You tuck the stray bits of hair, that were poking out, underneath the hood and brace yourself.

“Once more into the void” you tut lamely to yourself, before stepping into the rain, on the hunt for dinner. ‘Goin’ fuckin’ mad, talking to myself now’ you roll your eyes at the voice in your head, sick to the back teeth of your failing life.

The familiar, chipped door of the local corner shop jingles as you enter. You stamp the wet off of your boots on the dirty mat at the door, not that it made a jot of difference to the trail of wet you left in your wake.

“Hello you!” Ravi, the (overly) cheery, elderly shopkeeper shouts. I nod, sending a tight lipped smile in response to his greeting. “This rain, eh! It’s pouring down! Madness out there!” his accented voice says chattily, as you try to disappear behind a shelving unit stacked with tinned soups.

“Yeah, mad” you grit out, monotonously.

“Chatty as always, eh?” - “yep” good god, please stop talking to me! Not in the mood..

You grab two tins of soup, and three 29p noodle packets and head back to the counter to pay. Ravi scans your selection through and looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, awaiting something else. You sigh. “The norm, Ravi, if you will” you say. “Thought you might have quit! Bad vice to have, a young thing like you..”

You choose to ignore that comment, as he slides the packet of cigarettes over the counter. “£16.49”. You pull the slightly soggy twenty from your pocket and hand it over and he quickly counts your change and you’re on your way, the ding of the shop door sounding your departure.

The rain has somehow worsened, so you decide to run the mile and a half back to your flat, pissed off that you’d had to put any effort in, whatsoever. You’ve kept your fitness levels up since your military days. You huff a laugh at your own expense. Knew the morning jogs before work were worth while.. you think to yourself.

Work. Fuck. You’d not finished until 5am this morning, hence the wet jacket. Drunkards had crawled in after winning the football match, refusing to leave until gone 3am, and leaving a shit tonne of mess behind that needed cleaned up. You got decent tips though. Tips that your landlord would snatch off of you thanks to the fact that you were a month behind on rent payments. Easy come easy go, you thought to yourself, as you jog back to the flat.

You get back in record time but halt abruptly when you reach the door. The rain has, by this point, soaked completely through your jacket, but something else has caught your attention. The door handle (which lost its spring a while ago) is slanted down. Someone has visited while you’ve been gone.

“Fuck” you whisper to yourself, before quietly shoving the pack of cigs down your bra to try and keep them dry, and gently stacking the tins and packs of noodles into your post box, for safe keeping, while you investigate..

On second thoughts..

You grab one tin, and carry it as a weapon. Just in case, right? Old habits die hard…

You step in, silently, and notice the wet footprints leading to the kitchen. They weren’t even trying to be subtle, what the actual fuck?!

Slinking towards the kitchen, acting every bit the trained operative that you once were, you round the corner, ready to beat the intruder to ever lasting shit with your soup can, when your eyes meet something - or someone, for that matter - that draws the breathe from your lungs.

“Get out” you all but growl.

The intruder huffs a confident laugh.

“You’ve not changed much, apparently.. a ‘hello’ would be polite, Ray” the figure, with their back turned, lounging on your one remaining wooden chair, that you use to hang your washing on to dry, teases.

“I don’t go by Ray anymore. Now, get out” you spit, marching back to the door to grab your remaining tin of soup and packs of noodles, no longer threatened by the unknown, but instead, utterly pissed off at the fact they’re wasting your time.. You return to the kitchen, intruder still unmoved, and slam the tins down on the counter to try and convey the fact that they weren’t welcome..

“You’ve got about 10 seconds..” you warn.

“Until…?”

“Until I call your superior..”

“He knows I’m here..”

“I’ll call his superior, then” I threaten.

“You’ll call Kate? T’was her decision to send me..”

“Look, Lieutenant. I don’t give a single, steaming shit about whatever it is that you’ve gotten yourselves caught up in, this time. And if you think I want to be involved, you’re heavily mistaken. And it’s laughable that Kate chose you to try and retrieve me.. didn’t even think to send Gaz…? The only one of you wankers that I actually, borderline, tolerated?” You laugh bitterly.

“I really mean it, Ghost. Get out.” you practically spit his callsign, wanting him to understand that you really weren’t considering his, yet unspoken, offer.

“We’d have sent Gaz…” he pauses “but he’s broken. So I’ll have to do…”

Your stomach drops at that and Ghost almost almost sees the break in your facade.

*18 months earlier*

You’d gone through your entire military career with Gaz by your side. You’d class Gim has a friend, even though you were detached and fairly closed off. He was always determined to bring down your walls.

The pair of you were eventually split up when he was headhunted for the formidable taskforce, the 141. You didn’t see him for months, maybe even over a year, until your unit, which you labelled as ‘the Donkeys’, because they were all so shit, crossed paths with the 141 in Russia.

You, and Shepherd, you came to find out, who had been acting as the temporary commanding officer, visiting from America on a joint op, were the only survivors, not that Gaz knew.

The 141 didn’t stick around to check how us Donkeys got on. Just left us behind to do the grunt work, while they, along with Shepherd, moved on. Yeah. Still a bit bitter about that…

Mission accomplished, in their eyes. Necessary losses and all that.. the Donkeys were just collateral for them.. you included.

You returned to base, under your own steam, injured and forced to practically hitchhike back from Russia. When you limped back through the base security, flashing the dented dog tags, confirming that you were, in fact one of them, you were hailed a miracle.

Laswell called within the hour of your miraculous return and wanted to promote you to Lieutenant of your new unit, of strangers, that you’d yet to even meet. Hell, you were even ready for active duty, with your injuries. You decided that it was all for show. Or out of pity… you guessed that, seeing as the rest of the donkeys, and the existing Lieutenant, had been killed, they needed a replacement.

The day of the ceremony rolled around a couple of weeks after, the big names in the SAS, in their fancy suits covered in silverware and ribbons, turned up, to ramble on about what important work you’d all been doing and rewarding medals to hundreds of other soldiers. It was all bullshit.

When it was your turn to receive your medal of distinguished bravery, and to solidify your promotion to the rank of Lieutenant, you stepped up to the stage slowly, and glanced around at the huge crowd, dressed in their formal uniforms, and caught eyes with them. The 141. Gaz was smiling at you, sending a thumbs up your way, mouthing ‘proud of you!’ toward the stage.

You furrowed your brow, thoughts running rampant in your head. Proud of what, exactly? Proud that my entire unit were wiped from existence? Proud that, for some reason, I came back to base?

You froze on the stage. You don’t know for how long. You just remember gulping, trying to make your inner voice shut the fuck up.

Autopilot took over for a few seconds, and you step forward again, towards the important guy, holding the medals and sashes. “Y/n y/l/n. I present to you…” all you hear is your name, and then his muffled voice.

You take one final glance around the ceremony, and take the Lieutenant badge from the silver tray, earning a few gasps from shocked spectators.

“Fuck your promotion. I quit”

And you left the stage, head held high, and walk away. Away from the SAS. Away from the chess game of life. Away from the danger and greed of those in charge. You were done. Even the donkeys didn’t deserve their fate. They were someone’s child. Someone’s parent. Someone’s brother. And they were gone. Without a second glance. But they were oh so thankful for their service, right?

Bullshit.

Canon fodder. That’s all you were sent in for that day.

Pawns to be banished from the board for the next step of the game. Bigger picture. Greater good. All that grandiose bullshit.

You remembered rushing to your old room at the barracks and hastily packing whatever you had left. Hoping you’d be gone before someone detained you. Surely what you’d done was some sort of illegal, right?

What you didn’t expect was for Gaz and his Captain to come knocking on your door.

“Y/n? You in there..?”

“Piss off, Garrick” you snapped in reply.

“Soldier, open the door” the Captain’s, you’d assumed, rough voice commanded.

“Sorry Cap” you popped the P, immaturely, “no can do, don’t take orders anymore, remember? I quit..”

There was one heavy crash at the door, followed by some splintering sounds of wood, and then the Captain, followed by a sheepish looking Gaz, invited themselves into your room.

“Ray, is it? You don’t need to do this... You’re a valuable asset. You have so much to offer. I’ve read your file. You show a lot of promise. Garrick, here, backs that up. Says you and he came through the ranks together, said that you were the only one who could beat him in your year. Is that true?”

You kept your back to the men, continuing to blatantly ignore them and stuff your belongings into bags.

“You don’t have to rush, Ray. I have my other two men blocking the hallway”.

You remember furrowing your brow at that, not that he could see. Why was he protecting you? Why was he being… nice… about it?

“All due respect, Captain, but I’m out. Done. Finished. Yeah? Understood? I’d love to think up some more words to try and get through to you, but I need to get off base asap, before I’m detained. Hell, they’ll probably decide that what I just did is some sort of war crime. Now.. if you’ll excuse me..” you said, pushing past the men and out of the door.

“Ray!” Gaz shouted.

“Here, at least take this..” he presented his wallet.

“Help you find somewhere, yeah?”

You recall being caught off guard at his offer before nodding, sending a tight lipped smile his way.

“Thank you”

*now*

That was the last interaction you’d had with Kyle Garrick. Probably the last act of kindness thrust upon you since, hell, since you can remember...

And now his Lieutenant is in your shitty little flat, that Gaz’s money helped pay the deposit for, telling you that he is hurt.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the scraping of the chair against the wooden floor, and the massive Lieutenant, skull covered face and all, standing from said chair, his head practically touching the ceiling light.

“I’ll pass on your regards to Gaz” he grumbles, heading to the door. “Enjoy your soup, Ray.”

You wait until his back is turned and he is out of earshot, before gulping and scratching your damp hair. I hope Gaz is ok.. I - I wonder why they’ve came to me..? What the hell has happened..

More thoughts run through your head, and the squeak of the springless door handle jolts you again. Christ, hasn’t he gone yet..? He’s taking his time..

“Good bye, Ray. Trackers in the wallet. If you want to disappear again” Ghost speaks quietly, as if to himself, before stepping out into the curtain of rain.

Your eyes flash back and forth, furrowed brow. That slimy little prick, they’ve known where I was this entire time.. probably kept an eye on me.. what the actual fuck..

You rush to the door, opening it and seeing the Lieutenants broad figure stalking away into the darkness, the splashing of his steps the only thing you can hear over the pounding rain hitting the street.

“How hurt is he...” I shout into the darkness.

You don’t see, but Ghost smirks under his balaclava, before turning to face you.

“He’s not taking visitors, Ray. Let’s leave it at that..”

Cunt. Fucking bastard. He knows what he’s doing. Dangling a piece of string in front of a cat..

You growl.

“Arghh! FINE. Fuckin’. Fuckin’ FINE. You win. You happy? You fucking win, Lieutenant. Give me 5 minutes..”

He smirks again, and this time you swear you can see the smugness shine through his eyes. It won’t take you long to pack anyway. Not like you’ve unpacked in the 18 months you’ve been here.

You rush back into the flat and grab the two loaded rucksacks, untouched since you left base for the, what you thought would be, final time. You grab the door handle, and rush back to grab your tins of soup and noodles. Oh - and the wine!

What? It’s a waste not to use them..

You join Ghost back on the street.

“Welcome back, Ray..” the Lieutenant says in a cocky voice.

“Don’t call me that” you snap, bitterly.

“Need to have a name, woman. You’re the newest member of taskforce 141…”

“Piss off…” is all you can muster for the time being.

You wrap your soaked jacket, tighter around your body, and pray that the cigarettes in your bra are still dry.

You’re gonna need them…

[kayesfanfics]

Before He Cheats (Striker x Fem! Reader)

Summary: You’re a farmhand on Rough n’ Tumbleweed Ranch. When your boyfriend cheats on you, Striker is there to pick you back up.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, cursing, sexual content

A/N: This is inspired both by Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood, and cowboy Pedro Pascal but with Striker, my fav cowboy. Also I’m like super proud of this ngl. Enjoy~

“That’s it, Sallie May! I’m burning down his house! His car! That fucker thinks he can sleep with some bitch and come crawlin’ back ta me?! Imma kill him! I will!” You ranted to your best friend, pacing back and forth in the family houses kitchen.

“I told ya that guy was no good, Y/N.” Sallie May shrugged from her spot sitting on the counter, watching you kick around the legs of a chair you had smashed to bits when you had gotten the text. Your boyfriend had cheated, and he only just now got around to telling you…THREE WEEKS LATER. He didn’t even have the balls to tell you in person, he had to do it over text so he didn’t face your wrath head on…but to be honest, that was a smart move. If he were here, you probably would’ve actually killed him.

“He told me I was different! He said he loved me!” You shouted, enraged and heartbroken.

“They always say that, darlin’.” A voice from somewhere behind you purred. You turned around, seeing the other farmhand of Rough n’ Tumbleweed Ranch.

“Hello, Striker.” You muttered, before finally bending down to pick up the ruined chair you had broken and had been tossing around the room, setting the pieces on the table.

“What’s with the chair?” Striker asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Y/N lost her shit.” Sallie May grinned as she hopped off the counter to grab a broom and sweep up the splinters of wood littering the floor.

“Aw, now why’s that, doll?” Striker asked, chewing on a piece of wheat.

“My goddamn boy-EX boyfriend, cheated on me weeks ago, and just now told me over TEXT! Can you believe that?! What kinda coward-“

“Oh, I can believe it. The men ‘round these parts are…sleazy.” He said, tossing the wheat piece in the pile of wood chips.

“Oh, excluding you, I presume?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well now, I ain’t no saint, but I’m no cheater. No honor in that.” He grinned as he approached you. “How abouts we head down to the bar, huh? Get some drinks, forget about that loser?”

“That…could be nice.” You admitted, blushing a little at how close Striker had gotten to you.

“What, I don’ get no invitation?” Sallie May piped up, grinning at you.

“Tell your mama I’m real sorry about the chair and I’ll fix it later. Please, Sallie May?” You whispered the last part to her. Everyone who had eyes had the hots for Striker, and she knew this could be a good lay to get your mind off your ex and move on quicker. So she finally nodded, and you winked at her before telling Striker you were gonna quickly change out of your dirty work gear.

You put something a little more bar-friendly on, making sure to choose a shirt that showed some extra cleavage, and a pair of jeans that made your ass look even better. Striker smirked and held an arm out for you to hold as he walked you out to his horse, Sallie May waving to you with a teasing grin on her face. You smiled when you reached Bombproof, petting the hell beast while Striker got the saddle ready, before helping you up and getting on himself. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he rode into town, heading to one of the nicer saloons in the area. Since you were deep in the country of Wrath, there was a place to tie your horse where they had a trough of water for them, and Striker held out his hand to help you off and walk you into the bar. The place was rather lively with twangy country music playing, some people watching some sports game on the tv, and others at tables eating or playing pool. You went up to the bar with Striker, ordering your first round and chatting with him.

“So, what was so great bout that little boyfriend of yours anyways? From what I heard from Sallie May, he was a real piece of shit.” Striker asked you as you took a swig of your drink.

“She got to you while I was upstairs, huh?” You chuckled, setting your drink down and rolling your eyes at your best friend.

“Oh yeah. Talked my ears off about how he “kinda-sorta” cheated before, he yelled at you a lot, you’re too forgivin’ of him, loved his car more than he loved you, yadda yadda.”

“That loud mouth.” You muttered under your breath before turning back to him. “Yeah, well, I learned my lesson. He was my first long term boyfriend, of course I let too much shit slide. But I won’ make that mistake twice.”

“Really? First boyfriend, huh?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Yer too pretty to just now have yer first boyfriend, sweet thing.” He winked at you before taking a sip of his drink, leaving you blushing up at him like some flustered schoolgirl.

“Quit that!” You smacked his arm playfully, knowing full well your face was red as a tomato. “I can’t imagine YOU’VE had many girlfriends yourself, tough guy.”

“And why’s that?”

“I don’ know, you don’ seem the type to like bein’ tied down is all.” You shrugged, tapping your nail on your glass.

“Yer right about that, I guess.” He sighed. “You got me, doll, I ain’t got much datin’ experience neither.”

“Oh? What about…experience with other relations?” You asked, a little more bold with some alcohol in your system.

“Whatcha mean by that, doll face?” Striker smiled back at you, both of you subconsciously leaning towards the other as you flirted.

You were about to answer, but man walked up to the both of you, knocking your drinks aside and the sticky liquid splashing all over you.

“Hey, watch it you-“ You were about to scold the person until you saw who it was. “You.”

“Yer gonna bitch at me bout cheatin while yer hangin off the arm of some random dick head?!” Your ex boyfriend yelled in your face drunkenly.

“Hey, back off her, dick head!” Striker shoved him off of you.

“Who the fuck are you anyways?” Your ex asked him, trying to puff out his chest and stand taller.

“Don’ matter, that ain’t how ya talk to her, sleaze bag.” Striker growled down at the man.

“Oh, so yer gonna hide behind this asshole, huh Y/N? I thought you were ‘sposed at be tough! You just gonna bend over fer him too?”

Your anger finally boiled over, and you pushed Striker aside to face your ex yourself. You decked him in the face so hard he fell backwards onto his ass, knocking over some other peoples table and getting food and drinks spilled all over himself. You glowered down at him, wanting to beat the shit out of him, but Striker snatched you up and dragged you out of the bar before you got into too much trouble. You yelled at Striker to let you go, squirming against his hold on you.

“Calm down, missy, before ya hurt yourself.” Striker said, only setting you down and letting go when you calmed down. You tried to rush past him back into the bar, but he was prepared and stopped you again.

“Let me kill him! Just a little!” You huffed as he drug you further away from the bar entrance.

“Not tonight, darlin’. Maybe another day, huh?” He suggested, letting you go again once you were drug out to the parking lot. You crossed your arms and pouted, needing to let your rage out somehow. Suddenly in your chaotic mind, a single thought stood out to you.

“His car.” You mumbled, looking around the parking lot.

“What’s goin on in that pretty lil head of yers?” Striker asked as he followed you, your eyes scanning the cars.

“His stupid fuckin’ car. He always loved that thing more than me.” You explained, smiling devilishly when you finally saw it. You went up to the souped-up sports car. “He spent more money on it than anything, its customized with some expensive ass shit.”

Striker grinned when he realized what you wanted to do. He even pulled a knife out of his belt and handed it to you, looking around for something else to use on the car. In a trash bin he saw a metal rod sticking put of it, so he grabbed it and watched you circle the nice car like a shark with its prey. The screech of metal on metal signaled you were digging the knife into he custom paint job, carving your name into it proudly. You got down and slashed his tires, stabbing them and watching them deflate before going to the other side of the car to give it the same treatment. Striker watched proudly as you destroyed this mans car, smirking and joining you not long after by smashing the windows in with the metal rod. You laughed when he joined in, stabbing the side of the car more and prying it open to give you access to the inside. You slashed his nice leather seats, tearing them to shreds and till the stuffing was falling out and flying in the air. You got out of the car and grabbed the metal rod from Striker, beginning to beat the shit out of this car, pretending it was your ex himself.

“Alright, alright, we gotta get outta here!” Striker said after letting you have your fun for awhile, but when some customers began to leave the bar, he knew it was time to go. You dropped the rod and took his hand, running off to the horses and getting on Bombproof while Striker untied him from the fence. You heard screaming in the distance, cackling when you realized it was your exes high pitched shrieks as he saw what had happened to his car.

“Come on, come on!” You laughed as Striker got on his horse, galloping away into the night. You listened to the screeches and screams of your ex with a smile on your face, reveling in the moment.

“He’s gon be so pissed when he sees your name on that thing!” Striker laughed loudly.

“So worth it!” You shouted back. “Thank you, Striker!”

“Not a problem, darlin’! You ready ta go home?” He asked as he slowed Bombproof down, far enough away from the bar you didn’t need to worry anymore.

“How abut we…” You smiled as your hands around his waist traveled further down his body. You felt hot and bothered after that adrenaline rush, and if you were being honest with yourself, you’ve been wanting to fuck this handsome cowboy for much longer than just tonight.

“One hotel room, comin’ up.” Striker smirked, before smacking his tail on Bombproof to make him run off. You held onto him as he raced the two of you to the nearest motel, tying Bombproof up at another fence before taking your hand and leading you to the front desk. Once the clerk handed him the room key, the two of you rushed up to the room together.

As soon as the door was opened, you turned Striker around to finally kiss him. He tasted of his drink and cigarettes, his lips rough but skilled as he kissed you back. He tapped on your thigh and you jumped up, wrapping your legs around him as he held you up, squeezing your ass through your jeans as he kicked the door shut behind him. He walked up to the bed, bending over to set you down as his lips never once left yours. You felt his bulge through his own jeans, his hips humping into your own, causing you to moan. He took the opportunity to stick his snake like tongue into your mouth, clawing at you as you pushed his jacket off his shoulders. He stood up to begin stripping, smiling as you watched himself shed his clothes intently.

“Been wantin’ to do this fer a long time, pretty girl.” He purred, now completely shirtless and his hat tossed across the room onto a lamp. He bent over you again, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You lifted your arms for him to take your shirt off and toss it over his shoulder, before his hands went under you to unclasp your bra. He lowly whistled when he saw your bare breasts, a hand squeezing one and playing with it while his mouth made its way to your neck, attaching to it with his teeth, leaving a bite mark before sucking a hickey into it. You moaned and arched your back, your chest pressing further into his hands as they both now groped your soft breasts, his breath heavy as he felt your body and marked you up with his mouth.

“Striker…” You moaned quietly, your own hands clawing at his back, leaving your own marks as well.

“We’re not at the farm, darlin’. We ain’t never gon see any of these people here, so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar~” He groaned as your hips started to grind into his.

“Then hurry up and make me scream~” You moaned, biting your lip as he stood back up, kicking his boots off before taking yours off, tossing them near the door.

He pulled at your jeans, and you lifted your hips off the bed so he could take them off of you. He then took his own jeans off, his bulge much more prominent now through the thin fabric of his boxers. You sat up on the bed and nearly drooled as you stared at his crotch, imagining what he looked like underneath those boxers. You looked up at him with doe eyes as you slid off the bed onto your knees, two fingers hooking under the waistband, looking up for a nod of approval before you slipped his boxers off of him, his hard-on slapping against his abdomen once set free.

“Fuck, Striker…” You drooled over him, licking your lips before kissing the tip of his cock. He groaned at your action, a hand instinctively tangling into your hair, pushing you closer to him. You obediently opened your mouth, letting him shove his cock into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged a bit at the contact, but slowly got used to it as your throat began to relax.

“Good girl…” Striker panted, his nails scraping your scalp, making you moan around his length. You slowly started to bob your head up and down his shaft, your tongue licking up and down the underside of his cock. Striker hissed as you sucked him off so good, hips bucking into your face as his grip on your hair tightened. “Fuck, Y/N! You must’ve never given that dipshit head, he never woulda cheated if you did!”

The reminder of your ex only made you more determined to make Striker cum down your throat. You wanted every thought of that loser to be replaced with Striker, every memory of sex to be with Striker instead of him. You began to bob your head faster and suck harder, Striker nearly stumbling over when you did that, holding onto the bed behind you for support as his eyes squeezed shut at your actions. He soon came down your throat, his hand holding you in place so that your nose was pressed up against his abs so not a drop spilled from your mouth. Once he came down from his high he let you go and backed up to give you room to stand, catching his breath as you sat back up on the bed in front of him.

“Shit, baby.” Was all he could say as he panted, more turned on now than ever as you batted your pretty eyes up at him. “Lay on back now, it’s time I returned the favor~”

You smiled sheepishly before lying back on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched Striker kneel down in front of you, his own fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties. You lifted your hips for him once again to allow him to slip them off, a sexy grin adorning his face as he grabbed your thighs and propped them on either of his shoulders.

“Fuck me…” He muttered, kissing up your thighs and his eyes never leaving your glistening pussy. “Baby doll, you really are Satan’s favorite, huh?”

You didn’t have the chance to answer him, his tongue flicking over your clit stopping you. You whimpered at the feeling, it had been so long since you had received head from someone, and you knew his long tongue would hit the right spots. You moaned as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking softly but enough to have your head tossing back and our back arching off the bed. You whined out his name as you gripped at the sheets below you, his tongue flicking across your folds before delving into your hole. One of his hands let go of your thigh so his fingers could rub your clit in slow but firm circles, his tongue working inside of you. You squirmed on the bed but his other hand held you firmly, one of your own hands flying to grab one of his horns, pushing him further into your cunt. He let out a muffled moan of surprise, but didn’t argue as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, the hand on your thigh digging its claws into your soft flesh. You ground your hips into Strikers face, feeling yourself reaching the edge. You moaned out a warning to him, and he moaned into your cunt as his fingers rubbed your clit faster and his tongue went impossibly deeper inside of you. You let out a high pitched squeak at the feeling, loudly moaning out Strikers name as you quickly toppled over the edge, your hips and legs shaking and spasming from how intense your orgasm was. Once you settled down and Striker licked you clean, he finally stood back up and caged you between his arms, grinning down at you as you caught your breath.

“Fuck, cowboy…” You breathed out before leaning up to kiss him, moaning at the taste of yourself on his mouth.

“I got some more surprises fer ya, darlin’. You wanna do this ass up or not?” He asked. You answered him by crawling up further onto the bed, bending over for him. He grinned as he pumped his cock, crawling up to you and pressing his chest to your back, kissing the base of your neck to make you shiver as you hugged a pillow, preparing yourself for that addicting stretch you hadn’t felt in so long. “Ready?”

You nodded desperately, Strikers body pressing against yours left your skin burning for more of him. You moved a hand to reach for his, and he chuckled but intertwined his fingers with yours, before aligning himself and beginning to push into you. You squeezed his hand and moaned as his cock began to stretch you open, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut as you buried your face into the pillow below you. Striker kissed you on your bare shoulder as his thumb rubbed the back of your hand comfortingly, he own eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of your pussy fluttering around his cock. Once he was bottomed out, he awaited for you to tell him he could start moving. Your hips started to move against his, and he took it as a sign to keep going. He slowly pulled out halfway before snapping his hips back into you, smiling at the little squeak you let out at the action. He started moving his hips faster and faster, the hand holding yours being nearly crushed as you held onto it. You moaned lewdly as his cock hit that perfect spot inside of you, whining and beginning to shake as you felt yourself approaching an orgasm again already. Striker chuckled as he felt your cunt squeeze him and your breathing becoming erratic as you neared your high.

“Don’ be embarrassed, sweet thing, cum for me~” He whispered into your ear encouragingly, freeing his hand from your grip to pinch and rub at your clit, a choked moan escaping your lips as you immediately came around his cock, Striker groaning at how you squeezed around him so tightly.

“S-Striker!” You nearly screamed as your body shook violently beneath him.

“That’s right, Y/N, scream my name~” He panted as he felt himself nearing his second orgasm of the night. He continued to pound into you, screams escaping you as your sensitive pussy was being overstimulated. He pulled out briefly to flip you over onto your back, desperate to see your face. He shoved his cock back into you, your breasts bouncing at the force he used to fuck you into the mattress. You began to babble incoherently as your eyes crossed and rolled back, Striker smiling smugly at how you unraveled around him.

“I-I’m almost there, Y/N.” He warned you, your legs clamping around him now allowing him to pull out.

“C-Cum in me!” You whimpered, feeling yet another orgasm coming on.

“You sure?”

“Just do it!” You screamed, your claws digging into his back to keep him in place.

His hips shot into yours as he came, groaning and panting as you also came with him, your juices squirting all over his dick as you both clutched onto the other desperately. Once you both came down from your highs, Striker collapsed on top of you, both of you trying to catch your breaths as your grips loosened on the other. After a few minutes, Striker stumbled out of bed and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wiping both of you down and tossing it onto the floor before getting back into the bed with you. He pulled you close, noticing your thighs still twitching from the intense squirting orgasm you had.

“Nobody’s…ever made me…d-do that…” You panted, tilting your head to face him, but not having the strength to move your body yet.

“Well…glad to be a stand out.” He chuckled as he looked at you with half lidded eyes.

“Striker…” You swallowed harshly. “I…”

“Save it for the mornin, doll.” He interrupted you, pulling you close to him and shutting his eyes. You nodded dumbly, not having the thoughts or energy to argue with him. Plus, this was nice, just being held by him so intimately, singing and letting morning you figure out your relationship with the man. For now, you just curled into his touch and buried your face into his chest.

[thehopelessromanticclub]

THE KISS CAM

Pairing : Jeon Jeongguk x Y/N

Genre : Fluff, dating au

Word count : 1k

Summary : you appear on the KISS CAM but with the wrong person…

Weekends…

There was nothing special about weekends. For you weekends were boring. It consisted of you munching some potato chips, binge watching Kdramas, living up to your name of night owl. That was it. That was the end of it.

But that was until Jungkook came along, your boyfriend of 6 months. Weekends never felt so amazing…

Loving him was so easy…

It felt so natural…

He was shy. He was tired and messy hairs. He was oversized clothes and ripped jeans. He was whispers at 4 am. He was the smell before it rains. He was the love of her life. A love she never expected would be hers. A love so pure, that it feels to good to be true.

Author’s POV

Ding Dong

“Coming…” you yell loud enough for the entire neighbour hood to hear you before making your way to the door to open it.

There he was standing looking handsome, dashing, cool, amazing as ever… Words were never enough to describe him.

“Ready to go?” He enquired before complimenting how beautiful you looked. He always does that. He’ll call you beautiful even if you were ugly-crying some moments ago. He’ll call you beautiful even if you just woke up and ur face is all swollen up. You were always beautiful in his eyes.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You chimed in making sure to lock the door before you left.

Jungkook had been so into baseball recently, that he convinced you into going to one of the matches that was being held today.

Time skip

“There, that’s our seat.” He said pointing in the direction of two empty seats, both of you making your way into the direction.

The whole stadium was packed with tons of people. More than half of the population wearing their representative team’s uniform. It was spectacular.

“Y/N, is that you?” You heard a familiar voice beside you, hitting your eardrums, which made you turn your head in the direction.

“Yijoon?”

Hwang Yijoon, or more like your crush during high school. Although you did have feelings for him, but that was a thing in the past. As they always say, first love is never successful.

You grew up, your feeling changed. Both of you lost contact owing to the new chapter of adulting in your respective lives. You both got busy in the marathon of growing up.

You’ve told Jungkook about Yijoon once when he inquired who was the guy in your graduation photo, with hearts drawn all over him. Yes, it was you who drew the hearts, your only means of expressing your love for him.

“Omg, Yijoon-ah, how long has it been?” You were beyond ecstatic to meet him.

“I almost forgot about your existence.”

“Well, that was harsh.” He said placing his hand on his heart.

“You grew up so much Y/N, I almost couldn’t recognise you without your braces and bangs.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You laughed swaying your hair.

Both of you got so busy in catching up that you never realised the game had started and that you had a human being accompany you today.

Jungkook’s POV

“Sigh…” this is the umpteenth time I have been sighing.

I’ve been trying so hard to concentrate on the game but all I can concentrate is on them. I know I shouldn’t be jealous, but it is her CRUSH being referred here. HER F**KING CRUSH.

I so badly want to go and sit between them and tell that guy, “hey dude, we are on a date, and if you don’t mind I’ll have my girlfriend to myself.”

Author’ POV

“Umm…Y/N? Who’s that guy? He has been eyeing us for a while now.” Yijoon inquired.

It was at this moment, she knew she f**ked up.

You quickly turned your attention towards Jungkook giving him an apologetic look.

“Yijoon, meet Jungkook, Jungkook, meet Yijoon.” You quickly introduced both of them.

“Hi, I am Jungkook, Y/N’s boyfriend. I’ve heard a lot about you from Y/N.” Jungkook gave a strong handshake to Yijoon, asserting himself, jealousy clearly visible on his face.

“Hopefully good things.” Yijoon replied.

Before you knew it, it was break time, or should I say KISS CAM TIME.

Numerous couples appeared on the screen, many of them eventually giving in and kissing, all the while, kiss me more by Doja cat played in the background.

“Aww, they are soo adorable.” You squealed clapping your hands, looking at couples on the screen have the time of their lives.

But that was until you appeared on the screen…

With Yijoon…

Oh shit…

You crossed your hands indicating you and Yijoon are not together. Yijoon even tried pointing at Jungkook. But no matter what, the camera wouldn’t budge.

Now even the crowd started chanting, “ kiss kiss kiss….”

That was the end of it. That was the final straw for Jungkook. He pulled you in for a kiss. It was sweet and soft. Our lips were madly in love and married. It didn’t involve tongue. All that was involved was love and longing. Longing for each other.

You could hear the crowd cheering and clapping in the background. But that was all white noise. All that mattered in this moment was you and him. It was your moment.

You pulled away after some time, running short of breath. Your eyes met his.

“Your face is soo…..red. Are you fine?” Jungkook quickly made sure to check your temperature by placing his hand on your forehead.

“I’m fine.” To which he nodded. You could feel your face pulsating, adrenaline still in your veins making a run for it. Conclusion- you were blushing.

“Y/N, you should know you have good taste in men.” Yijoon whispered beside you.

[ode2cheol]

RUSSIAN ROULETTE — 러시안 룰렛

0.7k, mingyu x gn!dealer!reader, fluff, takes place in casino, shits on gamblers a little 😭 (i don’t have any thoughts on gamblers i just needed it for the plot)

“if i win this one you’ll go on a date with me right?” the handsome annoying man sitting across the poker table asked grinning while playing with a chip between his fingers.

you rolled your eyes, “for the hundredth time this week, mr kim, no” you told him plainly, focusing on the task at hand and continuing to shuffle the cards.

truth be told- you wanted to say yes. so badly. kim mingyu was handsome and naturally charismatic so you couldn’t really blame yourself for falling for him just a tiny bit.

but regardless of how handsome and charming he was, above all he was a gambler and you didn’t really trust them. considering your job you met them pretty often, and the types of people you’d met in here were some of the worst.

some had families and would throw away their income surrounded by women when they should’ve been home with their wives, should’ve even been taking her out on a date and many have told this to you when they downed their twelfth shot of the night.

that isn’t to say all gamblers are bad, you’ve met some really nice people here but unfortunately you haven’t had a good experience with the gamblers that come here daily for hours with no end.

mingyu could very well just be here for a good time, but that doesn’t necessarily guarantee he isn’t the same as the men you’ve grown to hate over the years working here.

“oh come on ynnn” he whined a little unfitting considering the company at the table, huge men with a permanent scowl set between their brows. “just say yes once and you won’t regret it i promise” he looked at you, eyes sparkling and puppy like.

you sighed deciding to ignore him and start the game instead, “please place your bets” you plastered a smile while addressing everyone playing at the table.

to no surprise, mingyu won. regardless of whether he was a genius or just stupidly lucky- he always won.

the rest of the men left their table, a few muttering ‘stupid kid’ angrily under their breath but mingyu paid them no mind, turning to you once again.

“ynnn” he said sing-songily. “what do you sayyy?”

“congratulations mr kim?” you stared at him blankly, internally cooing when his shoulders deflated a little.

mingyu groaned, face in his hands before perking up and looking at you with a newfound determination in his eyes. “let’s start the next one”

it took you a little off guard but you listened regardless, starting the game by asking everyone to place their bets again.

oddly enough, mingyu was losing. he was making ametuer moves and it was only leaving you confused. because of this, mingyu ended up losing the game- luckily he didn’t lose much money as he would make but it was still a loss.

“do you wanna go out with me?” he asked, catching you off guard.

“huh?”

“go out with me?”

you scoffed, “didn’t you ask me this like an hour ago?”

mingyu continued to keep his gaze on you, admiring your focus on your work and how fast your fingers worked to get everything set for the next game.

“yeah but.. i thought you’d agree if i asked you after i lost” he told you matter of factly as if it was the most obvious thing ever and was a normal conclusion to draw.

you stared at him confused before laughing out of pure disbelief. “you mean to tell me, that you just blew that much money- just because you thought it’d make me say yeah to going out with you”

if it was any other person they probably would’ve started looking a little sheepish, but mingyu stood his ground even deciding to look proud at his ‘amazing’ plan.

you bit your upper lip, making mingyu a little anxious awaiting your answer. “keep this for me” you winked before heading to deal at another table.

mingyu didn’t let his mood get too sour before he opened the folded note you gave him, your number on it and a ‘i finish at 11’ accompanying it. when he spotted you and caught your gaze, your heart gushed at the boyish grin set on his excited face.

[husbandomail-archive]

hello I have returned! thank you everybody for your patience while my family moved; we’re still not entirely settled in, but I’m slowly reaching the point where I can resume writing. so here’s what I’ve been working on!

Idia/reader

in which he can’t see the screen.

“—damn! Again?! Isn’t that the same place as last time, too?” You sighed from your position on Ignihyde’s floor, shoving your hand into a bag of chips as you glanced back over your shoulder at your gaming partner. “You okay back there, Idia? Do we need to stop and level grind?”

As he made eye contact with you, Idia’s face and the tips of his hair turned pink. He shifted on the couch, crossing his legs and lifting his computer into his lap. “There’s no time for that,” he mumbled, chewing on his bottom lip, “The event ends soon, and we still don’t have enough materials to craft another set of that armor—” His voice slowly trailed off as he busied himself with the on-screen menus.

You stretched a bit, twisting your body until it was easier to stare up at him from your little next of pillows on the floor. The two of you had been trying this raid even for hours with no luck. Now, if you had been playing this game by yourself, or even if you’d used the lobby to team up with randos, your lack of success would make perfect sense— but no, you were playing with Idia. That’s what made this string of failures so suspicious.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Idia?”

He huffed, and a strand of hair went flying away from his face. “I’m fine,” he said, although it didn’t sound very convincing. One of his hands came up to comb his flickering bangs from his eyes, but the blue embers were insistent on hanging directly in his line of sight.

No wonder you guys kept losing— he couldn’t see the screen.

Laying there propped up on your side, you watched Idia for a quiet moment, enjoying the soft sounds of his keyboard as he blatantly tried to avoid looking at you. His long blue hair cascading down his shoulders, flickering endlessly as his delicate hands continued to brush it aside, the flames melding at his touch—

Your own fingers twitched. What did his hair feel like?

Idia glanced up at you from underneath his bangs. His hair changed color again, more soft threads of pink appearing when he realized he still had your attention. His painted mouth pulled into a pout. “Don’t look at me like that! We only lost because of RNG— let’s try again.”

“Let’s take a break, actually,” you stretched again, finally pulling yourself up onto your knees, trying to rub the screen-strain from your eyes.

Idia winced at even the slightest rejection, but he nodded, setting his computer down on the couch cushions and vaguely turning in your direction. “—what are we doing now, then? A different game? A movie?”

“Don’t you think you need a haircut?”

Idia jolted backwards immediately, his spine pressed into the back of the couch, eyes going wide as his hair paled to almost the same shade as his skin. “St— hey, stay back! No scissors!”

A beat of silence, followed by a laugh that bubbled its way out of your throat. You almost doubled over at the expression on his face. “That’s not what I meant!” It took a moment for you to catch your breath, but as soon as you did, you waved off Idia’s concerns. “I’m just making conversation, Idia. You should try it sometime.”

Without waiting for a response, you untangled yourself from your nest of pillows sprawled across the floor, stepping over to where you’d dropped your bag hours ago. Idia’s eyes widened yet again as he watched you fumbling through your bag, clearly looking for something specific. “...Hey, you’re not gonna—”

“Calm down,” you said gently. Once your hands closed around what you were looking for, you pulled them from your bag slowly, as if trying not to startle a skittish pet. “I’m not gonna cut your hair.”

“But you do intend to do something.” His eyes narrowed at you. No point in dodging that accusation, because it was true; you held up the bundle of personal treasures from your bag, letting Idia examine them before you made any sudden moves.

Hair ties. Decorative barrettes. That small brush you always forgot you were carrying.

“Let me put your hair up, Idia.”

The dorm leader sat quietly for a moment, his sharp eyes flickering between your hands and your face; if you looked any closer, you’d be able to see his own hands trembling. What kind of dating sim scene is this turning into—?

“Okay.” He immediately pressed a hand to his mouth, as if to catch the word before it fell. You had clearly already heard him, though— your face lit up in a way that made his chest twist.

“Really?! You’ll let me?” Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to say yes.

Idia turned his face away from you as if to hide his blush, although that did nothing against the kaleidoscope of his hair colors. “—hurry up before I change my mind!”

You nodded happily, stepping around the couch to stand behind him. He’d agreed so much easier than you’d expected, so you’d better take the chance while you have it.

Sitting in front of you, Idia shifted nervously; for someone with anxiety, being able to feel but not see a person behind him sent adrenaline through his veins, even though he knew it was just you. He began to turn his head so he could stare back at you over his shoulder, but your warm hands landed gently on the side of his face, directing him to stare forward again. “Sit still,” you chided— and then finally, you began to run your fingers through the ethereal flames he called his hair.

The first thing you noticed was that it didn’t burn. In fact, the flames weren’t even warm. You hummed in vague surprise as you twisted a few strands around your fingers, admiring the texture, memorizing the color. When the sound left your throat, Idia shifted again.

“Wh— what’s that noise supposed to mean?” He tried to sound demanding, but his voice wavered and he winced; talk about undermining himself.

“Nothing bad,” you assured him, continuing to fiddle with the ends of blue strands. “I’m just surprised— it looks like fire, but being able to touch it is just so…”

Idia leaned further back against the couch and tilted his head to look up at you, bemusement painted across his face. The movement sent his long hair shimmering like a waterfall over the back of the sofa. “Of course it’s not as hot as regular flames,” he said, “do you have any idea how uncomfortable that would be?”

You laughed lightly at that and nudged his head forward again.

You took your time running fingers through his dancing flames— never knew if you’d get this chance again, after all. As your nails gently dragged along Idia’s scalp, he let out a soft sigh and leaned back into your touch, his shades of blue beginning to flicker lavender instead. Experimentally, you began to gather as much as you could hold in one hand, to see if a ponytail would work.

When your nails gently scraped against the nape of his neck, Idia shuddered. His eyes flew open— when had he closed them?— and he jolted forward, the movement dragging his hair out of your grasp. “Watch it,” he bit out, although there was no real force behind his voice.

“Sorry, sorry,” you hummed, although it was fairly obvious you weren’t sorry at all. As Idia grumbled and settled back against the couch, you decided to move on from just playing with his hair. He’d get restless if you didn’t actually get to work, after all. You picked up your small brush in one hand, regathering his hair in the other. “Are you tender-headed?”

“...I don’t know,” he admitted, “It’s not like I brush it often.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you said lightly. Before he could bite back, you ran the brush through Idia’s hair, and any remaining snark died on his tongue. Instead, he gasped sharply, leaning back into the feeling.

Brushing his hair was an odd feeling for both of you. His flames were, of course, tangible enough to hold, but they weighed practically nothing in your hand, and there was no resistance as your dragged the bristles through his blue waves.

For his part, Idia felt like he was actually on fire this time. Since his hair was so fluid, he’d never felt the need to pay much attention to it; the feeling of a brush was already fairly foreign to him, but knowing you were the one brushing it for him sent a current of electricity up his spine and back again.

He squirmed in place, messing up your progress. You twisted a strand between your fingers again, tugging sharply so he felt the brief sting on his scalp, earning a hiss from his throat. “Sit still,” you ordered; Idia huffed, but obeyed.

As one of your hands pulled the brush through his long hair, your other hand came up to play with the shorter strands closer to his face. Some of them were tucked behind his ear, or gathered into place where the brush could drag them along; others, you detangled with your fingers, arranging them to frame his pretty face. Your fingertips gently ghosted along the edge of his jaw and Idia shivered again.

Folded in his lap, Idia’s hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting. He tapped his fingers against his knees, he pressed his fingertips together, he folded and unfolded the hem of his shirt— all the while, his hair changed color back and forth, threads of shy pink and purple following the trail of your hands like waves returning to shore.

“—is this comfortable?” You asked quietly, as to not shattered the gentle atmosphere that had settled over his dorm room, resting on your shoulders.

Idia was silent for a moment, long enough that you almost wondered if he’d fallen asleep. When he did finally speak up, his voice sounded a bit dazed. “It’s fine.”

It was more than fine— he leaned into your touch like a cat trying to convince you it had been ignored all day. When he thought about it— and thinking straight was damn hard, with your hands in his hair— Idia couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched like this. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched at all, actually.

The brush in your hands changed direction all at once. Instead of running downwards to detangle the bright embers, you twisted his hair and lifted it away from his neck, running the brush upwards along the underside, preparing to shape it into a proper ponytail. Idia couldn’t help himself— his eyes rolled, and a soft sound clawed its way out of his throat. You stopped immediately, and he could feel your presence getting heavier behind him as you leaned closer.

“Idia? Was that a—?”

“Shut up!” He bit out. He practically doubled over on the couch, propping his arms up on his knees so he could bury his face in his hands. His hair betrayed him yet again, every single lock of flame flaring the brightest pink you’d ever seen. You had to press a hand to your mouth in order to stifle a laugh.

Idia groaned into his hands. “I want to reload this scene and pick a different dialogue option.”

You bit your tongue in order to regain control of your voice. “It’s okay to enjoy this, y’know. Can I keep going?” You gently twisted another strand between your thumb and index finger, sending a wave of goosebumps across his pale skin. Idia let out a shaky breath— but in the end, he nodded, and you could feel your face light up again.

Gathering his hair in your hand once more, you brushed it into a loose ponytail at the crown of his head, gently tugging it into several different positions to decide which worked best. “Your hair is so pretty, Idia,” you hummed as you set the brush to the side. Before grabbing a hair tie, you took the chance to scratch your nails at the nape of his neck once more, messing with the tiny flickering baby embers. Idia moaned again, much less shy about the sound that time.

You combed all his hair into your hand once more, making sure you didn’t miss any of the longer strands, and then finally snatched up one of your hair ties to secure everything into place. Once that was done, your hands landed on his shoulders, making Idia jump; he tilted his head back again to stare up at you with wide eyes.

“Is that it?” he asked, a hint of confusion creeping into his voice. “That wasn’t nearly as HP-draining as I thought it would be/”

You snickered a bit and tugged on another long strand of his hair, just hard enough to earn yourself a cute little whine. “Hang on, I’ve gotta add a final touch.”

Before he could protest, you’d gathered your barrettes and hair clips and swept his bangs away from his forehead, pinning them in place with a string of colored butterflies. “There,” you said happily, “you should be able to see the screen now.”

Once you’d moved back, Idia scrambled to grab his laptop. It had fallen asleep, so the screen was dark, and he used that to examine his reflection. When he moved, his long hair swished; as he stared at his reflection, his hand came up to run his thumb across the butterfly clips.

Idia turned back to you with a huff and a pout. “Open your inventory again,” he demanded, “I want a different accessory.”

[spunsugarmusings]

Laura Bow In: The Dagger of Amon-Ra Sentence Starter Pack

Quotes taken from the game Laura Bow In: The Dagger of Amon-Ra, the wildly tonally different sequel to The Colonel's Bequest. TW for murder, death, infidelity and such. Change pronouns and tenses as needed, some entries have been edited for clarity, and please enjoy!

"There is still time to correct this most grievous misunderstanding."

"Don't let him shake you. He's tough on the outside, but inside, he's got a heart of stone."

"Don't touch it! You don't know where it's been!"

"That's what you think, you mallard rest buffoon!"

"It is a unicorn, left over from a King's Quest game."

"You're in a heck of a pickle now!"

"Death is a natural part of life, so when your time comes, it's best to accept it and go out gracefully."

"Your perky demeanor and thorough technique are making you a First Class Detective."

"Death from traumatic lead poisoning claims many lives every year."

"Stay out of my way, or I'll thrash you within an inch of your life!"

"We usually just hire men for this job. It's rough out there, and you're kind of…small."

"You mean there's ANOTHER [NAME]? No two sets of parents could be THAT cruel."

"He's got a chip on his shoulder the size of the Brooklyn Bridge. He'll try to cut you down. Just shake it off; that's what I had to do."

"Look, that was long ago and far away, okay? The room was dark and I was NOT married at the time."

"I don't know how you know about that, but I don't want to hear another word about it."

"Oh, lovely place if you like rats, thieves, and roughnecks."

"Don't bother Doctor Jazz while he's performing."

"Ya look so cute in that outfit, it makes me want to scream!"

"I find it distasteful to celebrate thievery in the name of science!"

"Amon-Ra will have his revenge!"

"Excuse me, SIR, but I see a turkey leg on the buffet table that requires my attention."

"I just happened to be standing here."

"I don't think my wife would ever have done it in a mummy case."

"Oh, I'm sure his body is crawling with maggots by now."

"If his spirit IS with you, let me know because I'd love to see it!"

"Very kind of you to say that, but there are many who misinterpret my actions."

"A delightful girl. I keep asking her if she'd like to be my second wife."

"It never hurts to have highly-placed friends on the police force, no?"

"He doesn't care a fig for what's right and what's wrong! His evil deeds will catch up to him though, just wait and see!"

"Our civilization has evolved over thousands of years, so our methods are quite well thought out and practical."

"I almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on."

"Even empty water glasses have their uses."

"Oh, wunderbar! Now we've got the AMATEURS involved."

"The food is free of bugs, if that's what you were worried about."

"That translates out to: "My Fish Dances in the Parking Lot"?!"

"The tablet says: "She who reads this cursed tablet is doomed to be eaten by a thousand voracious scarabs"."

"You might cut yourself, or you could put an eye out, or any number of other things could happen that your mother warned you about when you were little and everything in your life was dangerous."

"Your face has certainly changed to an attractive pale color, my dear."

"Remember our deal."

"You'll have to show me how sorry you are. Kiss me."

"Honestly, you men can be such crybabies."

"Because of you, a murderer is running around loose in this city, free to kill again!"

"I've got more tricks than you have braincells!"

"Nobody just happens to HIDE behind a museum tapestry!"

"The nerve, going around accusing people of stealing paintings!"

"Just be keeping in mind that I'd have to kill you if I ever found out you were sleeping with someone else."

"It's been a long time since I've been able to trust anyone as much as I trust you."

"We've got a perfectly good art burglary scheme going!"

"That's not blood, you got me all excited..."

"That man'd lie to his own MOTHER if someone paid him for it!"

"I lost a load of Egyptian cobras down there a few weeks ago, and I occasionally come across one of the little darlings."

"I need more proof before I subject him to the full force of my wrath."

"Why are you tied up on my desk?"

"If you see him, will you tell him [NAME] is dying on the desk in my office?"

"Ah, excuse me, I was looking for the women's lounge?"

"There is too much at stake here, too many important people are involved!"

"We can either test you or sacrifice you, it's your choice!"

"It's all that damned lousy reporter's fault!"

[lobotomyd0ll]

Little Girl Lost

Getting sober from hard drugs, especially heroin really is like being reborn. I've spent years nodding off, numbing & forgetting. Each time you pull a plunger of the rig back you chip away parts of your identity... Until there's nothing left. I think that's why it's so hard to stay sober. When you realize you don't know who you are anymore it's terrifying. Your own thoughts and feelings feel foreign to you. So you run back to the one thing that feels familiar, even though its the very thing that put you in that predicament in the first place.

I've had a thousand different "personalities" before I stopped shooting up. All of them were failed attempts at trying to establish a life for myself that could never be lived because I was still killing myself on a daily basis. Each persona dying quicker than the last. It wasn't until I had spent years in therapy, without doing drugs that I finally got to know myself. People always tell you that they miss the person you used to be before you ever picked up substances. And so a lot of people strive to become the person they were before they became a junkie. The problem with that is that person is what lead you to selling your soul. The person you used to be was in so much pain they sought out a lethal relief from it.

The person you were before you got high is never going to come back. They were gone the minute you found out what it felt like to not feel at all. When you get clean you have to figure out how to live life again while trying to figure out who you are at the same time. And if you started doing drugs when you were a kid like I did, you never really had a chance to grow up either. Most addicts have some form of mental illness too. In my case I am bipolar. It took me years after getting clean to figure out who I truly am. I've been sober for 5 years now and it wasn't until about 1-2 years ago that I felt like I had finally "found myself." I hate the term "found myself" because its always used in such cliché examples, but if you are in recovery then you know that its the only way to describe what its like.

Every day I'm still finding myself. When you're in active addiction your only focus is getting drugs and doing drugs. In all that time you didn't do things that "regular" people did. You didn't explore different hobbies or watch tons of movies. You didn't binge watch your favorite tv shows or read books that changed your life. I'm not saying you never do those things while you're on drugs, but most people (like me) barely ever explore different interests because my main interest was heroin.

Now that I am sober and I am completely aware of who I am and what I love, I appreciate everything so much more now. My interests are not just interests anymore, they are my life line. My obsessions. My oxygen. I am autistic so I have a ton of special interests too, but all of my interests mean a great deal to me. Nowadays if i discover a song i like i will listen to it on repeat for 3 days. I will watch the same film 20 times in a row without getting sick of it. In my opinion, addicts never stop being addicted to something. I think us addicts will always replace drug addiction with an addiction to something else. It could be a lot of things or one big thing. It differs between different types of people. Heroin almost killed me and I wish I could take away all the pain and suffering it caused me and everyone around me, but in a weird way I am sort of thankful to have gone through it because of the way it has made me view life today.

I appreciate little things so much more than other people do. I enjoy video games that make me happy in a way that people enjoy going to an amusement park. My favorite books, characters, fictional environments and songs are all little pieces of who I am. I am so grateful for media. I'm so grateful to have constant access to it via my phone or television, etc. I love that I can write about it all I want to whoever is reading this blog. I'm not really sure with where I'm going with this post, I just wanted to share what was on my brain. I am currently trying out new forms of art and incorporating my interests into filmography, crochet, painting, etc. & I was thinking about how just 5 years ago I didn't even know I possessed the talent for some of these things. & How if I hadn't gotten sober I never would have discovered who I am. Getting sober is very freeing, but true freedom is knowing exactly who you are and embracing it. I used to try to shrink myself to make other people feel comfortable. My style was "too much" for them or the way I come off to certain people seems "weird." I decided actually pretty recently that I'm not doing that anymore. I shouldn't have to feel small because others want me to. I went through hell to discover who I am and I intend to be myself and do what I love and what makes me happy, unapologetically.

[theropoda]

fir the ask meme, 'What is the worst thing your OC does in their story? '

for whoever strikes your fancy :3

i'm gonna do all three of them LOL. honestly i cant think of an answer because the three of them, they're all rather nice people. not perfect by any standards but i cannot think of a satisfying answer. but i'll try...

the worst thing akhiza does in her story is, i think, getting lost in her head with her position as the dragonborn. growing very prideful of herself and her abilities to the point she kind of refuses help from people and puts herself in incredibly dangerous situations because she thinks as the dragonborn she should be able to handle all sorts of horrible difficult things herself. constantly risking her life and putting it on the line. i'm sure it would probably end up putting others in danger too

the worst thing farrenicar has done is fatally poison his dad but he was thalmor so what was lost really :/ its nbd (it makes his mom horribly upset though)

the worse thing imetethys has done, again i cant really think of one but that might change when i finish the mq e_e i finished the morrowind main quest years ago, but that was back when imetethys was a kinda very different character so my recent playthrough is to like jog my memory of both the game and him, kind of re-writing his character in a sense! so this answer might change. however while his story "canonically" ends with him fulfilling the nerevarine prophecy, killing dagoth ur and all, i do have an AU where he, due to a mix of factors, submits to dagoth ur instead so i guess in that AU that would be the worst thing he does.

i do have a fourth tes oc i've been slowly chipping away at. he doesn't have a name yet and he's in the very early stages of like character development i guess? but i should mention him here anyways cause i kinda made him because i realized ive never really had a more morally corrupt character, they're all too nice, and even when i tried they ended up turning out nice (farrenicar was originally conceived as thalmor: look how that turned out LOL) he's a half-daedra half-altmer guy and the worst thing he's done is probably like, everything. kills and eats people for fun.

[ourladyofomega]

Do you remember life as it was pre-internet and pre-smartphone? Is it something you are nostalgic for? What aspects of your life still are like the pre-internet days that you anticipate to stay that way (at least for 10 more years)?

Absolutely, because I experienced it. Specifically, the last few years before grasping PCs full-time in community college. Back then, my diaries weren't written with pen and paper. I hit ‘record’ on my tape deck and have it write it all for me. I listen to those cassettes (that I still have and have been all digitized) and they instantly return me to the alternative and hip-hop / rap's golden era; back when we had Biggie and 2Pac. The feelings were different. The style, the vibe, the type of people around me. There was this constant camaraderie because everyone was around you. I always had friends and plenty of moments within reach. Meeting people outside the neighborhood was way more interesting because they were the type mine didn't have.

Each song that I'm listing right now still gives me a very specific moment and feeling experienced by me, for me, and only me. Songs like Da Youngstas' "Hip-Hop Ride" and Stone Temple Pilot’s “Vasoline” when my family and I took the ferry to Mashantucket, listening to Crooklyn Dodgers' eponymous track on my Walkman when I walked home from school, or Soundgarden's "Black Hole Sun" as a bargaining chip to win the favor of girls from another neighborhood. Notorious B.I.G. & Method Man “The What” and O.C.’s “Time’s Up” were the soundtrack to when I spent a week in Staten Island with my then-hood cousins. Sitting on my friend’s curb while listening to The Doors' "Light My Fire", or hearing Cutmasta D.C.’s “Brooklyn’s In The House” while I was crushing on someone I never met before. I can go on ad infinitum. The music meant so much to me that I started making seasonal mixtapes to revisit those moments anytime I want. Those feels still get to me to this day. I could also say the same for VHS. I literally have hundreds of tapes stored with me. It was a race to record every Philadelphia deathmatch and classic (Seventies and Eighties) game show because us fans feared they’d be lost forever. All of us has some Marion Stokes in us. Some more than others. I still kept hitting ‘record’ while I began record-shopping and found rare titles through backpage catalogs, bought compilations and magazines to discover new artists, and relied on word-of-mouth and mixtape trades amongst friends. This was what music-chasers had before MP3s amplified it all for everyone, including myself.

Even gaming. Going out of your way to the video store and literally borrow or buy and keep physical games - the solid state-era. Fighters were so much fun when you had everyone on the block at your house with no actual fist-fights and crucial shit broken. Or, having a literal crowd of people surrounding you during a one-on-one at Street Fighter found at every pizzeria, stationery, or laundromat. Human interaction was king back then. It was somewhat of a less toxic aura of life before smartphones, social media, or downloading took the mystique out of everything we experience now and poisoned us with repetition re-enforcement.

Now? We’re all used to it. It’s routine for everyone. The same ubiquitous being shoves all the world’s ills and hard pills to swallow down your throat while giving you an equal amount of solace, wisdom, and outreach in return. We traded in all the mystique of discovering things we once never knew of for the convenience of finding and getting what we want, when we want - with quick decisions to boot. We’ve taken it for granted. I still do everything I’ve done timelines ago, albeit differently now. I’ve always stayed in touch with the past while always moving forward and grasping the moments ahead.

Things changed when my uncle gifted my dad a Dell desktop and monitor. He loved free music. We were surprised that we could get anything we wanted instantly. We never looked back since. My music knowledge exponentially exploded through the roof thanks to the digital tide. Still does. I’ve always appreciated the classic synthpop, industrial, golden-era hip-hop / rap, alternative, hardcore, and electronic era while staying in touch with sampling, and discovering d.i.y., synthwave, noise, d-beat, indie, metalcore, long-lost African tapes, and deafening shoegaze over the last few years.

Discoveries of the last calendar decade are part of my current experiences. I can hear Crystal Castle’s “Pap Smear” in my head every time I drive to the radio station in cold Winter nights. The sounds of Suicide’s “Cheree” marked the time I re-connected with a former potential. L.I.E.S. Music For Shut-Ins, Dum Dum Girls’ “Bhang Bhang”, and Tantor’s “Niedernwöhren” stamped my time in Lindenhurst, Hauppage, and Ronkonkoma respectively. Bereket Mengistaab’s “Lebay”, Antwon’s “Helicopter”, and Gong Gong Gong’s “Siren” defined all the walks to the neighborhood veteran’s park. Black Marble’s “A Great Design” forever reminds me of that sunny June day in Greenpoint waiting in line to see Cold Cave. Both pandemic shut-ins and a day out with a mutual / potential would meet at Jade Imagine’s “Remote Control” and Eddie Russ’ “Zaius”. Yard Act’s “Dark Days” for the pinball arcade revival and the drive out to Williamsburg’s Rough Trade. And how can I forget Blonde Redhead’s “Melody Experiment” to mark a triple crown September weekend of family reunions in Staten Island, Cold Waves XI, and a drop-dead birthday gift from one of my all-time favorites?

I still spend hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars carefree on vinyl, cassettes, and discs while acquiring and salvaging everything digitally. No more magazines, replaced with tons of music sites and outlets. (Again, downloading and the endless-open of accessing sounds made it too easy.). You used to buy blind at the record store and be totally walloped at something you never imagined before. Now, you’ll find it everywhere online with no effort. Have all the free cards, spins, and rolls you want. I remember making my first online order ages ago, and smelled the production those fresh packages of vinyl records and discs in the mail. I’ll still purchase rare musicks online that I won’t find in stores.

Backseat rides with Walkmans were replaced with iPods and now iPhones on train lines to New York City; allowing me to carry flat, faceless MP3s rather than physical art, liner notes, thank-yous, and that sugary smell of plastic, booklets, and J-cards. It all still produces new memories and visions to this day. The mixtapes were replaced by CD-R’s for a few years before creating simple personal playlists I still make to this day.

Former childhood memories of opening / closing credits and themes, station i.d.’s, production credits, commercials, and chyrons are re-captured again with a quick rip. Most of the essential shows of my wasted youth becamse a few keywords away. Emulation leaves the door open to an era when it was simpler, more charming, and fun. Not today with the endless parade of stoic first-person shooters devoid of personality and micro-transactions nickel-and-dime you while providing misogyny / misandry, endless shit-talking, swatting, and fault-finding in everyone - all enjoyed by your lonesome online.

So many people assumed that vinyl records, cassettes, and video / pinball arcades fell into the wayside because of “better” technology. They surged back because we still appreciate and want the real thing. We’ve done a great job carrying everything over digitally and still kept it all.

Oh, I almost forgot. About people:

We’ve been facing technology as a double-edge sword bringing out the best and worst out of all of us, pushing out everything for the whole world to see. Remember what I mentioned earlier about one hand poisoning you while the other cures?  

It’s amplified world ills that always existed but made more apparent: rigged elections, the media selling war and dictatorships, disinformation, online gambling, political division, trauma and desensitization of violence and sex, losing privacy - all in an accelerated rate. We worried more about it now, now more than ever.

We never stressed over constant triggers, reminders, fear of missing out, or seeing your life in stasis as friends, families, rivals, and enemies move on (as a form of unintentional competition) like we do now. We shelve daylight and beautiful days for the hypnotism of constant mind-numbing updates, communication, and lethargy. Or, how young girls are constantly told they’re not good enough, learn about the double-standard, be gaslighted, or put themselves out there all-or-nothing to be noticed.

Dating was way easier back then because we didn’t have the bad ideas we have now. Dating sites created a power to pick and choose easily who our next potential or interest is; for winners to treat people like a commodity, dispose of, and ghost them. A comedy of errors for the losers starring broken-down self-esteem and self-confidence, paranoia, blatant intentions, loneliness, and game-playing more apparent. All the hands played are face up and for all to see. Draw, play, and discard at will.

It used to be that you wouldn’t know or believe what former classmates, co-workers, significants, or associates were up to through hearsay. Now it’s all within reach. Imagine being floored when you see your exes- have families, kids, or criminal records. Feel the sting when former #1’s smile with their new partners, or be totally surprised when others lives didn’t turn out as expected. Careers, money, marriage, relationships, adventures, accomplishments, births, deaths, suicides. Some have made you feel vindicated, at level with your peers, heartbroken, or missing out while everyone moves forward.

We throw rocks at people or hurt feelings from a distance, run, and get away with it. We pick and choose who lives and careers we can ruin in an instant, who to ridicule, or define someone with a ten-second meme for the rest of their lives. Or the many new ways people in general can be nasty towards each other. There’s so much bitterness, one-upsmanship, snarkiness, and manufactured drama because we allowed (social) media to run our minds for us. No middle-ground. Pick a side and vilify anyone who disagrees with you because we’re always right, even when we’re wrong. Demonize those who do the same things you do as well. It’s made us into miserable troublesome animals.

But…

Life for me has been so different since the divide that I’ve experienced quite a few events I normally wouldn’t. I started using this hellsite years ago to create an online journalism portfolio - which later on became a place for design, writing, and photography. It’s allowed me to document my time in radio (WUSB) and also show everyone how diverse, original, and open I am about myself and music. I love the gratification when someone reaches out to me about a favorite artist or record, and I love sharing some rare or obscure things only I know about that no one else does. It’s made what I do a unique experience.

I’ve met mutuals that I’d never even thought I’d ever meet (including two from my neighborhood!). There’s specific mutuals who untapped my potential, who I’d do wonderful things for that I wouldn’t for anyone else. These are the same people who I learned to trust and allowed me to be open with, minus the hair-trigger persecution, judgment, and ridicule from the rest. I keep my lines open for my closest ones trapped in destructive addiction, anxiety, bi-polarity, and isolation.

I’ve taken social and world events more seriously. It’s made me to give support who are worse off than me, to have compassion for people, to see opposite side of things, and recognize the real from fake. I have no patience for sensationalist tabloid garbage or the new reverse of ‘fake news’, and go right to what really matters to me: police brutality, the ongoing Palestine / Israel war, LGBTA rights, women’s rights, and other issues at hand.

I returned to my childhood I once abandoned since YouTube was very young. I constantly find everything jazz, sample, and crate-digging from that era to stay in touch with who I am.

Not even ten years ago, I couldn’t even fathom the concept of working at home. I left a decade of physical retail to do remote sales, and still stayed with the company to keep my health insurance, savings, and my time-off. I don’t deal with people’s attitudes, awkward interactions, or be forced into uneasy situations anymore. A literal live-saver.

Conversely, the post-internet era had introduced some hardcore pain in my life. I had one instance when a local mutual I wanted to meet tore my heart right out. Real bad. She’s why my journey into anxiety, depression, and mental health advocacy all started. No thanks to her. Another potential I met entered into my life thanks to social media (pre-Hellsite). She was someone who later on became an addict and I dated her for three months. She dumped me and burned her bridges when her boyfriend overdosed and died. I’ve also reached out to interests and potentials whom I made plans with; only for them to cancel at the very last minute. Their actions left me a “what-if” moment that’ll stay with me forever. It’s an all-or-nothing game we’re faced to play if we want to win. I look back and ended up accepting things I used to be dismissive of, and learned some things about myself I never expected to.

Yeah. Crazy to think that we experienced a change in our lifetimes - a Pandora’s Box - that we can never close. What used to be a novelty is now the norm, and what we used to take for granted is now a novelty in itself (the Othello effect). I know all these major constants will continue on, through whatever form or favor they become. Lord only knows what it will be. Place your bets now. **********

You’re more than free to ask me the same question again in 25 years. By then, you might ask me if I remember life as it was pre-dictatorship, what I’m nostalgic for, and what aspects of my life have stayed the same since. Count your lucky stars we don’t end up there.

[vampirelova92]

The Substitute Vol 5.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Media Storm .2

July•

Anai E.

For the rest of the afternoon Anai focused on arts and crafts activities for the kids and Malikai joined in on playing Xbox until it was lunchtime. It was fun for her to watch every coming moment of the many ways Mayson and Malikai were bonding.

"You're pretty good at Fortnite dad, it came out while you were sleeping." Mayson told Malikai who smiled at his statement.

"Did it? I've actually always been good at video games, you didn't get your gift from your mom." Malikai told him as they turned the console off hearing Anai announce that lunch was ready.

"That makes a lot of sense, mom is definitely not a gamer." Mayson retorted as he followed his dad to the dining room table.

"Exactly." Malikai agreed.

"I saw you last night by the way." Mayson told him making Malikai stop in his tracks and he ran into the back of him from the abrupt halt of his feet.

"What?" Malikai turned around looking down at him with his eyes wide.

"Don't worry I won't tell mom you snuck in last night." Mayson whispered moving around him to continue out the living room towards the dining room.

His heart racing suddenly Malikai could've sworn he was careful last night but not careful enough to get by his clever son, "Shit."

Once everyone sat at the table with chicken sandwiches and plain chips in front of them talk about what the rest of the day included was going to be.

"I've always wanted to build a treehouse in the backyard." Mayson mentioned before biting down on his sandwich.

"Mayson." Ana's eyed him, "We've already talked about that, trying to bring it up because your father's here."

Malikai looked between them both chewing his food in silence, while Vanessa kept her eyes down at her plate with a smile.

"That's because he is finally here ma and we can get a second opinion on that I won't get hurt if dad helps Kenneth and I." Mayson argued back.

The statement made Malikai smile to himself but knew that Anai being stubborn, would take it as a defiance to her authority so he said nothing.

"I don't care if your father was sitting here or not. The answer is no Mayson, and for talkback you can go spend the next two hours in your room. No TV, phone, Xbox or Nintendo, got it?" Anai turned her head to the side at him surprised at his behavior suddenly.

"If he was sitting here or not?" Mayson looked at his mother with anger and hurt, "It's been or not for seven years, I've lost my appetite I'll go to my room now."

"Mayson!" Anai yelled watching him leave from the table to run upstairs.

"Nai." Malikai placed his hand on her arm as she tried to stand up and go after Mayson, "I'll go."

~

Kaylee A.

Tapping her emerald green gel polished nails on her black marble kitchen counter in frustration while Jasmine along with Andrea laughed while sitting at her dining room table sipping on margaritas Kaylee took a huge huff, "Are y'all serious right now?"

"It's honestly all I can do with the irony of how her ass ending up treating Joe. In the end I just think she's being petty as hell." Jasmine shook her head while picking her phone up off the table to unlock and scroll on her social apps.

"I agree, like you literally broke up with him and hooked up with his brother, now you want to be jealous because he's happy with another woman?" Andrea shook her head, "That girl need to focus on her own damn relationship before she lose the other damn brother."

"Riiight!" Jasmine laughed raising her glass to clink it against Andrea's.

"So y'all advice is..? Because she's part of our friend group." Kaylee walked out her kitchen to sit down at the table with them.

"Joe isn't the same guy he was seven years ago, point blank period and guess who obviously notices it now the most?" Jasmine asked looking over at Kaylee with a grim look.

"Wow." Andrea shook her head taking another sip of her drink.

"If he's who you choose, fuck it she had her chance to choose on waiting until he was ready to be serious about an actual relationship...or.." Jasmine trailed off looking over at Andrea.

"Fuck his brother?" Andrea asked like that was the right answer seriously then she busted out laughing.

"Yerp aha!" Jasmine laughed pointing at Andrea.

"I can't with ya'll." Kaylee shook her head laying her head on her hand while closing her eyes.

"Fuck how she feels, she can't respect your blossoming relationship with Joe because for whatever reason she doesn't want him to be happy screw that." Jasmine shook her head, "Why aren't you drinking?"

"I'm about to make one right now after what you just said." Kaylee sighed standing up to go back into her kitchen.

"We haven't been in touch with each other forever, I don't need Erica's usual drama bullshit when it comes to the guys in her life she screws up with." Jasmine spoke raising her glass to take another sip.

"What are we even suppose to be doing tonight?" Kaylee asked while pouring Jasmines brand that had been doing very well.

"Bryce said something about hitting up a new club that opened downtown, trying to reign anyone in that wants to go." Jasmine nodded, "Pretty sure Joe will ask if you want to go at any second. That is if you guys don't already have plans."

"No." Kaylee shook her head coming to sit back down, "I haven't seen him since the Fourth of July party Myla had on Thursday."

"Wait you've at least talked to him since then right?" Andrea asked sitting up in her chair, "I'm Bi and Joe is a hot piece of ass."

"Tell me again how this all went down at the party again because it's just an unfucking-believable story." Jasmine took another sip of her drink leaning back in her chair.

Taking a deep breath Kaylee shook her head, "She basically must've seen us talking and me thinking we're cool told her about getting to trying to get to know him and she said that I was breaking girl code."

"Girl code? Kaylee no, fuck that, mutual friends with this person that you barely know and just hang with because Anai does." Jasmine defended.

"I agree." Andrea nodded, "Like I said don't ruin whatever bond you've created over that girl, I wouldn't."

"Hell no." Jasmine added in, "Joe is a good guy."

"Thanks y'all, are we still going to this outing though?" Kaylee asked taking a sip of her margarita.

"Mhm, let's do it man." Jasmine finished her glass, "Dre and I already brought with us what we're wearing."

"Okay I'll go search in my closet for something." Kaylee stood up taking her drink with her.

"Hell yeah and we shall be judges of your 'fuck you bitch the boy is mine' outfit." Dre laughed following behind them to head upstairs to Kaylee's bedroom.

"Dre you've had too many of those." Jasmine laughed, "Going to be sleep before we even leave out."

Kaylee phone rang showing Joe's name across her screen making her stop in her tracks once she was in her walk in closet, "Shit."

"What?" Jasmine asked sitting on her bed.

"He's calling." Kaylee told them.

"Answer!" They both yelled in unison.

Kaylee laughed at them answering the phone and stepping back deeper into her closet after closing the door, "Hey."

"Hey, where you been hiding woman?" Joe asked like he wasn't trying to sound like he didn't care.

"I just been home honestly, hanging with Jasmine and Dre today. What's up?" Kaylee asked sitting down on the black stool that was in front of her full body mirror.

"I want to see you." Joe told her, "What you doing tonight?"

"Um, as far as going out nothing really." Kaylee smiled missing hearing his voice.

"There's this club that Bryce want to check out, you want to meet me there? Pretty sure Jasmine already know about it." Joe explained.

"I'd love to meet you there J." Kaylee told him softly biting down on her bottom lip.

"Alright see you soon." Joe spoke with a spark in his voice.

"Okay, bye." Kaylee smiled feeling her heart pound in her chest.

"Bye."

Ending the call, Kaylee closed her eyes placing the top tip of her phone to her chin.

"Bitch let's get to it!" Jasmine yelled from her bedroom making her and Dre laugh in sync.

~

Anai E.

Standing over the sink two hours later to clean up after having banana splits for a midday dessert, Anai noticed Mayson putting his white ceramic plate with his spoon on the counter with a sullen face as he looked to the floor. Malikai leaned against the nearby wall watching him after they ate their dessert together upstairs during their talk.

"I'm sorry mom." Mayson spoke slowly looking up, to place his light brown eyes on Anai's face.

"I forgive you Mayson. Go play with Nessa outside with what daylight y'all have left, I will discuss with your father more about this tree house." Anai placed her black dish rag in the sink.

"Yes mama." Mayson replied before turning around to look at his dad, "Thanks dad."

Malikai nodded at him watching as he ran outside to go find Vanessa with a satisfied look taking a deep sigh he went to sit at the dining room table.

"Whatever you said to him, thanks. He's definitely growing into..." Anai trailed off shaking her head. Feeling her phone vibrate in her lap she unlocked it to see the notification.

Jazz🙄: hey going to a new club tonight, you and Kai down to go? 5:05PM

Anai: nah, we're babysitting this weekend. Ken had to go out of town. 5:06PM

"A different person than the sweet little boy you remember a year ago?" Malikai smiled looking over at her.

"He doesn't even want me to hold his hand anymore." Anai crossed her arms over her chest looking out to the backyard.

"Believe me he does still just not in the way it started. Promise no one will have to take a trip to the ER when treehouses start going into construction in backyards." Malikai chuckled while sliding his phone out of his front hoodie pouch.

Anai walked over to him raising her right hand his way only outstretching her pinky finger, "I have your word?"

Looking from his phone to her hand Malikai smiled at it that she still did the same thing years later before raising his hand to hers, "Yes dork."

"It's like I'm slowly starting to deal with a preteen way too early." Anai slipped her hand out of Malikai's biting her bottom lip.

"I was the same at his age." Malikai informed her with a smirk placing his hand back in his lap.

"Going zero to one hundred million when you don't get your way?" Anai asked sitting down in the next chair at the table by him.

Malikai licked over his bottom lip before answering with, "I know you're not talking right now, he don't just get it from me."

"Yeah right, more from you than me. The sun is slowly setting again." Anai mentioned putting her sights back on the view outside.

"Hm, so you say." Malikai kept his gaze back down at his phone, biting inside his jaw on what he was reading suddenly standing to his feet out his chair, "Nai..."

Instantly his phone started ringing showing that his assistant Rebecca was calling him, "Fuck..."

Looking back at him Anai was confused watching him walk off to answer the call as well as Mayson and Vanessa running back to the patio entrance of the backyard.

"Mom what's the plan for tonight?" Mayson asked first, then looked at Malikai walking away to the front door.

"Yeah I'm actually hungry again." Vanessa took her hair out of her ponytail to retie it over again.

"Um, movie slash pizza night and no phones." Anai suggested looking over at Malikai who still had his back turned walking into the front living area.

"Seriously mom?" Mayson pouted up at her.

"Yes it's important that while spending time together we keep our attention on us and not on them so cough 'em up." Anai reached out both her hands to them waiting hoping that whatever broke in the media suddenly blew over by tomorrow.

"Okay..." They both said a little sadly handing over their phones.

"Go take your baths while I order the pizza." Anai told them while putting their phones down on the table.

While the kids watched the decision of Marvel movie night and ate pizza in the family room, Anai popped popcorn in the kitchen on the stove.

"Hey." Malikai walked up looking from the stove to her with a calm look.

"Everything ok?" Anai asked with the fact he had been outside in the driveway on the phone for almost over an hour.

"Yeah my team is currently doing everything possible to get media headlines under control. It's leaked through some unknown source, and we're trying to find where it came from." Malikai explained looking towards the family room.

"No phones rule for the rest of the night." Anai told him while shaking her big black pot as the kernels inside started to cook faster.

"Understood, that includes me?" Malikai asked with a smile her way.

"You're excluded being the center of trying to get this under control the best way how with your team." Anai looked over at him, "Mr. CEO."

"I won't know more until the morning." Malikai leaned on the counter with his back crossing his arms over his chest.

"Okay, just keep me updated." Anai turned the knobs on her gas stove off to pour the popcorn in separate plastic red bowls on the counter.

"I will." Malikai picked up one of the red bowls popping some popcorn in his mouth, "Let's focus on the important things right now."

"I'll try." Anai sighed picking up two more bowls off the counter following behind him to go watch the movie with the kids.

Into the third Iron Man movie Anai noticed Vanessa sleep leaning on her arm while Mayson was doing the same to Malikai it made her smile looking over at them.

"They are zonked." Malakai lowly spoke rubbing his right eye with the back of his hand, "I got 'em."

"You're sure?" Anai asked watching him pick up Mayson in his arms before scooping up Vanessa next.

"Mhm you can relax mom of two for the past seven years." Malikai muttered with a small smile headed towards the stairs to put the kids in bed.

Leaning back on the sofa Anai used the remote to cut the TV off before closing her eyes, as much as she was glad for the distraction of movie night the thought of someone leaking things about Malikai's family to the media started taking over her mind. Over the years she thought about only the enemies that she's met or knew of that would want to hurt Malikai. Including Ebony into that mix only made the pool of people bigger, with knowing how she was. It made her wonder if Ebony was even trying to do what she can to find out who the source of the leak was.

Opening her eyes she took a deep sigh staring at the ceiling before standing off the couch to clean up popcorn that fell on it and the floor, "Bastards I swear."

"This has been a fun weekend." Malikai came back downstairs to help clean up, "Only eleven thirty two."

"Babysitting isn't all that bad when you have help, I'm glad you're here. Mayson is having the best summer he could possibly ask for just so you know." Anai smiled over at him.

"Same for me, I look forward to every future summer being just as fun." Malikai folded blankets while Anai brought the bowls filled with empty capri sun pouches in them.

"Me too." Anai agreed while starting to wash the bowls in the sink, "Have you heard anything from your-"

"No phones for the night remember?" Malikai asked leaning against the counter watching Anai.

"I said that rule didn't apply to you just for the simple fact that-"

"Not every headline is going to be fully eradicated probably until tomorrow afternoon. Meaning I don't need to be on my phone looking at the shit I already know regardless. My phone is off for the rest of the night till nine in the AM, it's okay I'm not worrying about it. You shouldn't either okay?" Malikai gave a sincere look that he was sure of his words.

"Alright." Anai shook her head continuing to wash the last bowl.

"I'm going to go ahead and head upstairs to lay down alright?" He started to walk out the kitchen.

"Yeah see you in a bit." Anai replied ringing out the dish rag and putting dried dishes away.

Once the kitchen was cleaned for good Anai turned off lights and headed upstairs to her room. Opening her door she didn't see Malikai nowhere in sight.

"Where is he?" Anai asked herself looking back down the hall.

Going back past the kids room to the guest room tiptoeing, she grabbed the golden doorknob opening the black door to see Malikai lying on the bed of a dark blue comforter on his stomach with his head on a pillow faced away from her still fully clothed.

"What are you doing in here?" Anai asked turning on the light looking around the room.

"Lying down like a normal human would do after a long day of looking after kids." He replied a little muffled from the pillow he was using.

"I get that by why are you doing that in here and not in my room?" Anai asked confused turning on the second light switch walking more in the room, closing the door behind her.

"The way you strong handled me earlier, almost busting my knee open on the counter before the kids saw us only hugging gave me the hint I need. So I'm in here." Malikai responded, "Can you turn the light back off."

"They're sleep now," Anai giggled, "Get up, come on."

"Mm mm, they might wake up and I don't need you pushing me off the damn bed next." Malikai answered not moving his body an inch, laying like a log.

"Kai." Anai poked his left side with a finger, "Seriously I'm not going to push you off the bed."

"You're not going to just lay and go to sleep either if I do come." Malikai countered.

"I'll lock my door." Anai laughed at him and his silliness, but she really wasn't playing either. Climbing on top of him she sat on his back leaning down to put her mouth on his right ear softly biting it, "Kai..."

"Remember earlier about zero to a trillion in not getting what you want?" Malikai asked with his eyes closed.

"Oh my gosh, we said a hundred million." Anai corrected him.

"I know the trillion for you, biting my ear because you know it turns me on." Malikai told her smiling on his pillow with his eyes still closed.

"It's been over a week." Anai spoke on his ear before licking behind it softly from the top down to the diamond in his earlobe.

"Anai Ericsson." Malikai groaned, "Get off me."

"No, I meant what I said about missing you and I just got off of my six days of mother nature." Anai whined in his ear squeezing the sides of his torso with her thighs.

"You have plenty of vibrators that I have personally bought you." Malikai replied with a serious tone that sounded like he was struggling to maintain.

Anai sucked her teeth at him climbing off top of him, "Do you truly forgive me? Or are you making excuse right now?"

"Where is this coming from all of a sudden? Seriously?" Malikai spoke on his pillow.

"What other reason would you not want to lay in bed with me Malikai?" Anai asked starting to feel like all her efforts to try and apologize wasn't enough.

Malikai laughed into his pillow as she grabbed another pillow off the bed hitting the back of his head with it, "You're being absurd and going to wake the kids up."

"Whatever." Anai groaned leaving out the room not turning the light out and closing the door.

Going back to her room she changed into an all black XL tshirt only and got in her bed laying on her side horny and irritated, "Childish asshole."

Five minutes later in the darkness she heard her bedroom door open and close then the lock clicked making her smile as she felt her covers being pulled back the smell of him invading her nostrils sliding in bed next to her.

"We're going to sleep." Malikai whispered in her right ear once he was fully intertwined with her body under her sheets.

"Kai." Anai begged with her eyes still closed, feeling by his body warmth that he only had his boxers on his body.

"What?" He asked holding her closer to him.

"Whispering in my ear and feeling your dick rub against my right ass cheek, no we're not." Anai said trying to turn her body towards him but his hold on her was strong.

"Shhhh." Malikai softly spoke on her ear, "That's because it's been a week just be still."

Using her mouth she used her teeth to softly bite down on the skin of his arm before licking it, "I can't."

"Nai..." Malikai breathed on the back of her neck, "I came in here so you wouldn't be mad at me."

"And..?" Anai pressed.

"Because you're my beloved. Now sleep please." Malikai sighed deeply feeling Anai moving her backside against him.

"And what?" Anai asked more lowly and sensually.

"It's obvious we can't sleep without being with each other anymore." He answered.

"Then why you locked the door?" Anai asked smiling on his warm strong arm before looking back at him as his head laid on her pillow.

"Because..."

"Because....?"

"I told you, I'm not trying to get pushed off the fuckin' bed."

"How can I push you when you're holding me tightly like this where I can't even move?"

"Go to sleep."

"Put me to sleep, then I will."

"Nai."

"Kai."

Turning slowly a little after a few minutes from his grip loosening on her, Anai connected her lips to Malikai's pushing her tongue past his lips "You forgive me?"

Reciprocating her kiss he pushed his tongue back against hers as she tried to move her body to move atop of his, "Yeah."

Not thinking about it Anai moved her face closer biting down on his bottom then top lip. Gripping her arms tightly he pushed her back down on the bed to lay on her stomach.

Leaning his mouth on her ear keeping his grip on her he grumbled, "You've always enjoyed trying to tell me what to do though."

Anai smiled biting her bottom lip, "I'm not I just-"

Her words halted by his hand easing its way slowly down her back by his fingertips got caught in her throat.

"Yes you are." Malikai whispered continuing his hand down her backside squeezing her ass cheeks before popping them hard with a slap.

The contact made Anai moan into her pillow feeling herself become more deeply aroused than she already was by his sudden forcefulness, "Kai."

"Hush, you asked for it." He spoke on her ear sliding a finger deep into her warm wet folds making her groan into her pillow.

"Baby." She moaned not having anywhere to run with his weight on top of her slipping inside another finger pumping slowly three times before pulling them out.

"Let's see just how much you can take Nai." Malikai kissed the back of her neck holding down her legs with his as he eased his fingers back towards the center of her vaginal opening and rectum area moving his fingertips in small circular motions.

The sensation was foreign never being touched before in that specific area Anai bit down on her pillow, "Shit."

"Take it..." He bit the back of her shoulder speeding up his fingertips against her sensitive flesh.

Biting harder down on her pillow moving her hips left to right as the sensation slowly built and filled in her body fully, Anai felt her legs going numb as Malikai continued his gentle grip of caressing both her cheeks repeatedly before going back to the same stimulated spot.

"Yes." She moaned out making him cover her mouth with his other hand, poking her ass out more towards the sensation.

"You like that?" He asked smiling on her cheek as she drew closer and closer to her peak, "Make you rethink trying anal?"

"Don't fuckin' push it." Anai groaned becoming lost in the pleasure of his hand on her skin, going faster and faster.

"Push?" Malikai chuckled sliding one of his fingertips against the opening of her rectum setting her over the edge.

"Oh fuck." She cried into the pillow coming down from the climax of her orgasm not believing what just happened. Slowly catching her breath she looked over at Malikai laying his head on her pillow with a look of passion in the darkness.

"Tired yet?" Malikai asked kissing the back of her right shoulder.

"No, I want to feel you." Anai turned her head to look his way leaning over to lean her face against his, softly kissing his lips.

Malikai leaned back as she climbed on top of him slowly. Moving his hands to her hips he swiped his thumbs slowly back and forth across her skin as she leaned up to take off her shirt, he moved his right hand up to her piercing in her navel feeling the diamond with his fingertips that was a solid reminder of their promise. Anai grabbed his hands to grip both her breasts as she moved the front of his boxers down for his fully erect nine inches to spring free upward.

Malikai looked up at Anai biting his bottom lip as she looked back down at him, "I love you."

"I want you." Anai whispered slowly easing her body to align with his length, sliding down it easily with how slick her sex was from the orgasm she just had.

"I want you," He responded back in a soft tone inhaling then exhaling out as Anai clenched her world around him without warning, "Shit Nai."

"Let's see how long you can take it now jerk." Anai grinned down at him moving her hips to start a rhythm like she was using a hoola hoop, "Like I've already told you, I do it because only I can."

"Fuck you." Malikai gripped her hips tightly closing his eyes making Anai laugh gently at him.

~

The next morning Anai rolled in her covers feeling in her sheets for Malikai but didn't feel his warmth at all making her open her eyes in panic from the past horrible feeling of not feeling him. Raising up out of bed seeing it was no sunlight coming through her blinds, it was obviously going to be another cloudy day with a chance of some rain. Looking at her phone after grabbing it off her bedside dresser she saw the time on her screen read eight nineteen.

Going to her bathroom door after fixing her tshirt she opened the door seeing Malikai sitting on the floor next to the toilet with his eyes closed and like all the blood was slowly draining from his face, "Malikai?"

Slowly opening his eyes, the grey stare on her lit up a bit as a smile broke across his lips, "Hey Nai, far cry from the intimidating Calculus professor you once knew huh?"

"Oh my gosh, what's going on? What hurts?" Anai dropped to the floor grabbing his face into her hands trying to stay calm.

"I'm alright." Malikai grabbed her wrists, "I swear."

"Kai." Anai felt her eyes filling with tears in being worried, "Do we need to go to the hospital? I can call Dr. Roman and.."

Suddenly she moved her legs she started to try and get up but Malikai held her with his hands to sit fully back down, "I'm alright, nausea...it's just a side effect of the medicine I'm taking so I won't need to go to the hospital love. Please."

"Are you telling me the truth?" She asked looking into his eyes that turned serious.

"Yes." He shook his head, "Calm down, I'm okay."

Taking a relieving breath Anai felt tears starting to fall again from her eyes as she laid her head on his chest letting him hold her close as she felt herself not being able to control her body to stop crying, "Is it because we had sex?"

"No. It's okay baby." Malikai spoke softly chuckling kissing the side of her head.

"Do you want some water?" Anai asked raising her head up off his chest, seeing he was slowly starting to look back normal after throwing up.

"Yes." Malikai took a deep breath, "Let's get up before the kids come up out of curiousness."

"They're already up?" Anai asked helping him stand up.

"Yeah, left them downstairs watching spongebob before I felt a wave nausea." He replied bending down to wash out his mouth in the sink.

Anai leaned against the wall of the bathroom behind him watching as he brushed his teeth and gargled some Listerine mouth wash, "Have you been a low-key super dad all this time?"

 "No," Malikai wiped his mouth with a wash cloth on the sink smiling at Anai through the mirror, "I just know what time they wake up."

"And you're wrong Kai, you still intimidate me to this day, thirteen years later." Anai sighed looking him over, making him look back at her before turning back to the sink.

"Sure I do."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Anai asked again leaning up off the wall to wrap her arms around his waist.

Raising his arms to wrap around her body into a hug he nodded softly, "Swear I'm alright, you'll be the first to know if I'm not okay?"

"Okay." Anai closed her eyes wanting to hug him just a little bit longer before joining the kids downstairs.

~

Sitting on the couch watching TV with the kids Anai couldn't help but look over at Malikai sitting on the couch with Mayson out of worry.

Making eye contact with her, he made a funny face her way sticking his tongue out at her mouthing 'I'm still here.'

Smiling a little Anai nodded at him softly whispering, "I know."

Malikai's phone vibrated on his lap making him immediately raise it to his ear, "Wassup T?"

Trying to ignore that he was on the phone, Anai waited until he showed he needed to get up to talk about whatever was going on.

"Okay, lemme up Mace." He tapped his shoulder to stand up  and walk out of the living room.

Anai watched him as he went to the back patio of the yard, closing the patio doors behind him, "Mama?"

Looking back to Mayson, she gave a smile small, "Yes Mayson?"

"Is everything alright?" He asked.

"Yes babe. Why what's wrong?" Anai asked him.

"It's just that you haven't given us back our phones and Vanessa keeps complaining about it to me but won't say anything." He told her.

"Hey." Vanessa mugged him from her side of the couch she shared with Anai across the room.

"Oh, I'm sorry y'all. I'll go get them now okay?" Anai stood up not even realizing that she still had their technology, not just their phones.

Walking to the backyard patio doors in the kitchen, she cracked one of them slowly once grabbing one of the door handles to make sure it was even alright to give the kids back access to internet.

"How long ago?" Malikai asked on his phone sounding not alert in his tone but a bit of sadness, "Oh my God."

Anai's heart raced suddenly hoping they weren't going to have to leave the country from how distressed he sounded.

"Okay, yeah no I'll be more than happy to do that tomorrow morning." Malikai spoke last before hanging up his call.

"Kai..?" Anai gently called out to him making him spin around at the sound of her voice.

"Yes?" He slid his phone down into the black sweatpants that Anai noticed he wasn't wearing yesterday. She figured he must be having James and his team bring him clothes the past two days.

"The kids are asking about their phones." Anai told him, opening the door more while leaning on it.

"Um, it's fine. Things just got a lot more complicated anyways." Malikai nodded taking a slow breath.

"What happened?" Anai whispered biting her bottom lip.

Looking her over he crossed his arms across his chest, "Jalia is dead, they think it could be murder."

"What?" Anai couldn't stop her jaw dropping down before she realized it, then clenched tightly in disbelief. All in all she never could respect how the woman was hell bent on breaking her and Malikai apart but she'd never wish death on her.

The front door opened suddenly with Kenneth coming in suitcase and extra bags in tow, "Hey everyone I'm back."

~

Summer W.

"What the fuck!?" Summer yelled while currently at the Townsend estate, learning the federal investigative bureau had no leads on her friends murder.

People in all black suits, FBI jackets stormed in and out on phones talking to each other working on finding out if Jalia possibly died at the estate.

"I don't think this is the end but just the start of problems." Detective Willis told Summer.

"What do you mean?" Summer was confused feeling more tears that wanted to fall from her eyes in not being able to process the death of a longtime friend.

"Whoever did this, has left a note saying specifically that and might be trying to target your friends Summer." He told her, "It's imperative that they all are warned."

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