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euon111a · 2 months ago

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B L O O D L U S T: THE OTHER SIDE

summary: this is the second and last part to Bloodlust, the first part is here.

warnings: themes of violence, death, vampirism, supernatural elements, voodoo/occult themes, mentions of forest sex, light biting, more choking, spitting, fingering (f!receive), power dynamics, dark romanticism, toxic relationship-ish (like barely), piv, barebacking, oral (f!receive), dry humping, slapping, slight masochism, body worship (f!receive/giving), munch remmick

w/c: 8.8k

notes: first, thank you so much for the support on the first part, i deadass thought this would flop. the first part of bloodlust was actually so rough imo, it felt very PG, but I had to post it to get this in, bc i couldn’t force fit this part into one post. so sorry this took so long. i saw this tiktok of munch!remmick and wanted to incorporate him into this, hence the warnings. i know it’s in past tense, and i know some parts are super rushed. i kinda got writer’s block so trust the process. i’ll try to post more consistently, im feigning for smoke so maybe ill do something there, in the mean time, if y’all have any ideas plspls let me know. this part is actually kinda proofread (i read it once), and it’s meant to be read as a memory, not in the present tense. again, no use of y/n, in second pov and afab reader. (this was also supposed to be out last week..but i had finals, and i was kinda procrastinating... enjoy.)

All you could feel was weight.

Heavy.

Unbearable.

Like you weren’t actually you. Your body wasn’t yours. Everything was sitting wrong. Your bones, your breath, that stretch of muscle that was a little too sharp, too tight, as if your own body was rejecting itself.

It was slow at first. Then, too fast. Every sense in you was clawing at each other, fighting each other for dominance. Everything was sharp, violent, torturous, maddening, excruciating. Every breath you took was ragged. Every noise from miles around you was picked up like it was instantly magnetized to your ears. The air itself was heavy. Not cold, or crisp, or dense with that moisture that was always stuck to it, but pressed into your lungs with each labored breath until you just couldn’t breathe anymore.

Everything was peaceful for a moment.

Almost serene.

And just when you swore you saw that bright light, that faint hum and the warmth of someone reaching out to you. Something snapped into place.

Something new.

Your eyes snapped open like you were woken up from a nightmare, as if your mind was dragging behind you. Every thought in your mind was waking up slow, even when your body was already pushing up away from the arm rest you were propped up against.

You had gotten used to the feeling of your body not moving like you wanted it to, your Gramma told you it was normal, that it was the spirits speaking for you. But now, it felt different. Everything was sitting wrong, moving wrong, acting wrong. Like movement itself didn’t belong to you anymore.

Your senses were on overdrive. The world wasn’t coming to you slowly, it was forcing itself onto you. Stretching out thin, pressing down too heavy until you were forced to go with it.

Sound was too clear. Light was too bright, harsh in the way the sun peeks through the window in the morning before you’ve got the time to adjust to it. Every shift of the wind, every scrape of movement against the floor amplified, like the earth was demanding your attention.

Everything was distorted.

Transformed.

Almost disconnected. Like you were awake, but in this prolonged state of blur. Your body was all too aware of every sound, of every movement. Especially that empty pit in your stomach that settled like dust on shelves. It was like every aspect of who you were was alive, buzzing into each other until they were one blob of energy.

Every emotion was happening at the same time. Sadness. Happiness. Despair. Unease. Unsteadiness. Anger. And not that simple kind of anger when you don’t get your way, but something deeper. Louder. Instincts fighting against logic. Everything heightened before they can adjust. Like you were stripped of your skin and your clothes and placed into something new, something that wasn’t you.

Then there was that first moment of realization, of finally knowing nothing is the same, of knowing there’s no undoing it, there’s no changing it. This had to be, even if you were in denial of it.

You hadn’t caught it at first, not until you felt it. That hunger. It was insufferable.

The weight of emptiness pressing into your stomach, heavy into your chest. Not craving, or yearning, but need. Something that was written into your body before your mind could catch up to it.

That struggle between control and impulse, like the body wants things the mind ain’t willing to accept yet.

The subconscious fight against denial, because you can’t really deny it, not with how everything feels.

You hated him.

Couldn’t believe him.

Couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he actually did it.

Didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t give you time to process, to fight, to breathe. He just took. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was meant to fucking happen.

You didn’t think it’d happen.

Didn’t think it’d happen like this. Right now. Right here.

Honestly, you weren’t sure what you were thinking.

Maybe you wasn’t thinking.

Maybe this wasn’t what you thought would happen.

Maybe you’d expected the same damn thing Gramma did to get that scar on her arm—expected pain, expected survival, expected a wound that would heal slow but steady. She never told you what happened, but you could assume how she got it. It wasn’t meant to be like this.

Not this.

Not by him.

Not this fear pressing against your ribs like it’s fighting for space between what used to be there and what is now.

Not this hunger. The deep, clawing of something born from the absence of what used to sustain you.

Were you meant to just… die?

Did Gramma know?

Would she know?

Would she cry?

Would she be angry?

Would this hunger go away?

Is this normal?

The world wasn’t the same.

You weren’t the same.

And nothing about this felt normal, but normal didn’t belong to you anymore. It was forever different.

You could feel the steady beat of your pulse slowing, and then stopping, like the body couldn’t handle trying to keep itself alive before altering into something new.

You could physically feel the heat fading from you, the absence, the shiver, the cold. The same kind of lack of warmth you’d get from waking up in the middle of the night from one of your dreams.

With each sharp breath, the slight wetness in the back of your throat, dragging in too much air, like your lungs ain’t sure if they had gotten enough, you could feel it. That tension in your muscles, bracing for something that was coming too fast and too slow.

It wasn’t all at once not like how you thought it’d be. It was gradual, overwhelming, like your senses were set on overdrive. The light burning too bright even after you blinked to try to get used to it, the sound stretching too far, the pain in your neck getting so damn awful you thought you was gonna pass out.

Everything that once felt normal felt strange, you didn’t like the warmth of the candles by the windowsill, or the heat of the fireplace even though it did nothing to warm you up. It was like your body remembered the old rhythm of life how it was before, but refused to follow it anymore. Decided on its own that it was time for a change.

And then you breathed again, not with your eyes closed or the labored breathing right before what was meant to be your eternal rest. But the first inhale, sharp, deep, pulling in air too fast, too much, like your lungs were resetting to accustom to the unknown change, but they didn’t need to.

He had reassured you nonstop when you opened your eyes, when you looked around the quiet living room, when you subconsciously looked around for Gramma but couldn’t find her. Irritatingly enough, he hadn’t left you alone, kept by your side, even though you knew you needed that. Needed that companionship. Even if he was the motherfucker who was putting you through this. Said you didn’t have to like it, but that he’d teach you. Promised you he wouldn’t let you fall apart so long as you trust him.

And you did. Almost.

Your body did. Too quick, too obedient, like your body and your mind weren’t one. Your mind wasn’t in control anymore. Not like it was meant to be.

The first actually movement was slow at first, then too quick, like the idea of control was stuck between struggling, hesitating and this weird newfound strength. You was already moving away from the couch, trying to look out the window for any sign of Gramma.

But the awareness was creeping in. She was gone, he was here, you were new. Renewed. Reborn. Reconstructed to where every step you took set every muscles and nerve in your body on fire. Where you could feel the energy of the air around you, could feel the bend of light even before you turn to look at it.

“I’m hungry.” That was the first thing you’d said. Not that you were in pain, or that you could feel and taste every color around you. But that you were hungry. It came out like it wasn’t a thought, it’s just the truth, just weight in your stomach, just something that won’t fade even after you’ve tried to ignore the rumble the first time.

Tears should have come, but it didn’t feel right. It couldn’t. It wouldn’t be grief, wouldn’t be relief, or sorrow or sadness, wouldn’t be human anymore.

Hell you tried. Tried to feel the tightness in your chest and the water in your eyes, but it just don’t sit the same. Don’t feel like it used to, don’t carry warmth, or that feeling of loss the way it did before.

It was emotion wasn’t fading, just sitting in the back of your mind. Like something was missing, and it wasn’t the heartbeat, but the warmth, the feeling behind the tears and emotions.

He didn’t reach out, or react like that attempt to grief was something that needed soothing. He just watched, kept silent and close, just waiting for you to process it on your own. He didn’t even apologize for what he done, no regret, or guilt or shame. Nothing. This wasn’t about regret, this was about survival, about transformation.

“Tears don’t change what’s already done.” Not dismissively, just truth.

He stays. No leaving, no retreating, just staying close, making sure you knew you ain’t alone.

And then a glance, lingering and unreadable. Not pity, or discomfort, just observation. A mutual understanding.

Another shift closer, small, steady, calculated. Not pushing, just anchoring, just making sure you had felt something solid nearby. Making sure you felt the weight of his presence. Not overbearing, not suffocating, just there. Undeniable.

A hand near, but not touching. Like the choice was yours if you needed some kind of comfort, but far enough to let you know that he ain’t reaching unless you actually need it.

Let you have the space you needed to come to terms with the reality without total isolation. Looks that were silent and unspoken but had some understanding to them. Something that didn’t need to be spoken and didn’t need details.

But that hunger hit deep, pushing past every other thought.

You fought against it, refused to give into what you so desperately craved, because giving into that burning would only mean acceptance to what you’ve been forced to become.

He stayed close that weekend, said the same shit Gramma told you about staying indoors for the weekend. Told you the first few nights aren’t about freedom, they’re about regaining control, and he made it clear he was gonna to stay real close regardless of what you said.

You started noticing the shifts later that night. Some sense of strength settling into your limbs, senses stretching too far just for instincts to be pressing in.

Gramma never came back. Never showed up to guide you through this. Was never close enough to get a good whiff of the cinnamon that always followed her. Remmick refused to let you leave when it was safe, said the first real test would come. Not a test of smarts or endurance, but a test of strength and restraint, navigating who you were now.

“As long as it takes.” That’s what he said. Though you kinda expected it to be faster, to feel shorter. Wasn’t minutes that passed by. Wasn’t hours or days. It was until he decided you were completely stabilized. Until you learned the world know, until you were ready to walk on your own without breaking at every distraction.

You didn’t get a choice, no matter how much you insisted. No matter how much you sore yo and down that you were ready, because he claimed that throwing you back into your normal routine without understanding meant disaster.

Days, maybe weeks, shy of just two months. Or that’s what it felt like. You pushed past the time, fought fast, accepted fast, stopped denying the inevitable just to feel freedom again.

You couldn’t even leave even if you wanted to. You tried. He didn’t go looking for you in the night, you had already found your way back like your body was tugging you back to him before you got too far. You tried again, and once more just for confirmation, just to get right back in the damn house.

It was the same five steps every night as soon as the sun hide behind the horizon. Listen. Watch. Wait. Control. Eat. Only ‘cause he said surviving ain’t just about feeding, it’s about knowing when to hold back. That you was still unstable, too predictable, had to learn first hand from him.

He said he knew all about that first acceptance, and the hunger that forced its way through. And you learned real quick, even if you didn’t want to.

It was anger at first, then resistance again, fighting against the change that already happened, and just before you could do anything about the own emotional rollercoaster you were going through, there was hunger again. Aching, and sore and undeniable in a way you can’t ignore it, no matter how hard you tried.

Over and over again. The constant fighting, the constant tearing, the denial, the feeding. All one endless cycle for days.

Then finally. Forced acceptance, not acceptance in a way to make peace with what’s happened. Not relief of what was the past and what’s to come in the future, but just submission. Knowing there’s no turning back.

Then the lessons of control. The relearning of who you were, who you are, who you will be. The tests to make sure you didn’t snap tin early or too late. Tests to make sure you knew what you were now. Not human. Not alive. Not dead. Just there.

That night, things got heated. You were angry, upset, emotional and alone. He kept pushing and pushing, but you just snapped. Told him you hated him, said you wanted nothing to do with him.

He didn’t argue, maybe because the two of you both knew hate don’t change reality in situations like this.

He didn’t apologize, still hadn’t regretted what he did.

He just watched, not unsettled, or annoyed or shocked by your actions. He was just waiting for you, you wasn’t sure if he was waiting for you to realize that anger wouldn’t undo anything or if he was just waiting for you to act on your emotions.

“Hate me all you want. It won’t change what you are. You’ll come to terms with it eventually.” He said it so casually, so calmly, like he was completely brushing off the emotions you were feeling. It was as if the past don’t matter anymore. Who you were back then don’t matter to who you are now. Like what he said was just facts, and that you had no room to feel anything. He all but threw it in your face, mocked you for your stupidity and looked at you in a way that said that you can fight all you want, but reality won’t change.

You wasn’t sure what happened. You hadn’t hesitated, or even considered to think about what you were going to do. Something just sparked through you. Anger, rage, hurt, frustration. You should’ve hesitated, but for once, your mind moved for you, your hand moving in sync with every thought in your head. Fueled only by the sheer force of your emotions, your hand met the side of his face, and Lord did it feel so good. It was something indescribable, like a weight had been lifted from you and this feeling of euphoric relief was replaced. The slap rang out, sharp and echoing like a gunshot in the pure silence of the air between you.

That momentary bliss was short lived.

The sound of your palm striking his cheek bounced across the room in a way that was physically hurting you. He didn't even move, didn't lean back to avoid your hand, didn't attempt to stop you with a single word of warning. He just watched you. Observing the wave of emotions that flickered across your face at the sheer stupidity of your own actions.

You felt the urge to step forward, to reach out and plead for forgiveness, to beg for his understanding and mercy in the face of your lack of control. The impulse was a reflex, an instinct grown by the difficulties of the turn that had long since been established between you. You were worried you’d upset him, crossed some kind of boundary, angered him enough to the point that silence was the only answer. His gaze never wavered, as if daring you to make the connection, to give voice to the apology hovering on the tip of your tongue.

Yet, even as the words formed in your mind, you hesitated. Something in his eyes made you pause, a flicker of uncertainty that made you question the wisdom of ceding to your first impulsive urge. His silence, his stillness, his unwavering focus on your face. It was a challenge, a test, a silent demand for you to confront the truth of your own thoughts and the pull of your body.

“Do it again.” That was all he said. Three words. He wasn’t upset, or annoyed or irritated. Said it like nothing. Like you was having a normal conversation and like you hadn’t just smacked him. You wasn’t sure if he was provoking you to fuck up again, or if he was mocking you, hell it might’ve been both, but before you could even move he was grabbing your wrist.

His hand moved with a speed that went against his composed stature. His fingers wrapped around your wrist in a grip that would have been painful if you were able to feel past the constant dullness of your own body. He forced you forward, the brisk, sudden force of his action sending a hot bolt of electricity jolting up through your arm. It went up the expanse of your shoulder, down the length of your spine, until it stopped right at the base of your back just to erupt in a burst of uncomfortable energy. Your feet naturally stumbled, your body hitching forward as he dragged you closer to him, though you wasn’t sure if he was guiding you to him or forcing you to his side.

Up close, you could see the faint pinkness of your palm imprinted to the side of his face. The skin of his cheekbone was still flushed and tingling from the force of your petty slap. His eyes, when you finally looked up to met his, glowed with this unreadable emotion that had your breath stuck in your throat. And while you normally had a hard time figuring him out and figuring out what he was feeling or thinking, that look in his eyes had you hesitating. Not from fear or worry or anxiety, even if you tried to convince yourself that had to be what you were feeling, you were just quiet. You tried to speak, tried to move, but you couldn’t, it was like your body wouldn’t listen to your mind. Didn’t want to listen to your mind repeating over and over for you to say something, to just apologize so he wouldn’t look at you like he wanted to eat you. Again.

And then his hand was connecting with the side of your face, mirroring the same way you’d hit him. It stung, you didn’t think you’d feel pain, but you did. Knocked all sense outta you, damn near winded you just from shock alone. But before you could say anything on it, he was gripping you by the side of your jaw, tilting your head up to bring your face towards the dark hallway beside you. The slap hadn't hurt much after you regained your thoughts. Wasn’t even as hard as you knew it should have been, not really. It was more of a surprise than anything else, a jolt that set your nerves alight with a fleeting sting. The same shock you had endured when he bit you the first time.

It was a lesson, some means to keep you in your place, and for a moment you’d thought about mocking his strength, just to try to get the last word. But then his hand moved down your throat, the base of his palm directly pressing against your windpipe, tightening around your throat. Slowly squeezing with a gradual force that made your lungs burn for air. The lack of oxygen began to take its toll, your lungs burning for air as black spots danced at the edges of your vision. A strange sense of detachment crept over you, your mind hazing and blurring as the world seemed to slip away, fading into a distant, muffled obscurity.

For a moment, you’d thought he’d do it. Kill you again. If you can even kill someone who’s already dead, but then he dragged his hand away from your throat and along the curve of your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss on the base of your head in some way to bring you back to consciousness. You should’ve pushed him away, maybe you should’ve tried running, tried looking for Gramma, but you didn’t. Maybe that’s what changed everything.

"I see why Juju likes you so much,” he slowly leaned his head down towards the bite he gave you, though it felt so long ago. It had healed nicely, or that’s what he had said last night, reassured you that you wouldn’t feel it in a weeks time and that he’d make up for biting you the way he did. “You just let people do whatever they want,” He ran his finger along the mark, sending some odd jolt of tingling through your neck before he was placing a light kiss on it. You could already feel that damn smirk on his lips as you tried to lean back against the sturdiness of the wall behind you. "I haven’t even touched you and you’re already burning up."

“I ain’t mean to hit you.” He leaned back at that, giving you a look before letting his eyes slide down along your body. His hand slid along to the back of your neck to gently guide yourself back towards the wall. He ran his other hand down along the curve of your ribs, gently spreading his fingers out to feel the expansion of your muscles as you took in deep breaths.

“Then why’d you do it?” You weren’t sure why. You wished you could explain that. Explain that you just wanted to, felt like it, you probably needed to. Probably needed some sort of physical touch or some proof to help you understand and cope with this whole fucked up situation. He shifted back against you, one hand resting on the small of your back as he pressed himself up onto you until you was sure he had put all his weight behind his touch. His hand dragged down against your stomach, sliding along the curve of your waist to guide itself to the base of your spine. His thumb lightly ran along the fabric of your shirt, inching down just ever so slightly until the tips of his fingers reached the hemming of your clothes. “I’m not mad Junebug, but can’t start nothing you ain’t intend to finish, hmm?”

You wish it was difficult to remember how it happened the first time. You wished you hadn’t remembered that night. The cool of the bed sheets against your skin as he prompted himself over you, guiding your legs to spread apart as his mouth was latched onto your throat. Biting, sucking, licking, kissing. You wished you didn’t remember the feel of him between your legs, his hips rolling and pushing against yours, his tongue tracing the wound he gave you. His hands roaming further and further down until his fingers were gently pulling at your panties to the side just enough to expose you.

You’d be lying if you said you regretted it, lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of it. Lying if you said you didn’t like the feeling of his hands against you, caressing and molding against the curves of your body. His fingers pressing, nudging and spreading your lips apart just to force their way into your mouth. You relived that moment over and over again, the sound of his whispers against your ear, praising you for how well you were taking his fingers into your mouth.

The persistent feeling of him pressed up against your leg. That painful stretch of him sliding two fingers into you as he kissed anywhere his lips could reach. Thrusting those two fingers inside you in a way that burned and had you shifting under him, as he fucked them in and out of you so slow and deep. The way you were damn bear seeing starts as he was curling his fingers inside you once he was knuckle deep, rubbing that sensitive nub with languid circles until you could see the white in your vision. And right when you were so close, could feel that knot in your stomach and the blurry of your eyes got too much. He just stopped. Pulling his fingers out of you just to clean and lick his pruned fingers.

The same hand that was preoccupied with shoving its fingers in your mouth had come down quick across your face again, not like the first time he’d slapped you. Softer, gentler, easing you back to look at him as he rubbed the imprint of his dick down against your bare pussy, readjusting himself through his pants just to get better friction.

He’d kissed you that night more than you’d ever been kissed before. Kissed you after he licked his fingers clean from your essence. Kissed you after he finally pulled his fingers outta your mouth after fucking your throat sore. Kissed you soft and messy as his hands roamed along your body, gripping at your hips to lift you up just enough to smack the fat of your ass and let his hands roam against the skin.

Kissed you after he’d spit in your mouth. Guiding your tongue to move against his until all you could hear was the wetness of your tongues against each other, and it wasn’t until he finally pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you two that he finally stopped kissing you.

After that it was a blur. A long, painful blur.

He’d fucked you that night, and at first he promised he’d been nice and gentle, but as soon as he slid into you, all his promises fell on empty words. He rocked himself into you, slapping you when you were too loud, apologizing for the way he was fucking into you just to praise you for how well you was taking his dick. You would’ve been embarrassed at the sounds of skin on skin and the squelching between your legs, but your body was betraying you again. Squeezing and molding and fluttering around him in a way that had him groaning against your ear, praising you— your pussy for being so eager.

He was only nice after the two of you came. Telling you how good you were and making sure to be extra gentle when he was pulling out. He reminded you up and down that this wouldn’t be the first time. You denied it, over and over again. Told him it was mistake, but he just laughed. Told you you’d feel his absence by tomorrow and be begging for more.

And he was right.

Things changed after that. You weren’t sure when, but you hadn’t understood it. It was slow at first, a change in energy and the air around you. Not from a claim, or a demand. Just from fact. Like it’s something that always was meant to be, something undeniable, something written into the turning of life itself.

Casual, almost dismissive. There ain’t a need to explain it anymore, too difficult to put into words what changed, you just had to accept it.

This time you understood. You felt it before the words even hit, faster than you understood the shift inside you after the turning. You started putting together what’s shifted inside you, inside your mind, because of him.

At first you decided to test the change. Acting out like a toddler who didn’t get enough rest during nap time. Purposefully being resistant, picking fights at the worst times just to push his buttons. You’d push and push and push, acting like you ain’t bound to something deeper now, bound to him through thoughts and emotions. He claimed to know even before you acted out, said “you just don’t want to admit it.” Like that unknown, unspoken connection was instinctive and undeniable.

Said “you can fight all you want. Won’t change the fact that you’ll feel me long after I leave the room.” Like his presence ain’t physical anymore. Not possessive in the human sense, but just absolute. Like it was something deeper than thought, and he was right. Space didn’t exist between you two anymore, you were one, you were tethered to him through some invisible force.

That pull. That weight. That sense of presence before you even see him.

You knew exactly where he was without looking, without thinking, without needing to ask. Felt something settle when he was near, like tension and resistance faded. Could feel him and that heavy air around him before he spoke, like hunger, and awareness pressed into your own chest before the words even hit.

Understanding, even if you didn’t want to, because it’s already written into you, already etched into you bones.

Fury that turns into familiarity, like knowing exactly how to push each other’s buttons before realizing you weren’t pushing as hard anymore.

Glances that hold a second too long, not because of anger, but because something else has settled under it.

Fighting that felt different, less about winning, more about the way proximity shifts, the way neither one backed down.

Moments of silence that aren’t awkward. They’re charged, weighted, they’re pressing with something unsaid.

A stray touch, accidental, fleeting, and electric, but something to feel long after it’s gone.

The way arguments sound different, less biting, more careful, more edged with frustration rather than hatred.

The moment when you’d start to hesitate before arguing, before snapping back at him, or pushing him away, like the instinct to stay has started settling in.

The tension stretching too far, too tight, until it snaps, until it steps closer instead of apart.

A look that said more than words, more than insults, more than what you were supposed to feel.

That one moment, when neither one of you moves, when neither one of you speaks, and everything feels heavier.

It continued in defiance, you fighting him, him not flinching.

The way he hadn’t entertained your anger, but didn’t ignore it either.

You thought the first time would be the last. Told him it wasn’t gonna happen again, but he didn’t say anything, just hummed like he was hearing you but not really listening. It wasn’t spoken about again.

Then the silence between you stretched even longer, not uncomfortable, or heavy. Just waiting on edge.

Moments where you expected cruelty, and indifference weren’t there. It was something steadier instead.

The way he no longer reacted the way you wanted him to, like your rage didn’t affect him. Those insults don’t reach him the way they used to, and there was just something else pressing between you two instead.

The first time he touched you since the turning, not just a hand on the shoulder or a brush of his hand against your hip. But a deliberate gesture, a long touch, not harsh, or violent, but steady, lingering for a moment too long.

The realization that you wasn’t just reacting to him out of hate anymore, but out of something deeper, something more instinctive crept up to you by surprise. You hadn’t acknowledged it at first but it was known.

The way you started understanding him, not his actions, but the weight behind them. The choices behind them. The quiet between them.

Space between the two of you closing. Not force or chased or awkward but inevitable.

When close proximity didn’t result in moving away anymore, there wasn’t a real reason to. It was just comfort. Touch finally carried no tension, just understanding, finality, some kind of knowing that this was what is.

The moments where he doesn’t have to say anything, because the connection between you already speaks, and you’re able to communicate just from looks. Just like how he did before.

And then the second time.

He had you face down against the cool forest ground in the middle of the night. You couldn’t see him but you could feel the way his eyes raked over you, a steady hand resting on the side of your shoulder to keep you forced down against the grass. You rarely had moments like these, after a petty argument that resulted in more yelling on your side and less speaking on his. You were always too proud to apologize, and well, he hadn’t done nothing wrong this time.

So, as most times used to happen, he took his anger out on you… in other ways. It started with gentle touches this time, a slow run of his hand along your back, pushing just enough to have you arched up against his hips.

“You gon’ keep acting up or you gonna give me what’s mine?” Normally you’d fight back, say something sassy just to get under his skin a little more, but it had been particularly uncomfortable ass up in the air. Your neck was tight, all too tense, and you especially hated that look on his face. The one that practically screamed against every instinct of composure.

“Fine.” You knew he heard it the first time, how couldn’t he? But still, he paused for a moment, dipping his free hand under your shirt to roll it further up along your back. You could feel the coarseness of the pad of his fingers lightly tracing the delicate skin along your spine until his hand reached the bottom of your tailbone.

“Speak up now, Junebug.” You tried your best not to roll your eyes at him, digging your nails into the damp dirt to position your cheek against the cool of the earth. You cast a quick side glance towards him, watching him as he stared down at every movement his hand made, like it was his first time seeing.

“Fine.” You spat out quickly, eyes shifting towards the darkness surrounding you as if you couldn’t see right. You hadn’t even noticed the grip he had on your right ass cheek, massaging and rubbing and squeezing before planting a firm slap against the skin.

“Watch that tone now, I’m tryna play nice.” His voice low, a gentle reminder that made it very obvious that his niceness was a relative term. As he spoke, his hand slid down your waist, grabbing onto your hip like you was gonna crawl your way away from him. With a gentleness that contradicted the slap his hand landed on your ass, he guided you slowly, easing you back until your hips were practically glued to his.

You could barely see the way his eyes shifted up to your face, and it wasn’t until he tapped the side of your hip that you tilted your head to look back at him. He was already looking at you, taking in every micro-expression and every flicker of emotion that played out across your face as he grind his hips against yours. You wasn’t sure what he was trying to see, if he was trying to study the way your face contorted in pleasure at the feeling of his dick rubbing against you through your pants or just enjoying the way you looked.

He was gentler this time. Wiped the dirt from your face, leaned down extra careful to press a kiss on your shoulder. Fucked you through your panties, guided you back against his bare dick once he made sure you had already came in your underwear, stuffed you up real good and stretched you out in a way that had you walking funny for a week straight.

It continued to be like that.

Soon as the sun went down, the two of you just naturally found each other. It wasn’t about the sex, not really. It was about the connection, the company, the feeling. Though you hadn’t experienced it before, it felt as though you were a school girl, running off past curfew to hang out with a troubled boy who you had no business to be around.

Except you were forever tethered to that boy.

He had been weird lately. You weren’t sure why, but you should have picked up on the signs as soon as they were obvious. There was this change to him, the same kind of change you encountered months ago.

The life altering change.

He spoke less, told you to always be careful and aware of your surroundings just in case. Every conversation shifted now. A change to where he spoke less, and you spoke more. Not because you wanted it to be this way, but because he asked for it. Asked for you to tell him about what happened when you went your separate ways for the night, asked for all the stuff you swore up and down were boring, but he sat there on the couch, leaning his elbows against his knees, listening intently.

Always kept his eyes on you, more than before. Like he was memorizing your presence and studying every shift of your expression as he urged you to go on and on. Not once did he interrupt you. He just let you speak about what usually happened when you two disappeared for the night, something you never really had the stomach to admit but spoke anyways just cause he seemed so interested in it. Like your words were more important than his.

He never really left your side either. He was just different. Never once told you why he was acting so strange or what happened that night that made him act so differently and seem so tense. It was just change.

Whenever he could, he was always touching you. Placing a hand on your back whenever you two had gone out together at night, looking around the darkness for stuff you couldn’t see, doing things you’d seen older couples do before the turn. Adjusting your sleeve here and there, running his hand along the side of your hip, squeezing your waist like he was tryna make sure you were still there. Held you by your wrist all securely, guiding you and holding you in a way that made it seem like you’d break if he wasn’t too careful. Resting his hand on your jaw, watching you the same way he always did, pressing his forehead against yours whenever you two had sex. Though after a while it wasn’t sex it was something more intimate, something more vulnerable.

He never once said that word you were certain of. The ‘L’ word. One time he had gotten pretty close to it. Told you, “If you go. I go.” At the time you weren’t sure what he meant, it was almost random in the conversation, you mentioned Gramma, trying to go and see her, and that was all he said. Maybe it had a double meaning, maybe it meant more because he said it. But he never brought that up again, and neither did you.

It had been like that for eight nights.

The first and last time you ever made love was with him. It started off as an awkward hug, that half hug you give to someone you don’t really like, but it was the first and only hug he’s ever given you. And then he was sliding down, draping one arm against your hips as he pressed a kiss just under your belly button. You hadn’t heard him at first, his mouth was too busy kissing over your shirt, holding tight onto your hips like you would’ve pushed him away. You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, to try to understand why he was so different, but then he was looking up at you, sliding his hands along the sides of your thigh.

“I don’t pray, but if I did it’d be for you,” he hadn’t even given you the opportunity to let his words sit in. To actually soak in what he had just said, and before you could ask, or say anything, he was cutting you off with a slow shake of his head. Like he didn’t want you to talk, he just wanted you to listen. “You don’t ask, but I’d give you anything. I’d bring you anything you needed. I’d give you everything you need before you finish thinking it. You breathe, and I’ll follow.”

You weren’t sure what to say. Couldn’t think of anything to try to reciprocate that response because the most anyone has ever said to you was an “I love you”, and that was only by your Gramma. You were worried, your eyebrows furrowed in a way to have you think faster but he was already carefully rolling down the bottom of your pajamas for some skin on skin contact.

“Remmick, I’m confused.” He looked up at you, and hesitated. For the first time ever, he hesitated. He didn’t say anything, just took a slow inhale of your scent, pressing his face against your thighs before sliding down in between your legs. He planted soft, wet kisses along your inner thigh, stretching them up along your upper thigh and back down to the hemming of your panties. His hands gripped onto your thighs, gently urging them further apart so he could comfortably rest in between them before placing a light bite along the expanse of skin on your thigh. Reaching down to kiss and bite on one thigh before turning his head to do the same on the other.

“Shh, don’t worry ‘bout it, just let me make you feel real good,” his eyes tore away from the sight of what was right in front of him, peeking up at you again just to watch that confusion disappear from your face. You could see in his shoulders that he was still tense, but he was too busy on kissing and marking up your inner thighs to even address the elephant in the room. He moved slow, took his time even though the actual movements themselves screamed of urgency. “Gon’ worship the fuck outta this pussy.”

He was quick to press his tongue up against your clothed pussy, pressing a wet kiss against the fabric. Dragging the base of his tongue up and down against the damp patch of fabric with enough force to have your legs trying to force themselves together again. His hands found their way towards your thighs again, gently guiding your legs back until your feet were propped up on either side of his face. You gasped in surprise as he found that sensitive bud through the thin fabric, forcing himself closer just to try to rub the tip of his tongue against the nub so he could hear that shaky sigh you always made. The rough fabric of your panties chafed against your sensitive flesh, the damp patch growing with each pass of his tongue.

He looked up at you with hooded eyes, humming low and long against your mound, taking quick blinks to make sure he didn’t miss a single thing. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him in place as you rocked against him, chasing the friction you so desperately needed.

He tugged your panties aside, exposing your glistening sex to the cool air before his mouth was on you again. His tongue sliding deep into your folds, fucking along the slick walls of your core.

He groaned against your flesh, the vibrations sending little waves of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you open, keeping you vulnerable to his ministration. He licked and sucked, his tongue swirling around your clit before drawing it into his mouth to suck again.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, nails digging into his scalp as you ground yourself against his face, riding his tongue with stuttering motions. The wet sounds of his mouth on your sex filled the room, accented by your desperate moans and whiny gasps.

He ate you out like he was starving. Like he was new again and having his first meal. You could feel every ridge, every contour of his tongue and the warmth of his mouth against you, as he continued every as you were rocking your hips against his face, rubbing swollen clit against his lips and chin. The whole thing was so obscene, almost crude, wet sounds filled the air. The lewd schlick and suck of his mouth on your soaked sex echoed through the room like the filthiest thing you’ve ever heard. The vulgar noise mingled with your breathless moans and the slight squirming of your body under his was something that had been etched into your mind. Even now.

Your heavy breathing broke off into a sharp whine as his lips closed around your throbbing clit, sucking on the sensitive nub with a long pop. You couldn’t even speak, back almost arching up off the bed, nails raking down his scalp, your fingers tangling in his hair as you held him in place, your body writhing and bucking against his mouth.

He lapped at you like a man who’d just finished his fast. His tongue flicking and stroking and teasing every aching, swollen fold of your flesh. The sight of him nestled between your pale thighs, his lips glistening with your juices and something between drool and spit had been the prettiest sight you’d ever seen. It was a debauched, erotic vision that forced another knot in your stomach and a familiar ache deep in your body.

You could feel the heat building in your core, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter as his tongue fucked you towards the brink of toe curling ecstasy. It was probably the hardest you’ve ever came, you weren’t sure why, but it had been. And soon as you were done, he grinned at you with slick lips before having his own way with you.

The night was dense, thick with tension, with the scent of damp earth and blood lingering in the air. He hadn’t come back yet. You weren’t sure why, and you weren’t too worried at first, you could still smell the faint leather and wood scent of him lingering off in the distance. But you heard them. Heard them before you could see them. The hushed voices, the slow footsteps, the precise movements that were a little too precise and a little too quiet to be randoms.

You wished you could turn back time. Wished you could have some fear or some rationality to remind yourself that unease was the only thing that had kept you alive. You should have listened to your gut.

Should have ignored the voice inside your head telling you that this wasn’t fear. Fear was useless. It was a calculation, an understanding. A recognition of the moment where the hunt shifted, but you had no real place to run too. The moon was almost gone, the sun was too close to rising, and you could hear that faint ruffle of the animals coming to life.

Then the silence broke, the house creaked, the ground wept. A flicker of movement, a shadow stepping forward, barely visible against the low porch light. Not rushed, not desperate. They didn’t need to be. You were surrounded, and you ain’t even know who they were. Still don’t. But you’ve got a bit of a clue now.

Your gaze shifted out the window, fingers curling at your sides, muscles coiling in tension, the deep pulse of hunger buried beneath something colder. You couldn’t see him, the scent of him was wafting away into the distance somewhere. Maybe you should’ve tried running away, seeking shelter in some idiot’s house for the day, keep moving at night. But you hadn’t.

You stay stuck in the house, cornered like a mouse with no obvious escape and no easy way out. Everything happened in slow motion. Weapons of wooden stakes and guns were drawn, a wall of human blocking the only entrance out of the damn place. You could’ve fed, could’ve tried to, but there was ten of them and one of you. But they didn’t rush, just watched by the driveway, waiting on you to cave before the tension settled too thick.

Not panicking, not surrendering, but everyone recognized the weight of the moment. The weight of this.

“Your kind has roamed freely for too long. That ends now.” It was spoken out into the night air. Like justice, like something deeper than the hunt itself. Like revenge.

You couldn’t run, couldn’t hide, couldn’t feed without getting a stake in the heart. It was over before it even started. Finally closing you in, making sure you understands the finality of it.

If you think too long about it, in some ways, he’s killed you twice.

The hunt happened quick. They burned the house down, stabbed you in the back once you got close enough to chew off just one person. But by then it was too late. The sun was peeking from the horizon, and for a moment time slowed down. You were distracted by the sight itself, the harsh rays of the morning sun as they hit you directly in the face. It was warm at first, a sight you hadn’t seen in months, and for a second you missed that feeling. The heat, the cool warmth that stretched through your body, but it didn’t stop.

Turned from warmth into something sharper, it wasn’t comfort anymore. It blistered, and bit into your skin, burning something quick into you. The body betrayed itself stuck rooted to the ground, through weakness, surrender, just the knowing of what was happening. And you had to let it happen. There was no sanctuary left.

It burned something awful, you could feel the fire eating through your flesh, spreading through every inch of your body with no hesitation.

Everything collapsed inward— nerve endings alight, consciousness flickering, that final inhale before nothing remains.

Not fear or worry, or sorrow, but recognition. You knew the end was always going to come. Just expected it to be peaceful, later in life when you were fully ready. This is just the way it chose.

Maybe you’d felt regret, maybe relief. But there silence, it happened too quick to scream, but the sight was too gorgeous to miss out on. The memories. The people you knew, the ones you lost, the ones who made you keep going. You were ready, you forced yourself to be ready. This is how it had to be. But for that split moment, the moment before you disappeared forever. For good this time. Questions kept repeating in your head, some of anger, some of worry, some of fear.

Had he abandoned you?

Did he run because he had to, or because he chose to?

Did they get to him first?

Was he already waiting for you where the sun won’t hurt?

At first, your brain refused to register the absence entirely, and then confusion took place, warping into something of unease. Not because of the feeling of skin on fire, or the final glimpse of the sun, but because something vital had been ripped away.

Then fear, for him— for whatever fate caught up to him before it happened to you.

But then anger— cause all that teaching had been for nothing. And if he left willingly, if he didn’t tell her, if he thought disappearing was better than staying, you would’ve spent your entirety of eternal life wishing him to damnation.

Finally. Finally, something quieter, acceptance, maybe, or something close to it. The silence was finally normal, freeing, unweighted. Light. Things left behind didn’t matter, they couldn’t matter. Things were different now. They were meant to be. A final change in the air—a subtle shift of understanding. No need for an answer to waiting just beyond. You could be.

A final, broken inhale— brief, clipped, too hot. A sigh that shifted the slowness of the moment and finally brought you back to reality, back to the burning and the pain and the fire. There was no need for a reaction, no need for a scream or a cry. You were home.

And then that warmth. The heat inside you growing and growing until it burst into a thousand suns. Until you faded away into the morning sky.

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violetseaslug · 5 months ago

Note

I WOULD DIE for 18+ No-eul fanfic. Maybe the reader's first time ?! love u by the way:3

" ive fallen quite hard over you "

fem! reader x kang no-eul ୧ ‧₊˚ 🌷⋅ ☆

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

🌷 warnings: loss of virginity, smut (duh) but nothing rough

💌 a/n: thank you for your request cutie, i love u more <3!!!

+ im rlly sorry it took me awhile to complete ur req! i procrastinate my smut fics the most bc i hate how they turn out. the fluff is good but the smut js goes downhill </3 so i suck at writing smut but nonetheless i hope you enjoy ml! 💐 sorry for any mistakes!!! bc its 4am now so im going to bed (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★

You had known No-Eul for around four months now—four months filled with breathless laughter, stolen kisses, and late-night conversations that stretched until dawn. You’d gone on countless romantic dates, from quiet cafe mornings to moonlit strolls where your hands found each other effortlessly.

So when she stood at your doorstep one evening, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a handwritten letter in the other with its final question reading, Will you be my girlfriend?—how could you possibly say no? You already adored her.

The weeks melted into each other, and the more time you spent together, the deeper you fell. Nights at her apartment became your favorite kind of escape. Curled up in her arms, your head resting on her chest as she absentmindedly braided your hair, the two of you whispering about everything and nothing.

And somewhere between those quiet moments and the electric ones—between her gentle touches and the way she always looked at you like you were the only thing in the world—you realized you were ready to take the next step.

But it wasn’t as simple as deciding. This wasn’t just any step. This was the step.

You had never been intimate with anyone before, and the thought of it sent nervous flutters through your chest. Even now, sitting beside her, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater, you could feel your heart pounding.

Still, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to speak.

“No-Eul…” you began, your voice soft but steady.

She turned to you immediately, her warm, gorgeous eyes locking onto yours with an unspoken understanding. The way she looked at you was patient, expectant, and adoring and it made you feel like you could tell her anything.

Suddenly, you were ready to risk it all.

“I think I’m ready,” you admitted, searching her face for a reaction. “If you are too…?”

For a moment, she just looked at you, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. Then, a slow, knowing smile spread across her lips.

Without another word, she pulled you into her arms, lifting you effortlessly as she carried you toward the bedroom.

And in that moment, she gave you her answer.

As No-Eul carried you into the bedroom, a soft laugh bubbled from your lips, a mix of excitement and nervous energy. You buried your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her familiar scent, notes of something musky.

She set you down gently, her arms still wrapped around your waist as she pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Are you sure?” she murmured, her voice warm and careful, her fingers brushing over your cheek like you were something precious.

You nodded, heart thudding. “I am.”

Her gaze searched yours for a moment longer, and then she smiled, that soft, knowing smile that made you melt every time. “Then let’s take our time.”

She moved with a tenderness that made your chest ache, as if she wanted to savor every second, every breath. Her hands skimmed over your arms, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and you couldn’t help but shiver—though whether it was nerves or anticipation, you weren’t sure.

No-Eul seemed to notice, and she chuckled lightly. “Relax, love,” she whispered, pressing her lips to your temple. “I’ve got you.”

And she did.

Everything about her—her touch, her presence, the way she whispered sweet things against your skin—made you feel safe, cherished. The nervousness you had felt before melted into something else entirely, something warm and intoxicating, something that made you feel like you were floating.

Her hands, as soft as freshly fallen snow, and as gentle as a breeze in the middle of spring, began travelling down your body. Starting at your chest but stopping at your nipples, already hard. She couldn't help but take them in between her fingers and rub them together. She was mesmerized by your body and just how gorgeous it was. Kissing your body lower and lower while continuing to play with your nipples, you started to let out little whimpers.

No-eul paused her administrations to glance up at you with a look filled with nothing but pure adoration and love. You looked back down at her with a small smile and your already disheveled hair and gave her a small nod, reassuring her you were okay and you wanted nothing more but for her to continue what she was doing.

She continued her trail downwards, getting closer and closer to your already soaking pussy. You had always wondered how it would feel to be really turned on and how genuine anticipation would feel, and you have no clue if you'll ever be able to live without the feeling again because no-eul has already ruined you for anyone else. Especially when she uses that talented tongue of hers to lick around your inner thighs and inch closer to your pussy.

No-eul, getting quite impatient herself decided to waste no time in glancing up at you from inbetween your legs as she shot her tongue out to begin lapping at your clit. And as the taste of your leaking cum settled on her tongue, she slowly began eating you out with more fervour. her tongue was exploring every inch of your pussy, it went from licking inside you to drawing figure eight patterns on your clit.

And as she eats like a starved woman, your moans get louder and louder. No-eul can't get enough and thats precisely the reason why she pulls back away from your pussy to sit on her knees and admire your already fucked out expression and tell you.

"You taste better than i could ever fucking imagine," she says as she admires the way your cum is shining against your swollen clit. "You're doing so good for me my love," Her tone begins to turn from sweet and loving, to teasing. "But ive seen the way you stare at my fingers. Do you want them inside you, baby?" Although shes smirking at you and her intention is to tease you, you know she'd never force you to do things you didn't want to.

You look up at her with glossy eyes and messy hair as you whimper out a weak little "please."

And No-eul is immediately resting her head on your shoulder, biting her lip in an attempt to conceal the whimper that threatened to slip past her lips. Her touch, yet again softer than you could've ever imagined, begun drawing closer to your pussy. Slowly pushing one finger inside, your jaw dropped as you let out a shameless moan, the feeling of her fingers inside you was overwhelming but in the best way possible.

And as she pushes her second finger in, you find yourself unable to contain your whimpers. But no-eul was beside you to talk you through it and praise you as much as you needed.

"So good for me baby, you're taking me so well, hmm?" She says while curling her fingers inside you slowly, feeling your warm and soft pussy clench around her.

You were feeling so fucking good and everytime you heard her teasing yet soothing voice beside your ear, your pussy tightened.

Suddenly, a particular and unfamiliar feeling started rising in your lower stomach. Instinctively, you began gently pushing her fingers and gripping her arm, but no-eul wasn't stupid.

"F-feels weird..." You managed to mumble out.

"Just trust me baby, i got you, okay?" She reassured you with a gentle but loving kiss on the lips, adoration written all over her expression as she lovingly looks into your glossy eyes.

And you were so glad you did trust her because the feeling that followed after the sensation in your stomach came crashing in, was nothing short of euphoric.

As soon you regained your steady breath and the two of you settled into the quiet hum of the night, No-Eul didn’t let you go—not even for a second. She tucked you against her, her fingers trailing lazily up and down your arm as she pressed slow, lingering kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, anywhere she could reach.

Time blurred, but what you would remember most was the way she looked at you afterward, like you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“You okay?” she whispered, her voice softer than ever, as if she was afraid to break the tenderness of the moment.

When you nodded, she smiled and brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face. “Stay right here,” she murmured before slipping out of bed, only to return moments later with a warm towel and a glass of water.

She helped you sit up just enough to take a few sips, watching you with that same gentle expression, like you were the most precious thing in the world. Then, she pressed the cool rim of the towel to your skin, taking her time, murmuring quiet praises between each touch.

“You did so well,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you.” And when she was sure you were comfortable, she pulled you back into her arms, wrapping you up in warmth, in safety, in love.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds in the room were your steady breaths, the occasional rustling of sheets, and the distant hum of the city outside. You felt weightless, completely at peace in her embrace.

Then, just as your eyelids began to grow heavy, No-Eul’s voice broke through the quiet.

“You know,” she murmured, her lips curving into a teasing smile, “I was so nervous when I asked you to be my girlfriend. I must’ve rewritten that letter ten times.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head up to look at her. “You? Nervous?”

She nodded, feigning seriousness. “Terrified, actually. What if you had said no?”

You grinned, tracing your fingers along her jaw. “I couldn’t have. I already adored you.”

Her smile softened. “I adore you too.”

The words settled between you, warm and certain.

You let your eyes drift shut, your head resting against her chest as sleep slowly pulled you under.

And with her arms around you, her heartbeat steady beneath your ear, you had never felt safer.

#squid game fanfiction #wlw post #squid game s2 #squid game season 2 #squid game smut #squid game x y/n #squid game fanfic #squid game #squid games x you #squid game fandom #kang noeul x reader #kang noeul #kang no eul #kang no eul x reader #guard 011 x reader #guard 011

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couch-potato28 · 7 months ago

Text

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽

PROLOGUE

(a/n: Hey everybody! First time writing here, so please 🙏 excuse my poor looking posts and grammatical errors /let me know if u see any!!/ English is not my first language so pls take that into account O.O tyy ❤️)

WARNING!-there's i think one swear word

wc: 2.8 k words im sry really, like i yap a lot 😭

ALSO: please let me know if you're interested in the continuation

Imagine that in addition to your logical thinking, communicational skills and physical performance, Blue Lock also tests your mental health, because if you excel in these 4 areas, you might be worthy to become a manager of one of their players. However, competing with 199 other girls who are going through the same ordeal, let's admit, doesn't really calm your nerves. But how did you even end up in Blue Lock in the first place?

—————— Saturday morning, sitting in the corner of a nearby coffee shop, with your books open, laptop fully charged, your phone on silent mode with of course, a cup of caffeine on the side, you are ready to conquer those history notes.

You had already started to memorize everything the previous week, so today was really about practicing, and revising. After cracking your back, and sipping some coffee, you began reading the first few lines on your laptop, occasionally peeking at the highlighted parts of your book in case you got stuck.

Time passed quickly, and when you looked at the clock on your phone screen, it turned out that you had been repeating ridiculously difficult names, dates, places and events which were described in an awful lot of detail for exactly 1 hour and 32 minutes. Seeing that, you decided to take a well-deserved break, which actually just consisted of texting, and watching funny cat videos.

Closing your laptop and books, you gave yourself half an hour to rest, so that time wouldn't double leading to you procrastinating and forgetting everything you'd just revised. Reaching for your phone and turning off the silent mode, you started reading the few messages that had come in during your study session. Most of them were sent from your best friend, briefly stating that she had fallen asleep and will probably have stay up all night to cramp whatever material she can get into her head, hoping that she somehow manages to pass on Monday.

Told ya to set an alarm >:( Well, you should have accepted my offer to study together HAHAHA good luck btw :D

You wrote in response, feeling kinda sorry for her before going straight to your emails after seeing a notification, where you found a recently received message with a strange title.

“BLUE LOCK INVITATION”

What the hell is Blue Lock? And why did you get an invitation? Your initial thought was that it’s a scam, and were trying to delete the email if your stupid finger hadn’t slipped, making it press and open the email. Great, now your eyes were glued to the screen, trying to read whatever was on the message.

“Dear L/N Y/N!

We are honored to invite you to the Blue Lock Manager Training Program, where you will be granted the chance to work with one of our future star football players. We hope you will consider the offer because this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you are interested, please come to the following address and time.

Any further questions will be answered on-site!

Blue Lock Assistant and Health Manager,

Anri Teieri”

Um, what the fuck. Yeah, doesn’t sound sketchy at aaall…as you read the letter over and over again, trying to make sense of it, not understanding how they even knew about your existence in the first place and more importantly…how did they get your email address? Although that wasn’t the point, it piqued your interest. You had so many questions yet you could only get answers on the spot.

“Smart tactic.”-you said, before browsing the internet to find something about this Blue Lock project. About 20 minutes later though, you leaned back into your chair and sighed in defeat as there was not a single thing about Blue Lock at all. The only thing you had was this quite fancy looking email.

Finishing the rest of your coffee, you began to think about the offer and whether or not to go. Your current job wasn’t good neither was the payment, which is why you recently had to take on a second job. But from what you read about the program, if you were to actually work with a soon to be star football player, the pay would probably be high. Plus, how hard can it be to manage a person, right?

After thoroughly thinking about the offer, you decided to give it a chance. Finishing the rest of your work, you came home and talked to your parents somehow persuading them to agree. Later that day you also informed your best friend as well. The weekend passed as you successfully finished your history exam on Monday and then you headed straight to the so-called Blue Lock building, the very next day. ——————

That's how you ended up in your current situation. On your first day there, they led you to a big hall with a bunch of people. To be specific, young girls around your age. Looking around for a bit, you realized that there were a lot of girls indeed, but no boys in sight. Finding it a bit strange, but shrugging it off, you turned around to face a huge stage, where moments later a pink-haired woman appeared, whose name you assumed and now know is Anri, introduced herself and greeted you from a big podium with a mic in her hand.

Finishing the brief intro she then continued with a very thorough and detailed speech, revealing that if you agreed to the conditions of the program, you would technically be locked up in the building for the next 3 months and would participate in intensive training, where you potentially could be eliminated for poor results.

“There goes my money…”-you thought, since you never really cared about football in your life nor did you know anything about it. Which in retrospect, you should have done or researched a bit before coming here since you applied to be a football player's manager after all.

“Well, it doesn't matter now anyway.”-you told yourself for some comfort. After Anri had finished her monologue, she instructed everyone that:

“If you agree and ready to take on the challenge then please go through this door!”-pointing with her microphone at a huge dark blue door that was slowly opening.

Hesitating a bit, you thought about all the possible things that could go wrong, but after a not-so-long train of thoughts you managed to convince yourself. Also that little push by a girl running towards the doors sealed the deal for you as you slowly started to walk towards the unknown.

“I mean, what can I lose, right? My sanity is gone already and even if I get eliminated, I'm just going to go back to my normal life again”-you whispered, and with a small grin you officially entered Blue Lock.

——————

To your surprise, the facility was quite clean and not to mention huge since most likely somewhere on the other side of the building, boys were kicking balls and running laps. Following the others, you arrived in what you assumed was a large waiting room with multiple TV screens on the walls. After managing to squish yourself through the crowd, a sudden voice spoke from the speakers and an egg-headed guy with a strangely perfect bowl cut appeared on the screens, introducing himself.

“Hello, diamond grinders! My name is Jinpachi Ego, the coach of the players in Blue Lock, and the overall boss of the facility. I guess you already know why you’re here so I won’t bother with that anymore. First, let’s start with a quick count, which is...currently 200 people.”-he said as you looked around with wide eyes. The fact is, there were indeed many people besides you, but you didn't think such a large amount of them would participate.

'Pfft, no worries…'-you encouraged yourself, realizing that you’d probably get kicked out on the second day, if not today. You looked up to the screens again, and bowl cut continued.

“Out of these 200 people, the best performers will be given the best athletes to work with. But! You have to know what you’re doing. From now on, every minute of your time will be spent, from morning to night according to a routine and the underperformers will be eliminated. Understand?”

You nodded unconsciously, following those around you. This was serious and there was no turning back now. Even so looking at that man’s gaze as he spoke somehow made you shiver a little.

'What have I gotten myself into?'-the question suddenly popped into your head, making you doubt for a moment, if you being here was truly a good decision, but Ego's voice immediately made you get back on track.

“Great. Let’s start with a quick summary then. First, you will be divided into 20 teams, 10 people each. This division was based on your current abilities, but they can change over time while you’re here. Each week, the levels to pass are going rise and be harder, and those who can't pass will automatically fail and get eliminated."-he said leaning back into his chair.-"Next, is the routine which the assistant will tell you about in detail later. The goal here in Blue Lock besides creating football players, is to produce ideal managers who have the perfect skills and attitude to fit with them, and to maintain their level, helping them until the end of their careers.”-he suddenly raised his index finger and the screens showed what looked like an animation of whatever he was about to say.-"This includes, one: Strategic and logical thinking, two: A healthy and fit body and three: The highest levels of media and communication! If you perform well in these three main areas, then a job and the experience of a lifetime are guaranteed! Don't disappoint me! Now lock off and goodbye for now!”

With that, the egg-headed man finished his speech, disappearing from the screens and Anri, with a microphone in her hand, started to divide everyone up, while handing out papers with our new weekly routine printed on it. Seems like you have been assigned to group number 10. That's not bad, but were your abilities really worth as much to be a team 10 member? So far you have only (tried) to manage your own life and your current football knowledge was equal to zero. But there was no time left for further thoughts, because after receiving the uniform you had to immediately start on the first task according to your assigned routine for the day.

—————— Okay. This was harder than you thought. Wiping off the sweat from your forehead, you started running your seventh lap around the damn track again.

"I’m gonna pass out.”-you muttered under your breath, as your newly made friend, you’d just met a few days ago appeared next to you.

“Same, I'm too tired to be running around in the morning!”-she replied, and after a few seconds the sound of a whistle was heard, signaling the end of the first part of the warm-up. Well, today was going to be long again.

Your new routine consisted of starting your mornings at exactly 7 am with physical exercises and then, you had a quick breakfast. After that you had to start on some brain work tasks for the day, followed by communication class and lunch. A 15 minute break later, media and IT started and before finishing the day with a small workout again, were language lessons waiting for you. Yes. You also had to learn languages.

Unfortunately not just one, not two or three, but four fucking languages in which you had to reach a basic level. At least the variety was good, since now you knew how to say hello in French, German, Italian and Spanish. (multilingual queen slay) And then based on those you could decide which one you wanted to work on more and reach at least an intermediate level. If that was not enough, the knowledge of English was also mandatory, but at an advanced level. Also for every other day there were talks, activities and tasks about basic football for those with the lack of knowledge to at least have a grasp on the topic. So there you were, in full uniform everyday for the last two months, suffering through training.

It almost hurts to admit, but on some days you started to miss your simple, slightly boring school life. Thinking back to your friends and parents who you hadn't talked with in a while, to those boring classes and your warm bed. Training was hard since other than having to excel at the 3 fields, worrying that you could get eliminated at any moment, if you lacked behind was stressing you out even more than you already were. On top of that, seeing that some of the girls were kicked out of the building was saddening, yet it worked like a charm to make you work even harder to survive till the end.

Sure, it’s not like it wasn’t good here since you arrived. Luckily, you quickly adapted to the new environment, getting used to the shared bathrooms, roommates, the extreme routines and plans you had to follow and the surprisingly good canteen food. But the lack of 'fresh air'of the bustling Tokyo, the crowded places, the subways and the fact you could sleep in on the weekends certainly made a void in your heart. The mountains were a beautiful view, but you started to get bored of them after a while.

That's how you usually spent the rest of your days with. Time also flew a lot quicker with your new friends who you suffered with together until they finally announced the end of the program, ordering everyone to gather in the waiting room. Everybody arrived on time and just a few minutes later bowl cut finally appeared on the screens again. —————— “Yo, diamond grinders! Congrats on surviving till now. Looking at your data and statuses, I'm pretty much satisfied with everyone. Well, it doesn't matter now, since the results are already decided.”-Ego said in a voice that lacked emotions yet again. Still the boredom and lack of sleep were evident on his face, noticing his eye bags and the empty cups of ramen in the background that he didn't even bother to clean up. He coughed a little before continuing.-“After analyzing every single one of you on each field, I have decided on which player to assign you, based on these factors and scores. Let's start now, shall we?"-he asked and a little icon of the first girl who was about to be assigned, appeared on the TV screens, showing her name and the team she belonged to.-"First of all, congratulations to Aiko Hashimoto…”-he said a girl's name that felt unfamiliar to you, and then went on with, what you assumed was the player's jersey number and the name of who she would be managing from now on. Meanwhile on the big screens the footballer's little icon made an appearance as well next to Aiko's.

Ego soon continued with announcing the girls by their rank and time seemed to slow down the moment he started speaking again. After a while, at least 20 minutes have passed, yet your name was nowhere to be heard. Even your closest friend was now assigned to some boy, while you were still waiting for your turn. 'Did you do that well? Maybe they just forgot to kick you out.'-you assumed after another 5 minutes passed. Listening to Ego as he was still announcing names, you glanced around at the remaining girls who seemed confident while standing, not hearing their names yet. They seemed certain that they were getting one of the top players you thought, while you, yourself were still unsure who you would end up with. Before any more thoughts could occupy your mind, the sound of a familiar name hit your ears.

“Next up is L/N Y/N.”-you heard from the speakers and finally your little icon also turned up on the screens. Oh my gosh, it’s you! Wait who was before you again? What numbered player are we even at now?!

Blinking twice, you looked up to the main screen, staring at the miniature doddle of you, while Ego was about to say the lucky guy's name you were going to work with. A sudden rush of excitement and worry began to overwhelm you, anxiously waiting to hear the fruit of your 3 months of suffering. Sure, you did do well in all areas required and even gained some knowledge about football in general, but was it enough? Every girl here did their best, trying equally hard, afraid of missing the opportunity of a lifetime and getting kicked out of the facility.

You gulped ready to hear whatever and whoever was waiting for you on the other side of Blue Lock. Ego’s voice rang through the waiting room as he said the following:

“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…”

(Oh my gosh, this was a long one, hope you guys enjoyed it ^^; i wasn't sure about this story since it's my first one, so pls let me know if you are interested in a continuation and tell me, who you think will get u as their manager? (★‿★) tyy

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #manager au #bllk x reader #bllk #ego jinpachi #anri teieri #fem reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you

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pinecipitation · 1 year ago

Note

Pine,,,, smiling friends headcanons, how do you think each of the boys would react to their crush saying they feel safe with them :> if not all of them, your boy Alan and Charlie and Pim (asking for us both im shaking)

SMILING FRIENDS X GN!READER HCS

FIRST OF ALL,,,, HAIIII TEDDYYYY :3 ❤️💛 HELLO WIFE HI LOML…

second of all YESSS SMILING FRIENDS CONTENT WE R SO BACKKK let me get to work ‼️

word count: around 1.2k

authors note: oh my god this was in the works for like a month, I be procrastinating really hard i’m sorry gang 😔🤞 also I’m so sorry alans is so short despite him being my favorite one I’m fighting for my life in here man

CHARLIE: (s1e6)

charlie… is almost relieved to hear it, honestly would immediately flip a switch and do the very most to KEEP you as safe as you can be- but hide it in a playful manner. would carry you for the rest of your life if you asked, just because you inflated his ego.

The two of you are almost halfway in the enchanted forest, you walking in front of Charlie as you hold a little makeshift map in front of the two of you. The whole time Charlie is pointing out little shortcuts, you erasing and drawing paths over and over on the paper until a particularly strong gust of wind blow it away from the two of you, his shocked mouth open and yours would’ve opened if the pencil wasn’t still in your mouth. You didn’t want to say it, but you felt a little aggravated at him for losing your focus like that.

You stop to let him speed up in front of you, the two of you continuing onwards in silence before he speaks.

“Listen… I-“

“It’s fine, you go and I follow. I trust you.”

The minute those words left your mouth, Charlie immediately stops and turns to look at you, the clinks and clanks of his armor making it almost comedic.

“What?”

“…I said you could lead the way?-“

“No,” he shakes his head, the helmet shifting with him, “After that.”

You look at him quizzically, your arms awkward by your side as you look to the side then to him again.

“I trust you?”

What you couldn’t see was Charlie internally squealing like a little girl, happy that someone like you can allow themselves to be so carefree around him. Except you weren’t just someone; he’s unknowingly had a thing for you long enough to where it’s embarrassing that he hasn’t made a move. But, somehow, you telling him that made him understand why he got so nervous around you. Why he always felt let down whenever you had a different mission that day and couldn’t hang with him and Pim. Why he always slightly pulled aside the seat next to him in the office just so you’d sit next to him instead of across.

He finally realized he liked you.

But of course, he’d never say that out loud.

What he did do, however, was immediately grin and flex, his armor audibly showing him move as if he were showing off in a gym mirror.

“Well of course you do, I’d be concerned if you didn’t think a hero like me could protect you. I mean, look at me,” he plays along, successfully earning a chuckle from you before you roll your eyes and shift the bag on your shoulder before you keep moving ahead.

“Alright, hero- hey-!” Your joking manner was cut short as Charlie picks you up, flinging you over his shoulder as his laugh rockets off the trees around the two of you.

Your giggles and pleas to be let down drowned out as he thought about that sentence once more, thinking about what to do to hopefully hearing it again another time.

PIM: (s1e4)

pim….. he’d be so happy, would internally have a little panicked spongebob brain moment but on the outside he’s a stuttering blushing mess. as if he isn’t pink enough.

“Don’t worry, i’ll use this rock to mark the trees- we can find our way back easy!”

Pims words seemed like an echo, his happy go easy personality twenty minutes ago almost feeling like a warning now that the two of you crossed that bridge. The two of you just barely escaped the rain, logs and sticks discarded as the rickety cabin door you called shelter slammed shut.

You were both dripping, Pims cowboy outfit making wet stretching noises every time he stretched his leg or raised his arm. Your outfit was also drenched, a small rip or two from the thorns you pulled away from on the run here.

You were still kneeled over catching your breath as the thunder pursued outside, Pim shakingly clearing his throat before looking up at you with disappointed eyes.

“Listen,… I’m really sorry, I didn’t think it would rain or anything but even then I shouldn’t have taken us across the bridge, and now it’s my fault we’re here-,” he begins, his wet hat now in his hands as he stares down at his cowboy spurs. He only really looked up once he hears you interrupted him with a laugh, a sound he immediately feels his cheeks redden to.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little rain. We’ll be okay- plus, I feel safe with you. I know we’ll make it back fine.”

You were facing down trying to wring the water out of your hair and costume, thinking nothing of it, but to Pim?

To Pim, it meant everything.

He immediately stopped, his eyes widening as he stares at you with his mouth slightly ajar, the redness in his cheeks instantly spreading to his nose and ears. It took two or three tries for him to get his words out, the clothes on him somehow feeling tighter the more he tried to express himself.

“You… you trust me??” The way his meek voice instantly made you straighten up and look at him, the barely there water in his eye almost making you feel guilty for saying it.

Immediately you went to go hold him, your hands wrapping around his back as he listens to you giggle out a ‘Of course! Pim, are you okay?’ and he nods in return. His hands interlock together behind your back, his cheek on your shoulder as he thanks you.

ALAN: (s2e3)

alan… my wife.. would definitely think about asking if you’re SURE. in that case, he’s taken it upon himself to keep his eyes on you like a HAWK, unfortunately intimidating everyone around the two of you.

You seem to feel oddly safe perusing the streets of CrimeVille, thinking back on everyone’s warnings of how dangerous the place was. This is too easy, you think, feeling like everyone was just exaggerating the state of where you two were. What you didn’t realize, however, was Alan shooting everyone the stink eye of the century as he walks behind you.

It wasn’t too long ago when you two left the OfficeCrap, the following conversation unexpected as you both walked out.

“I can do it myself, I don’t want you going to that part of town…” Alan mumbles, the soft mechanic noise of the sliding door behind you helping end his sentence. You only shake your head, shushing him before pronouncing how you’ll be fine, and you trust him to protecting you if anything.

Unbeknownst to you, that’s the only thing Alan’s been thinking about since you left. Fortunately for Alan, being tall and having a somewhat stoic resting facial expression, he was very easy to intimidate anyone looking at you.

He almost walked like your shadow, hands in his pocket as he walks over you like a protective red totem, his blue tie occasionally brushing the top of your head as he looms over everything.

#pine smiles ⍋#smiling friends #alan smiling friends #charlie smiling friends #pim smiling friends #pim pimling #charlie dompler #alan red #smiling friends headcanons #smiling friends x reader #smiling friends fanart #smiling friends glep #pride month #lgbt pride #writers on tumblr

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star-girl69 · 1 year ago

Text

Because Of You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

synopsis: years after your rite of passage, the boy who’s heart you broke just won’t leave you alone. clarisse, your girlfriend, quickly decides she’s not a fan.

a/n: should i stop procrastinating and then forcing myself to write shitty fics quickly? probably. but not today!! this is kinda just like an au of dont delete the kisses but… you guessed it… IDC!!!!!!!! from this ask

thank you all so much for patiently waiting i love y’all soooooo muuccchhhhhh 🫶🫶💋 as i mentioned on my acc i have the next week off from school, pls expect more content then!!

Because Of You - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, this sucks so bad y’all sorry lolllll, y/n is a year round camper!, starts out very background heavy but i really don’t care 😭, creepy men UGH, ugly bitches not being able to let shit go, im gonna say sexual harassment just incase, swearing, usual demigod stuff y’all know what you’re getting into, jealous!clarisse YESSS, possessive!clarisse ik i screamed!!, protective!clarisse too, slightly graphic makeout scene, i think that’s all, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

When you were young, you were thrilled by the thought of love.

The idea of belonging not only with someone- bodies fitting together like puzzles pieces- but belonging to someone- wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Later, your half-siblings would describe mostly similar experiences to yours- an overwhelming desire to be loved, wanted, needed. Ever since you ran into camp with a monster hot on your heels and satyr shouting encouragement next to you- everyone’s stared at you. They poke and prod, they act like they’ve never seen a daughter of Aphrodite before.

It’s annoying, but it makes you feel good- but not quite.

Until Alek came along.

You were both 13, you still believed in soulmates, and you wanted nothing more than to be with each other for the rest of your lives.

You were 13, and he felt like the only one for you.

And when you had to break up with him to fulfill your rite of passage- it felt like the world was ending. You cried for days and begged your sister Phoebe to say it wasn’t a true, it was just a mean, mean prank.

But she couldn’t tell you that, and there were more types of love that romantic.

While you longed to hold someone, to be held- you also craved your mother’s approval like you were starving. You wanted her love, you wanted her to visit you in your dreams, you wanted gifts from her, you wanted everything and anything she could give you.

So, it hurt like you had never known hurt before, but you did it. Alek seemed entirely indifferent to it, almost ignoring you and pretending you hadn’t said it- but you felt a warmness around you, a dove flew between trees, you knew your mother was there and she approved.

Breaking up with Alek felt like the sun had exploded on top of you.

Being with Clarisse felt like the sun was wrapped around you.

—-

After Alek’s initial denial, he went through all the other stages of grief, mourned your relationship like you did, and you came out on the other side with a one-sided agreement to forget it ever happened.

Alek got stuck. Or went back. He started to believe that you were still meant to be, that much you could tell.

Until that day at the training fields when your hand slipped at archery and you almost shot Clarisse in the head- and she had glared at you so harshly while you ran over and examined her head, gushing out apologies and fretting over her.

She pushed you away, hand lingering for a second, eyes softening before she quickly looked away.

“Just… be more careful,” she had said, almost like a question, like she wasn’t sure the words were coming out of her mouth.

And, Gods, were you terrified it was all some secret plan. Make you think it was alright only to corner you in the woods and probably kill you, or something.

And when she asked the next day to teach you how to shoot a bow, you agreed with tears in your eyes, knowing of her reputation, and it took a lot of trust and a lot of swapped secrets for her to prove to you it wasn’t all some elaborate plan.

But even if her plan was to kill you the entire time, you fell in love over her fixing your stance, hands brushing as you accidentally grabbed the same arrow, stolen looks across the pavilion.

It wasn’t until a random kid bumped into you, making you fall and twist your ankle. Clarisse had this look in her eyes that was so genuine, so full of love and care for you, softly caressing your leg after she had punched the other kid in the face.

And you realize as she said you were doing great, limping while she helped you to the infirmary, that this was something.

And as much as you hated the violence being committed over you, it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and the warmth in your chest was all you had ever wanted. This was what it was like to belong with someone, to someone, with her, to her.

This was what it was like to be admired. Loved. Wanted. Needed.

And when she softly told you goodbye, you had kissed the corner of her lips and thanked her- turning to walk into your cabin, ankle already feeling better thanks to the ambrosia.

She grabbed you by the wrist and turned you around, pulling you against her tightly and kissing you so harshly like she had just found the secret to the world in her lips on yours, her hands on your hips.

And when she finally pulled away, embarrassing strings of spit connecting your lips, she said she was sorry. Probably the first time she had ever said that to someone, and you smiled.

“Sorry. It’s just… once your lips were on mine, I don’t think I can ever stop. I don’t wanna stop.”

And she kissed you again and it was all you ever wanted out of this life- to love and be loved, to hold and to be held, and it was all because of her.

—-

The welcome back campfire is your favorite time of year.

It’s when the camp comes alive, when the Gods themselves seem to return to this place- even Mr. D is a bit more lively with all the pure infectious energy running through the first few days of camp. Everyone’s getting settled, classes haven’t started quite yet, and the year round campers get a much needed break.

As much as you and Clarisse wanted to keep things private, when she punches someone in the middle of the pavilion for accidentally bumping into you, it’s not hard to figure out Clarisse cares for you more than she does anyone else.

And after one of your younger siblings, Cara, a 12-year-old notorious for staying up late, saw you and Clarisse kissing that first night- it spread like wildfire.

But it was the winter, so it still felt secret, until summer rolled around and Clarisse kept getting more and more annoyed by every camper who entered the gates. She would grab at you in the middle of meals, drag you into her bed, even kiss you in public- do all these things that seemed so out of character for her, but she was a different person when she was with you.

Everyone had been looking at you oddly all night, shocked, confused, even Clarisse has cracked a genuine smile at someone who dropped their drink- squeezing your hand.

Maybe they had all heard the rumors. Maybe they didn’t believe them.

But it’s all cleared up when Clarisse leads you to the best seat, the log not too far from the fire but not too close, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your temple.

Your cheeks heat up, only because Clarisse is never this touchy in public, and never around this many people before.

All of the eyes on you feel weird- they feel so judging.

And you’re not used to that, however vain it may be.

“Everyone’s staring at us,” you mumble, shuffling closer to Clarisse so your legs are pressed together.

She leans her head against your shoulder. “‘S okay. Don’t worry about ‘em, baby.”

You huff. “Did no one ever teach them it’s rude to stare, though? Like… c’mon.”

She sighs dramatically, lifting her head from your shoulder.

“Stop fuckin’ staring,” she says. Not quiet shouting, but her voice is loud and forceful. Her voice carries weight.

And eventually, at the risk of Clarisse’s wrath, all the wandering eyes stop.

A few of Clarisse’s siblings laugh from around you, commenting that the stares were getting a bit ridiculous, everyone just grateful that you all might get a little reprieve from the overwhelming stares and whispers.

But, you still feel uneasy. Clarisse kisses your shoulder.

And while you look around at the faces very pointedly not staring at you, there’s one person who still is. You roll your eyes, open your mouth to comment on it- but your mouth quickly snaps close at the sight of Alek.

—-

You don’t mention it to Clarisse. Maybe because breaking his heart haunts you, maybe what could have been haunts you.

You try not to think of Alek or that night, you try not to think of the entire age of 13. You always knew that Alek never quite let you go. He still sort of believed that the two of you would come back together- subscribing to some abstract belief soulmates.

You don’t think about Alek. Everything you do is because of her, because of Clarisse.

Sometimes, knowing you have secret admirers makes you feel all happy, but now that Clarisse sneaks you into her cabin every night- it makes you feel weird. You really don’t want anyone except for Clarisse, the idea of even being near someone else kinda disgusts you.

But, you choose to believe that maybe he was just shocked, and he’ll get over it in a few days.

You spend your days in the summer sun with Clarisse, holding her hand on walks through the strawberry fields, still using your archery lessons to spend time together, staring at each other from across the pavilion at meals, dreaming about a future together when it gets dark and you’re forced to whisper softly.

Alek is just always lurking. Is it coincidence? Is he stalking you? Every time you’re with Clarisse, trying to enjoy a nice date, he’s there- staring at you like a lovesick puppy.

And if it wasn’t because of her, you would probably be flattered. But you have Clarisse, you’ve moved on, you’re in love and happy.

It’s the late afternoon, you’re trying to enjoy a long moment with her, breathe in the sweet smell and just feel how happy you are, know it’s because of her.

The fields are still crowded with kids who pushed off their chores until the end of the day, so you and Clarisse stay on the outskirts. Not too far into the woods that’s filled with satyrs and nymphs who have grown very hostile towards any two campers who make their way into the woods. But not too close.

You don’t even register that other people are there. You’re going on about your annoying half-brother, she’s pretending to listen intently- but it’s just enough to be here with her, and at least she’s listening to the sound of your voice. At least that brings her some comfort, and that makes you feel good.

“And then, he said-” you trail off, feeling like something’s crawling all over you, practically being able to feel the anger in the air.

“Hm, what?” Clarisse asks, snapping out of her reverie at your silence.

Alek is glaring at you, of course. It just feels so juvenile. You had received letters from him for years- ones that he didn’t sign- but you knew. He said that the two of you had so much more to give together, that a second chance was all he needed to make you forget about the rite of passage, about pleasing your mother.

Clarisse squeezes your hand, leaning closer to you.

You used to like the feeling of getting those letters, of knowing you were loved and wanted. But now, with Clarisse, because of her- it feels wrong.

She follows your eye line and Alek quickly looks away, back down at the strawberries he’s supposed to be picking.

Clarisse’s hand tightens around yours.

“Who the hell is that?” she huffs.

You suck in a breath. “Alek.”

“Al-huh?”

You smile, despite how uneasy you feel.

“Alek, Clarisse. From my rite of passage?”

“Oh,” she nods, nose scrunching ever so slightly. “The one who left you those creepy letters? Has he left anymore?”

“No, no,” you say, risking one more glance at his back- just to assure yourself. Maybe you’re just making it all up. “Not since last summer. I mean, he was staring at us the night of the bonfire too, he’s always around on all our dates- it’s just creepy, at this point.”

“Sounds like the fucker has a death wish,” she drawls. “I’d be happy to help him with it.”

You bump her shoulder with yours. “Yeah, yeah Miss Violence.”

She smiles back, but she searches her eyes and you can tell she doesn’t like what she sees.

“Hey, c’mon. I’ll kill him if he pulls some shit again.”

“Clarisse.”

“Beat him up?”

“Clarisse.”

“Physically threaten him?”

“Clar-”

She smacks her hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” she smiles. “Don’t stress. I’ll take care of it.”

“Clarisse!” you shout, laughing, but her hand is still pressed tight over your moth.

“Oh, sorry, baby, I can’t hear you!”

“Bitch,” you hiss, and she frowns.

“Mean.”

—-

Clarisse, unfortunately, is true to her word.

Alek finally leaves you a note. It’s simple, unsigned, but obviously him. You recognize his chicken scratch scrawl.

All it says is:

I miss you, we could be something

She writes him a note back, a long one- first talking about all of her accomplishments as a daughter of Ares, then detailing all the ways she’ll make him regret thinking about you.

She tells you now, whispers in her bed, she laughs and your mouth hangs open.

“Clarisse!” you gasp, scolding her with a soft hit to her shoulder.

She rolls her eyes and moves closer to you.

“What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it? You don’t know me if you think I could just ignore some random dude flirting with my girlfriend. He’s a fuckin’ weirdo, and hopefully that note will teach him somethin’.”

“I mean. I doubt it will,” you mumble after a moment.

She smiles, your heart squeezes- because her smile is so beautiful- and because Clarisse never smiles like this. It’s bloodthirsty. It’s almost inhuman. It’s Godly.

“Then I’ll have to teach him in… other terms.”

—-

Dinner this evening is slow and relaxed. It’s Friday, so you’ve all made it to the end of the first official week of camp. Chiron let’s the rules fade away tonight, cabin tables have been abandoned and everyone sits where they want.

A few Hermes kids volunteered to start a fire, Mr D is busy trying to get the new kids to sneak him some alcohol- but he’s hard pressed to find ones who haven’t already been warned not to.

The energy in the air is infectious. The promise of a late wake up tomorrow, a fun night, the feeling of the moon and the fire, warmth on your skin- it’s a recipe for lowered inhibitions, for everything to come a little easier.

Clarisse sits next to you a table in the pavilion. You’re surrounded by Silena and Beckendorf, a few Hermes kids, a few Ares kids- a big mosh of random campers squeezed together at this one table- but it works, for whatever reason.

There’s nothing like laughing at someone’s shitty joke and feeling Clarisse laugh with you, pressed close to her so you can feel her chest rumble, feel her arm squeeze around you.

“He did what?!” Silena screeches, looking at you with wide eyes.

You laugh at her shock, at the audacity of Alek.

She sneaks a quick glance at Clarisse, who seems entirely engrossed in her siblings’ arm wresting tournament at the next table over.

“Yeah,” you sigh, feeling sort of complacent with it now. It’s not like anything will change. You’re here because of her, because of Clarisse. Everything you do is because of her.

Breathing, eating, sleeping. Basic human functions and the need to survive has only strengthened with the motivation of staying alive for her.

“Anyways,” you smile. “Clarisse left him back this big, long note. All about how she’s the strongest girl at camp,” you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too big to be anything but joking. Besides, everyone knows she’s probably right. “And then threatened him a whole bunch. So, hopefully, he’ll just get his head out of his ass and then everything will be good again.”

You breathe out at the end of your small rant, and Silena smiles sympathetically.

“Hopefully,” she echoes.

But, because of Clarisse, because of her arms around you, you don’t feel anything but peace.

—-

Of course, life is not straightforward for demigods.

At the end of the day, you’re doomed to fall in your parents footsteps- except there is no immortality for you to fall back on. You’re vain and you’re proud, just like your parents, and you step too far, jump too high, and you’re as left dust on the floor.

Even though the same path had been left out for you to repeat, doomed footsteps to follow in, you step where they stepped and expect a different end.

The night is pitch black, besides for the brilliant stars and the bright, bright moon. It makes everything feel so private and secret. It makes Clarisse relax, makes her hold you closer but looser.

It feels good to feel her arm loose around you. She’s not afraid of you disappearing, because she knows of someone dragged you away you would rise up from the waves and straight back into her, into her arms.

The Apollo kids are playing music, voices hum along, the night is on fire with the crackles and the rising smoke, on fire with the peace, the content.

It feels like nothing can hurt you here.

But you’re a demigod, and life is not that easy.

The seat next to you is abandoned, and you barely even take notice as it’s quickly filled again- but you take notice of the eyes on you, of the body leaning forward to speak softly to you.

The fact that he’s here, the fact that he blatantly didn’t listen- you suppose you could have felt some sympathy for before, craving a life that wasn’t his anymore. Living off of memories made him too hungry.

Your mouth presses into a thin line as you recognize the voice in your ear.

“Y/N, I jus’ wanna talk.”

The rest of the table has fallen silent, and you realize everyone had almost immediately taken notice of his entrance- and you could tell by the way Clarisse’s body was tense against yours- he would regret ever coming over here.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, shifting closer to her.

She hooks her head over her shoulder, shifting completely so she’s straddling the bench, pressed up against your back.

Her tone is genuinely confused.

“Are you, like, okay in the head?”

The table, previously silent with fear, now bubbles with forced laughter.

“It’s not of your business,” Alek says, staring directly into your eyes. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, just completely shocked, too scared to move like it will all become real.

Clarisse puts her hand on your forehead and floats it down across your face, and your eyes voluntarily flutter shut.

“You’re not even worthy of being looked at by her,” and you can hear the smile on her voice. She confidence seeping from her pores- you can feel it all with the way she’s protectively wrapped around you.

“Y/N,” he says again, ignoring her through gritted teeth. “I just want to talk.”

“If you say one more fuckin’ word to my girlfriend I’m gonna kill you.”

There’s no smile on her voice, no edge of a joke. Not even angry. She’s deathly calm. She’s focused, like a 20 pound weight sinking to the bottom of the sea. She cuts through whatever she has to and everything else knows to avoid her.

You don’t know why the hell Alek just can’t let the 13 year old version of you go, why he’s looking something where there’s nothing, and you’re just so done with all of this.

You open your eyes, sitting up, letting Clarisse’s arms fall around you in confusion.

“Alek,” you start, softly. “We dated for a month when we were 13. That’s all it was, that’s all it’s ever gonna be. It’s over, okay?”

“Exactly,” he breathes. “A month when we were 13- and we were that good together? We could do so much more now, I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’m done,” you mumble, standing up.

And without you in between, Alek finally gets a good look at the daughter of war. She’s pure, streamlined muscle. Every inch of her body has been meticulously trained to kill monsters- Alek knows that killing him would be easy.

Clarisse cracks her knuckles and you almost laugh at how cinematic it is.

—-

You hum as you run the alcohol pad over her split knuckles. Clarisse likes to leave the scars like this, the small ones, let them heal on her own. Even though she winces at the feeling, you know she’ll be walking around, proudly showing off her scabs until they finally fade away. She’ll cross her fingers and hope they scar, probably.

Clarisse watches you with admiration, admiring your movements, your voice, even though you’re really not doing anything special. But, to her, everything you do is special.

“Did you see how bad his face was?” she asks, trying to remain calm, but eagerness slips into her voice.

“I did,” you laugh. “It was real bad, baby. Good job.”

She huffs, as if it’s common knowledge.

“I always do a good job, just matters what level of good I’m on. I think this was one of my best works though, huh?”

She admires her split knuckles and you roll your eyes, finally starting to put some bandaids on the clean wounds.

“You’re crazy,” you mutter.

She shrugs. “You’re the one who let me. You’re the one who loves me.”

“Yeah,” you mumble after a moment, not really wanting to lie to her, tease her right now. She smiles soft and sweet, placing her fingertips against your jawline and leaning forward.

“Did you like watching me?” she breathes, her low voice hitting you right in the stomach, breath against your lips.

You circle her biceps with your hands and run them up and down the tense muscle.

“You know I did.”

“Three months no dessert,” she smiles.

“Three months of sharing with you,” you laugh. She smiles wider before finally, mercifully, putting her lips on yours.

Everything you do is because of Clarisse. It feels so good to be close to her like this- practically in her lap- fo feel how strong she is, to know what she did for you today.

It feels so good to know she loves you.

When you pull away, trying to chase her, she dodges you and kisses your jawline, your neck, and you throw your head back and release the most unladylike sounds as she leaves hickies on your neck, seemingly determined to make them as dark as possible, as easy to see. And a lot of them.

“Jealous?” you say, biting your lip to keep in a moan.

“Just want everyone to know you’re my girl. Want everyone to know who makes you feel good, feel loved, huh?”

You stomach twists and your mind goes blank.

“Huh?” she repeats, sticking her face in your neck to breathe in and out, catching her breath. “Why you feelin’ like this, baby?”

“Because of you,” you breathe. “Because of you, Clarisse.”

—-

y/n walking around the next day looking like she got attacked by a vampire

silena trying to be happy for y’all but also concerned for your health

clarisse just being proud as hell

—-

this was small so idk if y’all picked it up but clarisse was jealous before alek even came along- jealous that there were more campers coming! like? she just doesn’t like unworthy losers looking at her girl 🙄

—-

possessive!clarisse i love you so much baby

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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reclinepilled · 1 year ago

Text

needy, e.w.

cw: fluff!!! little angst, pet names (baby, beautiful, sweetheart, princess, gorgeous) like one curse word, reader yells at ellie, reader cries a teeny tiny bit, no masc/fem roles are established

desc: gamer!ellie is glued to her game while your patience runs short. also soft!ellie🙏.

a/n: happy march 1st guys! i wanted to share something i wrote while procrastinating some work. thanks for all the support on my last two posts. also the anon that sent in the request, im working on it <3 thank you for reading and reblogs are welcomed and greatly appreciateddd !

wc: 801 (i think)

PLEASE READ HERE ON INFORMATION ABOUT AND HOW TO HELP PALESTINE!!!

you try not to be so needy, you really do. however, your heart can't help but get a little heavy watching ellie completely ignore your presence on one of your days off. and she's not even ignoring you to study or work, it's to play her stupid games.

sure, you played your fair share of video games, as you had an undying love for that one genre. however, you didn't come over under the impression that you'd be getting lonely in her bed, angry, while occasionally letting out a frustrated sigh. she didn't pay attention to those, too busy yelling at her friends on whatever fps shooter she was glued to.

you got angrier and angrier thinking about it and listening to her mash the buttons on her keyboard and throw insults out into her mic. you swear you can feel the annoyance in your bloodstream. you just wanted to do skincare and facemasks, watch some movies, and maybe even bake with your girlfriend. you decide to put your anger aside and give her the benefit of the doubt. you get up from her bed to remind her of what you two had planned. maybe she forgot?

"ellie, baby?" you say as you grab her shoulder softly to get her attention. she glances up at you then moves her headset off one of her ears, "yea- jesse, what the hell! he was literally one hp!" she yells. "anyways, sorry, what's up?" ellie finally gives you two scoops of her attention. "el, i thought we were gonna spend time together..," you say, shifting your weight to one leg as you cross your arms. "yea, yea, of course. just give me five more minutes," ellie says as she turns back to her game. "you literally said that 30 minutes ago, el," you sigh. "i mean it this time," ellie turns to you, doing a puppy face jokingly.

any other time you would burst into a fit of laughter, however right now, you were genuinely pissed off. you stare at her for a few seconds in silence, she stares back. her face slowly drops as she realizes you're pretty upset. next thing you know, you've reached over and put her pc into sleep mode. "y/n! why!??" she whines like a teenage boy going through puberty. "because, i came over on my day off to spend time with you, i could be getting a manicure or something.. but i've spent nearly an hour and a half watching you play this shitty game!" you yell then you walk out of her room, fed up. you grab your bag next to the couch and start to put your belongings away.

"sweetheart! i'm sorry, i really am!" she says as she follows you out of the room. you ignore her, now putting your bag on your shoulder. "look," ellie comes in front of you and softly slides the bag off of your shoulder, she notices how you're still looking down. she gently grabs your shoulders while looking down at you with an apologetic look on her face, "i am so sorry, i just got caught up in the game. i enjoy you being here, and i find your presence so comforting, beautiful. i never meant to make you feel unappreciated, i'm sorry once again." she takes her hand and lifts your face up, and notices your tear stained cheeks.

ellie's heart quite honestly shattered into a million pieces, she didn't know she made you feel so bad but she understands now. "baby, we can do whatever you want," she pulls you into a meaningful embrace while rubbing your back. "els, i love you, sorry for yelling and overreacting-" she cuts you off, "no don't apologize, it was pretty justified, i was being dumb," she lets out an airy laugh, "i love you back, princess."

she could feel you smile against her chest and it felt like 10 tons were lifted off of her back. she pulls away to place a soft kiss on your forehead, then your nose, one on your cheek, and long one on your lips.

you straddle her on her bed while softly chuckling at the cute fuzzy animal headband you placed on ellie's head. you roll the jade roller all over her face, working in the serum you applied before. you can't help but admire how pretty she is. her constellations of freckles, each one so unique, her breathtaking deep eyes, and her long lashes you were so jealous of. little did you know, she was doing the same. you looked like a goddess from this angle, the light cascading down on your perfect figure emphasizing it. "hey baby?" ellie grabs your wrist. "yea, gorgeous?" you slightly lean back from her face, raising a brow.

"it's really hot when you yell at me."

reclinepilled

please do not plagiarize any of my works or post them on other websites without given permission !

#reclinepilled writes <3 #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #smut #ellie williams fluff #ellie fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie angst #abby anderson #abby tlou #the last of us

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rosemariiaa · 10 months ago

Text

~Lines We Drew~

part: 4

pairing- Paige x Azzi

a/n: im done procrastinating , sorry for the long wait don’t be angry yk ily, next part will be longer!💌

themes: fluff, teasing,drinking

Enjoy!!!

Paige groaned, waking up to a quiet apartment. The sunlight peeked through her curtains, way too bright for this early in the morning. Rubbing her eyes, she slid out of bed, her legs heavy as she padded toward the bathroom. But as she cracked her door open, she froze.

Azzi was already awake. She was curled up on the couch, oversized Georgetown shirt falling slightly off her shoulder, her pink glasses perched on her nose as she typed on her laptop. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, but somehow, it looked like she’d spent hours perfecting it. Paige blinked, forgetting what she was supposed to be doing as she leaned against the doorframe, just… watching her.

God, how was someone allowed to look that good so early?

Azzi glanced up and caught Paige staring. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “You’re up early,” she teased, her voice soft but playful. “Enjoying the view or something?”

Paige almost choked. “Wha—no!” Her cheeks burned as she scrambled for an excuse. “I… I was just… bathroom!” She pointed awkwardly toward the bathroom door, clearly flustered. Azzi let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Right. Sure, Bueckers.”

Paige darted into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a groan. She pressed her forehead against the cool surface of the mirror, trying to collect herself. “Get it together,” she muttered under her breath, but the smile creeping onto her face gave her away.

When Paige finally came out of the bathroom, Azzi was still there, but now, her eyes flicked up again, a mischievous look in them that made Paige’s stomach flip.

“Back for more?” Azzi teased, biting her lip.

Paige rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Maybe. Got something to show off?” She leaned on the counter, trying not to make it obvious how close they were standing. Azzi shrugged, leaning back and letting her eyes wander just a little. “Maybe I do.” Her voice dropped, and Paige felt her throat go dry. The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick.

Paige let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, okay, stop.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I won’t survive breakfast if you keep this up.”

———-

I watched Paige retreat to the kitchen, trying not to laugh out loud. It’s honestly too easy to get under her skin. Seeing her blush like that? Kind of addictive, not gonna lie.

I stretched out on the couch, adjusting my glasses and pretending to focus back on my laptop. But, honestly, my mind kept drifting to her. That look she gave me earlier… softer than usual, almost like she was letting her guard down for a second. Not that she’d admit it.

“Can’t believe she’s still so easy to fluster,” I muttered under my breath, smirking at the thought. But there was something else going on here, something I didn’t expect. The teasing between us—it felt comfortable, natural. Like we’d been doing this forever. It’s not like we’re best friends or anything, well atleast not anymore.., but there’s a rhythm to it.

The real question is… why do I like it so much? Why do I care about her reaction? It’s just Paige, right?

————

The team slowly trickled back into Paige’s apartment. It was their day off, a chance to unwind before the big game against Villanova. Caroline was already in the kitchen with Paige, rummaging through the fridge, trying to decide on breakfast.

“I’m thinking pancakes,” Caroline said, glancing over her shoulder. Paige was at the stove, absently flipping a pancake while her mind wandered back to Azzi. The conversation from earlier still played in her head, like a loop she couldn’t turn off.

Just as Paige started getting into the flow of breakfast, Azzi walked in. The tension hit instantly. Paige noticed Azzi before she even spoke—there was just something about her presence that made the room feel different. Azzi walked over to the counter, carrying a bowl of cereal. “Mind if I crash the breakfast party?” she asked, her voice light but teasing.

Caroline, catching onto the shift in the air, grinned. “Sure, join the chaos.”

Azzi slipped into the kitchen beside Paige, and despite the casual vibe, the air between them felt charged. Too close. Paige reached for a spoon at the same time Azzi did, their fingers brushing together.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Careful, Bueckers. You might burn something.”

Paige rolled her eyes, trying to hide the heat crawling up her neck. “Please. You’re the one eating cereal for breakfast. Not exactly a pro move.” Azzi laughed quietly, leaning a little closer. “Cereal’s a classic. You just wish you could be as cool as me.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Paige shot back, but her voice was softer than usual, the tension thick in the air between them.

Just then, Nika barged into the kitchen, breaking the moment. “Yo! Are we eating today or next week? Come on, I’m starving!”

Paige quickly pulled her hand away, her heart still racing as she turned her attention back to the stove. Azzi stepped back too, her smirk lingering as she headed back to the couch.

———-

Azzi’s POV

After breakfast and too many tiktok’s , we all gathered in the living room, lounging around on the couches. The conversation had drifted from stupid jokes to more random topics when KK suddenly leaned forward, her eyes lighting up like she had the best idea.

“You know what we should do tonight?” she said, her voice dripping with mischief per usual. “What’s that?” Aubrey asked, already sounding suspicious.

KK shot a grin at Caroline before looking at the rest of us. “Truth or drink.”

A chorus of groans and laughs filled the room. Caroline clapped her hands together, immediately on board. “Ooh, it’s been a minute since we did that!” Aubrey sighed dramatically. “Here we go. This is how secrets come out.”

“Exactly!” KK smirked. “Perfect game for a night like this.”

I shifted uncomfortably, my mind already racing at the thought. Truth or drink could get really intense, especially with this group. The idea of Paige and I being in the same room, having to answer personal questions, made my stomach flip. “Are we seriously doing this?” “Of course we are,” KK said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Caroline leaned in closer to me, her smile mischievous. “This could be very interesting.” I rolled my eyes, trying to shake off the unease. “I swear, you guys are gonna get someone in trouble.” Nika, who had been quietly observing, nodded her head in agreement. “I’m in. This could be good.”

Paige, lounging casually on the other side of the room, gave a small shrug, but her eyes gleamed with amusement. “Sounds fun.” Ice grinned, rubbing her hands together. “Alright, we’re doing this. Let’s get the drinks.”

Nika, Paige, and Ice quickly stood up, already making plans to head out and grab some liquor for the game. “We’ll be back in a bit,” Nika called over her shoulder as they made their way out the door.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Caroline turned to me with a grin. “Sooo… about earlier.”

I narrowed my eyes, knowing exactly where this was going. “Don’t even start.”

KK laughed, pointing a finger at me. “Oh, come on! The closeness between you and P? The spoons? That was definitely something, can’t deny it .”

I could feel my cheeks heating up. “It was nothing. You guys are just making it weird.”

Aubrey joined in, her voice full of amusement. “Sure, it was nothing. Totally normal to stand that close and brush hands twice.” Caroline nudged me, her teasing relentless. “You were all flustered. Admit it.”

I bit my lip, trying to stay calm, but I could feel the warmth creeping up my neck. “Okay, yeah, maybe it was… a little awkward.”

The girls burst out laughing, and Caroline shook her head. “A little? You were practically red, Azzi.” I crossed my arms, trying to act unfazed. “Whatever. Let’s just wait for the girl to come back and get this game over with.”

Before I could even try to explain away the moment in the kitchen, the front door swung open, and in walked Nika, Paige, and Ice. Nika came in first, waving a bottle of tequila like it was some kind of trophy. “Alright, ladies! Time to get this party started,” she said, dropping the bottle onto the table.

Ice followed behind with a mischievous grin, carrying a couple more bottles of vodka and whiskey, while Paige sauntered in last, a little smirk on her face. She held up a few shot glasses, clinking them together like she was setting the mood for something wild. My heart did a weird flip when our eyes met, but I quickly looked away.

“Hope you’re ready for some real fun,” Ice teased, setting everything down. “Truth or drink is about to get serious.” “Yeah, right,” Caroline shot back. “Azzi’s already squirming over here.” KK snorted, leaning over to nudge me. “She’s just scared we’re gonna find out something juicy.”

I tried to play it cool, leaning back in my seat. “Please, I’m not scared of you guys.”

But the way Caroline and KK exchanged looks, I knew I was in for it. “We’ll see about that,” Caroline said with a wink, which only made me more flustered.

“Let’s get this started then!” Nika poured out the first round of shots, setting them in front of everyone. “Azzi, you’re up first. Truth or drink?”

I paused, knowing whatever I chose was going to put me in a tough spot. “Truth,” I answered, maybe a little too confidently. KK wasted no time, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Alright, Azzi. Have you ever had a… steamy dream about anyone you know, recently?”

My heart skipped a beat. What kind of question is that?

The room went silent, and I felt all eyes on me. My throat tightened, and I could feel my cheeks burning. I tried to play it off, looking anywhere but at Paige, who was watching me like she was waiting for something.

“I plead the fifth,” I muttered quickly, reaching for my shot and throwing it back in one go. The alcohol burned on the way down, but it was nothing compared to the heat crawling up my neck.

The girls burst into laughter, Caroline nearly falling off the couch. “Wow, that was fast!” “Now we know you’re hiding something,” Ice teased, and even Aubrey, who was usually quieter, was giggling at my expense.

Paige, on the other hand, just smirked. “Interesting choice, Azzi.” I shot her a look, trying not to give anything away, but the way she was looking at me made it hard to focus.

The game continued, moving through some fun but uncomfortable questions, like when Ice admitted to making out with someone in the closet during a team event, or when Nika confessed to sending a nasty text to the wrong person while drunk . By the time the bottle swung back around to me, I had managed to mostly stay under the radar—until Paige leaned forward, her gaze fixed on me.

“Alright, Azzi. Truth or drink?” Paige’s voice was low, calm, but there was something playful about the way she said it. I already knew whatever was coming wouldn’t be easy.

“Truth,” I answered, despite the knot forming in my stomach.

Paige’s lips curved into that sly smile of hers. “If you had to kiss someone in this room tonight… who would it be?”

The air practically crackled with tension. Everyone’s eyes were on me again, but this time, it felt more intense. Of course, she would ask that. I blinked, my mouth going dry. I could feel my heart pounding, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. I could either say something that would make this situation ten times worse, or I could chicken out and take another shot.

Without thinking, I grabbed the glass and downed it in one swift motion. The girls broke out in a mix of laughter and teasing groans.

“Come on, Azzi!” Caroline whined. “That’s a cop-out!” KK raised her eyebrows. “So someone in here’s got you twisted, huh?”

I just shook my head, my cheeks burning as I avoided Paige’s eyes. I could feel her staring, though, the weight of it making it hard to breathe. I was not about to let them drag me into whatever they were trying to start, not tonight.

———-

Paige’s POV

Azzi couldn’t even look at me after that.

Her quick little shot answer had the room buzzing, but all I could think about was how she refused to answer me directly. She could’ve picked anyone… but she didn’t.

I leaned back, trying to keep my cool, even though the teasing from the other girls was only getting louder. Nika was giving Ice some grief about her last answer, and Aubrey had retreated into the kitchen to grab snacks, but my focus stayed on Azzi.

She was sitting on the other side of the room, her cheeks still pink, trying to laugh along with everyone else. She looked so different from the Azzi I knew years go. The Azzi I knew on the court—more vulnerable, more… open. And it was throwing me off. I could feel this weird pull between us, something I couldn’t quite explain. But I didn’t hate it.

“You alright over there, Bueckers?” Ice asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. “You’ve been real quiet.” I shrugged, reaching for my drink. “Just enjoying the show.”

Ice laughed, rolling her eyes. “Whatever you say. You’re next, by the way.”

I smirked, setting down my glass. “Bring it on.”

Nika leaned forward, rubbing her hands together like she was about to deliver the final blow. “Alright, Paige. Truth or drink?”

“Truth.” No hesitation.

“Fine,” Nika grinned. “Who’s the last person you thought about kissing?”

The girls gasped, and I felt my stomach flip. I knew this game was supposed to be fun, but Nika’s question hit a little too close to home. My mind immediately went to Azzi—our moment in the kitchen, her teasing smile, the way she brushed me off when I was staring at her.

I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing I had to answer. “I’m not taking the shot,” I said, giving her a look that said don’t push it.

Nika raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, fair enough.”

Azzi shifted in her seat, and for a split second, our eyes met. There it was again—that unspoken thing between us, the tension, the heat. I couldn’t shake it, even if I wanted to.

———-

Azzi’s POV

I was lounging on the couch, sipping my drink and trying to keep my mind from wandering too much—especially not to Paige. But it was hard, especially with the way she’d been looking at me lately. Things felt… different. I wasn’t sure what had changed, but I knew something had.

Aubrey, who had been sitting next to me most of the night, nudged me gently. “So… you and P?”

I blinked, caught completely off guard. “What about me and Paige?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but I could feel a slight blush creeping up my neck. She had to be messing with me, right?

Aubrey gave me a little side-eye, clearly amused. “C’mon, Azzi. Don’t play dumb. You two have been all…” She waved her hand, gesturing vaguely between me and Paige. “Weird lately.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to laugh it off, but my heart was racing. “You’re seeing things, Aubrey. There’s nothing going on. Paige is just… being Paige.” “Uh-huh.” Aubrey wasn’t buying it, not even for a second. “So you didn’t feel anything when you two were practically on top of each other in the kitchen earlier?”

I groaned internally. Of course she’d bring that up. I mean, of course I felt something. How could I not? My skin still buzzed from where her fingers brushed mine. But I wasn’t about to admit that, especially not with Paige lurking around. I glanced her way, and yup, there she was, acting like she was stretching or something, but clearly trying to overhear what we were talking about.

“I’m serious,” I muttered, keeping my voice low so Paige wouldn’t hear. “She’s just messing with me. Probably trying to get in my head before the game or something.” Aubrey just smiled knowingly. “Right… Or maybe she’s trying to get into something else,” she said with a wink, making me choke on my drink.

I shot her a look, but before I could come up with a comeback, Paige wandered over, not even trying to hide the fact that she was listening. “What are you two whispering about over here?” she asked, sounding way too casual for someone who was clearly dying to know.

“Nothing that concerns you, Bueckers,” Aubrey said, leaning back with a smirk. I could feel Paige’s eyes on me, like she was waiting for me to say something, but I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.

Instead, I just shrugged and kept my eyes on my drink. “Yeah, nothing important,” I muttered, trying to act like I wasn’t flustered. But my heart was pounding, and I could still feel Paige’s stare on me as she reluctantly turned and walked away. Aubrey shot me another look and whispered, “Told you.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

After Paige walked away, Aubrey didn’t waste a second. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on between you two? You’re acting all weird around each other.”

I bit my lip, trying not to look too obvious. “I don’t know, Aubs. It’s complicated. I don’t even think Paige knows what’s going on, and honestly, I’m trying not to overthink it.”

Aubrey looked like she was about to say something else, but then she noticed Paige not-so-subtly standing near the door, trying to act like she wasn’t listening. Aubrey smirked and raised her voice a little, just loud enough for Paige to hear.

“Well, whatever it is, you’re both terrible at hiding it.”

I shot Aubrey a look. “Not helping.”

She shrugged, grinning. “Just saying.”

Paige, still hovering by the door, shot us a glance, like she was debating whether to come over again or not. But then Nika yelled for her from the kitchen, and she finally gave up and walked away, leaving me and Aubrey alone again. “So,” Aubrey said, lowering her voice again. “You gonna tell me how you really feel about her, or are you gonna keep pretending like you’re not totally into her?”

I groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. “I don’t even know, Aubrey. She’s just… she’s Paige. She’s annoying and competitive and always trying to one-up me. And…”

“And?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “And sometimes I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Aubrey’s smirk widened. “There it is.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, but I was smiling. Because deep down, even if I didn’t want to admit it, she was right.

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #rosie’s roses<3

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awlwgeneraldinosaur · 5 months ago

Text

"You know you're a cuddler"

Pairing: Joanne (Company)/fem!reader

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 5.2k

Tags: Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Flu, Hangovers

Summary: Joanne is sick but goes out anyway, reader is drunk but notices and demands to take her home

Yeah this happened bc im procrastinating but hey ho, another self indulgent fic appears.

Thank you @etherynn for keeping me company and being my theasaurus while i was writing this at 1am.

"You know youre a cuddler"

A night out at a bar with your friends was the perfect way to relax after a long week of client meetings and deadlines. You're happily drinking your third or fourth cocktail (who's really keeping count?) when you notice Joanne distancing herself from the group, quieter, more reserved, and more concerningly, barely touching her martini.

You slink over to the booth she has withdrawn to, shuffling along the bench until your shoulders brush.

“You,” you sigh pointedly, waving an unsteady hand at her “are acting weird.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs quietly around the rim of her glass. She doesn't drink, just letting her mouth rest there as she feigns irritation at your presence.

“You’re drunk” She mutters dryly, eyeing your waving hand and slightly glassy eyes.

Your drops in offence, gasping out in indignation despite the truth in her words. “I am not drunk” you protest, petulant whine slipping from your mouth.

Joanne just rolls her eyes at you and slumps back against the booth. You mirror her movements, leaning back against the padded back of the bench, your head lolling slightly to the side as you focus your gaze on her. you scan over her form, she's acting weird but you can't quite put your finger on why. Your eyes scan over her face, the slight pinch of her brow, the rosy glow on her cheeks that's just a bit too red, the circles under her eyes peeping through her concealer. Sliding down the seat a little, you reach over, poking at her nose to try to get a reaction.

Joanne’s frown deepens and she smacks away your hand.

“Dont.”

Your hand drops down to the table with a dejected thud. Of your group of friends, Joanne has always been the most lenient with you, never pushing too hard, or throwing too many insults your way, always making sure you got home safe and that you were eating enough to counteract all the alcohol she bought you without question. She’d let you curl into her side when the world started spinning and your words started to slur, carefully coaxing you into a taxi and taking you home. Her home. Never yours.

“I want to keep you where I can see you, baby” she’d murmur, nudging you though her townhouse towards her bedroom. You didnt question it of course, sinking into the plush mattress, letting her twist and move your body as she changed you into a set of her pyjamas. Again, you'd never questioned the affection she'd give you, settling into her care without second thought.

The sudden rejection stung. More than you'd care to admit. She had never frozen you out like that before, especially not for something so simple, but the sharpness of her voice startled you a little.

You clear your throat and sit up a little, biting down on your lip in a mix of nervousness and concern for the other woman.

“Sorry,” you mumble, gaze dropping away from her face to the mostly empty glass in your hand. A sigh echoes across the booth as Joanne weakly runs a hand through her hair.

“Don't apologise” she mutters, dropping her hand to rest over yours in the space between you. Her hand is hot, unnaturally so, slightly sweaty skin brushing over your cold fingers.

Turning your hand over, you lace your fingers with hers, taking note of the clammy skin.

“You're hot” you comment quietly. Your eyes flick to your hand for a moment and then up to her face.

Her eyes are close, brow still pinched but a light sheen of sweat glistens across her forehead. Concern for her spiking, you ignore her previous warning, pressing the back of your free hand against her forehead.

You sit up a little straighter, shuffling closer and sobering up a bit.

“You're burning up” you gasp quietly, worry colouring your tone.

This time when she tries to bat away your hand, you smack her hand right back, too concerned about her to listen to her complaints. She grumbles at you and tries to jerk her head away from your hand, muttering about how “She's fine” and “it's just the alcohol”. You scowl at her, knowing she'd barely had a sip.

“Joanne” you chide, “You're sick”

Joanne immediately goes to protest your accusation but you cut her off with a firm glare she can feel even with her eyes closed. She lets out a long, reluctant sigh.

“Maybe” she mutters, finally slumping down fully in the booth. She finally relinquishes her grip on her martini, setting it down on the table. You scoot closer to her, cupping her face in your cool palms.

“Why did you come out tonight?” you demand, “you should be at home”. You run your thumbs over her cheeks, the cool metal of your rings making her hiss slightly as they press against her burning skin.

"I'm fine.” Joanne mutters, leaning into your touch. You can see the fight starting to leave her body, replaced by exhaustion.

"I didn't want to worry you” she murmurs, her eyes fluttering close. “I didn't want to worry anyone”

Her head dips, resting against your shoulder. You can feel the heat practically radiating from her skin as she leans on you, her body shivering weakly as chills start to take over. The fact she was willingly leaning against you was concerning in itself. The fact she was doing it in public? That had you freaking out and sobering up, worry coiling uncomfortably in your stomach.

Even the press of her hot face against your neck is uncomfortable, sweat slicked skin barely touching you, yet you can feel her fever-high temperature.

Your concern deepens as you feel the heat radiating from her skin, her breath coming in short, almost panting huffs. Joanne tries to pull away, but you shift slightly, keeping her firmly against you as she tries to move.

"Joanne, you're not fine” you say, voice firm with worry and slight panic. “You're really sick”. She makes a weak noise of protest, her attempts to free herself from your grip weakening.

“I'm too hot,” she whines. It's a little shocking, the petulant, whiney, almost childish tone she uses compared to her usual snark and it makes your stomach twist tighter. You brush her hair back from her face and tap her chin until she looks at you.

“I'm taking you home” you decide, immediately shushing her as she goes to protest again “you have a fever, you're sick, I'm taking you home”

A small pout appears on her lips even as she nods weakly. Her usual sharp defiance has evaporated, replaced with a tired resignation.

“Fine” she croaks weakly, the word catching in her throat.

You slide out of the booth, and she follows your lead, slowly rising to her feet. She sways a bit, stumbling slightly, and you reach out, wrapping your arm around her waist to help steady her.

Despite your own drunkenness, you are surprisingly steady on your feet as you lead Joanne out of the bar, waving a quick goodbye to your friends as you pass. The cool night air is a shock to the both of you, pleasant and refreshing in your case, a step too far in Joanne's.

Her shivering starts almost immediately as the cold night air hits her like a tidal wave. She slumps weakly against you, her body trembling against your side as you help her towards a taxi bank.

Even with your added support, her steps are slightly faltering and sluggish, her head lolling against your shoulder as you half walk, half drag her across the sidewalk.

“Come on, we're almost there” you murmur reassuringly, hailing down a taxi.

It pulls up next to you and you help Joanne slide into the back before following her, giving the driver her address without second thought. It briefly crosses your mind that Joanne has never been to your apartment but you push the thought aside in favour of murmuring soft reassurances into her ear as the taxi pulls away from the curb.

Joanne leans against you heavily in the back of the taxi, her head resting on your shoulder as the streets pass by in a blur. Her eyes are half closed, and only a small groan comes from her when she shivers particularly hard.

“Cold” she mutters, voice so quiet you have to strain to hear her. Her body is still radiating heat, you can feel sweat clinging to her, her skin slippery and clammy where your arms are pressed together

You hum in acknowledgement but press your hand against her neck, feeling the heat of her skin.

“You've got a fever, honey” you sigh softly, “you'll start feeling better when we're home”

Joanne lets out a weak whine, burying her face into your neck, her overheated skin pressing against yours. The temperature difference between the two of you is stark and uncomfortable, but you find yourself shifting closer to her as she huddles against you.

She murmurs against your skin, the words mostly incoherent, but you catch snippets of “cold” and “hot” and a mumbled “don't feel good.”

“I know, I know,” you murmur. It's a little unnerving seeing her like this, vulnerable and needy. You've always been able to see through the sarcasm and dramatics to the soft, gentle woman underneath, but it's rare you see her looking so weak. Sure, there have been times when you've both been drunk and she's taken you back to hers where she curls into your side once she thinks you're asleep, but you've always put it down to the alcohol.

Now, it's different. She's not drunk, sick maybe, but you know for certain that if it were anyone else, she would have told them to get lost a long time ago, and they certainly wouldn't have been allowed to take her home even if they had managed to convince her she was sick. It makes your heart squeeze a little, a little fuzzy feeling blooming in your chest that you firmly decide to ignore because you're drunk and that's definitely the only reason you're feeling that way. Not because you've started craving the nights out where she loops her arm around your waist and steers you through her townhouse, murmuring soft praises about how well you're behaving for her even though you're drunk. Definitely not because every touch, even if she's feverish and sweating, makes your heart sing.

You firmly push those thoughts away as the taxi pulls up outside Joanne's, reaching into her purse and paying for the taxi with her card before she has the chance to demand you let her pay. Despite the certainty with which you are acting, you know you're still tipsy, and you really don't want to argue with her when you're both in a state. So, for once, you don't fight it.

She stirs from your shoulder, mumbling about paying.

“Already done it” you mutter to her, shoving her card back into her purse.

Joanne makes a soft noise of annoyance, and she tries to rise to protest, but her strength fails her. A brief flash of irritation passes over her face, but it's gone in an instant, replaced with a look of exhaustion and resignation.

You shift as you slide out of the taxi, helping Joanne exit as well. She stumbles as she stands, leaning heavily on you for support. She tries to straighten up, to put on her usual air of indifference, but she can't hide her shaking limbs or the soft moan that escapes her pale lips.

Guiding her to the door with your arm linked through hers, you rummage through her purse to find her keys. You unlock the door quickly, ushering her inside. You kick your heels off in the hallway, feeling much steadier on your feet now you're not four inches off the floor. You grab hold of her shoulders to hold her still and then crouch down in front of her, steadying yourself with your hands braced on her hips.

Joanne looks down at you with bleary eyes, a slight frown on her face. Her normally sharp gaze is dulled, and her cheeks are still flushed with fever.

She tries to protest, to insist that she can take off her shoes herself, but her words come out slurred and incoherent. She stumbles forward weakly, her hands falling to your shoulders as she sways unsteadily on her feet.

You tighten your drip on her hips, steadying her. Once she's stable, you slide your hands down to her shoes, unbuckling the straps and helping her step out of them. Throwing them off to the side, you stand back up, hands back on her hips for balance.

She leans on you heavily, her head dropping forward to rest on your shoulder. She's heavy, and uncoordinated, her limbs loose and boneless without her usual elegance. She shivers again, her body wracked with chills as her temperature spikes further.

You can feel the heat radiating from her skin, the sweat dampening the fabric of your shirt where it touches her face. She moans softly, the sound muffled against your neck.

“Are you going to make it upstairs or do you want to sleep on the sofa?” you murmur gently, letting your hands run along her sides.

You hear her let out a muffled whine into your shoulder. You decide to lead her into the living room, gently pushing her onto the couch. Disappearing from her sight for a moment you grab a cup of water from the kitchen.

Joanne protests faintly as you guide her to the couch and push her down to sit, but her words are drowned out by a rough, dry cough. She curls in on herself, her limbs trembling as chills rack her body.

You return with the water, crouching in front of her as she slumps against the couch cushions.

“Drink” you order her gently, holding the cup to her lips.

She nods weakly, eyes drifting closed as she parts her lips and lets you help her drink. The cool water soothes her throat, and she manages a few small sips before turning her head away, refusing the rest. She's still shivering, her body trembling uncontrollably as chills rack her frame.

You grumble quietly as she refuses to continue drinking.

“You're stubborn as hell, you know that?” you huff, setting the glass aside.

The room slowly starts spinning around you. Now you are safe and home, Joanne’s house, you remind yourself, you can feel the effects of the alcohol coming back. Groaning, you shift from crouching by the sofa to sitting on the floor, resting your head against the cushions.

"I know” she mutters weakly, her voice cracking on the words.

Her body is still trembling, and she wraps her arms tightly around herself in an attempt to find some warmth. Despite the illness, she still manages a tired smirk as she sees you slump against the couch, the alcohol catching up with you.

"You're slurring” she observes.

“Shut up”

Joanne lets out a small laugh at your retort, wincing a little as it sends a sharp wave of pain through her head.

"You're tipsy” she teases, her voice weak but still holding a firmness to it.

She shivers again, her whole body shaking violently as sweats and chills take over her.

You feel the shaking of her body against your shoulder and clumsily bring your hand up to run soothingly along her leg.

“Actually, I'm inclined to say I'm drunk,” you mutter dryly. She's right, your words do slur together a little, even more so because your head is buried in the cushion she's sat on.

"I'm surprised you admit it” she mumbles weakly, her words interrupted by another round of violent shivering. Despite her illness, there's a familiar sarcasm to her voice.

She attempts to straighten up slightly, but it only seems to make her more unsteady, and she teeters on the edge of the couch, her eyes fluttering closed. She lets out a weak groan, her hand reaching out to clutch at the fabric of your shirt.

“Stay.”

It's a hoarse, quiet command, but it carries the same firmness you know so well. Despite her illness, Joanne still manages to demand things from you, still acts as if she has any right to tell you what to do. But you can hear the vulnerability in her voice this time too. She wants you to stay, craves the support and stability you provide even when she is at her weakest.

Your head spins a little and you look up with a weak smile. You take in her trembling form, the sweat-slicked hair sticking to her forehead, the feverish flush on her cheeks.

“Honey I can barely walk” you tease. You know that's not why she wants you to stay, but you know how much she hates being vulnerable, even in front of you.

Joanne scoffs weakly at your comment, her usual smirk making an appearance. But there's no real bite to her words, her strength fading fast.

“Don’t honey me” she mutters, a hint of irritation in her voice.

But despite her sharp words, her grip on your shirt tightens, her hand tugging weakly on the fabric as if trying to bring you closer. You let her tug at your shirt until youre next to her on the sofa, the room lurching as you collapse into an undignified heap of limbs.

“Why not?” you sigh dramatically, wincing as your head starts pounding.

“you're so sweet,” you add sarcastically, letting your arm flop across your eyes.

She's still shivering, her whole body trembling next to you, but she leans into your touch when your arm hits her side, resting her head against the sofa cushion next to yours.

"This is your fault" she mutters, her voice weak but still carrying some of her usual sass.

You lift your arm away from your eyes and squint over at her.

“How the hell is this my fault?” you groan.

Joanne rolls her eyes weakly, even that miniscule movement making her wince. But she still manages a weary smirk.

"You got me sick" she mutters, her voice hoarse. She tries to prop herself up, but her strength fails her again, and she slumps against the couch, her head lolling heavily against the cushion.

You reach out and brush her hair out of her face, even as your jaw drops in offence.

“That's not-” you go to protest. But then you cut yourself off. That's not strictly untrue. A few weeks ago you had been sick, with very similar symptoms, but by the time you had seen your friends again your symptoms had cleared up. Then again, you'd spent that whole evening pressed into Joanne's side, still a little tired and clingy so it's possible you might have made her sick then and it was only just affecting her. You let out a reluctant sigh.

“Okay, maybe this is my fault,” you admit softly, “but I didn't mean to.”

Joanne lets out a weak huff of laughter at your reluctant acceptance, a hoarse sound that is cut off by a soft cough.

"Oh, so now you admit it" she mutters, her voice thick with fatigue and irritation. Despite her annoyance, there's no real anger in her words, only a hint of resignation.

The fever is really taking a toll on her body, her shivering growing more violent by the second, her teeth chattering together uncontrollably. She presses closer to you, seeking the warmth your body provides.

A whine of protest escapes you as she presses her overheating body into you. Despite your ice cold hands, the rest of your body runs hot, so the warmth from her body makes you overheat almost instantly.

“Too hot, get off” you groan.

Despite her sickness, Joanne can't help but let out a weak scoff at your protest, even as she trembles violently next to you.

"But I'm cold," she mutters weakly, resting her forehead against your shoulder.

She shifts a bit further, pressing closer to your body, seeking the warmth she craves. Her skin is hot to the touch, but her teeth are still chattering together uncontrollably, her body trying to fight off the fever.

“No you're not,” you whine, “you're sweating all over me,”

She ignores your protests and remains pressed into you, her arm wrapping over your waist and clenching in the side of your shirt. You're too drunk and uncoordinated to wiggle yourself out of her grasp so you whine loudly and resign yourself to overheating.

Despite your protest, Joanne shows no signs of moving, her grip on your shirt remaining tight as she presses herself against you. Her breathing is laboured, raggedy and harsh as the chills wrack her body, her skin feverish and damp with sweat.

"Shut up" she grumbles weakly, hiding her face in the crook of your neck. Her body is trembling uncontrollably, shivering and shuddering, but she refuses to let go.

You're not sure how long you sit there, smothered by the other woman, feeling her shuddering body against yours. Your eyes are closed, still feeling dizzy from drinking and your body never stops protesting the heat radiating from Joanne's body, but you're too tired to fight it anymore, gently slipping in and out of sleep.

Despite her fevered state, exhaustion slowly catches up to Joanne too and eventually, her breathing slows, her trembling body stilling as it succumbs to sleep.

Occasionally, she lets out a soft moan of discomfort, but her grip on your shirt remains firm, her body pressed tightly against you even in unconsciousness.

By morning, you've sobered up enough to realise you may have drank too much and that the pounding headache you feel behind your eyes is only going to get worse. You can still feel Joanne pressed up against your side but unlike earlier, the heat of her skin is not oppressive, her fever having broken while you both slept.

A small grunt of complaint from Joanne alerts you to her waking, and her grip on your shirt tightens as she tries to burrow tighter into you, seeking comfort.

There’s a moment of silence as she slowly regains consciousness, but she quickly stiffens as awareness fully returns to her. You can almost hear her brain slowly processing what’s happened, remembering the events of the night before, the illness, the clinging, the vulnerability.

“Stop it” you grunt, feeling her rapidly trying to put her walls back up.

There's a brief moment of hesitation, her grip on your shirt going slack as she fights with herself, struggling with the vulnerability of their current position.

But then she takes a deep breath, her body relaxing slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about," she mutters stubbornly. The snark in her voice is half-hearted, her usual tone softened by tiredness and a faint shakiness from the remnants of her illness.

You lift your arm to rest over her waist, gently stroking along the curve of her hip.

“Do you feel better?” you ask gently.

Joanne's breath hitches at your touch, a shiver running through her body. She doesn't answer at first, her pride preventing her from admitting that she does feel slightly better. But the warmth of your hand on her hip feels good, comforting and familiar, and despite herself, she relents a little.

She takes another deep breath, her head still resting heavily against your shoulder. "I feel... okay" she murmurs hesitantly.

“Good” you sigh. You are genuinely pleased that she is feeling better, you don't want her to be in pain or uncomfortable, but right now your head is pounding and you've never had to find where she keeps her painkillers before.

“Could you, maybe, get me some painkillers?” you mumble quietly.

Joanne snorts softly, shaking her head in disbelief at your request.

"Seriously?” she mutters, a note of dry amusement in her voice. Despite her illness, her sense of sarcasm and snark hadn't diminished at all.

"You're asking me for painkillers?”

"Please, Jo," You whine, scrunching up your face.

She huffs quietly, her eyes rolling at your plea.

"You're so pathetic" she mutters, her tone lacking any real heat. Despite her irritation, there's a hint of fondness in her voice, a hint that she can't deny even in her sick state.

She carefully pushes herself off you, slowly sitting up, feeling how her own head begins to pound. She groans quietly but tries to stifle it back, still not eager to show you any more weakness than she already had.

“Thank you” you whisper as she pulls away.

Joanne manages a weary huff of laughter, but it quickly morphs into a small cough, her body still weak from the remnants of the illness. Despite her efforts to hide her own discomfort, she glances over her shoulder and shoots you a dry look.

"Don't thank me" she mutters, "you look pathetic enough without me helping you”

Despite your eyes remaining closed, you roll them, the movement sending pain shooting through your head. You grumble quietly as she moves to fetch painkillers for the both of you. As much as you hate to admit that the brief separation of her body from yours makes you regret asking her to get the tablets, it does, and you find yourself leaning into the warmth of the space she just occupied.

Joanne shuffles around the kitchen, rummaging quietly through the cupboards for the painkillers. After a few seconds, she finds the small packet and takes out two tablets for herself, and two for you, before refilling two glasses with water. As she's moving around, her movements are still sluggish, her muscles still weak from her illness.

Finally, she makes it back to the living room. She takes in your slumped body, your head lolled to the side, the way you're leaning into the warm space where she was previously lying.

A sharp pang shoots through her chest as she stares at you, your body slumped against the cushions of her couch, looking oddly fragile and vulnerable. Unbidden, a wave of protectiveness washes over her, her throat suddenly feeling strangely tight, a feeling that was growing more and more familiar to her everytime she brought you home.

"Sit up” she snaps, trying to hide the softness she feels and failing miserably, “take your pills”

You let out a tired groan, but you do as she says, slowly sitting up on the couch. Your head pounds furiously, and for a second, the movement is too much, but you steady yourself, reaching out to take the painkillers from her hand.

She watches you carefully as you take the painkillers, the urge to wrap her arms around you and tell you to lie back down almost overwhelming, but she manages to quash it. She wouldn't be able to hide behind the excuse of alcohol or fever induced delirium. Instead, she sits down heavily on the couch, downing her own pills with a wince.

Almost on instinct, you lean into her side, resting your head on her shoulder with a small grunt.

“Do you think you're going to get sick sick or was it just the fever?” you murmur.

She doesn't protest as you lean into her, your head dropping heavily down onto her shoulder. Even with the fever gone, something still feels off. But she won't admit that to you, so she just huffs softly and shrugs.

"I don't know" she mutters softly, her hand coming up to briefly rest against your temple. "I feel..." she pauses, unsure how to describe it.

"Wrong” you mumble.

She lets out a soft hum, nodding in agreement. She can't help but feel that something is still wrong, that there's still something lingering, but she can't quite put her finger on it. The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she's too exhausted to say them out loud.

"Yeah" she agrees quietly, her fingers gently rubbing at your temple, tracing idle patterns against your skin.

There's a moment of silence, just the sound of your breathing and the soft hum of the air conditioning filling the silence around the two of you. Joanne's head rests against the back of the couch, her eyes closed, a small frown on her face.

She knows that she feels off, that something in her body is still not right, but she doesn't know what it is. Her body feels too heavy, too hot, everything just off by a barely noticeable margin that sets every nerve in her body on edge.

"I'm gonna stay for a few days" You eventually mumble

Joanne's eyes flutter open, a small frown on her face. Her immediate protest dies in her throat as she sees the determined look in your eyes. It's clear that you're not going to take no for an answer.

"Fine" she mutters, rolling her eyes and suppressing the wave of relief that washes over her at the thought.

"But you're sleeping on the couch" she adds, trying to sound as stern as possible despite the weakness still lingering in her body

"No I'm not”

A small scoff of disbelief leaves her throat, an indignant look crossing her face. "Yes you are" she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not sharing my bed with you.”

You lift your head from her shoulder and squint at her with barely open eyes.

"You've changed your tune. The last time I was in your bed you spooned up behind me the second you thought I was asleep”

Joanne's face flushes at your words, her heart hammering in her chest. She remembers every night she spent curled around your sleeping body, her face buried in your hair, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. She doesn't know what possessed her to cling to you like that, she just knows that your proximity, your warmth, your scent, is somehow the one thing that calms her, that eases the feeling of loneliness that has settled deep in her stomach.

But she won't admit to that, not in a million years, so she just grumbles under her breath and refuses to meet your eyes.

"Shut up" she mutters weakly "that never happened.”

You can't help but laugh softly at her denial, knowing full well how fond she is of clinging to you when she thinks you won't notice. But you sense her discomfort, the way her whole body tenses at the memory, so you almost decide to drop the subject for now. Almost. You nudge her gently with your shoulder, a small smile on your face.

"You know you're a cuddler"

Joanne just grumbles, still refusing to meet your gaze. Her face is still flushed, the heat rising to her cheeks despite the fact that her fever has mostly dissipated.

"I am not” she protests weakly, her voice betraying her with its shakiness. "I don't cuddle”

Your grin widens and you shuffle about on the sofa until you're pressed fully into her side, arm slung across her waist as you settle in for a long day of battling your hangover and Joanne’s snark.

“Such a cuddler.”

#Joanne (company)#patti lupone

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