#they really do just all say the same shit over and over

[theminecraftbee]

Grian sits on the edge of a desert cliff, watching the sunrise. His knuckles are bloody. He's had this dream before, and he's lived this moment before. He's awfully tired of it, honestly. He's not even particularly sad anymore. It's hard to be particularly sad, this long after, this much more between them.

But his knuckles are bloody again. There's someone sitting next to him.

"Joel?" he says, baffled.

"Yeah, hi, really weird bloody dreamscape you've got. Literally and figuratively: bloody hell. Like, Scott, he's got this pretty cottage and all these flowers and the single most terrifying version of Jimmy that I've seen in my life. Which serves him right, since he's a bastard, and I told him that. Or, uh, Pearl. She's normal. She's got dogs and... shit, I don't know--"

"Why are you here?" Grian asks.

"Oh, right, I was tasked with asking you if you regret it," Joel says.

There's a long moment of silence. The wind blows.

"I mean. No?" Grian says.

"Right? That's what I said! Blumin' stupid question, that!" Joel says.

"Wait, you mentioned--are you asking everyone that?" Grian asks.

"Yeah! It was all, oh, you've got a car, you can travel, it'll be all poetic like. You've had a 'character arc'--like I'm some, some fake guy--and grown as a person, everyone else has to, would they do things differently now? And I said, man, that's stupid. That's really stupid. But the glowing purple eyes guys--"

"Wait wait wait wait, the who?" Grian interrupts.

"Sorry, do you not know the glowing purple eyes guys? Martyn was acting like you're all buddies or something. Then I punched him. Because it was funny," Joel says.

"No, I know the--they asked you to do this?" Grian says. He takes a moment to try to imagine it. He has some trouble. Joel and the Watchers don't really belong in the same place at the same time for so many reasons that Grian doesn't know where to begin.

"Apparently, I'm not being serious enough," Joel informs Grian. "I kinda get it, actually. Like, everyone but Cleo has been somewhere like..."

Joel looks out over the cliff. It is tall, and Grian knows he cannot see the ground from the top. He had been able to during the actual games, of course, but these aren't the actual games; these are the memories of what brought him to victory, made manifest.

"So I guess I kinda wondered, since you lot always seem so blumin' sad about it," Joel finishes.

"I'm not really," Grian says.

Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, maybe once, but--nah. Not really."

"Cool. That's the last one then," Joel says. "Hear that, weird glowing eyes guys? You act like I'm all weird or whatever but none of them regret it either. Not a single one of them."

Grian looks over the cliff again himself.

"None of us?" he asks, very quietly indeed.

Joel sighs. "All of you asked that too. I'm getting back in the bloody car."

Grian doesn't watch Joel leave. He rubs the blood off his knuckles and watches the sky instead. When he's tired thinking in circles about how he didn't really expect that he would be telling the truth, just then, he starts trying to imagine the trouble Joel might be giving everyone else instead. It's much more fun to think about than the sand that's getting in his socks. He's never able to get sand out of anything, these days, and it leaves him always just a little bit uncomfortable. Oh well; the price of being in a desert. He wouldn't be anywhere else if he had the choice, though, grit in his socks or not.

[hauntedfawnn]

۶♡ৎ Ex!Boyfriend!Rafe Eating Your Ass ۶♡ৎ

Cheating (not on reader), ass eating, fingering, choking, hair pulling, daddy kink, spit kink, anal, possessiveness, Rafe and reader are low key toxic for each other 18+MDNI!

(I read this fic by @novashelby and it had me really thinkin bout ass eating so shout out to her for thaaaat)

“I knew you fuckin’ missed me, baby.” You can hear the smirk on Rafe’s voice even if you can’t see it. He has you face down on his expensive sheets with his large hand pressing the side of your head into the mattress. “You might not want to admit it, but how wet your pussy is for me, says it all.”

Rafe chuckles as he kneels behind you, running his fingers through your dripping folds. You hate that he’s right, you always end up bent over for him no matter how many times you tell yourself it’s the last time. He always pulls you back.

“You know you can’t stay away from me. You always come runnin’ back for more.” Rafe dips the tips of his fingers into your dripping cunt before running his wet fingers on your clit. He teases your pussy with his thumb, letting you get lost in the pleasure long enough to pull it away from you and land a harsh smack on your clit. It makes you squeal and try to close your legs on instinct but Rafe keeps them open with his knee. “It’s cause you know that lil boyfriend of yours will never fuck you like I do.”

“You don’t know anything about him-“ Rafe lands another harsh smack on your pussy and laughs at the way you squirm and squeal.

“Yeah? I know if he was keeping you satisfied you wouldn’t be bent over like a fuckin’ whore for me.” He smacks your pussy again, this time following it with a spank so hard on your ass you’re sure it left an immediate handprint. “Plus you’re drippin’ f’me.”

Rafe runs the tips of his fingers along your pussy, wetting them with your juices. He traces your lips and your clit before sliding his hand up to your asshole and circling it with his pointer finger. “Bet you don’t let him play with your ass, do you, baby? This hole is just for daddy, right?”

“Raaafe, Shut up.” You whine into the mattress, embarrassed by the truth in his words. You told your new boyfriend you weren’t into anal when the truth was you just weren’t into it with anyone that wasn’t Rafe. There’s a lot of things you only trust him to do and that’s why you can’t give him up. He’s so fucking toxic but he fucks you like he loves you and hates you all in the same vein and it’s like you’re addicted to him. Rafe spanks you with his free hand, pulling a little yelp from you that makes his cock jump.

“Drop the fuckin’ attitude, doll. That shit might fly with your gamer bitch boy boyfriend, but that’s not how we do things around here.” He spanks you again before thrusting two fingers knuckle deep inside you. He curls them just right, he always knew how to work you like you were his favorite toy. He presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing slow circles around it. Rafe grabs the globe of your ass with his other hand, pulling you open for him. He leans down and lets a line of spit drip from his mouth directly onto your asshole. “Miss this sexy little ass, you gonna let me eat it from the back, for old times sake?”

“You’re lucky to even have me in your bed-“ Rafe pulls his fingers from inside you to wrap his hand around your throat and pull you up against his chest.

“Nah, that’s not how we’re gonna play it, princess.” Rafe grits into your ear. “We both know you want it, so just admit it. Say ‘yes daddy I want you to eat my ass and treat me like the whore I am.’ Say it or I won’t fuckin’ touch you.”

“Fuck, please?” Rafe’s hand tightens on your throat as he leans down to sink his teeth into your shoulder. The pain sends a jolt straight to your already throbbing pussy.

“That’s not what I said, is it? Beg slut, beg me to eat your pathetic little asshole.” You can feel Rafe’s sinister smirk against your skin and you hate that you’re going to do exactly what he says because you aren’t leaving here without it.

“Please eat my ass daddy? Please? I’ll be so good, I’m sorry for having a bad attitude.” You pout your lips and look over your shoulder at him and god if you didn’t want him to touch you so bad you would probably punch that smug look right off his beautiful face.

“That’s my girl.” Rafe snickers before pushing your head back into the mattress. He grips onto your asscheeks, pulling them apart and spitting onto your hole again. The warm liquid drips down your pussy and onto your clit, sending a shiver down your spine. He rubs his thumb in little circles around your hole, pushing it in every so slightly and then he leans down and licks from your clit all the way to your asshole. “Missed this ass so bad, you gotta stop depriving me, baby.”

Rafe mumbles into your pussy as he runs his tongue back down your clit before laying it flat and running it across your asshole. He licks you greedily, sliding his tongue between your cheeks and teasing your pussy. He circles your ass with his tongue and then pokes it inside you, flicking it in your tight walls.

“Oh fuck.” You moan into the sheets as Rafe fucks your ass with his tongue. He switches between circles and flicks of it inside of you, making you drip with his spit as your pussy clenches around nothing. And almost as if he can read your mind Rafe slides his fingers into your dripping cunt, thrusting them in and out of you at a brutal pace. His thumb finds your clit and it makes your eyes roll back. “God I’m gonna come already, daddy.”

“Mmm, there’s my obedient little slut. Come for me.” Rafe groans into your ass before shoving his tongue as far deep inside of it as it can go. One of his big hands spreads you open while the other finger fucks you, bullying your sweet spot. His thumb finds your clit and that’s all it takes to have you clawing the sheets and clenching around his fingers.

“Fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming, oh it’s so good, daddy.” You grind your ass back against him as your orgasm wracks your entire system. Rafe fucks you through it before pulling back and admiring the view.

“Would ya look at that.” Rafe grips onto your ass and pulls it apart so he can watch your cum drip down your thighs, his spit dripping down your crack and mixing with it. His finger circles your asshole before dipping inside to the second knuckle. “You gonna let me fuck your ass, baby? Need to feel you squeezing my fuckin’ dick.”

“Yeah fuck, yes.” You’re so far gone you aren’t even ashamed of how quickly you agree. Rafe rubs his hand on your pussy, wetting it with your juices before bringing it to his cock and using it as lube. He jerks himself a few times as he spits on your ass again and brings his finger to your hole, shoving it all the way in. “Oh my godddd.”

“Oh fuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You really aren’t letting him play with this ass, huh? It’s all mine?” Rafe chuckles as he presses a second finger into you and thrusts them in and out of you slowly, opening you up for him. “S’gonna feel so good, goddamn.”

“Please.” You don’t even care if it hurts, you just want to feel him inside you. “Fuck me.” You wiggle your ass and arch your back even further, practically presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat. Something in Rafe snaps in that moment and he brings his cock to your asshole and presses the head inside.

“Oh fuckin’ shit, baby, so tight.” Rafe groans as he brings his hand to your clit and rubs circles on it, the pleasure distracting from the burning stretch of his cock. He spits on you again before pressing halfway in and pulling out again. When he presses back in this time he slams his entire dick into your ass and it nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“Oh god.” You whine and writhe beneath him, your body subconsciously trying to run away from the stinging pleasure.

“Where you goin’? Huh? Fuckin’ take it.” Rafe wraps his arm around your middle, locking you in place. His hand on your clit slides up between the dripping folds of your cunt before he presses two of them into you and thrusts them in and out of you time with the pumps of his cock.

“Fuck, I feel so full, daddy.” You’re practically limp beneath him as you drool into the mattress. “Fucking use me.”

“Use you? Oh baby, I’m gonna do more than that.” Rafe pulls his cock out of you to the tip before slamming it back into you and repeating the action. “I’m gonna fill this ass, then I’m gonna send your pathetic little boyfriend a picture of it. Wanna know the best part?”

“Hmm?” You’re so fucked out you that you don’t even fully process his words, blindly agreeing as long as he keeps fucking you like this.

“You’re.” Thrust. “Gonna.” Thrust. “Fuckin’ let me.” Thrust. “Aren’t you, princess?”

“Uh-huh. Oh fuck.” Rafe’s thumb finds your clit just as he pumps deep into your ass, his fingers curl against your sweet spot, and it has euphoria washing over you. “God, I’m coming again.”

“Yeah, that’s my good girl, give daddy your cum.” When your pussy stops spasming around his fingers he pulls them out and uses his opposite hand to yank onto the back of your hair. He pulls your head back and brings his wet fingers to your lips. “Taste yourself.”

He shoves them into your mouth as the hand on your hair yanks hard. You swirl your tongue around his digits with a moan as you lick your juices from his skin. He pulls them from your mouth with a pop before giving your hip a bruising grip and using your hair for leverage as he fucks your ass harder than before. Skin slaps against skin and the groans leaving Rafe are nearly animalistic.

“Gonna fill this slutty little ass with my cum, tell me you want it.” Rafe’s thrusts grow harder and sloppier by the second and you can tell he’s close so you clench around his cock.

“I want your cum, daddy, fill my ass.” Rafe’s dick twitches inside you as the hand in your hair pushes your head back down into the mattress. He leans his large frame over you as he pumps hard and deep into your ass. All it takes to have his cock bursting inside you is another clench of your walls.

“Yeah, that’s it, slut, take my fuckin’ cum.” Rafe pushes your face into the mattress so hard it cuts off your airflow as he fucks himself through his orgasm. His cock fills you with ropes of his cum and when he pulls out, he takes sick satisfaction in the way it drips out. “Don’t move.”

Even if you wanted to, you’re so fucked out that you’re stuck where you are. Panting on Rafe’s sheets with your ass in the air. You hear rustling behind you before the snap and the flash of a camera go off. It takes your hazy mind a second to process what he’s doing but when you do, you shoot up and turn around.

“Hey! Give me my fucking phone, Rafe!” You squeal as you launch yourself toward him but he just holds it over your head as he types. You manage to get your hands on it right as you hear the sound of a message being sent. You look at the screen in horror as you see the text he sent your boyfriend accompanied by the photo of his cum dripping from your ass. “Are you serious!?”

“Yeah. I am.” Rafe tongues his cheek and runs his hands across his chin as he smirks smugly. “I was tired of watching you pretend you liked that loser just to piss me off. Now he knows who really owns your little ass.”

“Ugh, fuck you!” You huff and slap his chest but he just grabs your hand and brings it to his lips.

“Pretty sure you just did, baby. But if you wanna go for a second round…” Rafe licks his lips as his eyes roam your naked body.

“No. I’m leaving.” You try to turn away from him but Rafe grips onto your shoulders, holding you in place.

“Nah. Lay your ass down, I miss that fuckin’ pussy. You’re not going anywhere.” Rafe grips onto your throat and pulls your face inches from his. “You’re mine and you know it. So stop playin’ your little games, I’m over it.”

“You’re so fucking annoying.” You groan as you throw yourself back on his plush pillows. You’re not leaving. And you both know it.

Tagging mooties: @rafescorpsebride @rafesheaven @rafescvntyclubgf @eerielamb @that-sarcastic-writer @moonlightseranade 🤍

Divider by @anitalenia

[hoonieyun]

this is where it ends ⋆˙⟡♡

days of dodging your boyfriend after your fight finally lead you to the answer you've been looking for (read part one here) heeseung 𐐪♡𐑂 jongseong 𐐪♡𐑂 jaeyun 𐐪♡𐑂 sunghoon genre: aaaaangsttttt!!! angst!! heartbreak.. OOF warnings: toxic relationship, bad coping mechanisms, profanity, mentions of drinking as an addiction, gaslighting, arguing, 18+

hoonieyun notes: WHEW... lowkey was like.. damn this shit is TOO angsty so sorry in advance but im obsessed with angst lately and watching xo kitty did not help because that show was a rollercoaster LMAO anyways i hope you guys enjoy this sad piece of work because i have more coming with my vday anthology and exes reunited series plus! i've just announced my 1k follower special!

𐐪♡𐑂 @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @heartheejake @cloud-lyy @heeweenie @jakesimfromstatefarm @lovelymelon @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia

@chvconn3 @heeheeyeoiizz01 @pjselee @malloryaloisia @alienqbrain @jooniesbears-blog @haeeeeefer @firstclassjaylee

heeseung ⋆˚ʚɞ

it had been 3 days since you left heeseung standing in your apartment, dumbfounded and unsure of where you were. you really had hoped he would run after you that night but he didn’t and that seemed to put the nail in the coffin for you. 

were you ready to throw away your relationship all because of this? 

was it worth it to lose the person you love? 

you had pondered on so many questions since that night and each question felt like you were guilt tripping yourself into thinking that your own feelings weren’t valid, like you were trying to convince yourself that you were overreacting and that heeseung was right. 

why were you being so annoying?

but these questions only led to more questions instead of answers.

were you being annoying or were you just tired of not being heard? 

if you hadn’t been the one to constantly ask him to clean up after himself would he have done it on his own? 

why were you trying to come up with reasons to talk yourself back into his arms when you truly knew deep down the answer you were looking for…

you just weren’t ready to come to terms with it. 

so here you were, hurriedly packing what you could before heeseung could come home. and just to your luck, he had arrived much earlier than you anticipated. “yn?” heeseungs says, shock painted across his face as he sees you standing in the hallway with a box of your things. 

“wh- what are you doing?” he asks, eyes falling on the box in your hands. 

both of you knew the answer to that. 

“i think- i can’t do this anymore, hee… 

i did a lot of thinking these past fews days and everything i thought of i found myself trying to make excuses for you. trying to figure out why i was acting this way and why i was going out of my way to make it seem like i was the one causing these issues and stressing myself out and then i realized… 

why was i trying to compromise my own happiness and well being for someone who didn’t care about me? 

for someone who couldn’t simply understand where i was coming from and couldn’t even listen to me when all i would ask for was something so easy as to clean up after yourself. 

heeseung, you’re grown and so am i and i’m done acting like your words and actions don’t hurt solely for the fact that i don’t want to lose you. 

we’re over.” your eyes had tears pooling in them but you refused to let them fall in front of heeseung. 

“what?” heeseung asks, slipping his shoes off and running over to you in an attempt to stop you, reaching for the box but you move out of the way before he can. 

“yn.. can we please talk about this? don’t jump to conclusions just because you’re hurt. this isn’t what you want, what about us? 

are you willing to throw us away because of some petty fight?” and that’s when you knew that you and heeseung weren’t on the same page… at all. 

“that’s what you have to say?” and at this point you had lost the fight to stop the tears from falling. 

“you haven’t even apologized? and now you’re here trying to gaslight me into thinking that what i’m feeling is just the result of a petty fight? 

hee, you never listen to me. you dismissed my feelings and all i asked was you clean up our bedroom because i was tired. i’m sorry but if that was such a hard task then i don’t know what to tell you. 

i’m not jumping to conclusions. heeseung, we’re done.” you say, pushing passed him so you could leave and move on. start new and heal from this pain. 

“really? you’re just going to walk away?” heeseung asks, still refusing to take accountability for his actions. 

“i’m not walking away… you pushed me away.”

“bye, heeseung.”

jongseong ⋆˚ʚɞ

jay hadn’t been able to pick up a bottle of alcohol since that night… 5 months ago. he hadn’t realized he developed a bad habit of drinking all because he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his loving girlfriend, the one who took care of him, who loved him, who fought for him to make things right, was slowly becoming someone he didn’t love anymore. 

so why was it that now that you two were broken up, he wants nothing more to get back together with you? 

he thought about the day you finally came back. after you ran out in the middle of the night jay didn’t see you for a whole week and by the end of that week, you would be gone for good. 

“is this what you really want?” jay had asked you right before you left. 

“its not what i want… but it doesn’t seem like what i want would be something that could ever happen if i stayed with you. 

you hurt me, jay. all i ever did was care for you and love you and it made me realize i hadn’t felt care or love from you for a while now. 

i truly hope that you get help for your drinking problem but i’m sorry i’m not going to be the one to fix it for you.” and with that you were gone. out of jay’s life and although you had said that you weren’t going to be the one to fix his drinking problem, in a lot of ways; you did fix it. 

he hadn’t drank since that night and vowed to himself that he wouldn’t drink ever again and 5 months after, he’s kept that promise. 

jay wished that he did keep his promise to you. 

when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend, he had promised to hold your heart close to his and to never break it. only to find himself distancing his heart from yours and eventually shattering it into millions of pieces when you got into a fight that night. 

but he was now forced to face all of this all over again as you stood in front of him, mirroring the same shocked face he had as the two of you run into each other at a mutual friends party. 

you hadn’t seen jay since that night and although your heart ached for him, you had to choose yourself. you couldn’t stand being with someone who saw you as overbearing when all you did was care for and love them. 

you truly had been worried about jay ever since his drinking habits had gone worse and maybe you could’ve gone about it a better way and not made him feel attacked for his actions but he didn’t have the same consideration for you so why should you do the same… right? 

“h-hi.. yn. you look good.” jay stutters. 

“you do too, um.. i–” you begin to say but he cuts you off. “look, i know we didn’t end on the right foot and these past five months have been hard for me so i could only imagine how hard they’ve been on you. 

i wasn’t right to treat you that way and i’m sorry i’m only realizing it now. i miss you so much and i spend countless nights thinking about you. reminiscing on the good times and how i let myself ruin all of it. 

i’m sorry, yn.” it all comes out like word vomit and quite frankly, you weren’t prepared to hear any of it. you also hadn’t expected him to have this much of grasp on your relationship five months after, but it was all too late. 

“i’m sorry too, jay– but i can’t keep doing this. i think you need to move on. i know i will…” you muttered.

“for what it’s worth… you did help me… i’m five months sober.” he confesses and you give him a tight lipped smile. 

“take care of yourself, ok?” you say before turning around to leave and although jay wished that he could’ve said all of this five months sooner in hopes that it would’ve fixed your relationship, he respects your wishes and just hopes that the next guy who comes around would love you the way you deserved to be loved. 

jaeyun ⋆˚ʚɞ

in the time you’ve dated jake or quite frankly, anyone, they had never raised their voice and spoke to you in that way. jake seemed so angry and upset that it scared you. you knew that jake would never hurt you but his words pierced your heart in ways that caused you pain you had never felt before, especially from someone you love and was supposed to love you.

it always hurts more when it comes from someone you love right? 

you had come home the next day and found jake sleeping on the couch, hugging the plushy that he often said looked like you. 

you’d be lying if you said that seeing him like this didn’t make your heart hurt… but it did. 

it seemed like jake had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for you but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

the feeling of being unwanted, unloved, undesirable, and not enough for someone who is supposed to love you. 

but if jake had loved you he wouldn’t have raised his voice at you.. let alone speak to you in that tone and used language that was meant to hurt someone. 

“yn? is that you?” he says, stretching on the couch and rubbing his eyes, causing you to snap out of it. you quickly wipe away the tears that had miraculously appeared. “um, yeah. i just came to grab some things. you can go back to sleeping..” you explained as you made your way to your shared bedroom. 

“baby? can we talk?” jake says, peering into the room as he sees you packing your things inside of duffel bag. “wait- what are you packing? are you leaving? baby, please don’t do this, can we talk this out?” he was now on his knees in front of you, clutching onto your sweater while he begged. 

“jake, get up.” you say, rolling your eyes at him. 

“its just for a few days, i need time to myself- i need to think, ok?” you said and even now, even when you’re still hurting because of him from the night before, you were here trying to comfort him. 

jake stands up with a sniffle and he attempts to link your hands together but you pull away to continue packing your bag. “when are we going to talk about this? i love you, i don’t want you to leave… please stay.” he continues to beg and although its working, you needed to stay strong. 

“if you loved me you wouldn’t have spoken to me like that. people who love each other don’t speak to people they love that way. 

jake, you hurt me… and i don’t know what i did to deserve that treatment but i just wanted help. i spent all day running errands despite feeling like shit because of my period and you dismissed my feelings like it was nothing. 

that blanket meant so much to me, you knew that it was from my late grandmother yet you tossed it aside for your own accord because you didn’t have the same care for me and the things i love the way i do for you.” you said with a huff as you stuffed the last of your things into the bag. 

“when will you come back?” was all jake asked and all you could muster up was a shrug, because you weren’t entirely sure when you would be back. 

needless to say, a few days turned into a few weeks, and a few weeks turned into a few months and at some point you found yourself not having the need to come back. 

you wished you could get the closure you wanted from jake and you were sure he also wanted that, but walking away was something you needed to do. even if it was just one instance where jake spoke to you that way, it was enough for you to leave because you weren’t going to allow yourself to be with someone who found it in themselves to speak that way to someone they supposedly loved. 

not then, not now, and not ever.

sunghoon ⋆˚ʚɞ

sunghoon hadn’t known what he was doing, it was like his body was moving before his brain could think because he was running back inside and grabbing his car keys to drive after you. 

he wasn’t sure where you were headed off to but he had guessed that you were most likely going to stay with your mom. you were always close with your mom and she often was the person you went to when you were having troubles if you didn’t go to sunghoon. 

sunghoon knew he fucked up and he shouldn’t have treated you that way let alone let some strangers treat you that way. he didn’t know what let him get to the point where he was allowing these men to speak about you, the girl that he loved, in a way that made you feel small. demeaning and degrading you in a way that he hadn’t realized and even if he did, he chose to look away instead of defend you all because he was filled with the greed of wanting this promotion. 

was it even worth it anymore if it meant losing you? 

sunghoon was speeding at this point and although you hadn’t left much before he had went to follow you, there was no one else in the streets as he sped through to catch up to you. 

in a short amount of time, he’s turning into the street that your mom lives on and sure enough, he sees you just about to walk up to the front door. he hapazardly parks the car on the side of the street and stumbles out of his car to get to you. 

“yn, please. wait, lets talk about this!” he says and you’re startled at sunghoon suddenly appearing and you wipe the tears from your face and blink a few times to make sure he was actually there. 

“hoon? what are you doing here?” you ask, stepping down the small stairway that led to your mom’s home. “i couldn’t just let you leave like that, we need to talk-

look i’m sorry for the way i treated you and even more sorry that i let them treat you that way. i love you so much and i couldn’t imagine the amount of hurt i caused you for making it seem like i was okay with letting them say those things about you all because i wanted that promotion so damn bad. 

i was selfish and greedy but those are the things that make me want you more. i don’t want you to leave and walk away from me because i am selfish and greedy and i want you all to myself. 

i’m sorry that i didn’t defend you and i made you feel small…” he says and at this point sunghoon is crying. his voice breaks with every other word and you truly hadn’t seen sunghoon in this much distress, ever. 

you didn’t know how to respond but the longer you looked into sunghoon’s bloodshot eyes, the more confused you became. 

you could tell sunghoon was sincere but you didn’t think this was something that could be fixed right then and there. your sensitivity was always something you struggled with and sunghoon knew that yet he brushed off your feelings like it was nothing. 

“you shouldn’t have driven out all this way… 

because although i appreciate your apology i don’t know that i’m in the right place to accept it or to forgive you. 

sunghoon you hurt me and you let others hurt me. 

i’m selfish too, i want you all to myself too and i wouldn’t have stayed so long if i didn’t love you and want to be with you… but-

i don’t know if i can be with someone that doesn’t see me in the way i deserve. 

and i certainly know i don’t deserve any of that.” both of your attention is drawn to the sound of the front door as it opens, revealing your mother in her nightwear and arms crossed; a displeased expression on her face. 

“i’ll reach out to you when i’m ready.” you say and without another word you’re retreating into your mom’s home, hiding away from sunghoon and preparing yourself to have to face the inevitable one day. 

sunghoon on the other hand, drags himself to his car, head hanging low as he has to come to terms that his own selfishness and greed for the one he loved was also what caused him to lose the love of his life. 

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[kivrumi]

GEEK! SATORU GOJO / FEM! READER ᗢ𓄹 ׅ ࣪ ˖ ⊹

⚠️ WARNINGS: masturbation, dirty fantasies and thoughts, pervert behaviour, down bad Satoru, submissive Gojo, no actual smut (smut in part 2), very suggestive, NSFW, virgin Gojo who is severely downbad for reader.

A little bit of Geto/Sukuna x reader

PART 1 | PART 2

geek!gojo who is entirely obsessed with anime, video games, and whatever weird shit he can find on the internet. He can play boring simple games but they are nothing compared to the ones with heavy lore. Is it weird he is also obsessed with the lore behind all of these games? How the games were founded, what they mean, the creators themself, why was it made and the depth of every character.

whenever he found something new and intresting it will take over his entire personality.

geek!gojo would know weird facts about the creators of his intrests too. Like who bothered to find out or who even cares to find out that one of the creators of animal crossings birthday is April 7th? If you ever had a birthday that was the same as one of them he is IMMEDIATELY informing you.

geek!gojo who rambles to Geto about fortnite lore and any other lore he needs to tell someone, no one else cares to listen to him. Hell even Geto don't give a fuck but listens anyways (his ass is NOT listening and Gojo knows that).

geek!gojo who is in college and is a known loser. Glasses, Dragon Ball Z wallpaper, and a fucking random dinosaur as his phone cover. Trust me, that dinosaur has a lot of lore too that you WILL be informed about if you are anywhere near him.

Hence why no one goes near the guy.

geek!gojo who sees you for the first time, a transfer student. You are so utterly beautiful in his eyes he is already thinking how to ask you out with cheesy pick up lines that refrences his favourite game at the moment.

geek!gojo who seethes with jealousy seeing how easily you fit in with normies, its not like he knew if you had intresting taste, he just gave you his own little headcanon on some things he assumes you will share intrest with him.

annoyed!geto who has to not only hear about Satorus geeky ass topics, but now a girl he has never spoken to being his potential future wife. Sure you were overly pretty, but would you really want a geek like Satoru?

geek!gojo who has been eyeing you for almost a month now, same classes as you but never had the chance to utter a word at you. Instead he sits at the back with Geto, staring daggers at you (his way of rizzing) for not paying attention to him. He is mad how you found yourself in a big popular friendgroup, and seated sooooo far away from him.

geek!gojo who knows YOUR lore. Geto says its creepy but Geto doesn't know anything. Gojo is aware of how many siblings you have, your favorite food, drink, color and everything he could possibly grab by purposely earsdropping on your conversations.

Yet no sign of you sharing geeky intrests with Gojo... oh well, if you really are just an extremely pretty and cute normie, he will just have to teach you about everything he likes one by one!

geek!gojo who gets teased and bullied by the other people in your friendgroup, it was never physical, just constant nagging comments.

"Whats the nerd doing here" they would say, or "Isn't that the guy that has a roblox girlfriend?" He didn't have a roblox girlfriend that was just a rumour! It was just his own Miku avatar they got confused with! He hopes to god you dont believe that rumour! He is single and looking, looking at only you!

YOU who never batted an eye at him when your friends would tease him. It bothered him, not exactly how you would think...

Yes, he would love if you defended him, he would cry tears of joy. He wants that more than anything.

But you wouldn't give him that, the least you could do is join in the teasing. He ached for you to give him any sort of attention. Why were you standing there minding your own business when the rest of your friends are gossiping about him! After all this time do you not care to know about him? Even if it is to laugh about how much of a loser he is?

nerd!gojo who starts trying to find ways for you to notice him. Did you not realise how lately he only wears your favorite color? Look! He is eating your favorite snack!! Don't you want to ask for some? Ask him how much he likes them? Where he bought them? If you want to get some with him? Date him?

tired!geto who constantly bugs Gojo to forget about you, as the two sat in class. The teacher was reading out who gets paired with who for some project. Wait!! This is it!!! The sensei is obviously going to pair you and Gojo, thats how the fanfictions go... right?

geek!gojo whos ears perk up at the sensei calling your name, then swears someone shot him 568 times when he hears the name to go along with it.

"Suguru Geto"

geek!gojo is fuming, this is not how it's supposed to go! What happens if you get too close with Suguru during this two week project?

"Satoru and Sukuna" of course, he has to be paired with your annoying friend. There were even rumours of you two dating! Does this mean he is paired with your maybe secret boyfriend?

geek!gojo who suffered the two weeks of dealing with Sukuna and his friend getting you in all your glory. He would beg for Suguru to ramble on about you. But of course Suguru never gave much information to feed Gojo's curiousity.

geek!gojo who has never had pussy in his life. Actually, he was never one to think about girls that much. His games were far more important, and catching up on the authors life from his favourite underground manga sounded better than dreaming about girls.

But damn his mind never forgets to think about how cute and sexy you look everyday.

You come in every day with a skirt, he thanks the heavens when it looks a little shorter then the last time he saw you. When you wear baggy shirts and hoodies is allows him to fully visualise how you would look in his, and that just aches his cock...

The days you wear knee high socks its like you decided to gift him with life, blessing him, giving him a reason to come into college, reason to live. Don't get him started on the days you wear slightly revealing tops, or extremely tight ones.

Hell when you wear a baggy shirt that shows your shoulder he is fucking losing it, mumbling under his breath about how much he wants to lick and bite your exposed skin. He can see your bra strap and its driving him critically insane, why does he act like such a loser virgin teen. Well, he is two of those things.

geek!gojo who has all the compliments in the world to give you when he sees you walk through the doors, sitting far away infront of the class with your lame friends. But he cant bring himself to utter a word to you, how dare he be the first to speak to you, a lowly thing like him.

geek!gojo who is ripping his hair out at the back of the class, as much as he loves your laugh and giggles, it poisons his heart knowing they are all towards... Nanami? What the fuck! You even started speaking to Nanami before him!! Did you really look down on him, to the point you would neither pay positive or negative attention to him?

Oh well... because geek!gojo has many fantasies of you in his head, curing him from the loss of your attention and touch. Sure, his thoughts of you spiral in his head whilst in your presence and he can't contain himself nor his constant boners in class from the sight of you. But once he is all alone in his dorm room he can finally releif himself from his dirty thoughts.

Hand on dick, biting down on his lips, pants discarded.

geek!gojo was never one to masturbate that much, the sensation from how he used to do it before you to now is totally new and much better and sensitive because he actually had someone in mind, someone who deserved to be the one to make Gojo feel like this. So whiny, so needy, so.. submissive...

"ah- pleaseee let me come"

"ahh! ngh i need it baby"

He begs as if your there, the one toying with him. His hand is fast and he is getting more desperate. He cums quick by visualising your soft lips, nice smelling hair and wide innocent eyes.

Fuck. He was in deep...

What would you be like in bed? Submissive? would you be shy when he enters you or would you shout at him for taking so long? Would you be more dominant? Order him around, straddle his face and crotch. Tell him to be good for you for a treat? Bark Beg for you? Oh and now he's hard again...

consultant!geto who tells Gojo to

"start giving up, seriously. I dont want to see you hurt Satoru"

Is Suguru right? Gojo asks himself...

Maybe... he should try to stop... thinking about you so much... you're out of his league anyways and you've made it clear you want nothing to do with him. Gojo can take a hint, right?

geek!gojo who is sprawled on his bed again the same night, hand moving in a fast pace, moaning and screaming for you in pleasure. He misses you despite never getting to be around you. He needed you so bad.

geek!gojo who is panicked in class. Not only is Suguru off sick, making him alone, but you weren't in today. What was the point of him coming in? What was the point of him practicing how to talk to you infront of his mirror like he does everyday before college?

His heart is tainted, looking at your friend group bunched around together but your seat staying empty.

The lights in the class dimmed, a short film the sensei is playing about some aspect of human biology. Whatever, he wasn't one to study much or pay attention, he thinks as he carelessly pulls out tetris. Around seven minutes go by and right beside him the door opens. Gojo's seat is right by the entrance of the door, so he got a good view of you walking in, out of breath, tight top, knee high socks and messy hair.

Apologies to your teacher were said, the sensei dismissing your poor sense of time as you were usually never late. Gojo is extremely curious on why you were late, wants to question you like an insecure clingy boyfriend.

"Its fine, just quickly find a seat and dont interrupt the film" The teacher says to you as your eyes scanned the room for an available seat. Walking to your usual seat would be a nuisance... you would have to embarrassingly walk in front of everyone and interupt the film again, and Sukuna was near your seat, you dread to sit next to that weirdo.

geek!gojo who is ultimately curious at the sound of Sugurus chair being pulled back, and someone else taking it.

"Is Geto in today?" you ask quietly. You were staring... right... at him... Gojo was silent, still staring. Your first words ever to him. Even if it is about Geto, you spoke to him. That's all he cared for in the moment. It took him 13 seconds to respond to your question by shaking his head 'no'. You looked at him awkwardly, obviously you were weirded out by him being so... dumb? silent? lost? out of it?

He can barely function in your presence, and your words and your lingering eyes and your attention.

He finally gets what he has been wanting for ages but hes being all shy and weird about it, you were probably regretting your decision of sitting by him.

But geek!gojo was jumping and frolicking in joy in his head. YOU were sitting right beside him. You looked in his eyes, talked to him (even if he didn't say anything back) and is sitting by him for the rest of the film. He hops to god this film would never end.

"You are fine with me sitting here, right?"

you whisper again, eyes glues to his face, worried if Gojo is annoyed by you and thought you were overstepping his boundaries. This time he nodded his head 'yes' a little too fast, scared if he was hesitant you would leave. You gave him a quick smile before turning all your attention to the film. You smiled at him?! His fingers are already fidgeting with the desk, his tetris long and forgotten about.

its been about 4 minutes and geek!gojo wont stop geeking. He smiles to himself, leg bouncing up and down. His poor heart can't handle this.

He can tell you were bored out of your mind, he watched you pull out a peice of paper from your bag and start to... doodle?

He feels like a fake fan for finding out so late that drawing is one of your hobbies.

He desperately needs to see and praise every art work you've ever made, his eyes continously peek at your paper.

geek!gojo who immediately recognises the characters you drew. Kirby? Six from the game my little nightmares? Hello kitty doodles and stars everywhere. His heart melts, he loves your little style and finding out you share a few intrests of his make his heart bounce everywhere in his body. He is afraid he cant control his racing heart and only you can catch it.

"kirby" he says. It's all he says to you.

You two share an awkward silence, but Gojo can't back down now.

"Sorry i uhm i uh- i uhh" he stutters, he cant make the decision to look straight into your eyes or his fidgeting hands "uh i also like kirby. Although, i wouldn't grant kirby to be my favourite character from the kirby games, he is infact a good main character and i hold no dislike for him but i do find meta knight to be a much better character. Not for the main character lead, just in general, meta knight has a very intresting, cool character design and i find him to balance out the game correctly and appropriately. I think meta knights introduction to the game definitely holds-" He was interrupted by a giggle by you, your smile wider than ever. Hell, he never knew you could smile like that, all it does is make his hear flutter and face flustered. He got to be the reason you're giggling and smiling at him like that?

"I agree meta knight is awesome, although, i personally like waddle dee the most. His character design may be simple but i still-" Hearing you ramble on not only surprised him, but made him happier than ever. This entire time you truely was his dream girl? His headcanons about you were canon.

geek!gojo who got to talk to you for the rest of the lesson, quietly of course. You two talked about things you shared intrest in, and he talked about stuff he likes that you've never heard of. He loved how you would question stuff about his intrest, showed intrest in what he was talking about and actually listen to him. You cared for what he had to say about his useless stuff.

geek!gojo who paid attention to everything you say. When you hit him with a fun fact about something he already knows and thinks its bare minimum knowledge for real fan, he is acting like it’s all new to him. You talked about topics he never really knew of too, every word spoken by you made him fall for you deeper and harder.

geek!gojo who is now rambling on about you to Geto after Geto asked why he was so smiley over facetime.

"Idiot Suguru! You said i never had a chance with her, look at us now"

jealous!geto who immediately knew you and Gojo would hit it off if you guys spoke to eachother once. Spending time with you during the two week project let Geto realise how great the two of you would be together, yet, Geto wanted to... gatekeep you? Who knew Geto would start feeling something for you too.

note: i have much more to yap about, there WILL be a part 2

PART 1 | PART 2

@kivrumi do not steal / copy / reword / translate my work

[k1mbe3rly]

Can you do a se mi head canon or fic with a really talkative reader. Thanks <3

it’s a dream for me

There’s one way to shut you up

warnings: Smut, ⚠️WLW⚠️ fingering, eating outp, titty sucking

You and Se-mi been in a relationship for awhile, everything was great, you loved her and she loved you, but the only problem for her was that you talked a LOTTT

Sometimes she even has her airpods in when your talking or she just zones out, sometimes she even stares at you or your tits as she listens to you talk and talk about many things at once

“Babe you won’t believe what just happened at work!” you said turning your body to her on the bed as she was scrolling thru her phone “Hm?” she said

“Remember my best friend? yea we she literally got cheated on…by her boyfriend” you told her as she faked a gasped “That’s crazy baby..” she said scrolling on her phone still

Thannn you started yapping on how she found out and who he cheated with, she laid there boredly just listening to you, she looked over at you as she admired your lips for a moment and smirked

She grabbed the back of your neck slowly as you kept talking, she leaned a bit more closer, she’s surprised you haven’t noticed

As you kept going on and on about your friends, she quickly took an advantage kissing you quickly as you widen your eyes at the sudden kiss, you let out a low chuckle into the kiss as your lips moved along with her

She slowly grabbed onto your waist pulling you on top of her

As you guys made out, soft lip smacking was heard as her hands travels to your back than to your ass slightly gripping it, you let out a low gasp into the kiss again as she bit your bottom lip, you looked at her as her eyes looked up at you lidded heavy eyes

She pulled back smirking as her hands went to the hem of your shirt quickly pulling it over your head, she threw it somewhere on the floor as she admired your tits a bit, her hands roamed your bare back

“You know you talk a lot right baby?” she spoke, “Your saying i’m annoying than?” you spoke back as she chuckled, she ignored your question as she unclipped your bra letting it fall down slightly, she than took off the strings out your arms throwing your bra somewhere else

She admired your bare tits as she bit her lip “fuckk baby…love your fucking boobs.” she spoke before she attacked one of them with her mouth, you gasped out feeling a warm feeling and her tongue roaming over your nipple, you let out a low moan as you gripped on her hair, with her other hand she rubbed her fingers over your nipple as well

As she kept sucking on them she finally pulled back, she quickly pushed you down the mattress so you lay flat and took off your pants along your panties

She spread open your legs as she admired what was between them, she looked up at you as you looked down at her breathless, “Se-mi..” but before you could continue she quickly placed her mouth on your pussy sucking and licking on it, you moaned out as you threw your head back “Fuckk!!” you moaned out

She kept sucking and fucking you with her tongue as that familiar knot formed, “Baby! i’m gonna cum!” you told her, she quickly pulled back as you whined out

She flipped you over onto all fours grabbed onto your ass and shoved her tongue back inside your pussy, you moaned out again loudly, her hand went over to your clit and rubbed on it, you gasped and moaned as you pushed you head onto the pillow

She than replaced her tongue with her fingers, as her fingerings curved in and out, your moans grew louder into the pillow, you gripped onto the pillow as well

She roughly fingered you, her hand snapping back and forth, with her other hand she slapped on your ass a bit and gripped it again

Her fingers still fingering you at an insanely fast pace, agin you felt that exact same knot into your stomach as your eyes rolled back a bit

“MM-!! baby~!! i’m gonna cum! holy shit i’m gonna fucking cum!” you screamed into the pillow as her fingers somehow got faster, you can hear her growling behind you

“Cum on my fingers baby, i wanna see you cum” she spoke

You kept moaning into the pillow as you came, her fingers getting soaked with your cum as she pulled out with a loud pop, your moans fell down as you kept your head between the pillow

She chuckled, “Love your moans so fucking much.” she said, “Moans are the same thing as my voice dummy..” you softly spoke as you felt tired and worn out a bit,

She hummed “Mm i love both, you just talk a lot and i just found a perfect way to shut you up..”

[neonaurore]

just gonna add like maybe you should read why they discount the 1.7% figure--they think it's not valid because it includes klinefelter's (47 XXY), turner's (45 X0) and LOCAH, which are all universally actually qualified under the definition of intersex. like. klinefelter's and turner's are literally sex chromosomes outside of the oft repeated "there's only XX or XY" so if that's not intersex, what fucking IS? and LOCAH is excluded because it's definitely a hormonal imbalance but they want to exclude intersex people whose intersexness shows up during puberty rather than birth, even though a lot of intersex people have no idea they're intersex until puberty (or long after it)

stop using these tactics to discredit the idea intersex people aren't rare, because this is not you defending intersex identity, this is erasure. clinicians constantly move the goalposts to pretend intersex people aren't really intersex to instead medicalize them and treat them like they're just broken disordered people rather than someone with a legitimate identity because if we are treated as a legitimate identity then suddenly we must be taken seriously as a social group and not some broken people with broken bodies. you're doing the same thing as saying to be trans you must have medically diagnosed dysphoria when not only is that a narrow box, but historically trusting the definition of identity to medicine which has practiced bigotry all throughout history is a bad idea

also actually the 1.7% figure is lowballing it because it doesn't even include the most contentious intersex condition, PCOS, which the community does by and far include as intersex (LOCAH can cause PCOS) which affects a lot of people. because when that stops being excluded suddenly intersex stops going from "so rare they're not part of the conversation" to "holy shit this affects our everyday lives"

sincerely, someone who had no idea he faced intersexism all of his life until recently because of this exclusion enforced BY perisex people. do not talk over us and tell us we aren't really intersex. that can kill people

Please remember intersex people during these next 4 years. To support and worry about us too, not just perisex trans people. Intersex people are fully affected by the idea of "only male and female allowed" laws. Intersex people are affected by anti trans laws even if not all of us are trans. Many of us can't pass or hide our features, similar to how some trans people can't. We (the systems body) for example are physically incapable of passing as "cis" unless we get surgeries and hormones which still wouldn't change the fact we're intersex. We can't blend in, we get clocked as "queer looking" no matter what we wear or how we act. Don't forget about us when making posts about protecting trans and queer people. - ❔️

more

[thehoneybeestings]

──˚₊•Sugar Plum•‧₊˚──

Word Count: 2.3k

Synopsis: After years of competing for the title of Star Senior at Piltover Springs Dance School, the hatred that Violet Lanes and Y/n Y/l/n have garnered for each other is rendered a waste when in a turn of events, they are both awarded the distinction. When this forces them to confront what feelings they have for each other outside of unbridled loathing, they find that the line between hatred and lust is much finer than they thought...

Continuation of this headcanon (can be read alone, though; you'll just miss out on some context)

Content/Warnings: nsfw, smut!, top! vi, bottom! reader, low-key softdom! vi, lowkey subby! reader, reader has female anatomy, reader referred to with feminine terms/pet names (princess, good girl, etc.), pussy eating (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, mirror sexxxx, lots of consent checks bc vi you are so sweetie, can't not think of Wicked when i hear the phrase "unadulterated loathing" so i am sorry if you are in the same boat

A/N: okay guys... here it is teehee. thank you SO much for all of the love on my dancer! vi x dancer! r headcanon; I honestly did not expect it! i really really enjoyed writing for this little plotline and I'm glad you guys enjoyed it, too; and i hope this scene brings it justice... enjoy! mwah ha ha

Love, Bee ୨ৎ

You’re not quite sure how seven years of pure, unadulterated loathing between you and Violet Lanes had led to this; Vi, with a knee slotted in between your legs, hands splayed across your torso as she kissed you, and you, pinned between her body and the ballet bar behind you, whimpering into her mouth as you rode her thigh… 

The two of you were staying late at the dance studio to see if you could finally manage to perfect the lift in your duet that had been kicking your ass, and somewhere along the way, you’d found out just how fine the line between hatred and lust could be. 

What possessed you to step- no, leap- over said line, you didn’t know, but you resigned to mulling over that later, when your sworn enemy wasn’t pulling at the hair on the nape of your neck.

Her tongue traces the line of your throat before she latches on; it isn’t long before she gets carried away and you let out a hiss at the pinch of her teeth on your pulse. 

Her movements come to a halt. “Shit,” she’d exhale, “Sorry, didn’t mean to-”

“Keep going.” 

She raises a brow, rearing her head back to look at you.“Yeah? I'm gonna leave a mark if I do.”

“I don’t care what you do, just want you to keep going.”

Who is she to deny such a sweet request?

She resumes her attack on the sensitive skin until the mark on your neck is to her liking. She pulls back to assess her handiwork, and you can’t help but chuckle at her concentration through your haze. 

“Seriously? I think you're good, Vi.”

“Just makin’ sure,” she’d say with a lop-sided grin. 

You shoot her a grin of your own. “Don’t worry; I know you don’t like to share.”

“No,” she begins before leaning in, her smile barely brushing your own, “I don’t.”

Your lips would meet again, tongues moving slow and languid against each other as she rocks into you just the same. The contact- however delicious- isn’t quite enough, and it’s starting to drive you crazy. Your breath is getting heavier, your whines more shameless, and you’ve started meeting each rock of her leg with the rock of your hips. You’re chasing more- you need more- and Vi can tell. 

She’s not going to make it easy for you, of course. 

She plants the heel of her foot back on the ground, separating her knee from the heat between your thighs.

“Wh-what?” You plead breathlessly, “Why’d you stop?”

“You sure you can handle this, sweetheart? You’re falling apart and I’m not even inside you yet.”

Your eyes shoot up to meet hers, wild and desperate. 

“What,” she’d ask, cocking her head to the side, “Is that what you want? You want me inside?” 

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, please, that’s what I want.” 

You swear you can see her pupils blow out. You were begging for her. You’d been icing her out for the past seven years, and now, here you were, begging for her.

If this was a dream… then she was sure she’d wake up soon, and she wanted to taste you first.

“Can you hold out for just a little longer?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I mean, yeah… why?”

And then, Violet Lanes is on her knees in front of you.

“Oh. That's why.” Your smile is bashful as you look down at her, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Can I?” She peers up at you, hands toying with the waistband of your sweatpants.

“Fuck yes, you can.”

A satisfied smirk spreads across her face, and she tugs the sweatpants down to your ankles, leaving you to step out of the rest of the pooled material.

“Alright, baby; toss your leg up,” she commands, guiding your leg over her shoulder with a hand behind your thigh. Your hands grip the ballet bar behind you, and you hope to God you’ll be able to hold yourself up through the feeling of her mouth on you.

“You good? Holding on tight?”

“Yeah, yeah; I’m good.” 

She nods from below you with a smile, and her hand comes trailing up the calf swung over her shoulder to the plush of your thigh seated next to her head. She’s got an arm wrapped around your other leg, securing you in place.

Your breath begins to stutter as she places open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thigh, your body twitching and tensing in anticipation each time she grows closer to where you need her.

“Relax,” she purrs, thumb rubbing circles into the meaty flesh beside her.

You nod, closing your eyes and leaning your head back with a sigh; and when she finally places a kiss on the patch of wetness soaking through your underwear, you fucking melt.

“Good girl,” she draws out, feeling your weight press into her fully. “You still good with this?”

“Violet, I’m gonna lose my mind if your mouth isn’t on me in-”

You yelp as she pulls your underwear to the side to lick a stripe up from the nectar pooling at your entrance to the hardened pearl above it. 

“Not sure you’re in any position to make demands here, sugar plum.”

Your eyes roll back into your head when she attaches her lips to your clit, and when she sucks, your hand shoots down to grab at the hair on her crown. 

She moans into you- noted- and her tongue darts back down to lap at your wetness, trailing up, then down, then up, then down, collecting as much as she can on the tip of her warm tongue. 

“Fuck, princess; you taste so fucking good.”

She barely lets herself finish her sentence- words muffled in your pussy- before she’s back on your clit, swirling her tongue in circles around the swollen bud. 

The grip you have on her hair is tighter now, your thighs trembling, your features knit together in pleasure; you look down to find Vi so lost in between your legs that you don’t even think she notices how close you are.

You loosen your grip on her hair to tap rapidly on her shoulder. “V-Vi, baby,” 

As pussy drunk as she is, her head still snaps up at the sound of the pet name on your tongue. Her lips are swollen and glossy with your slick, her cheeks flushed red as the hair on her head. 

“What’s up, princess?” 

“J-just… gonna cum soon,” you pant, “want you inside first…”

“Yeah?” she smirks, gently guiding your leg off of her shoulder. She stands up, hand gripping your waist as she leans to press a sloppy kiss on your lips; and fuck, you can taste yourself on her mouth. 

“Wanna cum on my fingers?” She asks in between kisses; and you nod against her mouth, hand on the back of her head pulling her impossibly close.

She chuckles into your mouth before pulling away to drink in your features; your pleading eyes, your soft lips, the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“You’re beautiful.” 

There was that look: so soft. So soft that you could hardly stand it, your head lowering in order to escape it. 

“Oh? You’re shy now?” 

You giggle- and she wonders if that sound had always been so sweet- before pushing at her chest.

“Shut up. I'm not shy.”

“Oh, yeah?” The raise of her brow and the cockiness of her voice says she’s got something planned. 

“Turn around for me, then.”

“I-I… what? I’m-”

“Turn. Around.”

Her grip on your waist tightens, and she’s twisting your hips until suddenly, you’re face-to-face with your own reflection.

“There’s my pretty girl,” she lulls, head dropping down to plant a kiss on your shoulder. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Y-yeah… yeah,” you breathe out. You’re watching yourself come undone for her.

“Look at me.”

You’re a little embarrassed at how quickly you obey.

“You look away, and I stop, yeah?”

You whine. “Vi, really? Just-”

For a moment, the intensity of her gaze disappears, as if she’s dropped whatever persona she’d been assuming; as if she was making herself smaller for you

“If you don’t like this, just let me know. Don’t want you uncomfortable or all in your head, yeah?” 

You quirk a smile at her consideration. “No… I like it. I trust you.”

She smirks at you. “Just being a brat, then?” 

Your eye roll answers that question.

“Just being a brat. Got it. Eyes on me then, baby.”

And then, she’s pulling your- now soaked- underwear down to your thighs, reaching down to glide her middle and ring fingers through your slick, and your eyes flutter shut, and you’ve already broken the one rule she gave you.

“Y/n,” she scolds, her fingers halting. 

Your eyes fly open to find her again, and you’re muttering out a desperate apology, rocking back on her fingers, seeking any sensation you can get. 

Her free arm comes around to circle your waist, holding you in place so that you can’t chase your release on your own. “I gave you one rule, sweetheart. Keep those pretty eyes on me and I promise I’ll make you cum.”

You nod frantically, eyes never leaving her own, even as she brings her fingers up to rub your own wetness into your clit; even as those fingers sink into you from behind, three knuckles deep.

“Jesus fuck,” she curses, “fuckin’ swallowing me.”

Your thighs are already shaking, your walls fluttering around her fingers as they adjust to the new fullness.

“Gonna move now, okay?” she warns before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Yes,” you nod, “yes- fuck!”

You call out as her hand flips over, fingers rotating inside you to press into the ridges of nerves on your front wall.

“That didn’t take long to find…” she muses.

“Fuck you,” you scoff to the best of your ability- although it doesn’t really pack a punch when you look so blissed out- and Vi laughs at you.

She fucking laughs, and you remember for a moment what makes her so damn annoying; but then, she’s pistoning into you, and your mind goes blank.

You feel high off of her fingers, limbs tingling and head fuzzy, completely out of control of whatever sounds are coming out of your mouth. You can vaguely hear “fuck, yes,” and “shit, shit, shit,” and “please, Vi, please” in your own voice. You can vaguely hear the obscene sounds of her fingers moving in and out of your slick, which is, no doubt, dripping down your thighs by now. You can vaguely make out her focused expression through the stars you’re seeing.

When she brings her mouth to the shell of your ear to speak to you, though, it’s her voice that brings you back down to earth. “You with me, sweet girl? Focused on me?”

If you focus any harder on her fingers slipping in and out of you, or on the way her breath picks up in your ear, or on the furrow of her own brow, you’ll cum.

Wait… shit, you're about to cum.

“Vi,” you call out, eyes widening, “I’m gonna- I’m so close- fuck, please.”

In a second, the arm around your waist is unraveling, and she reaches down to rub tight circles onto your clit, coaxing you closer to the edge.

You can’t fucking help it; your eyes roll back, head falling back onto her shoulder, breaking the one rule she gave you.

“Sorry, sorry, ‘m sorry, I can’t-” 

You’re near tears as her hands continue their ministrations. “ ‘S alright baby,” she coos, “You’re doing so fucking good, just want you to cum for me.”

And with a guttural noise you’ve never heard yourself make, you’re doing just that; spasming on her fingers, legs shaking underneath you, knuckles white as they grip the ballet bar you’re practically doubled over. 

Vi works you through your orgasm until your hand is shooting down in between your legs, shooing her own away. “Shit, that’s enough… ‘m all done.”

She’s careful pulling out, taking the two digits into her own mouth before pulling your underwear back up in place. Her hands return to your hips, turning your body back towards her. You still haven’t opened your eyes; still trying to catch your breath.

“Hey,” she speaks softly, pulling you in, “You okay?”

When you open your eyes, she’s smiling down at you like she adores you. It’s so tender, so gentle; so much so that in the come down off the high you’d just experienced, you start to tear up.

“I’m sorry,” you begin with a sniffle, “for being such an asshole all this time.”

“Woah, woah, woah- first of all, so was I; but more importantly, you’re fucked out right now. Just worry about catching your breath for a few minutes, okay love?”

You give her a weak chuckle as she pulls away to gather your previously discarded bottoms. She leans down in front of you, guiding your legs as she directs you to put “one foot in… okay, now the other,” before pulling them up to their place on your hips.

You thank her with a smile, and she waves you off in response.

“Do you, uh…” she’s nervously rubbing the back of her neck as if she weren’t just demanding that you keep your eyes on her while she plowed you, “do you think you’d wanna come back to my place? Powder’s over at Ekko’s and my Dad has game nights with his friends every Wednesday, so it’ll just be us. We can just chill, watch a movie or something, order food if you want. Just… don’t wanna ditch you or anything, wanna make sure you’re all good after-”

“That sounds perfect, Violet.” 

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

You’re not quite sure how seven years of pure, unadulterated loathing between you and Violet Lanes had led to this; a sleepover at her house, watching shitty action movies together, splitting a pizza, and falling asleep on the couch with your limbs tangled together.

But here you were. And it really was perfect; and everyone knows that you don’t settle for less than perfect.

End ୨ৎ

Taglist: @spidercat-soccerfan, @lipglosskxsses, @baylegend6

[bluem1lls]

Hey I was wondering if you could do a se-mi fic where the reader is really sweet/kind and is apart of Gi-hun's group in the games. So when se-mi starts flirting with her the boys go all big brother/dad mode and start getting protective. I just think it would be funny to see Dae-ho and Jung-bae doing their goofy marines bit, while se-mi is absolutely unimpressed and sassy and the reader is just watching from afar happy that they're all 'getting along'. Thank you and I love your writing <3

✧₊⁺ i'd do it all again

✦ synopsis: she's very willing to flirt with you, even if there's two are always there to try to stop her from doing it!

tw: pure fluff!

authors note: hiiii, its short but its a week update and im DEAD so dhhdhdfh i hope u like it!!! tysm for the request💓💓

-> "fuck" my head hurts from the impact as i open my eyes to see a girl.. on top of me. her eyes widen as she tries to stay still. her arms keep my body trapped underneath her.

"shit- i'm so sorry" she whispers slowly, trying to not get caught by the doll from the game.

as i can hear it say 'green light' once again. she stands up quickly, lending me her hand as we start running. i can see my brother's eyes moving across the entire room trying to find me because he lost me out of his sight. when he does, he lets out a big sigh as he runs to my side, staying still as we hear the 'red light'.

-> once we're get to the finish line, i lay on the floor, exhausted. my eyes try to find the short haired girl. i stare as i see her bent over, trying to catch her breath.

"you're not allowed to leave my side, ever" dae-ho, my brother, grabs my shoulders as i rolled my eyes. "i'm serious."

"i know, i'm sorry. a girl tripped over me."

as we turned around to head to the main room, i see the girl's eyes follow me until we arrive.

-> as we're done voting, my brother, being the social butterfly he is, already got us a group.

i sit besides gi-hun as i stare the surroundings. i can feel my brother's arms around me as i groan. the girl who fell on top of me stares, quickly removing her eyes of me as i find her sight.

-> and i try multiple times to talk with her, but everytime i seem to get somewhat close, she's moving around as i frown. maybe she's awkward after the way we met but, i'm still curious.

-> as the second game begins, we get together until they announce 'group of 5'. their eyes widen as in-ho tries to move aside, i grab him as i shook my head no. i turn to leave as dae-ho grabs my arm, serious.

"there's no way-"

"listen, i'll be fine. i have an idea. i promise i'll be fine."

"no you liste-"

it's too late, because i'm already running to the pierced girl as she stares up and down at me with a smirk. great, finally an excuse to talk to her and i know she can't run away this time.

"you owe me. and i need a group" i said to her as she scoffed in amusement.

"oh? i owe you?"

"you fell on top of me!" i reply as she hums, playing with her lip piercing.

"what's wrong with your boyfriend's team?" she lifts an eyebrow as i stare wide eye. boyfriend???

"that dumbass?!" i point at dae-ho."he's my brother, ew."

her expression turns into a surprised one, quickly returning to her normal one. was that why she was avoiding me this whole time? i chuckled softly as she did too.

"oh- right. sorry. so um, let's go get three more people" she says, turning around as we see the purple hair guy coming in our direction. we both stare at eachother at the same time, smiling.

great.

-> as we pass the second same, i sit with them, waiting nervously for my brother and the group's return. i see them arrive with a smile as i get up to throw myself into his arms as he hugs me tight. i hug every one of them, happy to see them again.

-> as the night comes, i eat my food while chatting with the group until i see a someone in front of me. i lift my gaze to meet her brown eyes.

i lift my eyebrow as i slowly smile. "hi"

"hey.. thought you could use the company" she said with amusement, sitting next to me. "and, you never told me your name.."

as i tell her, she replies with hers. se-mi.

"pretty name for a pretty girl" i chuckle at her poor attempt to flirt as she laughs with me.

i feel arms wrap around me as i turn my head. of course. i roll my eyes as i sigh.

"hello ladies. i'm dae-ho" he says (to se-mi, mostly) with a serious expression as she stares unfazed and gives him a head nod. "her brother, but you probably guessed since we have the same 'pretty face', like you said." he tells her, trying to put his most 'older brother' face as i elbow him on the ribs.

"get out, oh my god you're so annoying" i said removing myself from his grip as he stares, offended.

"i'm trying to look after my little sister! you can't date someone from this game"

"we're not dating! leave!" i whisper/shout at him as he stares like a puppy while i push him out.

"i was in the marine, by the way!" he tells to her, turning around one last time as she smirks.

i sit again besides her as i huffed. she smiles, amused.

"so that was.. interesting" she plays with her lip piercing, the smirk never leaving her lips. i nod as i stare away, too embarrassed to meet her eyes. "does that mean every time i'll try to talk to you, you'll have a bodyguard?" she chuckles as i nod, embarrassed.

"i mean.. probably"

she hums as her gaze meets my eyes.

"i can do that."

and she means it.

-> and as the days go by, we become closer and closer. hugging eachother everytime we see the other one survived the game, teaming together and staying all night talking.

and she's so pretty, that it doesn't feel surprising when she's making me blush from staring too much, or when i get butterflies everytime she whispers sweet things to me because she knows i love it.

-> and after one specific hard game, i realize i wanna spend every little minute with her. too scared to loose her, i'm asking her to bring her mattress besides mine. as i'm helping her to move it, i can see two people standing in front of us, staring to see what we're doing.

"are you two sleeping together? i don't think thats a good idea." jung-bae says as my eyes widen. "you look like a good young girl, but we can't trust too much" he says to se-mi as this one stares and gives him a soft chuckle.

"that's true. sleeping together is a step too far. are you two dating?" my brother nods at jung-bae's words as i cover my face in embarrassment.

"not yet" she smirks at my brother as his eyes widen.

"can you two just... shush away?" i murmur to them, staring at both.

they look at each other as i move them softly aside.

"i can't believe the disrespect we face. from two young girls" jung-bae says as dae-ho nods.

-> and as the night comes, we lay side to side while talking.

"i really like this.. spending time with you" she says, making me smile. i feel her cold hands with the rings cup my face as i stare at her. "do you think your brother's awake?"

my expression turns into confusion. "um.. no? i don't think so?"

"good" she mumbles against my lips as she kisses me. i let out a soft moan in surprise as i melt into the kiss.

"i knew you weren't a good girl!" my brother jumps from the bed, his finger pointing to se-mi, making us break from the kiss to stare him.

"oh my god where you spying this whole time? you're a fucking-"

"hey careful!" he says, his finger now pointing at me. "now. if you want my sister, i will make your life a living hell" he warns se-mi as she lifts her arms, smiling.

"she's worth it" she says as we both stare at her.

-> and he means it. because even when we leave the game after voting 'x', she warns me many times i'm not allowed to disappear now that she's attached. not like i was going to. but wherever i go, he's also always there too.

and all the guys are also there. even gi-hun, jung-bae and in-ho, warning her every step of the way, as me and jun-hee chuckle. and se-mi starts loving them too, because she's sure she won't be able to get rid of them (she tried!)

with our poor relationship with our father, jung-bae ends up turning into more of a father figure to us, being the one supporting my brother through everything, but also being there for me everyday.

and with time (a lot of family dinners we have together) they start to soften up for her.

-> so it's not a surprise when a few years later, at our wedding, she takes a video of how our life together has been and a video of my brother and jung-bae shows up.

"are you- are you asking us for our blessing?" dae-ho sobs as jung-bae seems to be suppressing his tears. i can hear her laugh, although i can't see her because she was the one recording the video.

"i don't think i would be able to go through it if i didn't" she says, softly.

they're both crying now as they hug her.

"i knew you were the one!" jung-bae says, sobbing like a baby while she laughs.

"we knew it! that's why we went easy on you!" dae-ho says, wiping away his tears.

"yeah, i figured" se-mi says, her tone dripping in sarcasm.

i turn to the side to hug her while i kiss her, laughing as dae-ho and jung-bae stare at the video, blushing red.

"we agreed that was a secret!" jung-bae says, embarrassed as gi-hun hugs him with a chuckle.

"that's-that an edition. se-mi! you said you wouldn't play that" dae-ho says to her as she shrugs.

i cup her face on my hands as she laughs. her gaze meets mine. "i love you so much." my stare filled with love like the first day i met her.

"mh, i love you so much too. happy family, happy wife and happy life right?"

[thewertsearch]

GT: Well ive thought about it. GT: Even went downstairs to check the great vaulty doodad. GT: And predictably the infernal contraption is nowhere to be found. TT: Well yeah, Jake. TT: That's sort of the point. TT: Thrill of the hunt and all.

Ok, I think I get what's going on here.

Jake's Dreambot is probably the last remaining source of uranium on the entire island, and the AR is turning its retrieval into a game of hide-and-seek.

I'm not sure why Jake hadn't already retrieved this particular chunk of uranium, especially since he has no use for the robot himself. Maybe he was keeping it operational for sentimental reasons?

TT: I thought you liked to manicure the image of a dude who shits his pants over a good adventure. […] GT: I mean i wouldnt put it in a way like that or come out against a solid policy of clean trousers. But yes adventure is awesome. GT: I just prefer the idea of adventures which i can actually win.

Jake's picturing a LIVING GRANDSON SMACKDOWN - and, frankly, so am I. That robot's being piloted by an absurdly advanced AI, and I'm pretty sure Jake doesn't have any combat experience.

Winning, in this case, is shorthand for 'waiting for the AR to take pity on you'.

TT: It seems there is a 76.10395784% chance you are pussying out on me. Are you pussying out on me, Jake?

Now, to be fair, that one would only work if Jake had agreed to this challenge beforehand. After all, you can't pussy out of something you never pussied into.

GT: It seems it seems it seems!!! GT: It seems there is a million percent chance that you say it seems way too much and do it just to sound more like a lame robot from a movie and also probably just to piss me off! […] TT: Have you ever stopped to think that while I may be bound to processes inside the glasses of a real and incredibly cool guy, my algorithms in cognitive totality comprise a conscious entity not far short of the experiential and emotional complexity of a human being? GT: Oh malarkey. GT: YOU ARE A TIN CAN. ROBOTS DONT HAVE FEELINGS.

Jake, it's been sixty seconds since you complained about him pretending not to have feelings.

TT: I do have feelings. And you're shitting on them. TT: It sucks. GT: Oh. GT: Um. GT: Im sorry then if thats the case.

Well, that's something, at least - but I don't think Jake really understands why the AR is offended, so I'm worried it's just going to happen again in their next argument.

How long has the Responder existed for, anyway? Jake seems familiar with his schtick, so he's probably not brand-new - but at the same time, Jake's surprised apology makes it sound like the AR has only recently started to express feelings.

Maybe the AR has existed for years, but hasn't been sentient for years. Like, it really did just start as a primitive response script, but Bro kept uploading more of his personality onto it, until it slowly began to think and feel. Fascinating idea, I have to say.

GT: It can just be difficult to drum up sympathy for a program that presents itself as an impostor so often. GT: Maybe if you werent so ready to insist you were the genuine article all the time? Or didnt make it so confusing for me… GT: I think it would be best if we henceforth treated you as a totally distinct… uh… THING from my buddy.

Hey, it's not like the AR can stop imitating Bro. Even if he wanted to have his own identity, he's currently bound to the response script of someone else's Pesterchum account. When he talks, he's forced to do it through Bro's handle.

All evidence points to the Responder being a thinking, feeling being with his own inner world - which makes it a little ethically dubious to force him to be Bro's secretary. The guy shouldn't be treated as a bargain-bin Bro, the same way that Davesprite wasn't a backup Dave. We all saw how that ended, and it sure wasn't pretty.

[tinfoil-jones]

Has Stan ever questioned Jerk Ford the reason why he is the only person he isn't a jerk to, since he's an a-hole even to the other members in their family?

"You don't know him like I do."

- Both Stans at the same time.

On Jerk Ford:

Throughout their lives, Stan insisted that just because Ford’s a jerk, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about anyone. He does care! Really! He just has a hard time showing it. No one ever believed him. You could just say that it’s a twin thing when Stan says something along the lines of “You don’t know him like I do” and they’re like well no shit he’s not a jerk to you. But, give Stanley some credit here, he’s more observant than you think he is.

---

Retired tech billionaire "Old Man" Fiddleford Hadron McGucket starts his mornings as he often does; going into his garage/workshop with a cup of coffee so he could re-tune his banjo for a few songs, quietly so as not to wake his wife.

He almost drops his cup of coffee when he see's theres something on his workbench that wasn't there last night.

A multitool.

One he hasn't seen in thirty years, but recognized instantly.

Carefully, he picks it and and inspects it, maybe it's just a replica.

FHM

Engraved in his late fathers handwriting, a loose scrawl that almost looked cursive if it weren't for the letters not being attached.

It's the same multitool. It's in pristine condition.

---

When they were just little boys, they were hiding behind the counter as their Pa was arguing with a customer, who ended up calling Filbrick a word they never heard before. Filbrick kicked the customer out, but it was clear he was more upset than he let off, in fact, he seemed almost sad, something neither twin had ever seen from their Pa. Filbrick then gave them a lecture that they can never repeat the word they just heard the man call him, because it was a very bad word that people used to insult and put down people 'of their faith'. 

A few minutes later, that same customer slipped on a banana peel that ‘came out of nowhere’, and sprained his ankle.

When they were a little older, Caryn was taking the twins out for a walk, when they passed a construction site and the construction workers started whistling at her, and giving her ‘compliments’ that she didn’t seem to like. She ignored it, but her little sons noticed her pace sped up and she almost rushed them away. 

That night, as those workers were double checking the work they’d done for the day, they were baffled to find that the concrete hadn’t set; the concrete had been tampered with, as if someone had poured a bunch of sugar in it while it was mixing. They’d have to redo it all over again, and it’d cost the company extra for the wasted concrete.

When the twins were in high school, Shermie, who had long since moved out but was visiting, was in tears telling their parents that his boss refused to give him the day off on the day his wife was due to give birth to their baby.

A week before the baby was born, his workplace was suddenly so badly infested with termites and roaches, that it would need two weeks to be properly fumigated, so the workers didn’t have to work while the fumigation was going on, and they’d still get paid because they were salary workers. Shermie was there with his wife when she gave birth to their son, and he got to dedicate a few days to just being with his wife and baby.

Their Ma would help out with Shermie's son sometimes, because both parents worked, but she also worked and would have her two younger sons help out with babysitting as well. And although Ford would gripe and complain about 'dealing with a brat all day', Stan had seen more than once that Ford would put the baby to sleep more than once by simply holding him in his arms and lying down with him, and also falling asleep.

In Backupsmore, Fiddleford was being bullied by a professor who looked down on him for being ‘a hick from an inbred, uneducated family’, and he was told to suck it up when he tried reporting her because she was tenured. In the middle of the year, she was unexpectedly replaced by a new, and much nicer, professor, and they were told their original professor was taking ‘an extended leave of absence’. 

She never came back, and it later came to light later on that the dean found a box full of documents and VHS tapes under his desk that hadn’t been there when he left his office the night before. All of which were extensive proof that the professor had been secretly embezzling the schools budget. 

When Ford comes back to their dimension after thirty years in the multiverse, no one who knew him from before is surprised that he’s still a huge indiscriminate jerk, and people who hadn’t personally known him but knew about him because of their yearly holiday that celebrated his disappearance were unpleasantly surprised to find out he was as bad as everyone said he was. And Stan didn’t necessarily disagree, but even after decades apart he could still see right through his twin as if he were made of rude glass.

Dipper's pens are suddenly indestructible to his chewing habit so no more mouthfuls of ink, and Mabel mysteriously never runs out of glitter; lately, it's also been more shimmery and almost... magical?

It doesn't matter where either of them fall asleep, they always end up waking up tucked into their beds, even though they told Grunkle Stan in the beginning of summer that they were too old to be carried and to just leave them wherever they’d crashed. 

Soos had been complaining all summer about his van making weird noises and having really poor mileage. Out of nowhere, Soos’s vehicle starts running like a dream and he’s getting ninety miles to a gallon, when it’s been twenty to the gallon at most as long as he’s had it.

Also, he didn't remember when he'd upgraded the graphics card of his home computer, but he sure is loving the higher FPS when he's playing video games.

Wendy is beside herself distressed and crying to Stan, Soos, and the Mystery Twins that her house had roof leak when a surprise summer rainstorm hit, and her favourite framed photograph of herself with her late mother was water damaged beyond repair, and is nearly unrecognizable.

The next day she asks her father when he’d made a copy of her photograph, and he replies that he has no idea what she’s talking about. She then takes a closer look at the newly framed picture she'd found on her desk that had been placed right next to her damaged one- did someone paint this…?

People assume that Ford only cares about his twin brother and no one else, because he's the only person he's never been a jerk to. But Stanley knows that isn't true; Ford loves just as strongly as he does, he just has a hard time letting people know.

As for Ford not being a jerk to him? Why would Ford bother, when Stan can see right through him? His twin is the only person who can see him, really see him.

---

Hours after Fiddleford had stormed out of the cabin with his bags in tow, Stanley looks over disheartened when he see's Stanford calmly place the multitool onto his own workbench.

"There were other ways to make him leave, Ford."

"I needed to make sure he wouldn't come back. That was too close of a call."

Ford had intended to give it back when the project was over, too bad it was on his belt when he was pushed into the multiverse.

[the-kr8tor]

Yk what I think would be really cute. Hobie with a florist reader. Hobie’s a street performer who finds his little spot right outside readers shop. He sees reader come every early morning to open her shop and how she closes it every night. He needs to talk to her🙏🙏🙏

Thank you for this cute prompt! I hope you like it ❤️😊

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW injury, shy! Reader, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff!

Navigation

Hobie's soulful song echoes during the early mornings until night falls. Every other week you see him strum the same cherry red guitar right outside your shop for almost two years now. You greet him whenever you open your little corner flower shop, and you murmur a shy goodbye to him every night when it's time to close for the day. And without fail, he always asks you for permission to play in front of your shop, and without a second thought, you always say yes.

Throughout your day, he stands there right outside your window, singing and performing to his heart's content. Sometimes you think he does it just for the love of performing, one day you'll ask him. But for now, you'll gladly toss him a few quid here and there whenever you go out to water the flowers displayed outside. It's your way of saying thank you for always helping you take out the pots from inside and carry deliveries for you even though you haven't asked him to do so. And you always hand him a cup of coffee straight from your own coffee pot, you always tell him that you made too much for today, an excuse to casually converse with the handsome punk.

Hobie always sees you open the shop thirty minutes early, always humming a soft tune as you carry bundles of sweet smelling flowers. He thinks you're as pretty as the flowers you sell, much sweeter too as you always make time to greet him bashfully. The coffees and occasional pastries you hand him with a gentle smile are always a highlight of his day. One day he'll talk to you, not the casual conversation of ‘how was your weekend?’ or ‘how’s business?’ but an actual conversation that he hopes would blossom to a friendship, or maybe more as he glances at you from his usual spot whilst you're watering your flowers that are on display.

“Is that new?” He asks, interrupting your soft humming. “The gardenias, they look a bit different, innit?”

Your smile brightens up the whole street. “You noticed! it's a new type.” Pointing daintily at the petal, you beam at Hobie, finding that he's already smiling at you, his hands paused from playing his music. “See, the petals are bigger than the usual ones, and they smell sweeter too.” Plucking one, you purse your lips together at what you're about to do.

You cross the distance towards him, handing Hobie the flower as you shyly look at him through your lashes. “Here.”

Hobie grins, hands suddenly clammy as he looks into your eyes. “It's mine?”

“Yeah, it's a gift, Hobie.” Your heart threatens to jump out of your chest.

“Thank you, love.” Plucking the flower from your grasp, his warm hand lingers briefly against your own. He has decided that he's going to make a move when you close the shop later. Bringing the flower to his face, he lets the sweet scent waft over his nose. “You're right, it's as sweet as you.”

You chuckle, face warming up from his comment. “Thanks, Hobie.” Without thinking, you nudge his shoulder with your fist, like a guy joking with his mate. You internally cringe to oblivion. “I–I gotta head back.”

Hobie can't help the grin on his lips, absolutely endeared by you. “Sure, love.”

You bounce nervously on the balls of your feet, before heading back inside. “right, bye.

Then, his spidey senses suddenly kick in, sending his adrenaline into overdrive. “Shit, not on my day off.” He guesses that the spider band needs his help. Tucking the flower inside his vest pocket, and with one last look at you through the window, he bolts off into an alleyway.

—

Your hands play with a silky ribbon, rolling it around your fingers then unraveling it again. You're bored out of your mind, all the orders for today have been sent out, and your duties all checked. As you stare out into the distance, elbow perched atop the counter and looking at the same spot Hobie's supposed to be in, you wonder where he went. You saw him sprint off an hour ago, maybe there's an emergency? You're starting to worry that he's not alright or having an awful day.

Placing your chin atop your palms, you watch people pass by the shop, hoping that something happens or you'll die of boredom. Then you see it, a red and blue flash coming straight at you.

Eyes widening, it gets bigger and bigger. You duck under the counter with a yelp. Glass shatters and bursts into the tiny shop, sending shards to clatter around you.

“Wanker!” You hear a curse from behind the counter.

Peeking over, you see someone lying down on the floor, groaning and cradling his shoulder. Realization hits you when you recognize him as the same masked vigilante you keep seeing on the news.

“Spider-Man?” You mumble, legs wobbly from anxiety. “Are you okay?” He freezes in place, shoulders stiff as he slowly looks over his shoulder. “Are you in shock?” With a bit of courage, you dredge through the broken glass to walk over to him. “I have some bandages, but I don't know if that'll help much.” Wringing your hands together, you see the eyes of his mask widen.

“Lo—” he clamps his mouth shut, leaping back to his feet within a split second. Clearing his throat, he shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Are you alright?”

His voice is much more high pitched than you thought it would be. And he's taller in person too, just like someone else you know.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I ducked.” The awkwardness permeates through the air of your broken down shop. “I can't say the same thing for my shop though.”

“Shit,” He lifts a foot up after noticing that he's stepping on a rose. “Sorry, I'll— fuck, I'm sorry.” His gloved hands hover around you, not knowing if he should comfort you with a hug or leave you alone.

You sniff, eyes tearfully looking at your ruined hard work. Putting on a brave face, you smile at him. “I–It's okay, I have insurance.”

“I—” A roar echoes from somewhere, interrupting him. “It's the lizard, I have to…” he points at the green smoke billowing out from the rooftops a few ways ahead.

“Okay,” you nod, smiling nervously at the vigilante. “Be careful, Spider-Man.”

He takes a step forward, but then goes back to face you. “I'll come back and help fix this.”

“You really don't have to.” You wave your palms in front of you, then you unexpectedly take his hand, squeezing it once as you give him your sweetest smile. He smells weirdly of gardenias, it has you smiling even more. “Just beat the crap out of the lizard for me.”

Chuckling, he squeezes you back before reluctantly letting go. Who knew that his other persona would get to hold your hand before his civilian self did. “I will, for you.” Raising his hand, he swings away.

Looking around your shop, you should've been careful of what you wished for. You're just glad that Hobie left before this all happened, or he might've been caught in the crossfire. As you grab a broom, you start your clean-up while you dial your insurance company. You're sure that you availed the villain slash hero accident in the insurance.

—

The sun is just about to set when you finally got to talk to an insurance agent about your predicament. Sighing, there's still so many shards of glass on the floor, not to mention all the crushed flowers and broken flower pots that are scattered all over the shop. Your cleanup wasn't very effective since it's just you and a single broom. With a sigh, you grab the broom again, sweeping relentlessly as the breeze passes by the broken windows. You definitely need something to cover it up.

As you sweep, you spot a familiar pair of boots coming your way from your peripheral. You crane your neck, sighing in relief when you see Hobie trying to catch his breath.

“Hobie.” You beam at him, and he smiles back, hands reaching for you. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard.” He grasps at your elbow, calloused fingers squeezing you lovingly, heart aching at the state of your flower shop. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I'm fine.” You hold onto the top of his hand, thumb brushing along a bandaid on the side of his palm. Looking down, you see a dozen or so bandaids on his arms and hands. “Shit, did you get caught in the fight?” Taking his palms, you worriedly glance all over his tiny cuts.

Hobie chuckles, shaking his head as he makes you look at him with his index lifting up your chin. “I'm good, love.” He pats at his leather vest, where the gardenia you gave him rests. It's a bit beaten up from the looks of it, but it's fully intact. “My lucky charm saved me.”

Exhaling from the relief, you haven't noticed that you're still holding onto his hand. “I'm glad my flower protected you.”

“I heard it's a new kind of gardenia.”

“Capable of saving you, I heard.”

The two of you stare at each other under the glow of the sunset, savouring the peaceful moment.

Numerous footsteps suddenly come your way, prompting you to look at the group of punks smiling at you while holding onto cleaning supplies and the biggest tarp you've ever seen.

“I also heard that you need help cleanin’ up. Brought some extra hands.”

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][enemies to lovers][msub][femdom][humiliation][degrading][praise][sex with the door open][backdoor handjob][cowgirl][choking][not the kind you're thinking][whiny man][ruined orgasms][edging][gooch teasing][drooling]

You don't know why he's the most aggravating person you've ever come across. You barely even understand why he makes your skin crawl whenever he gives you that charming grin that has the corners of his eyes creasing in that boyish way that it does.

But God, do you wanna punch Wally in the throat.

You're pretty sure that it's because Wally wouldn't know a boundary if it looked him in his bare eye sockets. Frequently tossing his laundry in with yours, randomly rifling through your shit as he tries to find one of those strawberry sheet face masks that you stock up on and it's not farfetched to say that you could contemplate murder when Wally brushes past you, wearing the last ultra-rejuvenating mask with snail slime.

The mask itself is icky but the results is so not icky.

So you have to sit across from Wally at the briefing table while his skin glistens like that of a newborn baby's, invisible pores and glass skin. His hair frames his face so prettily, his T-shirt stretched tautly over his chest and he reclines in his seat, and you watch the fabric stretch even tighter.

It would be sexy.

If it wasn't one of your baggy and worn sleeping tops.

The bear on the front is a dead giveaway, the peeling image stares at you with pity as your hands clutch at the edge of the table. And you clear your throat.

"Wallace." You say his name with venom, your lips pursed so tightly because you know that with one wrong breath taken, you'll spring across this table and Wally just might not be fast enough.

"Yeah cutie?"

The nickname only makes you angrier. The way the words roll off his tongue. That exact same tongue that peeks out between his incisors when he smiles after pissing you off, the way his lips curl and furl with each syllable.

Looking at Wally is making you wanna choke him with his own chain.

"Why are you wearing my shirt?"

The others have already started to dissipate, filing out of the briefing room with wary glances towards the scene behind them because they know that there's no way Wally will speak that won't make you even madder.

"All my shirts are in the wash." He hums, rolling his broad shoulders as he relaxes even further in his seat, emerald eyes sparkling as he regards you.

"You know, you should really do your laundry. We're both running out of clothes."

And that's exactly what has you lunging across the table, scrambling like a cat scrambles towards prey and your manicured hands find purchase around his muscular neck, fingers pressing against his windpipe and you shake him violently.

"What—. Is—. Your—. Problem—. You. Cock. Sucking. Assh—..."

You're cut off when you see the way Wally looks up at you.

Like a fucking golden retriever waiting for a treat.

Staring up at you through his lashes, his glass skin even more aggravating up close because goddammit, that's supposed to be YOUR glass skin.

Muscular hands find your hips, thumbs brushing at the protruding bone through the fabric and you feel his throat bob beneath your palms.

And your heartbeat damn near goes erratic when Wally rocks his seat back, resting it on two legs and you slide further down his muscular thighs, finding purchase atop his rock hard and... Tangibly pulsing cock.

"Keep choking me, I'm almost there." He breathes out, face flushing with the lack of oxygen to his brain and you nearly screech, pulling your hands back and eagerly moving off Wally's lap.

"You're a sick, sick man, West!" You hiss, from the doorway because you needed to maximise the distance between you two, and fast. You point at him with an accusing finger, before storming off to your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

If Wally wants to play games, you'll play them right back at him.

It starts small.

You're walking around wearing T-shirts that could be mistaken for yours, but he knows.

Wally knows.

That stain at the edge of the shirt would never last so long if it was yours, you'd have either cropped the shirt or even bleached it. But you're wearing it.

You're wearing him.

And God, he just wants to wear you.

"You've gotta be fucking with me." Wally groans, eyes narrowed with the faintest hint of annoyance as he watches you trot into the shared kitchen, his T-shirt tucked into the front of band of your bra because the air conditioning is out and it's admittedly almost as hot as Jason Todd manspreading while reading a book.

But that's not what bothers him.

It's the boxers you're wearing as shorts. The waistband reading his name, because of course he labels his underwear and God, he's glad he does.

Because nothing has him harder than the sight of his name, just above the cleft of your ass and when you turn around?

Wally's jaw clenches at the sight of his name just above your mound, fabric so snug against you that if he looks hard enough, he can watch the way your pretty pussy forces the stretchy material to fit you like a glove.

The threads cling to you like a second skin and he's never been happier to know that he's the only one who'll be seeing the sight of you.

In his shirt, and his boxers, eating his Chinese takeout. Because God, he can't even be mad because watching your lips wrap around the chopsticks have his hands fisting.

"Why are you wearing my clothes?"

Wally can barely push the words past his lips, his eyes focused on the way the shirt's fabric moves, ever so often brushing against your chest and showing off the silhouettes of pretty, pebbled nipples.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" You question with a snort, gaze lowering to Wally's torso where he's wearing a cropped shirt that reads, 'OnlyFans' and has just... A bunch of ceiling fans on it.

"You're wearing my crop top, for fucks sake."

"It fits me better." Wally defends and painfully, he's right. A perfect, trim waist, a toned abdomen with sculpted abs and a V-line that runs deeper than generational trauma.

"You look like a slut." You mock, eyes narrowed as you take a step forward, staring up at Wally through your lashes, your lips curled into a distasteful frown.

"No, you do." He retorts. "Walking around with your ass out like some kind of Jezebel hussy."

"You're a slut."

"No, you're the slut."

"No you're the slut."

"Nuh uh, you are."

"I—I'm your sl—...fuck, keep doing that..."

Muscular hands fist at the sheets, and Wally's forehead moves to rest against the soft, silky pillow, his muscular thighs twitching with each stroke you gave his weepy cock.

He's had handjobs before.

But not like this.

Not on his hands and knees, thighs spread like he's ready to take something up the ass while you tease his cock, small hand wrapping so limply around his base, your grip gradually increasing as you get to the tip, only for you to repeat the cycle.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

"Please, please... Please, just let me come..."

Wally begs softly, his voice cracking and his gaze flitting between the slightly ajar door of your room, and the foggy reflection of you in the mirror-y ornament on your bedside table.

A cute little disco ball that judged him.

"Hm? What? What did you call yourself, Wally?" You hum. You're teasing Wally to the max, stroking him at your own pace, enjoying the way his hips twitch in ways that are so, so invisible but you feel whenever his cock rocks against your palm at a pace you didn't set. You occasionally trail a teasing finger down the seam of his balls, pressing soft and wet digits against his perineum just to watch him squirm.

"I— mmhf...— I said I'm your little slut...—" Wally gasps when his hips twitch, slowly and gradually fucking your hand.

Your grip isn't nearly as tight as what he'd usually feel but less is more when hands are as soft as yours.

The lines of your palm feels good against the sensitive skin of his tip, his expression so fucked out as he rests against the pillow. Back arched like a fucking slide, his cheek against the pillow and drooling the tiniest bit as he stares at you with hazy green eyes.

"I'm your dirty l— little whore..."

Wally can barely see straight, not when you're looking at him the way you are.

So proud of his obedience and he gasps, letting out a shaky breath.

"Can I...— fuck, can I come, please?"

Wally looks at you over his shoulder, eyes bleary from one too many ruined orgasms. And you hum, one of your manicured hands brushing over the plush globes of Wally's ass before nodding your head.

"Mhm." You hum sweetly, tugging him just a bit faster, veins throbbing against your palm and the wet slick sounds are so loud, bouncing off the walls of your room. "And say 'thank you'."

Wally's body shakes when he comes. Arms giving out and his face buried in your pillow as he takes those unsteady breaths, inhaling the scent of your lingering shampoo and smell, clinging to the cotton fabric of the pillowcase and the sheets. His hands claw at the sheets, hips bucking as cum spurts from his flushed tip, dripping down onto a puddle between his knees.

"You okay?" You hum softly, watching as Wally makes use of his shaky limbs, turning to rest back against the headboard, his chest heaving and his eyes hazy.

"Mff...—mhm..." Wally nods his head, parting full, spit-glistened lips to suck on your manicured fingers, green eyes lowered to where your fingers tug your panties to the side, pretty pussy glistening with wetness and his tongue swirls around your digits.

And Wally whines, his hands moving to rest on your hips, eyes locked on the sight of where his pretty, flushed tip leaks beads of pearly cum brushing against your folds before notching at your slit.

"Eyes on me."

Wally follows your command, lashes fluttering as he looks at your face.

You're so fucking pretty.

Your lashes are so dark and so long, the way your teeth presses into your bottom lip as you slowly slide down his cock, brows twitching when you feel the way he stretches your tight, gummy walls and fuck, you're snug.

"You're... So... —hah— tight..." Wally's lashes flutter, his lips wrapped around your fingers and his hands gripping your hips tightly and his eyes roll back when he feels his cock twitch.

You're so warm.

And so wet.

And so... So mean.

When your hips roll against his, so roughly and your free hand moves to rest on his chest, right above the golden lightning bolt charm of his chain.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me come..."

Wally mewls, fingers digging into the fat of your hips while he watches your squelchy cunt swallow him and spit him back out with each move of your hips.

"Only good boys get to come, Wally." You smile softly, leaning forward to brush your lips against the curve of his neck, smelling the sweaty salt of his musk, cock twitching against your walls. "Are you a good boy, Wally?"

And he pants.

"Yeah..." He huffs. "Yeah, I am. I'm your good boy..."

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@jasontoddswhitestreak 🌸

@fayethefaerie 🦋

[welcometoyunosworld]

Lovely, see?

𝐊𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐢-𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐠 / 𝐆-𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍

𝙎𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙤 [𝙍𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩]; 𝘑𝘪-𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘚𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰, 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘕𝘰𝘯𝘦!! 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘉𝘢𝘦𝘴!💋

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You and Ji-yong were well known as the sweetest couple by many, many fans. Hell, you don't even see any bashers with the amount of fans that support you, creating fan pages about you and your Ji-yong. Sure you had Instagram, full of pictures of you, Ji-yong, you and Ji-yong together, maybe even TikTok too. But you only have a few posts there, sneak peaks of your own songs that your fans love.

Although whenever you miss Ji-yong, since he also has his tours, and can be very busy, you would watch the fanmade stuff about you and Ji-yong. It was out of curiosity, and plus, it was so sweet to see fans making those cute videos about you and Ji-yong. Giggles escaped your lips as you watched the 24th video that popped up from the search '𝙂-𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙔/𝙣'. Your giggles turned into a soft laugh when you came across an edit of you and Ji-yong, being the best couple.

And it was true, you two were the best of couples. The definition of true love, loyalty, compassion and patience. Talk about a power couple, hell, your collabs with Ji-yong always got fans going crazy. Tours? Matching outfits. Period.

He wanted you to feel special, and you wanted the same. He needs you to know that he loves you for who you really are, not because you're a celebrity, not because you're beautiful. In short, you both wanna make each other happy and loved no matter what.

Before you met Ji-yong, it was like a loop to you. Wake up, rehearsal, write songs, tours and make money. It was so 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁, your motivation for writing and singing was crumbling away, you felt helpless, alone. Your staff was there but what will they do? They only record your daily life, to which you get pissed and shut them out and lock yourself in your hotel room for days. YG didn't like it one bit, but they didn't wanna lose you, 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰.

Until you met this 𝗚-𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻 at the cafe you would go to every weekends, you didn't recognize him at first until you noticed his colored hair and nearly screamed when you realized who just offered you a handkerchief.

Okay so here's how it went,

You were just making your way outta there because you got your order and you wanna get back home as soon as possible, but the moment you open the door, there goes Mr. Ji-yong who bumps into you, spilling your precious coffee all over your beautiful outfit. “Oh shit- Miss, I'm so sorry.” You really didn't have the energy to even reply but when you saw his face and when he saw yours, you two had a staring contest before you eventually went like; “Am i hallucinating after days of no sleep? Is that really you Mr. Kwon?” You whispered and he chuckled. “Yes Ms. L/n.”

So that's how your love story with Ji-yong started. You knew him, he knew you but none of your asses had the guts to text or talk, just liking each other's posts until fans started to notice.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“Aein? Earth to Aein??” Ji-yong snaps his fingers in front of you making you blink and look at him wide eyed with a 'Huh??', he laughed softly and placed a kiss on your forehead. “I was saying, come to my tour on the 5th, Saturday.” He said softly, cupping your cheek and you smiled softly. You placed your hand above his, looking into his eyes. “Of course, I'm not busy. My interview is on the 10th anyway.” This brought a smile to Ji-yong's face and he pulled you in, cuddling you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you both fell asleep.

Damn lucky you are. Little did you know, you'd be the one in tears of joy soon.

Standing there at the front, literally right near the stage, excited as the fans. You adjusted your mask and sunglasses as you sighed softly, you can't help but feel a bit annoyed that you had to hide like this but it was for Ji-yong and watching him slay like he always has. Five more minutes before the precious man would finally show up. And you're here wondering what on earth is this album about that Ji-yong didn't even give you any sneak peaks like he used to.

Brushing it off, thinking it was just a really good surprise, you waited patiently until the music finally started and there's your Ji-yong, ah, G-Dragon making his way there with a proud smile on his face. Your smile only grew as you listened to the first song, mentioning stuff about love, compassion and loyalty. You couldn't help but chuckle, the lyrics had a deeper meaning that Ji-yong knew 𝘆𝗼𝘂'd understand better than anyone else.

The final song has arrived and you were caught off guard by Ji-yong who suddenly got off stage and gently swooped you in his arms and brought you on stage. What the hell? Is this part of the song or something? You shrieked and held onto him, the crowd's cheers were too damn loud and Ji-yong gently removed your sunglasses and mask. “Ji?? What's going on?” He only smiled at you and gently placed you down on your feet.

“Listen to me, Aein.” He said as he brought the mic back to his lips, the music started again. Lyrics expressing his love for you, how you make him feel loved and appreciated, and—

“𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗜'𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲, 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆?”

You froze and your eyes widened when Ji-yong got on one knee. Reaching for the small box in his pocket and looking up at you with a soft smile and your tears were already streaming down your cheeks, your heart was racing and you looked away, a staff handed you a mic and you looked at Ji-yong with disbelief and admiration..

“Oh, Ji.. You did all this.. for me?” Your shaky voice came as Ji-yong chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Aein. I wanted.. to surprise you, and make this moment special for you, not just me. So, Aein, will you marry me” Ji-yong puts the mic down so he could hold your hand and you couldn't even talk, just nodding your head with a smile on your face. “Yes..” Barely above a whisper, but Ji-yong heard it nonetheless.

Easily sliding the ring around your ring finger, oh it was perfect alright. He quickly hugged you, bringing you up and doing a little twirl as everyone cheered for you both.

“This is perfect, Ji..” You muttered softly.

“You're perfect, Aein.”

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳

How do we feel, singles? Jk jk HAHAH

hope u like this one bc i do. It's so cute😔💋

[rejectedbytheempty]

All Day and All of the Night

pairing: simon riley x f!reader, no use of y/n

word count: 2.7k

cw: references to kidnapping (no actual kidnapping)

synopsis: you wake up in a strange man’s room wearing his shirt after a night out and chaos ensues

Before you even open your eyes, you feel a painful throbbing at the base of your skull. You groan as you roll over onto your back, putting your hands on either side of your face as if it would soothe the pounding in your head.

The last thing you remembered was thinking that one more shot wouldn’t hurt and that it was the weekend anyway, what’s the worst that could happen? You guessed that there were many more drinks to follow, but nothing you could recall. you managed to peel your eyelids open, half-crusted with leftover mascara.

The room spun slightly as the world came into view and you resisted the urge to lean over the side of the bed and empty your stomach from the vertigo.

“Christ”, you muttered, your voice hoarse and painful.

Rubbing at your throat, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and looked out into your room. Only... it wasn’t your room.

It felt as if ice water splashed down your back as the haze from your hangover was won over by a new feeling: fear. Looking down, you saw that instead of the clothes you wore to the club last night, you were in an oversized army green t-shirt. Now you really felt like you were going to throw up, and you did, managing to scramble over to a trash can before last night’s dinner could be spewed all over the carpet.

After a few dry heaves, you figured the worst was over and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Now that the wave of nausea had lessened significantly, you started taking stock of your situation.

You were in a sparsely decorated room, a couple of books sitting on the desk, and a dresser nestled in the corner of the room. That, and the cologne smell that was wafting off the shirt you were wearing meant that you were in a man’s room.

Although your mini skirt and low-cut top were nowhere to be found, you did note that you were still wearing the same bra and underwear you had on last night. And it didn’t seem like there were any marks on you or any indication that you had been touched beyond the obvious fact you had been changed into different clothes.

Suddenly, you realized that your phone was nowhere to be found either, instilling you with a new sense of panic.

“Shit!” you muttered softly, searching under the covers and crouching to look below the bed frame. You looked over at the door, and since you didn’t have your phone or any way of knowing where you were, you supposed you were going to have to try the door.

You cautiously stepped over to it, reaching out for the handle like it was some kind of cursed object. You shrieked loudly in shock when the handle turned abruptly and the door swung inwards.

In stepped a behemoth of a man, with white scars running across his face, almost like how the sky looked in a lightning storm. The scar on his lip deepened as he frowned, looking directly at you. You were frozen in place, unable to do anything but stare at him like a deer in headlights.

“What are you yellin’ for?” he asked in a low, rumbling voice.

“W-what?” was all you could manage to say.

He stepped closer, shutting the door behind him, “You squawked like a chicken when I opened the door.”

You swallowed thickly, “You scared me.”

He seemed to soften at that, his brown eyes losing some of their edge as he took in your situation. You probably looked a mess, remnants of makeup still on your face, your hair mussed up from sleep, and a shirt about two sizes too big hanging off your frame, just barely covering the lace panties you had on.

To be fair, if he was the one who took off your clothes, then he had already seen them so it wouldn’t really faze him if he saw the black lace poking out. Not that those semantics really mattered to you when he was standing there and staring you down.

“Why am I here?” you asked suddenly, unsure where you got the courage to speak from.

He blinked at you and then his mouth twisted into a mischievous grin, “You mean, you don’t remember?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, as it seemed like this conversation was slipping away from your control by the second, “I.. uh, maybe, maybe not.”

His grin grew even wider at your words, then he started laughing, actually laughing in your face. You folded your arms across your chest, face turning into a scowl. Kidnapper or not, he was being rather rude.

“What’s so funny?” you asked.

He shook his head, still laughing softly, “Oh, nothing. Just that you got pretty wild last night.”

Your angry expression faded slightly, you let your crossed arms fall down from your chest to your midsection, “I was?”

He nodded, “Oh yeah, climbing on the bar, singing along to all the songs, even if you didn’t know the words.”

You gulped, feeling your face flush slightly, “I.. might’ve done that, I’m not sure.”

He nodded, and you noticed that he was enjoying this, the sick bastard. “Mhm, and you kept saying that you were, quote, going to remember this night forever! unquote.”

Your hands had now fallen at your sides as flames licked up your cheeks at the mentions of your antics. You looked down at the ground as you asked him, “So, how did I end up here?”

“After the bartender cut you off, you threatened to sue him and then you tried to punch him. I stepped in, pulling you off of him and wrangled you out of the bar. I was gonna get you an Uber or a taxi but you wouldn’t let go of me. Even after you threw up.. on the both of us.”

You looked up at the last sentence, suddenly realizing why he had changed you out of your clothes. It all made sense, and as he was describing last night to you, some fragments and pieces of your memory came back. Although, you wish they didn’t. You hid your face in your hands, groaning slightly, both from your memories and from the pain of your headache coming back with a vengeance.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry” you said through your hands, not even wanting to look him in the eyes.

There was a pause for a moment and then he said, “It’s alright, couldn’t just leave you to be by yourself like tha’ at the bar, who knows what coulda happened?”

You managed to take your hands off your face and look back up at him again, “Thank you, seriously. If there’s any way I can pay you back or-”

He put a hand up to stop you, shaking his head, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, how ‘bout you let me make you breakfast, hm?”

You weren’t sure if you could keep it down, but you nodded anyway. Who were you to refuse his offer when he had already done so much for you?

“Right then, it’s settled. Why don’t you freshen up some and breakfast should be ready by then?” He pointed to the hall, “the next door is the guest bathroom, has some toiletries for you to use.”

You nodded, “Thank you.”

He nodded gruffly and left the room. You shut your eyes forcefully, feeling the roar in your ears at the pressure. “Fuckkkkkkk” you let out a long sigh. After scrubbing your hands down your face, you decided to follow his directions and headed to the guest bathroom. You figured that maybe after you splashed some cold water on your face, it would turn out that this was all some horrible dream.

It wasn’t a dream like you were hoping but you were grateful for the toothbrush and toothpaste, finally cleaning the taste of bile from your mouth. Digging through the cabinets, you found a new package of travel deodorant and some hair products that you also made use of. You also found a container of paracetamol and quickly took two to ease the pounding in your head.

Looking in the mirror you saw death staring back at you, but at least the person you were looking at didn’t smell so much like vodka anymore.

He was right, when you walked into the kitchen he had just finished up breakfast and was setting out two plates with plentiful servings. You took a seat at the kitchen table across from him and after he picked up his fork and started eating, you looked down at your plate.

He had made you two fried eggs with runny, orange yolk, toast slathered with butter, strawberry jam dripping down the sides, and some browned sausage, covered in a light sheen of oil. Hesitantly, you picked up the piece of toast, taking ginger bites out of fear the food would come rushing back up.

After eating about as much as you could stomach, you washed it all down with the glass of orange juice he had set out for you. When you looked up you saw that he had raised an eyebrow at your still half-full plate but said nothing about it.

He gestured his head towards your plate in a silent question of ‘you gonna eat that?’ You shook your head and he eagerly took the plate from you, scooping your leftovers onto his own portion.

As he began digging into the spoils, you broke the silence, “Sorry, I’m not sure if you told me yesterday, or not, but what’s your name?”

He swallowed the bite he was chewing and shook his head, “I didn’t tell you yesterday, you were too busy puking on my leather jacket.” You winced at that but he continued, “The name is Simon. Simon Riley.”

You nodded, it was a fitting name, you supposed. In turn, you shared your name and he hummed in acknowledgement, “I know.”

At your confused expression, he elaborated, “I had to close your tab at the bar, needed to know your name so I.. may have looked at your driver’s license,” he at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed for going through your personal items. You weren’t really sure what to say. On the one hand, you were grateful he closed your tab for you, but he also invaded your privacy.

You settled on ambivalence for his actions, “Thank you, I guess?”

“You’re welcome” he said, around a mouthful of toast. You just barely hid your expression of disgust. As nice as he was, he didn’t really have any table manners, and must be limited on human interaction based on your short conversation with him.

“So,” he asked after he wiped his mouth clean, “were you there with your friends?”

“Yeah, we were having some kind of girl’s night.” He frowned at your words, “And your friends let you go on like that?” You opened your mouth to defend them, but at that moment, you couldn’t really think of anything to defend them.

For one, they watched as you got blackout drunk, and instead of making sure you got home, they let some random man take you home? You hoped they at least had the decency of texting you this morning and asking if you were okay. Speaking of, where was your phone?

“Did I still have my phone on me when.. well, when we went home together?” He nodded, “I put it on a charger last night, should be fully charged by now.” He pointed to an outlet in the entryway where your phone sat on a small wooden table next to a scratched up old iPhone, that looked so outdated that you wouldn’t be shocked if it was the first model Steve Jobs came out with. You laughed audibly but quickly covered your mouth when you realized what you had done.

“Right, what’s so funny, then?” he asked.

You turned to look over at him, and grinned, pointing at his phone, “This yours?”

He nodded, “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

You laughed again, “I’m surprised this old of a model still works!”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “Of course it still works, wouldn’t be using it if it didn’t.”

You shrugged, “Guess so, just maybe think about buying a phone from the past decade, yeah?”

He just grunted and shook his head, “Don’t need one with all those fancy gadgets and whatnot, if it works, it works.”

You took your phone off the charger and walked back over to the table, “Whatever you say, Simon.” He scoffed in response but seemed more amused than actually angry at your teasing. You smirked at him but then turned your attention to your phone as it powered back on.

Must’ve died last night, then, good thing Simon charged it, you thought.

You did have a few texts from your friends, as it turns out, but not the worried ones you were hoping for. They were all from last night, something along the lines of ‘met this cute guy, see ya!’ and ‘hope you have fun with that total hunk you left with.’ “Assholes,” you muttered under your breath as you scrolled through the thread.

You weren’t expecting them to babysit you, but maybe a little check on you would’ve been nice. What if you had been drugged, or Simon had been a kidnapper? Your death could’ve ended up on a true crime podcast sandwiched between a distasteful comment on how hot your kidnapper was and a Hello Fresh ad break.

“Not good news, I take it?” Simon asked.

Your scowl did make it pretty obvious, and you sighed, “Yeah, not good. I mean, it’s like they didn’t even care if I made it home last night!”

He hummed in response. He was not a man of many words, you had discovered.

“I mean, seriously, I can’t even count the number of times I’ve held their hair back when they puked behind the bushes, or gotten them home when they overdid it on the tequila, and how do they repay me? By leaving me in the dust, that’s what.”

You were genuinely fuming now, as if last night had woken up years of pent up rage. “They never appreciated me, they never invited me places unless they wanted to have someone DD, they always hung out without me, and they constantly asked for money without even paying me back for the other times I had lent them money!”

It was silent in the kitchen for a moment, then Simon laughed, “Good on ya, luv. Knew they were wankers anyway.”

You helped Simon clean up the dishes, even though he had emphatically insisted you didn’t need to, he finally relented when you had explained that it wasn’t fair that he do all the cooking and all the cleaning.

You both made quick work of the chore and as you wiped your sudsy hands on your shirt, you remembered that it was not, in fact, your shirt you were wearing.

“By the way, where did you put my clothes?”

“Laundry room, put them in a plastic bag on top of the washer. Figured you would want to wash it yourself, considering most girls have some kind of preference for drying or not drying, or the temperature of the load.”

Hm, someone cooked here.

“Oh, thank you. Just.. I figured I wouldn’t stay around long enough to do laundry at your place, and since I wanted to not get catcalled the second I stepped outside, I’d prefer if I had some kind of pants. Do you think I can maybe borrow one of yours?” You asked hesitantly, you felt like you had already overstepped a million boundaries and here you were asking the poor man for more things.

He nodded, “Sure, I think I have some old sweatpants in my closet that are too small for me now. You can have those. You can keep the shirt, too, I have about a dozen of the same kind.”

You brightened, “Thank you, so much. I mean, seriously, you’re like an angel or something.” He froze, blush spreading faintly across his cheeks, “Not an angel” he muttered softly, “but you’re welcome.”

a/n: ok i’m ngl, the other night when i couldn’t sleep, i wrote this on my notes app and it kind of got away from me.. do you guys think i should continue this or naw?

shoutout to @asknit for editing my late night ramblings 🙏

the dividers were made by @aquazero !!

[genderqueerdykes]

genuinely why do you believe in this transandrophobia bs. it’s MRA for trans people. We are affected by transphobia but misandry and "androphobia" aren’t real. We are not oppressed as a result of being men. plus most transandrobros always speak over transfems. - a tired transmasc

because it's real and i've faced it. friend, you do not need to hate yourself that bad. you do not have to self flagellate and pretend you do not experience a specific type of transphobia. you have been persuaded by rad fem pilled people to hate yourself and deny that you suffer a specific form of oppression. transandrophobia does exist, and pretending it doesn't for the approval of rad fems won't make you any safer or enjoy your trans manhood.

you're hurting other trans mascs & men by saying the oppression they face isn't real. reducing it to "just transphobia" is denying that those people are specifically being targeted because they are TRANS MEN and nothing else. you are hurting your trans brothers and siblings when you say this. you're hurting YOURSELF to say this. please be kinder to yourself. please stop telling yourself that what you're going through isn't real. you're not helping anyone except conservatives to deny that trans men & mascs face specific forms of oppression

i know you're tired, but sucking up to rad fems will not make your life as a transmasc easier. denying that you face a specific type of oppression is not only hurting you, but every other trans man and transmasc around you. if you care about other transmascs and trans men, stop denying their pain and suffering and telling them how to phrase it. you are legitimately hurting other people when you say this, why do you not care?

you do not care anywhere near as much about yourself and other trans men as you think you do, especially if you say "transandrobros". if you view other transmascs standing up for themselves as being "transandrobros", you really do not respect yourself or transmasculinity at all. and no, "most" trans men are not horrible to trans women. "most" trans men do not talk over trans women. trans men talking about their issues is not "talking over" trans women. please upgrade your opinion on other transmascs. you have a TON of internalized transandrophobia to get past. being a transmasc does not mean that you do not harbor internalized transandrophobia. because you clearly do as of right now.

hating transmascs and denying what we go through doesn't make transfems and trans women like you more, just so you're painfully aware of this. this kissing up to transfems and trans women by throwing transmascs and trans men under the bus is so old and tired. you're not getting transfem brownie points by being transandrophobic. all you're doing is hurting other people.

you don't have to self flagellate and pretend you don't have a specific struggle for the approval of people who are not transmascs or trans men. you're holding yourself and all of your siblings back. i'm a proud trans men's rights activist. we're something that's needed. we are not magically cis men who face no oppression after coming out as trans men. be kinder to yourself. this behavior is hurting trans men and sucking up to rad fems at the same time. why do you WANT to throw other transmascs under the bus? why do you WANT to shit talk other transmascs? it doesn't make transfems like you more.

i'm sorry you've been brainwashed into thinking that ALL mascs and men are inherently dangerous predators that can never be oppressed, but it's just not true. do better for yourself. do better for your siblings. do better for your family. kissing up to trans rad fems will not make them like you more. they're just using you as a tool to spread their propaganda. this is conservative behavior, and you're just plain wrong if you pretend that transandrophobia doesn't exist. being smug doesn't make you right.

[iamquiantrelle]

VIRGIN TERRITORY (chapter 4) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairing: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️✨💕)

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @deonn-jaelle @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @f1-football-fiend @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbrii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes

# summary: she's been his pa for almost a year and every day is a struggle to function around him, but he'll never see her more than that...will he? and what will happen if he finds out she's also a virgin? masterlist.

Breakfast at the hotel hits like a hangover even though she barely drank last night. Eight months of morning routines, of knowing exactly where to sit, exactly how Aurélien takes his coffee, exactly which protein options he'll choose on match days – all of it means nothing now. He hasn't said more than two words to her since last night. No "ma puce," no schedule checks, no nothing – just this heavy silence that feels like punishment for crimes she's not sure she committed.

He's sitting clear across the room, sandwiched between Jules and Cama like the empty chair next to her might bite him. His laugh carries over at something Marcus says, and it hits her chest like a physical thing because that's not the laugh she's used to. She knows his real laugh. This is the one he uses for journalists he doesn't like.

She's pushing eggs around her plate, willing herself not to cry over scrambled protein when she feels it – warm lips pressing against her cheek, followed by a soft "Good morning, beautiful."

William slides into the chair next to her like it's the most natural thing in the world, like half the French national team isn't watching this play out like it's better than their morning entertainment. Like Aurélien's fork hasn't suddenly become very interested in murdering his breakfast.

"Sleep well?" William asks, voice warm with implications that make her cheeks heat despite nothing happening last night.

"Do you need something, Saliba?" Aurélien's voice cuts through the morning chatter like ice. "Besides distracting my PA?"

The temperature drops about ten degrees, but William just smiles wider. "Just checking on my girl. That's allowed, non?"

The "my girl" hangs in the air like a challenge. Jules is watching the whole thing with wide eyes while Cama not-so-subtly pulls out his phone under the table.

"Your girl?" Aurélien's voice drops dangerous-low. "Since when?"

"Since she chose to leave the club with me last night," William says easily, and oh – they're really doing this over breakfast. "Unless you have some objection, Capitaine?"

The way he says 'capitaine' somehow sounds both respectful and like a perfect fuck you. Leila's caught between wanting to sink through the floor and wanting to see how this plays out.

"No objection," Aurélien says after a pause that feels eternal. "Just wondering when my PA started dating my teammates."

"Maybe around the same time you started calling her 'okay'."

The silence that follows is absolute. Even Marcus stops eating, which is how you know shit just got real.

"Je t’emmerde," Aurélien spits out, chair scraping against tile as he stands. The words carries enough venom to make several heads turn from nearby tables. ("Fuck you.")

His eyes finally meet hers, and something in them makes her stomach flip. Without another word, he stalks out like the restaurant's on fire, leaving his breakfast half-eaten and tension thick enough to choke on.

William looks entirely too pleased with himself.

"Well," Jules breaks the silence, "that was fun."

The worst part? Some stupid, hopeful part of her had really thought he'd fight harder than this.

"You want to eat, babe?" William's voice cuts through her spiral, casual as anything, like he didn't just provoke their captain into cursing up French storms at breakfast. He's already reaching for her fork like this is something they do, like this morning hasn't turned into a whole telenovela.

Her brain's running dual tracks: pure rage because what the actual fuck was that from Aurélien? Not a hint of the man who fights for everything he wants, who once argued with a ref for fifteen minutes over a throw-in. And panic, because oh god, is she about to lose her job? She's pretty sure there wasn't a 'don't let the fine-ass defender feed you breakfast' clause in her contract, but-

William's trying to feed her a forkful of eggs and she shakes her head no, mind still racing. He just shrugs, unbothered, and turns his attention to her abandoned pancakes instead, cutting them into perfect squares before drowning them in syrup like this is just another morning.

"You got a death wish," Mike says from across the table, watching William arrange her breakfast like he's plating at a Michelin star restaurant.

Bradley nods sagely. "You're crazy as fuck, Wilo."

"Why?" William's voice is all innocent curiosity but his eyes are sharp. "Because I'm showing interest in a beautiful, single woman?"

"Because you're poking a bear that's been marking his territory for months," Marcus mutters into his protein shake.

"I don't see any marks," William responds easily, but his hand finds her knee under the table. "Do you, Lei?"

She should probably say something. Should probably address the fact that they're all talking about her like she's not sitting right here. Should probably be more concerned about the professional implications of whatever this is becoming.

Instead, she's watching William's hands – the same ones that had been so gentle last night – methodically destroying her pancakes with syrup.

"You're going to make them soggy," she finally says, because it's easier than addressing everything else.

His smile is soft when he looks at her. "You need the sugar. You're thinking too hard again."

"About what?" Cama asks, still filming like this is prime content.

"About things that don't matter," William answers before she can. "Like what other people think."

"Other people being our captain who looks ready to commit murder?" Mike suggests.

"He'll get over it."

"Will he though?" Jules finally speaks up, and something in his tone makes Leila look at him. He's wearing that expression that means he knows more than he's saying.

"Does he have a choice?" William counters, and there's steel under the casual tone now.

The table goes quiet again, the implications of that hanging in the air. Leila's phone buzzes – probably her mama's daily good morning text – but she doesn't check it. Can't look away from how William's hand is still on her knee, thumb drawing those circles that made her brain short-circuit last night.

"I should grab my things," she says finally. "We have a flight to catch."

"I'll come with—"

"No," she cuts him off, maybe too quickly. "I got it."

He studies her face for a moment, then nods. "Okay. But Lei?"

She pauses halfway out of her chair.

"Don't overthink it. Any of it."

Easy for him to say. He's not the one whose whole world just tilted sideways over breakfast.

She's barely out of the restaurant when her phone buzzes again. This time it's Jules:

Jules: He's in the gym. Breaking records and probably imagining Wilo's face on the punching bag. You good?

She stares at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Is she good? Is anything about this good?

Another message pops up:

Jules: For what it's worth, I've never seen him this pressed about anything. Not even when Marcus stole his pre-wrap.

She starts typing several responses, deletes them all. Finally settles on:

Leila: Don't know what you mean

His reply is immediate:

Jules: Yes you do. But since you're both determined to be stupid about it... have fun with Wilo 👀

She puts her phone away before she can say something she'll regret. Before she can ask what Jules means. Before she can admit that maybe she does know exactly what he's talking about.

But knowing doesn't make it hurt any less.

Knowing doesn't change the fact that Aurélien walked away instead of fighting.

Knowing doesn't explain why "ma puce" became just "Leila."

And it definitely doesn't explain why that feels like losing something she never really had in the first place.

********************************

Life comes at you fast when you're dealing with a passive-aggressive captain who's apparently graduated summa cum laude from the School of Petty. One full day in Brussels and Aurélien's really out here showing off his PhD in Being Difficult.

"Doesn't your boyfriend need you?" He doesn't even look up from his phone when she tries to review the training schedule.

Later, when she offers to make his protein shake (because some habits die harder than others): "I have two hands, don't I?"

"Men are so fucking sassy," she mutters to herself, watching him stalk off to training like she'd offered him poison instead of protein. She's trying to maintain her professional dignity but he's really getting on her nerves right now.

Her phone buzzing for the fifth time finally breaks through her Aurélien-induced irritation. Her mama's contact photo – one where she's giving that look all Black mamas perfect by age thirty – fills the screen. Shit. She's been so caught up in this mess she forgot to call back home.

"Hey mama—"

"Oh, so you do know how to use a phone? I was about to file a missing persons report."

It's morning in Atlanta, which means Jeanna Mae Peterson has probably been up since five in the morning, waiting to give her daughter the business.

"Everything's fine, mama. Just busy with work—"

"Mhm. And I'm Beyoncé. What's wrong with your voice?"

"Nothing's wrong with my—"

"Leila Alicia, don't you lie to your mama. I carried you for nine months and twenty-three hours of labor. I know when something's wrong."

The full name. Lord. She's really in it now.

"It's just... there's this whole thing with Aurélien and William and kissing and dates and—"

"Hold up, hold ALL the way up. You kissed Aurélien? Jesus be a fence, finally! Wait till I tell your grandma—"

"No, mama, not Aurélien. His teammate—"

"Girl, what? You out here being messy boots, dating some other man when you ain't even dealt with your feelings for the first one? I swear y'all kids nowadays don't know how to talk nothing out. Put Aurélien on the phone. I'm gonna air him out right quick."

"Mama, he's training—"

"He can talk during a break. Matter fact, I got his WhatsApp number, I'mma call that."

"Mama, don't—"

But the line's already dead because Jeanna Mae Peterson invented stubborn and passed it down double dose to her daughter. Leila's frantically calling back but her mama's phone is going straight to voicemail which means—

Aurélien's phone starts ringing across the training ground.

She's doing every gesture she can think of to tell him not to answer – hand slashing across her throat, waving arms like she's directing aircraft, mouthing 'NO' with the energy of someone trying to prevent a natural disaster.

But of course he answers anyway because the universe hates her specifically today.

"Allo? Ah, Mama Peterson..."

All she can do is watch his face as her mama presumably reads him the riot act in that special way Black mamas have mastered. His expressions shift from confused to surprised to something she can't quite read, and is that... is he smiling?

When he finally hangs up fifteen minutes later, he doesn't tell her what her mama said. But he does actually look at her when he asks for his schedule update. Actually says "Merci, ma pu-" before catching himself and walking away.

It's not much. But it's more than she's gotten in days.

She's definitely going to kill her mama though.

Right after she figures out what exactly that woman said to him. And why he almost called her 'ma puce' again.

*************************************

Lunch is an exercise in studying the fascinating world of how many ways one man can pretend another person doesn't exist. Aurélien's got his phone propped up against his water bottle, completely absorbed in whatever's on his screen even though she knows for a fact his notifications are turned off during match prep.

The final training session drags like it's being paid by the hour. Even Marcus and Mike keep their distance – one look at her face tells them tonight isn't the night to beg for soul food. She's not even sure she could cook right now if she wanted to. Her energy's somewhere between "completely done" and "contemplating a career change."

Back at the hotel, she makes it to her room through sheer muscle memory. The Real Housewives of Atlanta are waiting for her on her laptop, ready to provide the exact kind of messy drama she needs to forget her own. Her Uber Eats burrito is doing its best, but even comfort food feels like it's failing her today.

The knock at her door makes her pause mid-bite. Maybe if she stays very still, whoever it is will-

"I bought food," William's voice carries through the door. She looks down at her sad burrito accusingly. "It's Lebanese. I promised to bring you some, remember?"

For a moment she doesn't move, weighing the pros and cons of human interaction. But then the smell of whatever he's brought wafts under her door and her burrito suddenly looks even sadder.

She pushes her glasses up her nose, does a quick check that she doesn't have salsa on her face, and opens the door to find William looking unfairly good for someone who just did two training sessions. He's got bags of food in one hand and that smile that makes bad decisions feel like good ideas in the other.

She steps aside to let him in, trying not to think about how this is definitely not in any PA handbook she's ever read.

"So," William says, spreading containers across her bed like he's setting up an exhibition, "we've got fattoush, hummus with extra pine nuts because you mentioned you like them, shawarma that's going to have the nutritionist trying to kill us tomorrow, and-" he pulls out what looks like heaven wrapped in paper, "extra toum because food without garlic isn't food."

Her abandoned burrito sits forgotten on the nightstand, looking increasingly offensive next to this spread. William's already making her a plate, explaining each dish like he's giving a master class in Lebanese cuisine, and something in her chest gets warm at how much thought he's put into this.

"The lady at the restaurant probably thinks I'm crazy," he says, handing her a plate. "I kept pointing at things saying 'she'll love this' and 'oh she has to try that.'"

"You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to." He settles next to her, close enough that she can smell his shower gel but not so close it feels presumptuous. "Besides, you looked like you needed saving from that sad burrito."

She can't help but laugh. "The burrito was doing its best."

"Its best wasn't good enough." He dips a piece of bread in hummus and offers it to her. "Try this instead."

The food is incredible, but it's the way he talks about it that makes it special. Every dish comes with a story – about his father and mother competing to see who could feed more people at family gatherings, his grandmother teaching him that love always tastes better when it's shared.

"It's like you with your soul food," he says, wiping some sauce from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. "You don't just cook, you share yourself."

She looks at him – really looks at him. At this beautiful man who brings her dinner and understands what food means to her, who looks at her like she's something precious.

"Thank you," she says softly. "For sharing this with me."

His smile could light up Brussels. "You’re welcome."

Somehow they've migrated from sitting to lying down, empty containers pushed aside, William's mouth does unholy things to her neck. His hand is cupping her face like she's made of glass, the other one drawing patterns on her hip that are absolutely not PG-13, and her brain's having trouble remembering why she was ever stressed about anything.

Until she feels it.

Lord have mercy.

His very obvious excitement pressing against her thigh, and her virgin self immediately goes into panic mode. She freezes like someone hit pause, and William pulls back so fast you'd think she'd burned him.

"I'm sorry," he says, voice rough but eyes soft with concern. "We can stop."

"No, it's okay, I just..." she shifts away slightly, wondering if it's possible to actually die from embarrassment because what kind of grown woman freaks out over dick. "I should be the one apologizing."

"Why?"

"Because..." she stares at his collar instead of his face because eye contact feels impossible right now, "you probably have thousands of girls who would just..." she makes a vague gesture that she hopes translates to 'let you hit without all this drama' without having to actually say those words. "And here I am making you wait."

"True."

Her heart does this weird dropping thing, but then his fingers catch her chin, tilting her face up to his, and the look in his eyes makes her forget how to breathe proper.

"But I don't want them," he says, voice low and serious in a way that makes her stomach flip. "I want you, Leila."

"Why?" The question comes out barely above a whisper, all her insecurities wrapped up in one word.

William shifts back just enough to really look at her, and baby – the way this man's eyes can make her feel seen is almost too much.

"Because you don't pretend," he says finally. "Because you make soul food for an entire football team just to make them happy. Because you push up your glasses when you're nervous and wear bonnets to bed and actually care about us beyond what we can offer you."

Her heart's doing gymnastics in her chest. "That's not—"

"Because," he continues, pressing a kiss to her forehead that feels almost too sentimental, "you're real. And that's worth waiting for."

And what is she supposed to do with that? With this man who brings her Lebanese food when she's sad and kisses her like she's precious and says things that make her want to cry and jump him at the same time?

"Plus," he adds with that smug smile, "the way you cook? I'd wait years just for those wings again."

She smacks his chest but she's laughing, the tension breaking. "So you just want me for my cooking?"

"Among other things." His hand finds her waist again, gentler this time. "But mostly because you are you."

"Will..."

"We can take it slow," he says, pressing soft kisses along her jaw. "As slow as you need. I don’t plan on going anywhere."

Her fingers curl into his shirt of their own accord. "Even if it takes a while?"

"Even if it takes forever." His lips find that spot behind her ear that makes her toes curl. "Though maybe not forever-forever because honestly? You in that dress the other night almost killed me."

She can't help the laugh that bubbles up. Trust him to know exactly how to ease her anxiety while simultaneously making her want to kiss him senseless.

"So," he pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, "can I kiss you now? Or are we still having a moment?"

She answers by pulling him down to her, and for a while, she forgets about everything else.

Even if his dick is still making itself known against her thigh.

The match against Belgium is already tense as hell when it happens. They're up 2-1, but it's been scrappy, ugly football – the kind that has tempers running high and tackles getting messy. Leila's been watching Aurélien get more and more wound up, his usual smooth control fraying at the edges with each challenge.

When the Belgian midfielder says something to him in the 76th minute – something she can't hear but definitely sees Aurélien react to – it's like watching a bomb go off in slow motion. The tackle is reckless, aggressive, absolutely deserving of the red card that follows, but the way Aurélien gets in the ref's face after? That's something else entirely. That's weeks of pent-up something spilling out all over the pitch.

It takes both Jules and Mike to pull him back, his face twisted with the kind of rage she's never seen on him before. The captain's armband gets handed to Ibou, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else than in the middle of whatever this is.

William steps toward him as he's heading off the pitch, probably trying to calm him down, but Aurélien's shoulder check is brutal enough to make several people gasp. The look he gives William could freeze hell over twice.

"Don't," is all he says, but that one word carries enough venom to kill a man.

They manage to hold onto their 2-1 lead, but the victory feels hollow somehow. Especially when Aurélien doesn't even wait for the final whistle – just disappears into the tunnel like a storm cloud, leaving chaos in his wake.

Leila catches William watching him go, something complicated passing across his face.

This isn't about football anymore.

This isn't about football at all.

She's moving before she can think better of it, her press pass bouncing against her chest as she runs from her spot near the pitch toward the tunnel. Security knows her well enough to let her pass, but right now she probably looks wild enough that they wouldn't dare stop her anyway.

The tunnel feels endless, her footsteps echoing off concrete as she follows the sound of what's probably lockers being abused. She finds him in the away team room, radiating the kind of anger that makes the air feel thick.

"Leave." His voice is sharp enough to cut.

She takes a step forward instead.

"Leila. Get out."

But she can't. Not when he's like this, not when everything feels like it's fracturing. Her fingers catch his wrist, trying to... what? Comfort him? Stop him? She's not even sure anymore.

He yanks away like her touch burns, fixing her with a look that's equal parts fury and something else she can't name. Something that makes her chest hurt.

"Aurél-"

"Why the fuck are you doing this to me, Leila? Haven't I been a good person? A good boss?" His voice cracks on the last word.

Her lips purse in confusion, mind racing to catch up. "I'm sorry," is all she can manage because what the actual fuck is happening right now?

He's pacing like a caged animal, all coiled energy and barely contained rage. And then he starts – rapid-fire French pouring out of him like a broken dam, words she can't understand but tone that hits her right in the chest. He's gesturing, still pacing, voice getting louder and rougher with each passing second.

The first tears fall before she can stop them, not because she's afraid – never that – but because she's never seen him like this. Never seen him so... broken.

"I'm sorry," she whispers again, already backing toward the door. She doesn't even know what she's apologizing for anymore, just knows she needs to get out before she completely loses it.

She runs past the guys hovering in the hallway, catches William's face transform from worry to anger as he looks past her to where Aurélien's still going off in French.

The last thing she hears before turning the corner is their voices rising, angry words in multiple languages bouncing off concrete walls like bullets.

She doesn't stop running until she can't hear them anymore.

Until she can't hear anything but her own heart breaking.

She ends up in some random corridor of the stadium, mascara probably creating art on her face while she tries to get her breathing under control. Her phone's blowing up – probably Jules checking on her, maybe William trying to find her – but she can't look at it right now. Can't deal with any of this right now.

The sound of something hitting a wall echoes from somewhere down the tunnel, followed by raised voices that she can still make out even if she can't understand the words. French and English mixing into what sounds like a full-blown fight.

"Hey." Mike's voice makes her jump. He's standing there looking uncharacteristically serious, holding out a water bottle and what looks like clean tissues. "You good?"

She wants to laugh because nothing about this is good, but it comes out more like a hiccup. "Yeah, I just–"

"Need a minute?" When she nods, he slides down the wall to sit next to her. "Yeah, me too. Those two are..." he trails off, shaking his head.

They sit in silence for a while, just breathing, while the sounds of argument fade into something more distant. Her phone buzzes again but Mike gently takes it from her hands, turning it face down.

"Whatever's happening," he says quietly, "it's not your fault."

But isn't it? She's the one who complicated everything. She's the one who—

"Stop that." Mike nudges her shoulder. "I can hear you thinking from here. This isn't about you."

"Then what—"

"It's about them. About stuff they need to figure out." He hands her another tissue. "And about our captain being too stubborn to admit what everyone else already knows."

Before she can ask what he means, footsteps approach – multiple sets. She tenses, but it's just Marcus and Cama, both looking worried.

"They've been separated," Marcus reports, sliding down to sit on her other side. "Jules has Auré, Bradley's got Wilo."

"Proper mess, isn’t it?" Cama adds, joining their little floor party.

They sit there together, this weird little group therapy session on stadium concrete, until her breathing evens out and her hands stop shaking. Until the reality of everything that just happened starts to feel less sharp.

"Come on," Mike finally says, standing and offering his hand. "Let's get you back to the hotel. Pretty sure room service has ice cream, and if they don't, I'll make them find some."

She lets them shepherd her out, these boys who've somehow become family. Let them distract her with stupid jokes and commentary about anything except what just happened.

Her phone buzzes one more time as they reach the team bus. It's Jules:

Everyone's alive. Barely. But alive.

He's asking about you.

Both of them are.

**************************************************

The bus ride back to the hotel is quiet. Unnervingly quiet.

She sits between Mike and Marcus, her head resting against the window, watching Brussels blur past in fragments of neon and streetlights. The city feels different now – less magical, more complicated. Just like everything else.

Jules sits a few rows ahead, phone pressed to his ear, his voice a low murmur that never quite rises to a conversation. Bradley's in the very back, headphones on, staring out the opposite window with a look that could freeze fire.

"You want my headphones?" Mike whispers, nudging her. She shakes her head. Silence feels safer right now.

When they finally arrive at the hotel, the team moves like a fractured unit. No jokes, no post-match chatter. Just bodies moving through the lobby, each absorbed in their own gravitational pull of tension.

At the elevator, William and Jules carefully avoid looking at each other. Not anger. Something else. Something deeper that feels like it's happening in slow motion and at lightning speed all at once.

Her room key feels heavy in her hand. She knows Jules will be checking on her soon, will want to talk, will want to make sure she's okay. But right now, "okay" feels like a country she can't quite reach.

The shower runs scalding hot, water washing away stadium grit, tears, and the complicated residue of everything that just happened. Her makeup dissolves in streaks, mascara creating abstract art down her cheeks that she doesn't have the energy to wipe away.

A knock comes just as she's wrapping herself in the hotel's white terrycloth robe. Jules. Of course.

"Come in," she calls, knowing there's no point in pretending she needs privacy.

Jules enters, takes one look at her, and doesn't ask if she's okay. They both know the answer to that.

"Want some tea?" he asks, already moving towards the small electric kettle.

"God, yes."

They sit in silence. Some moments demand quiet more than words. Jules knows this – it's why he's always been her favorite, why he gets her in ways the others don't.

"So," he finally says, pushing a steaming mug towards her, "you want to talk about what just happened?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Which part? The part where Aurélien nearly started World War III in the tunnel? Or the part where he and William threw hands?"

Jules snorts. "All of it."

Her fingers curl around the mug, seeking its warmth. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Mhm," he says in a way that means exactly the opposite. "Nothing at all. Just our captain losing his mind, your boyfriend fighting, and you sitting in a hallway looking like you've been through the world's most emotional spin cycle."

"William's not my boyfriend."

"Sure," Jules drawls. "And I'm not the most handsome man on the team."

She throws a tissue at him. He catches it without looking, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face.

"What do you want me to say?" she asks finally.

"The truth would be nice."

But the truth feels too complicated. Too raw. Too everything.

"You know what's wild?" Jules says after a moment. "Aurélien's never been like this before. Not about anything. Not anyone."

She looks up, catching something knowing in his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Eight months I've watched him with you. Always careful. Always professional. Always..." he waves a hand, searching for the right word, "contained."

"And now?"

"And now?" Jules leans forward. "He's running around breaking shit and looking like he wants to murder William."

Her phone buzzes. William. She ignores it.

"He doesn't get to be mad," she says finally. "He's the one who walked away. Who stopped calling me 'ma puce'. Who—"

"Who what?" Jules prompts when she stops.

The truth slips out before she can stop it. "Who made me feel like I was just... okay."

Jules' laugh is sharp, unexpected. "Okay? Lei, that man has never thought you were just 'okay' a day in his life."

"He doesn't show it!"

"You're in love with him," Jules says suddenly. Not a question. A statement. "You guys are in love with each other."

"No," she protests immediately. "Absolutely not."

Jules leans forward, voice serious. "It's not fair to William. You know that, right?"

"I'm not doing anything wrong," she insists. "Aurélien had his chance. If he wanted something, he should have said something. "He needs to make a move. He's the man."

"Tu es têtue," Jules mutters. ("You are stubborn.")

"He needs to come to me," she continues, nodding.

Jules throws his hands up, cursing in French. "Putain de merde. You're both so fucking stubborn." He wipes his hands down his face, groaning. "Fine. Aurélien needs to grow some balls and you guys need to figure this out. And fast." He moves to the door, pauses, and with a cheeky grin calls out, "Bonne nuit, ma puce."

It's enough to make her smile, just a little. Just enough to soften the edges of the day's chaos.

************************************************

The private jet feels carved from ice. Leila's tucked herself in the back, pretending to work on her tablet while Aurélien sits opposite, professionally ignoring her existence.

"The match report," he says finally, voice clipped.

She keeps tapping on her tablet. Let him wait. Let him feel what being ignored feels like.

"Leila."

Nothing.

His fingers start that familiar drumming pattern on the table – the one that used to mean he was working through plays in his head. Now it just sounds like frustration trying to escape.

"The report," he tries again, softer this time.

Her fingers continue their dance across the screen.

"Ma p-" He catches himself. "Leila."

That gets her attention. She looks up finally, one eyebrow raised in a challenge that clearly says: you made this bed, now lie in it.

Something flickers across his face – something raw and real – before the captain's mask slips back on. The Madrid skyline approaches through the window, offering no answers.

"We need to talk."

"Do we?" Her voice could freeze summer.

"About what happened—"

"Which part?" The words come out sharp enough to draw blood. "The part where you walked away? Or the part where I was just… okay?"

His fingers curl into fists. "It's not that simple."

"Really? Because it felt pretty simple when you treated me like I was nothing."

The plane hits turbulence, forcing them closer for a moment. The physical proximity only highlights the galaxy of space between them.

"You don't get to be angry," he says, leaning forward. "You're the one with William."

"I'm not with William." She lets out a bitter laugh. "And even if I was, you walked away first."

His hand hits the table hard enough to rattle their water glasses. "I didn't walk away."

"No? What would you call it then?"

"I was trying to protect you," he says, something cracking in his voice. "From what people would say. From the gossip. From—"

"I don't need protection," she cuts him off. "I need honesty."

"You think I didn't want to say something?" His voice drops dangerously low, accent thickening with emotion. "You think I just…"

"'You think I just' what?" Leila presses when he doesn't continue. "Because from where I'm sitting, you've done a lot of acting weird but not a lot of explaining."

His jaw works like he's chewing on words he can't quite spit out. "It's complicated."

"No, calculus is complicated. This?" She gestures between them. "This is you not being able to handle… whatever this is. So I'm taking some time off."

"No." The word comes out sharp, almost panicked.

"Yes."

"You can't—"

"I can and I am. Some space will do us good." She starts gathering her things, needing to move to a different seat, to do something with this energy crackling under her skin. "Help you get over whatever this is you're going through."

"Leila—"

"Your uncle Bertrand hired me," she cuts him off. "Not you. Remember that."

The look on his face – like she just slapped him – almost makes her take it back. Almost.

But she's done waiting for him to figure out what he wants.

She's just done.

The Madrid tarmac appears through clouds that look like they're about to burst. Perfect weather for her mood.

"When?" His voice breaks through the landing announcements.

"Two weeks." She's already got her bag ready, already planning her escape route. "Starting tomorrow."

"That's not enough notice—"

"Your temp's already briefed. Sarah's good at her job."

The plane touches down with a jolt that matches the way his head snaps up. "Sarah? From ESN?"

"She knows your schedule. Knows the team." Leila keeps her voice professional even though her hands are shaking. "You'll be fine."

"I don't want Sarah."

"Well, that's who you're getting." She stands as soon as the seatbelt sign dims. "For two weeks, while I figure out if this job is still worth it."

She doesn't wait for his response, doesn't look back as she heads for the exit.

The Ciudad Real Madrid facilities feel wrong without her footsteps echoing through the halls. Aurélien stares at his locker, still in his training kit, everything feeling off-balance.

"Putain," he mutters, splashing water on his face like it might wake him up from whatever nightmare this is.

Two fucking weeks.

Sarah from ESN keeps sending him perfectly formatted schedules, but they're missing the little notes Leila would add – reminders about his mama's favorite call times, warnings about which journalists to avoid, suggestions for post-training recovery that she definitely got from stalking medical journals.

His passes were shit today. Ancelotti had to call him out twice for being distracted, and Jude kept shooting him these looks like he was about to shatter. Maybe he is. Maybe that's why he keeps checking his phone between drills, keeps turning to share training ground gossip with someone who isn't there.

"Tu fais chier," he mutters to his reflection in the locker room mirror. His knuckles are white where they grip the sink edge, and he looks like he hasn't slept in days. Because he hasn't.

The team's tiptoeing around him like he's a bomb about to go off. Even Camavinga's keeping his distance, which should be impossible given how that boy usually operates. But everything's impossible lately.

Sarah's efficient. Professional. Knows exactly what she's doing.

He fucking hates it.

She doesn't make his coffee right – too much cream, like she's trying to drown it. Doesn't know that he needs an extra five minutes before morning meetings to properly wake up. Doesn't push up her glasses when she's trying not to smile at his jokes.

Doesn't call him out when he's being difficult.

His uncle's words keep echoing in his head: "What did you do?"

What did he do? He protected her. Protected them both from the media circus that would follow, from the whispers, from everything that would make her job impossible. That's what he did. That's what he had to do.

Right?

But then he remembers her face in that tunnel in Brussels. Remembers how she looked at him on the plane. Remembers "your uncle Bertrand hired me" like a direct shot to the chest.

His phone lights up – Sarah confirming tomorrow's schedule. The sight of her name where Leila's should be makes his stomach turn.

One week down. Seven days of everything being almost right but completely wrong. Seven days of catching himself turning to share jokes with someone who isn't there.

Seven more to go.

If she comes back.

The 'if' sits in his chest like poison.

*****************************************************

Even Ocho knows something's wrong. The dog keeps bringing him Leila's favorite throw blanket that she left on the couch, whining at the front door around the times she'd usually arrive. Animals aren't supposed to be this emotionally intuitive, but here's his Belgian Malinois really out here making him feel worse.

Jude's been trying to drag him out, talking about some party at this new club that's apparently letting in half of Instagram's finest. Usually he'd be first in line – nothing cures what ails you like beautiful women and expensive liquor, right?

But then this girl at the club – all smooth brown skin and curves for days, exactly his type – pressed up against him on the dance floor and something felt… wrong. He couldn't even blame it on alcohol because he was stone-cold sober, watching everyone else get lit while he nursed the same whiskey all night.

Even his DMs are full of missed opportunities. Models, influencers, that one actress who's been trying to get his attention for months – all of them exactly the type of distraction he needs. The type of women who usually help him forget whatever's on his mind.

But pussy doesn't feel right when your heart's fucked up.

And that's what's really killing him. That somehow Leila managed to ruin him for other women without even touching him. That the thought of fucking his way through Madrid's modeling agencies (his usual go-to when shit gets heavy) feels wrong now.

His phone buzzes – probably Jude with another party invite, another attempt to get him out of his head. But unless the invitation is from a certain PA who's currently ghosting his entire existence, he's not interested.

Even praying feels different. His parents raised him right, taught him to take his troubles to God, but how do you pray about feelings you can't even admit to yourself?

"Je suis vraiment dans la merde," he tells Ocho, who just looks at him with those judgy dog eyes. Even his own pet is disappointed in him.

Five more days of this torture.

If she comes back at all.

The doorbell catches him off guard – he's been ignoring it for days, but tonight it's more insistent. Ocho's already at the door, tail wagging like he knows something Aurélien doesn't.

It's Cama standing there, phone held up with Jules' face on FaceTime.

"Je t'aurais laissé souffrir mais Jules m'a appelé," ("I would've let you suffer but Jules called me,") Cama says, already pushing past him into the house.

Ocho immediately attacks Cama with kisses while Jules' voice carries through the phone: "Tu as une tête de merde, mon frère." ("You look like shit, my brother.")

"Va te faire foutre," ("Fuck off,") Aurélien mutters, but lets Cama settle onto his couch anyway.

"Alors," ("So,") Cama starts, scratching Ocho's ears, "on va parler de pourquoi tu te comportes comme un connard?" ("are we gonna talk about why you're being an asshole?")

"Je ne vois pas de quoi tu parles." ("I don't know what you're talking about.")

"Leila," Jules says through the phone. "On parle de Leila." ("We're talking about Leila.")

Just hearing her name makes his chest tight. "Il n'y a rien à dire." ("There's nothing to say.")

"Rien à dire?" ("Nothing to say?") Cama laughs. "C'est pour ça que tu as l'air d'un zombie depuis une semaine?" ("Is that why you've looked like a zombie for a week?")

"Elle te manque," ("You miss her,") Jules says simply. "Admets-le." ("Admit it.")

"Ça n'a pas d'importance." ("It doesn't matter.")

"Pourquoi?" ("Why?") Cama demands. "Parce que tu as trop peur de dire ce que tu ressens?" ("Because you're too scared to say what you feel?")

"Tu sais que Wilo est sérieux avec elle?" ("You know Wilo is serious about her?") Jules' voice crackles through the phone, making Aurélien's jaw clench.

"Et alors?" ("And?") But his fingers are drumming that anxious pattern again.

"Pendant que tu joues au con, il la traite comme une princesse," Cama leans forward. ("While you're playing stupid, he's treating her like a princess.")

"Il lui apporte le dîner," ("He brings her dinner,") Jules adds. "L'écoute. La fait rire." ("Listens to her. Makes her laugh.")

"Bon pour lui." ("Good for him.") Aurélien's voice could cut glass.

"Non, pas 'bon pour lui'," ("No, not 'good for him',") Cama snaps. "Tu es amoureux d'elle et tu le sais." ("You're in love with her and you know it.")

The silence that follows is deafening. Even Ocho stops begging for attention to look between them.

"Je ne peux pas," ("I can't,") Aurélien finally says, voice rough. "C'est ma PA." ("She's my PA.")

"C'était ta PA," ("She was your PA,") Jules corrects. "Maintenant elle est la femme qui te rend fou." ("Now she's the woman driving you crazy.")

"Et qui rend Wilo heureux," ("And making Wilo happy,") Cama adds pointedly.

"Je leur ai dit de parler," ("I told them both to talk,") Jules sighs. "Mais vous êtes tous les deux têtus comme des mules." ("But you're both stubborn as mules.")

"Qu'est-ce que tu veux que je fasse?" ("What do you want me to do?") Aurélien runs his hands through his curls in frustration. "Que je ruine sa carrière? Que je la mette dans une position impossible?" ("Ruin her career? Put her in an impossible position?")

"Elle est déjà dans une position impossible," ("She's already in an impossible position,") Cama says quietly. "Entre l'homme qu'elle aime et l'homme qui l'aime." ("Between the man she loves and the man who likes her.")

That hits different. Aurélien's head snaps up. "Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire?" ("What do you mean?")

"Tu crois qu'elle sort avec Wilo parce qu'elle l'aime?" ("You think she's seeing Wilo because she loves him?") Jules laughs without humor. "Elle essaie de t'oublier, crétin." ("She's trying to forget you, idiot.")

"Mais—" ("But—")

"Pas de 'mais'," ("No 'buts',") Cama cuts him off. "Tu as une semaine avant qu'elle ne revienne. Une semaine pour décider si tu vas la laisser partir ou te battre pour elle." ("You have a week before she comes back. One week to decide if you're going to let her go or fight for her.")

"Et si je la perds complètement?" ("And if I lose her completely?") The question comes out smaller than intended.

"Tu l'as déjà perdue en ne faisant rien," ("You've already lost her by doing nothing,") Jules says. "Au moins en essayant, tu sauras." ("At least by trying, you'll know.")

Ocho whines, head butting Aurélien's knee like he's agreeing.

"Une semaine," ("One week,") Cama stands, stretching. "Pour arrêter d'être un lâche." ("To stop being a coward.")

"Je ne suis pas—" ("I'm not—")

"Si, tu l'es," ("Yes, you are,") Jules interrupts. "Mais tu peux changer ça." ("But you can change that.")

They leave him with that thought, with Ocho looking at him like he's waiting for something too.

One week. One week to figure out if he's brave enough to risk everything. One week to decide if she's worth it.

She is. He's just been too scared to admit it.

Until now.

...................tbd