#there are so so many good games out there

[theemporium]

[4k] things have been a bit rough since luke accidentally confessed more than he ever intended to. as bye week comes to an end, he is all set to bottle his feelings until he could forget about them. as it turns out, talking about your feelings is far more productive. who would have thought?

series masterlist

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Luke Hughes didn’t like being alone, but it was something he got used to pretty early on in his life. 

Despite the age difference not being massive between him and his brothers, Luke learnt early on that he was the one left behind. His mother would always try to squeeze him in, try to get Quinn and Jack and their friends let Luke join in on the fun. He didn’t even mind going last most of the time, he was just glad he got a shot. 

And the older they got, the more that resonated with everything in their lives—not just street hockey games played before dinner with the neighbourhood kids. Quinn was the first one to go to college, to get drafted, to eventually join the NHL. Jack joined months later, after his own draft, completely foregoing college and jumping straight into the deep end. Both of them went forward, achieving the goals they would always whisper to each other when they were young and hopeful and excited for the future. The goals the three of them shared.

Luke was always the last one to have a shot, to reach the milestone. He was always playing catch up and, whilst it wasn’t his favourite thing, he was used to it. He was good at acting like it didn’t bother him.

Luke might take a little longer to get there, but he always got there eventually. He was always sure of himself. 

That sureness was nowhere to be seen when he woke up the next morning and found the apartment completely empty.

At first, he had just assumed you had woken up before him, that maybe you were in the bathroom or in the kitchen or lounging out on the couch. But the eerie silence in the apartment made him second guess himself, made him sit up in his bed and let the sheets pool by his waist as he tried to blink the sleep away from his eyes.

The first time he went around the apartment, he thought he was still dreaming. The second time made him notice that all the little knick-knacks you had left around were gone—your lip balm on the coffee table, your phone charger in the kitchen, your headphones on the counter. The third time was when he truly accepted that you had left, with no note or message or proper goodbye. 

The worst part was that he remembered why as he stumbled through the different rooms, trying to see, on the off chance, if you had just moved your bags from his room. He remembered what he had said, the words he had whispered to you. He remembered and he felt the shame pool in the pit of his stomach, but he still didn’t understand. 

He felt like a child again, aimlessly running and trying to play catch up, except this time he didn’t really know where he was going or what he was trying to catch up to.

It was downright stupid of him to blurt those words out, to throw that confession at you after everything the two of you had done whilst he was half asleep and still reeling in the post-orgasm haze. It wasn’t fair for him to say that to you with no real build up or follow up. 

But it still fucking stung that you ran off. 

It stung that you didn’t try to wake him up and make him explain himself. It stung that you didn’t stay the night and try to at least let him down easily in the morning. It stung that you ran and didn’t look back, not even bothering with a note or any sort of message. 

It stung that Luke had been up for less than an hour and had already messaged and called so many times, just to get absolutely nothing in response. If it weren’t for the fact he could see the messages going through, he would have honestly assumed you had blocked his number. 

Luke Hughes didn’t like being alone and, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t even fucking sure how to hide it.

Maybe it was pathetic to admit—even to himself—but he really was waiting for the whole thing to be a joke. He pinched himself as he managed to scavenge the fridge for breakfast. He pinched himself after he spent far too long in the shower, until his skin was red and hot at the touch. He pinched himself as he sat on the couch, staring aimlessly at whatever sitcom rerun was currently playing. 

He waited for himself to wake up from this twisted dream. He waited for you to message with some sort of explanation, some sort of emergency that forced you to leave. He waited for you to come back, to walk back through the front door and slump into the spot next to him like this was your place too—like you had been acting for the last few days. 

He waited and waited and waited, but nothing ever really changed.

Luke had faced heartbreak before. He was an athlete, there wasn’t a time in his life where he hadn’t faced disappointment, whether it was on the ice with a loss or off the ice with an injury. He knew the feeling well, it was almost like an old friend. 

But this kind of heartbreak was different. 

This kind of heartbreak made him want to curl into himself until everything was magically better. He didn’t like the constant twist in his stomach. He didn’t like the way his head snapped around at every buzz or ping from his phone. He didn’t like the way he felt like a hermit, felt as though he needed to stay until you came back home—to him.

As an athlete, he was used to the negative feelings that would quickly fade and be replaced with determination and pure driven grit to move on, to do better, to win. 

This time, Luke didn’t think he could do that. He didn’t know what he could do. He didn’t know who he could go to. He didn’t even know if he wanted to go to anyone. 

Both brothers were in Toronto, running around with countless media duties and appearances for All-Stars. His friends back in Michigan are all busy with classes and assignments and their hockey season. His teammates are all sprawled on sunny beaches with their phones turned off and their glasses always full. He didn’t even want to imagine having a conversation with his parents right now, to try even explaining everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. 

Luke Hughes was alone and he didn’t know what the fuck to do with himself. 

And it was only the hardwired brain of an athlete that had him getting up, eating and working out every day. It made him feel like a robot, listening to the demands of his body that had been programmed into him since he was a child. He didn’t need to think, just did. His whole body just moved on autopilot. 

The days passed, his phone’s notifications remained empty and Luke Hughes tried to accept the fact that he had truly fucked up one of the best things that had happened to him this season. 

And he had to do it alone.

…

It had been arranged and agreed with the Devils management that Luke and Jack were allowed to fly out to Vancouver earlier than the rest of the team. It was their first game back after the All-Stars break and it made sense for them to monopolise the few days they had before their season continued. 

At the start of the season, Luke was buzzed at the prospect of spending more time with his oldest brother during the season, which they would never usually get to have. Now, it was almost the complete opposite. 

It wasn’t like he wasn’t excited to spend extra time with Quinn, but more so that he wasn’t ready for both brothers to see right through him. 

Because Luke would be a fool to assume his brothers—his bestest fucking friends in the world—wouldn’t pick up on his mood instantly. And that is only if the less-than-enthusiastic responses in the groupchat over the last week or so didn’t give him away first.

Much to his surprise, Quinn and Jack had managed to hold off until the second night before they finally questioned him—which was almost two whole days longer than he really expected. 

Small victories, he guessed. 

“So, are we going to talk about it?” 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to avoid the topic for as long as he could.

“Talk about what?” He questioned, feigning ignorance as he kept his eyes glued on the random movie that was playing on the tv. He didn’t even remember what Jack picked or what it was about, but suddenly the random A-list actors were far more interesting than the pointed looks he could feel his brothers giving him.

“Luke,” Quinn said in that tone of voice, the same tone their parents used to use on the both of them when they didn’t give Luke a shot at whatever they were doing. 

He let out a small sigh, resisting the urge to visibly recoil. “It’s nothing.” 

“It’s something,” Jack corrected. “You’ve been acting wack for the last week.”

Luke stayed silent.

The silence continued to linger before Quinn spoke up, his voice much softer this time. “You know you can tell us anything, right? We’re your brothers. We’re here for you. We are worried, we just want to help.” 

And the funny thing was that no matter how much Luke wanted to keep his mouth shut, no matter how much he wanted to pretend the last week wasn’t the absolute worst with no one to talk to and no one to confide in, he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t because, no matter what, his brothers would always be his soft spot, the only people on this damn planet that could break through his own stubborn wall he has tried to put up with everyone else since that night.

“I’ve fucked up,” Luke blurted out before he could stop himself, finally turning his head away from the tv screen so he could look at both of his older brothers. 

Quinn’s face remained blank and untelling, just looking at Luke as though he could read every damn thought in his head with that intense, haunted glare of his. Jack, on the other hand, had a more visible reaction as his eyes widened, the concern and alarm written all over his face.

“Okay,” Quinn said slowly. “Have you broken any laws?” 

“I—” Luke paused, frowning a little. “No.” 

“Have you knocked someone up?” 

“No?” Luke answered, the confusion in his voice making it sound more like a question. 

“Then it’s something we can fix together,” Quinn stated, like it was obvious. 

“Wait, fucking roll back,” Luke straightened in his seat, giving his eldest brother a look. “I tell you I fuck up and that’s the first two questions you ask me?” 

“I wanted to know what we were working with,” Quinn said with a shrug. “If you commited a crime, there’s only so much we can do. If you got a girl pregnant, that’s between you two. Everything else though? We can fix it.”

Luke resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Hit us with it,” Jack challenged, looking oddly serious for once. “We can handle it.”

Luke sighed, his chest tightening uncomfortably as he tried to figure out how to word the last week he had. 

Then, in a timid voice, Jack asked, “is it to do with Cherry?” 

Something in Luke’s expression must have answered the question for him because Jack continued. 

“Did you two break up?” 

“I don’t know,” Luke answered honestly. “I don’t even know if we were even together to break up.” 

“Oh,” was all Jack managed to say in response. 

“Tell us what happened, it can’t be that bad,” Quinn spoke up, trying to reassure his youngest brother but it just felt a little patronising instead. 

“You don’t get it,” Luke said helplessly.

“So help us get it,” Quinn retorted.

“I fucked up!” Luke’s voice was louder this time, louder than he intended and loud enough to make both brothers freeze a little. “I fucked it all up and I can’t fix it, okay? No one can fix it.” 

“Bud,” Jack murmured softly. 

“I fucked it,” Luke’s voice cracked a little. After a few moments of silence, he let his eyes close as he muttered out his confession. “I told her I loved her. Or, like, I was falling in love with her.” 

There was a small pause before Jack spoke. “That’s not…that bad.”

“It was just after we slept together,” Luke added. 

“Oh.” 

Quinn cleared his throat, catching Luke’s attention enough for him to slowly blink his eyes open again. “So the timing wasn’t ideal, but it could have been worse. I assume from your moping that she didn’t feel the same way?” 

“I—” Luke frowned a little. “I don’t know. Probably not. I fell asleep after I said it and she was gone the next morning.” 

“Yikes,” Jack muttered under his breath. He winced when Quinn sharply elbowed him.

“It could still be worse—” Quinn started, sounding more like a reassuring captain after a bad period than a brother. 

“It really couldn’t.” 

Quinn sighed, almost sounding patronising again even if he didn’t intend to. Even if he didn’t realise it. “Luke, it’s shit but it’s not the end of the world that you kinda confessed your feelings to a girl after you slept with her.”

It irked something in Luke. It made him act before thinking, blurting out the words before he could take them back.

“It was the first time we slept together.” 

Jack frowned. “Really? But you’ve been seeing her for months.” 

Quinn nodded. “Okay, that makes it a bit more awkward—”

“No, like, that was the first time we ever had sex. That was the first time I ever had sex,” Luke said, his stomach twisting and churning as he finally confessed the secret he swore he was going to take to the grave with him.

“With her?” 

“With anyone.”

Quinn blinked. 

The silence felt suffocating for the few seconds he stared back at his brothers before one of them finally broke it. 

“So you’re telling me,” Jack began. “That I could have been making virgin jokes this whole time and now I’ve missed my chance?” 

Luke opened his mouth to reply but couldn’t find the words to reply.

“Dude,” Quinn sighed.

“What?!” Jack glared, shifting away before Quinn and his pointy elbows could jab him again. “You were thinking the same!” 

“I really wasn’t,” Quinn retorted.

Jack shot him a look.

Quinn sighed. “Okay, I was thinking it a little—” 

“Ha!” 

Luke stared helplessly at his older brothers, watching them bicker back and forth until his brain finally caught up. 

“I can’t believe we missed out on so many good jokes,” Jack said, almost sounding wistful before he turned to finally look at Luke. He froze for a moment before flashing him a sheepish smile. “In a good way, obviously. Like good jokes in a good way.” 

“Uh huh,” Luke deadpanned. 

“Quinn said he wanted to make jokes too!” Jack retorted.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you guys,” Luke grumbled, feeling the heat burn his cheeks and creep down his neck. He didn’t even want to think about how red his face was right now.

“Hey, it doesn’t mean shit to us. We’d make fun of it the same way we make fun of Jack’s lack of fashion and inability to wear anything but Air Forces,” Quinn assured him. 

“Pot meet kettle,” Jack scoffed. 

“The point is that we don’t care about the fact that you were apparently a virgin until a week ago,” Quinn continued, ignoring the way Jack was currently pouting beside him. “What we care about is the fact you’ve been moping over this girl.” 

“She’s just—” Luke paused, cutting himself off before he let out a sigh. “She gets me, you know?” 

“I’ve seen them talking on the phone, it’s nauseating,” Jack confirmed, nodding his head. “Luke is teaching her to cook.”

Quinn’s nose scrunched. “Luke can cook?” 

“That’s what I said!” 

“Just because I don’t cook for you dipshits doesn’t mean I can’t cook,” Luke pointed out, rolling his eyes at how affronted both boys seemed by the revelation. “The point is that I fucked up things with her and I have no one else to blame but myself.” 

Jack frowned. “Luke—”

“Can we just drop it?” Luke interrupted, snapping a little. “I have spent the last week thinking about it, I’d rather not spend anymore time.” He paused for a short moment before continuing. “Please.” 

Quinn gave him a long look before eventually nodding. “Alright. We’ll drop it.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “But—”

“We’ll drop it because that is what Luke wants,” Quinn stated, staring pointedly at Jack until he sighed and nodded. 

“Okay. We’ll drop it.” 

“Thank you,” Luke murmured, the words laying thick in his throat as he shifted in his spot on the couch before turning back towards the tv screen. “Since when did this chick get powers?” 

Jack let out a noise of complaint. “Don’t even get me started, she has done nothing but whine—” 

…

The game against Vancouver was…certainly a game.

It wasn’t the worst game he had ever played but it was far from his best. But the worst part was that Luke knew no one would have really cared if it was any other game during the season. However, the fact it was against Quinn’s team meant all eyes were on all the Hughes brothers, and he knew his performance was going to be questioned and picked at in the post-game interviews. He also knew there was no chance he nor his brothers would be able to skip media either. 

Luke felt drained by the time the journalists left the locker room, still dressed in most of his gear as he leaned back in the cubicle and let out a heavy sigh. Their plane to Edmonton didn’t leave until tomorrow morning and he already knew his parents would be waiting outside for whatever dinner reservations had been booked. 

But in all honesty, Luke could think of a million other things he wanted to do right now rather than get undressed, shower and change back into his game day suit to sit through a dinner with his parents where he would constantly be on edge about them bringing you up into conversation. They had done it every other time he was on the phone with them since the last Hughesbowl. 

Luke just wanted a few moments where he wasn’t thinking about you or hockey or anything. He just wanted his brain to shut off. 

He hadn’t even noticed someone sitting beside him until their knee nudged his, and even then he kept his eyes closed as he let out a sigh. “I told you Quinn was gonna bitch about reservation times if you let him be in charge of dinner.” 

“I think reservation times are a fair thing to bitch about.” 

Luke’s eyes snapped open, his head turning to find Nico sitting in the spot he suspected Jack to be in. “Oh.”

Nico gave him a soft smile. “Got a few minutes?” 

He swallowed before nodding. “Yeah, of course. Jack can handle Quinn’s bitchiness.” 

Nico’s smile widened a little before he took a deep breath. “Just wanted to check up on you. You’ve seemed down since Bye Week.” 

Luke raised his brows. “It’s been a day since you came back from your holiday.”

“And a day is more than enough time for me to realise something is up with you,” Nico retorted with a knowing look. But when Luke didn’t respond instantly, Nico’s face softened as he lowered his voice so that any lingering guys in the locker room wouldn’t hear. “Look, I was serious about what I said at the start of the season. This is your team too. And I am just as much your captain as I am your brother’s. I care about my team, Luke, and you’re a part of that team.” 

Luke flashed him a small but grateful smile.

“I know you stayed in New Jersey for the break so I don’t know if something happened or if you even want to talk about it,” Nico continued. “But I want you to know I’m here if you wanna talk. I know you have Jack but sometimes you need someone else to confide in. A friend, not a family member.” 

“It’s stupid,” Luke said, wincing a little before he quickly continued talking. “But it won’t affect my hockey, promise. Today was just a fluke, just a little rusty after the break. I’ll be all good for Edmonton.”

Nico frowned, a crease forming between his brows. “It’s not your hockey I’m worried about, Luke. We all have our bad days. It’s your well-being and happiness. You seem…kinda sad since we got back.” 

Luke’s gaze instantly shifted to the random ball of tape on the floor between his feet instead of his captain.

“Is it something related to the team?”

Luke shook his head.

“Jack?” 

Luke shook his head again.

“Something in your family?” 

He shook his head a third time.

“Relationship stuff?” 

The small pause before Luke could even react told Nico everything he needed to know. Nico gave his knee another nudge until he finally looked back up at his captain.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Nico reassured him, a kind and comforting smile on his face. “But relationships are tough as they are, whether they are platonic or romantic. It gets harder when you’re in the league. A lot of lines get blurred and intentions can be clouded, but the good ones matter that much more when you find them.” 

Luke pressed his lips together.

“You’re in your rookie year. You are the youngest brother in a hockey family dynasty. You have a fuck load of pressure on your shoulders,” Nico listed off like they were facts—and they were. “I know what my rookie year was like. And I was here for Jack’s rookie year. It’s fucking hard. But you’ve been handling it well, you haven’t let hockey become your everything and that’s better than most people can say, even with years under their belt in the league.”

“What are you trying to say?” Luke eventually asked, his lips turned downwards. 

“I’m saying that it’s clear there’s something outside of hockey that you care about. And I’m saying don’t let hockey or anything else get in the way of it if you genuinely think it’s worth it. Each one of us could lose hockey tomorrow and there’s nothing we can do to change that. But having people by your side makes it easier, having people who want you for you and not hockey is even better.”

Luke swallowed harshly. “And if I fucked my chances of having that?”

Nico smiled. “You’re not that much younger than me and I know it sounds patronising for me to say this, but I promise you things aren’t as fucked as you think they are.”

Luke opened his mouth to disagree but Nico beat him to it.

“Trust me,” Nico said, grinning a little as he gave Luke a more playful shove. “Plus, you’re an athlete. You should know better than anyone else that it’s not worth the win unless you really worked for it.”

Luke snorted. “Funny.”

“I try,” Nico grinned. “And even if you really did fuck up, there are other people out there who like you for you, Luke. It may not seem like it and you might not even want someone else right now, but they are there and they exist.”

Luke's expression softened. “You’re a good captain.”

Nico flushed a little but nodded. “Having a good team makes it easy.” 

Luke scoffed. “Dude, take the compliment.”

“I am just saying—”

“Oh my god, how do you even deal with Jack praising you all the time? Wait, please don’t answer that! I don’t want details!” 

Nico just cackled in response. 

…

hockey boy: i know you have been ignoring my other texts but we really need to talk 

hockey boy: please cherry 

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[lynbels]

25 jungwon pls pls pls

looks deceive - yjw (m)

#25: The quiet nerd turns out to be anything but shy, using your body like it’s his.

pairing: jungwon x reader - prompt req list

synopsis: You spent months teasing Jungwon for being the quiet nerd in class—until one night he finally snapped, and you learned exactly how wrong you were about him. ✉️ 3782wc

‼️tw: slight bullying, dubcon vibes, dominance, manhandling, degradation (light), oral (m receiving), rough sex, creampie, praise, possessiveness, spanking, slight hair pulling, unprotected sex (wrap ur willies guys)

💌: no because I totally imagine this happening good jungwon by day evil jungwon by night 😈

You weren’t a mean girl, not really. Just…a little playful. Maybe a little too playful when it came to the nerdy boy who sat in the back of your Chemistry class.

Yang Jungwon.

Blonde hair always perfectly parted, button-down shirts always ironed stiff, and those stupid little glasses perched on the bridge of his nose—he was practically begging for it. He didn’t even talk back when you and your friends joked about him. He just sat there, quietly scribbling formulas with that pretty hand of his, pretending not to hear the way you laughed.

“You think he’s a robot or something?” your friend Hana giggled one afternoon, chin propped on her hand as she watched Jungwon flip through his notes. “Bet he’s never even held a girl’s hand.”

You snickered behind your palm. “Held? I bet he’d pass out if a girl even looked at him for too long.”

It wasn’t personal. It was harmless, you told yourself. Jungwon was just…so easy to tease. Always so quiet, so polite, so desperately nerdy. He wore khaki pants for god’s sake. Khakis. In high school.

Sometimes you’d catch him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking—soft, wide-eyed stares, like he couldn’t believe you were real. It only made it funnier. You’d smile sweetly at him on purpose, wave too enthusiastically, lean a little too close when asking him a question during group projects, just to watch his face flush scarlet and his glasses fog up.

The poor boy was so easy to break.

And you weren’t the only one who noticed. Your whole group kind of adopted it as a game at this point: how fast could you fluster Jungwon? How pink could you get his cheeks? How many stuttered responses could you collect like trophies?

“He’s like…a pet,” your other friend Minji whispered one time after a pop quiz. You had just tapped Jungwon’s shoulder and thanked him (loudly) for “helping you study”—which he hadn’t—and the boy had practically short-circuited on the spot. “Like a little lost puppy.”

You’d laughed then, flipping your hair over your shoulder, feeling every bit the queen bee you were supposed to be. Jungwon was safe. Harmless. He wasn’t like the cocky jocks or the bad boys you flirted with sometimes—he was soft, easy to control, easy to tease.

Or at least…that’s what you thought.

Until one afternoon, everything changed.

You were sitting at your desk, lazily twirling a pen between your fingers, when you felt a shadow fall across your table. You looked up, blinking.

It was Jungwon.

He stood stiffly in front of you, clutching a neatly organized folder to his chest like a shield. His blonde hair was slightly messy today, a few strands falling across his forehead. His glasses slipped down his nose a little, and he pushed them up nervously with one finger.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Lost, Jungwon?”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something—but then stopped, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow. His hands fidgeted against the folder, knuckles white from how tightly he gripped it. You could see the tips of his ears turning red.

Cute.

“I, uh…” He coughed lightly, adjusting his glasses again. “I…thought you might need help. For the chemistry assignment. Since…you asked…before.”

You blinked.

You hadn’t actually asked him for help—you’d teased him about it, sure, but it was all in good fun. You were popular, and smart enough to get by without tutoring from the class nerd. But now, standing there in front of you, Jungwon looked so serious. So determined, despite how nervous he clearly was.

You could feel Minji and Hana watching from across the room, barely containing their laughter. You gave them a quick glance—watch this—before turning back to Jungwon with your most dazzling smile.

“That’s sweet, Jungwon,” you said, voice dripping honey. “You’re worried about me?”

He flushed deeper, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I just…you seemed like you might…um…need help.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh. God, he was so easy.

Leaning forward on your elbows, you rested your chin in your hand and looked up at him through your lashes. “Are you offering to be my private tutor?”

His lips parted slightly, like the words got stuck in his throat. His glasses fogged a little again. “I—uh—I guess. If you want.”You smiled wider, loving the way his voice shook.

“Aw,” you cooed mockingly, loud enough for your friends to hear. “You’re so sweet, Jungwon. Are you always this nice to girls who bully you?”

Behind you, Hana snickered into her hand.

For a moment, Jungwon didn’t say anything. He just stood there, folder clutched tight to his chest, face burning. His eyes flickered to your mouth for a second—so quick you almost missed it—and then dropped to the floor again.

You tilted your head, smirking. So predictable.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” you added, voice low enough that only he could hear it. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll let you buy me coffee after tutoring too.”

He said nothing. Just nodded stiffly, turned on his heel, and practically fled to the other side of the room.

You and your friends broke into giggles immediately.

“Poor thing’s gonna have a heart attack,” Minji whispered, wiping a tear from her eye. “Y/N, you’re evil.”

You smiled lazily, twirling your pen again. It was just harmless fun. Jungwon would never do anything about it. He was too shy, too sweet.

He’d stay quiet. Like he always did.

…Right?

You didn’t think about it much when you got the text later that day.

[unknown number]: you forgot your textbook. rm 3b.

[unknown number]: i can bring it if u want.

You stared at the messages, confused for a second—until you realized it had to be Jungwon. Of course it was. Who else would be that polite about a stupid forgotten book?

You texted back a half-hearted ok, already smirking to yourself. God, he’s desperate, you thought. He was really going out of his way for you now. It was almost pathetic.

You made your way to Room 3B after the last bell, the hallway practically deserted. Most people had already left for the day, leaving only the low hum of distant footsteps and the occasional squeak of sneakers on tile.

When you pushed open the door, the room was dim, the late afternoon sun spilling in long, golden streaks across the floor.

And there he was.

Jungwon stood by your desk, your chemistry textbook in hand, head bowed slightly. His blonde hair caught the light, making it look almost soft around the edges. He wasn’t wearing his blazer anymore—just the white button-up, the sleeves pushed up a little—and it made him look…different. More casual. More real.

You stepped inside lazily, the door clicking shut behind you.

“Wow,” you teased lightly, crossing your arms. “You really take your job as my tutor seriously, huh?”

He didn’t laugh.

Didn’t even smile.

He just looked up at you—and for the first time, you noticed something different in his eyes. Something that made your skin prickle a little.

He wasn’t nervous.

Not anymore.

“You forgot this,” he said simply, voice low and even.

You walked closer, letting your bag slide off your shoulder onto a chair. “Thanks, Professor Jungwon,” you joked, reaching for the book.

But instead of handing it to you, he held onto it—just out of reach.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

For a second, he just looked at you, head tilted slightly like he was studying something.

Then he smiled.

Not the shy, awkward smile you were used to.

No, this one was slower. Lazier. A smile that knew things. Dangerous things.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he said, voice still light but edged with something sharper underneath. “Messing with me. Laughing at me with your little friends.”

You blinked, heart skipping once, confused. This wasn’t…this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“I mean…” you said slowly, trying to summon that same teasing tone. “Maybe a little?”

Jungwon stepped closer.

You instinctively backed up—only to feel the desk press against the backs of your thighs.

You opened your mouth to say something else—to crack another joke, maybe, to turn the moment back into something safe—but before you could, he set the textbook down carefully on the desk beside you.

And caged you in with both hands, palms flat against the wood.

You stared up at him, breath caught.

His eyes, usually so soft, were burning now. Sharp and focused, like he was seeing right through you. His body was so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, suffocating, dizzying.

“You think you can just say whatever you want to me,” he said softly, so close you could feel his breath fan across your lips. “Laugh at me. Flirt with me. Make me look like a fool.”

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body standing on end.

“I—It was just a joke,” you said quickly, but your voice wavered.

Another slow, dangerous smile.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “Well, here’s the thing, Y/N.”

He leaned down, mouth brushing your ear.

“I’m done being the joke.”

You froze, your whole body tensing, but Jungwon didn’t give you any time to think.

One hand slid from the desk to your waist, fingers digging in just hard enough to make you gasp. He pressed his body closer, chest against yours, so you could feel just how much bigger and stronger he really was.

“You’re so loud usually,” he whispered, voice smooth and dark against your ear. “Where’s all that attitude now, huh?”

You squirmed, but it only made him grip you tighter, pinning your hips against the desk.

“You thought you were in control,” he murmured, dragging the tip of his nose down the side of your throat, inhaling like he could smell your fear. “Laughing with your friends. Acting like you were better than me.”

You whimpered—quiet and unintentional—and he chuckled low in his chest.

“Not so funny now, is it?”

Slowly, torturously slow, he trailed his hand up your side, brushing under the hem of your shirt, fingertips feather-light against your bare skin. Your breath hitched, and he smiled against your neck.

“You like this,” he said quietly, almost like he was marveling at the realization. “You like when I’m mean to you.”

You shook your head automatically, but Jungwon just laughed again, dark and soft.

“Liar.”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes were molten now, dark and hungry, and you shivered under the weight of his stare.

“I should make you beg,” he whispered, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Make you apologize for being such a little brat.”

Your lips parted, desperate to say something—anything—but no words came out.

“You gonna be good for me now?” he asked, almost gently, dragging his thumb slowly across your bottom lip. “Or do I have to teach you a lesson?

You whimpered again, nodding weakly.

His smile widened, all sharp teeth and dangerous promise.

“Good girl.”

Without warning, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up onto the desk, spreading your legs with his knees. The sudden movement made you squeak, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance, but he didn’t let you go—he loomed over you, hands gripping your waist possessively, like he owned you.

“Show me,” Jungwon said, voice so soft it barely made a sound. “Get on your knees.”

You blinked up at him, heart racing, and whispered back without thinking, “W-What?”

He just stared down at you, unblinking, fingers tightening at your waist like a warning.

“On your knees,” he repeated, firmer now, and when you hesitated for half a second longer, he grabbed your chin and guided you down slowly, almost gentle, until your knees hit the floor with a quiet thud against the carpet.

“Jungwon…” you whispered again, voice small, but he didn’t budge.

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Pretty,” he murmured. “So pretty when you’re quiet.”

You bit your lip, cheeks burning, and breathed out shakily, “I-I don’t know what you want me to do…”

A small, dangerous smile played on his lips. “You’ll figure it out.”

With slow, deliberate movements, he unbuckled his belt, the soft clink making your stomach twist in anticipation. You couldn’t look away—couldn’t even think—your mouth already watering slightly as he tugged his jeans down just enough, freeing his cock, hard and thick and leaking at the tip.

You whimpered, staring, and your thighs instinctively pressed together.

“You want it, don’t you?” he whispered, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

You nodded frantically, voice barely a breath. “Y-Yeah… I want it.”

“Then open up,” he ordered, and his voice was so calm it made your whole body shudder.

You parted your lips obediently, heart thundering, and he slid the tip against your tongue, teasing you slowly, making you feel every inch.

“Good girl,” he praised in a low growl. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

You whimpered again, looking up at him through your lashes, desperate to make him proud, desperate for him to keep saying those things to you.

“You’re so good, Jungwon,” you whispered around him, voice muffled and needy.

A dark flush colored his cheeks at your praise, but he didn’t let up, sliding deeper with slow, shallow thrusts, one hand threading into your hair to hold you there.

“That’s it,” he murmured, hips rocking slowly. “Such a good little mouth… made for me.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes from the stretch, but you forced yourself to stay still, to let him use you like he wanted. You wanted it. You wanted him.

“You look so good like this,” he breathed. “Bet you never thought you’d end up on your knees for me, huh?”

You whined around him, the humiliation and heat rushing through your body too much to handle.

“Didn’t know you’d be so mean,” you managed to mumble out when he pulled back a little, your voice wrecked and breathless.

He chuckled lowly, thumb brushing away a tear that slid down your cheek.

“You have no idea what I’m capable of, baby,” he whispered.

You nodded, so desperate, so wrecked already. “Please…” you whimpered. “Please, Jungwon… I want you…”

His jaw flexed, his control visibly snapping.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hips jerking forward as he pushed deeper into your mouth, making you choke slightly.

You pulled back with a gasp, panting, and he immediately stroked your hair gently, calming you.

“Shh. You’re doing so good, pretty girl,” he praised. “You’re perfect.”

You looked up at him, tears in your lashes, spit glistening on your lips.

“I want to be good for you,” you said, voice wobbling.

“You already are,” he whispered, dragging his cock slowly across your tongue again.

You shivered, feeling your whole body light up at his words.

He tightened his grip in your hair, sliding himself back into your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts, using you like he had every right to.

And you let him. Whimpering, obeying, looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

Because he owned you now. And you didn’t want it any other way.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Jungwon yanked you up from the floor, strong hands gripping your waist and shoving you back against the couch. His body pressed flush against yours, caging you in.

“You’re not done,” he muttered, voice low and dark in your ear. “I’m not done.”

You whimpered, nodding without even thinking, your thighs squeezing together at the way he looked at you — like he was starving and you were the only thing he could eat.

He grabbed your chin roughly, tilting your head up so you couldn’t look away from him. His eyes, usually so soft and sunny, were blown wide and black with hunger.

“Look at you,” he whispered, breath hot against your cheek. “Already fucked out and I haven’t even gotten started.”

You tried to say something—tried to beg—but he didn’t give you the chance. In one swift movement, he manhandled you onto the couch, forcing you onto your back, and tugged your panties down your legs without ceremony.

“Spread those legs for me, pretty,” he murmured, voice steady but ragged with want.

You did, shakily, heart pounding so hard you could barely breathe.

He tugged his jeans down just enough, cock hard and leaking, and lined himself up without warning. You felt the blunt, thick head of him pressing against your entrance, and your breath caught.

“You ready?” he rasped.

You nodded desperately, nails digging into the cushions.

“Use your words,” he ordered, tapping the inside of your thigh sharply.

“Please,” you gasped out. “Please, Jungwon, I want it—need it—”

That was all he needed.

He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt, and you screamed — high-pitched and choked, the stretch overwhelming. Your whole body arched off the couch at the sudden, merciless intrusion.

“Fuck, so tight,” he hissed through gritted teeth, holding himself still for a second, letting you feel every inch of him. “Feels too good. Gonna fuck you so stupid, baby.”

You sobbed, legs trembling around his hips, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled out halfway and slammed back in hard enough to make the couch creak beneath you. Again. Again. Hard and deep and punishing, every thrust knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“You wanted to tease me?” he grunted, voice still soft and deadly in your ear. “Wanted to be a brat in front of your little friends?”

You nodded frantically, whimpering, barely coherent under the relentless pace.

“Bet you don’t feel so cocky now, huh?” he whispered, punctuating every word with another deep thrust.

You tried to answer but all that came out was a broken moan.

He chuckled low under his breath, slowing down just enough to drag himself out painfully slow before slamming back in to the hilt, making you cry out.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he licked a tear off your cheek and murmured, “Poor thing. Too much?”

You shook your head wildly, clinging to him.

He kept going until your whole body was trembling, until your nails carved angry red lines down his back, until you were sobbing his name like it was the only word you knew.

Finally, when your legs gave out completely and you sagged into the cushions, he slowed. His hands gentled, cradling you.

Wordlessly, he pulled you into his lap, your thighs straddling his hips. His cock still heavy and hard between your legs, pressed against your soaked folds.

He cupped your face in both hands, smoothing your hair back, and kissed you so softly it almost hurt. You whimpered into his mouth, desperate for him.

“You still want it?” he whispered against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathed, voice wrecked and trembling. “Please.”

He guided you down onto him slowly this time, letting you feel every thick inch stretch you open again.

You gasped, clinging to his shoulders, tears brimming in your lashes again from the slow, aching fullness.

“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Take all of it. You’re doing so good.”

He rocked you on his cock gently, holding you close, whispering filthy things in your ear the whole time.

“Feel how deep I am, baby? You were made for this… made for me to fuck you like this.”

You whimpered, biting his shoulder to muffle your sobs of pleasure as he guided your hips, slow and deep and overwhelming.

“Never teasing me again,” he whispered, smiling against your hair. “Not unless you want this.”

You nodded desperately, grinding down against him, so full you could barely think.

“You’re mine to fuck,” he murmured, dragging his cock against that sensitive spot inside you, making you jolt in his lap. “Mine to ruin.”

You came apart in his arms, sobbing his name into his shoulder, shaking and gasping. He held you through it, never stopping, whispering praise into your ear until you completely fell apart.

And when he finally followed, spilling deep inside you with a low groan, he didn’t move away.

He just held you, rocking you gently in his lap, brushing kisses across your temple, your jaw, your mouth.

Like he hadn’t just broken you completely.

Like he was never gonna let you go.

The next morning, you could still feel it — a dull, delicious ache between your thighs with every step you took. Your body was sore, your neck littered with faint bruises you tried—and failed—to cover with makeup, and your heart raced every time you even thought about Jungwon.

Which was a problem. Because you were sitting across from him in class, and he kept sneaking little glances at you from behind his glasses, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips whenever your eyes met.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, clenching your thighs together under the desk, cheeks burning.

“What’s up with you?” one of your friends whispered, elbowing you in the side during lecture.

“Huh? N-nothing,” you stammered, staring down at your notes so hard the lines blurred together.

Another girl leaned over. “Why do you look like you just ran a marathon?”

“I don’t,” you protested weakly, adjusting your jacket to hide the faint purple marks blooming down your throat.

They weren’t convinced.

“You’re acting weird,” the first girl said, wrinkling her nose. “Like…all shy and jumpy. Did something happen?”

“No,” you said too quickly, glancing instinctively at Jungwon.

You caught him looking again — but this time, he didn’t look away. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, slow and deliberate, and your stomach flipped.

Oh god.

Your friends caught that look.

They turned, following your gaze, and their jaws dropped.

“Wait. No freaking way,” one of them whispered, half-laughing. “You’re into him?!”

“I—” You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

The other girl snorted. “Since when do you like nerds?”

You shrank into your seat, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. Especially when Jungwon leaned back in his chair casually, spreading his thighs just a little wider under the desk — like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your throat.

“Bet he’s not that nerdy when he’s alone with her,” one of your friends joked under her breath, laughing.

Your face flamed.

And across the room, Jungwon smiled lazily at you, like a wolf who knew his prey wasn’t going anywhere.

prompt request list

[justevelynnnn]

Mark talking you through it

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!reader

Summary: Mark takes your virginity and talks you through it

Warnings: Smut smutty smut, dirty talk, reader is afab, virginity loss, some profanity

A/N: i have so many ideas and things in the works but so little time 😭 also it’s exam season…but i have a duty to keep y’all fed so enjoy this crumb for now (sorry it’s short!)

You had never done anything like this before.

All the sensations and touches and feelings were new to you. A lot of it felt amazing.. his hands, big and calloused from fighting, were gentle on your bare skin. He was very attentive to how you reacted to everything.

It was after a homecoming game.

He’d forced the guardians to cover for him if anything came up and decided to spend the night with you. It was great especially given that you could finally spend time with him. You didn’t care what you two did. Sometimes you guys binged a show, other times it was a simple walk around campus or a park…

As long as you got to be with him.

However, this particular night after the game you two ended up making out and naked on his bed. It wasn’t big, just a twin xl like all the other dorms, but it was enough for you both. A bed’s a bed after all. He was experienced, at least from what you could tell. He didn’t seem too nervous or shy even.

He moved with confidence, but still asking for consent with everything before he actually did it. It was a bit cute but you truly admired that about him.

Everything was going great until you really looked at him…down there, and something in your head made you freak out.

He was actually kind of big, at least bigger than you expected, and that thick vein running up the side wasn’t helping calm your nerves either.

“Will that even fit?”, You whispered looking down. You looked into his eyes a bit worried. Your legs also close, but you did that unconsciously.

“I’ll go slow..��� He kissed you gently, looking back into your eyes with a soft expression and a hand caressing your cheek. “And we can stop if it gets to be too much. Promise.”

You just nod and wrapped your arms around his neck as he positioned himself between your legs. You knew he was strong but sometimes you forgot exactly how strong. It wasn’t big something about the way he pushed your legs open and how a hand held your hip in place…

You quickly snapped out of thought as you felt his head push against your slick entrance while simultaneously brushing gently against your clit. He teased a bit so he could gather some of the wetness to coat himself for an easier slide inside. It already felt so good and he wasn’t even in you yet.

Then, he slowly pushed inside.

It was painful, and a stretch, too. Even going slow you had to stop him when he was halfway in to get used to him, a shaky hand pressing against his hardened abs. He peppered your face with kisses in the meantime until it started feeling okay. Then “okay” slowly became fucking amazing.

His size was still a bit much though, but god did he talk you through it.

It was getting overwhelming quick as he slowly thrusted and his strong arms caged you in. And, he just filled you up so good all you could do was whine and moan. It became so much that you started to cry a bit from the pleasure.

“I know baby, i know.” Mark whispered close to your ear. His voice was breathy and husky now. “I’m right here.. You feel so good. Fuck—, so fucking good baby..”

You couldn’t respond.

Not even if you wanted to.

As he bottomed you out and started picking up his pace all you could do was say his name over and over.

“You’re taking me so well. I knew you could do it, so proud of you…” He groaned while kissing your neck. He said you looked pretty under him too but you could barely hear that part as you were so focused on how good it felt.

The bed stared squeaking louder as he was getting close with you not far behind but you knew he wouldn’t finish before you. The second he started huskily telling you to let go and “finish all over him” it was over.

“That’s my pretty girl. So good for me.” He cooed. He held you by your sides as you came even gently still thrusting to add to it.

And even after he pulled out and finished on your stomach and thighs he was still saying filthy things.

“Look at you, so pretty even all messed up like this..”

That sock never came off that door that night.

[prokopetz]

why do you think indie metroidvanias specifically take so long to make, and is there a solution that you'd like to see them go for? (i know that would likely mean a compromise of some kind, but like, you know)

The reason why is fairly obvious: the classic metroidvania formula makes it very easy to fall prey to unintentional scope creep and is a positive nightmare to QA.

Non-linear progression gating based on precision platforming challenges where the player's basic moveset is constantly changing means every little thing needs to be rigorously tested in every part of the gameworld, carefully checking every room with every combination of abilities the player could conceivably possess for a wide range of failure states.

Is there some combination of abilities that allows the player to get into this room, but not out of it afterwards? Is there some combination of abilities that allows the player to do things in an order you didn't expect? Does that variation in sequencing in turn create situations where the player can end up somewhere without an ability you had assumed was required to get there? And so forth.

Even once you've got everything tested, it's not over. Every tiny change during development, even as small as adding or subtracting a couple of percentage points from the player character's jumping height or walking speed, can potentially have a domino effect that introduces a whole new set of failure states. It's not a pretty picture!

As for solutions, the one most solo or small-team metroidvanias end up adopting is to put a damper on the exponential QA explosion by linearising progression. If you haven't flipped the right switch or visited the right room, the door simply doesn't open, the progression-critical cutscene simply doesn't trigger, and so forth. Even big-name metroidvanias often make judicious use of this one: for example, Super Metroid has certain doors in the early game that just arbitrarily will not open until you've collected a couple of specific items from the game's combat-free introductory area.

The trouble with this approach is that if you use it to the extent that's necessary to keep your QA responsibilities at a manageable level for a small team or solo developer, you functionally end up with a linear, level-based platformer that makes you walk from one level to the next. Whether this disqualifies a given title from the "metroidvania" label is a demarcation problem I'm not interested in litigating, but folks who expected a more open world experience are quite understandably going to be disappointed.

The approach I'd prefer more indie metroidvanias take is to keep things under control by limiting their scope. Not ever damn thing needs to be the next Hollow Knight; many classics of the genre can be completed in well under an hour with good routing even without employing modern speedrun tech. Similarly, some of the best indie metroidvanias are those with the smallest maps; Alruna and the Necro-Industrialists, probably the best example of open-world map design of any metroidvania published in 2024, has a map that's scarcely twenty by twenty screens, and its routing is downright fiendish.

(One of my perennial probably-never-gonna-happen projects is to design a full-featured metroidvania targeting a two to three hour casual playthrough whose entire map can fit on a single screen while remaining at a vaguely playable zoom level, in the style of titles like 1 Screen Platformer.)

[ponderingmoonlight]

How you accidentally made Dante look like a hero again

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: All you wanted was to outsmart Dante and prove he was setting you up for demon attacks in order to get closer to you. Instead, you ended up buried under library rubble, fighting off scorpion demons, and getting saved by him — again. This is why you have trust issues.

Warnings: swearing, kinda enemies to lovers dynamic, I just love Dante y'all need to have mercy with me lol

You’re starting to think you’re cursed.

That’s the only explanation for it. How else do you keep ending up in demon-infested alleys, haunted casinos, and - once - dangling upside down from a stolen motorcycle, twice in the same week? No average person deserves so much distress.

But even worse: every time - every damn time - there’s Dante.

Bursting in like he’s auditioning for an action movie. Guns blazing, coat flaring behind him, a cocky smirk plastered across his stupidly handsome face.

God, how much you hate that guy.

…do you?

"Oh no," you mutter under your breath when you spot him swaggering through the chaos yet again.

"Not this asshole."

"Miss me, babe?" he calls, spinning his sword once before cleaving a demon in half like it's no big deal.

You barely dodge a flying claw, pretty used to almost dying by now.

"Dante, why are there hellhounds in the laundromat?! I just came here to do my laundry!"

He winks at you like this is all part of some grand romantic plan.

"You know. Crazy city. You never know what’s gonna happen. Nice panties by the way, wish I could see them up close."

You stare at him, sceptical to say the least, as he shoots a demon that was two inches away from biting your head off.

"This is the fourth time this month. And every time you're 'coincidentally' nearby!"

He strolls over, casually beheading something with his sword like he's just stretching his legs. How many times have you seen this already? Probably like a hundred times.

This month.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, sweetheart."

You gawk at him. No, the thing he calls fate can’t be an accident. There is literally no way in hell that you get attacked even more often than himself. There has to be another reason. Could it be that…?

"Are you setting this up?!"

He gives you a look, all fake innocence and devilish grin.

That bastard.

"Who, me? Nahhh. Demons just have a thing for damsels. Lucky for you... I'm a professional knight in shining armor."

A piece of ceiling collapses dangerously close to you. You flinch for once. Dante doesn’t even blink, just throws an arm around your waist and throws you out of the way with way too much enthusiasm.

You land on your back with a grunt, staring up at the cracked ceiling and wondering what life choices led you here. Where did you take a wrong turn to deserve this? Being liked by a hot guy is all fun and games until the name of that jerk is Dante Sparda, apparently.

Dante leans over you, upside-down, grinning like a maniac.

"You good? Need mouth-to-mouth?" he offers helpfully.

You shove him off you, the heat of his body almost devouring you whole.

"I’m getting a restraining order."

"You say that, but then who’s gonna save you next time you almost get eaten by a possessed vending machine?"

You open your mouth to argue - and realize you have no idea how to deal with possessed vending machines. You groan, burying your face in your hands.

“Maybe you’re the one who possesses everything around me…”

Dante pats your head fondly like you’re some kind of beloved but very dumb kitten.

"You mean like your thoughts? Most definitely, yeah. But don't worry, babe," he coos cheerfully, "I'll always be there to save your pretty little ass."

You’re pretty sure that’s supposed to be comforting. Instead, you start mentally drafting your will.

“Get off me now, I need to get going jerk. And stop staring at my panties”, you hiss through gritted teeth while getting up, packing your things and leaving.

No, this isn’t an accident, not your fault by any means. Dante is the one who sets all of this shit up.

“That fucker…”, you mutter to yourself, slamming the door shut in fury.

You can’t do this anymore, can’t take seeing a demon each time you leave your house. You’ll have to teach him a lesson.

Yes, there has to be a way to stop this madness once and for all.

“I’ll catch you mid-act, Dante…”

You hatch a plan.

A pretty simple one: bait Dante into showing up, catch him red-handed, and finally prove he's arranging all this chaos.

You pick the most boring, demon-unfriendly place you can think of: the public library. No shady alleys, no creepy neon signs, no way in hell anything supernatural is hanging out between the tax law section and the dusty romance novels.

You text him a fake tip, something about "possible demonic activity" near the library, totally urgent, definitely needs his professional attention.

Then you sit back, tuck yourself into a corner with a stack of books, and wait.

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. Thirty.

No Dante.

You start to relax. Maybe he finally got the hint. Maybe he's actually busy for once. Did your words from yesterday finally stir something inside of his brain?

And that's when the ceiling caves in.

You shriek as a massive scorpion demon crashes through the roof, scattering books and terrified civilians everywhere. Librarians are running for their lives. An entire row of encyclopedias explodes in a puff of dusty chaos, taking your sight while you desperately try to crawl out of the scene.

Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen. That definitely wasn’t written on your bingo card for today.

"What the hell?!" you shout, diving behind a bookshelf just in time before a whole fucking shelf bumps onto the ground next to you.

"HEY BABY!" a too-familiar voice yells from somewhere in the smoke.

You peek out and see Dante standing atop the checkout desk, dual pistols in hand, grinning like this is the best day of his life.

"Miss me?"

You stare at him, speechless. No, this has to be a dream. This was supposed to be a trap, you set him off in order to finally find him guilty. And now this?

"HOW?!"

He jumps off the desk, unloading a round of bullets into the demon's face like it’s a casual Tuesday.

"You sent me the text! Good instincts, by the way - I was gonna ignore it, but then I figured, ‘Hey, if my girl’s around, probably gonna be some action.’ And look! Action!"

You dodge a flying claw and seriously consider strangling him with a library card cord.

"I SENT YOU A FAKE TEXT!" you shout over the sound of gunfire.

"THERE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE A REAL DEMON!"

"Aw," Dante replies, kicking a demon minion into a copy machine, "you’re so modest. You’re like a magnet for this stuff."

You have no time to argue. The giant scorpion is bearing down on you. You grab the nearest weapon, a hardcover dictionary about curse words in Spanish, and hurl it at its head. It bounces off harmlessly. Yeah, what a surprise, actually.

Dante whistles low, impressed.

"Good arm, babe. But here - lemme show you how it's done."

Before you can blink, he’s in front of you, sword flashing, doing some ridiculously show-offy spin move that absolutely wasn’t necessary but looks cool as hell anyway.

The demon collapses with a final screech.

Silence falls over the destroyed library.

Books smolder, paper flutters in the air like sad confetti. Somewhere, a printer makes a pathetic beep before dying.

You sit down heavily on the floor, dazed.

Dante strolls over, all proud, offering you a hand up.

"No need to thank me. It’s kinda my thing."

You stare at him, mind still processing what just happened. Your mission failed – miserably, so say the least.  

"I literally TRIED to set you up."

"And look how well it worked!" he declares brightly.

"You lured out the bad guys! You're a natural at this demon-hunting stuff. I'm so proud."

You want to punch him. You want to kiss him. You want to punch him then kiss him.

Instead, you let him pull you to your feet, dusting off your scorched jacket.

"I'm never texting you again," you grumble.

"Sure you will," Dante coos, flashing that stupid, charming grin.

"You can't resist me."

You open your mouth to argue - and immediately get tackled to the ground as a second, smaller demon leaps from the wreckage.

You land with a painful thud, pinned beneath Dante’s weight as he shoots over your head, finishing off the last monster.

When the danger’s over, he stays there for an awkward beat too long, smirking down at you.

"See? Told ya. Always there to catch ya when you fall."

You groan, covering your face with your hands while absolutely hating how good his body weight feels on top of you, how surprisingly good that asshole of a man smells.

"I'm going to die of second-hand embarrassment."

"Nah," Dante retorts confidently, getting up and pulling you with him again.

"If anyone’s gonna kill you, it’s gonna be something way cooler. Like a demon. Or a possessed espresso machine."

You squint at him.

 "You’re not gonna let this go, are you?"

He slings an arm around your shoulders like he owns the place, like the ablaze library isn’t his fault at all, and leads you toward the exit.

"Nope. You're stuck with me, sweetheart."

You sigh.

Maybe getting a new phone and a new name wouldn’t be the worst idea.

…Or just giving in.

[theknightlywolfe]

As an aside on the memorization thing, I would argue for most humans we haven't lost an iota of memorization, it is simply dispersed over a wider area.

I don't listen to just local May Day and Harvest songs, church choirs, and whatever performances a traveler brought, on any given day a 30min commute each way will play 20 songs and tomorrow that's another 20 songs, and the next day another 20. And I don't have to just remember the rhythm and pace of mass but the words of the books, news articles, social media updates of friends, menus of local restaurants, current locations of favoured food trucks, etc that I encounter every week if I want to apply that knowledge when I encounter/plan something next week. Talking about the Hunger Games movie isn't just remembering the plot and pacing, its recalling Battle Royale, the social standards of when it came out and the inspirations of when the books were written, as well as the other works of the actors. And then I have to do that for hundreds of movies and thousands of episodes of TV. Just look how much there is to think about, know, and retain just with the MCU. And, I, personally, *suck* at modern media trivia and yet still am somehow the person people turn to for that very thing because in certain areas I retain a ton of it.

And my job isn't just painting or leatherworking or carpentry or farming. As an accountant I have to be familiar with GAAP and SOX and the tax rules of the IRS and sales and use, property, income, and payroll taxes of 1 to 50 states (and hundreds to thousands of municipalities) and also IFRS and FAR if I end up in an applicable organization, and that doesn't even begin to touch on how many regulations are applied to the field in medical insurance or government and grant. And then knowing how to use five of the major seven ERP systems I may be asked to work in depending on who I work for, and then the dozens of additional, specialty softwares/services standard to accounting work to say nothing of the advanced Excel skills needed and how that translates in a shared work environment or ports to Sheets and other softwares. And how to use general productivity and communication softwares and the corporate policies and rules of wherever I work. And I also provide software support and low level technical support and I have to know HR basics and local employment laws and management techniques and the specifics of the specialists who report to me or are on my team so I can cover them when they go on holiday. And if I am doing client work I have to do it all for multiple, often completely different, companies all with their own set of additional softwares and services I need to remember not just how to use but how to read their data output (fuck you Amazon and your completely deranged three seperate ways of recording sales and costs in one single fucking period). And then I go home and write, and draw, and leatherwork, and woodwork, and garden food crops.

So yeah, people make jokes about people reusing the same password for everything but good gods, count how many things require you to have a password and I bet you while it may not be the Odyssey, it is pretty well past Prufrock.

So yeah, give me the bloody tool to help me remember whether I need milk from the store or not. (But don't try to force me to use the thing that hallucinates penguin milk)

generative AI literally makes me feel like a boomer. people start talking about how it can be good to help you brainstorm ideas and i’m like oh you’re letting a computer do the hard work and thinking for you???

[bakug0uzb1thc]

omg after reading your last request it made me think of my own. Katsuki x reader who is the older sister in her household. basically on top of the readers hero studies, she has to still be a second mother for her many siblings and is burnt out.

hope this isn’t too much or anything :)

Agh I enjoyed writing this sm :3 feel free to change any sibling names !!

Solutions

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem! Reader

Summary: ruined plans by having to watch your siblings take a cute turn !!

Warnings: none, mainly fluff, bkg might be ooc

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

You were supposed to have a nice date with Katsuki, you had been stressed and he said he’d take you out to help you both take a break from hero work and your studies.

you told him to stay outside so you could change real quick but you said that unaware of what was gonna meet you on the other side.

As you walked in and took off your shoes you were greeted by your younger twin brothers Kyo and Tsuyoi wrestling, your little sister Hiyori crying and your angelic baby brother yuro hugging his blanket on the sidelines just watching.

You wanted to cry, the one day you thought you could share with your boyfriend was now ruined. “Hey break it up you two.” You deadplanted grabbing both ten-year-olds by the back of their shirts but that didn’t stop them from trying to throw themselves at each-other.

“He started it y/n!” Kyo yelled pointing to the other boy that looked like a copy. “No it wasn’t!” Tsuyoi defended but you shut them up before they had any other words to throw.

“I don’t care who did what where’s mom?” Looking between the two waiting for an answer. “Shes asleep, she said she needed to take a nap.” Kyo sighed trying to squeeze out of your hold.

You were at a defeat, she worked another night shift at the hospital and you couldn’t just wake her up, but you were gonna have to tell Katsuki you had to cancel.

Walking out the door and shutting it behind you, he raised his gaze confused. “Thought you were gonna change?” He tilted his head, “I can’t suki, I need to watch my siblings. My mom worked the night shift and is taking a nap.” You fidgeted with your fingers trying your best to avoid his look.

“That’s fine? Your siblings love me.” He gave a smug smile. The disappointment you were expecting never came, you were only met by him giving you another solution.

“Are you su-“ the door you were leaning on opened to all your siblings peaking out to see who their sister was talking to.

“Hey it’s Bakugou!” Tsuyoi shouted flinging the door open. “Hey squirt.” He said ruffing the kids hair as he waved to all the rest of your siblings who thought foundly of him.

“See they love me.” He said even smugger than before with a matching smirk. “Hey I wanna show you the new video game I got!” Kyo said grabbing onto his hand dragging him into the house giving him just barely enough time to take off his shoes.

The rest of the night was surprisingly the most relaxed you’d been in a while, all of your hero studies you pushed yourself through no longer crowding your mind and to your shock Katsuki was weirdly good with your siblings.

Despite you having more brothers Katsuki never failed to include your little sister into whatever the boys were doing.

“You surprise me kat.” You whispered trying to not wake the 4 sleeping bodies that were against and on both you and Katsuki. All of you had sat down for a movie and boom they were all fast asleep.

“What do you mean?” He said still managing to have at least an arm wrapped around you.

“You’re so good with them, they don’t even like me that much.” You rolled your eyes with dramatic jealousy. “Dunno, I just want them to think I’m cool I guess.” He shrugged at the confession he thought was obvious.

“That so.. sweet.” You gave him a soft smile and laid your head on his shoulder, doing your best not to wake the sleeping yudo on your lap.

“Thank you, for helping me.” you rub your cheek on him trying to show some affection. “I can’t kiss you so I’m resorting to this don’t think I’m weird.” You tried to defend. “You’re still weird.” He laid his head on top of yours. “Shut up.”

[orimuraa]

• I'm burning hot - LHS ↳ ┊: hot - le sserafim

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆being under the same company as your idol crush has it’s perks, especially when it comes to variety shows ⨾

۶ৎ idol!heeseung x fem idol!reader┆fluff, crack┆slight age gap? (3 years), co-workers to ???┆reader is in le sserafim┆wc 1.1k

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: thank you to my sweet 🫧 anon who requested this! i think it’s such a cute prompt and i hope i did okay ㅠㅠ feedback and reblogs are always appreciated >0<

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

rule number 1 of being an idol: don’t fall in love.

rule number 2 of being an idol: if you make eye contact with a male idol, you’re dating.

rule number 3 of being an idol: don’t even interact with a male idol or else you’re dating.

so when you were told by your manager that you were going to be going on a variety show with lee heeseung of enhypen, you knew you were absolutely done for.

heeseung was the one idols you would break all those rules for. he was the one that could single handily break your career with a single second of eye contact.

you weren't sure if it was immense luck or immense doom that you were paired with your idol crush of many years, but whatever it was, it made your stomach turn with different emotions.

“chaewon eonnieeee,” you whined. “i’m so dead…the netizens are gonna rip me apart if i even breathe too close to him.” you sulked, dramatically flopping onto the practice room floors.

“ynnie, just be yourself, okay? it'll go smoothly if you don't fumble! just…try to avoid any scandals…” chaewon mumbles the last part, resulting in a playful smack on her shoulder.

“hey! don’t scare her like that!” yunjin scolds, walking over to where you two were sitting.

“she’s gonna be fine. just keep the eye contact to a minimum and don’t go too close to him, got it?” yunjin says, listing the things on her fingers.

got it. so basically don’t even breathe around lee heeseung. that’ll go wonderfully.

~~

you weren’t even sure what the variety show was and what was even going to happen on it. you’re pretty sure your manager was telling you about it but you probably weren’t listening.

all you knew was that you were insanely nervous and very unprepared. oh! and that it was school themed.

when you first walked into the classroom that was rented out, you were greeted very politely by the staff and the show hosts. the show hosts were very famous comedians that were also dressed in high-school uniforms, despite being in their 40's.

then, your eyes locked with the prettiest bambi eyes ever. well- there goes rule number 2.

there stood lee heeseung who was practically glowing with his fake glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. god, did he look so good.

“hello! i’m y/n of le sserafim. it’s very nice to meet you,” you greeted, hoping your voice wasn't too shaky.

you shook hands with heeseung and for a second, you felt your career flash before you eyes.

“hi! i’m heeseung of enhypen! no need to be so formal! i heard we’re gonna be partners for the show!” he smiled sweetly, chuckling at how formal you were being.

“ah ok! i’m actually not quite sure what this show is about…” you replied sheepishly, heat rising to your cheeks.

“oh no worries! i’m sure they’re gonna explain everything before we start shooting,” he laughs lightly.

by the time you actually start filming, you’re already exhausted. you have to admit that you were having a ton of fun with the games and you have to say, you and heeseung make an amazing duo.

however, there was definitely a part of you that was holding back as you didn't want to make heeseung uncomfortable in any way. so far, you two had won the random dance challenge, shouting in silence, and limbo.

seeing heeseung laugh whole-heatedly made you smile, noticing the way he seemed less uptight like in the beginning.

you two were able to earn many coins so you could afford the more luxurious lunch options.

"hmm i say we get a tteokbokki, a ramyeon, and some galbi!" heeseung says, scrunching his eyebrows as he looks at the menu.

"i trust you and you're decisions," you nod, trying to hide you blushing cheeks. why did lee heeseung have to be so charming?!

you two sat next to each other for lunch as you were sharing the dishes you ordered, while the show still went on. the hosts were cracking jokes and also asking questions about your guys' idol lives.

at one point, one of the hosts pointed out how you and heeseung made a great pair in all of the games. the only games you two lost were pictionary (due to heeseung's horrendous artistic skills) and red light green light (due to your inability to stay still).

the comment made you blush for the 1015th time today and out of the corner of your eye, you saw heeseung's ears turn red as well. you prayed they would edit that out.

when filming came to an end, you stuck around just for a bit of behind-the-scenes filming, group photos, and a bit of filming for your vlog.

"heeseung! come here!" you called out to the taller man. "come say hi to the fearnots!"

"hello fearnots! don't worry, i have taken care of y/n just fine and we actually make a great time!" he says to the camera, leaning in to your side a bit.

but while he talks some more to the camera, all you can focus on is him. how close he is, how good his perfume smells, and how much more beautiful he is up close.

"right y/n?" heeseung's voice knocks you out of your daze and you quickly recover.

"yep!" you squeak, hoping it didn't seem too awkward.

you also managed to squeeze in a bit of challenge filming. your group recently made a comeback and enhypen was releasing a digital single very soon so it was perfect. you let heeseung decide if he wanted to do the 'come over' challenge, or the 'hot' challenge and clearly, he had an opinion.

"if we do the hot challenge, with you caption it 'heeseung's burning hot'?" he playfully smirks. you shove his shoulder lightly, laughing off your flustered-ness.

"fine," you huff, rolling your eyes at him.

you two quickly learned each other's choreo and were able to film the challenges very successfully (with minor casualties). the loose choreo was very enticing and it definitely did not help with your flustered state.

"so, am i burning hot?" he smirks again, taking a sip of water after finished the challenges. you feel the air get caught in your throat.

"no," you lie, holding back an equally annoying smirk. but before you can think anymore, heeseung leans in to whisper something into your ear:

"darling, we both know that's a lie."

his expression is unreadable but there's a faint glint of interest in his eyes. and before you know it, he's walking out the door with his manager, mouthing the words "call me" as you discover the piece of paper in your pocket.

oh, chaewon was so gonna kill you.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @soona-huh

[voidsuites]

CHALLENGERSVERSARY BOT RELEASE !!! (4/26/25) ⌢ 🎾 .ᐟ

ART DONALDSON ・゜゜・．dreams. los angeles is the city of dreams, and making it in such a place full of creativity and opportunity is the end goal for an aspiring actor like you. you’re grateful for the city and its generosity thus far— it’d given you your jazz musician, art after your breakup and consequent slump in acting jobs. your goals may be shifting— broadening just a bit to allow for your one-man play, your budding career, and art to all fit comfortably within them— but there’s always going to be ups-and-downs. what you didn’t anticipate, though, is art to trade in his own passion to succeed for something steady and stifling; when did he start to play it safe, and why is it somehow your fault? (la la land!au)

PATRICK ZWEIG ・゜゜・．can’t take my eyes off you. sooo… patrick hadn’t kissed you at the party the other night— oops. while not sure why it’s such a faux pas for you, patrick’s more concerned with winning you over rather than dwelling on past mistakes. he’s taken the time to really make it up to you, and hopefully he’ll manage to get back into your good graces (lest all his hard work gone into chipping at your walls goes to waste). you’re just too good to be true, after all, and maybe this thing’s more than just a ruse; maybe it’s love. (10 things i hate about you!au)

TASHI DUNCAN ・゜゜・．in the studio. you and tashi have been peers in the pop music space since both of you started out; however, she took home the grammys awards for her album SERVE! that should’ve been yours, and things have been off since. you’re normally amicable to work with but not a pushover, hence why you’re so adamant about not doing a collaboration with her despite the numbers it’d do on the charts. but what the label wants, it gets— and it wants you to have some studio time with tashi duncan. (pop star!au)

ART PATRICK TASHI ・゜゜・．cabin fever. you and tashi are no means trust-fund babies, so it's unfamiliar territory for both of you when art and patrick suggest a trip to the donaldsons' cabin to ski for winter break. while it may not be time to hit the slopes just yet, it's more than an opportune time to truly take advantage of having all three of them in such close quarters without worrying about noise complaints from your RA. what's the worst that could happen with the four of you shacking up in mammoth for two weeks? (ski trip/winter break!au)

got a request? go ahead and leave em here :) THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 15K! one year of the tennis movie... wow. i was a bit later to the game and saw challengers in theaters in june during a reissue, but i am so lucky and grateful that i did. not only did it give us iconic scenes, an insane soundtrack, and tashi duncan, it gave us a community of creative and talented people that i am so lucky to be a a part of! challengersblr is probably the first fandom space i've actively participated + engaged with others in, and i have made so many great friends through our shared love of the movie. in luca guadagnino we trust!!!!!! :) if u want more of me u can join my community if u want to… or don’t— too busy taking such good care of my white boys or whatever. blah blah blah, the points that matter, i too would let her fuck me with a racket, yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

[sasquapossum]

Hi. Former philosophy major here. I've given this a lot of thought over too many years, and I actually do have an answer that might be helpful to someone. The more good there is in the world, the more likely it becomes that each and every person will be on the receiving end. We can't necessarily predict when or how, but over sufficient time it's statistically close to certain that our good deeds will come back around to us. It's like karma, but without the mysticism. It's just math - mostly game theory plus a few other bits. So if something costs you very little but means a lot to someone else, do it. You're putting positive energy into the system, effectively investing in your own karmic future. It's also helping others, and if you do care about morality that's important, but I'm trying to make an argument from pure self interest here. You just have to zoom out a bit and look at a system level instead of the individual transactions.

The Good Place (2016-2020)

[bloodlineslut]

Live | Jey Uso

Pairings: Jey Uso x black! OC

Warnings: none just fluff; jey being the cutie patootie he is

Summary: Jey just got back to the hotel from a hockey game with CM Punk to find his girl on live doing her skincare routine for her TikTok account, & decides to pop in.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: best idea that ever popped in my head

“Alright Jey, catch you tomorrow for a workout?” Punk dapped Jey up in the hallway, confirming that they were still on for the gym in the morning.

“You know it man, cmon. Bright and early too.” Jey told him, patting him on the back as they departed to go to their own hotel rooms.

As Jey walked closer to the door, he reached in his pocket for his key card…

Only to find it wasn’t there.

He smacked his teeth and knocked on the door, hoping that Brianna was awake by now. She wasn’t feeling well earlier because of her allergies, otherwise she would’ve went to the hockey game with him.

“I knew this boy forgot his key.” He heard her say on the other side of the door before swinging it open, hand on her hip.

He already knew what she was gonna say. “I know, baby. I know.” He put his hands up in surrender, walking into the room and bending down to give her a kiss.

“Mm, you smell good.” He leans back down, putting his nose against her neck for another whiff of her perfume.

Brianna’s hand goes to his arm as she laughs and tries to pull away, remembering that her phone was still on live with her followers waiting patiently for her return.

“Damn girl.” He comes up for a second to talk before going back to sniffing her.

“Jey!” She was laughing heartily now and also because it tickled. “I’m on live, look.” She points to her phone that was stuck on the mirror with her grippy case.

Both of their eyes find the phone and see that they were only in the corner of the frame. “Oh my fault.” He lets her go and she thought he was gonna walk clean past the camera but instead he gets all up in it and starts yapping away.

“Waddup family! It’s your boy Main Event Jey U…So!”

All Brianna can do is roll her eyes and giggle. He was always so damn silly and making her laugh; it was how she fell in love with him.

“Let me see how many of ya’ll in here…” He talks to the live, looking at the number of people in the upper corner.

“Damn bae! You got a thousand people on here.” He brought his fist against his mouth, then started reading the comments.

@ slayedandsaved: Is Jey a hockey fan?? 👀

@ wwe_chaos_: I saw you Jey at the game and CM Punk!!

@ vibingvixen: bri i’m so jealous this is your man.

“Aye ‘slayedandsaved’ I been a hockey fan since a couple hours ago.”

“‘wwechaos’ you saw me and Punk huh? Aye, that ice cream was good uce.”

“‘Bri I’m so jealous this is your man’. Yeetttt. Nah, but I’m the lucky one.”

Brianna was now standing next to him, out of frame, getting her last products out of her bag to finish up her routine.

Jey noticed this and snapped back into reality. “You right, you right. My bad baby. Aye but look though. Follow my girl, like, comment, and do all that. Yeet.” He talks with his hands before moving out of the frame, letting Brianna take back over.

“Guest appearance from the man, the myth, the legend guys.” She smiled and looked at him across the hotel room as he was taking off his white Air Forces.

“Okay so after I wash my face, I just use this toner from Fenty. It’s the Fat Water. Ya’ll need to use this because it’s so soothing if you have really sensitive skin.” She screwed the cap off quickly putting it down on the counter and poured some into the palm of her hand, warming it up, before pressing it gently into her skin.

“Bri you ain’t say nothin’ about my jersey!” She heard Jey say from in front of the TV. He was trying to find something to watch while Brianna finished her live.

She stepped backwards to see in the doorway towards his sitting figure on the bed. “I thought it was cute babe!”

“Yea but you ain’t see what’s on the back though.” He stood up and turned his back to her, showcasing the “Uso” above the number. Brianna actually didn’t even see that when he first came back.

“Awww Jey! That’s so cute! You can lowkey say you play for them.” She laughs, her heart beaming at his child-like excitement.

“Well then they need to run me my money.” He sat back down on the bed, attention drawn back to the television.

“Sorry guys I’m back.” She talks to her followers and/or new people in the live. She takes a minute to read what they were commenting.

@ bodyyaddybabe: girl respectfully ur man is FOINEEEE 😍😩

@ usoandbae: does jey ever stop yapping?😂

“No. He yaps 24/7.” She said loud on purpose so he would hear.

“I heard that.”

Bri just giggles, grabbing her moisturizer to show the camera. “Okay so next…wait what did I just do?...Toner! You wanna use moisturizer after. I use the Neutrogena Hydro Boost Water Cream. This one is good for my oily skin because it’s water based.”

She scoops some up with her knuckle and rubs it in evenly on her face.

“After that, I sometimes do a face mask but I already did one earlier so I’m not gonna do another one. I think I’ll do…” She trails off, searching through her bag.

She could never keep up with that little ass bottle.

“Oh my goshhh!” She exclaims in slight frustration. Her allergies made her eyelids puffy and this eye cream she had been using was helping a lot if she used it consistently.

“What you looking for?” She felt Jey’s presence right behind her as she still was looking for the product.

“My eye cream. It’s in that small ass bottle.”

Jey had actually spotted it on the counter but wanted her to suffer a little bit. “Mmcht. And you was talking ‘bout me losing the room key.”

“Joshua.” She looked at him through the phone for a second while he tried to hide his smile with his hand.

He just had one question before he pointed out the eye cream’s location to her overlooking eyes. “After this, can we go get some Waffle House?” He knew she would say yes just to get him to stop talking.

“Yes Joshua.”

He reached around her and picked up the small white plastic bottle, holding it in front of her.

She playfully rolled her eyes and took it from his thick fingers. He just kissed her on the cheek and retreated back to the bed.

“Ya’ll how did he see it before I did?” She rhetorically asks the live while putting one dot under each eye to gently work it in for the cooling effect. She saw a few people ask what brand the eye cream was.

“I got this from my dermatologist. But ya’ll just screenshot and show it to your doctor.” She held it up steady enough for people who wanted it.

“Okay and then I put on my brow and lash serum. I use the one by Grande Cosmetics and it works so fast for me. I’ve heard good reviews for it too.” She brushed the felt tip coated with the product through her brows and lashes, fanning it with her hands to dry.

“And that’s it!” She began to clean up the counter, putting away the products back into her bag and wiping the counter down.

Jey poked his head in and in the frame, all you could see was half of his face in the doorway. Brianna saw how silly he looked.

“Why are you creeping right now?” She laughed, putting the last of her things away.

“You done? Can we go to Waffle House now?” He asks her again.

“Yes babe. I’m hungry too.” She took the Hello Kitty headband out of her straightened hair and ran her fingers through it, taming the flyaways.

“Tell them your order Jey. Ya’ll gotta hear this.” Bri wraps her arms around her man’s waist.

“Bet. Okay I get like 6 eggs with cheese, scrambled. Hashbrowns, you gotta get the triple hashbrowns. Scattered and covered, cmon uce. Then you gotta get waffles if you going to Waffle House, duh. Two of ‘em with the chocolate chips in there. And a lemonade, boom. Maybe I’ll drink a coffee at the end though.”

@usoandbae: SIX MF EGGS??

@vibingvixen: ik his stomach sound like boots in the dryer

@feelinuceyyy__: I’ve never had waffle house but jey makes it sound so good

“Bye they said your stomach be sounding like boots in the dryer.” Brianna laughed at the comment before walking to the closet to grab a hoodie.

“Your boy do be full after though, can’t lie.”

“You ain’t ever had Waffle House?! Where you at uce? Go find the nearest one tonight.”

Brianna had pulled on her grey hoodie that was matching her sweats, and slid her feet in her uggs that Jey has just bought her.

“Okay babe we can go now.” She stood behind him and put her hands up on his shoulders, wanting to get on his back. He squatted down a little so she could jump up on him, securing her legs with his hands.

“Wait walk closer so I can take my phone off the mirror.”

He did and she extended one arm to pull it off with some resistance. Jey was walking around the room with her on his back, having already put his shoes back on, to grab his wallet and car keys.

“Ight, we bouncing.” He says at the door.

“Okay bye guys!! We’re about to go be big backs. I may post pics of the food if I remember. Love ya’ll so much!”

Brianna puts the camera on Jey and he smiles, showing his grills. “Later family. Yeet.”

She ends the live and holds on tight to her man as he locks the door and they both leave, still on his back. She suddenly remembered she didn’t grab her copy of the room key.

“Jey did you get the key card?”

“…Shit.”

taglist!: @4milly @amandairene88 @uceyliyahh @levissslutt @sheaabuttaababyy @punksyeet

[bueckersleftbraid]

”—The Weight of Staying

WC: 5.9k

singer/songwriter!azzi x nylibertyplayer!paige

warnings: none? this is pretty much just fluff

Some people are bad at letting go. Others are even worse at walking away for good. Paige and Azzi have always been a little bit of both.

authors note —> hi loves, I’m finally uploading again. I am absolutely in love with this storyline, so I hope that all of you love it too! I’m not sure if I will be adding to this, but let me know if you would like that.

A cool breeze blew through the open window in Azzi’s apartment, which was 5 floors up but the noice of the city was still evident from below. She sat at her desk, the blank page of her song writing book glaring at her. She had tried everything. Rhyming— which Azzi always thought sounded a bit childish anyway—, listening to other artists, just writing out her thoughts. But nothing seemed to work. Everything just felt like it was missing something. And honestly, Azzi felt like a part of her was missing too. She hadn’t spoken to Paige in weeks. Despite Paige having a strand of home games, so she would be in the city for a while, Azzi hadn’t gotten up the courage to text her. It had always been a cycle with them. Almost lovers, almost enemies, always something. 

Their last fight had been, well, stupid to say the least. It always ended in Azzi wanting more and Paige not being able to give her that. Paige had to travel all the time for games or brand deals or whatever event she had going on that week, which left Azzi alone in a city that was supposed to be for them. Despite this, Azzi always found herself being dragged back to the blonde. And tonight was just the same. Azzi felt alone and the only one who could make her feel better was Paige. The only one she wanted to even try. Finally, Azzi decided to pull out her phone, clicking on Paige’s contact.

Are you home?

She hit send, before locking her phone and exhaling. She looked around. God, her apartment was a mess. Cluttered with clothes and suitcases from her recent trip to Los Angeles for a pop-up concert. The only shelf that looked perfect— as it always did— was her vinyl collection. One that held so many memories. Late nights in summer when she would curl up with Paige and listen to music together. 

Suddenly, a buzz. That was quick. 

Home now. Need something?

Azzi smiled at the message. Despite the lack of contact between the two in recent times, Paige still offered to help. Because it was Azzi. How could she not?

A hug maybe. Trying to write and nothings working.

Azzi exhaled as she typed the message. She never felt like she had to hide with Paige, like she needed to feel shame for her emotions.

Want me to come pick you up?

A small smile immediately blossomed on Azzi’s face. They were back. It had always been a routine that Azzi wouldn’t call an Uber. Paige thought they were sketchy. She always said, “You never know who’s driving. Could be a creep,” which Azzi would always agree. The blonde would insist on driving Azzi herself to anywhere she needed.

Yes please, see you in 10?

Text you when I’m outside 

Once she got the message, Azzi packed a small bag. Only intending on one night at most— she had most of her stuff already at Paige’s place anyway. She slipped makeup wipes, a pair of pajamas and some clothes for her meeting in the morning, a small bag of makeup— only the necessities; blush, mascara, and a light coverage concealer— a comb so she could at least part her curls in the morning. Everything else Paige had.  

Soon enough her phone buzzed.

Outside the lobby to the left, my normal spot

Azzi smiled softly at her phone before slinging her bag over her shoulder and slipping on a pair of uggs—her black tasmans that she had matching with Paige. They were a random gift one day. The blonde had said, “I thought they suited us,” which of course made Azzi’s heart flutter— and grabbing her keys. She slipped out of her and walked down the empty hallway of her floor, relishing in the comforting silence of the moment as she waited for the elevator. 

As she exited the lobby, the chill of the midnight air hitting her and sending shivers through her body. Maybe a T-shirt wasn’t the best choice of clothing. The brunette wrapped her arms around herself as she made her way down the block to the black Jeep Grand Cherokee, a large car considering that Paige barely ever drove people around. 

“Hi Az,” Paige spoke, voice smooth as ever, as Azzi slipped into the passenger seat, the brunettes ears immediately being filled with the faint sound of Daniel Caesar.

Azzi leaned back into the seat, letting the city blur past them in streaks of gold and blue. The heat in the car was just starting to kick in, making the windows slightly fogged around the edges. The warmth felt good—comfortable, familiar. But Paige wasn’t acting like herself.

Her left hand gripped the steering wheel tighter than usual, and Azzi noticed the subtle way she leaned her body away from the driver’s side door, favoring her right. It was something only someone who knew her—really knew her—would’ve picked up on.

“You okay?” Azzi asked, glancing over, her voice light but tinged with concern.

“Mhm,” Paige responded quickly, too quickly. She didn’t meet Azzi’s eyes. “Just… sore. Took a fall during the game the other night.”

Azzi turned slightly, folding one leg beneath her in the seat. “Your shoulder?”

Paige sighed, her jaw tightening. “Yeah. Landed weird on it. It’s fine. Just bruised or something.”

There was a pause, the silence settling between them like fog. Azzi could feel it. The thing they always did—this dance of pretending nothing hurt until it did.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, not accusing, just tired in that way that only comes from missing someone who’s still technically there.

Paige shrugged with her good shoulder. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

Azzi didn’t respond at first. The music in the background shifted to something low and piano-heavy—Daniel Caesar bleeding into H.E.R.—and the ache in her chest bloomed a little bigger.

“You’re not a bother,” she said softly. “Not to me.”

Paige didn’t say anything. But she reached across the console, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s until the brunette laced them together.

The rest of the drive passed quietly, just the warmth of Paige’s hand and the soft hum of music holding them together.

They pull up to Paige’s apartment.

The elevator ride up was quiet. Not awkward—just sleepy. Azzi leaned slightly against the wall, her head tilted to the side as Paige fished her keys out of her jacket pocket. The blonde was clearly favoring her right arm now, movements slow and calculated.

“You need help?” Azzi asked, watching her struggle with the key in the door.

Paige gave a dry chuckle. “Don’t insult me.”

Azzi smirked but didn’t respond. She just stepped inside when the door opened, greeted by the soft scent of vanilla and clean linen. Paige always kept the place minimalist, a reflection of how she liked to keep her life—orderly, neat, controlled. Azzi’s own chaotic energy was always a bit of a contrast, but it had blended into the space over time. A pair of her shoes still by the door. Her favorite mug on the drying rack. A sweatshirt draped over the back of the couch.

“I was gonna clean up,” Paige said as she dropped her bag by the door. “But, you know, bruised ego. Sore arm.”

“You think I care if your throw pillows are fluffed?” Azzi replied, dropping her own bag gently onto the couch.

Paige gave her a small smile, something fond flickering across her face. But then she winced again, subtle but noticeable, as she moved to take off her jacket.

“Okay, nope,” Azzi said, stepping forward. “Let me.”

She helped Paige out of the coat gently, the fabric sliding off her shoulders with effort. The blonde hissed a little as her injured shoulder twisted, and Azzi’s hands immediately stilled.

“You’re sure it’s just bruised?”

“I didn’t go to the trainer.”

Azzi gave her a look. “Of course you didn’t.”

Paige shrugged with her good shoulder. “Didn’t want them to bench me.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. Instead, she reached for the hoodie Paige had been wearing beneath the coat.

“You’re gonna have to take this off too,” she said quietly. “Let me see.”

Paige hesitated, and for a second, Azzi wondered if she’d resist. But then the blonde raised her arms—slowly, painfully—and let Azzi peel the hoodie off like a second skin. Beneath it, she wore a loose tank top, and Azzi’s eyes immediately caught the faint purpling bruise blooming across her shoulder and collarbone.

“Jesus, Paige,” she breathed. “This isn’t nothing.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not the point.”

Azzi carefully guided her to sit on the couch, then disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a heating pad and a bottle of ibuprofen she knew was always tucked in the medicine cabinet. She handed Paige the pills and plugged in the heating pad, sitting beside her as it warmed up.

They sat in silence for a while, the glow of the living room lamps casting soft shadows against the walls. The pad began to hum gently, heat spreading over Paige’s shoulder. Azzi pressed a blanket into her lap, then curled her knees up on the couch, her head resting lightly against Paige’s good shoulder.

“I missed you,” Azzi said eventually, voice quiet.

Paige looked down at her, eyes soft. “I missed you too.”

They stayed like that for a while. No words. Just warmth. Paige with the heating pad pressed gently against her shoulder and Azzi tucked beside her, legs curled up beneath her, body angled just slightly toward the blonde like she couldn’t help it. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty but full. Of unspoken things. Of things they hadn’t let themselves say for months.

Azzi’s thumb moved idly against the soft material of the blanket, mind tracing memories she wasn’t sure she had permission to keep anymore. She could feel Paige breathing—slow, steady—and she closed her eyes for a second, willing herself not to get swept back into whatever this always was between them. Almost something. Always something.

“You can stay, you know,” Paige murmured, voice low, rough around the edges.

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open. “I planned to.”

“No, I mean…” Paige turned slightly, wincing again. “Stay tonight. But like—not just sleep and go. Just… stay. For a while.”

Azzi tilted her head up, surprised. Paige never asked. Not for time. Not for company. She gave it when she had it, and then she was gone again—training, flying, media, whatever. But not this. Not her asking Azzi to stay.

“What’s that mean?” Azzi asked, soft but not tentative.

Paige looked away, lips pressing into a thin line before she answered.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Just… the apartment’s been quiet lately. And everything feels louder when it’s just me. But when you’re here, it’s… I don’t know. Easier.”

Azzi’s chest tightened. She wanted to be angry—because hadn’t she always been the one who stayed, while Paige let her? But then Paige shifted again, just slightly, and her fingers found Azzi’s beneath the blanket. Their hands slid together like puzzle pieces worn soft with time.

“I’ll stay,” Azzi said. “But I’m taking the good pillow.”

Paige let out a quiet laugh—more air than sound. “Deal.”

They ended up on the bed—not in the way they used to be, not tangled in each other or chasing heat in the dark—but side by side, Azzi having changed into her sleep shirt, Paige in a new hoodie that didn’t pull at her shoulder. The lamp on the nightstand cast a dull amber glow across the room, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, low and lazy against the late-night streets.

Azzi lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Paige mirrored her, though her eyes were on Azzi.

“Do you ever think we’re just… bad at timing?” Paige asked quietly.

Azzi blinked, surprised. “All the time.”

“And do you ever think…” She trailed off, her voice catching. “That maybe we’re only like this—when it’s broken. When we’re hurting.”

Azzi turned her head, their eyes meeting in the low light.

“No,” she said, firm but quiet. “I think that’s when we remember we need each other. That’s not the same thing.”

Paige didn’t respond right away, but her gaze didn’t drop. Eventually, she nodded, more to herself than anything else.

“Good,” she whispered. “’Cause I don’t want to forget.”

Azzi reached over and turned off the lamp. The room darkened, and the silence wrapped around them again.

This time, Paige was the one to move first—her good arm draping gently across Azzi’s waist, tentative, like she wasn’t sure she still had the right. Azzi didn’t say anything. She just scooted a little closer and laid her palm over Paige’s hand, grounding them there.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, they both fell asleep easily.

Together.

____

Azzi woke to sunlight.

It poured through the gaps in the curtains, soft and golden, casting faint lines across the white sheets and the wall beyond. For a second, she didn’t remember where she was. Then she shifted slightly, felt the gentle weight of an arm draped across her waist, and everything came rushing back.

Paige. The night. The way they’d just been—no performance, no boundaries, just bodies breathing in sync for the first time in too long.

Azzi blinked against the light, turning slightly to look at her.

Paige was still asleep. Her hair was mussed, falling softly over her forehead, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, the other looped around Azzi like it belonged there. Her expression was unguarded in sleep—lips parted slightly, brows soft, lashes casting little shadows against her cheeks.

Azzi didn’t move.

She didn’t want to.

Instead, she let herself study the woman she had loved in a thousand almosts. Paige always looked so invincible—on the court, in press photos, even just walking down the street in oversized sunglasses and a hoodie like she owned the sidewalk. But like this? With her body curled in the quiet of morning, shoulder still bruised beneath the fabric of her sweatshirt, hand twitching slightly in sleep—she looked real. And Azzi felt something twist in her chest because God, she was still so far gone.

Eventually, Paige stirred. Her fingers flexed gently against Azzi’s waist before her eyes blinked open, hazy and slow.

“Hey,” she whispered, voice rough with sleep.

Azzi smiled. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world hadn’t cracked open yet. No game plans. No studio deadlines. No red-eyes or sponsorship deals. Just the bed. The blankets. The echo of the night before lingering between them.

But then Paige’s phone buzzed.

Once. Twice. Then a third time—longer, insistent. Paige let out a groan, reaching out with her good arm to grab it from the nightstand.

Azzi rolled onto her back, letting her eyes fall to the ceiling as Paige squinted at the screen. There was a pause, and then—

“Hey,” Paige said, already sliding off the bed. “Gimme a sec. I just have to take this. It's my agent.”

Azzi’s stomach dropped, just a little.

She listened as Paige padded out of the bedroom, her socked feet quiet against the hardwood floor. The door stayed open—just enough that Azzi could hear her voice from the living room.

“Yeah, I know… No, I’m fine, just a small thing with the shoulder. I’ll be good by next week... Yeah, I can make it to LA for the shoot... That soon?”

Azzi closed her eyes.

Of course.

The bubble had to pop eventually. It always did.

She sat up slowly, running a hand through her curls, already matted from sleep. Her chest felt tight—not because Paige had done anything wrong, not really. But because it had been so easy, for just a moment, to believe they were building something new. Something that wouldn’t crack under distance or time zones or priorities that never seemed to align.

Paige's voice carried again, muffled but clear.

“I’ll talk to Azzi, yeah. I think we’re... figuring stuff out.”

Azzi froze.

That phrase—figuring stuff out—hit her in the gut more than it should’ve. She knew Paige meant well. She always did. But that was the problem. Paige always hovered in that middle ground. Never let herself name it. Never jumped in all the way.

Azzi wasn’t sure how many more almosts she could take.

She pulled her legs up onto the bed, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to quiet the storm that had started brewing again. It was always like this—sweetness followed by the inevitable sting. Paige was a safe place until she wasn’t.

A few minutes later, Paige walked back in. Her face looked slightly flushed, like she knew the spell had broken too.

“Hey,” she said again, softer this time. “Sorry. It was about the Nike thing. They want to reshoot in LA next week.”

Azzi nodded but didn’t look at her.

“Cool,” she said, voice carefully neutral.

Paige hesitated by the doorway. “I didn’t know they’d move it up. I didn’t say yes yet.”

Azzi gave a tight smile. “You will.”

Another pause. Another silence that said more than either of them were ready to.

“I don’t want to leave things like they were before,” Paige said finally. “I want to figure this out. For real.”

Azzi looked up at her. Her eyes were tired, but steady.

“I need you to stop figuring,” she said gently. “And start choosing.”

Azzi left Paige’s apartment just after nine.

She didn’t say much when she slipped on her coat and gathered her things—just pressed a kiss to Paige’s cheek, lingering for a second longer than necessary. Paige had offered to drive her, but Azzi had gently declined. She said she needed air. What she didn’t say was that she needed space to think. To feel whatever it was she had been pushing down since the second Paige picked her up last night.

The morning was crisp, cool enough that the wind stung slightly when it hit her face. She clutched her small bag to her chest as she walked, head tucked low, letting the hum of the city wrap around her. Car horns. Distant sirens. A bike bell. A dog barking from somewhere nearby. All of it layered over itself like some gritty, living song.

She arrived at the small downtown office space she sometimes used with her creative team—a shared suite lined with plants and windows and half-finished lyrics taped to the walls. Azzi was the only one there this early, which she preferred. It was easier to be honest when no one was watching.

She dropped her bag onto the couch and made herself a coffee from the old French press someone had left behind months ago. The smell filled the room—warm, earthy, grounding.

Her laptop was already on the desk. Her notebook beside it. Pages dog-eared and ink-stained, full of scraps of songs that never quite found their endings.

She stared at the blank page in front of her.

For weeks, the words hadn’t come. Everything had felt too forced, too shallow. Every verse had read like she was trying to trick herself into caring. But this morning, something felt different. Not lighter, exactly—but sharper. Like everything was suddenly in focus. The way Paige had held her. The bruise across her shoulder. The way she had said “I think we’re figuring stuff out” like that was enough.

Azzi reached for her pen before she even realized what she was doing.

She didn’t start with a melody. Not even a verse. Just a single line, scrawled in her messy, looping handwriting:

“You only hold me when you’re aching.”

She paused, staring at it.

Then she kept writing.

“You only call when the silence hurts. I only answer when I’m breaking— we don’t love, we just revert.”

The words came like a slow tide, not a flood—but enough. Enough to feel like something inside her had loosened. Like maybe she didn’t have to wait around for Paige to choose her to start choosing herself.

The door creaked open softly about twenty minutes later, and her manager, Cam, poked his head in. “Hey. Didn’t expect you this early.”

Azzi didn’t look up. “Had a weird night.”

“Productive at least?” he asked, nodding at the notebook.

Azzi finally glanced up at him, a quiet fire in her eyes. “Starting to be.”

Cam gave a small, knowing smile. “That’s all we need.”

____ 

The hours blurred.

Azzi stayed hunched over her notebook, the coffee long gone cold on the desk beside her. She filled two pages before she even noticed her hand cramping slightly from how tightly she was gripping the pen. The words weren't perfect. Hell, some of the lines didn’t even rhyme. But they meant something. For the first time in weeks, it didn’t feel like she was trying to squeeze a feeling out of herself that wasn’t there.

It was already early afternoon by the time she leaned back in her chair, rubbing her wrist absently. She stared at the mess of her handwriting and felt… heavy, but clear. Like she was finally starting to tell the truth. Even if it hurt.

Her phone buzzed on the desk. She glanced at it, expecting some promo email or a spam call, but her stomach dropped when she saw the name:

Paige.

She hesitated.

Last night had been easy. Easier than it should’ve been. But this morning—watching Paige slip back into the life that had always pulled her away—it was like a cold hand wrapping around her chest again.

Still, Azzi picked up.

"Hey," she said, trying to sound casual.

“Hey, Az,” Paige's voice came through, a little breathless, a little uncertain. “Uh... what are you doing right now?”

Azzi glanced around the empty studio space—the sunlight slanting in through the high windows, the echoes of her own restless heart.

"Working," she said simply.

A beat of silence.

“Can I come by?”

Azzi closed her eyes for a second, pressing her fingers to her temple. Paige didn’t usually ask. She just showed up. Like she belonged in every version of Azzi’s life, no matter what.

“Yeah,” Azzi said after a long moment. “I’m downtown, same spot.”

Another pause.

“Okay. Be there in twenty.”

The call ended before Azzi could change her mind.

Twenty minutes later, the studio door creaked open again, and Paige stood there, looking strangely out of place in her sweats and scuffed sneakers, a black baseball cap tugged low over her brow. She had one of those giant iced coffees in hand, the condensation dripping down her fingers.

Azzi didn’t get up. She just raised an eyebrow.

Paige lingered in the doorway, like she wasn’t sure she was invited in after all.

“I brought you one too,” she said lamely, holding out a second drink.

Azzi took it but set it down on the table without tasting it.

Paige shuffled in a few steps, balancing against the table across the small room from Azzi. She looked hesitant, like she was ready to bolt at any second.

"I didn’t mean to make this morning weird," Paige said quietly.

Azzi just looked at her, the silence stretching thick between them.

"I just... I get scared," Paige continued, voice low. “Every time it feels good between us, I get scared. That I’m gonna mess it up. That I’ll choose wrong again. And then I do mess it up, because I’m thinking about it too much instead of just—" she broke off, dragging a hand through her hair. "Instead of just holding onto you."

Azzi swallowed hard, her throat thick.

"You always think you have time," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Paige blinked at her.

"You think you can figure it out later. After the season. After the shoot. After the next flight. But every time you leave, it’s harder for me to believe you’ll come back different."

Paige’s jaw tensed. Her hand twitched like she wanted to reach out, but she didn’t.

“I don’t know how to be good at this,” she said finally, brokenly. “But I don’t want to be good at it with anyone else.”

The rawness of it hit Azzi square in the chest.

She stood up, pushing her chair back with a small scrape of wood on concrete. Paige flinched, but Azzi didn’t move toward the door. She walked over to her guitar case instead, pulling it out of the corner of the room where it leaned, forgotten.

“I wrote something this morning,” Azzi said, adjusting the strap over her shoulder.

Paige straightened a little, hopeful, nervous.

Azzi sat on the edge of the couch and let her fingers fall naturally into the opening chords she’d started sketching out hours ago. The music was simple. Honest. A little rough. She hadn’t planned on sharing it with anyone yet.

But this? This was the only way she knew how to explain.

Her voice cracked slightly on the first line, but she kept going:

“You only hold me when you’re aching, you only call when the silence hurts… I only answer when I’m breaking, we don’t love, we just revert…”

When she finished, the room was so quiet she could hear the faint buzz of the old overhead lights.

Paige���s eyes were shining, but she didn’t say anything right away. She just crossed the space between them, slow and careful, and sat on the floor in front of Azzi, knees brushing hers.

“I don’t want to just revert anymore,” Paige said finally, voice raw. “I want to choose you.”

Azzi stared at her for a long moment, guitar still cradled against her ribs like armor. She wanted so badly to believe her. To fall into her the way she always had.

But this time, she needed Paige to prove it.

Not just say it.

Azzi set the guitar down carefully on the couch beside her.

For a second, she didn’t speak. She just let the silence settle between them, heavy but not unbearable. She studied Paige—really studied her. The way her cap was slightly crooked. The way she sat with her hands open on her knees, like she was offering something invisible, something fragile.

"I don't want to be the thing you run to when you're lonely," Azzi said finally, her voice soft but unflinching. "I want to be the thing you stay for."

Paige's lips parted slightly, like she was going to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she just nodded—small, almost imperceptible, but real.

"I can't..." Azzi exhaled, pressing the heels of her palms against her thighs. "I can't keep doing this half-way. The almosts. The almost home, almost love, almost enough." Her voice shook, just a little, but she kept going. "If you want me... reallywant me... you have to show up. Not when it's easy. Not when you miss me. Every day. Even when it's hard."

Paige’s throat worked as she swallowed.

"I can," she said, so quietly Azzi almost missed it. "I will."

Azzi stared at her, searching her face for any flicker of doubt. She found none. Just that raw, terrified honesty that Paige always tried to cover up with jokes and casual shrugs.

It hit Azzi then—how hard it must have been for her. To admit she didn’t know how to stay. To admit she was scared. Not of Azzi—never of her—but of what it meant to need someone so much.

Paige shifted closer on her knees, so their legs touched fully now.

"I’m scared," she whispered, eyes never leaving Azzi's. "But I’m more scared of losing you."

Azzi felt something crack wide open inside her.

Slowly, she reached out, letting her fingers brush along the edge of Paige’s jaw. Paige leaned into the touch immediately, her breath hitching.

"You’re not gonna lose me," Azzi murmured. "You just have to meet me here."

Paige closed her eyes like the words physically hurt. When she opened them again, they were glassy, full of something deep and endless.

"I love you," she said, voice trembling. "I love you, Az. I think I always have."

The world seemed to tilt around them. The studio, the city outside, the entire universe, all shrinking down to this—this tiny, infinite space between them.

Azzi’s breath caught. She didn’t say anything at first. She just leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Paige’s, their noses brushing.

And then, when she was sure her heart wouldn’t explode from how full it was, she whispered it back.

"I love you too."

It wasn’t a grand declaration. It wasn’t shouted from rooftops or stitched into a song yet. It was a promise made in the quiet, in the space between heartbreak and hope.

And maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.

Paige let out a shaky breath, her hands finding Azzi’s and gripping tight.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. No more half-way.”

Azzi smiled, small but real.

“No more half-way.”

They stayed like that for a long moment—knees pressed together, hands locked, breathing the same air—before Azzi pulled Paige up onto the couch beside her. They sat tangled up in each other, the half-finished song still humming in the background of the day, like a promise they could finally start believing in.

____

For the first time in what felt like months, there was no rush between them. No ticking clock, no unspoken countdown to goodbye.

Paige stayed.

Not just physically, but really stayed.

After the weight of their confessions, Azzi expected a kind of awkwardness to set in—the kind that usually came after they said too much, after vulnerability cracked them open. But it didn’t. Instead, there was a lightness. A kind of tentative peace.

Azzi leaned back against the worn arm of the couch, legs stretched out over Paige’s lap. Paige didn’t seem to mind; she just absently traced small, lazy patterns along Azzi’s calf with her fingertips, like her hands needed to be touching her at all times now, just to make sure she was still there.

Azzi picked up her notebook again, thumbing through the pages. She wasn’t writing anymore, not really. Just letting herself exist in the space she and Paige had built here—messy, bruised, but somehow still standing.

Paige glanced around after a while, taking in the studio with fresh eyes. "You live here or something?" she teased gently, bumping Azzi’s leg with her knee.

Azzi smiled without looking up. "Feels like it sometimes."

"You should eat," Paige said after a beat, voice soft but a little firm in that way she got when she was pretending not to be worried. "You get weird when you don't eat."

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her amusement. "I’m fine."

"Nope. Not buying it. Come on."

Before Azzi could protest, Paige was shifting her legs carefully off her lap and standing. She stretched—arms overhead, shirt riding up slightly to reveal a flash of tan skin—and then offered Azzi her hand.

Azzi hesitated for just a second before taking it.

They walked a few blocks to a tiny corner deli Azzi liked, one that Paige always pretended was “too sketchy” but secretly loved because they made the best egg sandwiches in the city.

Inside, it smelled like bacon grease and fresh bagels. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead. Azzi ordered a sandwich with avocado and turkey bacon; Paige got a greasy, overstuffed BLT and a bag of salt and vinegar chips.

They sat by the window, the city sprawling out in front of them, afternoon sun glinting off car roofs and apartment windows.

Paige unwrapped her sandwich sloppily and took a huge bite. Azzi laughed under her breath as the blonde tried—and failed—to keep tomato from sliding out the side.

"You’re a mess," Azzi said, shaking her head.

Paige just grinned, mouth full. "You love it."

Azzi ducked her head, blushing. "Unfortunately."

They ate in easy silence for a while, trading bites, stealing sips from each other’s iced coffees without asking. Paige doodled on a napkin with a blue pen she pulled from her pocket—terrible little stick figures of the two of them, complete with what she claimed were guitars and basketballs.

Azzi snorted when she saw the final product. "You’re artistically challenged."

"Hey," Paige protested, mock-offended. "That’s our album cover right there."

Azzi smiled so hard her cheeks hurt.

She couldn’t remember the last time it had been this easy. The last time she hadn’t been waiting for Paige to look at her phone or check the time or make some excuse to leave.

Paige was just... here. With her.

Choosing her.

When they finished eating, Paige reached across the table, her thumb brushing a crumb from the corner of Azzi’s mouth. It was such a small thing, such a nothing thing—and yet it made Azzi’s heart stutter painfully in her chest.

Paige’s hand lingered, fingers sliding lightly along Azzi’s jaw, like she couldn’t help herself.

"I meant it," she said, voice low, almost shy. "What I said before."

Azzi caught her hand, holding it there against her cheek.

"I know," she whispered.

And for the first time in a long, long while—Azzi let herself believe it.

____

By the time they made it to Azzi’s apartment, choosing the brunettes place tonight for a change of scenery, the sky had deepened into a soft purple, city lights starting to flicker awake.

Paige kicked off her sneakers by the door without thinking, like it was second nature, and Azzi trailed behind her, dropping her bag with a muted thud.

The apartment still smelled faintly of vanilla candles and Azzi’s floral shampoo—the comforts of home—but the energy was different now. Calmer. More theirs somehow, not just Azzi’s.

Paige wandered into the living room, picking up one of Azzi’s records from the perfectly neat vinyl shelf. She turned it over in her hands, then shot Azzi a soft smile over her shoulder.

"Want me to put something on?"

Azzi nodded, already toeing off her Uggs and tugging her oversized sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in a simple ribbed tank top underneath. She plopped down onto the couch, curling her legs underneath her, watching as Paige carefully slid a record onto the player.

Soft, crackling acoustic guitar filled the room—the kind of music that made everything slow down, even time.

Paige dropped down onto the couch beside her, not bothering with any distance this time. Their thighs pressed together naturally, warmly. Paige let out a quiet sigh, her body relaxing into the cushions.

They sat there for a few minutes, just breathing, the music wrapping around them like a blanket. Azzi leaned her head against Paige’s shoulder without thinking about it, and Paige turned slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of her head.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate or tinged with fear like it used to be. It was steady. Sure.

Azzi closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the feeling.

"I miss this," she murmured into Paige’s sweatshirt. "I miss us."

Paige's hand found hers, fingers intertwining with a kind of quiet reverence.

"We’re right here," Paige whispered back.

After a while, Azzi shifted so she was tucked completely against Paige's side, her hand splayed over Paige’s heart. She could feel the steady thud beneath her palm, grounding her.

"You know," Paige said after a long stretch of silence, her voice low and a little sheepish, "I still have that stupid necklace you gave me before my rookie season."

Azzi pulled back just enough to look up at her. "The one with the little A on it?"

Paige flushed a little, nodding. "Yeah. I keep it in my bag. Even when I'm traveling. Even when... when we weren't really talking. It just—felt wrong to leave it behind."

Azzi's heart clenched so painfully she thought she might cry.

"You're such a sap," she whispered, blinking quickly.

Paige smiled, slow and crooked and full of everything she never used to say out loud.

"For you? Always."

Azzi ducked her head again, letting her forehead rest against Paige’s collarbone. They stayed like that, breathing each other in, the record turning lazily in the background.

At some point, Azzi must have drifted off because when she blinked her eyes open again, the room was darker, the only light coming from the window where the city glittered beyond the glass.

Paige had adjusted them at some point, laying them down properly along the couch. Azzi was half on top of her, one arm thrown across Paige’s middle, their legs tangled together. Paige’s hand was still rubbing slow, lazy circles against Azzi’s back, her breathing even and steady.

Azzi shifted a little, burying her face deeper into Paige’s sweatshirt.

“Stay,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Paige pressed another soft kiss to her hair, whispering against her curls, "Always."

Azzi smiled into Paige’s chest, her whole body sinking into the kind of peace she hadn’t felt in what felt like a lifetime.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

[starcandybby]

rings and realizations

haechan x reader

summary: while shopping with Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun on a rare day off, Haechan lingers to long at the jewelry store which prompts questions and encouragement.

minors pls dni

warnings: shitty writing, reader is only in a flashback. reader has she/her pronouns, FLUFF, talks of marriage and engagements, 00z tease haechan but he takes it like a champ, haechan is referred to as donghyuck in this because I can, italics are flashbacks!

─────── ౨ৎ ─────── ౨ৎ ───────

It's a rare day off for Donghyuck. In between NCT Dream and 127 schedules, he'd be lucky to sleep in before practice. But an entire day off? Maybe once in a blue moon- and probably not even that often.

Donghyuck would have liked to spend the day with you- preferably in bed, maybe playing video games with you nestled between his legs. However, much to his dismay, when you heard Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun invited Donghyuck to go shopping, you encouraged him to join them.

"Baby," Hyuck huffed, "I see them all the time. I don't need to go shopping with them."

"But, working with them is different! When was the last time you spent some quality time with them- without the pressure of cameras and practice and idol life?" You returned, soft but firm.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, knowing you were 100% right. It is different spending time with his friends without the context of their jobs; it was more natural. He didn't feel like he had to embody the persona of Haechan from NCT. It was freeing. But, Donghyuck was also stubborn. What was so wrong about wanting to spend time with his girlfriend on a rare day off?

"Plus!" You continued, only encouraged by his eye-roll, "You've been so focused on 127 activities, you probably haven't seen them in a few weeks." A pause, "And, passing them in the company building doesn't count Hyuck." A soft smile graced your lips when you finished, letting him know that you were teasing him. If he really didn't want to go, you would drop the subject and welcome him with open arms on his day off.

"Yeah, yeah fine I'll go." You smile grew at your boyfriends response. "But! I get to sleep in, I want to have lunch and dinner together, and I want extra cuddles after dinner."

Your smile was extra wide now, causing the end of Donghyuck's lips to slightly turn up, unmasking his attempt at being serious.

"It's a deal!" And you sealed it with a kiss on his cheek.

So, here he was. At a luxury department store that was seemingly deserted when the four idols arrived. He suspects Jaemin and Renjun had a hand in that. He's half listening to the three discuss what stores they want to stop in; the other half of him is wondering which stores he'd like to stop in himself. Donghyuck isn't committed to a particularly style or brand; if he likes a piece, he'll buy it.

God, he misses you. And, at this moment, he really misses shopping with you, and how your eyes would light up when you really liked a clothing item on him or how you'd get all shy when he returned the compliments.

"Let's stop by Ferragamo first?" Renjun's question snaps Donghyuck out of his daydream. The younger one nodded and followed the three others.

-

Donghyuck hated to admit that you were right. (You always are). But spending time with his brothers felt good. There was no pressure; they could be themselves.

So far, Donghyuck had picked up a few things for himself- new glasses frames, a belt, and a new shirt. For you, he found a luxury purse and matching bracelets for you both. Anniversary gifts secured.

Now, the four men found themselves in Tiffany & Co. Jaemin had mentioned wanting to find some accessories for an upcoming event. While Renjun and Jaemin talk with the sales associate, Donghyuck decides to wander around the store.

He wasn't looking for anything in particular; he had enough jewelry at home and he's not sure Tiffany & Co is his style anyway. So, he just walks around the display cases to pass the time.

Donghyuck has seen so many diamond necklaces, bracelets, and earrings that they're all starting to blur together.

Until, he stumbles upon three display cases of rings.

He almost just walks by but something sturs in his chest seeing the diamond rings. A feeling that tells him to stop, even for just a second.

Donghyuck's eyes move over the rings, taking note of all the different cuts, sizes, and styles.

And he finally caves.

He lets himself imagine which ring would look best sitting on the finger of your left hand.

Which one would you like? What does your dream engagement ring look like?

You two had never discussed marriage or your weddings in depth. But, phrases like: "in our first home", "our kids" , and "when we're married" were nog uncommon in such casual conversations about your futures.

Donghyuck was sure hopeful that you would say yes to his proposal, someday.

His eyes continued to move across the display cases, his brain analyzing what you might like or dislike about each ring. He doesn't even notice a faint shadow that appears next to him.

"Getting married soon are we?" Jeno asks smugly. Donghyuck need not to even look at the man to know the teasing smile he's sporting. He's too in his head right now to play along, so he ignores Jeno's question.

"Do you see any that you think she'll like?" He asks; voice coming through serious, almost as an attempt to mask any kind of vulnerability that might lie in it.

Thankfully, Jeno picks up Donghyuck's vocal queue and drops any teasing remarks he may have had prepared. He starts to assess the rings as closely as Donghyuck.

Jeno points out some rings that Donghyuck agrees you'll like. The latter continues to eye the pieces of jewelry while the former now observes his best friend.

Donghyuck. Engaged.

When Jeno first met you, first saw how you and his brother interacted, he knew you were it for him. He just didn't know that his friend was so serious about it so soon.

Soon? Well, you and Donghyuck have been dating for 2 years now, Jeno muses.

"Didn't know you were thinking about asking." Jeno tries to casually begin. He wants Donghyuck to be honest, but he doesn't want to broach the topic too seriously for his best friend to close off.

"I wasn't but I am now." Donghyuck absentmindedly answers, eyes still trained on the rings. But, Jeno doesn't miss the way his eyebrows pinch together and how his fingers can't seem to stay still, always fidgeting in some way.

"How soon?" Jeno continues.

"Not yet." Donghyuck replies.

A moment passes, and another.

"But soon."

Jeno's lips curl up at that. And this is his queue to shift to a more teasing tone.

"Our Hyuckie is getting married!" He shakes Donghyuck's shoulders, finally pulling him away from staring down Tiffany's many rings.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and shakes Jeno off him, "And you're not going to be the best man so don't even ask."

Jeno feigns shock, "If I beg to Y/N, she'll make you make me the best man."

"I can resist her no problem."

To this Jeno howls in laughter, catching the attention of the other two as they make their way over, shopping bags in hand.

"What's so funny?" Renjun asks, eyebrows raised at Jeno.

“Hyuck just said he can resist Y/N!” Jeno said; words paired with a teasing smile.

"Ah! You're funny." Jaemin lightly slaps Donghyuck's arms, in which he rolls his eyes and freigns annoyance.

But, it's Renjun who notices the merchandise before them, making the connection quite quickly.

"Are you proposing to Y/N?!" Renjun asks, holding a tone of surprise, yet excitement.

Donghyuck feels too shy to confirm Renjun's suspicions confidently. But, his bashful smile and avoidance of eye contact tells the older brother all he needs to know.

"Are you serious?" It's Jaemin's turn to become excited, eyes sparkling at the thought of Donghyuck getting married, to you no less.

The fiancé-to-be nods and rubs the back of his neck.

"It's seriously no big deal. Plus, it won't even happen for a while. I want to wait until everything calms down. So no need to get all excited..." Donghyuck says sternly. But his brothers know better.

As he was rambling, Renjun, Jaemin, and Jeno's smiles only grew. Donghyuck is nervous. They're sure they can count the number of times they've seen him this nervous on one hand.

"Okay, okay. We get it. We'll leave it alone." Renjun lets it go for Donghyuck's sake and starts to lead the group out of the store.

Jeno and Donghyuck trail behind the other two. The older one can't help but get one last comment in:

"She'll say yes, you know?"

To this, Donghyuck doesn't say anything. But, Jeno doesn't miss the blush that blooms on his cheeks.

─────── ౨ৎ ─────── ౨ৎ ───────

disclaimer: This is purely fiction- nothing in these works reflect real of these people.

a/n: ahhh thank you for reading! I'm in my hyuck feels as always. I wanted to write something small to get me back into writing a little bit. likes, reblogs, and comments are always always appreciated <3

[eeveestarstudios-blog]

I don't recommend dolldivines game: anime dress up.

The game I played was littered with ads and scams, was very laggy, and seemed like the typical "hey look! We have references to [insert popular trend character]!" Game to me (no joke. They literally just threw pomni, the Disney princesses, princess peach, miku, Anya, and Cardcaptor Sakura in there...)

Also, when I clicked on a skin color (or any color customization) it was way less saturated when it shows up on the avatar. It LOOKS like there are many options, but all the dark skin tones look grayish and very light, and I was lucky that there was one that looked a little like my skin tone. This is a pretty bad problem that was already in picrew where they don't have many options (or even no options) for people with dark skin tones. The hair did this too. Anything dark would show up very light and grayish.

The buttons also would sometimes not work. When I pressed the gift boxes that showed up, the hearts didn't add to my heart counter. They just disappeared, making these a waste of time. Sometimes, when I clicked clothing, it didn't work until I spammed the button. (This would even make an ad show up, and I would accidentally click on it and go to the website...)

Speaking of ads, it's worse than picrew. You'll see one while you're doing anything, and you won't get rewards at all. I've seen some ads that were less than a minute apart, which speaks for itself. (And yes, I get that some games must show ads to keep things free, but an ad every minute is a little bit overkill.)

There was also this ad that FORCED ME OUT OF THE SITE, took me to this scam website, and when I clicked out of it, it kicked me out of the game and I had to reboot. This kind of scared me and made me question how safe this was.

Basically it's just not very good. I know I only played a bit so it may just be on my end, but I didn't like this game and I feel like it's not a good alternative to picrew. I'm sure the rest of the site isn't like this, but this game kind of upset me.

Update: played a few others to see if the rest of the website was like this. No it's not. That game is just dangerous. Every other game I played wasn't bad at all and had none of the problems stated here. The WEBSITE is a good alternative, but the anime dress up game is NOT.

I still think the most devastating enshittification I've ever seen has been picrew. One of the few dress-up game websites left that's not flash-based and it's become DRENCHED in ads. You can't open the home screen without being blasted by at least three or four ads. You can't open two picrews in a row without watching a video ad first. When you have a picrew open the ads cover up the different options and sometimes even stack on each other so you have to hit like 2 or 3 different x buttons to get it to go away, only for more to appear seconds later. Evil world

[kyuuppi]

private server (1/?)

Pairing: Kenma x reader (she/her)

Tags: slow burn (?), internet friends to lovers, reader is a corporate slave with social anxiety, Kenma is a bit sassy and bad with feelings, lots of game references (Minecraft, DBD, Marvel Rivals, etc.), vtuber stereotypes, modern au

Words: 2.7k

Every 7pm after work, you boot up your old laptop and log onto Discord, where you begin a voice call in the private server only the two of you share. Kenma seems to have a natural sense for what you want to play just by hearing your tone when you greet him.

On your good nights, he allows you to practice duoing in the FPS games he’s known for playing. He takes on the role of support without a single complaint while you play DPS, regardless of how badly you feed. If anyone on the enemy team calls out your poor performance, Kenma makes it a point to repeatedly kill them in the most triggering ways.

On the nights you come on exhausted from a rough day at work, Kenma wordlessly boots up Stardew Valley or Minecraft, allowing the two of you to relax to the soundtrack in a comfortable silence.

Something about his quiet presence always eases your mind, and more often than not, you find yourself rambling about the things on your mind while the two of you play. The annoying habits of your coworkers, your biggest fears, the new dressing you tried on your salad at lunch–you end up eventually spilling everything to him while he quietly listens, occasionally making a soft hum or comment that lets you know he’s still there. 

In the beginning, you always worried that you were talking too much and boring this famous internet celebrity with the inconsequential details of your boring life. The moment you realized you were ranting, you’d suddenly cut yourself off with an embarrassed apology.

But that’s when Kenma would surprise you the most–rather than allowing the call to fall into the silence he seemed so comfortable with, he would ask a question so specific, and often related to a past bit of information you forgot you even told him, that it becomes clear he was listening to every word from the beginning. 

It was one of the things that made you realize you liked him more than you should. 

Kenma’s calm disposition had you confiding in him about thoughts you hadn’t even told your best friends, and he never made you feel judged or insignificant for them. Although he almost never started conversations, he always answered any questions you asked with a level of openness that surprised you, like he trusted you just as much as you trusted him. 

Even if–per the extensive searches you did on Twitter, Reddit, and even 4chan–you were 97% sure Kenma was single, you doubted he was interested in dating anyone, let alone dating someone like you who seemed to live in a completely different reality from him.

As your feelings developed, you spent more time than you’d like to admit imagining what type of partner would suit Kenma.

Of course, they would have to be someone with extensive video game knowledge who could match his own. Probably a professional gamer or maybe someone who worked in the industry. The long-haired gamer girls with high-pitched voices and hyper-pink bedrooms who frequently appear in your feed came to mind. All of them had dedicated fan bases full of men and women alike praising their good looks and fun personalities. Many were more than just pretty faces but also great gamers–certainly much better than you in nearly every metric. 

But somehow you struggled to picture Kenma–who spoke in soft low tones and wore the same black hoodie nearly every stream–dating any of them. 

You had considered some VTubers as well – you knew Kenma was mutuals with several big names and occasionally retweeted their merch drops. But that theory died after one particular conversation you had with Kenma over a casual Minecraft session. Feeling particularly insecure, you asked him about his thoughts on a trending busty bunny VTuber all your male coworkers had been chattering about over lunch, to which he responded with a deadpan, “she’s probably just another middle-aged man catfishing simps like most of them are.”  

The only remaining option you could see was some mystery person he knew in real life–perhaps a childhood friend or another streamer who mutually agreed to keep the relationship private.

In one of the rare times Kenma spoke to you about the people he knows in real life, he mentioned an “annoying” childhood friend who is always coming over to his house uninvited and an old rival from high school who now plays professional volleyball in Brazil. While you questioned the likeliness of such a long distance relationship between a professional athlete and a famous streamer, the fondness with which Kenma spoke of him made your chest feel hot with envy. For your own sake, you stopped contemplating Kenma’s romantic life after that and resigned yourself to just savoring the few hours of his time you get every night. 

The first shift in your friendship began in late April.

As a result of one of your coworkers falling sick with the flu, your supervisor assigned you to a cross-country business trip at the last minute. The abrupt shift in responsibilities from you background role in information management to direct client contact overwhelmed you and your usual routine with your internet crush was the last thing on your mind as you raced to pack an overnight suitcase and research clients you had never dealt with before. 

For the first time since you began talking to Kenma three months ago, you missed a gaming session without so much as a message. 

The trip ended up being busier than you had expected even with the support of your coworker who patiently led you through some of the more complicated business etiquette.

By the time you reached your hotel room late that first night, you were exhausted. Still, you had attempted to install the Discord app on your phone to at least give Kenma an apology for your absence. Discord was the only way contact information the two of you had of each other and up until now you had even preferred it that way, You were very intentional in keeping your Twitter where you retweet rather spicy anime fanart and K-pop idol abs top secret from him–not that his verified account with 300k followers would ever follow you back in the first place. 

However, the spotty hotel WiFi proved incompatible with Discord’s large file size, and you gave up after half an hour, stuck at 3% downloaded.  As you closed your heavy eyelids for the night, you mentally assured yourself that Kenma would understand your sudden absence–he is incredibly busy most of the day with his own business and recently complained about an upcoming collaboration with a famous clothing brand that has been demanding a large chunk of his time. He might be so busy himself that he doesn’t even notice you’re gone.

With that thought in mind, you drift out of consciousness to get a few hours of rest before your morning meetings. 

Three days later–two days longer than planned due to a misplaced thumbdrive and storm weather delaying flights–you find yourself finally on the familiar last train back to your apartment.

You twist your ankle restlessly in your work shoes, heels aching from being on your feet for the better part of the week. You utilize the half hour of freetime to finally check your socials. Several unopened emails from online shop subscriptions sat at the top of your personal email inbox, a few life updates from your friends in your texts, and an upcoming world tour from your favorite idols on Twitter. You make a mental note to respond to a group chat about everyone’s availability for the next “charcuterie board night” tomorrow morning. 

The last app you check is Instagram, expecting the usual posts from your college friends on vacations abroad or getting engaged that usually fill you with a sense of envy you don’t like to dwell on. You’re slightly surprised to see the note of a follow request and subsequent new message request in your DMs. You expect the usual influencer scam or sugar daddy bot expressing “interest in your page”. Instead, you see a very brief set of messages from a profile with no picture.

19:42 @ kodzu_ken2: hey this is kenma from discord

Your heart flutters despite yourself as you keep reading.

19:43 @ kodzu_ken2: u havent been online in a while…r u ok?

20:01 @ kodzu_ken2: we dont have to play ofc, we can just talk if ur tired

20:06 @ kodzu_ken2: or if u dnt wanna talk we can just b quiet in call

Kodzuken does not have an official Instagram–you know that for a fact because it was one of the first places you tried to follow him when a clip of his streams first came across your feed. And even if he did, you never shared your own Instagram handle with him so there was no way for him to follow you as your Discord name was completely different.

You tap on the default grey profile picture to his page and it is empty as expected. His bio and name are both left blank with 0 posts, 0 followers, and 0 following–evidence of a brand new profile.

In any other circumstance you would think it was a scam–perhaps one of the thousands of unofficial “kodzuken” pages on Instagram posting fanart and meme edits of the man. But the way of typing–from the shorthand to the word choice are so clearly the Kenma you’ve spent the past 3 months talking to. Moreover, your absence from your regular game sessions is something only Kenma would know about–not even your closest friends know that you’ve secretly been hanging out with a famous steamer. 

You’re typing back a reply before you realize it. 

22:46 @ yn_tofu: Hi Ken!! Sorry I didn’t message you sooner, I got forced into a business trip last minute at work 😵‍💫 I just got back to Tokyo a few hours ago

You nearly drop your phone when the message status immediately changes to “Read.”

@ kodzu_ken2 is typing…

22:47 @ kodzu_ken2: its ok 

You chuckle quietly at how Kenma his brief response is. An elderly man seated across from you shoots you an odd look before going back to his novel. 

22:47 @ kodzu_ken2: do u wanna play tonight?

Startled, you glance up at the information panel above the train door.  Five more stops until your station–then the trek to your apartment with a suitcase–even if you speed walk it’ll take at least another half hour until you’re seated in front of your computer. Your sessions with Kenma are usually well over by then–you finishing your night routine to prepare for bed then work the next day and Kenma starting his regular nighttime streaming session. Your chest clenches in preemptive disappointment.

22:49 @ yn_tofu: I would love to but I won’t be home for another 30 min 😭 

22:49 @ kodzu_ken2: thats ok. ill wait for u

You barely muffle a frustrated screech at how your heart skips a beat over the last sentence. The old man pointedly shoots you a glare before standing as the train comes to a stop. He shuffles off and the train doors shutter closed behind him as you clumsily type your reply. 

22:50 @ yn_tofu: Are you sure??? Don’t you start streaming around that time? I don’t wanna make you late or anything… ;;

22:51 @ kodzu_ken2: my stream is cancelled today

Cancelled? You feel your brows knit in concern as the train jolts to a start. It is rare that Kodzuken cancels a stream–in fact you can’t recall a single instance since you’ve known him. He generally plans his schedules several weeks in advance, posting the upcoming month’s schedule on the last Friday of the month without fail. When he takes vacations–like the time he told you he was going to Brazil to see his friend’s volleyball tournament, your brain mercilessly reminds you–he still streams for at least an hour from his temporary lodging.

22:51 @ yn_tofu: Oh no, did something happen? :( 

22:52 @ yn_tofu: I thought this week you’re playing that new Marvel Rivals game everyone requested…

As the train rolls to another stop you absently realize he’s taking a little longer to reply now. That’s fine of course–you’re just one of his many fans, maybe a casual Discord friend at best. He’s under no obligation to reply right away. 

22:56 @ kodzu_ken2: no, just dnt feel like it today. ill make up for it tomorrow

22:57 @ yn_tofu: Oh yeah? How do you plan to do that?

22:57 @ yn_tofu: Are you gonna finally do that Nagi from Blue Lock cosplay all your fans have been begging for? :p 

22:57 @ kodzu_ken2: ew no way in hell

22:58 @ kodzu_ken2: ill just spam that venom twerking emote in lobby. pretty sure thts the only reason ppl wanted me to stream tht game anyway 😐

You laugh out loud at both Kenma’s rare use of emoji and the mental image of him, blank-faced, spamming the infamous twerking emote in a stream while his chat goes crazy. 

22:58 @ yn_tofu: Idk kinda sus that was your first thought, Ken 🤨

22:58 @ yn_tofu: Its okay to admit you like Venom’s ass, this is a safe space 🫶

22:59 @ kodzu_ken2: i just gagged

22:59 @ kodzu_ken2: im not like u, i dont buy dlc just to stare at charas asses all game

23:00 @ yn_tofu: Omg I told you I did NOT buy Pyramid Head for his ass!! He is actually a really good killer…

23:00 @ kodzu_ken2: idk kinda sus that he was your first thought 🤨

23:00 @ yn_tofu: I hope you remember this convo when I’m kicking your ass in Smash in 20 min >:(

“Now arriving at Asakusabashi Station. The doors on the right side will open.”

The call of your station on the speakers jolts you out of your conversation and you scramble to gather your bags as the train doors open. 

Even rolling a stuffed suitcase and wearing heels you reach your apartment in record time, eager to hear Kenma’s voice for the first time in three days. Stripping off the top layers of your business suit, you don’t bother unpacking anything and just leave your bags, blazer, and shoes in a pile at the front door before taking the three steps to get to the desk next to your bed. 

You tap your bare foot impatiently while the fans of your ancient laptop loudly whirl to life. For once Discord seems not to require an update to open and you click the call button next to Kenma’s name without hesitation. 

He picks up in the first ring. 

“Hi,” you greet into your headset. You aren’t sure if it's from the excitement of talking to Kenma or the three flights of stairs you just hiked up but your voice sounds embarrassingly breathy to your own ears. 

“Hey,” he replies as coolly as usual. The familiar sounds of buttons click faintly in his background. Your chest feels warm and a tension you didn’t know you had leaves your shoulders as you relax into your swivel chair. 

“On my trip I saw some really cool architecture–Kyushu kinda looks like how I imagine Germany–anyway, I was thinking we can make a little cathedral for that empty space in our minecraft world we were talking about last week–”

“We can do that later.”

You bite your tongue, caught off guard by the abrupt dismissal. Wasn’t he the one who asked you to play with him tonight? Did you misunderstand something?

“Is your Switch charged?” He asks.

Said device sits conveniently plugged in at the corner of your desk when you glance over. 

“Uh, yeah.”

“Hurry up and log on then. I heard someone is planning to ‘kick my ass in Smash’ tonight and there’s a new Robin combo I’ve been wanting to test out,” Kenma drawls.

You can practically feel the smirk in his voice and you loudly groan as you reach for your Switch and mentally prepare for the inevitable slaughter.

a/n: Thank you for reading!! This is the first thing I've written in like a year ?? so ik its prob not great. :,,) When I start writing I usually just start with one scene and see where it goes then think of what character would fit the writing best but it almost always ends up being Kenma LOL. I fear he is truly my default.

[jelloapocalypse]

If I'm not mistaken (and I fully could be so please let me know if I am) but didn't you used to be much closer to 2 million subscribers? I swear I remember seeing you at like 1.98 or something.

Either way, is there a good way to support you on Youtube? Or is that something I shouldn't worry about too much? Do you know if there's a good way to promote your videos to the algorithm that will have a good effect?

I've been hovering in the 1.8-1.9M range for like ~3 years or so now. The internet as it is now only boosts consistent uploads that are 15+ minutes long or TikTok-style vertical videos that are <2 minutes long with captions.

I don't do either of those and I have no interest in pivoting my stuff in that direction, so I think it's likely I'll probably never hit 2 million. It is what it is.

Subscribers have mattered less and less over the years. I remember them feeling really valuable in like... maybe pre-2015 when your subscriptions were at the top of your homepage and they prioritized showing you the stuff you said you were actually interested in, but now the sub page is super buried and unless you sign up for individual notifications from a channel you probably won't even know they uploaded anymore.

The internet is a slave to algorithms now. Stuff gets popular pretty much entirely independent of subscription count.

Jenny Nicholson and Hbomb are two of my favorite YouTubers who make absolutely incredible marathon-length videos once or twice a year (which is the exact type of thing you'd want subscriptions for), and even though both of them have been putting out mega-viral documentary-length videos every year for the last three years or so, their sub counts haven't exploded. People write articles on the things they make, in real publications too. New York Times and HuffPost shit. Yet both of them have less subs than me. Jenny has 1.3M and Hbomb has 1.8M which is insane. They should both be at like 3M+ easily for the stuff they make, and if they had the popularity they do now back in 2012, they probably would have the equivalent to that.

By the same token, I have a streaming channel that I do fully-voiced readthroughs of games on and there are people who try to watch almost every stream that often show up late and complain about how YouTube never notifies them. They had to hear about it via a friend on Discord even though they're subscribers AND they have notifications on. Being subscribed quite literally does not do anything these days.

It's worth noting that YT subs aren't really reflective of a channel's overall "health", if you want to call it that. My streaming channel has been doing really well the last two months. We played Danganronpa for charity and had the best viewership we ever got with 1100-1600 viewers for any given episode, which is really high. That's like Top 0.1% of Twitch numbers. We also get a ton of donations and artwork from our fans and watch time is up 40% from the last month right now. Forty percent. That's crazy!

But our sub count keeps dropping. We lose about 100 subscribers a month, for whatever reason. But isn't that weird? That literally every other metric on your channel can be skyrocketing while subscribers go down? It seems like they really don't matter.

We've had over 100k subscribers for a year and a half now, but YouTube still hasn't mailed us that plaque. I doubt they ever will. I'd be surprised if anyone on their staff even checks that anymore. Today's internet is focused on keeping viewers moving to new content and showing them as many ads as possible while they do it. There isn't as much of a benefit to keeping someone watching one particular person anymore.

I appreciate you trying to support us! I think just watching our stuff when you feel like it and maybe showing your favorite videos to friends every once in awhile if you think they'll like it is the best thing you can do. If even one person ends up watching and binging all my Epithet stuff that's like 6 hours of watchtime right there.