#she!! has a personality!!!! she talks so much!!!!!

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Coming Home to You

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: it’s senior night a very big night for Paige indeed.. and you can’t miss it not when you’re each other’s home

For the past few weeks, keeping this secret had been absolute torture. Every time Paige texted me about how much she wished I could be at her senior night, my heart ached. I wanted to tell her, wanted to ease that longing in her voice, but I knew it would be worth it. Everyone was in on it—her teammates, the coaching staff, even her parents. The only person in the dark? Paige herself.

Now, as I sat on the plane with my niece squirming beside me, I felt the anticipation bubbling in my chest.

“Auntie, are we there yet?” my five-year-old niece, Aria, whined, her little legs swinging beneath her seat.

“Almost, baby,” I reassured her, smoothing down her curls. “Paige is gonna be so happy to see you.”

She grinned, showing off the gap where she had just lost a tooth last week. “She’s gonna be so surprised, right?”

I laughed, nodding. “Yeah, she has no idea we’re coming.”

Aria giggled, kicking her feet harder. She adored Paige, and the feeling was mutual. Anytime we FaceTimed, Paige always asked about her, sending little gifts and promising to teach her how to dribble properly one day.

As the plane began its descent, my stomach tightened. I had spent months away from Paige, only seeing her through a screen, listening to her talk about the season, about how it felt knowing this was her final year in a UConn jersey. She deserved to have her people there, and I needed to be there for her—just like she’d always been for me.

By the time we landed, the rush of excitement made my fingers tingle. Paige’s mom picked us up, greeting us with a warm hug before driving straight to campus. The plan was simple: hide in the tunnels until the seniors were honored, then walk out as they announced her name.

Aria bounced in her car seat, unable to contain herself. “I wanna run to Paige first! Can I? Can I?”

“Of course, baby,” I smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “She’s gonna love it.”

Game Night: Gampel Pavilion

The energy inside Gampel was electric. The crowd was buzzing, the students loud as ever, and the court gleamed under the bright lights. My heart pounded as I hid just behind the tunnel entrance, holding Aria’s hand tightly while the announcer began reading out names.

Each senior walked out to cheers, their families meeting them at center court. Paige was the last one to be called.

“And finally, our captain, our leader—number five, Paige Bueckers!”

The crowd erupted. My breath hitched as I peeked around the tunnel, watching Paige step forward, waving to the fans, her eyes already glassy with emotion. She thought her parents were the only ones waiting for her—but that was about to change.

“Now,” I whispered to Aria, squeezing her hand before letting go.

She took off like a shot.

“PAIGE!”

Paige barely had time to turn before Aria’s tiny body launched herself at Paige’s legs. Her arms instinctively wrapped around Aria, shock flashing across her face before realization dawned.

“What—? Aria?” Her voice cracked, looking down at the little girl clinging to her.

That’s when I stepped out.

The second Paige’s eyes met mine, everything around us seemed to fade. Her mouth parted in disbelief, her hands still frozen around Aria as if she thought she might be dreaming.

I smiled, my throat tightening. “Hey, baby.”

The moment shattered as she let go of Aria and practically ran to me, wrapping me up in the tightest hug imaginable.

“You’re here,” she whispered, her voice trembling against my ear.

“I’m here,” I murmured, holding onto her just as tightly. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

She pulled back slightly, cupping my face with both hands, her thumbs brushing over my cheeks as if she needed to make sure I was real. “You—you flew all the way here? When? How? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I laughed, my own tears welling up. “Because I wanted to surprise you. Everyone knew except you.”

She shook her head, laughing through her disbelief. “You’re evil.”

“You love me, though,” I teased.

Her grin softened into something more tender. “Yeah,” she murmured, pressing her forehead to mine. “I really, really do.”

The crowd was still cheering, the moment stretching between us as if we were the only two people in the gym. Paige’s hands never left my face, and I could feel her heart racing just as fast as mine.

“This is the best surprise ever,” she whispered.

I bit my lip, glancing down at Aria, who was grinning up at us, completely unbothered by the fact that she had just helped execute the best senior night surprise in history. “I had some help.”

Paige laughed, ruffling Aria’s curls before scooping her up into her arms. “You little sneak,” she teased.

Aria giggled, hugging Paige’s neck. “I missed you, P!”

“I missed you too, munchkin.” Paige pressed a kiss to her cheek before turning back to me. “God, I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

“I wasn’t gonna let you finish this without me,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You deserve to have the people who love you here, Paige.”

Her expression softened, and she tugged me close again, this time pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead. “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” she whispered.

I smiled. “I think we both got lucky.”

She let out a soft laugh before glancing at the crowd, then back at me. “You’re staying for a while, right?”

I nodded. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Her grin turned into something mischievous. “That’s a dangerous offer, baby.”

“I’m serious.” I squeezed her hand. “I don’t wanna be apart anymore. I wanna be with you.”

For a moment, she just stared at me, and then—right there, in front of everyone—she leaned in and kissed me.

It was soft, sweet, and full of every unspoken word between us.

When she pulled away, her eyes were bright, full of something deeper than happiness. “Then stay,” she murmured. “Stay with me.”

I grinned. “You don’t even have to ask.”

She kissed me again, and this time, I knew—no matter where life took us, no matter what came next—I would always come home to her.

Paige’s POV

The adrenaline from senior night hadn’t worn off, but the moment we stepped inside my apartment, exhaustion hit me like a freight train. The last few hours had been a blur—cheers, speeches, hugs, and the overwhelming joy of seeing her again. Seeing them again.

Aria clung to me the entire time, refusing to let go even after we left the arena. Every time I tried to pass her off to her aunt, she just tightened her grip around my neck, mumbling, “I missed you too much.”

I wasn’t gonna fight her on it. I missed her too.

Now, after a well needed shower, the little girl was curled up against my chest, completely knocked out, her tiny fingers still clutching the front of my hoodie like she was scared I’d disappear again.

I glanced over at the love of my life—because that’s what she was, no doubt about it—as she set her bag down by the door, stretching out her arms with a soft groan.

“You look dead,” I teased, my voice barely above a whisper.

She shot me a tired glare, but the small smile on her lips told me she wasn’t really mad. “I feel dead. That flight, the sneaking around, wrangling her—” she gestured at the sleeping child nestled in my arms. “I deserve a medal.”

I laughed, adjusting Aria slightly so she wouldn’t slip. “You deserve a lot more than that.”

Her expression softened, and she stepped closer, reaching out to brush a stray curl from Aria’s forehead. “She missed you like crazy, you know.”

“I missed her too,” I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Aria’s head.

Her eyes flickered to mine, something unreadable in them. “And me?”

I smirked, tilting my head slightly. “You? Who’s that?”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh, okay. That’s how we’re playing this?”

I bit my lip to hold back a laugh, but the playful glare she shot me made it impossible. “Come here,” I said softly, and the teasing faded from her face.

She stepped between my legs, resting her hands on my shoulders as I pulled her closer with one arm, the other still supporting Aria.

“You know I missed you,” I murmured, letting my forehead rest against hers.

Her breath hitched, and I could feel the weight of the months apart in the way she exhaled, like she was finally letting herself breathe again.

“I hate being away from you,” she admitted quietly. “I hated every second of it.”

I tightened my hold on her waist, pressing my lips to her temple. “Then don’t be.”

Her fingers dug into the fabric of my hoodie. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “You said you wanted to stay. So stay. I don’t care how we make it work—I just know I don’t wanna go another night without you.”

She swallowed hard, searching my face like she was trying to memorize every detail. “Paige…”

“I’m serious.” I brushed my thumb over her cheek, letting myself get lost in her warmth. “I love you. I don’t wanna keep doing this long-distance thing when we both know where this is going.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she let out a shaky laugh. “And where’s that?”

I gave her a knowing look. “Where do you think?”

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes flickering between mine, and I could see the exact moment she realized I meant every word.

“You mean—”

“I mean,” I cut her off gently, “that I see forever when I look at you.”

Her face crumbled, and she let out a soft, shaky breath before pressing her lips to mine. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—just right. Just home.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against mine, and she whispered, “I see forever with you too.”

I smiled, feeling something settle deep in my chest. “Good.”

A tiny, sleepy voice suddenly mumbled between us.

“Paige?”

We both froze before glancing down. Aria stirred slightly, blinking up at me with half-lidded eyes.

“Yeah, munchkin?”

Her tiny hand reached up to touch my cheek, her voice drowsy. “Don’t go away again.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, holding her just a little bit closer. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

She sighed contently, snuggling deeper into my hoodie.

I glanced at the love of my life, who was watching us with nothing but pure adoration in her eyes.

Home wasn’t a place. It was this. It was her. It was the sleepy little girl in my arms, the steady heartbeat against mine, and the unspoken promise that we’d never have to say goodbye again.

I had everything I needed right here.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[poisonouspastels]

hi guys here's my interpretation of Tessa as a drone hope you like it

[starlight299]

Steve meets Wayne for the first time and starts off calling him sir and being a polite and then almost has a heart attack when Eddie starts swearing right in front of him. Wayne doesn’t even react he just keeps taking like everything is normal. Steve swears his heart stopped beating when Eddie gave his uncle the middle finger for teasing him about something.

And Steve knows his parents are a terrible example for how families interact with each other but he’s never once heard Will or Jonathan swear in front of Joyce and he was pretty convinced she was the best mom ever. And while Mike and Dustin have swords in front of their parents Dustin got scolded and Mike got grounded. Jane/El only got away with swearing in front of Hopper because she was raised in a lab and didn’t even know what swears were when she first said one. So something was off, right?

Steve quickly learned that not only did Wayne simply not care about swearing but he actually spent time with Eddie, and Steve while he was there. They played Janga together on the floor. And Wayne asked him to call him Wayne and not ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Munson’ and Steve was going to die. Wayne even started talking to him about baseball (much to Eddie’s dismay) and Steve was just stunned.

The first day of meeting Wayne Munson and Steve already wanted to steal him. As time went on that never wavered he just wanted it more. He told Eddie a month later and Eddie just laughed at him. Steve was entirely serious though. If he could live in their trailer with the two of them for the rest of his life he would and he’d be the happiest person alive.

Little did Steve know Wayne had already decided Steve was his son in a law. He was going to plan them a surprise wedding in the woods and while it might not be legally recognized they would remember it for the rest of their lives and it would be cute. Steve and Eddie were not dating yet. Wayne just thought they were too scared to say something. Eddie never even officially came out to him Wayne just told him to be safe every time he went to Indy and thought the kid knew what he was talking about. Eddie thought he meant driving.

[shyrusstone]

Adding onto this. Rant incoming.

I have always been described as "bubbly" and "cheerful" my whole life. Anyone who interacted with me outside my sibling circle thought "she hasn't been through anything before. She has the light in her eyes. She's so happy all the time!"

One day, for (almost) the first time, I found a PCP. I went for stomach pains that were worrying me.

I also, struggled with anxiety. So I thought I'd offhandedly mention, "hey also I have some anxiety. Is that something we can talk about?"

The moment I said it I began to cry.

He took me seriously, and offered for me to see the therapist they had in the building on the spot.

I had a brief talk with her, scheduled an appointment, and went.

I was so anxious. I told her everything that was currently stressing me out and I cried so hard I gave myself a migraine. This meeting was to just cover the basics, I wasn't supposed to go into all those details yet but it just came out. My therapist was a lovely person who saw me and stopped filling out the paper so she could talk me through it immediatley. She asked if she could share this with the doctor to get me some medication. I said yes.

He came into the room after being told of my situation and said what I have heard everytime someone hears what I've been through.

"I would have never even guessed you were going through all that. I met you and you were so warm and bubbly. I'm so sorry"

He then said "I'm going to prescribe you two medications right away and I want to see you in a week. If you have any problems don't worry about making an appointment. Just show up and I'll take you."

Through therapy and medication, I have noticed a *monumental* change in my life.

I'm eating better, I'm exercising, I'm remembering to do things I usually forget and I'm way more focused on things.

I'm not having breakdowns each week at work in the break room, or being too anxious to talk to employees.

I'm not thinking about waking up to a dead family every night. I'm not worried about my parents intentionally poisoning my food.

I don't ruminate on the many near death experiences in my family. I dont tense up when someone coughs in my house.

I don't flinch at every single sound, I don't cry if a loud sound goes off unexpectedly. I don't cry when someone yells at me.

I don't stop what I'm doing to pay attention to which way the emergency vehicles go.

But!

I am still me.

I am still a warm and bubbly person, who will love little things and joke around and buy cute plushies.

I'm lucky I got the right medication right off the bat. I'm lucky to have such an *amazing* doctor who listens to me. I'm lucky to have found the *best therapist* I could have ever asked for.

But I notice when I skip a day on medication. I'm still me without it, but it's so much harder to be.

I'm at my best when I have the help I need.

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything​ in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

[twstfanblog]

Heyyyyy so uhhhhh…

What if the mc back in their world was a slave? Not servant like jamil, just, straight up slave where their opinion didn’t matter :( n they r female, afab, pronounce she/they? Hopefully nothing bad happened but people who get slaves r bad people so :((( overblot boys pls 🙏🥺

I feel like they would all threaten crowley to absolutely NOT look for a way to send mc home n to stop making her do his things cause that reminds her of back home in a very bad way :(

N then they comfort n hold the mc cause they r safe n wont have to be treated like shit anymore :(

They will punch anyone who treats em like shit

Which practically everyone in school did when they arrived at NRC, and they just thought ‘this is normal’. :(

Overblot Boys React to Slave Reader

Overblot Boys x Reader

Riddle

Lowkey saw you as an ideal student. Polite, respectful, and mindful of the rules. So he wouldn't notice anything past a few odd ticks that he himself wouldn't fully question since his own upbringing was shitty.

It takes him and Ace having an argument, Riddle brings up that Ace can learn a thing or two from you on being a respectful student. And Ace fires back on you being a SLAVE. Of course, his overbearing ass would love that. And Riddle has to really think about what kinda person that makes him that he didn't even notice.

He talks to you, wanting personal confirmation on what Ace had blurted out. Once he gets the confirmation, his attitude gets much softer. You don't get as harsh treatment for rule-breaking, but he's still stern about them.

End game, he makes up a secondary set of rules for you only. Rules like 'We say something if we are uncomfortable' or 'We are allowed to say No'. He just gets much softer but remains true on rules being important. He just also stresses that you should have your own personal rules now.

Leona

Clocked immediately you came from a background of servitude, though he wasn't aware how severe it was.

He didn't plan on getting invovled but his little bleeding heart took Ruggie under his wing for a reason. It was one part pity and mostly annoyance seeing you getting bullied by his dorm everyday.

You basically get 'Leona's Servant' boot camp with Ruggie suddenly. He teaches you how Leona likes his laundry tended to and what snack flavors he prefers. It's a smooth transition from slave to servant until Ruggie tells you it's free game to steal from Leona.

Leona never brings it up, but he knows your old home was not a good environment. He also knows he can't just fling you into a healthier dynamic with those around you, so he'll do it slowly and sneakily. Ruggie is the perfect one to bridge the gap for him to start spoiling you.

Azul

Knew something was off but had no real frame of reference. He would make little theories and try to figure out why you act the way you do. He only started thinking you had come from a background of servitude when you follow orders so quickly.

Honestly doesn't know how to feel because he did do slavery in tricking the contracted students into working at the lounge against their will. He's not entirely sure how to save face with you after he's come across as a cruel and unfair slaver. Lowkey uses his overblot aftermath as an excuse for a fresh start with you.

He starts treating you kinder, making sure to address you properly and showing that he respects you. People from his dorm follow his lead, at least. The Tweels are part-time bodyguards, making your old bullies more hesitant to start anything because an eel might slip out of a crack or something.

Azul is a sneaky one too, slowly helping you raise your standard of how you should be treated by others. If you get him blabbing long enough, he'll slip into just stating how precious you are to him.

Jamil

I'm sorry, even with the English sanitation, Jamil’s situation can only come across as slavery to me. He's a very well cared for slave because Kalim adores him, but a slave none the less.

It's a little jarring to him to see someone who really could understand. But he's so used to keeping himself guarded he never reached out in a friendly sense. Treating you more like a new coworker; helpful but distant. It wasn't until you accidently broke something in Scarabia and nearly had a panic attack when Kalim looked at you does he realize how severe punishment was back in your world.

Gets much softer to you. It's sad because he does love and care about you, but he would not allow you to be with him long term. You've managed to come to a new world where your old masters can't reach you, you're free. Don't waste it following him back into a life of servitude.

Jamil would understand you the best so he'd be the one to really push and guide you to trying new experiences with your freedom. Wants you to be selfish and use your friends' kindness to make your life better. If he never gets his dream of being able to travel the world he wants you to be able to.

(Should the miracle happen and he and Kalim have the conversation finally, Jamil would go globe trotting with you. He legit has thoughts of just not going back and disappearing with you.)

Vil

I don't think he'd mean anything malicious by it. But he would end up treating you like a purse dog for a while.

Vil has a strong and cemented personality and sense of worth. Dealing with someone as passive as an abused slave, he would easily bulldoze over them and not really notice. Because he'd basically have you on the 'Betterment Plan' he has Epel.

He saw the potential and just kept going because you never said stop. Lots of beauty routines, he picks outfits for you for outings, basically has you as his shadow before either Rook or Epel bring up how he's running you ragged.

Vil never dealt with someone who's come from the situation you did. The very idea that 'No' wasn't a boundary you were ever allowed horrified him for a bit. But like the queen he is, he doesn't try to defend his misstep and goes right into correcting his behavior. The introduction of choices was the best start, but you slowly start saying no to events and choices and Vil couldn't be more delighted.

Idia

Lowkey, I'm not sure if he'd notice in any capacity until you told him point-blank. Idia is the one of the boys who sticks mostly to himself and he'd avoid you if he saw you constantly being hounded by other students.

But, if you managed to get close enough to him, he'd question why you always freeze up when your bullies call you? Why running isn't an option you take? And then you'd tell him about where you came from and how running never ended well for you or the other slaves...

He's not one I think would actively try to curb your behaviors but it would effect his own. Now when he sees you being bullied there's a high chance he'll use what power he has a housewarden to get them to leave. When he's sneaking around, he'll catch your eye and give the mental offer to come hide out in his room with him. He becomes a legit safe space for you to just breath since no one but Ortho really enters his room.

He's had to stop you multiple times from cleaning his room. Yes, it's a mess. No, you don't have to thank him by cleaning. Yes, he's aware you can also keep his stuff organized for him while you clean. You don't have to clean, you aren't his maid. (He is terrified he will ruin your friendship the second you find anything embarrassing under his piles of junk. Like a body pillow, or a 18+ comic, or a stray love note he wrote you-)

Malleus

Adorable you think the bonds of slavery from an unknown world matter to him. Malleus is...a prince, a crown prince at that. I don't think he has 'slaves' but with servants of royalty, I'm never really sure. But anyhow, this boy hasn't been told no enough in his life and it shows.

So when you try to back away from the friendship a bit under the fact of you being a slave and not...worthy of his princely company. He just decides you aren't a slave anymore. Just wills and speaks it into existence. There, it's fixed. You can continue being his beloved child of man, now come. He has a new gargoyle he wants to show you.

Fae to me have favorites, and they love to keep an eye on them. So god help some poor schmuck who tries to bully you into doing their work after Malleus has decided you don't do that anymore... You start saying No and leaving the situation with much more effectiveness because the other choice is Malleus making some poor student drop out for fear of their life.

Malleus canonically ignores the autonomy of others for his own gain. So it would be a really weird balance of him simply stating that you are your own being capable of choice and that your old-world status as a slave doesn't matter here. But with that new free status, you are also his best friend, who will come on night walks with him, talk with him, and make friendship bracelets.

[solxamber]

Mission: Emotionally Compromised || Jamil Viper

Jamil’s greatest failure as a spy? Falling head over heels for the person he was meant to destroy.

this one is for @chocolatebearstrawberry who made the divider i use here!! i love you <3

As the CEO of one of the most powerful tech companies in the world, you’ve always prided yourself on two things: your razor-sharp business acumen and your ability to sniff out deception from a mile away.

Your competitors, on the other hand, have prided themselves on one thing: trying (and failing) to steal your technology.

For years, you’ve played a high-stakes game of corporate cat and mouse, batting away industrial spies like a bored housecat knocking expensive wine glasses off the counter. You’ve watched billion-dollar corporations sink millions into elaborate heists, only for their agents to fail spectacularly. Frankly, it's getting a little embarrassing for them.

But now, thanks to the untimely departure of your longtime secretary (who swears their early retirement has nothing to do with being bribed into luxury exile), you suddenly have a vacancy.

And judging by the pile of applicants currently waiting in the lobby, every single one of them is a spy.

The Parade of Intelligence Failures™:

First up is Agent Steve (probably not his real name), whose résumé is written in Comic Sans and lists "lockpicking" under "special skills." When you ask him about his previous administrative experience, he stares at you blankly for three full seconds before blurting out, "I can type… very fast?"

Next is Ms. Definitely-Not-Wearing-a-Wire, who keeps touching her ear like she’s communicating with someone. Midway through the interview, you distinctly hear a whisper from her earpiece: "Ask about the security systems."

Then there’s Tech Bro #5, who brings a USB drive and, while maintaining full eye contact with you, tries to plug it into your computer. Your computer. The one sitting on your desk. Right in front of you.

By the time Mr. Fake-ID Falls Out of His Wallet stumbles in, you’re fighting the overwhelming urge to launch yourself out the nearest window.

This is getting pathetic.

You’ve sat through twenty interviews of barely competent corporate espionage, and you’re ready to set up a PowerPoint presentation titled, "How To Spy Without Immediately Getting Caught: A Workshop For Morons."

Do they think you built a billion-dollar empire by being stupid? Do they think your years of fending off corporate espionage haven’t honed your bullshit detector into a finely tuned death laser?

You start debating whether to just hire a golden retriever and call it a day—at least dogs have loyalty.

And then he walks in.

Enter: Jamil Viper.

The moment he steps into your office, you know this one is different.

For one thing, his résumé isn’t riddled with typos or hilariously obvious red flags. His credentials? Flawless. His demeanor? Polished and professional, with just the right amount of charm—not so much that it feels like he’s trying to butter you up, but just enough that you actually want to keep talking to him.

And his entrance exam? He aces it. Perfectly.

Too perfectly.

There is no way in hell that someone this competent just happens to be looking for a secretary position. You know he’s a spy.

But unlike the human disasters before him, Jamil Viper is actually good at his job.

And if someone is going to try and infiltrate your company, wouldn’t you rather it be someone who at least has the decency to be competent about it?

You lean back in your chair, watching him carefully as he sits across from you, his expression unreadable. You wonder how many layers of deception he’s hiding behind that composed facade.

Slowly, a smile creeps onto your lips.

This could be fun.

Because if Jamil Viper thinks he’s going to outmaneuver you, then clearly, no one has warned him that you love playing with fire.

You slide the contract across the desk, extending your hand.

"Congratulations, Mr. Viper," you say, amusement dancing in your voice. "Welcome to the company."

His fingers are warm when they clasp yours in a firm shake. His gaze, sharp and assessing, lingers for just a second too long.

And just like that, you hire a spy to be your personal assistant.

This is either the smartest or the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.

And honestly? You can’t wait to find out which.

Jamil has never questioned his assignments before. His role has always been straightforward—he is given a task, he completes it with precision, and he collects his payment. There is no room for personal involvement, no need for unnecessary complications.

This particular job should have been no different. His directive was clear: infiltrate one of the most formidable tech companies in the industry, assume the role of a secretary, gain the CEO’s trust, retrieve the necessary proprietary data, and exit without raising suspicion.

A simple, methodical process. He estimated it would take no more than a month, perhaps two if the CEO proved particularly cautious.

However, the moment he steps into your office, Jamil recognizes that this assignment will not proceed according to the standard operational model.

You are perceptive. That much is clear from the outset. Your interview questions are sharp, carefully constructed to gauge more than just his administrative skills. You are watching him—not just listening, but studying, assessing. There is a calculating glint in your eyes that suggests you have already categorized him in some way, and he does not yet know whether that categorization is in his favor.

Then comes the moment that shifts the trajectory of his expectations entirely.

You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled as you regard him with an almost amused expression. "So, Mr. Viper," you say, voice laced with something close to mischief, "are you a spy?"

The question is absurd in its directness, yet the casual way you pose it makes it clear that you are not expecting a confession—you are testing him. A lesser operative might have faltered, might have hesitated for the fraction of a second that would betray uncertainty. Jamil, however, meets your gaze evenly, offering a measured smile.

"If I were," he replies smoothly, "would I admit it?"

You laugh—not a dismissive scoff, but an actual, entertained laugh, as if you are thoroughly enjoying this game. And that is what makes Jamil's stomach twist slightly. Because he is beginning to suspect that you already know.

The contract slides across the desk, a silent challenge. He watches as you extend your hand, the motion deliberate, expectant.

He has been in the industry long enough to recognize a trap when he sees one. And yet, despite every internal alarm warning him to be cautious, he shakes your hand.

He has taken on countless assignments in his career, but this time is different.

This time, he is not just infiltrating a company. He is stepping into a game.

And for the first time in his life, Jamil wonders if he is the one being played.

Jamil Viper is, quite frankly, the best thing that has ever happened to you.

You have run this company for years, clawed your way to the top with sheer wit and willpower, and in all that time, you have never known peace. Your life has been a never-ending cycle of fires to put out, idiotic employees making mistakes, and backstabbing business partners who think “compromise” means “stealing your ideas and pretending it was a collaborative effort.”

But then Jamil arrives.

Jamil, with his quiet efficiency and terrifying competence. Jamil, who doesn’t ask you to repeat yourself because he actually listens the first time. Jamil, who doesn’t need reminders because he remembers everything, down to how you like your coffee and which pens mysteriously go missing when your CFO visits.

For the first time in your career, you are leaving work at a reasonable hour.

You actually saw the sunset yesterday. The sunset. Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve seen anything but the dim glow of your office lights at midnight? You don’t. You’re afraid to check.

Your skin? Clear.

Your inbox? Organized.

Your sleep schedule? Still questionable, but at least now it’s due to personal choices and not business emergencies.

You are so overcome with gratitude that you nearly burst into tears when you realize you no longer have to threaten your vendors personally because Jamil handles it all with a few well-placed emails.

He is better than any assistant you have ever had. Possibly better than some of your business partners. Hell, at this rate, you wouldn't be surprised if he could run the company better than you.

Which is exactly why you can’t afford to let him go.

You know why he’s here. You are not naïve. He is undoubtedly a spy, sent to steal your technology, your secrets, your life's work. But the problem is that he is too good. You cannot afford to lose him.

So, you make a decision.

You will convert him to your side.

It’s not just about protecting your company anymore. No, this has become personal. Jamil Viper is yours now. He just doesn’t know it yet.

The numbers didn’t make sense.

You were good at numbers. Numbers were the only thing in this world that didn’t lie. Numbers were solid, unyielding, completely immune to human deception. And yet.

Your CFO had to be skimming. You’d suspected it for a while—no one bought that many first-class flights for “business conferences” that didn’t exist—but now that you finally had the time to actually dig into the company’s finances, you could feel it in your bones. There was money missing. Not a lot at once, just enough that a lazier CEO wouldn’t notice.

But you noticed. And now, sitting in your dark office, practically feral with frustration, you were going to find it.

Jamil peeks into your office, and you see his brows furrow in irritation. He steps inside without invitation, eyes flicking to your desk, to the stacks of papers, to you, hunched over and pulling at your hair like a mad scientist on the brink of discovery.

“…Why are you still here?” His voice is level, but you detect the judgment beneath it. “I made sure your schedule was clear. You should have been home by five.”

You make a vague, distressed sound—somewhere between a whimper and the dying gasp of an overworked CEO. “I have a mouse to hunt,” you say, still frantically flipping through documents. “A very cunning mouse.”

Jamil, to his credit, does not roll his eyes. He does, however, step forward and pluck the file from your grasp before you can protest. His sharp eyes scan the pages, his fingers flipping through them with practiced ease.

You watch as his expression shifts into something thoughtful, his lips pursing slightly, his brows furrowing in deep concentration. You can see his mind working.

Jamil is infuriatingly intelligent. He always has been. You knew it the moment he walked into your office for his interview and answered every question with precision so perfect it was almost suspicious.

But this—this is something else. His eyes flick from one line to another, scanning, calculating, searching.

And then it hits you.

His hair.

His stupidly perfect, annoyingly silky, meticulously styled hair.

The way it’s always just slightly different every day. Some days it’s neater, tied back with care. Some days it’s looser, like he didn’t have time to properly tame it. Some days it’s so perfect it looks effortless, which means it probably took him ages to get it like that.

Your brain connects the dots.

Your CFO’s expenses had fluctuations that made no sense at first glance. But what if—what if the embezzlement wasn’t consistent? What if he only siphoned money on certain days—days when he needed to make the numbers look normal, like a fluctuation in operational costs?

Like how Jamil’s hair was slightly different depending on how rushed he was in the morning.

Your eyes widen. You grab Jamil’s arm.

“It’s the payroll processing days,” you say, the revelation clicking together. “The numbers don’t match on payroll weeks because he’s hiding them within the irregular adjustments! He’s only stealing when payroll is being processed because that’s when the accounts fluctuate naturally.”

Jamil blinks, then looks back at the files, and you see it—the exact moment he finds the irregularity, the way his eyes sharpen, the way the corner of his lips twitch in mild irritation.

“…Huh,” he says, flipping back to double-check.

You beam at him. “Jamil, I could kiss you.”

He does not react, but his ears turn slightly red. He hands the file back. “Don’t. Just fire your CFO.”

“Oh, I will.” You grin, stretching your arms behind your head. “And then I’m going to have so much fun ruining his career.”

Jamil gives you a look. You pretend not to see it.

Jamil has worked for a lot of powerful people before. He’s seen how they act—detached, ruthless, calculating. People who don’t say thank you unless there’s an audience, people who treat loyalty as a transaction rather than a virtue, people who see their employees as numbers on a spreadsheet rather than human beings.

And then there’s you.

You, who smile at every single employee as if they’re the most interesting person in the world.

You, who face betrayals with an easy grin, as if it’s just another puzzle to solve.

You, who refuse to be jaded, as if the sheer weight of your responsibilities isn’t trying to crush you every single day.

Jamil has worked as a secretary before, long enough to know that this is not normal. It’s not normal for a CEO to approve leave requests without question, to cover all medical expenses without a fight, to sit down at the employee cafeteria and listen to people’s grievances like a normal person.

It’s definitely not normal for you to turn to him at the end of a long, grueling day—after uncovering a massive embezzlement scandal in your own company—and say, “Let’s get dinner. My treat.”

Jamil expects a high-end restaurant. The kind of place where the portions are offensively small, the food is questionably pretentious, and the bill alone could sustain an entire household for a month. The kind of place where people like you—people with power, people with money—go to flaunt their superiority.

Instead, you take him to a tiny, hole-in-the-wall restaurant run by an elderly couple who clearly know you on a first-name basis.

“Ah, welcome back!” the old woman greets you warmly, eyes flicking to Jamil with curiosity. “And who’s this? A date?”

Jamil chokes on air.

You laugh—loudly—and wave off the comment. “Nah, just my secretary! He helped me catch a mouse today.”

Jamil doesn’t bother correcting you.

The menu is scrawled in barely legible handwriting on a whiteboard near the counter. You order the greasiest, most artery-clogging meal he’s ever seen in his life. Jamil orders something safer, something that won’t take five years off his lifespan.

When the food arrives, you practically vibrate in your seat, taking a bite with the enthusiasm of a child eating their first piece of candy.

Jamil stares at you in mild horror. “You eat this every day?”

You grin, already halfway through your meal. “Yeah.”

Jamil doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

But he eats. He eats, and he listens to you ramble about ridiculous workplace rumors, and he watches you laugh so hard you snort when you make a terrible joke.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, Jamil finds himself laughing too.

Not because your joke is funny—because it isn’t. It’s awful, actually.

But maybe because your eyes shine too brightly in the dim light.

Maybe because you seem so human right now, so painfully, vividly human.

Maybe because he knows he’ll have to leave you behind soon, and yet here he is, eating unhealthy food and smiling at you.

Jamil has never questioned his jobs before. He gets paid, he gets the work done. Simple.

So why does it feel so different this time?

Jamil has worked for some eccentric people before. Billionaires with more money than sense, CEOs who thought meditation on top of a glass skyscraper would give them divine insight, a director who once insisted that his morning coffee had to be stirred exactly 72 times counterclockwise or the stock market would crash. He’s seen it all. Or so he thought.

And then there was you.

You were a genius, of course. No one could deny that. You had single-handedly revolutionized an entire industry and kept your technology locked down so tightly that even the best corporate spies had walked away empty-handed.

But you were also—how to put this nicely?—completely, utterly unhinged. Eccentric was too mild a word. You were like a mad scientist and a particularly stubborn golden retriever had been fused together in a tragic yet strangely effective laboratory accident.

Jamil has had a front-row seat to your absurdity for months now, but today? Today takes the cake.

He enters the office expecting chaos, but he still isn't prepared to see a bouncy castle taking up the center of the room. It is massive. Garish. A primary-colored monstrosity that clashes violently with the sleek, modern aesthetic of your office. It is also, for some reason, fully inflated.

Jamil watches as you bounce in deep concentration, your tie undone, your shoes discarded somewhere in the corner. Your movements are precise, like each jump is a carefully calibrated equation.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dare I ask?”

You pause mid-bounce, floating for a second in the air like some kind of enlightened acrobat before landing gracefully and turning to him with a grin. “I needed to think.”

“…So naturally, you brought a bouncy castle.”

“Of course.” You wave a hand, as if this should be obvious. “Sometimes, when my brain gets stuck, I just need a little kinetic stimulation. You know, shake up the neurons.” You jump again, flailing slightly before catching yourself. “It’s like—have you ever had a word on the tip of your tongue, and then you do something completely different and suddenly it comes to you? Same concept. Except instead of drinking water or taking a walk, I jump on an inflatable castle like a responsible adult.”

Jamil stares. His headache is already forming. “You’re going to break your neck.”

“Nope! Tested the weight limits. We’re good.” You bounce again, then stop abruptly, eyes widening. Your entire posture shifts, shoulders straightening, expression sharpening. You scramble off the castle, grab a nearby notebook, and start writing furiously.

Jamil watches, baffled, as you tear through an entire page with equations and diagrams, the kind of thing that would take a normal person weeks to conceptualize. And then you stop, beaming like a kid who just cracked open a piñata full of gold.

“I GOT IT,” you declare, spinning the notebook around as if Jamil has the clearance—or the desire—to understand whatever ridiculous breakthrough you just had. “This is going to make everything ten times more efficient! Jamil, this is genius.”

Jamil, who has not slept properly in three days because of this mission, who has already accepted that this job is going to either kill him or make him reconsider every life decision he has ever made, just sighs. “Great. So was the bouncy castle necessary?”

You turn back to him, eyes bright, smile wider than he’s ever seen. “Absolutely.”

And the worst part? The part that truly makes him question if he’s losing his mind?

He almost believes you.

Meetings like this made you wonder if you could get away with legally replacing the entire board with three possums in a trench coat. These relics in overpriced suits had two working brain cells between them, and one was currently occupied with nursing last night’s hangover.

They thought that their decades of mismanaging money somehow gave them wisdom. You would almost find it impressive, the way they clung to their illusion of relevance, if it weren’t so unbearably tedious.

You could fire them all, of course. You could clear this room in five minutes, clean house with a snap of your fingers, but you had held back out of sheer pity. They were close to retirement—one foot in the grave and the other on a luxury cruise.

Let them ride out their last few years clutching their outdated business strategies and egos. It wasn’t like they actually did anything.

But today? Today, you were at your limit.

Jamil was standing behind you, stone-faced, but you could tell he wanted to be anywhere else. His exhaustion mirrored your own. You’d been sitting here for an hour while they droned on about numbers they clearly didn’t understand.

Internally, you begged for something—anything—to spontaneously combust just so you’d have an excuse to leave. A small fire? A sudden, mysterious blackout? A divine intervention from the heavens themselves?

And then, as if the universe had heard you and decided to throw you a different kind of entertainment, one of them made a mistake. A grave mistake.

“—not that it matters to someone like you,” one of the old fossils sneered, voice soaked in condescension. “You just sit there and look pretty. Maybe that’s why you keep your secretary around—eye candy to brighten your day, hm?”

Silence.

Jamil felt the shift before he saw it. The room, which had been filled with the usual underhanded comments and the shuffling of papers, went utterly still. The air thickened, tension snapping tight like a bowstring.

You moved, slow and deliberate, sitting up from your languid position and resting your elbows on the table. Then, with a sharp crack that echoed through the room, you slammed your hand against the polished wood. Jamil was pretty sure he saw the surface splinter.

And then, you smiled.

“Say,” you said, your voice honey-sweet, “how’s your son’s wedding prep going?”

The man blinked, startled by the sudden shift in topic. “Uh—fine?”

“That’s wonderful.” You laced your fingers together, tilting your head like a benevolent ruler addressing a particularly stupid peasant. “I hope he has a strong savings account. And you, too, for that matter.”

His confusion deepened. “Why would—?”

“Because as of right now, every single one of you is fired.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

You stood, straightening your sleeves, your expression as calm as if you’d just commented on the weather. The rest of the board gaped at you, struggling to process what had just happened.

“Pack your things,” you continued, tone still sickeningly pleasant. “Security will escort you out. Your pensions will remain untouched—I’m not a monster—but your presence is no longer required. Effective immediately.”

Then, without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and strolled out of the room.

Jamil took a moment to savor the stunned expressions, the way the old man who had made the comment looked like he was trying to compute his own downfall in real time. He had seen you be cunning, eccentric, absurd, even, but this was the first time he had seen you wield your power properly. It was—

Well.

He wasn’t about to admit it was impressive.

Or flattering.

Not even as he followed you out the door, suppressing the smallest, most insufferable urge to smile.

You’re good at reading people. That’s what makes you such a good CEO. You can tell when a business partner is about to backstab you. You can spot a bad deal from a mile away. You figured out your CFO was embezzling money based on a hunch and a particularly sleepless night.

So why the hell can’t you figure out what’s going on with Jamil right now?

Your day is over. Your work is done. You’re walking out of the building, feeling suspiciously well-rested for once, because Jamil is the best damn secretary you’ve ever had.

And there he is.

Standing near the exit, very much still here, despite having clocked out hours ago.

You stop. Blink. “Jamil? What are you doing here?”

He startles like you caught him committing a felony.

Which, honestly, makes you even more confused.

Jamil is the picture of composure in any situation. He could talk his way out of a hostage negotiation, probably. He could charm a boardroom full of old, corporate sharks into agreeing with his terms.

And yet, right now, he looks like he wants to evaporate.

You tilt your head. “What’s up? You good?”

Jamil scowls like you’ve offended his ancestors. And then, without meeting your gaze, he thrusts a box at you.

"Eat properly," he grumbles. "Heaven knows you can afford it."

And then he turns on his heel and almost sprints out of the building.

You stare at his retreating figure. Then you stare at the box in your hands.

What just happened.

You consider yourself a genius. You built an empire with your own two hands. You have patents worth billions. You have business rivals who would kill to know what goes on in your head.

And yet, this one interaction has you completely, utterly lost.

It’s only when you get home that you actually open the box.

Inside is a clearly homemade meal. Balanced, nutritious, and suspiciously catered to your exact tastes.

You crouch down. Laugh a little.

And then you pull out your phone.

You: thank you <3

Meanwhile, In Jamil’s car:

He hears the message notification. Opens it. Sees your text.

And immediately slams his forehead into the steering wheel.

The honk that follows is so obnoxiously loud that a street cat outside lets out an ungodly scream and scrambles away like it just witnessed a murder.

Jamil exhales sharply. He grips the wheel like it personally wronged him.

You’re going to be the death of him.

Jamil does not get sick.

It is a fact as ironclad as his ability to keep a secret, as certain as the sun rising in the east and setting behind your ridiculous office where you concoct new ways to stress him out.

Jamil does not get sick because sickness is a weakness—an opening in his otherwise airtight, bulletproof existence.

And yet.

Here he is.

Dying. Absolutely, irredeemably, spectacularly dying.

His body betrays him completely, weighed down by a fever that could probably fry an egg on his forehead. Every muscle aches as if he has been tossed into a meat grinder, his throat is raw, and his head is a battlefield of pain and regret.

He barely manages to lift his phone and call you, the only person who needs to know why he’s breaking protocol and skipping work for the first time in his entire life.

The phone rings. Once. Twice.

And then—

“Jamil! What’s up?”

Too loud. Why are you always so loud? He winces, nearly drops his phone on his face.

“I… I can’t come in today.” His voice is hoarse, unrecognizable. Disgusting. He clears his throat, which only makes it worse. “I’m sick.”

There is a long, stunned silence.

Then, very, very slowly—

“You’re what?”

Jamil closes his eyes. He does not have the strength for this conversation.

“Sick,” he repeats, barely suppressing the urge to just fade out of existence right then and there.

Another pause. Then, in a tone that is so soft he almost doesn’t recognize it coming from you—

“…Oh.”

Something about the way you say it makes his stomach twist—though that could also be the fever.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” you say, genuinely concerned. “Rest, drink water, and if you need anything—”

He does not hear the rest.

Because he blacks out.

Jamil is sick.

Jamil, your unshakable, hyper-competent, borderline immortal assistant—the man who somehow pulls miracles out of thin air while looking vaguely unimpressed—is sick.

You expected betrayals, corporate espionage, elaborate counter-strategies in your ongoing war to get him on your side.

You did not expect this.

And worse—he sounded awful.

Not just tired. Not just mildly inconvenienced.

You sit at your desk for approximately three minutes, trying to convince yourself that it’s fine, that Jamil is a grown man who can take care of himself.

Then you Google “how to care for a sick employee” and make the deeply logical decision to immediately drop everything and go check on him yourself.

Which is how you end up outside his apartment, ringing the doorbell like a maniac.

There is no response.

You ring again. And again.

Nothing.

A small, horrible thought creeps in. What if he passed out? What if he hit his head? What if he—

Just as you're about to kick down the door in a move that would absolutely get you arrested, it creaks open.

And Jamil is standing there.

Barely.

He looks terrible.

His usual sharp, careful composure? Gone. His hair is an absolute wreck, his eyes are dazed, and his entire body is actively betraying him by swaying on his feet like a tragic willow in a storm.

You are horrified.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, stepping forward before he can literally collapse. “Jamil, you look—”

Like death. Like the very concept of suffering incarnate.

But you do not say this out loud, because you are a good person.

Instead, you step into his space and grab him before he keels over.

“You’re burning up,” you mutter, steadying him. “When was the last time you ate?”

Jamil blinks at you very slowly, like his brain is buffering at dial-up speeds.

“…Food?”

That is not an answer.

You curse under your breath and haul him back inside, which is a feat of great strength because he is all lean muscle and fever deadweight.

How did this happen? Why did this happen? Who let this happen?

Oh. Right. Him.

Jamil is going to die.

Not from the fever, no. That would be merciful.

He is going to die from sheer embarrassment because you—his boss, his greatest headache, his most infuriating problem—are here, in his apartment, fussing over him like some kind of divine punishment.

He barely registers you pulling out a thermometer and shoving it into his mouth with all the grace of someone who has never done this before.

The numbers blink back at you ominously.

“You’re burning up,” you mutter. “Okay, I’m ordering soup. And you are not moving until you eat something.”

Jamil tries to protest. He does.

But then you press a cool towel against his forehead, and—

Oh.

Oh, that is nice.

His body betrays him once again by relaxing into your touch.

By the time the soup arrives, he is too weak to even lift the spoon properly.

So you—without hesitation, without a single ounce of normal human shame—just feed him.

Like a child.

Like he is some helpless, pathetic creature.

Which, okay, maybe right now, he is.

But still. This is humiliating.

It is also the best soup he has ever had in his life.

Jamil finally falls back asleep.

And you sit there, staring at his peaceful, fever-flushed face, wondering how the hell this became your life.

You were supposed to be running a company, not playing nurse to your best-paid spy.

You should not care this much.

And yet.

You check his temperature again. Still high, but better.

You sigh, raking a hand through your hair, and grab your phone.

“Okay,” you mutter into the receiver, pacing the room. “But what do I do if he wakes up and refuses to rest?”

A pause.

Your voice drops, quieter. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want him to push himself again.”

Behind you, Jamil shifts.

You do not notice.

But he notices you.

Your hair is mussed, your usual sharp, teasing grin replaced with something softer.

You look worried. For him.

Jamil stares, something twisting in his chest.

Oh.

Oh, he is so incredibly doomed.

You always knew Jamil was a spy. That much was obvious.

The way he answered every question perfectly in his interview? Suspicious.

The way he executed his tasks with military precision? Suspicious.

The way he didn’t try to subtly flirt with you or brown-nose like all the other incompetent spies before him? Extremely suspicious.

But he was competent. So stupidly, ridiculously competent. And you’d rather keep an enemy that made your life easier than deal with another incompetent fool.

Besides, you like playing with fire. So you decided to see how far you could push him.

So tonight, you left your office unlocked. Oh no. What a terrible mistake. If only someone didn’t sneak in and steal your files.

And to make things more interesting, you left some semi-important files open on your computer. Documents that looked serious enough to be tempting but wouldn’t actually do much damage if leaked.

Right before you left, you made sure to sigh dramatically in front of Jamil and say, “Ugh, these files have been keeping me up at night. I sure hope they don’t get leaked or anything.”

Then, you went to your surveillance setup, made yourself some popcorn, and watched.

Because of course Jamil was going to take the bait.

And sure enough, there he was.

You watch as he sits down at your desk. Silent. Focused. The very picture of efficiency.

You lean forward as he navigates to the files. Click. Click. Scroll. His fingers hover over the copy button.

And then—

He just… stops.

Your eyebrows shoot up. Oh?

Jamil stares at the screen like it personally insulted his honor. His fingers twitch over the keyboard, hesitating.

Your interest piques. He should’ve copied them by now. He’s supposed to be a professional, isn’t he?

He clicks out of the important files.

Your jaw nearly drops. What.

He clicks out. He clicks out. He actively chooses not to take anything of worth.

Instead, you watch as he scrolls past all the confidential reports—

—bypasses all the juicy, corporate secrets—

—ignores all the schematics—

—and copies a single folder labeled “raccoons_for_a_rainy_day.zip.”

You almost choke on your popcorn.

Jamil pauses. Stares at the screen for a long, long moment.

Then, as if committing a terrible crime, he ejects the USB, tucks it away, and swiftly leaves your office.

You sit there, stunned.

Because out of everything in your company’s database, out of all the valuable information he could’ve stolen—

He took your emergency raccoon meme collection.

You blink. Once. Twice.

And then, slowly, a grin spreads across your face.

Oh. Oh, this is delightful.

You knew you were converting him to your side, but this? This is proof.

Jamil, the competent, efficient, dangerously intelligent spy, had a perfect chance to complete his mission. And instead of betraying you, he chose to betray his employer instead.

For you.

How flattering.

You had dealt with a lot of strange things in your life. A lot. But this? This was definitely one of the stupidest.

Your old secretary—the one who took a bribe and fled like a rat from a sinking ship—was currently sitting in front of you, begging for her job back. Why? Who the hell knew. You had been certain that the bribe she took would have lasted her a few years, maybe even bought her a cute little vacation somewhere far away, but apparently, money couldn’t buy wisdom. Or, in her case, common sense.

You leaned back in your chair, fingers steepled together, watching her ramble through increasingly desperate justifications. I’ve changed. I’ve grown. I’ve learned from my mistakes. You doubted it.

Jamil stood beside you, completely unreadable, but you knew him well enough by now to recognize the signs of his barely contained fury. His shoulders were stiff, his posture rigid, and—most damning of all—his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

Oh, interesting.

Obviously, you weren’t rehiring her. She wasn’t even ten percent as competent as Jamil, and unlike her, Jamil wasn’t stupid enough to take a bribe when you were the one offering him far more than money. But this? This was a perfect opportunity to test something.

So you sighed, long and dramatic, before rubbing your temples as if this decision physically pained you. “I’ll consider it,” you said finally. “I’ll call you back once I’ve made my decision.”

Her face lit up, all eager gratitude, and she left the office with a bounce in her step.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, you stood, intending to grab a file from your cabinet—but you didn’t get far.

Because Jamil blocked your path.

You blinked at him, more amused than anything, but your amusement flickered into something softer when you saw his face.

He looked wrecked.

Not in an angry way, not even in a controlled, simmering fury. No—this was something else entirely. His eyes searched yours like he was trying to find some sort of answer, his breath slightly uneven, his expression utterly betrayed. He looked like you had punched him in the gut.

You had seen Jamil irritated, seen him exasperated, seen him indulge in rare moments of smugness when his plans went exactly as intended. But this? This raw emotion spilling out of him like a dam breaking—this was new. And you couldn’t stop the way your heartbeat stuttered at the sight.

“Why?” His voice came out hoarse, like he barely trusted himself to speak. “Why would you… Why would you even consider hiring her back?”

You tilted your head, keeping your voice light. “Why does it bother you so much?”

Jamil’s mouth opened—then snapped shut. You could practically see his thoughts racing, running too fast for him to catch up, but something cracked inside of him, because once he started speaking, he couldn’t stop.

“Did I mess up?” he demanded, voice sharper than he probably intended. “Was I not good enough? Did I do something wrong? Why would you—” He cut himself off, exhaling shakily, his hands twitching at his sides like he desperately wanted to reach for you. “You know she isn’t competent. You know she isn’t better than me.”

You hummed, tilting your head in faux thoughtfulness. “Of course, I’ll give you a different position,” you mused. “No need to worry about job security.”

Jamil broke.

Before you could even register the movement, he grabbed you.

His hands found your face, his fingers curling against your skin like he needed to ground himself, like he needed to prove something—and then, he kissed you.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t polite. It was desperate, burning with frustration and something deeper, something so much more vulnerable than you had ever expected from him.

And then, hypothesis proven, you kissed him back.

For a moment, you simply blinked.

Jamil pulls away like he just touched something scalding, his breath uneven, his eyes wide with something close to terror. You watch as realization sets in—his own actions hitting him all at once, like a dam finally bursting and drowning him in the consequences of his own emotions.

“I—” His voice is hoarse, almost shaky, but he’s trying to regain control, trying to salvage something, anything. “I’m not who you think I am.” He says it like a confession, like a last-ditch effort to make you see reason, to make you step back and realize that you shouldn’t want him, that you shouldn’t choose him. “I was hired to—”

“My dear, sweet spy,” you interrupt, voice dripping with amused affection, “won’t you be mine?”

Jamil freezes.

You can see the exact second it dawns on him. The way his expression shifts from confused horror to pure, unfiltered disbelief. You knew. You always knew. Of course you did. He should’ve realized it sooner. You were too sharp, too perceptive, too you to have been in the dark about something so crucial.

And yet, here you were. Choosing him anyway.

His lips twitch. His shoulders shake. And then, he laughs.

Not a small chuckle, not a bitter scoff, but a real laugh, something rare and unguarded, something so genuinely light that it catches even him off guard. He laughs so hard that he nearly doubles over, his forehead dropping against yours as he exhales shakily, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

You feel his breath ghost against your skin, feel the warmth of him so close, and yet, there is no hesitation anymore, no careful, measured distance.

He shakes his head, still breathless from laughing, and when he finally meets your gaze, his expression is something unreadable, something painfully soft.

And this time, when he kisses you, there’s no fear left.

“…Fine,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. “I’m yours.”

You wake up to the warmth of an arm draped over your waist, the steady rise and fall of a familiar chest behind you. It’s a rare thing—to wake before Jamil. He’s always been the early riser between you, slipping out of bed before the sun has even had the chance to settle into the sky. But today, for the first time in two years, you’re the one watching him sleep.

Two years since his terrified confession. Two years since you pulled him into the kind of love neither of you had ever expected to find. Two years of whispered promises, stolen kisses, and a loyalty that runs deeper than any mission, deeper than any past betrayal.

The early morning light filters in through the curtains, soft and golden, catching on the matching rings on your fingers. A quiet proof of what you’ve built together. The sight makes something tender settle in your chest, and you press a kiss to his forehead, gentle and lingering.

Jamil stirs, brow furrowing for just a moment before he instinctively pulls you closer, his grip tightening around your waist. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, voice thick with sleep as he murmurs, “Why’re you awake so early…?”

You smile, carding your fingers through his hair as you whisper, “Go back to sleep.”

And as the warmth of him lulls you back into slumber, a thought drifts lazily through your mind—

"You sleep too," he grumbles, but it’s lazy, half-hearted. You can already feel his breath evening out, his body relaxing against yours once more. You keep stroking his hair, slow and rhythmic, feeling the last bits of tension melt from his frame.

Maybe playing with fire was the smartest move you ever made.

Masterlist

[woso-story]

Better Boyfriend Than Him

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Moving to Barcelona has been a whirlwind of emotions. The city is beautiful, the food incredible, and the people warm and vibrant. Yet, everything still feels new and a little overwhelming. Thankfully, your childhood best friend, Mapi, and your boyfriend, Luis, have both been there to make the transition easier. Luis opened up his apartment to you when you moved for work a few weeks ago, and Mapi has been a lifeline of familiarity, showing you the best spots in the city and introducing you to her circle of friends.

Mapi’s close-knit circle is nothing short of fascinating. There’s Esmee, who has a bubbly personality and a laugh that can light up a room, and Kika, sharp-witted and always up for a joke. Then there’s Ingrid, Mapi’s "wifey," as you love to call her. The nickname never fails to make Mapi blush, and Ingrid just grins knowingly. It’s clear how much Ingrid means to Mapi—she grounds her and brings out the best in her. Watching them together always warms your heart.

One name that keeps coming up, however, is Alexia. Mapi has been insistent that you meet Alexia, describing her as family and someone she deeply values. But between work and settling into your new life, your paths haven’t crossed yet.

That changes one Saturday when Mapi invites you and Luis to one of her games. Sitting in the friends and family section, you’re excited to see Mapi in action. Luis, however, isn’t as enthused. He spends most of the match on his phone, but he came because you asked, so you don’t press him about it.

---

After the game, Mapi spots you and jogs over with Ingrid in tow. She greets you warmly, her post-game energy still buzzing. “You made it!” she says, hugging you tightly.

Luis nods politely, but his attention drifts back to his phone. You let it slide and focus on catching up with Mapi and Ingrid. As you chat, Mapi’s face lights up. “There’s someone you need to meet,” she says, turning to call someone over.

Moments later, Alexia joins you. She’s stunning, her presence commanding yet warm. “So, you’re the famous childhood friend,” she says with a smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

You return the smile. “The feeling’s mutual. Mapi talks about you all the time.”

Before you can exchange more than a few pleasantries, you feel an arm slide around your waist. Luis pulls you close, his sudden gesture catching you off guard. For a fleeting moment, Alexia’s expression shifts—surprise flickering across her face—but it vanishes almost instantly. She excuses herself gracefully and walks away.

“We’re all going to a bar later,” Mapi says, turning back to you. “You and Luis should come.”

Luis declines, citing other plans, but you agree to join.

---

Later that evening, you find yourself at a cozy bar with Mapi and Ingrid, reminiscing about your childhood. You laugh over old stories, and it feels like a slice of home in this new city.

As the night goes on, Alexia joins your table, sliding into the seat next to you. She’s easy to talk to, her charm effortless. You laugh over shared jokes, and there are moments where her compliments make you wonder if she’s flirting. But surely, you’re imagining it.

At one point, Mapi drags Alexia to the bar to help carry drinks. Left alone with Ingrid, you can’t help but share your thoughts. “She seems like a nice person,” you say, “and she’s clearly a good friend to Mapi.”

Ingrid’s knowing smile makes you pause. “She’s a good friend,” she agrees.

At the bar, Mapi hands over some cash to the bartender and glances sideways at Alexia, who has been unusually quiet. “What?” Alexia asks when she catches Mapi staring.

“No,” Mapi says firmly, shaking her head.

Alexia arches a brow. “No, what?”

“No to whatever you’re thinking,” Mapi clarifies. “She’s off-limits, Alexia. Don’t even think about it.”

Alexia’s lips curl into a mischievous smirk. “She’s a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.”

“She has a boyfriend,” Mapi counters, her tone exasperated. “And she’s happy.”

“Sure she is,” Alexia replies, grabbing two glasses the bartender sets down. Her expression is unreadable, though the glint in her eyes suggests defiance. “But happiness can be… fluid.”

Mapi groans and rubs her temples. “Alexia, I’m serious. Don’t do this.”

Alexia leans in slightly, her smirk softening into something more earnest. “I’m not planning anything,” she says. “But if she’s as happy as you say, then you have nothing to worry about, do you?”

Mapi exhales sharply but doesn’t argue further as Alexia picks up the drinks and heads back to the table. Mapi watches her go, muttering under her breath, “Trouble. This is going to be trouble.”

Alexia places a drink in front of you, her fingers brushing yours for just a moment.

---

The rest of the evening passes pleasantly, though you can’t ignore the occasional lingering glance from Alexia. Around 10 p.m., you decide to call it a night. You say your goodbyes and step out into the cool Barcelona air. As you turn to head home, a voice calls out.

“Wait.”

You turn to see Alexia jogging after you. “I’ll walk you home,” she says.

“That’s not necessary,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

She insisted, and eventually, you relented. The walk was pleasant, filled with light banter, but something about her lingering gazes unsettled you. When she complimented you again, you stopped in your tracks and have to ask outright. “Are you flirting with me?”

Her smirk is infuriatingly confident. “Would it be bad if I was? It’s no secret I like flirting with beautiful women.”

You stop in your tracks. “I’m not interested. I have a boyfriend.”

Her expression falters for a split second before she recovers. “That boy at the game? Really?”

“Yes,” you replied, narrowing your eyes. “What’s that even supposed to mean? That boy?!”

“Nothing,” she said, shrugging. “It’s just… you don’t give off straight vibes.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I am. And I’m happy with my boyfriend. So whatever you’re trying to do, stop.”

Alexia’s smirk deepened, and she took a step closer. “You weren’t exactly discouraging me earlier.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice sharpening.

“You flirted back,” she said simply, her gaze unwavering. “At the bar. The way you laughed at my jokes, the way you looked at me—it wasn’t nothing.”

Your stomach twisted. “I was just being polite.”

“Maybe,” she said, tilting her head. “But if you’re so sure, why does it bother you that I think otherwise?”

Her words struck a nerve, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Finally, you shook your head. “This conversation is over.”

She raises her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave it alone. For now.”

You reach your building and turn to face her. “This is me. Goodnight, Alexia.”

Her smirk returns, along with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

---

As you watch her walk away, you feel a mix of irritation and something you can’t quite place. Shaking your head, you head upstairs and slip into bed beside Luis. Yet, Alexia’s words linger. You weren’t flirting… were you?

Meanwhile, Alexia walks home with a determined glint in her eye. Sure, you’re taken, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’d seen something in you—something she’s not ready to let go of just yet. After all, she’s Alexia Putellas. And if anyone can make you see what she does, it’s her.

[sarahsangelicdoll]

𑁍༘⋆ 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓃𝑒𝑔𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒹𝑜𝓁𝓁𝓈 500 𝒸𝑒𝓁𝑒𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓈 !

𑁍༘⋆ a/n: ahh !! 500 followers !! tysm sweets !! psa if you’re regularly active on my blog i recognize and appreciate you 💞 big ty to my muts who are also all the kindest people ever ! to give back to the kindness people have given me i wanted to do a rec list with some of my favourite fics. love you 💋

- NSFW! MDNI

౨ৎ .ᐟ - sub JJ x Reader x Rafe by @cameronsprincess

cw: smut! 18+ only! dom!rafe, sub!reader, sub!jj, male receiving oral, mxm, degrading.

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘Proactive type of person’ (p1. p2. p3.) short series by @rafescvntyclubgf

cw: swearing, Stalking, pet names, degradation, namecalling, public masturbation, dark!rafe, mean!rafe, perv!rafe, mentions of cum play, mentions of unprotected P in V, ownership kink, mentions of rough oral, violence, threats, blackmail, fighting, blood, gore, mentions of sextortion, Rafe sneaks into the reader's room, panty stealing, panty sniffing, takes pictures of the reader's private images, cum tasting, oral male receiving, oral female receiving, twist dark reader, mutual obsession, rough oral, gagging, kissing, reader doesn't ask rafe if he wants to go further than oral but he does and she starts anyway, messy sex, squirting, praise, drinking, smoking, mentions of drug use

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘Naughty or Nice- R.C’ by @cameronsprincess

cw: smut! 18+ only! mean!rafe, brat taming, spanking, anal, mirror sex, rafe fishhooks his fingers in your mouth, ends with sweet!rafe

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘Buy Me Presents ⟡˖ Boyfriends!Dad!Rafe x reader ⟡˖’ by @bloodibambiidoll

cw: Age gap(Rafe is early 40s Reader is mid 20s), Rafe is your Bf’s dad (duh! It’s the whole plot), Reader has a tramp stanp and nipple piercings, Male masterbation, Mutual pining(so so much pining), Thoughts of cheating, Actual cheating (not by Rafe or R), Jealousy/possessiveness Spanking, Pussy eating, Unprotected sex, Biting, Choking, Size kink, She’s a looong one, buckle up!! 18+MDNI!!

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘gooner rafe’ by @drewstarkeyzwhore

cw: 18+, innocent reader, masturbation, kinda icky Rafe

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘housewife kink and Rafe’ by @rafesangelita

cw: mentions of traditional stuff, rafe is kinda misogynistic, fingering, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, rough sex, headlock, reader is too fucked out to think about anything else, degradation, slapping, dirty talk, hair pulling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, baby tapping threats

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘sex dice with rafe’ by @rafesangelita

cw: sex dice, established relationship, flirty banter, laughing during sex, oral sex (m. & f. receiving), unprotected sex, so many descriptions of positions please bare with me, slight degradation, praise, rafe’s d game is a1 (!!!), marathon sex (?), overstimulation, crying, squirting, multiple orgasms, cream pie

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘JJ and bitchy!kook!reader’ by @bambrinaa

cw: 18+, meanish JJ, ‘mama’ nickname, p n v

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘mean Rafe during sex’ by @bambrinaa

cw: mean!rafe, degrading, rough sex, and other disgusting rafe things

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘mean rafe making u ride his shoe’ by @bambrinaa

cw: mean rafe, shoe riding, name calling

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘corruption series’ (p1. p2. p3.) by @softbabybelle

p1. cw: weed, smoking, drvgs, suggestive

p2. cw: drinking, weed, icky men, use of 'slut', violence, swearing, suggestive

p3. cw: smut, humping, thigh riding, public!sex, finger sucking, risk of being caught, praise kink, kinda degradation kink

౨ৎ .ᐟ - dilf!rafe and size kink by @sweetlolita666

cw: squirting, size kink, manhandaling, dominance, use of daddy, anal penetration ,vaginal penetration, breeding kink, chocking, hair pulling , over stimulation ,praising kink,degradation kink etc

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘painal with bully!rafe and shy!reader’ by @shawtycoreee

cw: smut, anal, rafe hurting reader briefly, fluffy end

౨ৎ .ᐟ - reader giving sub!bully!Rafe a handjob by @littlelamy

cw: sub!Rafe, handjob, crying (idk lmao it’s not that bad and it didn’t have warnings 😭)

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘BODY PARTY!’ (p1. p2. p3.) by @meimei-archives

p1. cw: professional boxer! Rafe , blood, fighting, rough sex, marking, slight public sex, manager! reader, man handling, oral

p2. cw: professional!boxer!rafe, manager!reader, descriptions of; fighting, bleeding, and cleaning up injuries. (m&f receiving )oral, fingering, choking, unprotected sex, slight strip tease (munch!rafe)

p3. cw: boxer!rafe, mentions of drug & alcohol use, rejection, jealous!manager!reader, rough sex, oral, hair pulling, unprotected sex, dacryphilia

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘orgasm denial with mean!rafe cameron.’ by @vampteeths

cw: orgasm denial, mean!Rafe

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘Pucker Up Pup’ by @hauntedfawnn

cw: Switch!Rafe, Switch!Reader, Season 2 Rafe, shoe worship (reader receiving), begging, use of cocaine, pussy eating, praise/degradation, spit kink, choking(with a belt), unprotected sex, overstimulation, 18+MDNI!!

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘sarah's toys’ by @cherrygirlfriend

cw: smut, sex toys

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘polaroids’ by @cherrygirlfriend

cw: smut, STEPCEST, DUBCON, blackmail

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘helping out a friend’ by @cherrygirlfriend

cw: smut, handjob, edging

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘jj rough fucking you in his new bed’ by @jjsloverre

cw: smut, unprotected p in v (don’t do that) oral, (fem!receiving) overstimulation, rough sex

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘size kink’ by @rafesheaven

cw: stepcest, stepbro!rafe, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, daddy kink, size kink, belly bulge, mating press

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘the valentine surprise’ by @rafesheaven

cw: handyman!rafe, rafe is a tad bit icky, tiny bit of fluff, fingering, slight orgasm denial, semi-public balcony sex, spanking (like once ?), praising, unprotected sex, creampie

- SFW!

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘Dad!Rafe coming home to an unexpected visit’ by @urmum-lovesme

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘how i met your mother’ by @rafesheaven

- AUS! MDNI

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘HANDYMAN!RAFE’ by @rafesheaven

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘DOCTOR!RAFE’ by @rafesheaven

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘pervert reader’ by @cherrygirlfriend

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘bunny!reader’ by @rafesbowbunny

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘outlaw!rafe cameron’ and ‘preachers daughter!reader’ by @bambrinaa

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘DILF!RAFE X HOUSEBUNNY!READER’ by @rafesangelita

౨ৎ .ᐟ - ‘BLUECOLLAR!JOHNB’ by @rafesangelita

𑁍༘⋆ a/n: again, thank you for 500 !! i didn’t expect to get the same amount of followers as my old blog so fast. I’m super glad people enjoy my writing and i’m hoping to write again soon :) all reqs will be answered soon i promise !!

[starconstruction]

can you do a cheating creampie fanfiction with twice chaeyoung

Cheating in the Club

Twice Chaeyoung x Male Reader (Smut)

smut tags: pussy eating, creampie, frequent references to cheating.

Word Count:1533, not proofread

The night raged on as the pumping of EDM music pounded against your skull, a cup of liquor sat in your hand. You had very little intention of drinking all that much, coming here to try to get lucky. It's been a while since you last got laid so might as well shoot your shot.

You sat at a booth, dark black leather to help masquerade the inevitable stains of various liquids. The people on the rainbow dance floor mingled into a homogeneous ball, bodies grinding up against each other as they tried to dance together. Essentially just groping each other and rocking heads together.

A strange girl busted into the bar, a space case covered iPhone in her hand as she walked around. She was inaudible from here, an obvious look of frustration on her face as she yelled something at the device.

Her shouting continued as she came closer to you, eyes able to get a good view of her. Slick black hair done up in a ponytail with a thick face of make-up all dolled up, her dress exposed her collarbone, a silver chain laying on her smooth creamy skin painted a blue from the LEDs.

"Gooooood you are such a fucking buzz kill! Every time I invite you out you reject or you fucking flake! I'm going to enjoy myself then don't worry about it!" The woman yelled, putting her phone aggressively into her purse. She looked around, eyeing up for a person to harass.

Seems like that person was you, sliding into the seat across. She looked you up and down. "Wanna buy me a drink handsome?" She smiled, turning the seduction up to 11. Voice sweet as honey and felt equally as trapping.

The mudic shifted onto something much more intense, resonating in your bones. The woman in front of you awaited a response, "Sure." perhaps she was the one you were looking for. She beamed, waiting there while you went to buy her something.

You returned, her eyes locked onto the beverage as it slid over to you. "Whiskey ay? Not a horrible choice." She teased, taking a sip of her liquid fire. "Sounds like you had an amazing time on the phone over there." You remarked.

"Yeah it's my boyfriend I keep inviting him to places but he's always 'too busy' like what the fuck I'm your girlfriend I should have priority!" She ranted, not taking a single breath as she continued. "I offered him to come out and he said he was playing Hades?! What the fuck is Hades?!" She was irate, slamming half her drink in frustration. This girl was certainly interesting, it was only now she was inches away that you could see the finer details of her beauty.

Her face was divine, carved out in Aphrodite's image. Her nails were painted a sinfully tempting red and black, all dolled up for her boyfriend. "He sounds like a dick, but tell me more about you. You are the beauty in front of me right now." You asked, her cheeks blushed at your complement. "I'm Chaeyoung, what about you hot shot?"

"Y/N." You replied.

-

The time slipped through your fingers as you two talked, most of it was dragging her boyfriend for everything he has done. He honestly seemed okay, just a bit lazy.

Chaeyoung had a devilish look in her eyes, "I got all shaved and ready for him! Someone is going to enjoy it! What say you? Want to come back to mine?" A twinge of shame came over you, only for a second though as you immediately nodded. "Good. Let's get moving!"

-

The apartment heated up as you two entered through Chaeyoung's door. Hands around each other's head as your lips crashed. Tongues fighting in an intense dual for dominance with no clear winner, your leg found its way in between Chaeyoung's legs as it pressed against her crotch.

You two pulled an inch away, catching your breath as your lips laid on each other. Breathing her alcoholic breath as you went lightheaded. "Such a better kisser than him." She rasped, hand squeezing your hair as you two went back in. Your tongue fucked her mouth, entering and leaving her cavern as it dragged against her lips.

Your leg moved as your bodies rolled into each other, clothed cock pressing into her body as you dragged your tongue across her lips, the gentle taste of strawberry doing it's best to fight the whiskey. "T-take me to my bedroom, 2nd door on the left." She whimpered, you stopped your assault on her mouth in order to see. Hands locked together as you dragged her along.

Her bedroom was neat and ordered, well maintained as the white desk laid empty. The wall was covered in various kpop acts, but that was not what you were interested in. Throwing Chaeyoung against the plush bed as she gasped. "Ugh, do what my boyfriend won't! Eat me out please!" She begged, legs lifted up.

You were more than happy to oblige, hands finding the strings of her boots. Pulling them off one at a time as her thick legs came free, your lips kissed just above her feet. You were going to make her beg for you, the dress was an impossible task to remove. The fabric fighting against you as she laughed, "Give me a second." Chaeyoung showed her expertise, it fell to her whims and laid on the floor. Body hitting her bed once more as she laid in her skimpy undergarments.

You got comfortable between her legs, pulling her panties to her ankles as you laid inches from her pussy. "What do you want Chaeyoung? Use your words now." You teased, hands rubbing up her soft thighs. "I.. Want you to eat me till I cum!" She purred, legs locking firmly onto your shoulders. "Say please, don't forget your manners." You growled, your mouth brushing against her flesh. "Please! Please please please." She begged.

Your tongue lapped at her fleshy pink cunt, basking in her taste as your tongue flicked her crotch, "God that feels so good! Your tongue is so good." She shuddered with unadulterated ecstasy. You were getting drunk on her scent, mind hazy as you played with her inner parts. "You taste so good Chaeyoung, your boyfriend doesn't deserve this pussy." You murmured against her body.

"Yeah! It's yours, all yours." She cried out, enjoying your tongue in her slippery folds. Hands grasping your hair as they pushed you further in, grinding your lips against hers. You found her clit, softly rubbing it while you sucked on her pussy. "Fuck! Jesus christ!" She responded to your actions. "Fuck fuck!" Her moans grew sharper, "I'm cumming god fuck!" She released on your tongue, screaming as Chaeyoung's body flushed a scorching red.

Her hand let you go, your wet face backing out of her legs. Chaeyoung's face was completely red, forehead saturated in sweat. "Fuck.. I've never came like that." She choked out, "Want me to return the favor?" She asked, her lips seemed inviting but you needed to fuck her now.

"No, I need to be in this cunt now." You growled, aiming you against her. Tip pressing into her hole as you sunk in slowly, pushing into her body. "Oh! You feel so big, way bigger than him!" She complemented you, inch by inch fell into her coaxing hole. Bottoming out as your crotches touched each other, firmly buried in Chaeyoung's cunt.

"I'm going to fuck this cunt! Make you forget that stupid boyfriend!" You yelled possessively, starting a consistent rhythm as hips slammed into her, "Fuck.. Fuck me hard!" She begged, each thrust becoming a harsh slap. Your hands kneaded Chaeyoung's pillowly asscheeks, squeezing the flesh as you thrusted. "Such a perfect body.." You let out involuntarily, Chaeyoung's eyes were screwed shut in pleasure.

"Yes! Fuck me!" Chaeyoung let out, unable to stay quiet as you kept pounding her sinful body, both of you were transfixed in each other's presence. Full of lust as you two leaked expletives with every in and out. "I'm gonna cum! Cum harder than he could make me!" Her words spurred you on, the rhythm once maintained completely fell apart. Irregular slams as you got closer to the pinnacle of her pleasure. "Fuck!" She screamed, tightening around you as she came undone.

You kept going while she rode out her high, "Chaeyoung.. I'm going to cum!" You yelped, thrusts even more desperate as you rode your own high. "Cum! Deep inside my body, claim it!" She demanded, you filled her walls with your desperate cum. Buried in tight as it shoots deep inside, shared guttural moans ripped through your mouths as Chaeyoung accepted your load.

You two laid entangled, cock rubbing against her inner thigh as your cum leaked into the blanket. "Go get my phone." She asked, you quickly left and returned, her legs laid spread out as her fingers showed her leaking cunt. "Take a picture, do the honours, he can see what he missed." A bright flash shot through the room as you took a picture.

Chaeyoung smirked as the phone hit the bed. "Come, let's go another round."

[zacolyn]

-Steeples fingers- So personal thing and all that, but I am heavily into the story of my WoL and boy howdy did things happen concerning Garlemald.

So my boy Albert is Ala Mhigan, the same age as Lyse and the beginning of his story is starving with his father in Stonesthrow. He grows up to loathe and despise Garleans to the point he’s exactly the kind of Eorzean the Garlean propaganda talks about. He’s practically the poster boy of ‘they think we’re lesser and will oppress us if we don’t oppress them first’. He wants them extinct as a race (oh except for Lucia and Cid, they’re ‘good’ Garleans, you see. Later this will come to include Gaius with severe side eye and only because of Werlyt).

Anyway, with this rampant hatred of most Garleans, the Scions see a bit of a….troubling side of him during Stormblood, in which he is not the sweet, understanding and overall caring WoL they thought he was. Instead they witness an openly bloodthirsty man who delights in the suffering of any Garlean in his sights and he has no kindness for Fordola either. She is a traitor and in his eyes deserves to be tortured for it (yes, even after the Echo shows him her memories).

Shadowbringers was sure something with Emet-Selch, the cause of all his suffering. He eventually sort of forgave him but in a ‘cool motive still murder, and I’ll remember you and your people, but you will not be honored for causing the death of mine’ kind of way.

Anyway, now we get into Endwalker and here I had to actually had to have him possessed by Ardbert for literally up until sometime after we leave Garlemald for a while because if the Scions had thought he was out for blood in Stormblood, at least those were trained soldiers. As much as it had frustrated me when those girls died because the propaganda machine had convinced them Eorzeans were evil, they’d never have had the chance to run from my WoL. Albert would have somehow ensured the twins were away, and he would have killed every single one of those people.

So instead the Garleans get Ardbert. There’s a good plot reason this happens that I won’t get into, but Ardbert can feel and is aware of Albert’s blind and irrational level hatred and he does his best to soothe it. (Albert’s wife also tries to help because she grew up with Albert and knows how bad he is about this, but mostly it’s Ardbert because they’re brain buddies).

All of this to say; it actually made me kind of sick to my stomach to know what my muse would do to these people. It’s in character for him, but he is utterly blind to his hypocrisy and it made that part of Endwalker look interesting to me as well as the evolution of his character thanks to Ardbert.

WRT the Garlemald portion of EW: I'm sure that for a lot of FFXIV's history players have been wondering what it would be like to reach Garlemald proper in-game, and daydreaming of epic battles, maybe a sense of "conquering the conquerers"

And it is so, so genius of EW to not give you that.

You don't get any glory or revenge in defeating the evil empire, they already self-destructed on their own. You can't really revel in it. If you're feeling particularly vindictive you might look at the rubble and silently think "Serves you right!" or "Good riddance to bad rubbish." but no matter how much you may have hated the Empire in the past it's hard not to pity what's left.

See, the thing about Garlemald is that in their prejudice and conquest they treated everyone who isn't them as subhuman. But in the end you are all human beings, and so are they. The Empire isn't a nameless, faceless evil, it's a war machine created by the beliefs of humans who saw other humans as inhuman. By helping the survivors you are not only doing the right thing, the human thing to do, you are also disproving their prejudice in the process by reminding them that you're all human. (I'm using the word "human" in abstract sense here, not to refer just to the Hyuran race of FFXIV, but all the races of sentient beings, all deserving of rights, respect, etc.)

I'm trying to shine a light on the significance of this part of the story because it seems like some people have conflicted feelings about helping citizens of a facist former empire, but it would be sheer Reading Comprehension Stat: None to assume that that means FFXIV is condoning their ideology. In fact, it would be antithetical to FFXIV's optimistic, pro-humanity, love-and-peace, a-better-world-is-possible -type philosophy if we instead left the survivors to starve.

[melanchoire]

G!p Yujin fucking reader while Wonyoung watches on the side, enjoying the show before joining the two of you and sitting on your face as Yujin continues

WHAT IF I PROPOSE mean girl wonyoung and loser yujin 👀

wonyoung wasn’t exactly a bully, actually, she was more of a typical pretty and popular girl who has fun talking about other people’s personal lives and spreading gossip. and like all this kind of person, she always had someone in her sights and victim of her mockery; the biggest losers of the university, yujin and her girlfriend

she doesn’t understand how you two don’t have a bad reputation. i mean, losers who are the star students of their classes are supposed to be seen as idiots, not the school’s sweetheart couple that everyone loves and finds adorable 😤

and she always has a comment to make when she sees you two together. wonyoung doesn’t care if it’t a simple comment as she passes by you two or if she even dares to stop next to you just for this, she loves this

"when will be the day you can have the balls to fuck your girlfriend, ahn? still being a virgin even with a girlfriend must hurt. sometimes you make me wonder if you two have even had your first kiss.”

and it’s really exhausting! she is always there. you’re having lunch with yujin in the cafeteria and she is looking in your direction. you’re walking hand in hand with yujin down the hall and she is just there. you’re alone with yujin in the classroom and she shows up there because coincidentally she just forgot something in the classroom.

then one day you don’t know how but wonyoung manages to go to your shared dorm with yujin just to watch her fuck you because she doesn’t believe that two losers can do it? WELL

wonyoung tries hard to hide her surprise when she sees that you two were serious when you told her that you’ve done this before 😭 of course someone with a reputation and social status like hers wouldn’t think two bookworms could fuck or even have a love life, much less when two of that weirdo were dating!

she was in awe at the sight of you lying on the bed, with your shirt unbuttoned and your tits bouncing beneath the confines of your bra due to how hard yujin was ramming her cock into you 😔 breathy and whiny moans escaping your lips every time yujin’s hips slammed against your ass in a speed that you're sure makes the head of the bed hit against the wall of the room

and she is also impressed because she never saw this side of yujin 😳 always looking so charming and charismatic, a sweet and friendly girl with everyone and a complete gentlemanly sweetheart with her girlfriend 🥺💕 but right now, there was nothing sweet about the way yujin was growling against your shoulder and fucking you like she hated you 🥰

but even here you can’t save yourself from wonyoung’s bad luck! she is here, kneeling next to you on the bed

“play with your tits while yujin fucks you, (y/n)–ah. you know how to do it, right? or has your girlfriend never given you anything more than awkward vanilla sex?”

and you obey her order like the good girl you always are 🥺 you would have just pulled down your bra to expose your breasts if it weren’t for yujin directing her hands to your back for a moment, unhooking your bra and helping you take it off along with your shirt, giving you better comfort because even in this humiliating moment she is a sweet girlfriend who wants to provide you with the best comfort and experience possible 🥹💕

and the way you cup your tits in your hands and pinch and twist your nipples between your fingers makes wonyoung understand that this is clearly not the first time you’ve done this…

wonyoung doesn’t let the stern look that yujin gives her pass, being aware of the way wonyoung’s eyes were shamelessly scanning your body, but yujin looks so attractive and so dorky at the same time with those thick frame glasses that wonyoung can’t help but tease her too 🥰

“yujin–ah, you should move your hips like this. otherwise, you will never give your girlfriend an orgasm.” moving her hands to yujin’s hips and beginning to guide her movements, forcing yujin to give you harder and deeper thrusts that make you both moan at the same time

yujin looking so attractive as she runs a hand through her messy hair, taking a moment to adjust the glasses that threatened to fall off the bridge of her nose as she bit her lip and drops of sweat slowly ran down her neck. “don’t listen to her, princess. you’re doing a good job, being such a good girl for me. now just lie there and take what daddy gives you.” yujin says as she lifts your legs up onto her thighs, sliding a hand between your legs and beginning to play with your clit the way she knows you like it 😵‍💫

wonyoung would have made a comment and dirty joke about whether yujin knew where the clitoris was located, but she was so shocked because she never thought you two would have this kind of dynamic 😳 always thinking that you two were the kind of idiots who don’t know how to fuck properly and make everything awkward and weird, making her swallow her words and start to get frustrated for witnessing such a good fuck and not being able to be part of it 💔

when she knows that the orgasm of both of you is close she knows that it is her moment to tease! or so she thinks…

“c’mon yujin, are you going to take your cock out and jerk off to cum on her—? oh…” and she is surprised when she sees, that on the contrary, yujin does not withdraw inside you when she cums, shooting her heavy load into your womb, filling you with her warm cum while at the same time you squirt all over her cock, keeping her length inside you to make sure her cum stays in there until your pussy swallows it whole 😍

wonyoung is so focused on the way the combined fluids of both of you are oozing out from your pussy that she doesn’t notice when yujin gets up from the bed and approaches her, realizing this when she feels a hand grab a handful of her hair and give it a sharp tug that makes her wince in pain.

“now, i want you to sit on my girlfriend’s face and look me straight in the eyes while she does it. let’s see if she is also a virgin loser like you always say.” and wonyoung knows she is screwed when she sees how you’re now lying on your side, eyes half–closed and a lazy grin as you wiggle your index finger for her to come closer…

[morganalefae]

it actually means so much to me that tai and shauna seem to hold the most anger towards coach ben. they're the most willing to believe that he burned the cabin down not because they truly think he did it, but because of the way he abandoned them and looked down on them.

tai and shauna were the only ones who took shauna's pregnancy seriously- or at least understood the reality of it. partially because tai was the first to know, she helped shauna with the attempted abortion, she was the first that shauna confided in. they treat the pregnancy with much more gravity than the other characters, because they know how fucking dangerous and terrifying it is for shauna, to give birth in the wilderness with no medical care, no doctors, a rapidly dwindling food supply.

tai and shauna (and nat) are also the ones who struggle the most after eating jackie. tai because her other self took over in that moment, so on some level she has no idea what she's done until afterwards. shauna because they ate jackie, her best friend, the person she loved, hated, and whose death she caused.

for coach ben to look down on them, treat them like uncontrollable monsters who would turn on him and eat him next, to talk as if he's better than them for abstaining... yeah. i can see why tai and shauna would be angry. does he think they wanted this? to be driven to this? does he think they liked it? and the fact that, on some level, they did like it, they dont feel as bad as they probably should.... coach ben, like jackie, is the voice of judgement that they absolutely dont need. what right does he have to judge them?

because, coming back to shauna's pregnancy, coach ben may have had no clue what to do for her, or been able to help in any way, but he was the only adult figure that they had. to him, they didnt listen to him anymore, they didnt see him as an authority figure or value his opinion, but the yellowjackets still care about him, looking to him for guidance and reassurance. theyre still just kids. scared, terrified, unsure kids, one of whom is about to go through an incredibly traumatic birth, so they look to coach for something, anything... and he walks away. to the only room with a real bed, which (in my opinion) he could have offered to shauna during her last few months of pregnancy. instead, ben separates himself from the yellowjackets almost completely. shauna gives birth with her only help being teenagers who have no idea what theyre doing, but at least theyre doing something.

its easy for tai and shauna to hate coach ben. to blame him for the fire. him disappearing right when javi dies and they eat him is obviously no coincidence. and his obvious disgust, his morally superior attitude, the fact that he didnt care enough to even try and help shauna when she was in labour, and now javi's death? why wouldn't he try and kill them? why wouldnt he try and take them all out in one go? they're monsters. thats what he thinks anyway.

i dont believe coach ben set the fire anymore. i dont believe tai did either, but thats an entirely different post. his speech in 3e04 was moving, but it was tai and shauna who really made me feel their anger, their betrayal. he didnt just fail them, he judged them, he abandoned them and then he tried to kill them.

[annabe11aa]

idc, i’m just doing them,

1. yes

2. love it, definitely better than movie but movie has a special place in my heart

3. marcia

4. johnny, pony, two, steve, darry, soda, dally (as a dally girl)

5. two bit x marcia (marbit)

6. pony x johnny, cherry x dally, darry x paul (i’m sorry.)

7. steve and dally. omg. the shitheads would be best friends. istg. also two and pony??? like??? goofball x nerd??? i love them???

8. reading it in class

9. dally realizing he loved pony and his name being his final words

10. dally harassing cherry

11. very good but sad they didn’t recognize pony and sodas relationship, also, no full gang scenes???

12. no, no

13. johnny, ralph really captures the kicked puppy look and attitude

14. two and marcia dating😭, cherry and pony becoming best friends, johnny and dally surviving…, pony becoming so much more reserved after their deaths, pony never leaving tulsa (because he cannot leave johnny and dally.), the gang splitting after their deaths.

15.JOHNNY AND PONY WERE EACH OTHERS GIRST KISS. I DONT CARE. , dally secretly loves the ronettes, darry can sing, soda is actually really smart but is a hands on learner, steve and soda aren’t as close as they seem but are just work friends that don’t really have anyone else

16.STEVE AND DALLY. DAREY AND DALLY. ANY OTHER CHARACTER BUT PONY AND JOHNNY WITH DALLY

17. not having a full gang scene, seeing how they live together

18.shipping.. especially things that just would not be happening (tim and dally..)

19. no opinion? (i think it’s REALLY WEIRD that she named tex’s horse bl@ck1e)

20. steve. (always the forgotten of the friend group.)

21. dallys attractive but genuinely a horrible person.

22. steve, marcia.

23.no opinion? haven’t seen it or listened to it yet

24.none

25.want to watch it but haven’t yet

thanks for listening to my ted talk.

Outsiders Asks

Have you read other SE Hinton books

What are your feelings on the book?

Who is your fave character OUTSIDE* of the main 7?

Rank the main 7.

What are your fave ships?

What are some ships you dislike?

What are your fave non-romantic relationships? (This can be close friends, familial, enemies or even just acquaintances)

How did you get into Outsiders?

What’s the favourite scene/moment from the book?

Least favourite scene/moment?

What’s your opinion of the movie?

Have you watched the TV Show? Do you plan to? If you have, what’s your opinion on it?

Who do you think is the most well-written character?

Tell us five of your headcanons you basically see as canon

Five headcanons that are entirely self-indulgent

Which characters would you have liked to see interact?

Are there any criticisms or salt you have with the book?

Are there any criticisms or salt you have with the fandom?

What’s your opinion on SE Hinton?

Which character do you relate to most?

Unpopular opinion/s?

Who’s a minor character in canon who you have basically projected a whole new characterisation onto?

What is your opinion on the upcoming musical so far?

What are your hopes for the musical? What do you not want happening?

Do you plan to watch the musical? Will you get tickets or watch it online?

Reblog if you want to be asked these questions!!

*sorry this wasn’t clear before

[hobbitkiller]

I love Vander, but you cannot talk about VI’s trauma without understanding that a huge part of it comes from his “it’s on you” speech. That one conversation encapsulates VI’s struggle as a character and explains so many of her decisions.

Vi feels the same guilt Jinx does for the deaths of her family, because it was “all on her.” She gets out of prison and discovers her sister is a murderer (gleefully so in the fight against the Firelights where Vi sees her smiling while shooting at them)—that’s on her too. Jinx confirms it during the tea party scene (though I still think that speech gets a bit misinterpreted, including by Vi).

So, we come into the second season and VI’s sister, for whom she feels responsible—the “monster she created”—has blown up the council, which includes the mother of someone Vi cares deeply about/is falling in love with. In VI’s head, she’s still thinking “you don’t get to be selfish. Whatever happens, it’s on you.” So, she has to do whatever she can to keep Jinx from hurting more people. She has blood on her hands (in her mind) for every person Jinx kills.

None of that is “character assassination.” I think people think about Vander’s speech and Vi taking responsibility for Powder from just the perspective of “protect the family,” but it’s so much more complicated than just that. It’s also very much a reflection of Vi fulfilling the classic oldest daughter role. Plenty of oldest siblings are familiar with getting the blame for the younger sibling because “you should have stopped them.”

And so part of her journey as a character is her learning to let go of that feeling because it’s not only bad for her, but it’s a controlling mindset when it comes to Jinx. And we see Vi struggle with this. Her first instinct is to try to go by herself to stop Jinx. Then she tries to convince herself that Jinx isn’t her sister, so she’s not responsible for her—but we can tell she doesn’t really believe it. Then she finally starts to learn to accept Jinx for who she is and treat her more as an equal than her child—hence Jinx’s surprise at being asked her opinion on what they should do.

Do I personally wish we got more focus on Vi? Always. She’s my favorite character. I always want more. But I don’t think she was underwritten, poorly written, or had suffered character assassination. I also don’t think her struggle makes her a bad sister.

And I think it’s so telling for Vi and her trauma that, in the end, she couldn’t let go of Vander. Because she could never let go of him and his expectations for her. And that is both a blessing and a curse for her. It gives her motivation to keep fighting, but weighs her down with responsibility.

People like to argue VI’s trauma is mostly centered around Piltover and enforcers, but, while those aren’t a nonfactor, neither has such a hold on her as that conversation with Vander.

And BTW, me saying all this about VI’s character doesn’t mean I think her entire character is about Jinx. I’m just talking specifically about her trauma. Her story is also about falling in love and what that level of vulnerability can lead to.

[evenyvn]

Full of Love

himeko, welt, pom-pom x gn!reader [platonic]

summary : people always say you're so full of love, especially for the astral express family.

cw : gn!reader, sfw, fluff, found family troupe, reader is a nameless, mention of ptsd, reader have bad past before joining astral express, word vomit tbh.

i really adore astral express family, they're my roman empire. i might write for the trailblazer trio + sunday after this. also fyi i rarely write for platonic relationship so please don't expect me to write more platonic stuff 🙏

masterlist

Many people say that you're a person full of love, especially for the Astral Express family. And you never deny it—because they're not wrong. The Express has been your haven, your safe place, a place you call home.

Before you boarded the Express, life had always been hard on your 'home' planet. In fact, you're not even sure if you could call that hellhole of a place a home. Not once did you feel safe since the day you were born.

But now, that's all in the past. You've healed, you've made peace with yourself and your past, and all you can do is share your love with the other crew members.

Starting with Himeko. The red haired navigator has been your savior—since the day she welcomed you with open arms, guided you out of your darkest times, and became the first person you could truly trust.

Her gentle smile makes your heart flutter with happiness that you couldn't explain. Her presence makes you feel safe. She always stands by your side, supporting your decisions with an open mind.

You're always grateful for her, and you can tell she's grateful for you too.

"You're a blessing that not even an Aeon can give,"

She once said on a night when your body trembled from the weight of nightmares from the past. She held you in her arms, her hands running soothingly along your back as she whispered soft words of comfort. She handled you with pure kindness—never she treats you like you were some kind of a scared animal, but as an equal. She treated you like a human being.

People always say you're full of love for Himeko, and it's true. Every morning, you never failed to brew her a cup of coffee just the way she likes it, even if her preferences were odd, even if you dislike the strong smell of the coffee beans. You do it for her. And every time, she never failed to send you a grateful smile and a few words of praise as she takes a sip. You wouldn't trade the world for the smile she gives you.

You're always full of love for Welt, the man who mysteriously boarded the Express one day. At first, you were skeptical of him. Before he arrived, it had always been just you, Himeko, and Pom-Pom. Your skepticism were justified, and Welt never took offense.

He was patient. He earned your trust slowly but surely.

At night when the nightmares became too much to bear, when sleep felt impossible, you'd wander the halls of the Express. Some nights, you didn't have the heart to wake Himeko, even though you knew she wouldn't mind comforting you like always.

You'd drift through the dimly lit corridors before finding yourself in the Parlor Car. There, you’d often spot Welt, sitting on the red couch in front of one of the tables. He would acknowledge your presence with a small glance before a slight smile pulled at his lips.

"Having trouble sleeping too?"

He never pried, never forced you to talk. He simply welcomed you to sit beside him, allowing you both to exist in silence as you gazed at the endless stars through the glass panels. And so, your little habit began.

Some nights, when neither of you could sleep, you'd sit together in comfortable silence. Other nights, one of you would open up, little by little. Welt would tell you stories of his late home, and in return, you'd share yours. It became a quiet, unspoken secret between the two of you.

People say you're full of love for Welt, and it’s evident in the way you'll sketch countless pictures of his characters from the animations he’s shown you before.

In fact, he's the one who taught you how to draw, sharing his little joys with you as you eagerly followed his lessons. You'll proudly show him your sketches, even when the lines were wobbly and imperfect. But no matter what, he always praises you.

His little smile says it all. He’s proud of you and it's evident in the way he secretly pins your sketches above his monitor. so he can look at them fondly while he animates.

You're full of love for Pom-Pom too.

The fluffy conductor’s constant scolding has become one of your favorite things. It might sound odd, but you find comfort in their slightly agitated voice whenever they reprimand you for forgetting your cleaning duties. Your punishment is always the same—scrubbing down the entire Express for the day.

"Pom-Pom is only doing this because Pom-Pom is worried about you!"

Yet, at the end of the day, when you're exhausted and wiping the sweat off your forehead, you always find a plate of your favorite food waiting for you in your room. When you ask Pom-Pom about it, they avoid eye contact, flustered, before lying and running away.

Everyone on the Express knows the truth—Pom-Pom has a soft spot for you. And you have a soft spot for them too. It's an open secret that you're their favorite passenger, even if they deny it every time.

You will always be full of love for the Astral Express, your family.

And you will never stop giving them your love.

divider by @.adornedwithlight | likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated ♡

[littlestl4mb]

you should make a little blurb about jealous lu!

PS: I love your work you are so cutesie

thank you dear anon!!!! i will put this under the cut because i kinda wrote more than i meant to lol oops

okay so i was thinking about this heavily. at first i thought hmmm luigi doesn’t strike me as the jealous type idk… he’s so intelligent and he’s an engineer so like… you know that mf is as logical and solution-oriented as they come. for better or worse. but then... i thought about it again and i went no YEAH lu definitely gets jealous... i think college lu FOR SURE would. and it drives him mad bc he knows his jealousy is stupid. it’s a foolish feeling, he probably thinks. yet one he can’t shake himself free from. especially when you’re first seeing each other but it’s not completely exclusive yet. when things between you are casual because you’re just getting to know each other?? yeahhhh his brain is going wild 24/7. he can’t stop thinking about you. he can’t stomach the idea of you spending your time with another person that isn’t him. he hates it too because he just knows he’s being too obsessive, that he’s being way too much. he has a lot of self awareness— he knows how to rationalize his heart with his head. but… he can’t stop the compulsive bitterness he feels towards anyone that shows you any sign of affection!!! the hormones just go crazy in that man’s head. he tries to keep a cap on most of his feelings, but when it comes to you it’s nearly impossible. and it only drives him more mad because he’s soooo aware of his jealousy and how futile such a feeling is, but he literally cannot save himself from it. 

he sees you walking down the sidewalk with some guy, and he hates the way his stomach drops. he acknowledges the fact that he has no autonomy over who you see or hang out with, and still he can’t stand it. loathes it. feels so powerless to an emotion that is eating him alive inside and out. the worst part is he kind of knows the guy you’re walking with too. not very well but enough. the kid isn’t even that bad— has exchanged some kind words with luigi before in passing. but all it takes is for the guy to be in the place that luigi has self righteously already claimed as his in his head, and now luigi fucking detests the guy. 

he rants about it to his friends the moment he sees them, “i just don’t fucking get it. the guy has no hobbies. he can’t write. have you seen the books he chooses to read around campus? horrible taste. i don’t see what she sees in him.” — and all his friends are telling him he needs to cool it because it’s out of his control. 

don’t worry though, luigi does not believe in cooling it. in fact, he calls you up on the phone and leaves you a 3 minute long voicemail. he’s not afraid to say how he feels so he lets it all out. he’s telling you how “you’re wasting your time with whatever-his-name-is.” says something like, “does he even do anything? i mean it. does he? at least i started the video game development club.” 

luigi is going OFF in his little voicemail. you listen to the full thing when you’re out of class, generally surprised by how out of the blue it is. the thing is, you didn’t even see luigi earlier when he evidently saw you. he must’ve spotted you and then slipped out of sight immediately.

you have another class to attend to, and not enough time to deal with whatever melt down the man is having. so all you can text him is ‘luigi, he was walking out of class with me and we were talking because we just got put together for a group project.’ it’s the truth too, there wasn’t anything nefarious going on between you two. 

of course, luigi calls you right away. you can’t pick up, but that doesn’t stop him from calling about 5 more times. when he finally sees you later, he probably stands by his word. he’s got too much pride to admit his wrong doing. or the fact that he jumped to conclusions so fast. 

…and then i think once you’re in a proper relationship, the way in which luigi gets jealous shifts. it’s not so much over the simple and stupid stuff. not the silly little things that you get jealous of when you’re young and think you’re the center of the world. when you’re finally exclusive with each other, he has no insecurities that you’re all about him. but … he is a taurus man and every taurus man i’ve ever known is jealous in the most covert way. and in my experience it’s in a very specific way too?? which i would call the “i have to know i’m important in your life” kind of way. 

it’s not so much about being jealous of you hanging out with others. no, in fact he likes that you have your own ways about you and you’re independent. but there’s still a part of him that needs the reassurance that he’s very much important to you. i hope this is making sense. like, he wants to know when you think of him, and he wants you to admit when you’ve missed him. he’d straight up tell you this too. “can you just admit when you think of me? i can’t just know it. i have to hear it in person from you.” 

also, i think he’d have this strange kind of possessive jealousy, where he has to know you through and THROUGH. he has a need to know you as much as humanly possible. he needs to be closer to you than anyone else. he gets jealous and bitter at the thought of others knowing you better than he does.

he’s observant, yes, and knows you that way. but he likes hearing you talk about everything and anything too, so that he can understand you more than anyone else ever has. he needs to know the memory you have of being a little girl and walking down the street, and how the people and buildings were just so tall. something so mundane that you never bothered telling anyone else, he has to have that knowledge like it's a drink of water when he's been walking through the desert for months. and i’m telling you right now— that man wants to know the block you grew up on. he wants to go there by himself and walk down it. he tries to see what you saw as a little girl, wants to see things how you saw them when you were young. thinks that if he does that, he can fathom your thoughts a little better. maybe be able to think your own thoughts himself— that he might know you so well that he becomes a part of you.