#you can ask me what anything means and i will answer

[prael]

Day 6: Revenge Or Fate

IOI/Gugudan Sejeong x male reader smut

words: 5,611 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"What's that look for?" you ask with all the whimsy you can muster. "I only said that I bought your favourite popcorn. Why are you staring at me as if I just got down on one knee and proposed?"

"You did say you'd marry me someday," Sejeong jokes. Then she does that thing she always does when she's nervous—tugging at the lobe of her ear.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. I mean when we are both in our sixties. When you have become the crazy cat lady and I the bachelor with a penchant for wine and cigarettes. It's not even close to that time yet."

"Why would you be smoking?" Sejeong wrinkles her nose. She knows you can't stand the smell.

"Because I'll be an ageing bachelor, duh," you answer with a dismissive wave of a hand as you sit by her on the couch. She's got her legs curled up against her chest, the way she always does when it's cold outside. You'd know—she's been sitting like that on your couch every winter since the beginning of time.

She lets out the softest of laughs before it quickly dissipates into silence. She's staring across the room, but not really looking at anything. Her face is painted in melancholy. You know her well enough to know that look, and you hate it. Hate everything it represents. You sigh. The first time you saw her like this was back as teenagers, after the dog she grew up with had been hit by a car. It still hurts your chest.

"You've got that look again," you tell her. "Like there's a million and one things in your mind and none of them particularly good."

"I'm okay. Just tired." Sejeong's smile doesn't quite convince you.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I thought you'd tell me if you wanted me to know, but it's been months since you asked me to come over on a Friday night, so something has happened. I haven't seen this much annoyance behind your eyes since the end of Game Of Thrones. What is it?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed, that's all. I wish you weren't so observant."

"You should be used to it by now."

Sejeong flashes a half-hearted smile and takes hold of your hand as she used to do when you were kids. You feel guilty for the way your stomach flutters.

"I guess we have always known each other better than anyone else," she admits, her hand still clasped around yours. It's warm and familiar. You feel the urge to push away, but how can you? It would give far too much away. She has always had this effect on you—you could never distance yourself from her warmth. "He's an asshole."

"You don't need to tell me twice," you chuckle. Then: "Tell me what happened."

"I think he might be cheating."

The air escapes from you at once. The way Sejeong said it is so casual, almost as if she'd resigned herself to this fate a long time ago. And here you are, trying your best to keep your anger under control, like always. But not for her sake—rather, for yours. You know where your feelings belong, and they have no place in the situation at hand. Not today, and definitely not ever. You take a deep breath and look her square in the eye.

"What did he do?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she laughs nervously. She doesn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders than she already has, because that's who she is, you suppose. But how can she expect you to ignore it when she looks like a sad dog staring into the rain on someone's front porch?

"We're best friends. I want to hear everything," you insist.

"He's been acting differently lately." Sejeong pauses. "Distant. Like there's something he isn't telling me."

"Do you think there might be?" you ask carefully.

"It's always something with work. Or a friend that really needs him. Or a family member or—fuck. I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Sejeong sighs and runs a hand through her hair. There are unshed tears in her eyes. This bastard is making her cry. You want to smash something, preferably his head.

"I don't wanna bother you with this shit," she whispers. She sounds exhausted.

"Don't say that," you retort softly, squeezing her hand in yours. It's clammy. "Don't ever say that again."

She gives a curt nod.

"God knows I've told you enough about my romantic misadventures over the years," you joke. Your chest tightens when Sejeong lets out the tiniest of laughs. Maybe you can still make this right, whatever this is. "Misery loves company."

"You know," she begins, pausing to look at you properly. There is something unreadable in her gaze, something that you've never seen before. It makes you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever is to come. "If there's one person I could choose to be miserable with, it would be you."

For a brief second, you forget that time exists.

"Well, I'm very honoured," you reply eventually. There's another pause where you ponder what to say next. Then, simply, because that seems like the easiest answer: "Do you want me to go beat him up?"

Sejeong laughs and punches you in the arm.

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Yeah, but exceptions must be made sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell what she's thinking. "For me?"

"Yes."

It feels like standing on a cliff. You want nothing more than to jump, to feel freefall in your whole body. The only problem is that you'll most certainly die. The ground below is made of jagged rocks and bad ideas. Yet, here you stand, willing to do anything in the world for the beautiful girl next to you. Even if it means lying broken beyond repair.

Sejeong breaks your trance when she explains, "There's this girl he works with. We had dinner together with some people from their office two weeks ago, and... I don't know. They just seemed off. She kept looking at him. You know that look? The one where they linger on someone just a bit too long."

"So that's what gave it away?"

"Well, that and the rumour. They had a thing before he met me. It's over now, or it was." A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, seemingly irritated at herself. You frown. Sejeong has no reason to be ashamed of being hurt. She should be allowed to shed tears, even buckets full if necessary. You wouldn't judge. "At least that's what he said. He promised me it was over. But... God."

You reach forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her lips tremble, so you quickly move your eyes back up. Staring at her lips is dangerous territory.

"You don't deserve this shit," you say resolutely.

Sejeong chuckles sarcastically. "Then why do I keep ending up here?"

That question stings. Not because it's directed at you—it isn't—but rather because you know the answer. Sejeong has been in this kind of position too many times to count. She attracts guys like honey does flies; every single time, with no exceptions. Only the worst seem to make it past the rest. Sejeong gets caught in their deceitful net time and time again, only to inevitably break her heart after months and months of manipulation disguised as devotion.

"Want my honest answer?"

"Yes."

"I think it's because you're the sort of person that believes the best in everyone. And that is a beautiful trait. I love that you do that. I really do. But sometimes..." you trail off, not quite sure how to continue without sounding accusatory.

"Sometimes I get screwed over," Sejeong finishes. You nod in response. "You're right. I guess it's my fault for trusting too easily."

"No," you shake your head. "It's not your fault. That part is absolutely wonderful. It's just..." You're suddenly hesitant. What if Sejeong takes this the wrong way and shuts you out?

"What?" she probes.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'you can't see the tree for the woods'?"

"Sounds stupid."

"It means you can't see what's right in front of your nose," you explain.

Sejeong stares at you for a long time. You think she understands, but it's impossible to know. It would probably be better that way—if she understood and did nothing about it. You aren't supposed to feel this way about her. How many times haven't you imagined what it would be like if things were different? If circumstances were perfect, if her current guy hadn't appeared out of anywhere and swept her off her feet before you'd even realised what was happening.

But that's just your luck.

"Thank you," Sejeong whispers. "Can we, um, watch something? I don't wanna think about this right now."

You let out an awkward cough. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you remember when you forced me to watch Twilight, and I spent the entirety of the movie complaining about how terrible it was?"

"You still watched all of them with me." A tiny grin appears on her face. Thank God.

"That was truly the highest form of torture," you joke. "I hope you brought something better today. Please don't tell me you downloaded another movie about sparkly vampires."

Sejeong punches your arm. "I'll have you know I am extremely cultured nowadays."

"Yeah? Show me then."

A couple of hours pass and everything feels decidedly normal. You rest against the arm of the couch and Sejeong rests against you. You make jokes at the expense of the film as you always do and she laughs that soft, carefree laugh of hers. The credits roll and Sejeong sits up, stretching her limbs like a cat after a nap. You smile at the familiarity of it all. For a moment it doesn't matter what she has—or hasn't—been crying over.

"I'm tired," she says. She blinks slowly as if to prove it to herself. It's quite endearing, actually.

"Yeah?" you ask nonchalantly.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" Her voice is small, unsure. But why? It's not the first time she has stayed here. This place is practically a second home to her.

"Like you need to ask," you retort lightly as you stand up and look down at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but that's when her phone rings. When she sees his name flashing across the screen, she visibly freezes. Annoyance seeps into you like acid rain. His nerve—to call at such an hour, and expect her to pick up. Sejeong just watches, almost paralyzed, until eventually, she does pick up.

"Hey," is all she says. The reply is much longer. You can't make out the words he's saying but the tone tells you all you need to know.

"I was going to," Sejeong replies tersely. Silence. Then: "I told you already, I went over to—" Pause. She swallows thickly. "You didn't tell me you were going out." A longer stretch of silence, during which his voice gradually increases in volume. Suddenly Sejeong sits bolt upright. Her eyes grow wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Me!?" She shouts. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't—" Another pause. She takes a deep breath. "No. No, that isn't fair. You can't—"

It sounds like he hangs up. Sejeong doesn't move. Her hands are shaking violently.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"I should go home," she murmurs flatly.

"To him? To the guy who's probably just fucked his co-worker?"

Sejeong turns to glare at you, eyes cold as ice. You immediately regret your words.

"I'm sorry," you quickly amend. "That was uncalled for. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. Your heartbeat picks up in a hurry. There's anger in her eyes. Anger that could turn against you so quickly.

"Why what?" you reply defensively.

"Why don't you wanna be with anyone? You've rejected every single person who's tried to get close to you since we were sixteen. There's got to be a reason."

The world grinds to a halt. Time, space, and life itself stop existing for a minute while you consider your options. On the one hand, you could lie; come up with a suitable excuse and maybe she won't push for more. On the other hand, you could simply admit to the truth that's haunted you for years.

You open your mouth. Close it. Fuck.

Sejeong stands up, wading in the silence towards you. You can't help but take a step backwards. In that split second, you're sure she knows—and yet you cannot tell.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Sejeong demands to know.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears. "I don't understand why you're asking me this," you choke out. A part of you wishes you were back there on the cliff. At least then you could've jumped off of your own accord, with a little dignity left intact.

"I need to know," is all Sejeong says. Her gaze is relentless. You hate it. It makes you want to claw your own skin off—and there are truths under there that you plan to take to the grave.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if what I'm going to do next is the right thing."

She stands beside you now. On the edge of that cliff, though it's starting to feel more like you're on the roof of your car. Staring up at the stars on some forgotten summer night. The jump seems more like a flight.

"I have," you admit. Somehow it seems easier than to try and fight whatever force is controlling the both of you. It feels strangely liberating.

"But you won't allow yourself to do anything about it." You know her well enough to discern a question from a statement, no matter how carefully she might try to veil them as the latter.

"It's complicated," you say quietly. She's so close to you now that you can hear the hitch in her breath. Why is she pushing this? "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes flit from yours to your lips, then back again. So quickly. One, two. But you saw it. And your entire body tingles in anticipation. You'll dare move away—not now, not when the leap of faith feels more like a hop.

She doesn't say anything else. One more small step and her body collides with yours. Lips press against lips and suddenly, all thought scatters. Sejeong tangles her fingers through your hair and pulls. A gasp escapes you before you regain control and kiss her properly. It's frantic, rushed. Years of pining bleed out with every touch. You grab her, pull her as close to your body as possible, and lose yourself completely. Something is swelling inside you. A feeling so large and uncontainable that you think your chest is going to explode any second.

It is indescribable.

All of it—the sensation of kissing her, holding her—surpasses description. You're falling from that cliff, but she's holding you, and before you can hit the rocks she's dragging you to the couch and climbing on top of you.

It feels unreal. The entire world disappears as your lips find hers again and again and again. You don't care to question what happens after. This moment is yours, forever branded in your memories, and nothing can take that away from you. Even if it ends here—even if she were to walk away now—it would've been worth it. Completely and irrevocably.

When you finally part to catch your breath, you can't help but stare at her in awe. She's so beautiful. A masterpiece. Your hand moves to her cheek almost automatically. Sejeong lets her head fall against it with a soft sigh.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," you croak.

"Please don't regret this in the morning." Her voice is so quiet, filled with so much pain, that it breaks your heart. Your own fears are secondary.

"I never could," you breathe. Then you lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, savouring every sensation as if it might be the last. By some miracle she responds eagerly, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she holds you steady. You have no idea where this leaves the two of you, but you want her closer—now. You reach around and slide your hands under her thighs, pulling gently upwards. She follows your lead, settling against your lap in a way that makes the situation undeniably real.

As you kiss, her hips start moving back and forth. Soft, shallow movements. Little whimpers escape her throat and fall directly into your mouth. Fuck. She moans—actually moans—into the kiss and a violent shiver travels through your whole body. You break away momentarily to look at her face, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes staring back at you.

"Do that again," you whisper against her lips.

"Make me," she pants.

The next kiss is searing, open-mouthed, and accompanied by Sejeong grinding her hips against you. Harder now. Unrelenting. Your hands travel up her waist, slipping beneath her blouse to feel warm skin underneath. You feel every tremble of her body when your fingernails drag lightly across her flesh. A gasp—then she leans backwards, with her arms outstretched and clinging behind your neck, to look you dead in the eye as she continues moving her hips against you.

"Sejeong... What are we—"

"Shh."

Your hands snake further up her shirt. Her back arches in response as she grinds down hard, moaning loudly. Your eyes flutter shut briefly to enjoy the sensations—the sounds—coming from her. You force them open once more because you can't miss this show for anything. You push the shirt up and over her chest. Her hands slip from behind your neck momentarily so that you can get the garment over her head. And then she is there before you, bra and sweatpants-clad, panting softly and waiting.

"Sejeong—"

"Fuck me." It is barely more than a whimper, but it rattles the very core of your being.

"What?"

She lunges forward and kisses you forcefully. There are tears in her eyes—tears you didn't notice until now. Her desperation bleeds through.

"Please," she whispers into your mouth, her voice breaking slightly. "Please."

You can't deny her. How could you? You're unfastening the clasp of her bra and your hands are everywhere on her. Pulling her closer, exploring every inch of bare skin you can get your hands on. Her fingers start unbuttoning your shirt—clumsily, but getting the job done. Once open, her nails dig into your bare shoulders, as if testing out whether you're really here, tangible and real. As if you could disappear at any moment and leave her stranded. A loud groan escapes her when your fingers brush against her nipples.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you murmur into her ear. She whines at the words, nails digging deeper into your skin.

The friction between your legs is driving you mad. You've got the burning urge to pick her up and slam her into the nearest wall, but you savour what you have. First, you kiss her neck, then it's a trail down her collarbones. Your teeth nibble playfully at the skin until she moans, begging you to do something. You obey, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple before swirling it around the bud. Her fingers fly into your hair and hold you against her breast.

"Holy shit."

Your mouth latches on tighter. Sucking. Biting. The heat pooling between you grows more intense. Eventually, you detach and move on to the next, eliciting more delicious sounds from the girl above you. All those nights spent fantasising about exactly this don't come close to the real experience. You're supporting her, around the waist and the small of her back, while she leans back in your lap, presenting herself to you.

You appreciate every inch of her slender figure. By eye and then by tongue. You draw constellations along her skin, your touch is feather-light. Across her toned stomach to her hips, then right up the side of her body. She throws an arm above her head and giggles lightly as you lick all the way up underneath it. You follow a path to her armpit. Sejeong giggles more when you begin to nibble there too. When you raise your eyes to meet hers she blushes fiercely.

"Weirdo."

"Just appreciating you," you murmur, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck.

"Mm. I like it," she replies hoarsely.

So you spend some time like this. Appreciating her bare body and making her squirm. Kissing, licking, and biting everything that you can possibly reach until her writhing becomes borderline violent. Then she grabs a hold of your jaw, looks you deep in the eyes, and utters the most sinful words you've ever heard her say.

"Enough teasing. I want to ride your cock now."

Every inch of you lights on fire. From your forehead to the tips of your toes, you feel flames lick at your insides. Sejeong climbs off you without another word and starts pushing her sweats from her hips. You watch, spellbound, as she wiggles out of them. Her panties follow suit.

Then she turns to face you. Standing fully nude, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. A goddess. Every bit as perfect as you had imagined. Even your fantasies weren't this good; nowhere near as intoxicating as this moment right now.

"You have ten seconds before I sit on your face instead," she deadpans, you both laugh. At least she hasn't lost her humour.

You unbuckle your belt and shuffle them down as best you can while still seated. Enough that she can reach down and pull your cock free from its confines. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when she wraps her slim fingers around it. Pumping up and down. You're hard already, unbelievably so, and when she drags her thumb across the head of your dick it actually twitches. You suck in a deep breath, willing yourself to focus.

And then she sits on your lap, sliding along the length of your cock. Fuck. She repeats it a few times. Back and forth, slicking your cock with her wetness.

"I always pictured this," she admits.

"Really?" you croak.

"God yeah, I remember back in college. I must have rubbed one out to you more times than I can count." She smirks at you then—a wicked smirk that makes your entire body shiver. A filthy admission to you and you only. She does it again, drags her wetness along you. How on earth are you supposed to remain composed when she says things like that and does things like this? You wrap an arm around her back and pull her closer, staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"You can't say things like that, I'm gonna—"

She cuts you off with her tongue in your mouth. Kissing you like it's the last thing she'll ever do, and your lips the only form of sustenance she'll ever need. It gives way to her frantic little moan, desperate and unrestrained. For the life of you you can't comprehend what is happening, only react, and fuck if it isn't the most incredible experience you've ever had. Her skin is burning against yours, hungry and yielding to your every touch.

Sejeong shifts slightly and grabs a hold of you properly. Your eyes widen when the tip of your dick brushes against something wet, warm, and soft. The very centre of her. She repositions herself, now holding you carefully against her, and then... slides down the length of your cock, pausing halfway down. The pleasure is so acute that you cannot control the way your back arches off the couch, and neither do you control the profanities that spill out from your lips.

A sinful grin spreads across her face. As her legs are pinned around your waist, you cannot move, but Sejeong certainly can. And boy, does she know how. She starts bouncing herself up and down, riding you so expertly and looking so good doing it. You've thought of this so many times—having sex with your best friend, of all people—but you did not picture it like this.

"This okay?" she murmurs in your ear. You hear the smile in her voice.

You utter the only word you can muster: "Yes."

She laughs airily, placing a kiss on your temple as she continues her rhythm. When she moans—a long, drawn-out moan, half-pained, half-pleasured—and throws her head back, you stare up at her, eyes drinking in the beauty that is in a position so incredibly vulnerable yet completely in control. How you long to capture this moment and keep it somewhere safe forever. She looks down at you now. Her heavy-lidded eyes pin you to your spot as much as the physical manifestation of her pinned against your skin. She traces her fingers down your jaw, your neck, and the top of your chest.

"I wish he could see me now," Sejeong hisses, anguish evident in her voice.

"You look so fucking good."

"He doesn't know what he had," she laughs bitterly. "Fuck him."

"Fuck him," you echo. Sejeong smirks and moves her hips more fluidly. Goddamn. Her tight little cunt feels so perfect clenched around your cock.

She watches your face closely as she keeps riding you. As you keep clutching her hips and help her along, grinding deeper. Groaning when she throws her hips forward faster and faster. Her cunt is so hot and tight. She sucks at the life seeping out of your pulsating cock and squeezes it with her inner muscles in ways that no one has ever done before. Sometimes she pulls completely off you, her breath shuddering as you twitch, only to take you deep inside her again.

Your hands have a mind of their own, sneaking upwards to grip her neck. You give it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get her attention. All the while you're staring intensely into her eyes. They've become glassy, intoxicated, more than just wanting but longing for it. Her voice is hoarse, strained, as she says, "How have I been so stupid? All this time—you're right here, and I never—"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"You're so—fuck."

Her body trembles and she falls forward onto you. She's gripping your arms, nails sinking into your flesh. Sejeong's breath grows increasingly laboured. After a long string of expletives, she lets her head rest on your shoulder as you snake an arm around her back and support her. Her whole body is rigid, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

"Never felt this good," she forces the words out amid moans as you buck your hips up into her, picking up the slack as she begins to falter. The rhythm is quick now, urgent, filled with unbridled passion and everything left unspoken for too long.

When Sejeong cums, you feel it all around you—her pussy quivering, leaking her arousal around you, dripping down your thighs and saturating you, almost drowning in the intensity. It makes her moan into the crook of your neck and rock her hips, fucking herself while trying desperately to quiet the sounds of her ecstasy against your body. But that is unthinkable, to silence someone like that, and you tell her so. Whispering the filthiest things in her ear as she throbs around your cock, dragging out the last tremors of pleasure of her orgasm as much as you possibly can. She spills everything out into your shoulder, every word, every whimper. Until at last, you can feel her sagging in your lap, breathing heavily and spent.

"Keep going," she pants, tightening her grip on your arm. "Don't stop."

She throws herself to the side, pulling you with her, and somehow lands flat on her back with your body on top of her. You wince at the sudden shift. But not for long. Because Sejeong opens her legs wide, hooks her calves around your hips, and tells you again not to stop.

You smirk and lean forward, trapping her beneath your body and capturing her lips in a sensual kiss. It is deliberate, lingering. Her arms fly up and tangle themselves through your hair, locking you together. When your tongues meet, you sigh deeply against her. There is a warmth settling over you. Languid, dream-like. Like you're both floating through clouds, carried away by the sweetest of breezes.

There is nowhere else in the world that you would rather be than right here, between her legs.

You rock into her, once, then twice, each time more intense than the last. The angle is entirely different. You grab a hold of one of her legs and hitch it up a bit, allowing yourself to thrust deeper inside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm. Move slower. Nice and slow," she instructs.

And you do. Eventually, a hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck. Sejeong stares into your eyes and your breath catches. Then you're kissing, again and again, but there is not so much desperation and anger anymore, but something else. It is the feel of her hips meeting yours, the way you press your bodies together, the softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Her breaths rush from her lips to yours, from hers into you.

Sweat starts to bead at your temples as you rock into her. Slow, deep, patient strokes. It is not desperate fucking anymore, or an attempt to pour all of your heartbreak into some meaningless action. It's almost reverential—the way you're holding each other, soft and sure. A sweet torture, a sublime suffering, for as long as time allows.

You don't talk. Your mouths say nothing, at least. With your bodies, however, your fingertips whisper praise against her skin. Spirits float free and serenade each other. Sounds escape her that you haven't even dreamed of. Broken, wanton, as if wrenched out of her. They rise above and meet in a higher plane of reality, where two minds are one.

It takes time. A slow build to the crescendo. You know when you've struck the final note by the way she cries out, over and over again, her pretty little hole convulsing, spasming around your cock. She wants to squirm away but has nowhere to go. You refuse to let her. You smile against her neck and sink your teeth into the skin there.

Soon you follow, groaning her name into the warm flesh. It's a flood—your insides are melting, pouring out from your loins and into her heat, her insides contracting, trapping every ounce inside. Hot, sticky, yours. This feeling. It is as if your heart has grown wings, a phoenix born anew from the ashes of who you used to be. You don't have to be lost anymore. She will carry you, always, her fingernails tracing patterns in your damp skin. There is nothing to fear.

Sejeong whines and moans softly as you fill her. One more careful thrust and you still, collapsing on top of her as the waves subside. All the while she is there, stroking the back of your neck and quietly reciting every piece of filth that she can think of.

You wonder whether this will last longer than the night.

God. Would you be okay with that?

When you eventually move back to look at her, to make sure she's okay, there are tears in her eyes. Uncertainty overwhelms you. Before you can react, before you can ask what is wrong, Sejeong cups your cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. This girl. All these years. All the wasted time. It feels right being with her; everything is finally where it should have been all along.

"You were worth the wait," you breathe. You place a kiss against her brow before rolling off and settling next to her.

"Do you..." Her voice fades. She runs a finger along your collarbone, eyes anywhere but yours. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?

"No," you answer without hesitation. You catch her hand in yours, entangling your fingers, willing her to understand everything that you're unable to tell her.

Sejeong smiles. Genuine, unapologetic. For the first time in months, she looks happy. Fuck him, indeed. "Good," she says with a soft laugh that evaporates any of her lingering doubts. Her eyes flick to your lips and she whispers, "So, uh, we've got some lost time to make up for."

"Yeah?" you whisper while rolling her back over and climbing over her. "If there's a debt to be paid..." You start trailing kisses down her neck, down her sternum, grinning at the tiny shivers it elicits. "What better time than now?"

Your kisses lead you over her toned stomach. Once you reach the juncture between her thighs, you pick up her leg and set it over your shoulder. Sejeong is already squirming, anticipating what is to come. You take a look at her—mussed hair and flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, beautiful, tempting. It feels almost gratuitous—that you're able to see her like this. It makes you pull her even closer, and stick your tongue into her center. Her upper body lifts almost immediately and her eyes fly open. A shaky whimper leaves her lips.

She's right. There is a lot of catching up to do. Luckily for her, there's still the whole night ahead of you and a lot more you'd like to show her.

[tazcrosblade]

I don't really know how to post this without sounding like a boot licker for the artificial intelligence, but here's my take on it. AI isn't going to really do anything for you that you couldn't do yourself. It doesn't have any access to information on the internet, in books, or in self-help books, that you couldn't also get access to. So in a way

number one: the AI provides a way to search and consolidate information that has become increasingly hard to do (try googling anything these days and all you get is AI generated results anyways).

Number 2: the ai, the internet, even Tumblr are just tools that you could use to find answers. Obviously if you're in a Mental Health situation, using AI rather than seeking professional help can be dangerous. Treating it like the be all end all of answers, especially for things like health or mental health, is so naive as to border on st*pid.

Number 3: you only get out of the AI what you put in, if you ask it for help it's just going to give you generic answers. But if you know how to use the AI as a tool, it can be useful.

Basically what I'm saying is telling the ai you are my therapist solve all my problems will only get you so far. But if you've ever tried, for example, taking all of the texts from a fight you're having with someone and plugging them into the AI and asking it to continue the conversation and give you different ways things could have been phrased or to summarize the issues into bullet points so you can more specifically focus on what's going on. Couples therapy in effect. I have found the AI to be extremely helpful as a neutral third party during conflict, almost like a mediator or a counselor. Sometimes phrasing your thoughts or breaking down what a person's telling you can be extremely difficult. The AIS we use are not general artificial intelligence they are large language models, the only thing they can do is talk and analyze text. Don't expect the AI to work like a therapist would work. Use it as a tool for, analyzing journal entries, breaking down a big long message someone has sent you into more manageable bites so you don't get overwhelmed by your personal emotional attachment to what's being said.

When my partner and I are having conflict I will often complain to the ai, and tell it to be brutally honest with me. It sometimes tells me the things that my partner is too shy to tell me, or I'm too self-centered to think for myself. And because it's coming from a computer, it's easier to take it for what it is which is just a single take on the situation.

Will the AI cure your depression? No.

Will the AI give you the same tips everyone gives you? Yes, literally that's what it's designed for

If you know how to use the AI to analyze a situation or generate a bunch of ideas, if you use the AI and prompt it to tell you the hard truth or to be critical of someone's actions or to give an explanation for why somebody might have done something, it can be a good tool to help guide some of your thoughts and mental exploration of a situation.

AI is not a therapist. It is not trained. Any information it gives is suspect.

But that doesn't mean as a data analysis tool, a stand-in for the person you're having an argument for, or a straw man to help run potential arguments past (while telling it to be rude short or selfish in its responses) can be a good therapy style tool for people who may not be able to afford professional help, but feel as though they need assistance in unpacking their own thoughts or phrasing things in a certain way or understanding something somebody is telling them.

guys. please

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part one]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: a very sweet story of paige and azzi from best friends to lovers 🥰

a/n: lowkey came up with this on a whim bc yall know how much i love angsty pazzi…probably gonna make this into a short series so lmk if you all want another part :)

word count: 1.4k

masterlist

“Ella said she’s worried about you.”

As Paige hovers over her, propped up by a pillow on one side, Azzi thinks that Ella might not have been as dumb as she’d thought. Here she is, with her best friend, in only a sports bra and sweats so low that they’re barely clinging onto her hips. The best friend in question is leaning on her elbow, one hand splayed across Azzi’s bare abdomen, a smirk on her face as soft strands of blonde hair tickle the younger girl’s face.

Azzi slots her leg in between Paige’s, drawing her impossibly closer. “Why would she ever say that?” She asks teasingly, the corner of her lips tugging up.

Paige’s smirk grows dangerous. Her eyes drag down Azzi’s body, doing a slow perusal of Azzi’s chest. “This doesn’t look close to you?”

Azzi tilts her head, batting her big brown eyes under her full eyelashes. “Who cares? I mean, it’s not like you two are dating or anything.” But knowing Paige’s tendency to hide sensitive topics from her until the last moment, her tone drops. “Are you?”

“No.” Paige laughs. “Just fucking around.” Her hands slide lower down Azzi’s stomach, until her thumb is caressing the dip of her V-line.

Azzi holds her breath, trying to ignore the fire uncurling in her stomach. “Does it mean anything to you?”

“I don’t know.” Paige withdraws her hand, replacing it with her head as she settles on Azzi’s chest with a sigh. The action is so casual, so familiar that it makes Azzi’s heart hurt. Sex with Paige is one thing. Intimacy like this, where she can feel her bare skin against Paige’s, feel Paige’s heartbeat, as they lie together, legs intertwined and breaths in sync? That’s a whole other ballpark.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Paige admits, her voice slightly muffled as she speaks into Azzi’s chest. “She confuses me.”

Azzi almost scoffs out loud at the irony. Paige hs always been hot and cold, flirting with Azzi one moment and giving her a look that Azzi swears is only reserved for her, but chatting it up with another girl at the bar the next. It feels like a constant back and forth with her best friend. Sometimes it feels like Paige has her heart on a pendulum, has been since she was 16, yet lately it’s felt like it’s been ricocheting out of control, the string slowly turning into a thread.

“I think she thinks I’m in love with you or some shit.” Paige has been yapping for the last few minutes as Azzi’s lost herself in her thoughts, but it’s this sentence, thrown out so callously, that freezes her blood. “Which is, like ridiculous, you know?”

Azzi struggles to catch her next breath. But Paige has turned her head and is looking at her now, expecting her to say something, so she forces out a dry laugh. “Yeah,” she mutters. Clearing her throat, she forces herself to steady her voice. “No yeah, that’s crazy.” Azzi is confident - she knows she’s drop dead gorgeous, knows she could mess around with as many guys or girls as she’d want. And she knows full well the effect she has on Paige, how the older girl always goes speechless whenever she’s in that pink lingerie set, unable to keep her hands off her ass even when she’s covered head to toe in an unflattering sweat suit. Yet something about her has never been good enough for Paige, for her to want to call Azzi hers.

Seemingly pleased with her answer, Paige plops back down. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” she says decisively.

Azzi lies there for a second before checking her phone. The only notification she has is from PT. She needs to come earlier than usual tomorrow for another progress test. Azzi swallows. “It’s getting pretty late,” she says.

“What?” Paige checks her own phone. “It’s only ten.”

“I know, but it’s been a long day. My knee hurts.”

Paige’s bright blue eyes round in concern as she quickly gets off her best friend, scrambling to sit criss cross on the bed. “Was I hurting it? Lying on you? Shit, Az, you should’ve told me.”

“No,” Azzi waves her best friend off. “It’s just throbbing. I think I just need to take some meds and sleep.”

Paige frowns. “Okay.” She pads out of the room, returning a few moments later with a bag of frozen peas and Azzi’s pink Stanley. “Here. And I moved the Advil to the top drawer of your bedside table right there.”

“Thank you.”

Paige falters. Usually Azzi asks her to stay, to scratch her back until she falls asleep or just hold her as she grits through the pain. “Do you need anything else?”

Azzi doesn’t even look at her. Sliding on her headphones, she shakes her head.

“Okay.” Azzi ignores the hurt and confusion in Paige’s voice. The blonde wears her heart on her sleeve. “Night.”

“See you.”

Paige turns off the lights and shuts the door, and Azzi feels the darkness like never before.

••

8:15 pm, January 8 2024

P: yooo

P: we talked for like hours and i think we’re going somewhere

P: i think im gonna ask her to be my gf

A: oh shit Paige

A: that’s great

A: happy for you 💗

P: i’ll be over in 20 min

P: have you eaten? i had dinner w ella but i can pick up some food for you if you’re hungry?

A: can’t do movie night tonight P

A: knee’s hurting

A: next week?

P: oh okay

P: i hope it feels better

P: don’t forget to use your compression sleeve

P: i doordashed you some food from chikfila, lmk if you want anything else

A: thanks paige

5:27 am, January 14 2024

A: hey where are you?

5:32 am

A: we gotta leave soon or i’ll be late

5:40 am

A: Paige???

Missed call from Azzi💗

Missed call from Azzi💗

A: nvm i’ll just take an uber

8:15 am

P: shit Azzi

P: i’m so sorry

P: i told aubrey to tell you that i couldn’t take you to rehab but she must’ve forgotten

P: i should’ve just texted you

A: it’s good

A: where you at?

P: impromptu trip to nyc

P: ella wanted to go to the knicks game

A: nice

A: hope you had fun

P: how was rehab?

P: any updates?

1 pm

P: dude look

Attachment: 1 Image

P: reminds me of belarus

P: i remember you were so fucking wasted lmfaoo

5:45 pm

P: are you ghosting me now

P: jk

P: but fr

P: you good??

6:45 pm

A: sorry still at pt

A: there’s an issue with the healing in my tissue or something they said

P: i’ll be there to take you to your next appointment i swear

A: actually i was thinking

A: it’s probably better if i just take an uber from now on

A: it’s a four hour round trip and you’re stuck waiting for me during the appointment too

P: it’s not an inconvenience

P: i like talking to your doctors

P: janelle was just getting to the part where she broke up with her bf

A: paige

A: i overheard ella complaining about it the other day

A: you’re getting up at 5 am every saturday to spend 7 hrs with your ex fwb

A: it’s not fair to either of you guys to take up your time like that

P: well when you word it like that ..

P: but you’re still my best friend

P. and ubers are expensive as hell

P: you’re seriously not gonna let me take you?

A: you’re gonna be thanking me once you realize how nice it is to sleep in on saturdays

P: i like spending time with you more than sleeping

Read 6:58 pm

9:40 pm, January 23 2024

P: hey sorry i meant to stop by yours before ted’s but ella needed to change

P: we’re in the back near the pool tables

9:55 pm

P: you’re coming right?

10:40 pm

A: don’t feel too good

A: i’ll just stay in and watch a movie or smthn

A: go have fun

P: bro

P: don’t be boring

P: u haven’t gone out with us in so long

P: i never even see u anymore

A: you can’t be serious rn

A: drinking with everyone after another win i couldn’t even contribute to is the last fucking thing i wanna do tonight

A: i thought you of all people would understand

A: but apparently not

P: I’m sorry

P: I didn’t mean to say that

5 minutes later

P: I miss you

P: Can I come over right now?

A: it’s fine

A: didn’t mean to snap im just tired

A: you’re with your gf and the team you deserve to celebrate

A: you did great tonight i’m proud of you

A: don’t worry ab me

P: i always worry about you

Read 11 pm

12:40 am

P: dude idk what the fuck happened but you’re so weird all the time now

P: do you hate me

P: am i stupid

P: jk

P: think i took too many shots

P: was tryna keep up with nika

P: i miss youuuuuuu

P: so much

P: i wish you’d let me come over

P: don’t tell ella but i kinda miss how things used to be

P: when we were just fucking around

P: now she’s so uptight ab me and you

P: but it’s whatever

P: shit i’m sorry az

P: i was hella drunk last night lmfao

P: ignore everything i said

Read 11 am

[kissyrafe]

sex with rafe but you're taunting him as a trick for him to get more aggressive w it

cw: smut, fem!reader, rough sex, teasing/taunting, jealousy sex, unprotected p in v sex, friends w/ benefits, mirror sex, i think i'm in love with over-the-counter sex, (not proofread!!!)

"i don't know what game you're tryna play right now-" rafe sounded pissed off as he dragged you by your arm into the bathroom. "but cut it out." he stared at you as you leaned against the marble counter, back pressing into the cold stone. he pierced through you with just a look, enough to make your knees weak.

"what game? i don't know what you're talking about." you smiled impishly, playing with the hem of your jean mini skirt. the truth was, you were oh so loving 'the game'. you saw how rafe stared at you the whole night as you flirted with another guy in the group. touching his arms and chest, leaning against him, everything. it was all to get a rise out of rafe, knowing he doesn't like it when you're around other guys; as if it mattered.

to clear it up, rafe and you are not together by any means. from the start of this "relationship", it was apparent that both of you were only looking to relieve yourselves sexually. there were to be no emotional connections. but still, you both can't help but feel slightly jealous when the other one is with someone else.

"cut the bullshit." rafe stepped closer to you, now peering down at your figure. "don't think i didn't see you basically throwing yourself at him." he scoffed, biting the inside of his cheek from frustration. rafe hated seeing you treat other guys the way he wanted only you to treat him. but obviously, he couldn't just come out and say it, that would mean you had something over him, which he hated even more; feeling weak.

"like i said," you adjusted yourself on the counter and stood on your toes, your mouth now leveled with rafe's ear, "i don't know what you're talking about," you whispered softly. rafe let out a small laugh, his voice velvety smooth. his large arms traveled to either side of you, making sure you went nowhere.

the tension and silence were so, very, hot. neither of you said anything as you stared into each other's eyes. this was a battle. swallowing the clump in your throat, you felt rafe's hand travel down under your skirt and to the plush skin of your thigh, inching closer to your core. "do you think he can satisfy you like i do?" he asked smugly, feeling the soaked fabric of your panties.

"oh rafe," you sigh, a smile creeping onto your face "i know he can make me feel so much better than you do."

"wanna make that bet?"

your weak hands gripped the edge of the counter as rafe pounded into you from behind. small moans escaped your mouth and filled the room, along with the sound of light skin slapping. "do you still think he fucks better than me?" rafe demanded, knowing the answer already. but what he forgot was that you can be more stubborn than him.

you nod your head, looking at rafe through the mirror as he frowns. "s-s'. much. b-better." you stutter out as you feel rafe going faster, your eyes shutting. he scoffed, sensing your bluff. his calloused hand came to your neck, squeezing around you tighter with every thrust into your sweet cunt.

"just admit it, y'know you want ta." he smirked, seeing how fucked out you were already. it never took long to make you release and succumb. rafe knew for a fact you'd never find anyone better than him, or at least anyone better at fucking you than him. maybe it was the way you would squirm as he entered you, or your sweet, delicate, moans and whimpers that flowed out your mouth like symphonies.

your walls wrapped around rafe's dick, lewd noises appearing with every push he made into you. at this point you could barely even hold yourself up. he made your whole body weak as you were fucked senseless by him.

it drove rafe mad how you successfully made him jealous, how you had a hold on him. i mean really, the kook king was jealous of some lowly guy who didn't know jack shit about you or the secret places on your body that would make you limp. he knew it was a mistake to just treat you like a fling because he wanted you to just be his.

"you can fuck, but you can't make a girl feel good," you choked out, knowing how to push his buttons. "is that so?" rafe merely took that as a sign to slow down his thrusts, but he only went in deeper. you could practically feel his cock bulging into your stomach from how far he went. your mouth hung open as you moaned, eyes swelling with tears from pleasure. you felt it to your core. "i'm the only one that can make this pussy feel good, yeah?"

you felt your orgasm build from rafe's low thrusts as he hurried his pace again, his orgasm approaching too. "r-rafe, i-i..." you fell incoherent and unable to form any real thoughts. "sweet thing is 'boutta cum all over m' cock," rafe was amused seeing you like this, so raw and flushed from pleasure. "c'mon, show me how this dick feels, tell me." with his hand still around your neck, he made you look at him again through the mirror. "d'ya see how you look? all 'cause of me?"

"c-cumming, rafe! pleaseplease!" you felt your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came undone all over rafe's cock, much to his enjoyment. you felt his thrusts stutter as his seed poured into you, making your body surge with pleasure and warmth.

rafe slowly pulled out of you, making you feel so... empty. he turned you around to face him as he tried catching his breath. you looked at him with tired eyes when his hand went up to your face, holding one of your cheeks softly. "don't ever use a guy to make me fuck you again, or i won't go gentle. alright?"

[hahaifolded]

Good... Really? - Simon "Ghost" Riley x POC!GN Reader Drabble Part 2

Part 1 - You go on a really bad date with Ghost (Angst) Author’s Note: I don’t know if y’all will find this funny but I did. Let me know if you want a part 3. This was really just for shits and giggles…

“Lieutenant, we need to talk?”

Soap knew Ghost wasn’t the best with people but he didn’t think he was this bad. Now with a clueless Simon in front of him, Johnny takes a deep breath.

“You know that date you went on?”

“With my future spouse? Yes.” Johnny nearly busts out laughing with that. There is not a single thought behind those eyes.

The Scottsman just takes a deep breath. “And it went well, right?” Ghost’s eyes crinkle as he happily nods his head.

“And do you mind telling me how?”

Simon looks up, almost reminiscing that “perfect” date.

“Well, I did exactly what you said.” And with that, Ghost goes through Soap’s advice.

“Don’t talk about work.” Yeah but that didn’t mean to ban it all together when they brought it up.

“Don’t say anything stupid.” By not talking to them…

“Make sure they feel comfortable to eat whatever they want.” Well that comment was not comforting AT ALL.

“If you can’t think of anything to talk about, talk about the weather or something.” Emphasis on SOMETHING.

“Speak honestly.” Way too honest there buddy.

Damn, and people think Soap is the dumb one.

“And Lieutenant, you don’t think there’s a chance that… I don’t know… that date didn’t go as well as you think it did?” Johnny could see the neurons trying to fire in Ghost’s head at that. But unfortunately due to the lack of activity in that head of his, they come back with nothing.

As Ghost shakes his head, Soap was at a lost. Did he not think yelling when you lightly touched him was not bad? How has Ghost made it this far?

“Lieutenant, I hate to tell you this but,” and with that, Johnny bursts the poor man’s bubble. The more he explained Ghost’s pitfalls, the more he saw the big guy deflate. This was supposed to be funny but as the light in his Lieutenant eye’s dimmed, Soap couldn’t find any humor in this (right now).

Once Soap finishes, the two sit in silence for a bit. Johnny patts Ghost’s back, trying to soothe Lt’s broken heart. This is just sad. While Soap tries to find the right words to comfort the heartbroken man, Ghost shoos his hand away and stares at the Scotsman. Before Johnny can say anything, Ghost swings.

“Woah woah woah, what the fuck,” cries Soap. He stands up, arms out, trying to maintain some distance between him and Ghost.

Ghost remains seated, eyes locked on Johnny. He points a finger at him and asks, “how are you going to fix this?”

“ME! FIX THIS? WHAT THE FUCK?” Soap yells. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“Well, this is your fault. I followed your advice.”

“NO YOU DIDNT!” Soap spins and scans the room. There had to be a camera recording this. “Ghost, I don’t know how but you literally did and DID NOT follow my advice at the same time.”

Thankfully, instead of attacking Soap again, Ghost slumps down in his seat. “How do I fix this?”

Johnny freezes. He’s never heard his Lieutenant so broken before. Damn, this man is in love. He slumps in the seat next to him.

Johnny genuinely didn’t know what to say. That date was bad. And you’re not going to take “nerves” as an answer. You respect yourself too much for such a shit answer. “Honestly I should have just let you be yourself. There’s no way you could have fucked up as bad as you did here,” the sergeant admits mindlessly.

Before Soap could think more on the matter, Ghost shoots up from his seat and practically sprints out the door. Johnny lurches forward before slumping back down.

John MacTavish was done playing cupid.

Word Count: 623

Thanks for reading! — Folded’s Page Guide + Masterlist

[inlovewrafe]

I still love you, I promise

pairings: ex!lovers; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia;

warnings: angst; sickness; ed; pregnancy;

"Do you need to sit down?” You hear a muffled voice as you feel your feet beginning to give up on you. "What- What do you mean I'm pregnant?” You ask with a shaky voice. You had a feeling that you were but now that your suspicions are confirmed, and you hear it out loud, you can't believe it. Don't want to believe it. You are denying it. "No, I can't-“ You choke on your words, trying to make sense of what you were going to do. You feel a sharp pain in your heart as you realize. He isn't here. He isn't yours. He is hers.

You realize you will have to raise the baby alone. His baby. You were forever going to have a reminder of him. Every time you'll look at the baby, all you'll see is him.

"What if I don't want the baby? Can't I do anything about it?" You blurt out without even thinking. But as soon as the words leave your mouth you regret ever saying them. “I'm afraid you can't. You are already three months and a half in. Your boy is developing.” You freeze in your spot. "What do you mean boy?” “You are having a baby boy, congratulations!” She gives you a warm smile but you feel your stomach drop. A boy. You were having a boy. 'What will Rafe say when he finds out? Should I tell him?' You were deep in your thoughts when you heard the doctor talk to you again. “That'll be all. We'll schedule an appointment to check on him but we'll do that later on the phone.” “Thank you.”

You made your way towards your car as you stood frozen in your seat. You'll be all alone, raising your baby, while he plays happy couple with Sofia. You took a shaky breath as you pulled out of the parking lot, driving to your house.

When you got there you quickly made your way inside, seeing all of them displayed on the couch. The sound of the door closing made them all look towards where you stood. “Where have you been? Do you know how concerned we were?” Topper yells as he is quick to stand up from the couch. “I know, I'm sorry.” You mumble while fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. Sarah and Rafe spare a concerned glance to each other before they turn their attention back to you. “Sarah I need to talk to you. It's important." You say still fidgeting with the rings. "Yeah, 'course” She replies as she starts walking out of the room, following you.

“What happened? Are you okay?” But you don’t answer, instead you pull her in a hug as she remains confused but squeezes you hard as she reciprocates the hug. “I need to tell you something but you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone, especially not Rafe.” “I promise! What is it?” You take a shaky breath as you say the words out loud. “I’m- I’m pregnant.” You wipe away a single tear that escaped your eye. “WHAT?” She looked at you shocked and excited at the same time. “Shhh” You hush her because you don’t want the boys to find out. “I’m sorry. Is it Rafes?” She asks just to make sure. “Of course, who else’s would it be?” She nodded her head with an obvious expression on her face. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I don’t know what to do, I don’t- He isn’t even- How will I raise-“ You mutter between choked sobs as you panic. “Shh, shh, it’s okay, I’m here for you. You’ll be fine.” She tries to reassure you, but you can’t calm down. You sob into your hands as she pulls you in a hug. “It’s okay, let’s just eat something and we’ll sleep, yeah? We can deal with it tomorrow, okay?” She mumbles as she gives you gentle strokes on your back.

“Okay.” You let out a quiet response as you wipe around your eyes. “Do you want to order something? The boys already ordered when you were out. Or we can make something ourselves.” She gives you a light smile as you plop down on one of the chairs. “We can make some pasta if you want to.” You played with the necklace around your neck. “Yeah, sure, whatever you want.” She smiles as she puts a pot with water on the stove. You get up and take another pot where you can make the sauce in. You pour the sauce in the pan and add some seasonings to it.

After some time, the pasta is ready and you plate it. “Wow, this looks delicious! Ask the boys if they want some, while I wash the dishes, please!” You exit the kitchen and made your way towards the living room where you see the boys caught up in a game.

You clear your throat and all three heads snap towards you. “We made pasta. Want some?”

“Did you poison it, or why are you asking?” Topper raised a brow while snorting.

“No, but I’ll make sure to poison it next time, just for you.” You gave him a wink as you waited for an answer.

“Yeah, sure we’ll have some!”

“Come on then!”

You start walking to the kitchen with Top and Kelce in front of you and Rafe behind. You feel a hand on your wrist starting to pull you back.

“Why were you at the hospital?” He asks still holding your hand.

“I-“ You suddenly felt out of breath at the touch on your arm. You stare at his hand and back up at him, and he quickly lets go of you as if your touch was fire.

“Just had to check something.” You murmured, missing his soft hand on yours.

“Check what?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to look for an answer, but couldn’t come up with anything.

He was still staring at you, waiting for a response.

“What’s going on here?” You hear Sarah’s voice interrupt the silence between you and him.

“Uh, nothing. We were just talking.”

“Okay, come eat! You haven’t eaten anything today! Come on!” She grabbed your hand, leading you to the kitchen where you saw Top and Kelce on their second plate already.

“Oh come on! Leave some for the rest of us.” You laughed as you sat on a chair next to Sarah.

You ate half of the food on your plate when Kelce got up to go and plate a third portion.

“Kelce, chill out man! Do they keep you starved?” Everyone laughed as he sat down with his plate.

“You are the best chef ever! I might come over every day if you are cooking.” He laughed.

After you all finished eating, Rafes phone was buzzing with a few texts from next to you.

He was putting the dishes in the dishwasher with Topper so you though it won’t hurt anyone to sneak a quick glance.

As you glance at the texts with pit in your stomach you start feeling sick. The smile from your previous jokes was replaced by a sad expression as you remained quiet, taking out your phone to scroll on instagram. When you noticed the boys finished with the dishes, and he was walking towards you, you got up from your seat to retreat to your room. You repeat the texts from her over and over in your head with a heavy heart. ‘hey baby’. They were calling each other baby. Yours and his nickname. Now you were truly sick. You rushed past them and upstairs to the bathroom gaining a few concerned looks from your friends.

“What was that?” One of the boys asked but it was silent.

Sarah followed you upstairs and Rafe went to check his phone. He saw a few texts from Sofia but he ignored them. He placed his phone back on the table and raised a brow at nothing in particular.

“What was that? She was fine like a minute ago.”

“I don’t know man, she must’ve seen something on your phone when it buzzed ‘cause she seemed happy like three minutes ago!”

You were fast asleep now with Sarah massaging your scalp while you dreamed of how easy things used to be when it was just you and him.

To be honest in your head it was Rafe that was massaging your scalp while you slept next to him, not Sarah.

“Look at this view! Rafe it’s beautiful!” You said as you admired the beauty surrounding you both.

The salty breeze of the ocean giving you goosebumps as it hugged your skin. The sand and the water colliding together like they were made for each other, while the sky was displaying gold rays of sun making the sand that was sticking to your skin radiate your features more.

“It really is beautiful!” He smiled softly while watching you with only love in his eyes.

This was the moment when he truly knew that you were the one for him. That he loves you.

“I love you!” He said with a genuine and soft voice.

You turned around shocked, unsure if what you hear really came out of his mouth. You were not expecting this.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to kno-“ But before he was able to finish his sentence, your lips crashed onto his, hands going behind his neck, while you got closer on the picnic blanket.

When you pulled away you both were smiling like fools.

“I love you too!” You said without hesitation as he pulled you against his chest. You sat there in a comfortable silence, watching the sunset as you replayed his words over and over in your head with a grin on your face.

You looked over your shoulder again to see what he was doing, but he wasn’t there. You sat up panicked as you started to call out for him, but to no avail. He wasn’t answering.

You looked around desperately but al you could see was a bunch of sand, no track of Rafe.

“Rafe!” You called out again, and again.

“Rafe, where are you?”

“Rafe, please, this is not funny!”

“Rafe, please don’t leave me all alone!”

“Baby, please come back!”

a/n: Hey guys!!! Hope you like the chapter. This is PART 2 of my series IslyIp!! Please leave a feedback so I know if I should keep going and also if you have any requests please lmk!!

[edwardteachswombtattoo]

"Namby-Pamby in a Silk Gown": Our Flag Means Death, Toxic Masculinity, Queer Culture, and the Feminine Man

So. Masculinity. Piracy. Our Flag Means Death. Gentlebeard. Izzy. Colonialism. What the heck does all this mean?

I've watched a lot of queer media in my life, from John Waters movies to more contemporary modern queer cinema like "Portrait of a Lady on Fire" and "The Handmaiden". I even watched through all six seasons of "The L Word". I had the original DVD box set and everything. But when I think of queer cinema, I think of camp. I think of old classics from the seventies and eighties and nineties. The Watermelon Woman, To Wong Foo, But I'm a Cheerleader!, Female Trouble, etc.

Our Flag Means Death is very camp. I'm not comparing it to classic queer cinema, it's a completely different experience from, say, watching a John Waters movie. But the show clearly pulls influence from classic queer cinema, at the very least for aesthetic purposes, i.e. Wee John's drag look in "Calypso's Birthday" heavily inspired by drag queen Divine. What makes Our Flag Means Death unique is it's artful sincerity and unabashed queerness for a show made so long after artful sincerity and unabashed queerness have become "taboo" in Western cinema.

This isn't me trashing modern queer cinema and modern queer fiction. I immensely enjoyed The Handmaiden and Badhaai Do, two excellent pieces of queer cinema that have come out within the past decade. Our Flag Means Death has entered the coveted position of best queer TV show I've personally seen in a very long time because of it's artful sincerity and unabashed queerness, not because it's better than anything that came before it...because it's not better or worse than anything that came before it! OFMD is it's own thing, it's own vibe, it's own story.

Our Flag Means Death is a story. And you can either engage with the story as written or engage only with certain small parts of it. The disconnect between audience and writers (and I say this as a writer myself) is that writers (most of them anyway) write stories for a media literate audience. But fundamentally, you do not need to reach a certain threshold of media literacy before you are allowed to engage with a story...you just engage. And this is both bad and good. No one should be barred from engaging with a story because they won't get it or even can't get it. Because if we prevent people who don't get it from engaging with the text, how are they ever going to learn how to engage with the text? They won't, is the answer. You can't gaslight gatekeep girlboss people into media literacy.

Our Flag Means Death is not a complex story. It's very straightforward. If you do not understand what the story is doing, it's not because you're being tricked or lied to: it's because, somewhere along the line, you've misunderstood. So when the story isn't making sense, it's useful to ask yourself: is this bad writing or have I misunderstood what's being said? And sometimes it is bad writing! Sometimes it is! But which is more likely: it's all bad writing or I've personally misunderstood what the story is trying to do? If you don't understand what a story is doing, all these little moments might look like bad writing--because your brain does not know what's happening! Your brain is trying to put a puzzle together but the pieces are all flipped over so you can't see the actual picture!

What is Our Flag Means Death is trying to do? If it's trying to do anything at all, what is it? And why does it make perfect sense for some people while others are confused, angry, even upset? And do they have a right to be? Fundamentally, if you think a story is trying to do something and it's failing at that, you have a right to be upset--and stories have a right to try and fail! That does not necessarily make the story objectively bad!

Our Flag Means Death is trying to commentate on masculinity. Like the oft misunderstood Fight Club (coincidentally, Fight Club was written by a gay man). This is relevant. It's actually all very relevant. There is a difference between what Our Flag Means Death is attempting to do vs. what it actually does. And the line between is thin to the point of nonexistence. The discussion surrounding masculinity and what it means to be a man is just so vast, so entangled with white colonialism and imperialism and racism that any discussion requires an understanding of how these systems function. And Our Flag Means Death invites this discussion--perhaps not intentionally, but it's there. It has to be there. We can't talk about what it means to be a man without talking about race. You cannot write a story featuring an indigenous brown man that partially centers masculinity without at least grazing these topics, intentionally or unintentionally.

This show is a comedy. A romantic comedy. I know that. We all know that. It's not going to spend forty minutes talking about race and colonialism. What it is going to do is have an indigenous man choke out a white colonizer while reading a love letter from his foppy fem boyfriend. What it is going to do is have little Ed murder his abusive white father to protect his mother. What it is going to do is have a bunch of British colonizers die horrifically after being poisoned by a black woman whose establishment they took over. What it is going to do is have Stede burn down a ship full of racist aristocrats while making sure we (the audience) see the servants escaping on a boat in the background while several of the aforementioned aristocrats jump off the burning ship to their probable deaths.

ed you are so fucking hot holy fuck oh my godd holy fuck

Ahem.

Our Flag Means Death is not a subtle show. So when it looks you directly in the eye and says "HEY!! THIS CHARACTER IS BULLYING THIS OTHER CHARACTER WHO JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE A FEMININE GAY MAN! I WONDER WHY THAT IS HMMM???" you should perhaps take that into consideration.

This show loves it's small details, it's winks and nods at the audience. Stede not wearing his rings the morning after "Calypso's Birthday", Wee John having a place to sit at all times, etc. But when it comes to overarching super important plot points? It's never whispered, always shouted. Or whatever Hozier said.

"Some namby-pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend" --Izzy to Ed "A proper little seductress" --Izzy to Lucius "Who's the big gal?" --Jack to/about Stede "a heavyset woman in a silk dressing gown" --one of the British naval officers about Stede

White colonial masculinity tightens a proverbial vice around all the men in Our Flag Means Death. Some of them die for it. Others overcome and live beyond it. But it is a system enforced through emotional and physical violence. Bullying from your peers, threats of physical or emotional retaliation for stepping out of line. The coveted status of Man (patriarch, father, husband) and the inferior status of Woman (mother, wife) that must never touch. The status of Failed Man (feminine, weak, soft).

I think Orville Peck and Willie Nelson said it first.

"And I believe to my soul that inside every man is the feminine And inside every lady, there's a deep manly voice loud and clear" ... "And inside every lady, there's a cowboy who'd love to come out And inside every cowboy, there's a lady who'd love to slip out"

The answer to the question What is Our Flag Means Death trying to do? is a simple one. The show tells us, in very few words, what it is trying to do. The answer to Does it succeed in what it's trying to do? is subjective.

Stede's escape from traditional colonial masculinity and his subsequent disavowing of it are subjective interpretations. But what is objective is how Our Flag Means Death chooses to approach masculinity. "Gal", "woman", "namby-pamby", and "seductress" are words used against the least traditionally masculine characters by characters who (arguably) exemplify what being a man is supposed to look like--in other words, they are being degraded by men who exemplify that traditional colonial masculinity. And because they exemplify traditional colonial masculinity, degrading men who do not follow the doctrine is an essential part of that. There must be the status of Man, the status of Woman, and the status of Failed Man that overlaps with the status of Woman. Stede is the Failed Man who overlaps with the status of Woman.

And what of Edward Teach?

This is where the status of Man, Woman, Failed Man, Failed Woman becomes less relevant. Because of course it's all fucking made up and the whole damn concept of the gender binary is colonial nonsense. But it is especially colonial nonsense when we're talking about an indigenous brown man whose concepts of masculinity are so very removed culturally from the fast encroaching shadow of colonization. The divide becomes more vast and deliberate than when we talk about Stede, because Ed and Stede's concepts of what it means to be a man are not fundamentally identical. And then we arrive at the part where Ed chokes out a British colonizer with one hand while reading a letter from his boyfriend with the other hand. And you know, it's very hot and I think we need more of that.

"Calypso's Birthday" is a celebration of queer love and queer joy and it's also where the themes of masculinity and embracing the feminine become so relevant. Because what else is there to say, except how much of this episode hinges on the transformative powers of love and the transformative powers of self-expression through gender fuckery? Wee John and Jim in drag, Izzy (the guy who spent most of last season getting upset that everyone on the fag ship was fagging it up all over the place) in drag, Stede and Ed's first time. And let's not forget the original plan for Episode 6 was for Stede to get a sexy makeover that involved him wearing eyeliner. We were robbed and I will be mad about this for the next 20,000 years.

There's a part of Our Flag Means Death that's about the transformative power of love and another about how toxic masculinity literally kills and another about how artful sincerity is more attractive than ruthless cynicism in fictional media and a big huge one about how you can't critique traditional toxic masculinity without getting into these discussions about colonialism. And Our Flag Means Death does these things very well, even when it's not doing them very well it's still doing them okay. I think the gay pirate show is going to be one of those "classic" pieces of queer media that people look back on fifty or so years from now in the same way people look at queer cinema from the seventies, eighties, nineties, etc. "Oh, Our Flag Means Death? That was a fun time. I wish there were more shows like that nowadays".

[madhatterbri]

Mrs. Officer | J.U.

Summary: Jey brings a new meaning to F the police. 18+.

Author's Note: See this as an apology for a Cold Christmas. 💀

Trigger Warning(s): Cursing.

Jey Uso Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @magicalbuttertarts @surdelcielo @hodgepodge-musings @missbmc94 @miss-kuki-nz @eringobragh420

"Fuck, man," Jey sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. The red and blue lights flashed behind his car. He pulled his car to the side of a dirt road and parked it. He grabbed his license and registration and stuck his hands out the window.

The cop car's door opened and closed. His eyes immediately locked in on the lady cop's reflection in the side view mirror. Her black uniform fit her in all the right places. He was definitely feeling a little less angry about all of this.

The lady cop stood in front of his window. Jey looked her up and down. He licked his lips and bit his bottom lip.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" She asked and grabbed his license. Her eyes scanned his license quickly. "Mister Uso?"

"I, uh, I have no idea, ma'am," he told her.

"You have a tail light out, Mister Uso. Do you always have a lack of care for the safety of yourself and others?"

Before he could answer, the female officer walked away from his car. Jey sighed and leaned back in his seat. She may have been a hard ass, but he didn't mind watching her ass as she walked away. A few minutes later, she came back with his license and registration.

"You are okay to leave, Mister Uso. Have a nice day," she told him.

Before she walked away, he couldn't help himself. "You put a new meaning to the phrase fuck the police,"

She immediately stopped and turned on her heel. Her eyes stared at him in shock and disbelief. "Step out of the vehicle and lean against the trunk of your car,"

Jey stepped out of the vehicle. It was just a joke. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I act dumb when I am nervous. I didn't mean it like that,"

When she didn't budge, he placed his hands on the trunk of his car. Her hands started to pat him down. She started with his shoulders. Open palms tapped against his tank top as she worked her hands down to his stomach and sides. Her fingers toyed with the waistband of his basketball shorts. He looked down as her hand was dangerously close to his dick.

"I got a weapon there that is going to set off if you don't leave it alone," he chuckled. Her hand brushed against him purposely. Jey inhaled sharply as all the blood in his body rushed down there. Her fingertips brushed against him over his shorts.

"I am putting you under arrest," she informed him. "You have the right to remain silent, which I know will be hard for you. Anything you say can and will be used against you,"

"For two jokes? Man, come on with that," he told her. The cold metal handcuffs wrapped around his wrists. The Main Event wrestler muttered under his breath as she led him to the back of her black SUV cop car.

He sat in the middle back seat. His arms pressed between his body and the chair. Jey's right leg jumped up and down nervously. The bosses at his job weren't going to be too happy about this. The potential jailbird looked at the woman sadly. To his shock, she slid in the seat with him and closed the door behind her.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Fuck the police, right?" She asked. "Why don't you show me what you meant by that?"

Y/N started to fiddle with his basketball shorts. The shocked man raised his hips slightly to help her as his shorts dropped to his knees. His hard dick sprung out of his shorts. A bead of his pre-cum at the tip. She leaned down and licked it off him slowly. He cursed as his body shook in pleasure. His dick twitched.

Her tongue glided from the base all the way until the tip. She sucked on the head softly before lowering her head on him.

Jey bucked his hips and cursed. The pretty cop was sitting down next to him. Her head bobbed up and down on his lap. He closed his eyes and brought his head back. Whatever part of him she couldn't reach, her hand rubbed him up and down.

"Mamas," he repeated as he grunted. Before he could cum, she pulled away from him.

While dazed, he didn't notice he was leaning forward. The officer started to remove his handcuffs. The man absentmindedly moved his wrists forward and started to twirl them around. He stopped and looked at his hands in confusion when he noticed.

"What?"

"It is such a shame that you got out of those cuffs, Mister Uso," she smirked at him. Y/N placed the handcuffs on his lap. "Why should I do all the work when you wanted to fuck the police?"

Jey didn't have much time to plan. The SUV, while spacious for other activities, was absolutely cramping his style when it came to sex. His mind raced on a solution, and he finally had a plan.

"You liked searching me, right? I think it's time I searched you," he told her. "Take your top off and don't keep me waiting, officer,"

The police officer did as she was told. Her uniform shirt and undershirt were piled on the floor. He didn't hide that he was checking her out. Dark lust filled eyes scanned her up and down. He licked his lips.

"Got to make sure you aren't hiding anything under these," he told her. His hands palmed her breasts. His thumbs rubbed over her pert nipples.

Jey leaned in and toyed with her breasts. He licked, nipped, and sucked on her nipples. His fingers rubbed between her legs. Her body responded beautifully to him. Soft little gasps and moans as she bucked her hips towards him.

The utility belt around her waist was the next to go, followed by her socks and shoes. She hoisted her waist to help him remove her work pants. The once proud officer was now down to her underwear. A wet spot evident from his teasing.

"Lay over the console with your hands behind your back,"

Jey gave her time to do so. Her upper half laid over the console. Hands placed behind her back like she was instructed. Within moments, the metal handcuffs were fastened around her wrists.

"I bet I can make you louder than one of your little sirens," he challenged. He hooked his fingers at her panty waistline and slid them down.

Jey massaged her ass. He couldn't believe he was about to fuck the police officer in her own squad car. There was no reason to rush. Future generations would thank him for fucking the attitude out of her. For now, though, he was going to revel in it.

With no warning, two of his fingers slipped inside of her. She gasped and moaned. A quick pace was set before she could even adjust. His fingers thrusted in and out. Her hips bucked backward to take more of him in.

Y/N felt her arousal grow to new heights. This was all so new to her. She never dreamed about doing this outside. Never dreamed about being taken in her squad car. Her handcuffs fastened by her back as her man behind her did whatever he pleased. Heat pooled in her stomach.

"I need it, Jey, please," she moaned.

"First name now, huh?" He asked. The wrestler lowered his shorts to around his knees. His tank top thrown over his shoulder. "You just couldn't wait until we got home? Had to pull me over with your little power trip,"

Jey grabbed her hips and lowered her bottom half towards him. He gripped his dick and slid the tip between her folds. She moaned out his name. "Jey,"

He thrusted inside of her. She gasped at the intrusion. His pelvis pressed into her ass. He rolled his head back and shook it. God, he missed this. Using the limited space they had, he started to thrust in and out of her.

"You were thinking about this all through your shift, huh? That's why you kept asking me about my arrival time," he accused. She didn't bother defending herself. The proof was in their text messages. "That's right, baby, you missed all of this so much,"

Jey looked up and saw his reflection in the rear-view mirror. A wicked thought popped into his head. After one last rough thrust, he pulled out of her.

"No," she whined.

"I know you ain't gonna act greedy right now," he told her. "You gotta do some work too,"

Her boyfriend grabbed her to help her up. Knees parted as she straddled over him. "Sit on it,"

He guided her down on his dick. She slid down easily. Her walls gripped around to keep him inside of her. "Oh, Jey,"

"Look in the mirror, baby,"

Y/N looked at the mirror and blushed. Eyes blown out. Teeth biting her bottom lip. Jey was watching her. He placed his hand around her neck to keep her still. He thrusted in and out of her again. She rolled her hips and tried to put her head back.

"Nuh uh, look in the mirror," he ordered. She watched as her face continued in and out of the mirror frame. Y/N wasn't sure about this until his fingers found her clit.

She squirmed in his arms. Her mouth parted as she told him it was too much. His other hand played with her nipples. His thumb rubbed the sensitive nubs.

"I can feel you about to cum, baby. Is that what you want? Do you want to ruin these seats?" He asked her. She nodded eagerly. "You gonna think about that when you have a prisoner back here, huh? How you couldn't wait until I got home so you had me stuff you full,"

She tightened around him.

"Yeah, she liked that huh?"

Jey picked up the pace. The sound of sweaty skin slapping against the other sounded in the car. She moaned and whimpered. The pool in her lower stomach proved too much. She tensed around him one last time and let go. Jey bucked inside of her and came. He pulled her close to keep from falling.

"I missed you too, Mrs. Officer,"

[midnight-bay-if]

Hi! :3

What if MC had to break up and marry that new person? Maybe it was blackmail, maybe it was political threat or something. So, for many years MC had to live with this lie and abandon the person they truly love? But somehow RO gets to know about it??

(It took me a long time to figure out how to answer this; I hope these are okay!)

S: They hear the rumour through the grapevine; a coerced marriage, heartbreak, fear, all leading to sombre acceptance. It's everything their parents wanted for them, but somehow the fate has become yours. It all balls up inside them; the anger, the hurt, the sadness for you... it's overwhelming. Why would you choose to settle? Why would you not come to them for help? These are questions they are desperate to ask but can do nothing until they have looked you in the eye and seen the answers that lie within. This time, they promise, they will not look away.

Too many years wasted already, they refuse to waste a second more. Now, they will do what they do best; concoct a plan, arrange a meeting, coerce their way to your side. Nothing is off the table. They are prepared to bet it all to see you returned to a life of happiness.

They made a promise to you, after all.

Rain: S tried to protect them from any news of you, knowing how much it hurt. But once they hear the truth, it tears them up inside. Had the roles been reversed, would they have done the same? The thought they might have shames them. They do not blame you. Your desire to protect was just one of the beautiful shades of your mosiac they fell in love with. So much of their colour dulled when they lost you. They fear the same may have happened to you. They want it back; they want you back.

So, they will find you. They will stand firm, steady. If you tell them you are unhappy, if they see it within you, nothing in this world could prevent them from pulling you free. Even if it means dragging the ugliest parts of themselves from the deepest dredges they drowned back to the surface, they will. For you.

Taj: Taj doesn't remember the exact moments that followed being told the news, only that the room was turned over, furniture clawed into, and ornaments shattered on the ground. Their heart thunders against their ribs; their bones rattle with the uncontained fury as their hands shake. Anything is preferable to the stinging sensation of tears they desperately try to abate.

They are pissed at you. How could you decide this all on your own? Why? Did you think they would feel sorry for you? Not even a little bit. You should have come to them, trusted them. Did you think your act of self-sacrifice would ease your fuckin' ego? Well, since you took the choice from them, they will take it from you. They will find you. Get you back. Pull you into their arms, and never fuckin' let go.

Your spouse is going to feel every ounce of pain they suffered without you.

N: How you continue to surprise them is a mystery all on its own. They never believed you were the type to just roll over. They still refuse to believe it. It would be easier for them to think you had truly changed your heart and fallen for another who wasn't riddled with their cruelty. But no. You had given yourself over to someone just as cruel. It infuriates them, the rage tearing in their gut, burning through the magical disguise they once wore so easily.

Who did you think you were protecting? Clearly not yourself.

Well, perhaps they will find out why while squeezing the life out of your spouse; they can explain it all through the gurgles of their death rattle. As far as they are concerned, the demon they buried for you deserves some play time.

Umbra: They do not hesitate. All the pain, the discomfort, the fear; they shove it all down, pushing their body past its limits to find you, to reach you. They never should have let you go. They should have been there. It's all their fault. Useless. Pathetic. Worthless.

It's been a long time since they thought to press a dagger to a man's throat without your say so, but they regret not doing so the moment your spouse thought to snatch you away. They wanted to be the person you saw in them; they did. But in the end, they were always this. If you tell them to stop, they will consider it. They promise.

But they would be lying to themselves if the thought of letting their hand "slip" wasn't ever so sweet. They may be a monster, but so are those who dared force this on you.

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. push the reset button we’re becoming something new.

10, CHAPTER TEN. THE RESET BUTTON.

ju speaks. it’s the end. i want to thank everyone so so so much for supporting this story and seeing through it lol. your comments, reblogs, everything you leave in my inbox… it all means so much to me despite half of you being upset most of the time (i get it, nai & paige are very insufferable lmao). NOWWW we can discuss bonus chaps! what do we wanna see? requests are also officially open until i start the next series so i’d totally appreciate some of those as well! pairing. paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. bittersweet ending?

present day, august 2025.

i leaned against a wall, arms crossed, trying to act like i wasn’t two seconds from pacing a hole into the floor. the gainbridge fieldhouse was sold out—players shouting, sneakers squeaking on the court, a crowd somewhere above us hyped up and ready for the all-star game.

i should’ve been hyped too. this was my moment. the paige bueckers all-star debut. rookie year, voted in, the whole thing. i’d made it, right?

except, instead of soaking it all in, i was standing in this stupid tunnel, staring at the floor like it had answers. the floor wasn’t talking back, obviously, but it was easier to look at than the people walking past.

“it’s p boogers!”

i looked up just in time to see kk bouncing down the tunnel like she owned the place, azzi trailing behind her with an amused look on her face. “bruh.” i groaned, dragging a hand down my face, but i couldn’t stop the grin creeping in. “we’re not doing that today.” kk was decked out in my all-star jersey, two sizes too big on purpose, and azzi had gone with the team-issued merch.

kk is definitely a good cheer-up method, and i know azzi brought her here on purpose. she knows me, that’s for sure.

“nah, we are,” kk shot back, spinning around to show off her jersey. my jersey. “see this? i’m your biggest fan. autographs are fifty bucks, by the way.”

“you mean my autograph?” i deadpanned, pushing off the wall to meet them halfway.

“nah, mine,” she said, smirking. “i make this look good.”

“yeah, right!” i scoffed with a laugh, pulling her into a quick hug before turning to azzi. “y’all are early.”

“yeah, cam said you’d be back here,” azzi replied, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets. her calmness somehow always made me feel like i needed to explain myself, even when i wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“so… you stalking me now?” i asked, raising an eyebrow. i knew where i was supposed to be. they knew where i was supposed to be. probably not by myself so close to tip-off, that’s for sure.

“not stalk,” kk corrected, already grinning. “just… strategically locate.”

“spell strategically.”

“girl—“

she lunges at me, and i flinch, stepping back with a wide grin. “next time, give me a heads-up so i can, like, actually hide!”

azzi rolled her eyes but smiled. “we just wanted to see you before the game started. make sure you’re not pulling a KD and going ghost or something.”

“why would i do that?” i gestured to myself with mock offense. “i’m the picture of composure right now.”

“right,” azzi dragged the word out, smirking like she didn’t buy it for a second. “feels like forever since we’ve watched you play.” and it hit me again—harder this time.

forever. yeah.

i rubbed the back of my neck, forcing another smile. “yeah, it’s been a minute.” she wasn’t asking to dig—she never did—but she was always good at reading between the lines. and in this case, the line was obvious. it hadn’t been that long.

only a minute since they’d seen me. a minute since i’d seen nai.

well, no. i’d seen her. we couldn’t exactly avoid each other. our jobs made sure of that, but i wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing. i mean, seeing her makes it easier, right? gets the pain of it all over with. except it didn’t. it didn’t fill the space that felt empty whenever we weren’t talking. seeing her, hearing her laugh, watching her avoid my eyes at all costs—it didn’t feel the same anymore. there was a wall now. a different circumstance.

we were strangers.

i mean, not really strangers. we could never be that. i still caught myself looking when she walked past. but it was like everything that once made sense between us, everything that came so naturally, had been boxed up and put in storage.

i hate how good i got at pretending it didn’t hurt.

kk didn’t notice, already turning to azzi to ask about grabbing food, but azzi caught the shift, her brows furrowing just enough to make me nervous.

“you good?” she asked, her voice softer now.

i nodded too quick, furrowing my eyebrows like she didn’t have to worry about me. “yeah. fine.”

azzi placed an assuring hand on my shoulder before they walked off, leaving me alone in the tunnel, and just like that, the weight i’d been holding at bay crashed right back down.

i rubbed my chin, huffing and staring down at my shoes. it was stupid to think about her now. stupid to wonder if she was watching or if she even cared.

she wasn’t here. she wasn’t watching.

and i didn’t blame her.

i’m watching the all-star game.

not voluntarily, of course. it happens to be on in yardhouse, and my stupid eyes keep drifting back to this stupid screen.

i pick at my food, dragging my fork around the plate without taking a bite. a couple of my girls from usc—bree, naia… they’re all pretending like they don’t notice, like they don’t hear the cheers or see paige for sure having one of her best games since being in the league right now. they’re avoiding it for my sake, which i appreciate—sort of. it’s just making the air feel heavier.

“hey,” bree tilts her head up in my direction. “you sure about going back to minnesota?”

i glance her, mumbling a, “what?” mid-bite, although i’d heard her perfectly clear.

“the lynx,” she says, gesturing vaguely with her hand. “you’re really gonna go? leave la? what am i supposed to do without my favorite person to drag to runyon canyon at 6am?”

i snort, rolling my eyes. “first of all, i’m not your favorite person. second, i never agreed to runyon canyon. you kidnapped me.”

“it was consensual kidnapping,” she shoots back with a smile, but there’s something softer beneath her all the playfulness, a quiet undertone of, don’t go.

“i’ll miss you guys, obviously,” i say, waving a fry in her direction like it’s a peace offering. “but i’m not doing anything drastic yet. it’s just… something i’m considering.”

naia folds her arms and tilts her head. “considering enough that you’ve already decided to stay with your dad?”

“your dad?” bree cuts in, raising an eyebrow. “you’ve barely mentioned him since college.”

“he’s mellowed out.” i shrug, more defensive than i mean to be. “and it’s temporary. it’s not like i’m moving in with him forever.”

bree pouts dramatically, pushing her glass of soda away as if she’s protesting. “this feels personal. like, what did i do to deserve this? you’re really gonna leave me here with her?” she jabs a thumb toward naia, who glares at her.

“her has a name,” she deadpans.

“and her is not the one moving to the frozen tundra!” bree quips, throwing her hands up. “do you even know how cold minnesota gets? you’re gonna end up as a nai-sicle, and i’m gonna have to fly out and save you.”

bree’s dramatics usually get a laugh out of me, and i lean back in my chair, my hand brushing along the rim of my glass, thinking about what she said—about the tundra, about me leaving.

i love la—God, do i love it. the sunshine, the beaches, the way life feels like it’s always in motion. but now, i’ve convinced myself it’s too loud, too fast. too…paige.

moving back to minnesota was a sudden decision. the kind you make when you’re desperate for air but can’t find any. it wasn’t even on my radar until that night in front of nika’s hotel, paige in the passenger seat, the look in her eyes when she realized she’d completely lost me. i could still feel the weight of her hands on my face. when i told paige she had to let me go, i realized i wasn’t just asking her to stop. i needed to stop too.

the moment she let go of my face and settled into my passenger seat, something shifted in me. it was like the final thread tying me to her snapped, and all i could feel was this overwhelming need to get out.

i told myself the move would give me space to breathe, to find myself again. but the truth is, i made the decision sitting in that car, staring at the road through the rain soaked windshield as the car fell completely silent. it wasn’t logic; it was survival.

i don’t regret ending it. i don’t regret choosing myself. but i hate not having her in my life.

and maybe that’s the real reason i’m thinking about minnesota. it’s not just about starting over—it’s about making sure i don’t get pulled back into something i can’t handle.

bree’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “are you seriously not gonna respond? i just said i’d fly to minnesota to save your life. i think i deserve some credit for that.”

i smirk, grabbing a fry from her plate. “you’re so selfless. really, a true hero.”

my eyes drift back to the tv. she’s there again, all 6’0 of her grinning like she doesn’t have a care in the world, like she isn’t the reason i’m about to pack up everything and move back across the country.

yeah. i have to go.

back in indianapolis, the game had wrapped up with team wnba taking the win in one of those ridiculous, down to the wire finishes that made everyone’s heart stop at least three times. it was the kind of game you dream about, the kind that made the crowd stay on their feet, and the rush of the moment admittedly did help me forget about the static in my head.

“man, y’all really got it all figured out, huh?” i said, leaning my head back against the seat of the bus and watching as natasha cloud scrolled through pictures on her phone. she was showing off shots of her and her fiancée from their last vacation, the kind of photos that looked too perfect to be real, the ones you double tapped without a second thought. beaches, sunsets, matching shades—it was all there.

“you’re telling me paige bueckers, the golden child of the league, doesn’t have somebody?” natasha asked, tilting her phone toward me with a smirk. “no way. i don’t believe that for a second.”

i try to play it off with a shrug of my shoulders. “nah, she’s totally lying,” caitlin clark cut in from across the aisle, balancing a bottle of gatorade on her knee. “she was all about this girl back when we were on team usa together in high school. what was her name? nai? nailea?”

the name hit like a quick jab. i kind of set myself up for that one. “i wasn’t all about her,” i said, dragging the words out, like maybe if i said them slow enough, they’d sound believable.

caitlin’s laugh came quick, along with a raise of her eyebrow. “you kinda were, though. you’d bring her up all the time, like, ‘oh, nai likes that’ or ‘nai said this.’ it was cute, in an annoyingly obvious way.”

i tried for a laugh, but landed somewhere closer to a cough. i scoffed as i crossed my arms. “first of all, no. second of all, you’re remembering wrong.”

“am i, though?” caitlin pressed, grinning as she leaned forward. “so, what happened then? you still talk to her?���

i hesitated, clasping my hands together in the large space between my knees. “nah,” i said finally, running a hand down the length of my ponytail. “we don’t really talk anymore.”

it wasn’t technically a lie. but it wasn’t the full truth either.

sparing the details felt like too much—like the quiet “let me go” she’d whispered that night had somehow traveled with me all the way here, stuck in the back of my mind. the words still clung to me, threading through the days i tried not to think about her and the nights when i couldn’t help it.

natasha frowned slightly. “that’s tough.”

i hated that the conversation had shifted here, hated caitlin even more for bringing it up. but i couldn’t blame her. nai was a huge part of my life then, and somehow, even when she’s not supposed to be, she still is.

“wait—so… what happened? did you mess up? or was it, like, one of those timing things?” caitlin asked. she was genuinely curious, i could tell, but the there was still that teasing tinge.

“clark, let it go,” i said, half-laughing, half-praying she’d drop it before i said something i didn’t want to unpack.

“what?” she replied, holding her hands up. “i’m just saying. it sounded serious back then. you don’t talk about someone like that unless they mean something.”

“it was a long time ago,” i muttered.

natasha glanced at me, her eyes narrowing. “so what’s stopping you now?”

“she doesn’t wanna be in my life,” i said with a huff, and it felt good to say it. admit it to myself. “and, uh. i’ont think i’m really her favorite person right now.” i pressed my lips together, staring at the floor like it might open up and swallow me whole. i’ve been doing a lot of that recently.

“so why not keep her around?” natasha said after a moment. “doesn’t have to be all or nothing, you know. sometimes it’s worth it to just… keep people in your life. even if it’s not the way you thought it’d be.”

“amen to that,” one of the vets added, and i chuckled as i thought about it.

friends. that’s what she was implying, and it felt foreign for us. keeping nai in my life, just not as… her. not as the girl i flew out to connecticut every other weekend to make up for my shenanigans, or the girl who sat on the bathroom counter watching me brush my teeth because “it’s boring out there without you.” not as the girl whose voice i memorized like it was a song stuck in my head, or the one whose stupidly perfect smile made me forget my own name sometimes.

nai had never been in my life as “just a friend,” and i didn’t know if i could put her in that box now. how the hell could i pretend like i could compartmentalize every look, every laugh, every piece of her that’s still stuck in my skin like a tattoo i can’t scrub off? it’d be like trying to stuff something infinite into a container that didn’t fit—like ignoring the fact that she’d always meant more to me than that.

i appreciated the advice, i really did. but now her name was in my head again, and i’d probably be thinking about this for the rest of the night.

and maybe they were right. maybe letting her go didn’t mean losing her completely. but the idea of reaching out—of risking another rejection—it was enough to make me freeze. because what if i tried, and it still wasn’t enough?

i was inside the café grabbing our food, trying to juggle everything—drinks, fries, and some half-assed attempt at balancing the trays without spilling everything—when i caught the tail end of their conversation. it didn’t take long to figure out they were talking about nai.

“yes.”

“no.”

“yes!”

“no!”

“God, cam, you’re so stubborn!” rickea’s voice carried through the door, and i could practically hear her throwing her hands up in mock frustration.

“what can i say?” cam’s voice floated as she added, “i’m right.”

“you’re not!” rickea argued, shaking her head. “minnesota’s not even close to having a shot. i’m telling you, they’re just not—“

“well, if nai wants to go back to minnesota,” cam said casually, sipping her drink, “then she’s got a chance. she said something about being closer to her dad, too.”

i froze for a second, my mind stuttering to catch up with her words. nai. minnesota. closer to her dad. it hit harder than i expected, like a brick to the chest. i tried to keep my cool, but everything about it felt wrong. i didn’t know if i was imagining it or if it was the way the air shifted, but something about her tone made it feel like everything had just paused.

“wait, what?” i forced out. i couldn’t have heard that right.

rae’s head snapped over, her eyes going wide. “bro,” she hissed, kicking cam under the table. “she told you not to say anything.” i dropped the tray, sliding in next to her.

cam’s face froze, her lips still wrapped around the straw. “oh, shit,” she mumbled, glancing at me like a deer caught in headlights. “i mean—”

“why’s she moving back?” it was a stupid question, really. i knew why. the timing of it all.

“i mean, it’s her home,” cam muttered, clearly regretting bringing it up. “and, you know, the lynx could be looking for someone with her skill set if she decides to leave la.”

“betraying us for the lynx,” rae added with a fake scowl, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “cold.”

i didn’t laugh. i didn’t even really hear the joke. this was it, wasn’t it? she was leaving. and this time, there wouldn’t be a next time. no more half-hearted calls or texts that went unanswered. no more moments where we found each other in the same room and pretended everything was fine.

i opened my mouth to say something—anything—but the words got stuck. i fucked it up. that’s what i wanted to say. i fucked it up, and now it was too late.

“i mean, it’s her home,” cam muttered, clearly regretting bringing it up. “and, you know, the lynx could be looking for someone with her skill set if she decides to leave la.”

“you good?” cam’s voice was cautious, and her eyes darted between me and the others, like she wasn’t sure if she’d just kicked over a hornet’s nest.

“i don’t know,” i admitted, my voice barely audible. i leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face, trying to get a grip. it felt like i was teetering on the edge of something i couldn’t name.

“you look like you’re thinking,” rae cut in.

“i am.”

“about what?”

“don’t know.”

rickea, sitting across from me, didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. “about what you’re gonna do?”

“what am i supposed to do?” i shot back. her eyebrows lifted, and i sighed, softening my tone. “she’s done with me. where we stand’s been pretty clear.”

rickea didn’t blink. “you sure about that?”

my stomach flipped. did she know something i didn’t? “what you saying?”

“i’m saying,” she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, “that maybe she was gonna talk to you before she made up her mind.”

my breath caught. “what do you mean by was?”

“look,” rickea said carefully, glancing at cam and rae like she was asking for backup. “i’m just saying, nai brought you up the other day. something about wanting to figure things out before… whatever happens next. she didn’t go into details, but it sounded like she wasn’t done with you.”

done with me. i didn’t even know what that meant anymore. but just the thought of it—of her even thinking about figuring things out—was enough for me. i’d take what i could get it.

“so talk to her,” rae urged, nudging my knee under the table like she was trying to get me to snap out of it. “you’re acting like this is already over, and you haven’t even tried.”

cam tilted her head. “and maybe… maybe it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, you know? you could start with just—”

“friends,” i finished bitterly, cutting her off.

she shrugged. “it’s better than nothing,” she tried to comfort. “and if she’s willing to have you in her life at all, then maybe that’s something worth trying for.”

friends. it echoed in my head again, this stupid idea that natasha had already planted. something about it felt so wrong, but at the same time, the thought of letting her go completely was unbearable.

“we’d help,” cam offered with a small smile, nudging rickea. “if you need backup or… whatever.”

“hell yeah,” rae agreed, furrowing her eyebrows like it was a given. “just say the word.”

i exhaled slowly, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. my mind was spinning, looping through all the ways i’d messed things up, all the things i could’ve said or done differently. but none of that mattered now. what mattered was what i did next.

“okay,” i said finally. “how?”

when rickea texted, i almost didn’t answer. the day had been long in that draggy, soul-sucking kind of way where everything felt like a chore. i’d spent most of it staring at my computer, half-heartedly working on a report while fighting the urge to crawl back into bed. by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, i was fully settled on the couch, one leg tucked under me, the other dangling off the edge, a bowl of cereal balanced precariously on my thigh. the idea of getting up, let alone leaving the house, felt like too much effort.

then the second text came in.

rickea: please nai 😫😬😅☹️😣😕😭 (don’t make me beg) 11:23pm

rickea had a way of making me laugh even when i didn’t want to. i stared at my phone for a full minute before sighing and putting the bowl down on the coffee table. cereal wasn’t worth the headache i’d get if i ignored her and she found out.

nai: what’d you forget this time?

her response came almost instantly.

rickea: left something on your desk earlier when i came by. i need it.

vague. no specifics, no explanation, just enough to be mildly suspicious. but i was too tired to argue, so i slipped into my slippers, still in my mismatched pajamas that consisted of a faded hoodie and some loose joggers, and grabbed my keys.

you’re too nice, i thought. the drive over was quiet, the streets still packed to the brim, because this city truly never slept. it was august, and even at night, the air was so suffocatingly thick with heat. my car’s ac sputtered in protest every few minutes, and the radio played low, some random playlist i’d thrown on earlier, the songs fading into the background as my mind wandered.

i didn’t know what i expected when i got to the office. maybe a forgotten laptop charger or a stack of papers rickea couldn’t live without. something small, simple, and annoying enough to make me question why i even bothered.

what i didn’t expect was the glow of my desk lamp spilling out into the otherwise dark room.

i froze in the doorway, my hand still on the knob, my pulse quickening just slightly. i hadn’t left it on earlier, i was sure of it. my first thought was that someone else had come in after me, maybe left it on by mistake. but as my eyes adjusted, i saw the flowers.

some were fresh—bright and colorful, but the others… the others were absolutely done for, their edges browned and curling, their stems drooping under the weight of time.

i knew those flowers. they were my flowers.

they were arranged into a single word, their stems carefully twisted and balanced: friends?

my heart jumped into my throat, and my hands moved over my mouth, my pulse roaring in my ears. i froze, torn between laughing at the absurdity of it and something i didn’t have a name for.

my breath hitched, and for a moment, all i could do was stare. i reached out, my fingers brushing one of the fresher blooms, and my mind raced. there was only one person who would—could—do something like this.

the flowers. the stupid lamp left on. the messy bouquet spelling out a word that felt like both an offering and a question. it was all so… her.

my fingers trembled as i traced the edge of one of the wilted flowers, the brittle petals flaking under my touch. these were the same ones she got me for my birthday, the ones i kept in a mason jar way longer than i should’ve, because throwing them out felt wrong. they looked ridiculous now alongside the fresh ones, but the longer i stared, the more it made sense.

it was us. chaotic, mismatched, and somehow still there. still standing.

“my bad for breaking in. kea helped.”

paige stepped out from a corner in the room, and the movement from my peripheral made me spin around.

“my bad for breaking in. kea helped,” she added, throwing it out there like it was no big deal.

“kea?” i repeated, and it suddenly all made sense in one click.

“yeah.”

“your idea?”

“‘course,” paige replied, shrugging her shoulders as she strolled closer. “couldn’t let you get away without letting you know sum’.”

she strolled forward, her hands stuffed into her hoodie pocket, her sneakers making soft thuds against the carpet. her eyes locked onto mine, unflinching, and even from across the room, i could that whatever she was about to say was worth hearing.

“i know i’m probably the last person you wanna hear from right now. and maybe i deserve that. but i’ve been thinkin’, like, this whole time. about you. about us. and maybe we didn’t always get it right, but i still don’t think we got it wrong.”

my stomach twisted, and i folded my arms across my chest, unsure whether to let her keep talking or shut her down. but she kept going anyway, her words spilling out in a rush, like she had to get them out before i could stop her.

she stopped just in front of me, close enough that i could smell the stupidly familiar cologne on her neck that’d probably been lingering for hours after her shower. her hand fell to her side, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie.

“i don’t wanna lose you,” she said, and i could hear her trying to hold it together. “not again. and i know—trust me, i know—i can’t undo all the shit i did. but if there’s even a chance, like, any chance, that i can be in your life again… i’m taking it. whatever it looks like. friends, coworkers, random people who wave awkwardly at each other in public—i’ont care. i just… i need you to let me show up. show you i’m capable.”

i chuckled, tearing my eyes away from her. her words held a heavier weight than any of the bullshit we’d tried to ignore before. i stared at her, taking in the way her shoulders slumped just a little, the rawness in her voice, and that damn hope in her eyes. it almost killed me. it did kill me. because, shit, i wanted to say it wasn’t enough. that it was too late. that the cracks were too deep and the damage irreversible.

but that wasn’t true. this was different. an entirely different status that didn’t require any promises or heartbreak.

i still cared. i think i always would. it was in the way i couldn’t throw away that stupid bouquet despite how angry i was that she’d walked out on me that day, the way i thought the only way i could forget about her was moving back to minnesota, which i think would no longer be in the question after this.

because if we did it right this time, there was still a shot.

still a shot.

i moved before i could stop myself, crossing the distance between us and wrapping my arms around her, pulling her into a hug that was too tight to be anything but real. “the reset button, yeah?”

she hesitated at first, but then she let out a breath and hugged me back, her arms feeling like a safe place i hadn’t realized i was missing. she rested her head on my shoulder, a lovable habit. “yeah. ‘s gotta be worth somethin’, right?”

it was worth more than she probably thought.

“who are you and what have you done with paige?” i muttered against her shoulder, a snarky grin tugging at my lips. it was easier to do than admit how much i’d missed this—missed her. wouldn’t be very friendly-like.

she pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes.

“i’m whoever you want me to be.”

[writingwisterias]

Following on from previous Leon Eras, how do you think all the different Leon Eras would react to a best friend or S/O that's been there when he's seen Ada and knows how he feels about her, so they're always feeling a little bit inadequate? Like there's always that little voice in the back of their mind telling them that they're not good enough for Leon and that they'll never be as good as her? Especially for the best friend who's secretly in love with him, they probably never said anything earlier because of their insecurities, I imagine that RE4R Leon would almost pretend not to see it because he's torn between how he feels but DI Leon would be the kind to keep you locked in a cuddle until you feel a little bit better about yourself

Hi Anon!

So I do think this is a really interesting idea especially since how Leon reacts to ada in the game is important to his character's development! However this is no hate on ada because I love her and would do anything she asked me to 👀

Warnings: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, insecurities, slight angst

GN!Reader

RE2:

This is where Ada becomes a big impact in his life and how he would view/trust people in general

So if you started dating him after the events of raccoon City I would say it can be hard to deal with

Not only his insecurities about your loyalty would feed into the relationship, he's constantly watching for underlying meanings in your words

But also he's just generally guilty in what happened at the end

I don't think he would be hung up on the kiss they shared, but I do think how he reacts to people and forming a trusting bond when they ask him to do things would be difficult.

Because he doesn't see her after the events of raccoon City until Spain I don't think seeing her would cause a problem to you.

Just the trauma she added to the night unintentionally

RE4R:

Now we enter more interesting territory where their relationship is now complicated

If you are dating him whilst he goes to span the first thing he does is tell you he saw her

He's going to be very open about it and would probably tell you everything she did

I think he admires her in her constant watching and protective nature over him whenever she knows it or not

That being said I do think adding you into the mixture of their complicated affection would cause some difficulties

He's trying desperately to be respectful over your feelings but also he has a lot of questions for Ada he wants answering

I think he would tip toe around the line of knowing it's wrong but purely so he can get the closure he needs

He's willing to take the chance that you would be understanding when he does eventually tell you

Infinite Darkness:

We don't actually see Leon and Ada interact in this Era of him

So if there is any discourse about it, I would say it's because he keeps mentioning her

Maybe he doesn't mean to or he doesn't understand what he is doing but he's constantly talking to you about her

I doubt it's all praise, nor would it be about her looks but the constant mention of her name would eventually get to you

If you mention it he would probably be upset because she is a large part of her life but he would get over it I'm sure

Damnation:

Okay this is where things begin to complicate with their relationship and you

There is that one line in the film where it suggests that they did have a night together

I don't think he would hold that over your head in anyway. He's not comparing you to her at all

But you are

Let's say you are his partner and joined him on this mission, you are a witness to the banter and cant help but feel a bit jealous

Like she's everything you aren't in your own eyes

I think he would get a bit frustrated with how you are taking it and the fact you never seem to understand that he only cares about you

You can't blame him, it's silly to be jealous he wouldn't be with you if he wants her

But seeing how he reacts to her and their history does make you sad

RE6:

This is the main game we see their relationship almost end but also left open

So we will replace you with Helena because it's more interesting.

It turns the situations into he prioritized her safety over yours even though he is in a relationship with you.

He doesn't actually realize what he's done until after the events of the game and he has a lot to make up for

I think it would take him a while to realize as well like he's not going to understand why you are upset straight away

Not because he's dumb but because in his head she needed more help

He would get frustrated with your reaction and not really understand where you are coming from because nothing happened. There was no kiss or anything

It ended with a goodbye and a promise to maybe see each other again soon.

And that's what angers you, until he figures that out it would be rocky whenever she gets mentioned

Vendetta:

Again we don't see Ada interact with Leon in this so if there is an issue it's because he's bringing her up

And of course he will...he's drunk and hates the world

So I don't think he would bring her up in a negative way so when you do get touchy about her- he's confused

I think he would dismiss your concerns because he's literally not said a good thing

It's not until you explain it to him that he understands it sounds like he's still hung up on her

So he would make an effort to show you that's not the case, whenever that's literally saying it during sex

I'm talking like major praise towards you..he would never say her name during that time but imply that you are better

It does work sort of because he is worshipping you but is also doing it on the base of hating her

Eventually he would get distracted by something else to hate on and it wouldn't be a problem

Death Island:

He's not bringing her up as she's part of his past at all

But let's say you are both out n about and he catches the eye of someone that looks similar to her

He then has to explain it to you because he freezes and double takes

The explanation of the complicated history would make it difficult for you because what do you mean this woman has been through almost every important event of his life

Very quick to reassure you he's not seen her in years nor does he want to

He's very content with how his life has turned out and doesn't want you to think otherwise

He would understand if you need constant reassurance over the topic he's more mature so he understands how the situation can be seen

[thebestsetter]

-> Part 1

-> Pairings: Otoya x reader (romantic) , Karasu x reader (platonic)

-> Synopsis: Otoya regrets being a cheater. But how will he tell you that, when he can't even get near you?

-> A/N: I finally, FINALLY finished this. Locked in, guys. Please, someone congratulate me. I need sleep. Not proofread, sorry.

For the first time in a while, Otoya doesn't know what to do.

He's never been insecure about the choices he makes. Actually, scratch that: he's the most uncaring and reckless guy ever, and he just wants to enjoy life to the fullest without really caring for his actions and what they can bring upon him in the future.

God, how he wishes he wasn't like that.

Because right now, all he wants to do is study for 10 years or something, build a time machine, go back to the past and beat his past self up. Like, hard. Until younger him has a bloody nose and a black eye.

Maybe this little "fight" could make past Otoya think twice before cheating on the first girl he got in a serious relationship with. Maybe he wouldn't be known as a womanizer. Maybe he could've had a chance with you then.

Maybe if he did that, he wouldn't be in Karasu's bedroom right now, scattering his brain for the past 2 hours for a way to make you forgive him.

"Don't you have any prophecies for me this time?" Otoya mindlessly asked, tearing tiny pieces of Karasu's math homeword, crumpling them and throwing them at his friend

"What do ya mean? I'm not an oracle" Karasu answered, just wanting this all to be over with (he couldn't handle Otoya going on about you anymore)

"You might as well be" Otoya sighed, grabbing another piece of paper and crumpling it "You've cursed me before. Can't you bless me this once?"

"Well, the things I say ain't gonna change the past. Nothing's going to. What you can do is fix the future"

"Wow. You're actually like a prophet or something." Otoya rolled his eyes, aiming at the top of his friend's hair "I've never thought about that! Wow! You're incredible, prophet Karasu!" He mocked him, muttering a small "Yes!" when the pieces of paper perfectly landed on Tabito's hair

"Haha. Very funny" Karasu glared at his friend, shaking his head to get rid of the paper. Then, he sighed "No, but seriously. Ya need to fix this. I am not going to be your love guru anymore"

"Love guru? You're not even doing anything to help me!" Otoya scoffed, then sighed as he realized he tore all the homework "And if you're so 'tired of me' like you said, just help me solve this situation! Help me find a way to talk to her, cause I'm seriously going insane!"

"I can see that" Karasu smirked, crossing his arms. Then just as soon as he smirked, he stopped. His serious face making it seem like the smirk was it was never even there "Have you tried talking to her, already?"

"Of course I did!" Otoya rolled his eyes, getting up from Karasu's gaming chair and beggining to pace around the room "But I can't! She doesn't let me" He sighed, finally sitting on the floor, right in front of Tabito "She doesn't let me get into her house. And her parents probably know about what's happening too, cause they won't let me in. When she has to go out, she checks if I'm there, and only when she's sure I'm not does she get out. At school, everytime she sees me, she walks the other way. She doesn't sit next to me in any classes, and the only classes we share together are history and advanced chemistry, which we share with you so you know she doesn't even look my way" he crossed his arms, pouting and looking to the side, as if he was ashamed of what he was about to say "It also doesn't help that I've cheated on or flirted with almost all of her girl friends. So they hate me, and won't let me get close to her cause they say I would 'Hurt her' or something"

"Well, would you?" Karasu arched a brow "Hurt and cheat on her, I mean"

"What?" Otoya looked at him incredously, frown deepening as if Karasu said he hated his mom or something "Of course not! I like her dude. Like, like-like her. A lot more than the other girls I got into a relationship with. She's nicer, prettier, smarter, funnier, more caring, more-"

"Alright, alright, I get it" Karasu smirked again "You're head over heels. Well, loverboy, why don't you try talking to her again tomorrow during chemistry? If it doesn't work out, we can try to find another way, 'right?"

"Sure" Otoya sighed, getting up "I don't think it's gonna work, but it's worth the shot"

"Now, let's go eat something to take your mind out of this for a while. My mom prepared cookies" Karasu also got up, patting Otoya's back and putting his arm around his shoulders

"Sure, all this thinking made me hungry anyways" he then looked at the ground, like he was lost in thought. He then suddenly lifted his head, and Karasu could almost see a light bulb lighting up rjght above it "Hey, you think if I made (Name) cookies, it would be easier for her to forgive me?"

"Bro, shut up"

The advanced chemistry class would start in 5 minutes, and you were nowhere to be found.

Otoya was actually nervous, though he seemed laid-back with his arms behind his head and his feet on the table.

"What if she moved classes just to be further from me?" Otoya asked Karasu, his seat partner, while nervously looking at the door "What if she moved schools?"

"Dude, stop" Karasu rolled his eyes "She's probably just running late. You more than anyone know how she's a little clumsy and likes to sleep in"

"Yeah" Otoya smiled a little "I always thought it was cute when I went to her house and she was still sleeping"

"Don't even start rambling about 'how cute she is' again. I'll actually kill myself if you do"

Just as Karasu said that, the girl Otoya was waiting for entered the classroom, looking distraught and breathing heavily. 'She probably ran all the way here' Eita thought, which made his smile stretch up a little

In a sudden moviment, Otoya removed his feet from the table, not wanting to look like a "delinquent" in front of you. He slid his hands through his hair, smelled his breath, making sure it was at least bearable, and removed some cookie crumbs from his uniform.

Just as he was about to get up and approach you, the teacher entered the classroom, shouting about some activity in page 34.

"Shit" Otoya muttered, putting his head in his hands

"It's okay, man. There's always the end of the class" Karasu patted Eita's shoulder

"Yeah. I guess you're right" Otoya sighed, grabbing his book just as the teacher asked

He couldn't care less for the class, honestly. The 1 hour period looked like it took a century to end. The clock on top of the board looked like it was staring at him, seemingly laughing and slowing tine down.

He moved his knees up and down, axiety radiating off of him in waves.

'What the heck is happening to me?' He asked himself, doodling a girl that strangely lookes like you on the side of the paper. When he realized what he did, he quickly erased it, face heating up 'I've never acted like this! Just what is she doing to me? And how to win her back...'

"Otoya" Karasu snapped him out of his thoughts, pointing to the white board. They sat near the back of the classroom, so Otoya had to squint his eyes to read what was written on the board.

There, in the chemistry teacher's ugly hand writing, he read:

CHEMISTRY PROJECT

1 WEEK TO FINISH IT

60% OF THE GRADE

"So, as I was saying" the teacher started "This is a project about Lavoisier's laws. And before you ask, it is not individual. It's gonna be in duos..."

"We should do it together" Karasu muttered as the whole class began whispering "Unless you wanna do it with her"

"As if she would let me" Otoya muttered back "But I'd like to. I'll try to talk to her"

"...and I choose the duos. No switching partners, either" the teacher ended, and the bastard looked like he was holding back a smirk

A roar of disappointed whispers could be heard from the class, including from Karasu, but Otoya was not sad in the slightest.

This was perfect. If the teacher put you both together, you couldn't complain. You couldn't switch partners. He's just gonna need a bit of luck on his side.

"I'm gonna start saying the duos now" the teacher said, grabbing a paper "Yuko and Hitoka"

He began praying. Begging for you to be his partner.

"Yumeko and Tobio"

'C'mon' he thought 'C'mon, c'mon, c'mon"

His leg was shaking. He was sweating.

"Kyoko and Tanaka"

This was it. You two were gonna be together, and you'd finally realize how he regrets his past actions.

Finally, a little bit of luck on his life. Finally, a little push. He was the world's luckiest man. He was literally the world's...

"(Name) and Karasu"

Unluckiest man.

"Ouch. I'm sorry, dude" Karasu said, with a frown.

"...what are you sorry for?" Otoya answered, snapping out of his daydream "It isn't your fault, don't worry about it. I'll just have to accept it. I'll never get her."

"Don't say that." Karasu's frown got deeper "We're gonna work something out. I promise"

Otoya sighed, and then smiled a little

"Thank you, bro. I don't even know how to pay you back for what you're doing"

"I know" Karasu said, his typical smirk appearing on his face again "A couple hundreds on my bank account would be nice"

"Dude." Otoya deadpanned, but laughed a little

On the other side of the classroom, you were relieved and panicked at the same time

Sure, you were hoping you wouldn't be partnered up with Otoya, so you were relieved. But get partnered up with his best friend? That wasn't really ideal.

Karasu was a good person, had helped you more than once and was a chemistry genius, so you were sure the project would go by smoothly and you'd get a good grade.

Still, you couldn't help but be a little bit nervous. You tried to tell yourself that it was because of the whole grade thing, but you knew it wasn't.

You heart knew. You were scared Otoya would do something. And you were even more afraid, because you knew that, if he did something, you'd most likely forgive him.

And that thought frightened you.

Whatever. You just had to put on your big girl's pants and do it.

It was easier said than done, though, when Karasu walked up to you, wanting your phone number to discuss project stuff, and Otoya trailed behind him, trying hard to talk to you and grab your attention.

It was easier said than done when, the moment you gave Karasu your number, Otoya frowned a little, clearly trying not to seem affected by it, but not enjoying it one bit.

Man this, was gonna be hard.

"Make yourself at home" Karasu said, turning on the lights of his room.

You made it clear you felt comfortable doing the work in his room, since most books and chemistry stuff were already here and you didn't want to be a burden. Still, he insisted on leaving the door open, though, just to make sure, which honestly made you more relieved.

He seemed nicer than Otoya. Taller. A little buffer, too.

So why couldn't you have fallen for him? Why did your heart earn for a cheater?

"Thank you" you answered, trying to shake your thoughts away. You were here to do the chemistry project, not to think about boys.

It was hard maintaining that philosophy when everywhere you looked, you could see photos of him and Otoya. When you saw Otoya's jacket lying around, knowing he was there before. When you saw his stupid plastic shuriken, which she he used to try to impress you one time but ended up throwing it at the old lady who lived in the house right beside your's face.

"Let's start the project, shall we?" Karasu said, smiling nervously. He noticed you were looking at Otoya's things, and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, so he tried to take your mind off of it. The last thing he needed was you thinking that he and Otoya had planned to do something while you were here. You were for sure going to hate Eita even more"

"S-sure" you flinched, hating how you stuttered and how squicky you voice came out "I mean, sure. Let's start"

Safe to say, the project went by just fine. You finished it in no time, and in 2 hours, you were both just sitting on his floor, eating blue cookies his mother made and gossiping about some school girl who apparently hooked up with a teacher.

"Man, you're cool" Karasu smiled at you, and suddenly had an idea. He mentally apologized to both you and Otoya, but this was the only way to help his friend "No wonder Otoya talks about you all of the time"

He then faked a surprised reaction, even covering his mouth with his hand and muttering "Oops"

"He... talks about me?" You repeated, trying to make sense of what he said

"All of the time" Karasu said "He talks about how nice, pretty and funny you are. I honestly can't take it anymore"

An uncomfortable silence settled in the room, and just as he was about to take what he said back, you muttered

"You're not..." you hesitated "You're not lying, are you?"

"What? No, I'm not" He said "He really likes you, you know. He even stopped going out with every girl he sees. He changed. For you"

You doubted it. Your brain told you to doubt his words, to just ignore what he said. He was probably just helping his friend, who wanted to get laid or something. Your brain told you that.

But your heart was foolish. It was dumb. And so, you couldn't help but feel flattered to hear that. You wanted to believe him.

"Excuse me" you said, suddenly getting up "I need to go to the bathroom." You needed to clear your thoughts

"Oh, sure" Karasu answered, pointing at a door that was right beside you "Right there. My room's a suite" you nodded, and began walking away "I'm sorry if I said something wrong"

"You're fine" and with that, you entered the bathroom

Karasu thought that was it. That he completely ruined his friend's chances with you, and you'd both hate him forever.

Keyword: thought. Otoya would never stop surprising him.

That's why, when Otoya entered his room running, Karasu couldn't help but let out a strained yelp

"What are you doing here?" Karasu growled, looking at his friend

"She's not here, right?" Otoya asked, looking around the room "Please tell me she's not here"

You were not dumb. Neither were you deaf. You were listening. Karasu knew you were listening.

"No." Karasu answered "No, she's not"

Now, Otoya's fate rested on his hands. He couldn't screw this up. He needed to talk about you, say what he truly thought.

Honestly, it wasn't really hard. He seemed to love talking about you

"I think I'm giving up, Tabito" Karasu knew Otoya was being serious when he called him by his first name

"Giving up on what, exactly?" Karasu said. He knew what it was, of course. It was you who needed to know it, too.

"On my dream to be a dinosaur nanny" Otoya glared at him "Of course I'm talking about (Name)!"

"But I thought you liked her?" Karasu crossed his arms, getting closer to the bathroom so you could hear the conversation easier

"I do!" Otoya shouted, and Karasu could hear your quiet gasp on the other side of the door, he just hoped Otoya couldn't hear it too "God, I like her so much. I want nothing more than to hold her hand, go on idiotic picnics with her, go skating together, gaze at the stars by her side again" Otoya passed his hand through his hair, frustrated "Do you have any idea how down bad I am? I'm listening nonstop to our shared playlist and all. I just want to at least talk to her, man!"

"And why don't you tell her that?" Karasu said, knocking quietly on the door of the bathroom. He hoped you got the memo

"Because she won't talk to me?" Otoya said in a suspecting voice "Dude, you know that. You're acting strange"

"I don't think you should worry about telling her that anymore" Karasu heard the door unlocking. He smirked, then stepped aside. "I think she already heard it"

"How do you..." Otoya started, but stopped when the door opened and he saw you "Oh."

"...hi" you muttered, averting his gaze

He was sure he was burning up, reder than a tomato, and his brain screamed for him to go dig a hole and bury himself. But he knew he couldn't.

He was gonna fix this. Right now.

"(Name)" he said, looking right at you "We need to talk"

"I'm gonna give you privacity" Karasu said, exiting the room

For a while, you both just stared at each other, uncomfortable. The tension in the room could be sliced with a knife, and you both seemed to forget how to speak.

"I'm sorry" you broke the silence, looking down "I should've given you a chance to explain yourself. It was immature of me and..."

"You're sorry?" Otoya asked, dumbfounded "No, no. You don't get to be sorry. I'm sorry." He said, getting closer "This is my fault. I shouldn't have cheated on other girls. And I couldn't hate myself more for it. You have every right to be mad at me" he hesitantly grabbed your hands, and you let him "But just know I've changed. I've changed because I like you. Really, really like you. You heard me saying it. It hurts me to see you ignoring me. It physically pains me to see you glare at me or walk the other way when you see me. It makes me hate myself. It makes me wish I could just go back in the past and beat past me up" you giggled a little, and he finally smiled softly "But a wise friend once said that we can't change the past. Nothing can. What we can do is fix the future. And, frankly, (Name), when I look into my future" he gently grabbed your chin, making you look at him "the only thing I can clearly see is you in it."

"Eita" You were sure you were tearing up at this point. Chemistry project long forgotten "I like you, too." You smiled, cupping his cheek "I've liked ever since I first saw you. I'll always like you. But I was scared. Scared that you'd break my heart. Scared that you'd hurt me" you sniffled "Everyone said I made a great choice by letting you go. But if it's the right choice, why does it feel so wrong?"

"(Name)" Otoya muttered "I love you"

"I love you too, Eita" you smiled, leaning in

When your lips were about to touch, you leaned back a little

"Promise not to hurt me?"

He looked at your eyes, and this time you knew exactly what he was thinking. His mind was full with his love for you

"Only a fool would hurt a girl like you"

You then closed the distance, ignoring Karasu's cheers and how the kiss tasted like salty tears.

Nothing mattered anymore. Only you two.

This relationship was going to work. Otoya would do everything in his power to make sure of it.

[hellsquills]

A thought: Stan wasn't a booksmart kid, but he was great at reasoning. Meaning, he wouldn't understand the usual explanations or memorize definitions, because they're just a bunch of words put together. However, some things just seemed to click for whatever reason or they would just make sense all of a sudden when he gave them some thought on his own.

This is: Stan at an art history class.

“Stanley?” “Yeah?”

“Do you think you can tell me the answer?”

“I…” I don't think I could even if I knew what you're talking about. “I didn't get the question, sorry.”

“I asked, anyone knows why art movements occur? Why does art change?”

“I mean…” Don't embarrass yourself any further. They're already laughing. “No, nothing.”

“Come on, say it.”

“No, it's stupid. I don't know.”

“Stanley, I've heard a lot of different things over the years. I doubt anything you say will be stupid.”

“Well, I'm a box of surprises, what can I say.” That's it, make them laugh at your jokes, not at you.

“I insist. Go ahead, please.”

“Fine. I mean, the way I see it, it's pretty simple, isn't it? Their parents and grandparents do things a certain way, and doing the same is just more of the same boring stuff. After a while it becomes like... imposing? And art isn't meant to be imposed, 'cause there's the fun in that? So they create something new, something that will make them stand out and as different as possible from what they know. A new style of art, or writing, or… I don't know, architecture? Whatever it is to make them free.”

“…”

“Or, I don't know, maybe they are just petty. I don't know.”

“No, Stanley, you're right. That's a perfect way of explaining it.”

“… it is?”

“Yes. Art evolves because it's creation, and creation is a living thing. Just like you kids don't dress like your parents did because you find it outdated and not personal enough, right? Art evolves because people do.”

“Right.”

“That was a brilliant explanation Stanley, congratulations.”

“T-thank you.”

Stan is wide-eyed as the teacher continues explaining something. He's awoken by his brother's elbow on his side. When he turns, Ford's eyes are shining.

“Stanley, that was amazing! You nailed it!”

“I… did?”

“Yes! She said you did great! No one was laughing, they were so impressed. And so am I, that was incredible!”

“Silence over there.”

“Sorry, miss.”

Stan feels so happy that when he goes home and Stanford tells their parents about him leaving the whole class speechless with his answer, he can't stop smiling. Not even when his father mutters something about it being a stupid art class and not something actually important. He doesn't care. His brother is impressed! What the hell!

[corkinavoid]

The Tip Of The Iceberg · Owl City

Grumpy x sunshine

Winter wonderland

DPxDC Love at Frost Sight

Jason's favorite season of the year was fall. Early fall, to be exact, when the trees become red and golden, and the air smells of pumpkin spice because of all the coffeeshops simultaneously deciding it's the time to bring it back once again, and it's not yet cold enough to wear a coat, but just cool enough to put on a comfy sweater.

On the other hand, his least favorite season was winter. All of it, starting from late November and ending in early April. His bones ached in the cold that no coat could manage to keep out, the roads were always slippery, no matter how much salt was thrown over them, and he despised the amounts of hot tea he had to drink to keep himself from freezing to death.

Not to mention the lack of sunlight, the vitamins he had to take daily, the shiver that ran down his body when he stepped out of the shower and-

"You know, if you keep frowning like that, people are going to start thinking I've brought you here under the threat of a gun."

Jason blinks and tears his gaze away from the dimly lit, snowy scenery of Robinson Park and looks to Jazz, who is walking just beside him, a steaming cup of coffee in her fingers. She looks beautiful, even wearing a puffy purple jacket that makes her look like an off-color penguin and a knitted hat that hides all her red hair.

Jason huffs and rubs his forehead, smoothing the wrinkle between his eyebrows manually.

"You still hadn't told me why are we taking a walk in the park instead of doing literally anything else," he reminds her, and Jazz smiles, holding her chin higher.

"I have my reasons," she tells, her voice full of mischief. Jason rolls his eyes and hides his freezing palms deeper in his pockets. "We're almost there, don't roll your eyes at me," Jasmine shorts a short laugh and pokes him in the side.

Almost where, he wants to ask, because he is pretty sure she can't show him anything he hasn't seen before in here. He is a Gothamite, after all, and she just moved here two years ago, and Robinson Park couldn't have changed that much since his whole dying and coming back act.

But then, Jazz finishes her coffee in a few large gulps, tossing the empty cup into the nearest bin, and takes his elbow, all but dragging him forward, off the path and into the who knows where.

Jason stumbles over his feet but catches himself quickly enough to not faceplant the snow. Yet, that doesn't help in the slightest with figuring out where they are going because, well, it's half-past-six, which means it's already rather dark around them even with all of the street lights, and Jazz can be really fast when she wants to, and-

"Here," his impossible girlfriend suddenly stops, so abruptly like she's just ran into a wall. Jason, despite all his vigilante training, is not capable of canceling the laws of inertia on command, so he takes a few more steps forward to slow down.

"And what exactly is here?" He shakes his head, trying very hard not to snap, because he is cold, and he doesn't like surprises, and Jazz can be frustrating more than she likes to admit. But, before she can answer, and before Jason is able to put all that winter irritation into words, there's a snap.

Jason turns his head sharply, looking for the source of it just out of habit.

And halts, feeling his eyes go wide and his head completely empty.

The lights appear one by one, a slow, charming process of illuminating the small clearing they've run into. Warm and fuzzy, like tiny stars, or maybe fairy lights, but with no strings to hold them, they light up the trees and the sparkling, untouched snow under their feet. Jason blinks. The sight that he's grown to associate only with those decorative glass balls full of fake snow doesn't shatter.

And, to be fair, Jason knew winter could be beautiful - he's seen countless pictures and movies, and he understood the appeal it had on some people. But he's never really felt it, what with winters in Gotham, even at Christmas Eve, being more glum and gray than sparkling white and twinkling pretty.

But this is exactly that.

The tall trees covered in white snow, the gentle fall of snowflakes over them, the bright yellow lights that surround them.

"Close your mouth, love, you'll catch a cold," he hears Jazz say with a fond, soft laugh, and only then he realizes he is gaping.

His mouth closes back with a snap as he turns to face his girlfriend.

"How did you..." he trails off, not even sure what he's asking. How did she bring a fairytale into life? How did she find this place? How did she manage to bring him here?..

Jazz's teal eyes hold the reflections of countless warm lights around them, and she is grinning from ear to ear, her hand finding Jason's to intertwine their fingers.

"Danny helped," she admits, "But I just wanted you to see it. See why I love winter - not just because my brother is a living icicle, but because winter is magic, in a sense. It's only in winter that you can feel what's really warm and what's not."

Jason has half of a thought to ask her what she means, but he gets it just a moment before the words fall out of his mouth.

Because this, standing in the silent snowfall among the tiny lights of miniature stars, holding Jazz's hand in his, is warm. Not in a literal sense - his skin is still moments away from freezing - but something inside his chest feels like a tiny, flickering flame.

And that flame makes him smile.

"It's very pretty," he says, not taking his eyes off Jazz, and watches her cheeks become pink.

Somehow, he is certain it's not because of the cold.

~•~•~•~

This was written to not one but two Owl City songs. The first one was, as requested, 'The Tip of The Iceberg', and the second was 'Peppermint Winter', my all-time favorite winter song.

And here's the additional aesthetic!

Danny, who is responsible for the gently falling snowflakes and keeping the lights from going out, sitting invisible in a tree above them: what great lengths do I go for you, Jazz, you better get me something nice for Christmas or I swear to Ancients-

[cosmowgyral]

Falling into Sin with the Black Tiger ~ Gilbert's 4th Birthday

▪︎ Chapter 1

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

CW- smut, mentions of blood

As the end of the year approached, a significant day was about to arrive.

Gilbert: What do I want to do?

Emma: That’s right. Can you please tell me anything?

I was sitting on my knees on the bed, wiping Gilbert’s hair with linen after his bath.

I wanted to give the impression that I was only casually probing….at least that’s what I thought.

Gilbert: Hehe, you’re a man of your word, that’s impressive, isn’t it?

Gilbert: You’re celebrating me again this year.

(I was found out in an instant.)

Emma: I promised you last year.

----*flashback*----

Emma: I’ll definitely celebrate with you again next year.

Gilbert: Hehe, I get it. As long as you’re you, I’ll celebrate.

----*flashback ends*----

Emma: I think it’s going to be an annual event from now on.

Gilbert: Ahaha, I never thought you would say something like that after I came home covered in blood.

(….I guess it wasn’t just my imagination after all.)

A little while ago, when Gilbert returned, he smelled of blood and gunpowder.

There were no visible bloodstains because his clothes were all black, but that couldn’t fool my nose, which has become capable of detecting such ominous scents.

(Gilbert always warns me.)

(So I don’t commit a sin unconsciously.)

Emma: …I always think about it.

Emma: Every time you come home covered in blood, I feel glad that you are safe.

Emma: ….I think about that before I even start thinking about whose blood you shed.

(Controlling evil with evil. I understand that this is Prince Gilbert’s way….)

(And yet, I pray every single day for his safety.)

Gilbert: Hehe, sorry. I was being mean again. I was just happy to be celebrated by you.

Gilbert, who had been facing forward, turned around and kissed me lightly on my cheeks.

Gilbert: I won’t say it again.

Gilbert: But I think asking me about what I want to do is stupid.

Gilbert: I love you a lot, so just being able to be with you like this fulfills most of my wishes.

Emma: Please be more greedy and villainous.

Gilbert: Am I not greedy enough?

Emma: It’s not enough at all. I want you to wish for something that’s different than usual since it’s a special day.

Gilbert: ..mmmm…

Gilbert: ….I feel like I’m facing the biggest challenge of my life.

(Is it that much!?)

Gilbert, while groaning as if in deep thought, wraps his hand around my head and gently pulls me closer.

He playfully pecks my lips several times, and before I knew it, I was pushed down onto the bed.

(…..Huh?)

Gilbert: What’s wrong?

Even though his words sound thoughtful, Gilbert pulls down my negligee and kisses my exposed skin, and I don’t get an answer to my question.

Emma: A..are you really thinking about it?

Gilbert: I am thinking about it. I am thinking about it harder than ever.

Gilbert: Are you questioning my sincerity, little rabbit? That’s cruel.

Gilbert smiles as he gently bites my collarbone. My breasts are played with by the tip of his tongue, and my hot and sweet breaths, melt away.

Gilbert: What do I really want?

(Maybe Gilbert isn’t used to these kind of things.)

When I touch his slightly damp hair, he snuggles up to me, like he wants to be petted.

I get carried away and ruffle his hair, and then our lips meet again.

(…Let’s wait patiently.)

(There’s still a lot of things to do for the day.)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ𔘓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

In Obsidian, which is known as the land of minerals, gems can be found all over the city.

There seems to be a particularly strong sales campaign going on before Christmas, with special stalls lined up before the stores.

In Rhodolite, gemstones are something that only the aristocratic people have access to. But here, they are familiar to all the people, regardless of their social status.

(This is troublesome….)

(I wanted to give Gilbert some stones, but with this many varieties it is difficult.)

To Gilbert, who is a member of the royal family, jewels are not valuable at all.

However, he had told me about it some time back, on my birthday.

In Obsidian, it is customary to gift jewels on special occasions. The more loved you are, the more jewels you’ll have around you in your final moments.

(I’m the only one who can gift a jewel to Gilbert.)

(I’ve decided that I will definitely give this to him, regardless of his wishes.)

(…..I did decide that but…..)

Sapphires, topaz, diamonds, rubies, emeralds….

Even when I look at these beautiful gemstones, I can’t find anything I associate with Gilbert.

(Rather than worrying about it alone, I should ask an expert. Maybe they can give me some advice.)

Emma: Excuse me. I’m looking for a birthday gift and I want to know what’s popular right now.

Jeweller: Oh, in that case----

Jeweller: ….ngh…

(……)

(….I’ve gotten used to this reaction.)

The pale eyes of the jeweller stare deep into mine.

He might be sensing an unusual murderous intent.

Emma: …..I’m sorry. I’ll think about it myself.

I quickly left the store and went down an unseen ally.

Emma: Gil, are you there?

Gilbert: Ahaha, I was found right away.

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

[tinytinyblogs]

Can you write something for yandere!skz where they are the reader best friend and they find her going on a date or texting / hanging with another guy? They love her romantically, it's just they're not dating because you know ... friendzone lol

You Don't Need Anyone Else But Me

They wouldn't allow you to think of them as just a friend or let anyone else have you.

Hyung line, Maknae line (coming soon)

💬 I’m posting this a bit late, and realizing it’s the last story I’ll share in 2024, I just want to say thank you once again for all the requests and feedback—your support means so much!

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Chan noticed you texting someone else, and though his expression remained calm, a storm was brewing behind his composed demeanor. He didn’t say anything at first, simply watching out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t like you were hiding it, but that didn’t make it any easier for him. Every time he saw you typing away with a soft smile or noticed the screen lighting up with another notification, his chest tightened. He kept his distance, but inside, his mind was racing. At first, he convinced himself it wasn’t worth reacting to. You had your own life, your own friends, and he didn’t want to seem possessive—at least not openly. But he couldn’t resist the temptation to look over your shoulder when he thought you weren’t paying attention or find a reason to glance at your phone when you set it down. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him, and he found a way to monitor your texts without you noticing. Each message he read felt like a dagger to his chest. The casual words, the emojis, the tone—he hated all of it. His fingers curled tightly around his own phone, the plastic creaking under the pressure. More than once, he had to stop himself from smashing it out of sheer frustration.

After days of silent agony, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. One evening, as you sat on the couch scrolling through your messages, he leaned over casually, his tone light and conversational. “Who’s that?” he asked, keeping his voice steady despite the tension in his chest. You glanced up briefly, not thinking much of the question. “Just a friend,” you replied with a small shrug before returning your attention to the screen. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he nodded. “Just a friend, huh?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. Even if that was the truth, the idea of you giving anyone else your time, your attention, made his blood boil. For a moment, he just sat there, watching you text, his jaw tightening. The room felt heavier, the air more charged. Finally, his voice broke the silence again, low and calm but carrying an unsettling weight. “So... what are we?” You paused, looking up at him in confusion. “Friends,” you said simply, offering another nonchalant shrug before returning to your phone. That was the final straw.

The second you glanced back at the screen, he moved. In one swift motion, he snatched the phone from your hands and hurled it across the room. The sharp sound of it colliding with the wall echoed, followed by the unmistakable crunch of plastic and glass shattering. You stared in stunned silence as the remnants of your phone clattered to the floor. When you looked back at him, his expression had shifted entirely. His usual warmth was gone, replaced by a cold, unyielding intensity. “Wrong answer, darling,” he said, his voice low and dripping with menace. There was a dangerous edge to his tone that sent a shiver down your spine. Slowly, he stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours, daring you to look away. He leaned in slightly, his lips curling into a faint, almost mocking smile. “Try again,” he demanded, his voice soft but laced with a threat. “What are we?” The room was utterly silent, the weight of his presence pressing down on you as you struggled to find your voice. The person standing before you was no longer the kind, reassuring Chan you thought you knew—this was someone who would do anything to keep you by his side, no matter the cost.

Minho

Minho’s sharp eyes flicker to your phone as you type away, completely engrossed in your conversation. The soft smile playing on your lips as you stare at the screen makes his chest tighten, though he doesn’t let it show. He remains composed, calm, and collected, his expression betraying nothing. Silently, he observes, pretending not to care. You don’t even notice the way his sharp gaze traces every movement, catching the name and bits of the chat whenever the screen lights up. For Minho, life is meant to be orderly, controlled, and simple. He doesn’t like unnecessary complications or disruptions, and right now, this person you’re texting is an unwelcome disturbance. It’s not jealousy—at least, not in the way most people would understand it. To him, it’s about maintaining balance and control. A smile flickers on his lips, but it isn’t a warm or reassuring smile. It’s calculated, knowing. You think he’ll just let it go, that he’ll sit idly by while you let someone else occupy your attention? That’s cute. But Minho doesn’t tolerate things—or people—that threaten the order of his carefully constructed world. And in that world, you belong to him. He lets you enjoy your little conversation for now, even playing along with your obliviousness.

He pretends not to notice as you giggle softly at the messages, but in his mind, he’s already made his decision. He’ll deal with it, efficiently and thoroughly. He’s not the type to create unnecessary drama, but when the time comes, he knows exactly how to make sure this “friendship” of yours is dealt with. The next day, your texting buddy gets an unexpected visitor. Minho arrives at their door, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable. The slight curve of his lips might be mistaken for friendliness at first glance, but there’s something off about it, something chilling. His voice is calm, polite even, as he speaks to them, but there’s an unspoken warning in every word. The intensity in his gaze leaves no room for misunderstanding. By the time Minho leaves, the person knows better than to contact you again. Whatever charm or quiet menace he uses to mask his darker intentions, it’s devastatingly effective. Meanwhile, you remain oblivious, sitting with your phone later that evening, confused. The texts have stopped. No replies, no notifications. You’re left staring at the empty screen, wondering what went wrong. That’s when Minho makes his move. He doesn’t say a word at first, just silently watching as you frown at your phone. Then, like a shadow, he steps behind you, his presence looming but quiet. When you finally turn around, startled by the intensity of his closeness, he traps you in place.

His arms cage you against the nearest surface, leaving no room for escape. His face is close, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath. His dark eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. His slight smirk sends a chill down your spine, a perfect balance of amusement and something much darker. “He’s not worth waiting for,” Minho murmurs, his voice low and steady. The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, sending a shiver through you. “Why can’t you see that I’m always here for you?” There’s a softness in his tone, but it’s deceptive. Beneath the surface, there’s an unyielding finality, a truth that you can’t ignore. The way he looks at you, as if you’re the only thing in his world, is overwhelming. You try to process his words, but the sheer force of his presence makes it hard to think straight. His closeness, the intensity of his gaze—it’s all too much. Minho tilts his head slightly, studying your expression with quiet amusement. “You don’t need anyone else,” he continues, his voice soft yet firm. “I’ll take care of everything, so you don’t have to.” The tension in the air is suffocating, the unspoken truth in his words impossible to ignore. There’s no escape from him—not that he would let you go anyway. To him, you’re the center of his carefully constructed world, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

Changbin

Changbin’s behavior has taken a noticeable turn lately. At first, it was subtle—him sitting closer than usual, always leaning in to hear your thoughts or opinions, and laughing as he playfully took your phone out of your hands. It seemed harmless at first, just him being his usual teasing self. But over time, the teasing became more frequent, and his hold on your attention grew tighter. He’s constantly hovering now, his presence impossible to ignore. Every notification from your phone earns a sharp glance from him, his eyes darting to the screen before you can even react. You notice the way his body tenses slightly at the sound, his jaw tightening before he schools his features back into a grin. “Who is it?” he’d ask casually, though his tone always carries a subtle edge. If you hesitate to answer, he doesn’t push too hard, but you can feel the weight of his stare. More often than not, he’ll find a way to redirect your focus back to him, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes your phone, tossing it onto the couch or placing it somewhere out of reach. “You don’t need that right now,” he’d say with a laugh. “I’m way more fun, aren’t I?”

Sometimes, you catch him staring—not at you, but at your phone—with an expression you can’t quite read. It’s not jealousy, not entirely, but something more possessive, more calculating. His demeanor shifts whenever a message comes in, his eyes narrowing slightly before he shakes it off with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. What you don’t know is that Changbin has been working behind the scenes, his determination taking him down a path you wouldn’t have imagined. Step by step, he’s piecing together information about the person you’ve been texting. A quick glance at your screen here, a casual question there—it’s all he needs to get their number. When he finally gets it, it feels like a small victory, the first step in his carefully crafted plan. He doesn’t waste time. Behind your back, he initiates contact, his tone friendly but firm as he makes his intentions clear to this person. The conversations are short, but Changbin’s words have an impact. Slowly but surely, your messages from this person become less frequent, their replies shorter and more distant until, eventually, they stop altogether. You notice the change, confused by the sudden silence from someone you used to talk to so often.

“Weird,” you mutter to yourself, but Changbin only smiles, his expression smug yet unreadable. To him, this is a victory—a testament to his persistence and the lengths he’s willing to go to for you. “Why? You no longer texting anyone?” he asks one day, his voice light but laced with satisfaction. He steps closer, his fingers reaching out to gently tilt your chin so you’re looking directly at him. “I told you they don’t know you as well as I do.” There’s something both comforting and unsettling in his gaze, the way his dark eyes seem to see right through you. His thumb brushes against your cheek in a gesture so tender it sends shivers down your spine. “And for me,” he continues, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone, “I care for you the most. More than I probably should.” His words linger in the air, heavy with meaning, as his hand caresses your cheek with a touch so gentle it’s almost disarming. You try to focus on his words, but it’s hard when his gaze is so intense, so unwavering. The weight of his presence feels suffocating, yet there’s an undeniable pull, as though his world is the only place you should be. Changbin isn’t just pulling you closer physically—he’s drawing you into his world, a place where he’s the only one who truly understands and cares for you.

Hyunjin

Everything spiraled when Hyunjin discovered you were texting someone else. At first, it was disbelief—a quiet, unsettling pang in his chest that grew heavier with each passing second. But the true blow came when he realized you didn’t see him as anything more than a friend. His carefully constructed fantasy of you and him felt like it was falling apart. Hyunjin wasn’t one to let it end there. His mind raced, desperately piecing together a way to reclaim what he believed was his. He couldn’t accept this reality, so he decided to bend it to his will. Each step was carefully calculated, his determination unwavering. Getting rid of that person you were texting wasn’t just an idea—it became his mission. He didn’t rely on obvious tactics like scaring them away; no, that would’ve been too crude. Instead, he crafted a more subtle, insidious plan, weaving a web of lies designed to trap you. Hyunjin’s natural charisma made it easy to spread rumors. Fabricated stories about this person’s character found their way to your ears, whispered through mutual acquaintances and amplified by the people around you. He planted seeds of doubt, ensuring that even your friends began to echo his concerns.

The world started to feel unsafe, untrustworthy—except for him. When you finally asked him about what you’d heard, his response was heartbreakingly vulnerable. His soft eyes brimmed with concern, his voice trembling just enough to tug at your heartstrings. “I don’t want you to get hurt by the wrong person,” he whispered, his tone so genuine it was impossible to ignore. “They’re not good for you. Please, believe me.” Hyunjin was a master manipulator, wielding his vulnerability like a weapon. He knew exactly how to guilt-trip you, how to make you question your own instincts. His innocent façade was so convincing that even you, who thought you knew him well, couldn’t see through it. Over time, the person you were texting began to pull away. Their messages grew infrequent, distant, until one day, they stopped entirely. You didn’t understand why—until you began to notice how others talked about them. The judgment in their voices mirrored everything Hyunjin had warned you about, reinforcing his narrative. Confused and hurt, you turned to Hyunjin for comfort. “I warned you,” he murmured, his hands gentle as they reached for yours. “I just want to protect you.” His words felt like a balm, his gaze filled with a mix of tenderness and quiet triumph.

Little by little, you started to rely on him more. The walls he built around you didn’t feel like a trap—they felt like a safe haven. His presence was comforting, his attention all-encompassing. And just as he’d planned, you began to see him differently—not just as a friend, but as something more. “Promise me,” he whispered one evening, his voice low and filled with quiet desperation. “Promise you’ll always be here for me.” His eyes searched yours, and without hesitation, you nodded, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. “I promise.” That was all he needed. Hyunjin’s lips curved into a soft smile, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Good,” he said, his voice soothing, almost hypnotic. “Because I’ll always be here for you, too. I’ll protect you from everything—even yourself, if I have to.” You didn’t realize it then, but you’d walked straight into his trap. The doubts, the rumors, the guilt—it had all been part of his carefully laid plan to bring you closer to him. Now, with you by his side, Hyunjin made it his mission to ensure you’d never leave. He didn’t just want you to love him—he wanted you to believe you couldn’t exist without him. To him, this was how it was always meant to be.