#this also ended up way longer then i thought it would

[rorydrawsandwrites]

So we've all been having fun giving him bug wings right

(I gotta mention that this post in particular inspired me here... they're so little. His ass is not flying anywhere unless he's thrown)

And I do see the logic here. He has the li'l antennae after all (and him being a lightning bug would be especially fitting). But I'd like to point out that as a Fleischer-esque mix-and-match creature, he does also have a pig nose... therefore I suggest:

Pig. Hoofs.

I rest my case.

Also a little bonus... the touch-starved Luxposting has gotten to me. Pet the creature

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── UNZIP ME ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

𐙚 pairing: nerd!rafe x perv!reader

𐙚 summary: rafe has difficulty undressing you.

𐙚 warnings / tags: smut, some fluff, MDNI!

𐙚 author's note: based on a video sent by nerd!rafe’s #1 stan @raahosh i hope you like it queen <3

PERV MASTERLIST 𐙚 RAFE MASTERLIST

after you and rafe started dating, your favorite part about going out was no longer the part where you’d flirt with everything that moved. it was no longer about batting your eyelashes at some poor bastard and making him think you’d be going home with him if he bought you and your girls a round of shots.

no.

you never thought you’d become one of those girls, but somehow, when you fell in love with rafe, your favorite part about going out was coming back; even better if the place you came back to was his dormitory.

you’d sneak into your boyfriend’s dorm with your heels in your hand, still wearing the dress you’d worn out that night. rafe would boil some water while you changed into one of his shirts that were too big on you (usually something related to star wars). he’d pour the boiled water into two noodle cups, and help you take your makeup off because you were ‘too tired’ when in reality you just liked having him take care of you.

the two of you would then cuddle up in his bed, eating your cup noodles while you told him anecdotes about your night, all the while some show was playing on his laptop.

this time was different, though. not only were you missing rafe, but you were craving him. the entire time you were at the shitty packed nightclub with your girls, only thing you could think about was him. it got so bad you ended up scrolling through your gallery for pictures of you and him.

finally, when you’d had enough, you decided to just tell your friends a little white lie about how you were feeling nauseous, and got an uber back to the boys’ dormitories.

soon enough, you were behind rafe’s door, your boyfriend’s eyes widening when he saw you standing there, “what are you-”

you interrupted his sentence by pressing your lips on his in a heated kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck. rafe moaned into the kiss, slamming the door shut so loudly it must’ve awoken a few other people residing in the dormitories, his touch making you feel drunker than the remnants of alcohol still in your veins.

your hands were on his hips, tugging him closer to you while also pushing him backwards towards his bed. you pulled away from the kiss, pushing rafe down onto the bed, his pupils blown wide as he looked up at you in surprise. you straddled rafe’s lap, tugging on his hair as your chest pressed against him.

“missed you…” you mumbled, your lips pressed against his, your ragged breaths mingling together. “missed you too…” he whispered and you connected your lips with his, your lips greedily moving against his. rafe’s hands started trailing up your back, searching for the zipper of your dress.

finally, though, when he found it, the boy couldn’t seem to be able to unzip it no matter how many times he tugged on it, and you couldn’t help the grin that took over your lips, pulling away from him in a breathless daze, feeling him starting to harden underneath you.

“i have to do everything myself, do i?” you chuckle, rising back to your feet, rafe letting out a disappointed whine, his lips in a pout. you turned your back to your boyfriend, and he watched as your skilled hands slowly unzipped the dress, revealing your bare back to him, his eyes widening.

you let the black dress pool at your feet before stepping out of it, taking slow, measured steps towards rafe, his eyes shamelessly trailing over your bare chest.

you straddled your boyfriend once again, a seductive smile on your face as one of his hands cupped your breast, his thumb pressing over your nipple, the bud starting to harden under his cold hands in a way that made you arch into him.

“much better.” you grin, tilting his head back by his chin, before bringing your lips to his and sliding your hands under his shirt.

TAGLIST: @raahosh @purpleplumpudding @rafesheaven @esotericcangel @mattyskies @bakugouswaif @littlelamy

[emeraldthelynx]

Ready for a long post about this stuff?

-Sonic 06

The potential is there, it's just buried beneath the game attempting to soft-reboot the Sonic franchise. There's nothing fundamentally wrong with Shadow's and Silver's stories, but Sonic's is a mess! I've hummed and hawed about ways to fix it, but I've never gotten anything concrete. The things I have figured out are that Elise needs to be kidnapped a total of once. She's okay going to Eggman to keep him from blowing up her kingdom, at the end, but only one kidnapping asides from that. I'm okay with Elise being human, give her a Sonic Unleashed human treatment and she'd fit right in. I do thing the affection between Sonic and Elise should be one-sided, with only Elise having feelings. I also misunderstood the thing about Elise's tears before I played the game and thought that only if they were tears of despair that they would release Iblis. So that solves the tears problem. I guess what it boils down to is making Elise more interesting and seeing what Sonic does because it's never really Sonic's story. It's what Sonic inspires other people to do.

-Sonic Forces

Approaching this with a little more approach to gameplay. Longer and more levels would do wonders, and also making three campaigns, one for Sonic, which is the first one you unlock, but he becomes a locked character after getting captured by Eggman, leaving you with the Rookie. There needs to be more Rookie levels before you encounter Sonic again, and you only get to control Classic Sonic after encountering him with either Sonic or the rookie, like how in Sonic Adventure you can unlock characters once you've interacted with them with a different one. I can't really think of anything wrong with the story, I made a post about Infinite a while back that explains why I think he's an interesting villain. I just think Forces needed 'more' and 'longer.'

-Digimon Frontier

This is such a small thing, but the animation. I want to watch it, but the animation makes it really, really hard to enjoy it.

-The Yu-gi-oh! DM filler arcs

I'm talking specifically about the Noa arc and the DOMA arc. Asides from the animation, what do you expect from Yugioh, the Noa arc needed to be put anywhere except the middle of Battle City, and maybe made a bit shorter. I also wished there was a little more playing around with the concept of them being in a Virtual World. There was so much wasted potential here. We even got a glimpse of what could have been with the Legendary Heroes arc, which set this whole thing up. More consequences, more interesting virtual world stuff, faster pacing, less Kaiba bros angst, I have thoughts. I also think that the cast of characters could have been cut down just a little. There's something there, and I haven't played around with it enough to really get what yet.

As for the DOMA arc, again, it needs to be shorter. I also think there should have been a more obvious effect of the Orichalcos card and stone, like, sensing evil, seeing the evil, a real visual effect. Something like the Dark Chips in the Megaman Battle Network series. I think Yami Yugi really should have had to wrestle with a dark influence, even before Yugi got taken. Yugi should have to deal with it too, but the darkness grips onto Yami more than him. The ending, the flashbacks, even the VS Yugi duel, it feels a bit lacklustre. We should have had cards with the characters trapped in them, like how Weevil said that one infamous card was Yugi. It would be a chase for the cards, and the cards could be used against them. The ending, what was with Yami Yugi just casually sealing the Leviathan into his body what was up with that- Ahem. Leviathan's beat, Dartz's beat. With Dartz' beat, the Leviathan does not have the power it did. There should be a speech, again, like something from the Megaman Battle Network series about darkness and how it rests in peoples' hearts and cannot be erased. Much better than whatever was going on originally.

-Sonic Prime

The wasted potential! Know what we could of had? We could of had game Sonic, the real one, travelling to Sonic X, Archie Sonic, Sonic Boom ect. Even if there were copyright issues with that, they could have done so much better than just to make 'edgy world,' 'jungle world,' and 'pirate world.' Sonic's self-loathing and air-headedness throughout the series makes it hard to watch for me. Sonic, just isn't like that. If he made a mistake, he would try to fix it. He moves on from the past and into the future. He doesn't care out of neglect, he doesn't care because he's at peace with how he can't change what's been. As for Shadow having beef with him, easy. Sonic broke the world Shadow promised Maria to save. Also, yeah. Mention. Maria. The series also moved too quickly. It felt like watching a four-hour long movie, and that didn't make it fun to watch. More self-contained episodes and even a 'filler' episode or two to have character development would have made it nicer.

-CrossFusion in the Rockman.EXE anime

CrossFusion just seemed to push the Internet aspect of the series into the background, along with the NetNavis. I think a balance could have been found, but the Internet having an effect on the real world is such an important part of the concept of the series. CrossFusion and Dimensional Areas taking that into the real world defeated the purpose of that. CrossFusion is really cool, and it can be done correctly. The Beast+ series of the anime was really good at balancing the CrossFusion and the Internet stuff. There's a couple of other things that can make it better and make the Navis more prominent. Bickering. Having Rockman and Netto (Lan) talk during the battles, make comments about how the other's feeling, and even take over for each other when they need to. Synchronization too! I just wish it was more 'Netto and Rockman are sharing a body' and less 'Netto is wearing Rockman's armour.'

-The Rockman.EXE anime in general not talking about Hub

Hub (Saito) is so important to the bond between Lan and Megaman. There's a reason they can do things that other Navi/Operator duos can't, they're literately brothers! It's hinted at very strongly in the manga, but the anime doesn't even make a hint! And there were so. Many. Opportunities! A little extra Hikari twins would have done the series good.

-World of Light in Smash Bros Ultimate

When World of Light was announced, me and my siblings were ecstatic. We were hoping it would be like Subspace Emissary in Brawl. So, much to our disappointment, there was no real plot. Just give the story/adventure mode a plot in the next Smash Bros game, that's all I ask.

-The Digimon sequel films (Tri, 02: The Beginning)

These films felt, angsty. I haven't watched Kizuna, so I can't judge that right now, but I have watched most of Tri and 02 The Beginning. I have separate complaints about them both. Tri. felt like they were squeezing in more angst and worry than there should be. The Digimon should have been in the human world to start with, like the 02 epilogue. Dark Gennai was weird, I didn't understand the plot really, I didn't feel like there was a real antagonist because there were just so many things going on at once, and also? The girls were not really treated right. Ordinimon was straight-up naked. And Mei just felt like a self-insert.

That's also my complaint with 02: The Beginning. It's like the whole plot revolved around this one OC with new information that changed canon and had a fan Digimon that had power that would bring the 02 kids into everything. I can literately summarize it as 'The 02 kids meet a new Digidestined, Lui Ohwada. Turns out he was the first-ever Digidestined! Watch as the gang teams up with Lui to save the day!' Yeah, if this was a fanfiction, I get the feeling some people would get turned off from this description. There's also far too many flashbacks. To address the self-insert thing, I have seen it done well! Amazingly well! The only thing is that the self-insert/OC needs to adapt to the world, not the world adapt to them.

-IDW Sonic

I, don't like it. Without the Freedom Fighters, I don't think the writers know how to make the story. Amy, and multiple other female characters, feel like they've been shoehorned into Sally's role, and that goes for a lot of other characters. New characters are being made to fill the old characters' shoes, and I just really, really want some new, hero, male characters. There's too many girl characters. And Surge just feels like Ian Flynn really wanted a Bass-coded rival for Sonic so that makes Kit her Treble. I don't know how much is 'Sonic' and how much is 'new people in Sonic's world.' It just feels like everybody's trying to fill space that existed in the Archie comics, but didn't need to exist in the IDW ones.

-WandaVision

This one is kinda out of left field, but I did enjoy the show. (Probably because it was mostly episodic and not 'four hour long movie.') I think the ending should have been better. And also, the premise of 'Wanda is grieving and this is her therapy' and where did that one which lady come from? The concept was there, and I loved the early episodes a lot, but the later ones just feel into the modern Marvel trap.

-Pokemon Horizons

'I want to learn about Pokemon' and a lot of really cool family backstory and connections is not enough for me to like Liko. There's nothing to really make her interesting. And Roy is just 'I want to catch the shiny Rayquaza!' I also don't know how I feel about all the Pokemon staying out of their Pokeballs all the time. By doing that, the individual Pokemon's personalities become smothered in what I like to call 'character overload.' The show suffers from this a lot actually. There's just too much and too many. The latest season is shaping up to be a bit more interesting, a bit more like the older Pokemon, but there's something about Pokemon Horizons that just feels a bit empty. It's like they're wringing out the very last drops of what once was. The Pokemon company has had success in other shows like Twilight Wings and PokeToons. I just kinda want side stories and slice of life from the series now that Ash has retired. Again, the show just feels hollow.

-Sonic Frontiers

I've talked about this before! Here and here, Frontiers has the opposite problem as Forces. There's too little going into too much. Despite having the most open world of a Sonic game, Frontiers feels the most empty. Everything is kinda 'samey' and everything feels dead. From what I've heard about the original plot, (Sonic's friends loosing their memories and Sonic looses his own when he restores them) that makes it seem much more interesting. I also wish that the DLC didn't feel shoehorned into the end of the game. Let me put it this way; Forces made me get back into the Sonic series with such a passion that I wrote a whole AU that I'm saving and hoping someday to get it picked up by SEGA. (I know that's a big dream, but still.) And Frontiers... I didn't even care when my brother said he was selling his copy, the one I had played on.

To summarize a lot of this post, Sonic always seems to have a lot of lost potential, especially when the potential is right there.

[bucketsorbueckers]

No Hard Feelings - Chapter 2

Paige x Azzi

Warnings: language, alcohol, dumb sapphics not communicating

Dual POV - 7K words

A/N: holyyy ??? thank u sm for reading the first chapter!! legit thought i was gonna post into the void so if you saw this, i’m kissing your forehead through the screen <3 next one’s longer. messier. high in yearning. sorry in advance (but also. not at all.) would love to know what you think!! little comments keep me going fr so just know i appreciate youuu 🫶

Paige POV

Paige sat on the edge of the couch, one sneaker still half-on, fingers tangled in the laces like she’d forgotten what they were for. Her head spun—half from the alcohol, half from everything else.

The room was quiet, save for the dull hum of the fridge and the yellow light over the stove casting long shadows across the floor. Her phone buzzed somewhere across the room. She didn’t check it.

She was still in the same pants Azzi had seen her in. That mattered for no good reason.

She pressed her palms to her eyes until stars bloomed behind her lids. She didn’t cry. Paige never cried. But the ache had settled deep—familiar now—and she wondered if she even remembered how. If it might help. If it might do anything at all.

She groaned and fell back into the couch, the room spinning slightly with the motion. So she closed her eyes. And that was the mistake. Because her mind didn’t go to the party, or the noise, or the laughter she hadn’t really listened to. It went where it always did: straight to Azzi.

Not the Azzi from tonight. But the Azzi who used to sit cross-legged on her bed, eating cereal out of a mug, one sock on, one sock off, looking at Paige like she wasn’t something to admire but something to keep.

If she were here, she’d be telling Paige to get water. To wash her face. To change out of her jeans. She’d braid Paige’s hair so it wouldn’t be a disaster in the morning. Probably force her to eat something.

But Azzi wasn’t here. So Paige did none of that. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach for her phone. Doesn’t untie the sneaker still half-dangling from her foot.

Her mouth is dry. Her head hurts. And still, nothing feels as hollow as the space Azzi used to fill without trying.

She can still see her, clear as day: curled up at the end of the bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, twisting the drawstrings into little knots while Paige rambled about something that didn’t matter. A game. A play. A headline she hated. And Azzi would listen, always.

There was one night. Paige doesn’t remember what led to it—what they’d talked about, if anything at all. Just the way Azzi sat behind her on the floor, legs wrapped loosely around her waist, fingers moving slowly through her hair.  No music. No talking. Just touch. And the safety of being known.

And for once, Paige didn’t feel like she had to fill the silence. Azzi never asked her to be anything but there. She hadn’t realized what a luxury that was. Back then, it felt inevitable. Automatic. 

Now, silence feels different. Sharper. Meaner. Azzi would’ve known what to do with it. Would’ve filled it without trying. Would’ve made the air feel less heavy just by being in the room. But Azzi’s not here. So Paige just sinks deeper into the couch, lets the ache stretch wider across her chest, and tries not to wonder what Azzi’s doing.

If she’s curled up in that baseball player’s bed. Wearing his hoodie. Making him mac and cheese like it means nothing. Like she hasn’t done all of that before, for someone else.

And then—like punishment—a memory surfaces. 

Her bedroom. After a loss Paige had claimed like it was hers to carry—because that’s what leaders did, right? They absorbed the blame. They held it so no one else had to.

She’d sat with her knees pulled to her chest, back against the headboard, arms wrapped so tight around her legs it hurt. The room was dark. She hadn’t turned the lights on when she came in, hadn’t taken off her sneakers. Sweat clung to her skin, dried cold and uncomfortable, but she couldn’t make herself move.

The door creaked open. Azzi didn’t say anything.

She stepped in barefoot, silent, already in one of Paige’s sweatshirts—too big, the hem brushing her thighs, sleeves half-swallowed. She didn’t hesitate. Just crossed the room like she knew the floor plan of Paige’s grief.

She climbed onto the bed, moved slowly and knelt beside Paige. For a second, she didn’t touch her. Just looked. And then, gently, she reached out and cupped Paige’s arm.

“Come here,” she murmured.

Paige didn’t resist.

Azzi guided her down like she was something fragile, easing her back against the mattress until Paige was lying flat, stiff at first, eyes wide and blinking toward the ceiling.

Then Azzi lay down beside her. She pressed their bodies together, slid an arm beneath Paige’s head like a pillow, the other curling around her waist. Their legs tangled like instinct.

And she said nothing. 

Not you played fine.  Not you did everything you could. Not I’m proud of you.

She just stayed.

And Paige—who didn’t cry, who never let herself fall apart, who carried the weight of every game like it was stitched into her jersey— let herself lean in. Just a little. Just enough.

She remembered thinking: Azzi loved her even at her worst and never once asked her to be anything else.

She’d been so dumb. So fucking ungrateful for it—whatever “it” had been. She groaned as her phone buzzed again.

Dragging herself upright, she blinked at the screen. Sixty-something texts from Nika, letting her know she’d be staying elsewhere tonight. Paige gave the last one a thumbs up. No words. She didn’t have any left.

She retreated to her room like it might offer some kind of silence that would actually stick. She tried to sleep. Really tried. Stared at the ceiling. Flipped her pillow. Closed her eyes. Counted her breaths. None of it worked.

Eventually, with a sigh sharp enough to count as surrender, she reached for her phone again.

The group chat had finally calmed down. Just a few heart emojis and someone’s blurry selfie from the kitchen. Most of her teammates were probably asleep. She could’ve left it there. Should have. But her thumb kept scrolling. Down past Liv. Past Jana. Past everyone. Until she found Azzi’s name.

Her stomach twisted at the “last sent” date. Had it really been a month? She tapped into the thread. And winced. The screen was all Azzi. A wall of quiet, one-sided effort. 

Azzi: hey. just checking in.

Azzi: you left your sweatshirt in the locker room btw

Azzi: i know you’re busy. just wanted to say good luck on your exam today.

Azzi: saw you in the gym this morning. you looked tired.

Azzi: i miss you

Azzi: forget it. Sorry.

Azzi: i know we’re not really talking right now. but you’re still my best friend. that hasn’t changed.

Azzi: i’ll stop bothering you.

She stared at the final message a beat too long, then tore her eyes away.

It wasn’t like she had intentionally ignored them. She hadn’t meant to shut Azzi out. She just didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to bridge the space between who they used to be and whatever they were now.

Because the thing was, it wasn’t not knowing how she felt. That had never been the issue.

Loving Azzi had never been the problem. That part had always been easy. Natural. A constant in a world that changed too fast and asked too much. And if it had just been them—no cameras, no noise, no one else pulling—maybe things would’ve stayed simple.

Paige would’ve stayed. She knows that much. She would’ve chosen Azzi. She wouldn’t have given up. But somewhere along the way, it all got tangled. Messy. It wasn’t on purpose.

She just kept running out of space. Out of time. Too many people. Too many eyes. Always something to prove, someone to answer to. 

Azzi usually understood. She always had. She knew there was a version of Paige that didn’t belong to herself. The one in postgame interviews, in highlight reels, on social media.  She never seemed to resent it. Never made her feel guilty for the things she couldn’t control. Which is why Paige didn’t understand when it shifted. Didn’t know what changed.

The first crack happened quietly. Azzi had said something once, soft, but sharp in that way she always was when she didn’t want to start a fight but couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Sometimes, I just wish I was your first choice.”

It made her feel like a villain in a story she didn’t know she was in. Like she’d missed a moment where something shifted, and now she was paying for it without ever understanding the rules.

And from there, the fissures in their existence began to splinter. Quiet, invisible hairline fractures but there, cracking outward from the very fault line of who they were. Moments that used to feel easy began to catch. Silences stretched longer than they used to. Texts went unanswered a little too long. Jokes didn’t always land the way they once did.

Nothing big. Nothing loud. Just a slow, soft shift. And then, all at once, the space between them stopped feeling like a pause and started feeling like distance. Like something had shifted beneath them, and neither of them had the words to name it.

And Paige hadn’t asked. Hadn’t said, are we okay? Because she thought they were.

Because Azzi still braided her hair on road trips. Still sat beside her during film. Still laughed at her dumb jokes, even when they barely made sense. But there was something in her eyes that had started to fade. Some warmth that flickered a little too low.

And now Paige couldn’t stop thinking about it, how Azzi had kept showing up, softer and softer, until eventually, she disappeared entirely. 

Her phone buzzed again on the pillow beside her. Not Azzi. It never was anymore. She blinked away the sharp-edged memories and looked back at her phone. Her thumbs hovered over the screen, the thread still open—Azzi’s name at the top.

She typed:

i miss you too.

Stared at it. Deleted it. Typed again:

are you still up?

Backspaced. Studied the rhythm of the blinking cursor. She sat there a moment longer, the silence pressing in from every side, the ache spreading like a bruise she didn’t want to touch.

Then she tried again. Slower this time.

i don’t know how to do this. 

She stared at the words like they might rearrange themselves into something braver. Then she deleted them too and turned off her phone. Because reaching out meant admitting something had broken. And Paige wasn’t ready to know if it couldn’t be fixed.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡⌦ .｡.:*♡❁۪۪ ཻུ♡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

The sun filtered through her half-closed blinds too early, nearly cracking her skull in two. Paige groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes like that might block out the damage. Her head pounded. Her mouth tasted like shitty vodka.

She didn’t remember falling asleep. Didn’t remember turning off her phone. But it was there on the nightstand, face-down like she’d been trying to forget something. She stared at it for a long time before reaching.

Just one swipe. Just a glance. Azzi hadn’t texted. Paige let the phone fall back against the sheets and rolled onto her side, eyes squeezed shut.

Last night clawed at the edges of her memory. Blurry, uneven, softened by too much cheap liquor and not enough food. There’d been laughter, music, the low hum of voices bleeding together. But even through the haze, she remembered those moments.

Azzi looking at her. And then not. Azzi’s skin brushing up against hers in the photo—too warm, too familiar. Azzi glancing sideways, just for a second, before pretending she hadn’t. Azzi. Everywhere. All at once. And also not at all.

In the room. In her mind. In the silence of a phone that hadn’t lit up all night. Haunting her in the softest, sharpest ways.

Paige sat up, her joints stiff, mouth still dry, heart beating just a little too loud for how early it was. She didn’t bother with a text. Or a real breakfast. Just pulled on yesterday’s hoodie, tied her sneakers, and grabbed her keys like muscle memory had taken over.

The world outside was too bright, too loud. The sky an offensive kind of blue. But the gym– the gym was still dark when she walked in. Still cold. Still quiet.

Just the echo of her footsteps and the soft hum of overhead lights flickering on.

She liked it better this way. Before the noise. Before the crowds. 

She set a ball down at half court, took a breath, and started to shoot. One after another. Each shot a little too hard. A little too fast. Each one missing just slightly left.

She kept going. Kept moving. Sweat beading at her hairline like she could outrun the night before. Sweat it out, burn it off, leave it behind. As if sheer effort could scrub her thoughts clean of brown eyes and perfect curls. And that damn look in the photo.

“You’re a freak.” Paige stopped the ball with her foot, chest still rising and falling, and turned to find Nika leaning against the wall like she hadn’t just caught her in the middle of a silent spiral.“I fed you enough alcohol to give you a three-day hangover.”

Paige grinned. “Some of us are just built different, I guess.”

Nika rolled her eyes and strolled to the middle of the court. She sat down, legs stretched out in front of her, and watched as Paige kept shooting—thud after thud echoing through the empty gym.

Then came the throat-clearing.

Once. Twice. Three times. Paige exhaled hard, let the ball roll to a stop, and dropped down beside her.

“How nice of you to join me,” Nika said sweetly, not looking at her.

Paige shook her head, eyes drifting toward the championship banners swaying faintly in the rafters. Nika didn’t hesitate.

“You text her?”

“What?” Paige muttered.  “Who?”

Nika scoffed, waving her off. “I’m way too hungover to play this game with you.” She turned to face her now, voice flat. “Last night—when I walked your wobbly ass home—you said, and I quote, ‘I’m gonna text Azzi and fix all of this.’”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She picked at the edge of her sock, eyes still fixed on the rafters like they held better questions.

“I thought about it,” she said finally, quiet.

“Would call that progress for progress’s sake,” Nika muttered, “but I’m not a liar.” She exhaled, slow. “It’s been a month, P.”

Paige shrugged. “I thought we were doing an okay job with it. The team doesn’t seem to notice.”

Nika groaned, but this time it was softer. Less theatrical.

“Paige,” she said, quieter now. “Not everything is about the team.” She paused, studying her. “You’re not doing well. You think we don’t notice, but we do.” Paige didn’t move.“You’re quieter. You’re in the gym at all hours. You barely talk unless it’s about basketball.”

“I’m just… focused,” Paige muttered. “With the season coming up.”

Nika frowned, gentle but sure.

“I know I’m not Azzi,” she said, “but you don’t have to lie to me.”

Paige’s jaw clenched. She didn’t look at her. The silence stretched, filled only by the hum of the gym lights overhead. Then, so quiet it almost wasn’t there:

“I don’t know what to say, Nika.” She exhaled shakily, like the truth hurt to hold. “I’m scared that if I say it out loud—if I admit she walked away—then that means she’s really gone.” Her throat tightened. “And I don’t know how to live with that. I don’t think I can.”

Beside her, Nika swallowed, then shifted closer—close enough for their knees to touch, for the silence to feel less overwhelming. She wrapped her arms around Paige and tugged her in, firm but gentle. Like she wasn’t going to let her fall apart alone.

“It’s Azzi, P,” she murmured.“You and her—you're not just some on-again, off-again thing. You’re Paige and Azzi. That’s been a fact as long as I can remember. Even now, when everything’s messy and sideways, that doesn’t just disappear. You’re not cut off. Just out of sync. That’s not the same as losing her.”

Paige, in a rare moment of surrender, let herself lean in and buried her face in Nika’s shoulder like she could hide from the truth inside it.

“Then why,” she whispered, voice splintering, “does it fucking feel like I have?”

Nika didn’t answer right away. She just held her tighter, arms secure around her like she wasn’t going to let her fall any further. 

“Because you love her.” She felt Paige stiffen just slightly, like the words landed somewhere too deep. “That’s why it hurts like this,” Nika added, voice gentler now. “Because it’s real. And because it’s her.”

Paige didn’t have the energy to argue. Because Nika was right.

She loved Azzi. Not in the loud, all-consuming way people always talked about. Not fireworks or grand gestures.  It was quieter than that. Slower.

The kind of love that snuck in when she wasn’t looking and made itself at home. The kind that curled up in the passenger seat on long road trips and pressed in close after late-night losses. The kind that didn’t demand attention, didn’t ask to be named because it was already stitched into everything.

She loved her in the way her body remembered, in the pause before a joke, in the instinct to reach for her hand without thinking. In the way she looked for her in every room before realizing she wasn't there.

Azzi was the quiet in the chaos. The place her soul went to rest. The thing that ever felt like hers, even when nothing else did. 

And maybe that was the problem. Because when you love someone like that—so completely, so unconditionally—you start to believe they’re part of you.

You forget they’re allowed to leave. You forget they don’t have to stay. Even if you would’ve. 

Azzi POV

Azzi woke up slow.

The sun filtered through the blinds, soft and gold, warming the edge of her pillow. The weight of the blanket pressed gently over her shoulders, and the mattress dipped slightly behind her. Someone was beside her. Still half-asleep, Azzi smiled.

She didn’t open her eyes. Just breathed in and let herself sink closer—muscle memory guiding her, like it always had. The shape was right. The warmth. The way their knee bumped gently against hers. For half a second, she thought, Paige.

She hummed, content, pressing herself into the comfort like it might last.

“No time for snuggles,” someone muttered. “I’m hungry.”

Azzi’s eyes flew open to find Caroline. Her best friend is lying on her side, scrolling through her phone like she didn’t just shatter a perfectly good morning.

Azzi groans. “Why are you in my bed?”

“You fell asleep on mine. You stole my blanket. I followed my blanket.”

Azzi buries her face in the pillow. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here I am. A gift.”

Caroline sits up and stretches, already tossing the blankets back with no regard for Azzi’s fragile morning peace.

“You promised me breakfast,” she says. “Don’t think I won’t hold you to it.”

Caroline jumps off the bed, heading towards the door. 

“Five minutes or I’m leaving without you,” she called over her shoulder, already halfway to the kitchen. “And I swear I’ll eat your leftovers out of spite.”

The door clicked shut. And just like that, the space beside Azzi was empty again. She didn’t move. Just stared at the mattress, the faint dent where someone had been.

It wasn’t the same shape. Wasn’t the same warmth. But for a second, she’d believed it.

For a second, her body had reached for something it used to know by heart. She curled her fingers into the sheets, pressed her face into the pillow like it might still smell like her. Like Paige.

It didn’t.

She kicked the covers off and swung her legs over the side of the bed like she could shake it all loose. Moved too fast for a Sunday morning, pulling on jeans, shoving her arms through an old hoodie, twisting her curls into a bun without so much as a glance in the mirror.

She didn’t check her phone. Didn’t need to. She already knew Paige hadn’t texted.

By the time she stepped outside, Caroline was already on the sidewalk, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, looking annoyingly well-rested for someone who’d hijacked Azzi’s bed.

She held out the cup with a little smile. “You always forget your caffeine when you’re in a mood. You know the student centers is terrible.”

Azzi took it without arguing. They started down the block in silence, the morning quiet except for the soft scuff of their sneakers on the pavement. After a while, Caroline glanced over.

“You okay?”

Azzi shrugged, eyes on the sidewalk. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Caroline didn’t call her out. Didn’t push. She just nodded like she believed her. Or at least understood why she didn’t want to talk about it.

Then, gently: 

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”

Azzi didn’t reply. But her fingers curled tighter around the coffee cup. And Caroline didn’t say anything else.

The student café was warm and buzzing, sunlight pooling across the tiled floors and clattering dishes. The line moved slow, but Azzi didn’t mind. She liked places like this—too loud to think, too small to fall apart in.

Caroline pointed to a table in the back while Azzi ordered for both of them, and by the time she slid into the booth, Caroline already had her phone out and a croissant torn in half between them. Cam arrived a few minutes later, all easy charm and windblown hair. 

“You two look like you’re recovering from something,” Cam said, sliding into the seat across from Azzi.

Caroline didn’t look up from her phone. Just gestured lazily in Azzi’s direction. “She is.”

Cam raised a brow but didn’t push. Just slid a pastry toward her like it might solve something. Azzi offered a grateful smile.

Caroline didn’t dislike Cam. She just didn’t buy the whole “he’s good for me” campaign Azzi had been running lately.

I can tell you’re not happy, she’d said one night. Azzi had shut it down before it could bloom into something messier. Because she needed Cam. Needed the steadiness, the ease, the way he never asked for more than she offered.

He was warm. Present. Simple. A safe place to land after limping her way across the scorched battlefield that was being touched—then abandoned—by Paige Bueckers.

It had been almost two weeks. And Cam really was a good guy. She figured if she told herself that enough, one day, it might matter. 

They made small talk. Caroline filled the silence. Cam laughed at something she said. Azzi tried to stay tethered to the moment, to the clink of forks and the smell of coffee and the way Cam looked at her like she was still whole.

Jana appeared halfway through the conversation, sliding into the booth beside Caroline with a groan and a dramatic yawn.

“I know,” She says. “The coffee is shit but I’m desperate.”

They all laughed. Even Azzi.  She was halfway through a sentence when the bell over the café door chimed again. Caroline stilled across from her. Eyes tracking the door.

“Shit,” she murmured, just loud enough for Azzi to hear.

Azzi didn’t have to look. Not at first. She didn’t need to. Some people enter a room quietly. Some crash. Paige didn’t do either. She just shifted the gravity.

Azzi’s spine straightened. Her breath caught. Something deep in her chest tightened—like muscle memory reawakening after too long asleep.  And when she finally let herself look toward the door, she nearly flinched. There was Paige. Framed in the doorway like the morning light didn’t quite know how to hold her.

Hair still damp, hoodie too big, sleeves shoved past her wrists like she’d gotten dressed without thinking. Like maybe she hadn’t slept. She looked like something Azzi had dreamed about too many times to admit.

Across from her, Cam glanced toward the door.

“Is that Paige?” he asked, voice quiet, almost casual.

Caroline didn’t look up. “Yup.”

Cam nodded, eyes following her for a beat too long. “Weird,” he murmured. “Being that recognizable. Having people clock you everywhere.” He shook his head a little. “I don’t think I’d know how to be normal.”

Azzi didn’t answer right away.

“She doesn’t really get to be,” she said finally. 

Cam didn’t respond, still watching. Just for a second. And that’s when Azzi saw it. Not awe, exactly but something adjacent. That flicker of recognition. That quiet pull. The same look she’d seen a hundred times in other people. On sidewalks. At games. In locker rooms and airports and campus dining halls. The look that said: That’s her.

Azzi had memorized it since they were sixteen. It was always the same…like the air shifted when Paige walked through it. Like something about her demanded to be noticed, even when she wasn’t trying. Especially then. She just had that effect on people. Impossible to ignore. Impossible not to want. 

And Azzi had spent years pretending she was the only person in the world immune to it. But she wasn’t. Not really.

Because she understood the awe. She understood the pull. The quiet hunger to know Paige. To unravel her. To be the exception in a world full of admirers. Azzi had felt it too. Still felt it, low and constant in her stomach. Sharp. Stupid. Unrelenting.

Loving Paige hadn’t protected her from wanting her. It had only taught her how impossible it was to ever truly have her.

And now she was here—walking past them, coffee in hand, eyes fixed on her phone like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Azzi caught her in the blur of her peripheral vision—still didn’t look, not really—until Jana’s voice cut through the quiet:

“Paigey! Don’t be rude. Say hi.”

Azzi stiffened. Caroline froze mid-sip. Paige paused. She didn’t look up right away. Just tapped once more on her screen, like she was taking care of something important. Then, finally, she lifted her gaze.

“Hey,” she said, quiet but pointed. Her gaze swept across the table, barely grazing Azzi, landing instead on the boy beside her.

Cam straightened, offering a hand. “I’m Cam.”

Paige looked at it for a moment too long before shaking it once.

“So I’ve heard,” She said. “Paige. Nice to meet you.”

But it wasn’t. Not really. Not for anyone at the table.

Paige didn’t sit. She didn’t even shift her weight like she might. Just stood there, coffee in hand, gaze flicking back to her phone like she was already halfway out the door.

Cam cleared his throat, trying to recover. “You hit the gym this morning?”

Paige nodded once. “Early workout.”

“Respect,” he said, with a small laugh. “I can barely get myself out of bed before ten.”

She didn’t laugh. Didn’t even pretend to. Azzi hadn’t moved. She was still staring at the spot just past Paige’s shoulder, like if she looked directly at her, she might combust.

“Are you going to sit down?” Jana asked, proving once again her innate ability to never sense the tension.

Paige’s lips twitched, not a smile, but something close to it. Tired.

“I actually can’t stay,” she said, eyes shifting to her phone. “Meetings.”

“Oh yes, our very own superstar,” Jana teased. “What endorsement are we chatting about today? Gatorade? Nike? Can you get me new shoes?”

That actually made Paige laugh. Short and real and gone too fast.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Paige lingered just a second longer, thumb tapping the edge of her coffee cup. Then, like it was nothing, she held out a small brown bag to Azzi.

“They had the cherry thing today,” she said, not quite meeting her eyes. “You always miss it.”

Azzi froze.

Jana blinked. “The cherry tart? I literally just asked and they told me they were out.”

Paige shrugged, “Guess they just think I’m special.”

She set the bag on the table in front of Azzi, casual as anything. Then turned, already stepping back.

“I’ll see you guys at practice.”

The door chimed behind her. And Azzi still hadn’t moved.

Jana sighed dramatically, breaking the silence. “Must be nice being Paige Bueckers. A god among mortals.” 

Cam chuckled, reaching for levity like it could stitch the moment back together. He slid an arm around Azzi’s shoulders.

“You alright?” he asked softly.

Azzi’s throat bobbed. Her eyes drifted from the untouched pastry bag to Caroline, who was already watching her. Not curious. Not surprised. Just steady. Soft in that way Caroline always was when she already knew the answer. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Her gaze said it all: You thought she wasn’t looking. But she was.

Azzi swallowed again, the ache rising higher now. Cam’s arm was still draped over her shoulders, his thumb brushing back and forth—like comfort could be that simple. But it wasn’t.

It was too much. Too close. Too easy. And somehow still not even close to what she needed.

Her skin buzzed with it. This gentle, well-meaning touch that felt like the wrong language spoken fluently. Carefully, she shifted out from under it.

“I need to make a call,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Then she stood, the pastry still untouched on the table, and stepped out into the morning light.

When the fresh air hit her lungs, Azzi sucked in a sharp breath, like she could force the panic back into place. But it didn’t work. Because across the street, Paige was still there. Still lingering.

Hands in her pockets, eyes half-lowered, like she was waiting for someone. Their eyes met. Paige tilted her head. Observant. Measured. Like she was trying to read something in Azzi’s face she no longer had permission to name.

And something hot surged up in Azzi’s chest. Not heartbreak. Not quite. Anger. Sharp and clean and useful. It almost felt good because it had an edge. Because it gave her something to hold. The urge to move buzzed in her limbs. To cross the street. To do something. To shove her hands against Paige’s chest and say you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to show up and act like you still see me. Still know me. Still care.

She imagined saying, I’m not yours to be generous with anymore.

But she didn’t move. Not an inch. She just stood there. And across the street, Paige didn’t either. For a few suspended seconds, they just existed. Two people who used to share a world. Now standing on opposite sides of it.

And despite everything, Azzi let herself think about it. Let herself remember who Paige had been once. Not to the world, not to the cameras or the crowds or the girls who lined up to take pictures after games but her Paige. 

The one who always found her first in a room, no matter how loud it was. Who could spot her from across a court full of chaos and send a look that said, You okay? without ever saying a word.

The one who unraveled quietly in her dorm room. Kicking off her shoes, hoodie tugged over her head, lying backwards across Azzi’s bed with her legs dangling off the side, eyes closed like the silence was the only thing keeping her together.The one who said I’m tired only to Azzi because she didn’t trust the world to know she wasn’t always strong.

The one who touched her like the world wasn’t watching because when it was just them, it never felt like it was. Fingers brushing her wrist under the dinner table. Knees knocking together during film. A hand lingering at the small of her back as they wove through post-game crowds.

Paige had never been soft for many people. She couldn’t be. But with Azzi—god, with Azzi, the edges always fell away. Her voice would go quieter. Her gaze would linger longer. She’d lean her head on Azzi’s shoulder like it was second nature, like she forgot she wasn’t supposed to need anyone.

She’d reserved that softness like it was something sacred. A secret Azzi never had to ask for, because it was just… offered. Freely. Quietly.

And Azzi—foolishly, selfishly, with both hands and her whole heart—had believed it would always be hers.

Because when Paige looked at her like that, all edges gone, all pretense stripped away, it felt like forever. But maybe it never was. Maybe Paige had just been handing her borrowed things. Little pieces of gentleness, of trust, of a love too soft for the world to see and Azzi mistook them for promises. 

Maybe she’d been holding something that was only ever meant to pass through her fingers. And now, standing in the echo of that quiet, Azzi couldn’t stop wondering:

What if the most devastating part of loving Paige Bueckers was never losing her but realizing she was never really hers to begin with?

Paige’s POV

Practice was hell. Sweat-drenched, leg-aching, breath-in-her-throat hell.

Season was approaching and Geno was one bad pass away from a full-scale meltdown. Paige wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and narrowed her focus.

Ball. Feet. Breath. Because basketball—basketball still made sense.

It was the one place she could still breathe without thinking. The one place where everything stayed exactly where it was supposed to be. Even now. Even after.

Across the court, Azzi moved like a second heartbeat. They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. Azzi cut left, and Paige was already pivoting. A no-look pass, seamless and clean. A catch in stride. A shot. Net. They didn’t miss a beat. Not one.

Their bodies remembered: the rhythm, the weight, the pull of each other’s gravity. It was muscle memory. It was chemistry. It was grief, dressed up in a perfect assist.

Paige wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She was a professional, first and always.The game came first. The team came first. So mostly, she was grateful. Grateful that whatever had splintered between them hadn’t followed them here…that on the court, they still fit. Still moved like they were breathing the same air.

But there was still that ache. A pinprick under her ribs that she couldn’t shake. 

The damning knowledge that she could still find Azzi in motion. Still trust her without hesitation, without a word. But once the buzzer went off, once the world came rushing back in, she didn’t know how to reach her anymore. Didn’t know where to stand. Didn’t know if she was still welcome.

Geno’s whistle cut through the air, sharp and final, knocking her out of the thought. Practice was over. Just like that. And all at once, the noise returned, sneakers squeaking, water bottles snapping open, the hum of voices rising back into the space she’d carved out for silence.

Paige blinked, wiped her face with the hem of her shirt, and told herself to move.

But everything felt off—like the world was half a step ahead of her, and she couldn’t quite catch up. She moved slowly through the locker room. Slow to pack her bag. Slow to drift toward a conversation she would’ve once led without thinking. Like her body remembered how to be there, but not how to belong.

Her eyes flicked around the room, not looking for anything, until they landed on Caroline. Who was already watching her.

Caroline: Azzi’s best friend. Loyal, soft-spoken, sharper than she let on.

Paige had no idea what she knew. If Azzi had ever told her. If she’d shared any of it…them. Or if Paige had just been erased from the story.

She felt the thought creep in, uninvited and sharp: Maybe Azzi was embarrassed. Embarrassed that it had happened. 

They held eye contact for one suspended second. Not hostile.  Not soft. Just long enough for something to pass between them—something Paige couldn’t name. Then Caroline looked away. And so did she.

Eventually, Paige tugged her bag over her shoulder. The locker room had long since emptied out, and for a moment, she let the silence linger like it might settle something inside her. It didn’t. She stepped out into the hallway, footsteps echoing down the linoleum.

Outside, the sun had already dipped past the horizon, leaving campus washed in a dusky, dull glow. She shoved the door open and stepped into the chill, her body flinching instinctively against the wind. Her phone buzzed. She glanced down. Some email from her agent about scheduling. She didn’t read it, not really.

But then she felt it. Not a sound. Not a movement. Just a shift. The air changed. Like something important had entered the space. A whiff of vanilla. Her head snapped up. 

Azzi stood a few feet away, haloed by the dim orange spill of the streetlamp. Hoodie sleeves swallowed her hands. Curls tied up in a way that made Paige’s ribcage feel too tight for her lungs.

She looked like a memory Paige wasn’t allowed to touch anymore.

Azzi’s head turned then, like she’d felt Paige’s stare tugging at her spine. For a second, Paige braced for her to walk away. She looked like someone on the edge of it. But she didn’t.

“You’re leaving late,” Azzi said, voice soft.

Paige shrugged, because that’s what she did when she had too many feelings and no idea where to put them. “Didn’t really have anywhere to be.”

Azzi nodded, gaze drifting to the parking lot behind them like she was trying to pretend this was normal.

“Your shots looked good today.”

Paige rubbed the back of her neck, shifting her weight. Her body couldn’t take stillness in moments like this.

“Thanks,” she said, barely. “Yours too.”

Azzi smiled, if you could call it that. It didn’t reach anything. Polite and close lipped. 

“Thanks.”

And that was it.

But Paige could feel the words rising anyway, pressing against her throat like they might claw their way out if she didn’t let them. The messy ones. The ones she’d swallowed whole every day since Azzi left. Apologies that didn’t have a shape yet. Questions she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers to. Explanations that felt like too much but not enough.  Anything to pull Azzi closer.  Even just an inch.  Even just long enough to believe that gravity hadn’t let go of them completely.

Paige had never been the kind of girl who begged. She worked. She pushed. She earned. But pleading? That was foreign. That was weakness.

And yet—For Azzi, she would.

She would get on her hands and knees. Crawl across the asphalt if that’s what it took. She would press her forehead to the ground like it was holy. Like this was devotion. Like her humiliation could be translated into worth. 

She’d offer it all: every last bit of pride she hadn’t already chipped away. The ache in her chest that hadn’t stopped since Azzi stopped being hers. The soft, aching pieces of her that still pulsed like an old bruise she kept pressing on, just to check if it still hurt.

(It did. It always did.)

She’d lay herself bare in that quiet, ugly way—the kind of vulnerability that doesn’t transform you or teach you a lesson. It just leaves you exposed. Skin peeled back. Chest split wide.

If there was even the faintest chance that Azzi might look at her and think, Maybe she’s worth it. Even if she never said it.  Even if she just stood there in the dark, hoodie sleeves swallowing her hands, eyes flicking somewhere far away like Paige was too much to look at directly.

Paige would still do it.

Because that’s what you do when someone’s name lives in your mouth like a secret. You ruin yourself for the chance that they might whisper it back.

Azzi was still watching her—closely, unbearably—and Paige felt the sting behind her eyes before she could stop it. That helpless, traitorous burn.

“Azzi,” she said. Barely. A whisper shaped like a sob, like a plea she didn’t know how to finish.

And then headlights cut through the quiet.

A car Paige didn’t recognize pulled into the lot behind them, flooding the space with too much light. And without thinking, she stepped closer to Azzi. Instinctive. Stupid. Like her body still hadn’t gotten the memo that they weren’t them anymore. That Azzi didn’t need her like that.

But Azzi didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just turned like she already knew. Like some part of her had been waiting.

“Babe!” The word hit like a slap, soft and smiling. Cam leaned out the window, eyes finding Azzi first. Like she was his to look at. “Sorry I’m late. Practice ran over.”

Then his gaze shifted. Landed on Paige. And lingered. On their closeness. The silence that hadn’t quite scattered yet.

“Oh,” he added, a beat too light. “Hey, Paige. Sorry—did I interrupt something?”

Paige rolled her shoulders back, spine straightening. She inhaled like she could breathe the ache out of her body, make her voice clear again.

“Nothing important,” she said, cool and sharp around the edges. The kind of cool that cost her something.

And she swore, for just a second, something flickered in Azzi’s eyes. But Paige had lost her map to Azzi Fudd, and now every look felt like a dead language. Beautiful. Incomprehensible.

Azzi blinked, gaze steady. “Were you going to say something?”

Paige’s throat burned. She swallowed hard. “Nah. Don’t keep your boyfriend waiting.”

Azzi’s eyes widened, startled. “He’s not—”

“See you later.”

It came out too fast, too final. But she didn’t take it back. Didn’t wait for the explanation. Just turned, walking away before her knees could betray her. Before she did something stupid. Like stay.

[ldydeath]

I Love It | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: You and Jiyong have a running bet on who can make who crack the first on his M.O.T.T.E tour. Who knew all it would take was a wig and some very suggestive dance moves? Word Count: 2k Warnings: 18+, MDNI. Fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v., fluff at the end. Author's Note: This was requested by @nikolaikwon, hopefully I did you proud!

It had been going on all summer. Flirty jokes, longing glances, feelings you were both trying to ignore. You were Jiyong’s main dancer. You couldn’t afford to get into anything with him, fun or otherwise. He was also enlisting soon, there was no future for you, not one that ended happily at least. 

It was getting to a point where you needed to do something, though. You were getting tired of the games. Maybe just one night wouldn’t hurt anything. You just needed him to crack. And you had the perfect idea. 

You’d pulled the girls aside, explaining the outfit change for ‘I Love It’ that night, showed them the wigs too. They thought it was just a funny joke and had decided to do it. They had no idea what you were really planning. 

The lights dimmed to start the song and you took your position, laying down on the stage. You could feel Jiyong’s eyes on you, he knew something was off but in the dark he couldn’t really tell what it was. 

The music started, the lights came up and Jiyong blinked, a smirk on his lips. How could you look so fucking hot and goofy at the same time? The wigs were too much, but the outfit? Yeah, that would be his undoing. His eyes stayed on yours as you moved on the floor. He needed to look away. Otherwise he might just have you then and there on that stage. 

He turned, trying to focus on anything other than your legs in the air. The wigs were doing their part to make you look just a little less than perfect, but unfortunately for him, it wasn’t working well enough. 

He turned again, your wig flowing with your movements and he covered his face to stop from laughing. Yeah, you looked hot in that body suit, but the wig was keeping you balanced. He couldn’t take you seriously. He stood off to the side, his eyes staying on yours for longer than he liked. You noticed. You always did when he was looking at you. Your movements slow and deliberate as you slapped your hands on your thighs. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. His mouth wide, forgetting he was on stage for a second as he ran over to you. Realizing where he was, he threw himself down on the ground, a grin on his face as he sang the next lines of his song. His eyes staying on you. This might as well be a love song to you at this point, and it was in its own way. 

You were so close he could just reach out and touch you if he wanted too. You took a step back falling in line with the other dancers, a satisfied smirk on your face at Jiyong rolling around on the floor in front of you. He rolled over, crawling to you as if getting lost in the moment again. He’d take you now on this stage, fuck the consequences, if you’d have him. 

He stood up slowly reaching out for you but you moved just out of touch. He bent down, to cover for his movement and to also adjust himself so nobody got a peak at just how much he was reacting to you. You raised a brow at him and he shrugged ever so slightly. His eyes stayed on you as he continued on with the song. 

The song drew to a close and the lights went down, much to the relief of Jiyong. He grabbed you, flung you over his shoulder and ran off the stage. Your wig falling to the ground in the process as you laughed. He didn’t stop running until he was in his room. He eyed his crew and swallowed hard, forgetting they’d be in there. 

“Everyone out.” His grip tightened on you and you watched helplessly as everyone left the room. 

He locked the door as the last person ushered out quickly, before setting you down on the ground. You looked so much hotter now that the ridiculous wig was gone, it was almost too much for him to handle. 

“You think you’re funny, huh?” His eyes roamed your body before locking on your eyes. 

“Hilarious, actually.” You beamed, taking a step back from him. 

“You’re supposed to run all the changes by me.” He acted annoyed, or as annoyed as he could muster. 

“You gonna punish me?” 

His eyes bore into yours as he crossed the room. His lips crashing onto yours hungrily. God, he’d been wanting to do this for months. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you to him as his tongue darted out, begging for entrance. You parted your lips, happy to oblige, his tongue massaging yours. 

You let out a small whimper and Jiyong smirked. He may have caved first, but he’d always be able to claim that he could do that with a simple kiss. 

He lowered himself on the couch, bringing you down on top of him and your hips brushed against him. The feeling too much, and Jiyong almost let out a moan - almost, but he refused to let you be his undoing anymore than you already had. His hand gripped your hair, pulling you away from him as his lips brushed your throat. He kissed down your neck, biting along the way, leaving tiny marks he hoped wouldn’t fade anytime soon. You were his, and he wanted everyone to see it. 

His hand moved under your skirt and he sucked in a breath when he was met with your wet folds. He’d been expecting to meet the fabric of your panties. You smirked as his eyes locked on yours and his finger entered you. He pumped in and out of you hard, inserting another digit. His fingers curling inside of you as his thumb brushed your clit. 

“Ji, fuck.” You moaned, your hips rocking in his hand. 

His thumb moved faster, bringing you close to the edge, your breaths coming out in quick moans. He stopped, removing his fingers, his hand laying on your waist. Bringing you just close enough. You glared at him and he smirked. He was going to punish you alright. 

“What the fuck?” You groaned. 

“I think you owe me an apology.” He shrugged, leaning back on the couch. 

“Oh?” Your brows raised and you slid off his lap, falling to your knees in front of him. 

You unzipped his pants and pushed them down just slightly, freeing his aching cock. Your hand wrapped around his shaft and your lips hovered over him. You pumped him up and down slowly, your finger massaging over his tip before sliding back down. Jiyong sucked in a breath as your tongue darted out, licking the precum, before your mouth widened to take him in. 

You took him in as far as you could before you gagged, your eyes filling with tears. Jiyong’s hand moved to the back of your head, his fingers gripping your hair, hard. His hips bucked, and he began thrusting in and out of your mouth slowly. Your moans vibrating off his cock. His head leaned back against the couch as he took a second to collect himself. 

As good as this was, and trust him, it was the best he’d ever had, he didn’t want to come this way. He pulled your head back, your lips popping as you released yourself from his cock. 

You moved to straddle his lap and lowered yourself on him slowly, taking him inch by inch until he had fully entered you. You let out a moan, that Jiyong quickly hushed by kissing you. Nobody needed to know what was happening in this room, not yet. 

Your hands slid under his jacket, sliding it off of him, thankful that he didn’t have another shirt on underneath, your nails digging into his chest as your hips rocked against him in slow circles. Jiyong hissed as your nails tore this his flesh, maybe he could pass it off as a cat scratch later, and if not he didn’t care. 

His hand moved to your thighs, lifting up gently before letting you slam back down, his hips thrusting into yours as yours moved against him. His hands moved up, tearing at your shirt until it ripped off you. He’d just make you another one, or you could switch to another outfit all together. Whatever. He lowered his head to your breast, his hand moving to your other one. His tongue swirled your nipple as his fingers gently pinched your other one. 

“Ji, fuck.” You moaned. 

He took that as his encouragement to continue and he kissed his way over to your other breast, making sure to give each one the same amount of attention. 

“Gonna need you to come for me Aein, I can’t hold on for much longer.” Jiyong whispered against your skin. 

You shuddered, your hips moving faster and Jiyong matched your movements, thrusting into you hard. His hands moving back to your thighs, gripping you so tight you were sure he would leave bruises. 

You came loudly around him, your head falling back. His hand gripped your hair again, pulling you to him and he kissed you hard, biting down on your lip gently. His hips bucked into yours as he came inside you. You went to move off him but he held you in place, not ready for you to go yet. His dick twitching inside of you as he finished his orgasm. His lips stayed locked on yours, the kissing calming from a desperate to soft. 

“That was” You trailed off, a small smile on your face.

“Yeah.” He breathed as you climbed off him. Smoothing out your skirt. 

“Gonna need to borrow some clothes to get out of here.” Your hands moved to cover your bare chest.

Jiyong smirked as he zipped his pants back up. He stood up, sliding his jacket back on before walking over to you. He planted a soft kiss on your lips and moved your arms. 

“Don’t hide from me.” You blushed at his words, but kept your arms down at your side. 

Jiyong nodded, moving to his clothes rack, emerging a few seconds later with a simple t-shirt. It was one of his favorites, you’d recognized it right away. Jiyong and his Disney tees. 

“You sure?” He nodded and you slipped the shirt over your head. “Feel like I should ask what we are.” You joked. 

Jiyong snorted, his arms wrapping around you as his lips brushed yours softly. This was why he’d been avoiding his feelings for you. He knew he’d never get enough of you now. 

“We’re whatever you want us to be.” He shrugged. 

“Be still my heart.” You teased, your hand moving to rest on your chest. 

“You know what I mean. I think it's obvious how we feel about each other. But it’s up to you. Do you want to be with me? Because I understand if you don’t. I’m kind of broken goods these days. And I’m enlisting soon. Not a huge selling point.” He shrugged. 

“Hey, don’t do that.” Your hand moved to his cheek. “You are not broken, Jiyong. Are you kidding me? And I don’t care about enlistment. I care about you. You have me obsessed with you, no distance is ever going to change that. I’d wait for you, if you want someone to come home to. And I’ll remind you every day just how perfect you are. No more bad thoughts entering that pretty head of yours.”��

“You’re perfect.” Jiyong leaned in, his lips brushing against yours gently. “There’s nobody else I’d want to come home to. The idea of that makes these next 18 months all the more bearable.” 

“Come on. We have a show to finish.” Your hand brushed against his cheek gently before you let him go. 

He watched you as you walked out of the room, questioning how he’d managed to get so lucky. This tour had started out a shit show but you’d made it bearable from the start. One of the only familiar people he’d had, coming from BigBang to join him on tour. You’d really stepped into a leadership role and he’d been lucky to have you along for the ride. Now he’d get to take you home with him when this was all over. Maybe everything wasn’t as damaged as he thought it was. Maybe with your help there were other pieces of himself you could help mend along the way.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @aizshallnotbefound @loveesiren @gdinthehouseee @tulentiy @petersasteria @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @mirahyun @breakmeoff @1950schick @flymetothexmoon @sherrayyyyy @bettelaboure

[lightlycareless]

warnings: highschool au. fluff. naoya has been redeemed.

So, imagine the same situation where Gojo, Geto and Shoko had to go check in on Utahime and Mei Mei after their mission took a little longer than anticipated… only it’s Naoya having to check in on you instead.

However, this assignment doesn’t land on his hands just because, in fact, I believe that no one in jujutsu high thought him appropriate for such jobs; having well-earned the reputation of “careless with civilians” and “would scare sorcerers off the mission” to even consider him! He was simply out of the question.

It doesn’t stop Naoya from working his way around these hindrances, which he managed to do so by bribing. In other words, the moment he hears one of his fellow classmates has gotten assignment of his interest, he’s already signing checks under his name—only when threatening doesn’t work, of course; no one is deserving of his money.

Outside of you, whom he’s willing to dedicate his very own existence.

After making the appropriate arrangements, you’re naturally surprised to see he’s the one to come to your rescue when things to awry, instead of your sister (how did Naoya convince her to give him this task?), or even Gojo, depending on the complexity of said mission. Nanami sometimes comes along, but he’s usually paired with you.

Nonetheless, your shock doesn’t last long when you eventually warm up to his presence, ecstatic to see that all of your problems gone with the familiar, handsome face of your boyfriend.

“Naoya! I can’t believe you’re here!!” you gasp, diving into his arms. “Oh, you really are like a knight in shining armor!!”

“Did you expect someone else?” Even when coming to your rescue, he still manages to find a way to tease you. And sweep you off your feet, quite literally.

“No, of course not!” you gasp, blushing at his action—but even then… you don’t put up much of a fight. You couldn’t wait to leave all this behind and solely focus on him. “…Well, maybe, you’re not that keen on doing these types of things, right?”

“Only for you.” He winks, the warmth in your cheeks deepens. Since when was he this… charming? “Let’s get you out of here, princess. We have lots of other things to catch up to.”

“Wait, I can’t just leave my partner here! We have to appropriately finish this mission.” You say, gentling nudging him to put you down.

“You prefer your work partner over your actual partner?” he frowns, unmoving.

No, obviously! But you still held a big sense of responsibility when it came to your work, and such, Naoya rushes to wrap up your assignment so the two can finally indulge in each other’s presence.

His quickness to solve these matters soon made your classmates ecstatic to be paired with you, for it meant their work would be done the very moment you were deployed into a mission—and if that wasn’t enough, to also be treated a meal from those fancy restaurants Naoya likes to frequent (due to your insistence to include them, of course. If it were to him, he’d leave them to their own devices.) before being dumped back at jujutsu high, made their opinions about him change as well.

From an insufferable jerk, to a surprisingly devoted boyfriend, occasionally pleasant classmate—until his usual self surfaces once more and throws these thoughts out the window—it was no surprise many grew jealous of your relationship.

But not in the matter of coming in between the two and pursue its rupture, but rather, in the sense of demanding their own partners to be more like him, as shocking as that sounded! Depending on the perspective, it was quite a dreamy request.

Except for the small few who did want to ruin said relationship, setting their eyes on the prize that Naoya represented, with the sole intention of having him all for themselves, careless of what it takes.

Or who ends up hurt.

Ultimately, at your expense.

naoya stops his interventions at your missions soon after the teachers find out he's been bailing you out from work, and because you do take your preparation seriously lol. he hates it, but he hates the prospect of your anger even more.

also, the following piece to this is one i hate jfc. you shall know why eventually.

[rauferes]

I've been thinking a lot about Emmrich and lichdom, recently. (Staunchly pro-lich route people, you can stop here-- I hope you guys have a great day c: )

For me-- and this is entirely based on what I bring to the media as an audience member, not a reflection of Emmrich's character-- I'm most interested in exploring routes in which Emmrich ends up making peace with mortality and his fears surrounding death. Because at the end of the day, I do not live in a fantasy world. I am going to die, and given a choice, I'd like to be at peace with that. So for me, there's more value in learning how to live with a terrible truth than escapism, at the moment. One day, if I'm lucky, I'll be Emmrich's age, and then older than him. When senescence is in my near future, I very much doubt I'll be as blasé about it as I am now. There's a focusing effect of knowing the decline that's coming, that's almost here... And everyone says life passes much faster than you think.

So. How does one learn to live with the fleeting, fragile moments we have? How does one realize that greatness is a rare thing indeed-- and one gained only if you are willing to sacrifice a great many trappings of a normal, mundane life? How does one learn to savor the moment that is, and stop chasing a tantalizing and yet hollow future, where no achievement seems to satisfy as much as it feels it should?

I've realized, also, that to become a lich, Emmrich must cease to be himself. I don't mean some nonsense about flesh or having a human body (although I have thoughts about that too)-- I mean, very concretely, that the way Emmrich moves through the world is incompatible with lichdom. In my personal characterization of him, he loves deeply, but struggles with impermanence, with endings-- heartbreak shatters him, and he finds it difficult to move on. People he'd known and loved deeply for a year or two become light anecdotes, yes, but only after decades have passed. (Far more years than he'd ever known them; the wounds run deep.)

To survive lichdom sane, I think he would need to detach. Shutter his heart. Learn to hold the world and the people in it more lightly; eventually, come not to hold them at all.

Emmrich, I think, views lichdom as a triumph: a shining chance to become something greater than a human. To give the world more than he could with time cut short.

The picture I have of his immortality is nothing like his, and it haunts me: there is, you see, more than one way to dig your own grave. Emmrich Volkarin, centuries from now, sits in the library that he has amassed, fully withdrawn into his tomes. The time comes when he no longer has windows-- for the light damages the books, you see-- no longer lights the braziers. He reads by the light of his own eyes.

The only people in his life exist as memories-- and slowly, they, too, fade.

[abyssyby]

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ author’s note — two birds on a wire

( ⸝⸝•ᴗ•⸝⸝ )੭⁾⁾ hello!

if youre here right now, you might be seeing this before two birds on a wire or after. if you haven’t read it, this author’s note might contain spoilers. this fic took me a while to write and as i finish, i can’t help but feel sentimental about it so i wanna talk cuz im gonna miss it (high chance i might snowball more emotional branches to this story in time n im being dramatic, but rn this is my baby)

two birds on a wire was supposed to be a crackfic bc i was frustrated with sylus’s cards coming home to me @ hard hard pity. mentioned here to rng anon (HI RNG ANON ILY!)

so it was an “ok u made me anxious pulling and failing, im gonna make ur kids follow u to a mission” and it was supposed to be him just scolding the boys & showing them what papa does for work. and the boys kinda going “cool! papa cool! i love papa >0<.”

but then it didn’t even get to that point because the moment i wrote Lucian sneaking up on him on his very dangerous flight on his way to his very dangerous mission on this secluded island of thieves and snakes— I felt the fear. the immediate clicking in sylus going “this is my son. this is my son and right now he is in danger.”

and the snowball started there— sylus wouldn’t be thrilled, he’d be mortified. scared out of his wits that he was innocently followed by his boys to just spend time with him, not knowing the stakes they’ve raised by being there.

and then that was a whole exploration of how sylus might handle this situation given who he is, what he's dealing with and who he's dealing with. how he would need to be the ruthless man at work, but also just papa so as not to traumatize his children to oblivion. how this event— the thought of losing his most precious boys to him despite success and victory, but the what-if that haunts him��� would shatter him body and soul because he can't, he cannot have love taken away from him again.

and then like magnetized blocks, everyone just started falling apart— you who lost them in the first place, kieran and luke who were also supposed to be watching them and the little twins who, now realizing what they just walked into, were the epicenter of the earthquake.

as i wrote, i saw how this family would have had the dynamic of desperately trying to hold each other up while helplessly falling apart— and that's where MC/you/mama shines, as that broken savior, despite being weakened and battered by the events at hand, you— beloved, mama, boss hunter— still show up for them all. BECAUSE LOVE>??!!??!

it was a very challenging and stimulating process to get working on, but I'm hoping i did it well enough to showcase each one's nuances & complexities. and my most important hurdle when writing: giving each character their own texture and voice. so this was a super enjoyable study on how to do that (was not fun i cried real tears)

anyway, if you've read it and you're here— thank you so much. i am forever and always grateful for people giving my stories a chance & endlessly appreciative of your time reading them. especially this one, since it's longer than the rest.

if you haven't and you're considering to— I hope you like it!! I appreciate you as well.

All the kind comments, replies, tags, reactions, reblogs, etc. that let me know how the work was received are never taken for granted. i see you, i appreciate you will all my heart. you all make my days & weeks, and i hope my stories do the same for you in return.

thank you, stay safe & kind, dunno why this is ending like a love letter now, but much much love.

ʕ⁠っ⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠ʔ⁠っ ♡ urs

[obitez]

Troubled Waters

Another 8x17 coda fic, because I can't help myself | AO3 Link

Since Bobby’s death, Buck and Tommy… they had started growing close to each other again. 

It was good, healthy in a way for someone to be there when you were grieving a great loss. Even though Tommy still had feelings for Buck, and he felt they were reciprocated, he didn’t think this was the best time with everything going on for them to get back together again. 

So things were growing as if they were close friends. Nothing like when they were dating, nothing like that at all. They hadn’t shared any kisses or other displays of affection beyond one or two supportive hugs, the same kind Tommy would share with someone like Chimney or anyone else he worked closely with now or in the past. 

But Buck and Tommy had started talking again. Started talking to each other again and stopped leaving the elephants unspoken about. 

Most of their communication had been over the phone or through text messages, but they had met up in person a handful of times too. 

On one such occasion, two days before the funeral, Tommy had run into Eddie on the day he arrived at Buck’s house. To say that the meeting had been awkward was an understatement. 

Eddie clearly didn’t forgive him for whatever he thought happened between Buck and Tommy when they broke up. And Tommy didn’t feel the need to get forgiveness from the man. 

They had spent pretty much the entire dinner avoiding talking and looking at each other, almost like Buck was having dinner with two different people at the same time. Tommy had tried his best to avoid Eddie after that. 

That night was about a week ago now. 

Tommy had texted Buck that morning, in the way he had done almost every morning in the last couple weeks, asking how Buck was doing. Not if he was okay, Tommy knew if he asked that Buck would just say ‘yes’, but an open ended question that Buck would actually have to describe how he was doing. 

Evan: Doing better

Evan: Think Eddie’s starting to grow on me tho

Tommy: What do you mean by that? 

As much as Tommy knew Buck and Eddie were best friends and that Bobby’s death hadn’t done anything to diminish that, Tommy had picked up on a certain… strained between the two the longer Eddie had stayed at Buck’s place. Nothing that screamed imminent doom for their friendship, but more in the way Buck was annoyed by having to share his personal space with someone. Tommy knew, from the months they had dated, Buck usually wasn’t one to get annoyed by people being in his place. But it probably had to do with a mix of still dealing with the aftermath of Bobby’s death and the fact that, from the time he was over there with Eddie, Eddie still treated the place like his own. 

Evan: Doesn’t matter. Ravi said Eddie got the job with El Paso Fire, he should be going back to Texas by the end of this week.

At first Tommy wanted to point out that whatever Buck was feeling with the man, it did matter, but his focus was pulled more towards the second sentence. Why was Ravi the person to tell Buck that, when Buck was living with Eddie? 

Tommy: That sounds good for him. 

It took a long… long moment for Buck to respond to that. 

Evan: Yeah.

Tommy didn’t need to hear Buck’s voice say it to tell he wasn’t that enthusiastic about Eddie’s new job. 

Tommy: Do you not want him to go back to TX?

It took a while for Buck to send a message back to that question. Tommy watched as the text bubbles popped up, then disappeared, then popped up again, for a couple more minutes. Whatever Buck sent, Tommy knew he found the touchy subject Buck was acting hesitant about. 

Evan: No, or well, I’m happy he got the job and is going back to his family. Also, things are getting kind of cramped over here. I’m just kind of annoyed he didn’t tell me himself, we’re living together rn. 

Evan: And I mean, I’m trying to be supportive and help him, but he’s just like, pushing me away. 

Yeah, Tommy could understand Buck’s annoyance with that. 

Tommy: Do you have anything going on tonight?

Tommy asked the question, not expecting or hoping for either a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer. Maybe, if possible, they could meet and talk about this stuff in person. It would be better than texting, and it had been about a week since they’ve seen each other in person. 

Evan: Not really. Since I took an extra shift on Monday, Gerrard said I could get off at 2 unless some big emergency comes up. Needed to pick some stuff up at the store. Other than that nothing’s going on. 

Tommy: I could bring some take out over. Got some coupons for that Indian place that opened on Powers Street

Evan: You don’t have to do that. 

Tommy: Don’t worry, I want to do this. 

If there was one thing that worried Tommy the most these last three weeks, it was that Buck was continuously putting others before himself, to the point where if someone offered him help, he was pushing them away. Maybe that was one of the reasons Tommy had made sure to keep in contact with him. 

It took a second, and another message from Buck came in. 

Evan: Okay, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. 

🚁 🚁 🚁 🚁 🚁

Tommy pulled up on the street outside of Buck’s house. He got out and grabbed the bag of take out he had sat on the floor in front of the passenger’s seat, closing the door behind him and walking up to Buck’s door. 

Tommy had walked in, the front door unlocked like Buck had said, and through the angle he was looking towards the kitchen at, he could see Buck standing, back to the wall, with Eddie standing in front of him, nearly chest to chest, Eddie’s arm against Buck, aggression oozing out of him. 

Tommy let his presence be known by slamming the door closed behind him, both Eddie and Buck quickly turning their heads in his direction. 

Eddie dropped his arm, letting out a breath and taking a step back. “T- Tommy!” Buck called out. 

“Hey,” Tommy said. He lifted his arm holding the food. “I brought the food, what’s going on?” he asked, trying to play it cool and bring a calmness to whatever was just going on. 

“Nothing,” Eddie said as he turned around and leant against the opposite counter. 

Tommy had to lift an eyebrow in disbelief at that. Whatever was happening, it definitely wasn’t ‘nothing.’ 

“We- we were just talking,” Buck said, mumbling and looking down at his feet. “Eddie finally got a position with El Paso Fire,” he said, as if he hadn;t told Tommy that only hours before, probably because he didn’t want Tommy to know what they were actually talking about. 

Eddie let out a harsh breath and he turned around, his back leaning against the kitchen counter as Tommy walked in, setting the bag of take out on a far counter. With all three grown men standing in there, the already small kitchen felt infinitely smaller, and the tense atmosphere did nothing to help. 

“You just can’t leave anything between us, can you?” Eddie asked. 

Buck shifted on his feet. “Again, sorry for assuming you would have told me instead of needing to find out from someone else. You’re freaking living with me right now.” 

So this was what this ‘argument’ was about, if you could call Eddie pinning someone to a wall an argument. From his texts earlier, Tommy figured this might be a topic of conversation tonight. 

“And again you’re making it about yourself,” Eddie bit out. 

Tommy watched as Buck bit his lip, but before he stepped in to say something and try to dispel this whole fight, Buck continued. “I just want to know what’s going on! Sorry about that!” 

“Oh, you want to know what’s going on!” Eddie repeated. “Well maybe if you hadn’t been constantly ‘checking in on us’ I would have told you!” 

“Well sorry for caring about everyone! I just wanted to make sure everyone was doing okay after… after…” Even after all this time, Buck still had trouble voicing the event. 

“You want to know what it feels like for me?” Eddie asked. “Well, what do you want to know? How I had to wake up in the middle of the night to find out Bobby died. Or how I had to hold it in to not wake my son up? Or how I had to tell my son the next morning that another person that he loved was dead? Of what? You want to know about all of the thoughts running through my head on how if I was here we might have been able to save him?” 

“What- What are you saying? You think we didn’t try everything to save him?” Buck asked. 

“How should I know? I wasn’t there,” Eddie threw back. 

Tommy’s eyes widened in complete shock. Did he really just hear Eddie say that? As if that was Buck’s fault? 

“Okay, that was uncalled for,” Tommy said, directing Eddie’s attention from Buck to him. 

“And who do you think you are to have a say in any of this?” Eddie asked. 

“I was there too!” he shouted, making them all go silent. “We were all there, all doing the best we could to save everyone, when you were across the country, so why do you feel the need to question any of this?!” 

“Tommy-” Buck began to say as he took a light hold of one of Tommy’s hands. 

Eddie cut him off by speaking. “Look man! This is about you, this is between me and Buck!” 

“Oh, don’t give me that Eddie!” Tommy said. “You lost that when you put your hands on him!”

Eddie scoffed, looking away from them. “Well sorry for wanting to grieve in my own way.”

“You’re not the only one grieving here, Eddie,” Tommy bit out. “We all are, that doesn’t give anyone the right to attack someone like this.” 

They all lapsed into a very tense silence after that. Eddie glaring daggers at Tommy. Tommy stood firm and not backing down to him. Buck looked nervously between them, but drifting closer to Tommy. 

“I think you should leave,” Buck said, just over a mumble, just loud enough for all of them to clearly hear what he said. 

Eddie’s head whipped up to look at him. “What?” he asked. 

Buck took a deep breath, giving his eyes a hard blink as he looked at Eddie, making direct eye contact with him. “I said… you should leave… You, Eddie.” 

Eddie brought a hand up to his head and ran it through his hair. Letting out half of a laugh, he said, “This is hilarious, you know that.” 

Tommy felt more than saw Buck take a half step back, straightening his posture as he did so.  

Eddie dropped his arm and shifted his gaze between the two of them a couple times, before eventually landing back on Buck. “When this blows up in your face again, don’t come crying to me,” Eddie said before he turned around and left the kitchen. 

It took a couple minutes, a couple banged doors later, but then Eddie was gone. Tommy didn’t know where, but he didn’t particularly care right now. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know Eddie was gonna be here when you arrived,” Buck said after a moment. 

Tommy resisted the urge to sigh, knowing it wouldn’t be reassuring to Buck at all. “It’s fine, I figured he would most likely be here anyway.” 

“Still,” Buck said, wrapping his hands around one of the cans he had just taken out of the shopping bag. “You shouldn’t- you shouldn’t have had to walk in on that.” 

“Really, it isn’t a problem,” Tommy said, then paused and rethought something Buck had just said. “When I walked in it looked like he was about to hit you,” Tommy said, his voice almost near a whisper. 

“It- it wasn’t like that!” Buck suddenly said, looking slightly startled. “He- Eddie’s- He never hurt me before!” 

“Never hurt you?” Tommy asked. 

Buck gulped, looking down at the can and picking his fingers at it. “It was years ago now. Doesn’t matter.” 

Tommy knew when to drop a subject. He wouldn’t drop it for good, but he would for now. Instead he walked back a couple steps and picked up the bag of food, setting it down on the kitchen island. 

Buck looked back up, still looking slightly shaky. “What did you get?” he asked. 

“Their sampler and some samosas,” Tommy said. “Didn’t really know what I was reading on their menu.” 

That elicited a small laugh from Buck. “You could have sent me their menu. I could’ve told you what sounded good.” 

“I’ll remember that for next time.” 

🚁 🚁 🚁 🚁 🚁

They fell asleep watching movies on the couch in Buck’s living room, leaning against each other. Buck’s cheek pressed into the bony tip of Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy was woken up by the sun peeking through the blind on the window on the other side of the room. 

“Tommy?” he heard Buck’s voice softly ask after a while. He turned his head to the side, he hadn’t even realized Buck had woken up yet. 

“Hmm?” he hummed. 

Buck lifted his head to look at Tommy’s face. “You stayed?” he asked. 

Tommy gave him a soft smile. “Of course,” he said. 

Buck lowered his head to place his forehead against Tommy's large biceps. “This is the first time you’ve stayed over since that night,” Buck said, followed by a small squeeze to his forearm and what Tommy probably guessed was a smile on Buck’s face. 

“I guess it is.”

“Thank you… for everything.”

“No problem.”

[jwsverse]

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 timestamp 19:29

pairing ⁝ lee heeseung x f!reader

synopsis ⁝ in which you will always wait for him to be ready, and he will always be for you.

genre ⁝ fluff, light angst, based off en-drama heeseung heh

word count ⁝ 0.9k

heeseung doesn't speak much. he doesn't talk easily and he doesn't respond immediately. it's not that he's an introvert, well he is, but there's something else.

heeseung needs time. he needs to think — he likes to think, a lot. he like to process words and ends up taking too long to respond to people. he isn't sure how he should react when these people don't wait and just take their leave instead.

he knows it's stupid to think about even the silliest of things during a conversation as simple as “how are you?” but it's an instinct thing, and genuinely, he's just a curious person to everything.

how am i? what have i been up to lately...? how am i feeling? what should i say?

thoughts consume his mind and before he knows it, the person who asked him the question has already left. they assume he's ignoring them and heeseung has no idea how to fix it.

heeseung thought he fixed this habit when he met you, who waited the longest for his response and never judged him for his short hesitant answers. he felt seen and known whenever you stayed to listen to him talk, even if he never said much.

to be loved is to be seen, is what they say. and that was exactly what heeseung felt with you.

despite his dry answers, you always asked questions with your pretty smile and soft excited tone. you always looked for him and you always, always waited.

“it's okay, take your time,” you'd say.

he thought he had someone who understood him and he never went on to fix this habit of not speaking his thoughts.

until you started avoiding him like a plague the weekend after sunoo's birthday party.

heeseung had no idea what he did, or perhaps said. he just knew that even the smallest of eye contact had you turning away in an instant. you'd take a longer route to the bathroom just to avoid walking pass his class, going as far as waking up two hours earlier for school just so you won't bump into him on the way.

it seemed like now, really, no one wanted to listen to him, and heeseung despised it. he could handle everyone ignoring him, ignoring his quiet antics and lack of responses. but he could not take you not uttering a word to him. he wasn't sure why, but he just knew it was something he had to change.

so with this new determination set in stone, heeseung woke up three hours earlier for school and waited for you outside your place for an hour or more. any time soon now, you would step out of your door in your cute maroon cardigan and neatly pinned hair.

when you did, it didn't take you long to notice heeseung standing outside your porch. you tried to rush back in but he was calling your name before you could even put on your shoes.

“i...” he rubbed his neck uncomfortably, “i just wanted to talk.“

you hesitated, before nodding and slipping your shoes on. he watched you silently as you then looked up at him and bit your lips anxiously. he took it as a sign to say something.

“um, well i just, uh, you know,” heeseung stuttered, “look, did i do something wrong lately?”

you rock on the tip of your heels and toes, “well, no, i suppose.” you reply honestly albeit hesitant.

“then… why haven’t you been talking to me lately?”

you seem taken aback, but you don’t shy away and instead you smile sadly.. “because, you don’t.”

“huh?”

“heeseung,” you say firmly, meeting his eyes with your wide ones, sending his mind into a frenzy. “i really like you. i know you think a lot and i know people misunderstand you, but i won’t.”

heeseung’s breath catches, hammers against his ribcage. it thunders and all heat rushes to his cheek at your confession.

“but i also know, that i can’t keep clinging to you all the time.” you sound exhausted, pained. heeseung doesn’t want to think in this moment — he can’t because his feelings are overpowering all his thoughts as you ramble and then suddenly—

his lips are pressed to yours with a gentle touch. you’re frozen, and then your fingers tremble as you bring it to his sides and grip onto his school blazer.

heeseung pulls away after a short second, breath shaky as he stutters, “s-sorry, i…”

your eyes are blown wide, in shock and… happiness? wordlessly, your grip on him tightens and you lean forward again, softly pecking his lips. heeseung gasps after you pull away, erupting a giggle from you.

“you kissed me first, now you’re shocked?”” you say, nose grazing his.

“i just... i think i'm in love with you.”

huh?

“what?”

“what?”

you burst out into laughter, as heeseung blushes so hard his entire neck to ears go red. you grin at him, tears decorating the corner of your eyes from how funny he is, and heeseung thinks he's never seen something prettier.

“heeseung, thank you for telling me how you feel.” you interlock your fingers with his. your tone is gentle and full of patience, and when you squeeze his hand in yours, heeseung knows — you're here.

and even though his mind is in spirals and words jumble, heeseung lets himself relax against you and he smiles against the skin of your neck.

because at the end of the day, you'll be there to wait until he's ready to say something, anything.

© jwsverse

[girlyassumes]

Success story #10: Getting a boyfriend who meets my standards (and beyond)

I've been needing to share this story because it baffles me and I could've never seen it coming. Fair warning, this is a long story, but it means a lot to me - it's been life-changing.

So, for a long time, I really liked my coworker, Bee, who I've talked about many times on my blog. However, I had a lot of resistance towards him. I struggled real badly to see a newer, better version of him, especially since we interact multiple times a week. I also still acted like I was single and would take notice to other cute guys at my job, affirming to myself - just for funsies - that they all liked me too ("All the guys at my work are in love with me!")

This was months and months on end of me making a poor attempt to manifest him as my boyfriend and roommate. I wanted him to do things like surprising me with flowers, cuddling with me on my couch, and texting/calling me all the time (keep these things in mind as I tell my story). I feel like I tried so many different techniques, like referring to him as my boyfriend in my mind, scripting, SATS - you name it, I probably tried it. I simply couldn't get myself to see him as mine. So, after getting fed up, I asked myself "why do I truly want him?" and "what is it that I want in my dream person anyhow?" I was mainly drawn to Bee for his cute looks and kindness. But, beyond that, I found him boring (honestly!) I had to sit and dive deeper into the qualities I want in someone (ie. being a romantic, being healthily obsessed with me)

I couldn't see it coming, but not much longer after making more lists and easing up on Bee, one of the other cute guys at my job - we'll call him Mickey - started inching his way towards me. Mickey started showing signs that he had romantic feelings for me, but I was oblivious, and it wasn't fully clicking in my mind that he had feelings for me. At one point, he gave me his number, using the excuse that he wanted to help me with painting my new place since it's something I'd been complaining about to him.

Well, after we started messaging each other outside of work, things had the most natural flow I could've ever imagined and I realized I had been developing feelings for him, too. We hung out by going on a walk one night, then, the following day, he surprised me with breakfast (my favorite meal of the day) and then later on that day, took me on a date. But, the best part? He brought flowers to my door, just like I had always wanted. And, get this: he didn't even know I'd been desperately wanting someone to surprise me with flowers.

Mickey also has the exact same personality as me, down to the littlest quirks and interests (EIYPO proven, right there). We cuddle on my couch all the time and he is the best texter I've ever met. He is also super romantic and healthily obsessed with me (like, tells me all the time how cute I am and how infatuated with me he is but said if I need space, let him know). He'll listen to everything I say and stop doing something if I don't like it (I kid you not, he's already keeping himself from smoking since I told him I can't stand the smell).

I don't have that same level of infatuation as he does, but my relationship with Mickey is so, so different than every other past relationship I've ever had. I never feel comfortable letting people sleep in the same bed as me and get sick of spending day after day with people (I'm a massive introvert). But, with Mickey, those have never been an issue and I care about him so much. I feel so drawn to him in a way that I can't even put into words.

I also never understood certain things in relationships, but he changed my mind so quickly. Let me go over some points:

For one thing, I never fully understood age gap couples and it's something I'd thought about a lot, especially since my sister and I talked about it recently and I follow a cute couple on Instagram who are 12-13 years apart from each other. I learned very quickly that doesn't matter (as long as it's not between a kid/teen and adult, and you're in similar/same states in your life). Mickey and I have a 14 year gap but it hardly ever feels that way, especially since we're at a very similar point in our lives (both living on our own, working the same job) and are so much alike. With all this being said, take note of what you're consuming online and what you're often talking about with others, because it can manifest itself into your life.

I also remember one of my exes actively talking about how he didn't believe in love at first sight, which I agreed with him doesn't exist. For years, I felt this way. But, I remember I started feeling differently when I thought back on my first interaction with Bee back before I met Mickey. However, Mickey really confirmed this for me when he started talking about when he first saw me. Mickey was 100% in love with me when he first saw me. No doubt in my mind about that. I was thinking about love at first sight - it manifested in my life.

My sister has told me about "when you know, you know," her situation with her boyfriend moving in with her almost right away, and how it's more comforting sleeping next to the person you're with. I didn't stand by any of that. I thought it was all weird and it didn't make sense to me. But, of course, Mickey completely changed my mind. There is this indescribable connection between us, I am so comfortable sleeping in the same bed as him (I actually sleep better when he's there), and he already has his own spare key to my house. Crazy, I know. All these doubts I had were blown out of the water.

So, you might be wondering, how did I manifest Mickey into my life who meets all of my standards and beyond? Well, for one thing, there was that stupid affirmation I told myself about other cute guys at my work loving me, too (this of course included Mickey). There was also so much subconsciously manifesting over time that led me to this point, between everything I was thinking about, things I was talking about with others, and all the content I was consuming, all related to romantic relationships. It's proof that you subconsciously manifest things all the time and years worth of things can manifest their way into your life without you even realizing, even silly little things, like how I thought it'd be cool if Bee had tattoos since I love Harry Styles with his tattoos - Mickey has a ton. There were definitely some underlying feelings for Mickey, too, I just chose to ignore them while I was trying to manifest Bee. But, undeniably, I loved talking to Mickey and being teased by him. I'd even look for his name on the daily work schedule just like I'd do with Bee.

But, here's the most interesting part that really made me understand that I subconsciously manifested this relationship. Mickey always talks about how he's felt drawn to me like a magnet from the very moment he met me. He said he doesn't know how to properly explain it, but he has always felt so drawn to me from the start and it just kept building ever since. He said it's infatuation/love like he's never had for anyone else in his life. He'd even pull the same exact move I would where he'd purposely go out of his way to walk by my department just to see me. That is very much all me; all my doing. I can't deny that. Me being with him is like me falling in love with a different version of myself, which in all honesty, makes sense since I've developed such a healthy relationship with myself this year.

TLDR: if there's an SP you've been trying to get and have had resistance towards, ask yourself why and also understand there might be someone else behind the scenes who's even better; someone who makes every single doubt of yours go away.

[kaunis-sielu]

Small Town, Big City: End

Steve is standing to the left of you and you’re not sure how he got there, or when he got there. His taser is pointed at Brock and he looks furious.

“You’re gonna let T move away from the door then you’re gonna lay flat on your stomach with your hands behind your back.” Steve orders and for a second you’re afraid that Brock might do another stupid thing and not listen. He seems to be weighing his options when Steve says, “Do it now or you’re getting tased.” Brock glares for a moment longer before stepping away from you and lying down on the floor.

“Tor, get over here.” Steve orders gently, you scurry around Brock to behind Steve where Bucky has moved. Steve moves in then planting a knee in the middle of Brock’s back Steve handcuffs Brock quickly.

“How did you find her? How long have you been stalking Tor?”

“I haven’t been stalking her. She let me follow her on the stupid app.” Brock grumbles and your jaw drops open. Sam’s app.

“Buck stay in here with T okay?”

“Yea.” Bucky agrees as Steve yanks open the front door and leads Brock out in front of him. Fury comes charging back into the house once Steve and Brock are out of the way. He comes directly to you and you sink to the floor wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You good boy. You good, good boy.” You praise Fury who wags his tail. “Thank you for coming Bucky.” You say not moving from where you’ve got your arms around Fury.

“Smart move letting Fury out the front.”

“I hoped you’d bring him home again. I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this.”

“Don’t be sorry. I called Steve to come get him and he figured something must be wrong.” Bucky tells you as the door opens again and Steve comes back into the house.

“Sweetheart. You okay?” He asks making a beeline for you. Instead of you standing Steve drops down and pulls you to him.

“I’m okay. Sorry I put Fury at risk, I didn’t want Brock to get bit and have to put him down or something.” You tell Steve wrapping one of your arms around his body so you can keep hold of Fury too. Steve buries his face into the space between your shoulder and neck. You close your eyes and slowly relax against him.

“How did you get in the house?” You murmur,

“Climbed in through the window.” You pull away from him in surprise,

“What?”

“The side window. If you jiggle it just right you can pop it open. I keep meaning to fix it but haven’t found the time yet.”

“Thank god.”

“I was getting to you one way or another. Thankfully Bucky was game to play distraction while I called for backup.”

“What if he had a gun?”

“Buck’s armed.” You look to where Steve’s best friend had been standing last time you saw him but he’s gone. “He’s an expert marksman.”

“Holy shit.” You murmur and he laughs softly,

“Yea, when we were in the service together, he saved my ass more than once. You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yea. He’s delusional. Thought we were still together.”

“I’m pressing charging for breaking and entering. Do you want to press charges for stalking?”

“I don’t know. I just want him to go away.”

“Sweetheart, that would be the best way to keep him away.”

“It just seems so harsh.” You admit with a soft sigh, as you move away from Steve. You don’t want to ruin Brock’s life or anything.

“Tor, it’ll just make it easier for any other victims he gets in the future.” Steve tells you standing up and holding a hand out to you.

“You think he might do this again?” You ask as he pulls you to your feet.

“I think it’s a possibility. I don’t mean to scare you but this could have been really bad.” He’s right. You know he is but you kind of can’t help but feel bad for Brock. You really hadn’t been that heartbroken over your break up, more annoyed and frustrated.

“I think, I think I’d like to press charges.” Steve nods,

“I have to go in and write this up.”

“Tonight?”

“Yea. I also have to get his truck towed.”

“Was that him? The black truck?” You ask and Steve nods, “I’m so sorry Steve. If it wasn’t for me.”

“He made his choices. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You end up going with Steve to the station. Since you’re pressing charges it makes sense for you to go but you’re glad that Clint had come to get Brock so you didn’t have to ride with him in the back of Steve’s cruiser. You also convince him to bring Fury with, he’s the best boy and deserves the reward of hanging out with you both for the night. You know that Brock sees you when you come in, but you ignore him and go into Steve’s office to give your statement. Clint joins you and when you look confused Steve explains,

“There’s a conflict of interest because we’re dating so Clint is going to take your statement. I can leave or stay but I’m here as your boyfriend not as sheriff.” You give your statement holding tightly to Steve’s hand.

After you give your statement you, Steve and Fury head back home. You’re quiet on the ride home, kind of stuck in your own head about all the Brock shit but when Steve kisses you softly you forget all about Brock.

“Are you okay?” He asks brushing a thumb along your jaw. You nod,

“Can, can I sleep in your room tonight? I don’t think I’m ready to be alone.”

“Yea. I also want to jam the window I came through. Just in case.”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t we take this in baby steps?” When you look at him in confusion he clarifies, “why don’t you head upstairs while I let Fury out then deal with this window. Be alone, in a safe space, in a safe way, for a little bit.”

“I think I can do that.” You admit softly, “thank you.”

“Sweetheart, you have nothing to thank me for. It was my fault that he came in, if I had stayed.”

“Don’t.” You tell him cutting him off, “if you won’t let me take the blame then you can’t take the blame either.”

“Okay.” You go to start upstairs but Steve holds onto your hand. “I love you.” He says, his ears turning red.

“I love you too.” You tell him, before wrapping your arms around his torso. Steve laughs softly as he wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Oh yes, there is Knowhere like home.

Tag list:

@foxyjwls007 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @zaraomarrogers @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @wonderlandfandomkingdom @patzammit @abschaffer2 @capsiclesdoll @killcomet @sass-masterkittenmama

[janiehellion]

Not to be dramatic, but this comment on AO3 actually made me tear up in the best way possible. I did respond to it already, but I still feel like nothing I say could do justice to how much it really means to me. (Keeping their username hidden due to privacy and out of respect.)

And I know... I don't usually post randomly like this, but writing fanfiction—especially in a fandom like The Walking Dead, where so many writers are ridiculously talented, writers like Krys, Murda, Taylor, and so many more, but especially those that I follow and got the incredible chance to interact with so far.

Yes, there are writers who put out works way faster than I ever could and ever did in years—it can be really isolating. (If this is the right word... I don't know how to explain it better.) Especially when you write slowly, when you're anxious as shit, or when your fics simply don't get much reach or interaction because they're just... too damn long.

(My current draft for a requested one-shot is over 30K, and I'm trying to shorten it simply because I know that most don't wanna read that many words regarding a Daryl Dixon x Reader fic. My drafts just keep getting longer, so no wonder I barely even post, and I do wanna apologize for that.)

Anyway, I'm one of those writers who rereads their own fanfics over and over again, and constantly hearing that little voice telling me, "This isn't good enough. It's just bad. Delete it." Like, all the time. I overthink every line and every word. So I end up trying everything to make a fic at least okay to read… and then doubting whether the plot even makes sense or if it sounds the way I want it to. Especially when writing for characters like Daryl, Rick, Negan, or Shane—these kinda characters that have been written so incredibly well by so many others, those who are able to put it all in fewer words than I do.

But then someone, a stranger, leaves a comment like this.

They didn't just say "Great fic!" (which I also appreciate so deeply, don't get me wrong,) but they saw the exact things I try so hard to do: tone, emotion, clarity, and consistency. They said my writing was inspirational. They literally bookmarked it as a reference for what they want to achieve. As someone with English as their first language, no less. And, as you can see, they said I should be less hard on myself.

Do you understand how healing that is to read?

I still can't believe it's real. This is just insane to me. It makes all the hours of obsessing over every damn draft feel seen and heard.

To the person who wrote this: thank you. You are one of the few humans that encourage me to keep writing. Same with the other authors I got to know through Tumblr, AO3, and Wattpad so far.

I just never would've thought that sometimes, a stranger somewhere on this planet, this world, would remind me of how much I love writing at exactly the right time. You never know what someone might go through offline, and I absolutely needed this. This is why feedback matters.

[soulstagger]

Again that name, but for now Flavia could breath slightly easier. She was somewhere she knew, without any eyes that would be poking their heads in anytime soon. It might be a little tough to sneak Yuuna out later, but with her one trick she had out of the bag.

They could figure something out to get Yuuna home, or at least somewhere she knew so she could make her own way home. At least later, right now Flavia knew she had quite the night before her.

Her apartment was at the end of the hall, the storage beside it, and a nosy but not yet home neighbor. They could be loud, anything Yuuna might want, though Flavia knew she'd have to steel herself.

At this point, even she couldn't stop. Those desires no longer allowed to bottle themselves down, less punishment follow her from somewhere else after. Flavia even started to undo her blouse, opening it, slowly unclasping her skirt and gently pulling those pointless panties down.

They were soaked already, they'd only get in the way.

Was she always like this? Red cheeks, so lewd and even wondering what could follow now that she'd been dragged through such an experience. Her body already felt a dull ache, if she continued, Yuuna would milk her till nothing shot out. How would she handle that?

This would also be the first time anyone else joined her in her own bed, by Flavia's own choice.

"T-then...I... I don't do this all the time.. You know? Everything that's happened, It's not..." She has a demeanor similiar to that very Belle-sama Yuuna whispers.

Not to the real witch, but the fake image before. Nervous, shy, aroused and ready for more. But in the moment now, without needing to act decisively. She reaches out, pulling Yuuna towards her, her mind wandering as other desires start to release themselves.

Bending Yuuna forward to push her into those soft sheets, that cozy bed of Flavia's. The same feeling that bubbled when she forcefully handled Yuuna, it's growing again. That need to hold some control, the same that forced her to pin Miku.

A hand against Yuuna's back, the other gently touching that tail as slowly Flavia pushes herself back inside them. "You're my bunny tonight.."

"My Bunny...." Her mind's running wild with thoughts, with names she wants to whisper out. People who never escaped her mind after getting so close. And the way Yuuna seems, Flavia can't help it. Just as they all say someone else's name, the name of the last girl she had an inch of control over in a heated moment. Someone else's name that isn't Ame, anyone else's name.

She makes the same mistake. "Miku...." Whispered so meekly before rolling her hips forward, picking up the pace that surely Yuuna doesn't mind.

As desperate as she was, Yuuna couldn't focus on reaching a single orgasm while pleasing herself with her fingers. It almost felt like her body was edging instead, only fueling her frustration with herself even if she introduced up to four fingers inside.

The other hand? At all times over her mouth, at least until she was picked up again to be carried; fingers outside her pussy and both hands quick to rest on Flavia's shoulders when that happened.

Internally, she was kinda sorry for putting her soaked fingers on Flavia's clothes, but on the other, her body was pressing against the girl's.

Jesus fuck, it's been quite a while since she got THIS desperate to find continued release…could she blame Jeanne for it? Somewhat of a withdrawal after that session? The day she very much gifted her soul and not because she wanted to…

"B-Belle-sama-…" That name again, while her face buried against the other's neck and she closed her eyes tight, not even questioning whatever Flavia wanted to do, and clinging tighter so she wouldn't fall despite noticing the other's legs wanting to give up.

All in all…with Yuuna herself having that encounter with Jeanne, she probably wouldn't have questioned these magic cards. To her, Flavia was proving to be a box full of surprises in a positive way, so the moment the bunny girl noticed that their location changed, she couldn't help but open her eyes out of curiosity- these only going wide open at the initial surprise.

But seeing a room, a private one, with a bed, had the singer letting out a deep and heated sigh of relief.

They could do whatever here until they both were satisfied, right?…with no interruptions, risks of being caught or getting in trouble with the authorities.

In fact, as soon as Yuuna made sure they were inside, the bunny girl leaned back slightly and let Flavia's shoulders go, hesitating not to pick her hoodie and remove it by her head so she could toss it aside.

With the air finally reaching her heated skin, she would groan softly and let her rabbit ears perk up, feeling as her tail also vibrated slightly now that it was freed.

"P-Please…help me, F-Flavia-san-…" Her voice, seductive but also an almost desperate plea to find a kind of release that, deep inside, she knew wouldn't be able to reach tonight. Yet, attending that need was way better and less torturous than trying to ignore or hold it back.

Would keep going until her body was so sore that she couldn't move.

"L-Let me be your little bunny tonight…p-please…"

[enchantedsword]

i read to many wukong somehow ends up human/mostly human the same way mk does, deaged/amnesia and sick wukong fics and now i want to make one thats a mix of all three, i dont have much but i do have a little.

basically wukong caught the nine headed demon trying to wake and take mk, he tried to stop him but the resulting fight ended in wukongs powers and memories being sealed and regressed in age, the nine headed demon leaves them both in the city, where the eventually are found by pigsy and tang(who are married), wukongs is the same age as mk so its assumed they are half demon twins, since mk looks pretty much fully human, while wukong still has his tail and his peach shaped face mark.

as for the sick wukong part of this, i was thinking since his powers are sealed, i think his immortality is also sealed(i dont know how just pretend it makes sense), a lot of his past injuries have reared up and cause a lot of health problems, the furnace resulting in eye problems making him need glasses, along with lung problems, immune system problems caused buy 500 years under a mountain and being fed molten copper, plus the malnutrition, and highly intense migraines caused by of the circlet

they find out about these medical issues shortly after pigsy and tang takes them both in, it caused a bit of trauma for everyone, and a long string of doctor and hospital visits, never really getting a clear diagnosis, but always being told not to expect a long life for him. wukong grows up with a lot of love and support, but he does have a lot of guilt and self conscience issues about being a burden medically and financially. they also found out early on that his body cant handle hot foods or meats. pigsy and sandy make up for their fight a lot sooner then in canon due to sandy training service cats, and they have get one for wukong.

what no one realizes is that wukong is on a time limit, if they dont unlock his powers at least then he will eventually die because of his health problems

wukong is still his hyperactive and impulsive self(he is definitely audhd) but he does have a lot of limitations due to his health and hes weak because of it(and the fact his powers are sealed), he is howeververy agile and loves to do parkour when hes actually feeling well enough. hes obviously a lot kinder due to being raised by tang and pigsy and growing up with mk, he is still a little shit and a bit of a prankster, never cruel ones though. a little socially awkward since his constant health problems and resulting doctors and hospital visits caused him to miss out on school a lot growing up, mei and mk being his only friends. they met mei around the time they started school, mei being the only one willing to interact with the sick kid and his overprotective brother. pigsy and tang tend to hover a lot, even tho they do try to give wukong independence and encourage mk to have his own outside of wukong. the twins did grow up loving the stories of journey to the west, mks favorite character the story being wukong obviously, but wukongs favorite ends up being both tripitaka and the six eared macaque, i subscribe to the headcanon the wukong views tripitaka as a parental figure and obviously im a shadowpeach shipper.

at the time of canons start wukong is in the hospital due to a scare from a serious case of pneumonia, hes not released until around the time macaque shows up, and yeah everyone from wukongs past knows who he is or has suspicions on who he is, there are a lot of assumptions ranging from hes pretending to not know anything and "playing human" to something happened and he was reincarnated, all in all it takes a long time for all of them(mk and crew included) to realize that with all his powers and immortalies sealed that he will actually die. i really dont have a plan for how any of these confrontations and meetings would go, but i know its all gonna be angsty as hell. also lots of hurt comfort on all sides.

im not sure if i want to keep his name wukong or something with like xiaoyang or something with yang in it, either way his nickname would be sunny(i know its overdone im sorry i like it), im also throwing my headcanons in that hes trans and uses he/they pronouns. i even have a sort of idea of what he would look like by the start of canon, i love long haired haired wukong, so his hair is about shoulder length or a bit past, his outfit is a yellow hoodie with a macaque emblem on the back(boy has a crush and doesnt hide it) a pink skirt(cause i think that would be his favorite color) black leggings because he moves around a lot, and im not sure if i want to give him shoes or have him refuse to wear them. wukong, mk and mei are all about 19/20 around the start of canon.

i think thats everything, if i remember anything else ill just edit this post here

EDIT: i should probably go to bed but someone reminded me of the name shihou(thank you btw,i forget things easily) and now i have a cute/funny little scenario stuck in my head, we all know pigsy is the one that called mk monkie kid when he was found and adding wukong to that pigsy just names him sunny, tang however being the voice of reason on names gives them the legal names of qi xiaotian and qi shihou, named the baby monkey after the baby monkey cause he couldnt think of anything else and he loves jttw and hey if pigsy can name the more human looking one monkie kid and then he can get away with naming one shihou, they both still go by mk and sunny most of the time tho

[anzuhan]