#this was very impromptu and not at all edited

[fushitoru]

i don't wanna lose this with you a spiderman gojo fic

pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ an amalgation of misunderstandings and stress lead to a very big fight between you and satoru, but you certainly don't expect the way he wins you back.

warnings ⸺ college au, spiderman!au, angst, hurt/comfort, i warn you reader might infurate you, but she's just a woman in stem :(, tooth rotting fluff bc he's a loser for his gf, not edited sue me

playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics

a/n you'll probably need to read the first installation (nsfw, so mdni) to understand this one :3

general masterlist | spiderman!gojo m. list

you've blocked gojo on all platforms.

you don't really remember what caused the "break up" (you didn't really break up). maybe it's the fact that you've been stressed about grad school admissions, your dorm's floor was covered in his boxers, and he's never been able to visit you pre-3am these days. somehow, the city's criminals are determined to keep your boyfriend away from you, and maybe it was your pms, or maybe it was truly just because satoru is annoying. regardless, it's when you guys have plans that's not an impromptu healing-gojo's-wounds-in-your-dorm-at-3am sesh and you're waiting at the coffee shop that you explode.

because he was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago, and when you move to go to the bathroom, you see him. through the window, his white hair is never not noticeable, and who you see next to him makes you falter.

he's standing next to a girl with blue tinted silver hair that you recognize as mei mei, and she's gripping his upper arm as she smiles while looking at his face, his lips with such fuck me eyes that you could tell they were having some sort of intimate conversation.

and if it were an ideal day, you would know that it's all a misunderstanding, you would know your boyfriend is someone you trust. but, again, the cards were stacked against you, and the only things that go through your mind all make your eyes all glossy. he's late to the one date that you planned because you and him were finally free at the same time and you've been busy because you've been desperately applying for internships because unlike your boyfriend you don't have a plethora of papers and coding experience and you've been getting four hours of sleep on average this week and ugh you've heard a rumor that satoru used to hook up with her and fuck now your tampon is poking at you in the wrong way—

great. now tears are fully streaming down your cheeks. in public.

as you rush to the table where your stuff is your vision is so blurry that you also almost fall flat on your face as you stumble over the legs of chairs and tables. blurting out a ensemble of choked up sorry's and excuse me's you hurriedly gather your laptop and notebooks in your backpack and book it for the exit.

the biting cold stings at your face, but you nevertheless determinedly move in the opposite direction of where satoru and mei mei are situated, praying your boyfriend doesn't recognize you. however, it seems that the heavens are working against you because you hear a yelled "baby?"

you don't look back because you know a new set of tears will leave your eyes, and with it being finals season, you're not very hydrated to being with. but you hear footsteps running towards you and fuck your boyfriend's long ass legs because he quickly catches up to you. then, he grabs your hands, attempting to stop you from running away and face him.

"baby," he breathes, baby blue eyes looking into yours as he moves to kiss your forehead. you stay silent, pinning your gaze to the ground while shivering. "where are you going? aren't we supposed to hang out right now?"

look, you and gojo have a good relationship. but recently, things have gotten...strenuous lately. you guys haven't been communicating, and it might not help that half of your calorie intake was from energy drinks. or perhaps what lead you to say what you said next was driven entirely by the brain eating mold on your unwashed dishes, but dumb excuses aside, you sneer. "shouldn't you be busy doing that with mei mei, instead?"

a small part of you--the part that knows you shouldn't be like this--feels relief that hurt doesn't immediately flash across his eyes, only confusion. but lack of sleep has not only stripped away at your sanity but also your people pleasing and overthinking tendencies, leaving you only as a girl frustrated, even irrationally angry, with her boyfriend. so you only avert your gaze when he dumbfoundedly asks, "what?"

"what do you mean, "what?"" you scoff, wrenching your hand from his grasp. "you were ten minutes late to our meet-up, gojo." it is at your use of his last name, instead of your sweet my love, that the hurt you've been looking for flashes across his eyes. he moves to speak but you cut him off, no longer wishing to be here with him. "if you're so busy talking to bitches you hooked up with before, why did you even bother saying yes to hanging out with me?"

he looks at you in confusion, eyes quickly flitting back and forth across you. then, slowly, as if he's still processing the weight of your accusations, he says, "i don't exactly know what you're referring to, but let's calm down---"

and you see red.

"calm down?" you snap, voice sharp and icy, just like the wind stinging your cheeks. "did you seriously just tell me to calm down? you were late again, gojo, and i find you chatting it up with her?" you practically spit the word, arms crossing as a flimsy defense against both the cold and the ache building in your chest.

satoru blinks, his confusion genuine, but you’re too far gone to care. "wait—mei mei? is this about mei mei? she's not—"

"don’t you dare finish that sentence," you cut him off, your voice rising as your blood boils hotter. "i don't want to hear how she's just a friend, or how it's not what it looks like. i’m so tired of hearing the same bullshit excuses."

"baby, you're jumping to conclusions—"

"and you’re jumping at the chance to look like an idiot in public," you snap, your hands trembling now, either from the cold or your rising fury. "god, what do you even say to her? let me guess, you go around telling girls you're spider-man to get into their pants, huh? bet that works like a charm."

the accusation hits like a slap, and for the first time, satoru looks genuinely stunned, his mouth falling open slightly. "what the hell are you even saying right now?"

"am i wrong?" you let out a bitter laugh, one that echoes in the frosty air. "you’re late to the one date i actually planned, and i see you with her, all cozy, like i’m not even waiting for you. like i don’t even matter."

his eyebrows knit together, frustration mixing with something softer. "you seriously think i’d—"

"i don’t know what to think anymore, satoru!" the words burst out of you, your voice cracking as hot tears well in your eyes. "all i know is that i can’t keep feeling like this. like i’m some afterthought while you’re out doing—whatever it is you do. swinging through the city or flirting with your exes or—" you choke on the words, wiping at your cheeks furiously as the tears spill over. "just forget it. i’m done."

"wait." his voice is quieter now, more desperate as he steps toward you, his hand reaching out. "baby, come on, we can talk about this—"

"no," you say firmly, jerking your hand away before he can grab it. "i’m blocking you. on everything." then, mockingly, "you can figure out how to save the world without me."

his eyes widen, his mouth opening like he’s about to plead or argue, but you don’t wait for him to speak. you turn on your heel and storm away, the cold wind biting at your skin as the lump in your throat grows heavier.

you don’t look back. not when he calls your name, not when you hear his footsteps falter. you just keep walking.

it’s 3 a.m., and you don’t know if you exist.

well, you do, but after how light you feel after you’ve cried a disgusting amount, you just lie down on your floor staring at the ceiling and contemplating the meaning of life. or more specifically, the meaning of your life, which right now feels like it’s revolving around nothing but stress and a breakup you don’t even fully understand.

you wouldn’t be having these problems if you were a childless cat lady.

but alas, you’re just a college student. in the few days where you haven’t seen satoru, you’ve finished all your finals—miraculously, considering the fragile state of your emotional wellbeing—and now you’re finally on break in your dorm. you’re supposed to go back home in two days, but the thought of packing feels like trying to climb a mountain barefoot. you can’t summon the energy to do anything except wallow in your self-pity and selfishness, letting it wrap around you like a weighted blanket that’s somehow comforting and suffocating all at once.

you’d like to say this is rock bottom, but truthfully, it’s worse than that. because rock bottom implies a kind of finality—a place to push off from. this? this feels more like you’re sinking in quicksand, the weight of everything dragging you further down.

in your stress and impulsiveness, you’ve managed to kill your entire grind for internships. deadlines have slipped past while you spent hours doom-scrolling job boards and second-guessing every application. the ambitious, career-focused version of yourself feels like a stranger now, buried under the weight of your own doubts and insecurities. and on top of that, you may have potentially lost the love of your life.

it’s laughable, really, how thoroughly you’ve managed to self-destruct in such a short time. the worst part? you can’t even bring yourself to check your socials. if you unblock him and see there aren’t any messages, you think your heart might shatter completely. which, if you’re being honest, isn’t exactly fair to him. you’re the one who had the meltdown. you’re the one who blocked him on everything. he probably doesn’t even know what he did wrong because you didn’t even communicate anything.

your stomach twists at the thought, guilt mingling with the ever-present ache of missing him. he was supposed to be the one person who made everything feel a little less impossible, and now you’ve pushed him away.

there has got to be a taylor swift song for this.

so you make your way to your spotify account to listen to afterglow, putting in your airpods while somberly looking at the ceiling once again as the lyrics fill your ears. tears well up as soon as the lyrics start

i blew things out of proportion, now you're blue⸻

tears well up before you can stop them, hot and heavy as they trail down your cheeks. god, you’re a mess. and yet, as much as you hate it, you can’t seem to stop the flood of thoughts that follow.

you miss him. you miss the way he made you laugh even when you were on the verge of tears, the way his ridiculous confidence somehow made you feel like everything would work out. you miss how he’d stay up late just to facetime you when you were overwhelmed with schoolwork, how he always seemed to know exactly when you needed him most.

and now? now you’ve gone and ruined it. maybe he’s angry, maybe he’s hurt, or worse—maybe he’s just done with you entirely.

the thought makes your chest ache, your breaths coming in shallow and uneven as the lyrics hit their crescendo.

i need to say, hey, it’s all me, in my head—

then, suddenly the song changes. you frown as you hear early 2010's pop blast through your ears.

i threw a wish in the well, don't ask me i'll never tell⸻

why the fuck is call me maybe playing?

annoyed and rubbing at your eyes, you move the change it back to, now, the sad girl hours playlist spotify curated for your and assume your dead fish position on the floor once again.

however, it seems as if your spotify is genuinely tweaking, like it's realized it’s gotten your attention. when call me maybe starts playing again, you groan out loud and move your phone. but before you have a chance to switch the song again, it seems to switch.

baby by justin bieber.

call me, blondie.

i love you, i'm sorry, gracie abrams.

letstalkaboutit, aminé.

i don't understand but i luv you, seventeen.

please please please, sabrina carpenter.

and then, once more, as if to really drive the point home: call me maybe, carly rae jepsen.

again, it's 3am, and you're stuck in a surreal mix of grief and confusion, staring at your phone as your spotify queue seems to have gained sentience. each song feels like a pleading nudge, an unmistakable pattern forming, and your blood runs cold when you remember one very important fact.

you share a spotify account with satoru.

"carly rae jepsen," you mutter under your breath, a mix of exasperation and fondness bubbling up despite yourself. he's hijacking your queue. right in the middle of your emo songs.

you sit up abruptly, tossing your airpods onto the bed, and hover over the call button on your phone. there’s a split second of hesitation—your pride battling with your longing—before you give in and press it.

the line rings twice before his voice comes through, breathless, like he’s been pacing. "baby?"

the sound of his voice sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, sharp and raw like an open wound. the sound of his voice makes your stomach twist uncomfortably, equal parts relief and guilt. "satoru," you say, barely above a whisper. "why are you messing with our spotify?"

"why am i messing with our spotify?" he echoes, his tone incredulous. "why did you block me on literally everything? what was i supposed to do—send you a letter by carrier pigeon?"

you wince at the edge in his voice, your earlier anger wilting under the weight of his hurt. "i… i don’t know," you admit, the words tumbling out before you can catch them. "i was upset, and i wasn’t thinking straight. i shouldn’t have done that."

"yeah, you shouldn’t have," he says, still sounding a little indignant, though there’s something softer beneath it now. "do you know how many songs i had to go through to make my point? do you know how hard it was to resist the urge to rickroll you instead?" then, there’s a pause on his end, the line suddenly feeling too quiet. then he sighs, his voice softening into something that feels too much like an apology. "i didn’t know what else to do. i hate not talking to you. i hate knowing i made you upset, even if i don’t entirely understand why."

you close your eyes, the lump in your throat returning with a vengeance. the silence stretches between you, thick and unbearable, until you finally break it. "i’m sorry," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "i shouldn’t have blown up at you like that.” and now that the dam has been broken, it all comes rushing out as you start choking up. “i’ve just been so stressed, and i’ve been missing you and then i saw you with her and then got irrationally angry when i really should’ve trusted you and oh my god i’m like a possessive tradwife husband that doesn’t let you leave the farm i’m sorry and i didn’t even communicate before i blew up at you like that—”

"hey. hey, hey, it’s okay," he says immediately, his tone filled with an earnestness that makes your chest tighten. "i know things have been hard for you. i should’ve been better, too. more present. i hate that you’ve been feeling like this while i’ve been...doing spider-man things." then, he lets out a dramatic sigh, the kind that’s equal parts exasperation and playfulness. "but wasn’t fair,” and you can hear a whine in his voice, “you blocked me and then ghosted me like i’m some kind of random tinder match. do you have any idea how insane i felt when i couldn’t even check to see if you were okay? i thought you hated me."

your breath catches at his words, guilt twisting like a knife in your chest. "i don’t hate you," you say quickly, the words spilling out in a rush. "i could never hate you. i was just… stupid, and emotional, and i didn’t know how to handle everything piling up. i’m so, so sorry, satoru."

there’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, a little more vulnerable. "then why did you say those things? about mei mei, and… and me using the spider-man thing to get into girls’ pants."

you bite your lip, the memory of your harsh words making your throat tighten. "i didn’t mean any of it," you whisper. "i was just lashing out, and i know it wasn’t fair to you. i know you’d never do something like that, and i trust you, satoru. i just… i let my insecurities get the better of me."

"wait," he interrupts, his voice laced with amusement that shouldn’t make your heart ache the way it does. "you actually think i’d use the spider-man thing as a pickup line? that’s...wow. that’s genius. i should write that down."

"satoru!" you exclaim, half-laughing, half-crying, your emotions unraveling all over again. "i’m being serious!"

"i know, i know," he says, but you can hear the smile in his voice, warm and teasing. "and i’m being serious, too. i’d never do that to you. mei mei’s just...she tripped in front of me, i was just helping her up. i didn’t even realize how it must’ve looked, but i’ve never done anything with her. you’re it for me, okay? always."

you sniffle, wiping at your cheeks as your heart swells and aches all at once. "you mean that?"

"of course i do," he says, his voice soft and sincere in a way that makes your breath hitch. "i love you, even when you block me on everything and make me resort to spotify warfare." he sighs again, but this time it’s softer, the warmth in his voice breaking through his remaining irritation. "i’m not mad. i mean, i was mad, but mostly i was just upset. you really hurt my feelings, you know?"

the lump in your throat grows, your guilt threatening to choke you. "i know," you say, your voice cracking. "i’m so sorry, satoru. i’ll make it up to you, i promise."

"oh, you will make it up to me," he says, the teasing edge returning to his tone. "i want a week of boyfriend privileges—no complaining when i steal your fries, no making fun of my movie picks, and you’re buying me snacks for at least three of those days."

a small smile tugs at your lips despite the tears still clinging to your lashes. "deal," you say softly.

there’s a pause on his end, and then his voice comes through the line, quieter but no less sincere. "you really mean it? you’re not still mad at me?"

"i’m not mad," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "i was never really mad at you, satoru. i was mad at everything else, and i took it out on you. but i’m not mad anymore. i just… i miss you."

"i miss you too," he says, and the raw honesty in his voice---the subtle way it chokes up, as if he had been crying and missing you too---makes your chest ache. "so, can i come over? or are you going to make me keep hijacking your playlists to get your attention?"

you laugh softly, the sound tinged with relief. "just come over already, you dummy. and bring snacks. good ones."

"done," he says, his grin audible through the phone. "i’ll be there in twenty. and for the record, you owe me at least a whole playlist dedicated to how amazing i am and you sucking the absolute soul out of my dick---."

"don’t push your luck," you reply, but there’s no heat in your words, only warmth (and you’re absolutely going to suck his soul out of his cock). regardless, for the first time in days, the tightness in your chest starts to ease, replaced by something lighter, something whole.

general masterlist | spiderman!gojo m. list

a/n he's so cute :( i'll keep on writing stuff for them whether it be small fics like this or long ass fics. i think my next one is gonna be freaky if you guys are nice to this one

TAGLIST im really sorry if i missed you if you sent an ask asking to be tagged pls feel free to remind me again im afriad ur ask has drowned in my shitposts and other asks

@chilichopsticks @livelaughloveisagiyoichi @moonchhu @k0z3me @seobluv

@m1gota @celloccino @satxoru @fishrene @myahfig4

@watermelonmuntchers @bxnfire @ayumilk @venussdovess @michelleeveline

@bochichi @applepi25 @6xillaa @almostdifferentstudent @mugamoo

@iv-vee @jaemissso @wil10wthetree @localartisttttt @rirk-ke

@backinmyphase @novaisbebita @heiejdhdh @blueemochii @helloalex80

@gojodickbig @kyon-cherri @nikkissecretlibrary @omg-its-rdj @isleqt

@suguruscousin @idkwhatursayinh @yourfavbabigirl

[freeandiwill]

Saja Boy Love Languages

Oh lookie there just so happens to be 5 of them, how convenient.

Jinu - Quality time

This boy absolutely loves to seek you out for impromptu dates, especially more intimate and secluded ones. Long walks after dark, dinner in an empty restaurant, playing card games in bed. He wants to feel like he’s really getting to savor his time with you, absorbing your presence without any interruptions. He’s a sucker for good conversation, whether it’s the two of you just bouncing off each other with banter or having a deep conversation when you should be sleeping or him just listening to you ramble on and on while he memorizes every feature on your face. He’s utterly fascinated with all of your behaviors and soon will be able to read your demeanor like a book, knowing exactly what you need when you need. He gets antsy when he goes to long without having seeing you and will forcibly pull you away from anything if he’s desperate enough, craving another moment with just the two of you.

Abby - Acts of Service

Despite being kind of a massive douchebag, he really enjoys feeling like a true gentleman for you. First of all, absolutely any opportunity where he can show off his strength and build is a win in his book. He’ll hold your shopping bags for you, block people from bumping into you in crowds, reach things off of tall shelves. Oh, your feet are tired from standing? Well, you are being hoisted up into his arms, no questions asked. His manners game is also off the charts, even though he does it all with the most cocky smirk you’ve ever seen. He holds doors open for you, keeps you on the inside of the sidewalk, mindlessly adjusts your hair and accessories so you always look perfect. And he loves when you dote on him for doing all these little things, drinks up every thank you and cheek kiss. Sometimes you swear he’s randomly buying you your favorite snacks just to see you swoon over his chivalry and giving you his shirt when it’s not even that cold just to show off his abs to you…again.

Romance - Gift Giving/Receiving

How do we feel about ‘Roman’ as an alternative name for him?

Turns out being a massive Popstar has its financial perks and he has very few things he wants to spend his money on besides you. You might open your closet to find luxurious outfits that were totally not there before or find massive bouquets on your doorstep, all his doing. He’s very nonchalant about all of it too, only relaxedly admitting to it when you’re in the midst of having a crisis over where how this 22karat gold bracelet appeared on your wrist. As time goes on, he gets better at distinguishing your taste and making his gifts more appealing to you specifically, like a special edition of your favorite book or a pair of shoes you’ve been wanting all your life. He would literally go to hell and back if it means he could spoil you just a little more, nothing is ‘too much’ for his love. He also adores any and all gifts you give him, from a framed photo of the two of you that you printed out and decorated to literally a hair tie you let him borrow once that never leaves his pocket now.

Baby - Words of Affirmation

What can he say? He’s a lyricist at heart. Honestly, he’s going to be quite cool and apathetic most of the time, but when he gets going he really knows how to really lay it on thick. This might be sickeningly clever nicknames or passing compliments that set your heart on fire. It could also be the absolute most passionate, provocative monologue sensually whispered in your ear at this worst time possible. He loves to torture you with his knack for words. He’ll leave you Shakespearean-level love poems on sticky notes that you keep and cherish forever. And then he’ll mischievously deny ever leaving the note in the first place. He’ll randomly look up at you with glittering eyes and tell you all the ways he holds you dear, how finds you more precious than the universe itself, how he considers you to be a valuable blessing upon his life and he mourns the days before he knew you and dreads every future minute he can’t be beside you. Then he’ll very casually ask what you want for dinner. Good luck with all that whiplash. Don’t worry, even though he might not show it, you drive him just as wild with even the smallest things. You called him cute once and he plays the moment on repeat in his head. Boy is just as down bad as you are, but a lot better at hiding it.

Mystery - Physical Touch

He’s also quite good at keeping himself in check most of the time. In public, he won’t do much besides stand close to you, making sure your shoulders are brushing. He gives little frowns to anyone who tries to come as close to you, hovering over you like a guard dog. If you’re lucky and he’s feeling particularly clingy, he may hold your hand. But this absolutely pales in comparison to how he acts in private: he is feral for your touch. He wraps himself around you and nuzzles into your skin, labored breathing like you’re his only lifeline at this moment. You have to remind him to calm down. His limbs are squeezing yours, nails grazing and groping. You swear to god you hear sniffs, is he smelling you? He’ll press sloppy kisses over every inch of you, whimpering while he leaves wet patches, teeth just barely nicking your flesh. Sometimes he doesn’t realize how rough he’s being with his affection, he really just likes to feel like he’s consuming you, like you’re melting into him so you can never leave again. And if you do have to leave briefly in the middle of a cuddle session, even just for the restroom or to get a drink of water, he follows and has his hands gripping your clothes until he can tug you back to your bed or couch.

[salem-s]

hii! i absolutely loved the last fic based on back to friends and it made me think abt all the angsty rafe fics.

i was wondering if you could do a fic where rafe and reader are best friends but reader is in love with rafe but rafe openly calls her his best friend so reader moves on and rafe yearns for her?

YUP. love this. love angst. awesome.

I'VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU, JUST NOT LIKE THIS — RAFE CAMERON ONE SHOT

SYNOPSIS you’re rafe’s best friend. always have been. have you wished the two of you were more than that? only everyday since junior year of high school. but when he calls you his best friend, the mocking title you wear with a court jester hat, you come to the conclusion that that’s all you’ll ever be. so, you’ll start putting yourself first.

WARNINGS fluff, obbbvviously angst (miscommunication, two idiots not knowing how to emote properly, self sabotaging behavior), mentions of underage drinking/smoking, suggestive content but no actual smut. all that. bsf!rafe is so special to me. he’s such an idiot. not edited literally at all.

WORD COUNT 7.8k. very description heavy so sooooorrrry.

SONG OF THE CHAPTER infrunami by steve lacy

You've loved Rafe Cameron all your life.

The two of you have been attached to the hip since you were kids, play fighting and emulating Smackdown in the backyard and scratching up knees and elbows, triple-dog-daring each other to bridge jump in the middle of the night as rebellious teens, sneaking through each other's windows for impromptu sleepovers where you'd stay up until the crack of dawn talking about nothing and everything at the same time, mingling with your separate friend groups at parties but always finding your way back to each other by the end of the night.

You patched up his bloodied lips and iced his bruised knuckles. He opened doors for you and scared off any guys who came a little too close. From a young age, you knew you loved him. He was your best friend, the person who knew you like the back of his hand and still stayed despite your flaws. It never crossed the line. Ever.

But the moment you realized you were in love with him, all you could do was hyper-fixate on the fact that all you'll ever be is his best friend.

It wasn't a grand realization with confetti and sickly sweet hearts as an aura around his head.

You were seventeen, drunk at prom, and crying in the sand dunes after your date — Matthew from the lacrosse team who you'd been pining over for a year — stood you up to shack up with Natalie who you used to do Girl's Scouts with. No one noticed you slip out, as you were subtle and sneaky and frankly so fucking embarrassed that you wanted nothing more to do with the night. Everyone had been drinking or smoking too much anyway, and you sought that out as the perfect time to dip, pour your emotions out on the dunes of solitude, then mosey on home in hopes of forgetting about the whole thing.

But, of course, Rafe always kept tabs on you.

He found you not even five minutes later, knowing exactly what happened when he caught a glimpse of Matthew leading Natalie upstairs by the hand with you nowhere in sight. In an instant, he was sitting beside you a little too close (as usual) and slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you taut to his chest. And he simply let you cry, murmured sweet nothings in your ear on how that prick didn't deserve you anyway, holding you in a way he has a million times before.

But something in your heart clicked that night. Because you realized two things: that no one will ever know you the way Rafe Cameron does. And that you were in love with him.

Ever since then, all you've pinpointed is the fact that you'll only ever be his best friend.

You were his best friend throughout childhood, throughout high school, through graduation and the slobbery crying mess of a goodbye when you both left for different colleges, during semesters over the phone and even more-so when you came back for breaks, through his ups and downs of relationships with girls that weren't you, through all of it.

So when you overhear him tell someone at a party that "She's the best friend anyone could have," you pointedly decide to yourself that your heart has had enough.

You have to stop seeking his traits in other guys. You have to stop pretending that there's any kind of world that would sustain this giant, stupid, debilitating crush you have on him. You have to stop living in fantasy land and wake the fuck up, because it's not gonna happen and it never will.

You'll always love him, there's no doubt about it and there's no way you can remove him from your life (not that he'd even let you if you tried), but Project Fall-Out-Of-Love, FOOL for short, commences the moment the words leave his mouth. That night, you stay in the joint-rolling corner with your friend group, not finding solace under his arm or texting him five min break? halfway throughout the night to debrief. After all, he doesn't question it, probably thinking you're too engrossed with your friends as that happens from time to time.

But when you start relying less and less on him, Rafe spirals.

Of course, he doesn't outwardly bring it up, because the vulnerability would absolutely kill him and his dignity. But he notices small things here and there that simply don't add up: you've slowly stopped texting him when you're bored at home with nothing to do and simply go out alone instead, stopped hanging around him at parties or even sitting next to him on the couch when your and his friends get together for a chill night in, stopped throwing your legs over his lap or leaning your cheek on his arm or grabbing his hand when walking through a crowd.

The first couple of times you pull away, he finds himself making up for the absence subconsciously. When he gets himself a drink, he's automatically getting you one and bringing it to you without you having to ask just as an excuse to insert himself in the conversation at your side. When you're walking to your favorite breakfast spot to pick up your coffee, he's got a hand on the small of your back when you weave through people on the sidewalk. When you have an eyelash on your cheek, he's brushing it off with his thumb. When your necklace is off center, he's fixing it without a word. You never say anything and carry on with your day as usual.

He doesn't realize that his hands linger longer than they should when yours stop touching him.

And for the life of him, Rafe can't figure out why. He can't conjecture why you're the same... just without your hands. Instead of mussing your hands through his hair, you're telling him to fix it. Instead of fixing the collar of his shirt or adjusting the buttons of his button-down, you're giving tips on how to make it look sharper. Instead of pawing at his back for a piggy-back ride on your walk home from the bar, you're asking your friend. You're still you, laughing and poking fun at him and getting into all sorts of trouble like the two of you normally do. But he can feel a shift, a change, as you don't look at him longer than you need to and only touch him when it's necessary.

After a month of dancing around your change in demeanor, Rafe bites (more-so nibbles) at the topic.

"Feel like I haven't seen you lately," he murmurs one night, trying to keep his voice even and uninterested even though his heart is pounding.

The two of you are sitting on the couch in your apartment, on opposite ends which is unusual for you to create so much distance, watching an older movie with subtitles that he has a hard time focusing on. You, on the other hand, are intently paying attention, brows furrowed as you pluck popcorn one by one into your mouth, appearing as if nothing is wrong (and for all he knows, nothing is wrong, but you've stopped touching him for whatever reason and he's going crazy over the considerable amount of physical space you've put between you over the past month).

When you think you hear his voice, you glance his way only to be met with his stare.

"Hm?" You hum sweetly, almost startled. "You say something?"

Rafe opens and closes his mouth, darting his gaze between your eyes and hating how far away you feel.

But he's not ready to admit that, so instead he shakes his head.

"Didn't catch that last line," he says on the spot. "They're talking too fast."

Your brows raise. "Oh? Wanna put something else on, then?"

What he wants is for you to come and curl up next to him like you've done for every single movie night since the two of you were nine, to nuzzle against his side and end up falling asleep on top of him like you always end up doing by the end of the film, to feel you next to him and most likely fall asleep too, to know that he's going to wake up next to you and start his day with you.

However, Rafe doesn't say any of that.

Instead puts on his trademark smirk that stands more as armor than it does pleasantries. "Finally, thought you'd never ask."

The only time you touch him that night is when your fingers graze his when you hand him the remote, still flashing your sweet smile and rolled eyes at his prince-like behavior, something you've always poked fun at him for. The contact feels like a cruel joke, because your hand pulls away as fast as it came and suddenly he's tethered to nothing once again.

And it only gets worse.

The next week, you're late for the unplanned-planned hangout with all your friends in your living room.

Every first Friday night of each month, his friends and your friends come together to hang at someone's apartment - this night it being yours - and drink, play cards, be stupid and laugh about shit that doesn't matter. It's easily his favorite night of the month, one because he gets all of his friends in the same place but also because he gets to see you in your lax state, more often than not in your pajamas where he'll usually crash at your place or you'll crash at his. That's usually what ends up happening.

But not tonight, because you show up thirty minutes behind the unofficial meeting time looking prettier than ever.

At first, Rafe assumes you had a late presentation at work or some special affair that causes you to look so nice. But when you come closer and put your bag down and slip your shoes off, he notices a little bit of gloss on your lips and a smidge of glitter on your eyelids. Your shirt's a little more provocative than usual and you're sheepishly smiling to all of your girl friends' knowing looks across the room, widening your eyes slightly in warning as a I'll tell you later look.

It dawns on him that you were on a date.

Rafe can simply tell, and he suddenly hates that he can. He hates how he can notice your suppressed smile as if you're fighting a blissful grin. He hates how you're so dressed up and showing off your pretty to someone else, someone that isn't him, someone that probably doesn't deserve to see the real you. He hates how you seemed to tell everyone but him, and that breaks his fucking heart. Why wouldn't you tell him? Why aren't you telling him anything anymore?

When most of your friends leave and it's just you, your two roommates, and him, he bites.

"You went on a date."

It's a little silly, the timing of it all, because he feels a stupid sitting on the couch with you and your two best girl friends sipping cheap wine and gossiping about your love life. If his friends saw this set up, saw how much he cared and how he's practically in on girl talk, he'd never hear the end of it and that's a fucking promise. But Rafe can't seem to care, not in the slightest, because the question is detrimentally important that you could've put a face mask on him and that stupid headband you use, and he wouldn't say anything, only as long as you answer the question.

You quirk a brow at him, legs tucked underneath you that causes your dress to ride up a little. "Who told you?"

He ignores the looks from your roommates. "No one. Tell me."

Before you can answer, one roommate interrupts. "Tell us. How'd he pick you up?"

And to Rafe's horror, you tell everything.

You give a very detailed rundown of the entire night. How he picked you up with flowers, how he opened the car and restaurant door for you, how he paid for the meal and the drinks you got at the bar around the corner, how he wrapped his arm around your waist and asked to kiss you goodnight on the doorstep, how he asked to see you again this weekend and how you said yes.

He wants to leave. He wants to run out the fucking door and pretend he didn't hear any of it. But he can't, he's glued to the couch with an agape mouth and spiraling brain as he listens to you speak, watches how you smile, pays attention to what details you cling onto. The feeling in his chest is tight, too constricting and it's making him claustrophobic. His heart thumps erratically, threatening to burst through his ribcage the more you talk about your night.

"So? That's it?" Your one roommate Ainsley asks. "Just a kiss? Not even an ounce of fondling?"

You shrug and shake your head. "Maybe he's saving it for next time?"

"Hopefully it's a little more than fondling," your other roommate Cora muses, lips brimming the rim of her wine glass as she pointedly glances at you. "You deserve at least three orgasms. Minimum."

The image makes Rafe grimace.

Of course, you notice and laugh so fucking sweet that it does something weird to his chest. "Oh, please. You know how many times I had to hear about you fucking girls from the back in places AI couldn't even make up?"

Rafe knows he's overstaying his welcome and definitely intruding on girl talk. But he couldn't care in the slightest. The scowl is permanently etched on his face at the thought of you touching, let alone by touched, by someone else. It's selfish, he knows that much, but frankly he really doesn't want anyone to know you the way that he knows you. He knows your coffee order, your pet peeves and deepest secrets, your menstrual cycle for fuck's sake, the name of your first pet and the things you do when you're upset.

"That's different," he mumbles, downing the rest of his drink.

"It's really not," you argue playfully, eyelids slightly low with your drunken buzz. When you poke his thigh with your toe he nearly jolts, shocked at the first bit of contact you've initiated in what feels like forever. "It's just payback for all the times you made me listen to the intricate details of your hookups. So pour another glass and kick back, Rafey."

Despite the weird lurch in his gut, Rafe does what you say because it's frankly impossible to say no to you.

He doesn't even know why he's getting so worked up. Perhaps it's because you're physically pulling away from him since you're seeing other people. But he still doesn't understand: you've had boyfriends, you've told him about bad and good hookups and still never stopped touching him, never stopped doting on him and carrying on your friendship as normal. Why now? What's the difference between two months ago and now? What changed?

The thought keeps him awake. Rafe left your apartment hours ago and he still can't stop thinking about it, thinking about the strange sense of dread in his chest and how it feels like the end of the world when you talk about the possibility of being with someone else. He's lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, blinking the minutes away until the sun rises.

And when it hits him? It's all he can think about.

Because Rafe has loved you all his life.

He's cared about you more than he has anyone else, because you're the only person who was never afraid of him, who saw him through his brutal insecurities and helped him become a better version of himself. You held him when things got too loud and calmed him down when his mind was running amuck. You bandaged his cuts and bruises but not without a good scolding. You had no mercy tackling him in beach football every weekend in the summer. You told him when he was acting stupid and made sure he fixed up his act. He values you more than anything else.

But the moment he realizes he's in love with you, Rafe doesn't know how to act.

All it took for him to realize was your physical absence. Because perhaps he's been in love with you all this time, but could never distinguish it from that best friend admiration he's had for you his entire life. He gushes about you to others, how you're the best friend anyone could have, how smart and funny you are and how you always keep him on his toes and keep him in check.

Now, it’s all he can think about.

How your eyes light up when you laugh, how the sound of it immediately brightens a room, how you put everything to the side to help someone, how you know the way all of your friends like their eggs without even having to ask, how you can be the sweetest and funniest in the same breath, how you go through life making the flowers bloom at your feet with every step.

But there’s another added factor. More so a disadvantage. Because now his eyes linger in places they shouldn’t. When the loose collar of your shirt dips down over your shoulder, his breath hitches at the sight of your bare collar bone. When you wear dresses in the summer breeze, he can’t help but stare at your legs, and he has to force himself to look away when the hem rides up to further expose your thigh. When you speak to him, he fixates on the way your lips move, and he finds himself wondering how sweet you’d taste. He wants to worship you, kiss the ground you walk on, let his hands appreciate every dip and crevice of your body in the way he knows you deserve.

It haunts him. Plagues him. Rafe can barely sleep at the realization, at how disgusted he is with himself. You’re his best friend, for fuck’s sake, the girl who has been with him through it all. You’re someone he cannot lose, because if he did, he doesn’t know what he’d do.

“Rafe? Did you hear what I said?”

Your sweet voice startles him, knocking away his grueling thoughts with a simple sentence.

You’re cooking lunch with added ingredients to accommodate his spontaneous arrival. Sleep deprived, Rafe finds it difficult to be alone with the confinements of his mind, especially now, so he went for a walk to take advantage of the nice day. However, in the hopes of clearing his mind, his feet decided otherwise, and subconsciously walked himself to your apartment. You, being so kind, offered to make him a meal, saying that you were making one anyway, what’s one more?

So now he’s sitting at your kitchen island, twirling the family siglet ring on his finger in an attempt to calm him down, watching your back as you stand over the stove. But it’s proving less of a relaxing afternoon when all he can stare at is the planes of your shoulders exposed in a tank top. Every time you laugh, it makes his chest constrict. When you turn to meet his eye briefly to make a point, he finds himself automatically smiling regardless if you're berating him or not. He has to fight the urge to stand and hold you.

"Hm?" He hums distractedly, almost sheepish that he got caught in a daze. "What'd you say, pretty?"

Whether you hear the nickname, you don't comment on it, nor do you turn around. "I asked if you could save me some of Sarah's cookies when you go over tonight."

Rafe frowns. "Wait, you're not coming?"

You make a noise that resembles a snort and a laugh. "Do you ever listen to anything I tell you?"

A response rises and dies in his throat, because, yes, normally he does, he always tries to hang onto every word out of your mouth. But sue a guy if he was too busy admiring your pretty for a moment.

"Uh, that seems like a trap," he muses, trying to appear playful but frankly you're avoiding his question. "Not trying to be on your bad side."

"Smart."

"Never answered my question."

You shake your head to yourself as you add ingredients to the pan. "I have another date tonight with that guy. Nosy."

Rafe's heart drops. "You— I— What?"

The stuttering must amuse you, because you half turn around to sneak a peek at him, taking in his furrowed brows and parted lips as he stares at you with those bright blue eyes, looking confused and almost panicked. It's as if you told him two plus two is five. And even though you just said something to flip is world upside down, he can't deny how fucking pretty you look right now: face bare with the scent of your freshly washed hair filling the kitchen with a citrus aroma, clad in a tank top and boxer shorts that he's pretty sure are his.

The sight of it makes him go crazy.

"You know," you say pointedly, shrugging nonchalantly as if his gut isn't sinking to the earth's core. "The guy I was telling you and the girls about the other night?"

He blinks stupidly. "Wh— Yeah, I know. But you’re… He’s… Another one?”

“Are you okay?”

No, he thinks immediately. How could he be?

“Yeah,” he drawls out unconvincingly. “Why’re you seeing him again?”

You fully turn to face him, leaning against the oven handle, eyes searching his for an answer to his strange behavior. “I like him. Why does it matter?”

How long do you have? Rafe snorts to himself.

But all he can do is shrug, trying to dance around the obvious answer. “Because this guy could be a creep. You don’t know him.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, Rafe. That’s literally the point in dating someone. You get to know them.”

“I don’t like that.”

“You don’t have to?”

Rafe stares at you for a moment, blue eyes almost glossed with worry, desperate to say anything to get you to not go, regardless of how pathetic it makes him look. And you simply stare back accusatorially, quirking a quizzical brow and waiting for his response, curious to see what kind of excuse he’s going to come up with to get you to not go.

Where this sudden apprehension is coming from, you have no idea. He’s never been this invested in your love life, never been this forward on getting you to not date around. It’s comical, almost, to have him practically begging, but you can’t find the gall to laugh. Not when you’ve been craving this sort of attention for years, not when you’ve been wishing it was him all along for as long as you can remember, not when he’s looking at you right now as if his life will fall apart if you go.

The sizzling of the food on the pan interrupts your staring contest, and with a dejected sigh, you spin back around to tend to your meal.

“He’s not a creep, if it makes you feel better. He’s one of Ainsley’s coworkers.”

Rafe sucks in a breath. “So?”

You add more ingredients to the pan. “So,” you drawl out, “she can vouch for him. And I trust that.”

When you don’t hear an immediate response, you assume he’s seceded and dropped the topic. The sizzling of the pan fills the gap of silence, and you internally praise that your hands are busy so you can’t examine the way they’re shaking subtly at the practical confrontation.

Why now? Why does he give a shit now? When you’ve just started to get over him? It’s not fair, how he constantly pulls you back in just when you think you’re in the clear, out of the abyss that is your infatuation, until he’s saying something sweet or hugging you close enough to get your heart pounding all the same again. It’s a curse, loving him is the tide, pushing and pulling and pushing and pulling. All day. Every day. All the time.

“Don’t go.” You hear from behind you. “Please.”

You frown even though he can’t see your face, blinking stupidly at the pan as you decipher his words, hear the emotion in his plea, picture the look on his features. You don’t turn around. You can’t. You can’t have him pull you in again just to date someone else the next week. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. He has to know that, right?

“Rafe—“ You start quietly.

But the door swinging open interrupts you, both you and Rafe whipping your heads to find the culprit.

It’s Cora, one of your roommates, slugging two full bags of groceries and slapping them down onto the counter with a loud sigh, unknowing of the thick tension brewing in this kitchen right now. Rafe's eyes are solely trained on you, on the words that linger in the air and itching to know what you were about to say. You meet his gaze for one, two seconds before pulling away, looking back to your roommate slipping her shoes off.

“Smells good!” She chirps innocently, unloading her bags. “Whatcha cookin’?”

Despite his protests, you go on the date.

The night is fun, don't get yourself twisted, because Nate — who's all bright smiles and light laughter and honestly a nice breath of fresh air — takes you to a nice outdoor pavilion with food, drinks, miscellaneous activities such as mini golf and wine tastings and shopping for clothes that are way out of your pay grade. You hold his hand when you walk around the area and laugh when you're supposed to, drink the beverages he buys you and say your pleases and thank yous.

But you can't help the nagging feeling in your heart.

And you hate yourself for it, because Nate's great. He's charming, funny, easy-going, and someone you can definitely see yourself being with or being friends with. However, the entire time, all you can think about is your exchange with Rafe in your kitchen, how wrecked he looked when you told him about the date, the desperation in his eyes when you told you not to go, the way his fingers twitched in your direction as if he was itching to hold you.

It's delusional. You know. You know because you've been feeding them to yourself for years.

Your lips are still tingling from when Nate kissed you goodnight, trudging up to your apartment with a heavy heart and a befuddled brain.

Your mind spins. You want to like Nate. You want to dive off the deep end and forget all about Rafe Cameron, forget about how many years you've wasted pining over him knowing it was never going to be mutual. You want to look into Nate's eyes and not wish they were Rafe's. You want to be with someone without constantly comparing them to your best friend, which is something you've found yourself doing subconsciously. It's a plague eating away at your heart, chipping pieces away one by one until you're left with nothing.

It only proves more difficult when you turn the corner only to discover the one person you don't want to see.

He's leaning against your door frame, picking incessantly at his nail beds which is a habit you've tried time and time again to help him stop. A graphic t-shirt snugs his torso, the arms shaping the outline of his biceps as sweatpants hang low on his hips, as if he rolled out of bed to come and wait by your door. As to how he got in the building, you have no idea, but you wouldn't put it past him to have somehow found a mischievous way.

The click of your heels alert him, and Rafe snaps his head up.

You try to ignore his wide eyes and how he almost looks relieved that you're alone, eyes scanning quickly over your pretty dress before darting up to meet your gaze.

"Hey," he says gently, "how as it?"

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out as you stand there puzzled. A million questions rise and die in your throat, mind reeling at the concept of him sitting here and waiting for you. He was supposed to see his sister tonight, another friend of yours, yet instead he's leaning on your door for support as he looks at you in a way that makes your heart thrum.

"Good,” you respond meekly, still desperately confused of his presence. "I thought you were sleeping at Sarah’s?”

He shrugs, but offers no words.

You catch a glimpse of his nails beds, red and irritated as you can put two and two together and guess that he’s been picking them all night. His hair is tousled, as if he’s been tossing and turning and fighting sleep and didn’t bother looking in the mirror before he ventured here. Sunken from exhaustion, his blue eyes simply stare at you with a softness you’ve only seen from him a few times, usually when he’s trying to butter you up with an apology, or when he’s deep in thought, or when something’s really bothering him and he’s internally building up the courage to say something.

You bite. “What are you doing here?”

“I just…” He starts quickly, but trails off with uncertainty, as if his mind is trying to catch up to his words. “Do you like him?”

“Wh— Nate?”

“Sure,” Rafe says immediately. “If that’s his name. Are you into him?”

You furrow your brows, taking a step closer to really see the desperation behind his expression. Your confusion morphs into compassion.

“Rafe, are you okay—“

“Will you just—“ He sucks in a particularly harsh breath and squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s composing himself to refrain from crashing out. “Please. Answer me.”

It takes everything in your power to prevent yourself from reaching forward to grab him, to rub a palm up and down his bicep or squeeze his hand to give a gentle reminder that it’s just you, that he has no reason to be panicking right now and committing acts of high treason against his nail beds. You fight the urge to brush his hair back out of his face and smooth down the wrinkles by the collar of his shirt.

But you don’t. You can’t touch him, as an ode to your dignity, and keep yourself at a respectable yet comforting distance. It’s not much, but to you, it’s progress of attempting to move on.

“I don’t know,” you mumble confusedly. “I…guess? I think so. He’s nice.”

Rafe furrows his brows through your spluttering. “You guess, or you think so?”

You groan, digging your key out of your purse and pushing forward towards your door. “I don’t know, I’ve met him twice. What’s with the interrogation?”

“I’m…curious,” he mumbles unconvincingly.

Moving to accommodate you unlocking your door, he shifts his weight between feet, and it’s daunting when you can feel his piercing eyes on your profile. You swear you hallucinate when you catch a glimpse of his hands twitching in your direction in your peripheral, as if he’s itching to grab you.

Delusional, you spat to yourself. Stand up.

“Are you gonna see him again?”

The door creaks open, and the sound of it mixes with your scoff of disbelief as you yank your key out of the lock with a particularly harsh tug. It’s no surprise that when you enter your apartment, he’s hot on your tail.

You slip your heels off. “Maybe?”

“Maybe?”

“He asked me to drinks this week.”

“What did you say?”

Stopping abruptly, you spin on your heel in the middle of your apartment to stare at him incredulously, even going as far as jutting your hip out for emphasis of your irritation.

“What has gotten into you?” You ask quietly, but he hears you all the same.

You cannot deny how fucking wrecked he looks, especially under the bright kitchen lights. It’s only now that you can fully grasp the desperation of his expression, how he looks at nothing but you, focuses on nothing but you standing in front of him. Slowly, but surely, Rafe begins shaking his head, body moving before he can even get the words out.

“Don’t go out with him,” he practically begs.

The breath momentarily leaves your lungs. “Why not?”

Rafe’s mouth opens and closes, gears turning in his head on figuring out what to say. But the words don’t come, instead he shakes his head, almost at himself, and scoffs as if the notion of you asking why is absolutely audacious, as if the answer is obvious.

But it’s not. Not at all. He’s throwing you for a loop. A long, windy, emotional strung out loop that never seems to end with him. You used to pride yourself on being able to read his mind, to be able to decipher his emotions as if you were reading a children’s book, but now, as he stands in front of you seemingly dripping in frustration, you can’t help but feel lost.

“You can’t just do that,” you say tiredly. “You can’t show up at my door in the middle of the night and ask me not to see someone without providing an explanation—“

“Because I’m in love with you,” Rafe interrupts gently, “and the thought of you being with someone else is fucking killing me.”

You falter.

Did you...hear him right? You couldn’t have, because how could the words you’ve been yearning to hear for years came and went as quickly as the tide? Spoken in one soft breath with a cadence of honey, of honesty, of desperation. He says it so surely, as if it’s law, as if nothing else in the world matters besides this, besides his feeling, besides this pull that he has towards you.

Rafe almost looks as shocked as you that he blurted it out. Well, you can’t imagine your expression, probably a humiliating mix of disbelief, shock, uncertainty, but it’s safe to say his brows are raised in surprise only for a moment, before settling on a softer gaze as he tries to read your reaction, takes in your befuddlement.

You suck in a harsh breath when he takes a step closer.

“I couldn’t figure it out,” he murmurs, eyes trained on you. “I thought I did something wrong when you stopped touching me, or sitting with me, and you were...you were still there but not where I was used to having you."

All you can do is stand frozen, watching him inch closer and closer.

Rafe sighs quietly. "But after you came home from the first date, I couldn’t shake this weird feeling. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't even fucking eat without feeling sick. It almost felt like I was losing you, like I’d fucking die if I couldn’t have you.”

Another step.

“Then it hit me. I—I tried to push it down because you’re my best friend and I couldn’t have you thinking I was just…lusting after you, because it’s not…"

He trails off, shaking his head lightly almost at himself and darting his gaze away momentarily, as if he's gathering his thoughts, calculating his response. And you don't dare make a sound, move a muscle, even hint towards doing anything that will drift his focus and make him lose what he's trying to say. It's agonizing, really, standing as still as a statue and holding your breath as if the world itself will fall apart if you do so.

The words he speaks almost make your knees buckle.

"A part of me has always loved you, just not like this, like—“ He takes a deep breath. “Like how I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I know you.”

Rafe stands inches away.

He takes in all your pretty, admiring you for a moment before settling for another long breath, figuring out his words with a newfound patience he’s never been prided for. And you almost laugh at the irony of it, of how his entire life he's been branded as the hot-headed basket case, the guy whose temper could implode at any moment, someone who was prompt and to the point and never saw the ideal in dancing around the subject. Now, it's entirely different, as he's apparently the epitome of I've got the time today.

“It’s selfish, I know,” he whispers softer than you’ve ever heard him. “But it’s true.”

When his palm experimentally hovers over your cheek, you don’t pull away, and rather stand frozen in your spot as all you can do is blink stupidly at him, digesting his words, digesting the moment. Then, gingerly, he allows his hand to cradle your jaw, holding you so delicately in place as if you’d break if he pressed any harder.

Sure, he's touched you before and more intimately like this. But now it holds a different meaning, the implication you've been wanting it to mean for so long. He's always held you in a way that almost grounds himself, though in this moment, as he skims the pad of his thumb just below your bottom lip, it's almost as if he's doing it to ground you.

“Breathe,” Rafe says gently.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

The weight of the moment, of his confession, starts to sink in as you blink at him. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. You can't move, stuck in place as your mind runs awry as years and years of silently pining over him, once thought to be a fruitless attempt, now comes to laugh in your face. It's almost comical, almost, because there was a point in time where you never thought he'd ever feel the same, never thought he'd see you as something more than the girl he skinned knees with play-wrestling in the backyard, covered in dirt and grass stains and sweat.

"Tell me you don't want this," he adds after a minute of you finding the ability to breathe again, "and I'll walk away. I won't ever bring it up again."

You swallow thickly. "I— You— How come—?"

Stifling a soft smile, Rafe's fingers skim your hairline, eyes following his movements before darting back down to meet your gaze. "Easy. Take a second. It's just me."

One, two beats.

Finally, you find your (relative) footing. "You love me?"

"I'm in love with you," he corrects immediately.

"You—" You suck in a harsh breath. "Okay. Alright."

It's no secret you're short circuiting, brain blowing fuses left and right still trying to comprehend everything that's going on. But it's proving difficult with his hand caressing your jaw, the intrusion of his cologne, how fucking good he looks like this, soft and unguarded and letting nothing distract him from you, you, you.

"Are you okay?" He asks, half concerned half amused.

You nearly laugh out of disbelief. "Am I—" You scoff. "Am I okay," you mimic mockingly, adding a self deprecating laugh. "Seventeen year old me is freaking out right now."

Rafe immediately frowns, and you instantly regret saying that.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"What?"

You blink stupidly, adding a nervous chuckle to attempt to steer the conversation. "Uh, what?"

His brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean?"

Rafe says your name firmly, low and baritone as if in warning.

A flicker of panic makes your heart thump wildly, taking in his confused expression mixed with his bubbling impatience. His palm presses a tad harder into your jaw, a gentle emphasis to keep talking, to answer his question, because if there's one thing Rafe Cameron hates, it's being left in the dust, being unanswered.

But you can't respond, not when you're cursing yourself in your head, calling yourself stupid, stupid, stupid in every single language with all synonyms you can think of. Really? Are you kidding? That's what you say? That was something you agreed to yourself that you'd never tell him, never tell anyone and have them see the light of day, and with the way he's staring at you right now, you wish you could shrink in place and bury yourself in a hole. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Seventeen?" He adds incredulously, tone dripping in desperation. "Did you—? Since we were—?"

"Yes," you answer meekly, and your cheek feels hot under his touch, instantly heating up at the notion of exposing yourself.

Rafe looks absolutely wrecked as he shakes his head at you. "Why didn't you— You never said anything. Why didn't you say anything?"

For a multitude of reasons, you think immediately. He had a girlfriend, you were seeing someone, you both left for different colleges, and a plethora more. It never felt right, there was never a point in time where you thought, wow, I'm actually going to tell him. Because it was a secret you tried to bury so deep, push and push away with the fear of fucking everything up. You never banked on the possibility of him telling you first.

You attempt to respond. "I couldn't lose you."

Rafe curses as if he's been stabbed in the heart. "Baby..."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you refuse to see his look of compassion, because honestly you won't be able to discern it from pity. Besides, the foreign pet name does absolute wonders to the kettlebell in your gut, as in making your heart feel ten tons heavier than it feels in this given moment. You've heard him call other girls the good stuff, the babe, sweetheart, honey once, but knowing you're on the reciprocating end makes your chest feel funny.

"Don't—" You start, but take a deep breath to regulate your emotions. "It's fine. It is. Honest."

"It's not." His response is immediate. "Look at me."

With a shroud of bravery, you slowly blink your eyes open.

And Rafe's looking at you so intently, so ardently, that it nearly makes your knees buckle.

"Listen to me," he says quietly yet firmer than ever. "There's no one on this planet that I'd rather be loved by than you."

You frown, but more-so in a way to regulate your quivering lip.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to catch up," Rafe murmurs, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip that tingles with anticipation. "I know it's not much, but I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere." He pauses, brows furrowing for a split second. "That is, if you want."

Despite your trembling lip, despite your erratic heartbeat, despite the way you're nearly a puddle of a mess in his hold right now, despite it all, you manage a soft, ragged chuckle.

"Rafe Cameron," you playfully scold despite the waver in your voice. "You always have the worst timing."

His palm presses further into the curve of your jaw, reciprocating your laugh and smiling so fucking soft that it makes your heart melt. The dimples you know and love are on full display, pearly whites shining bright and you can't help but wonder what he tastes like.

"Sorry, baby," he murmurs in response, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "Let me make it up to you, yeah?"

You're not sure who leans in first. Maybe it's you, pent up from years silently pining over a guy you never thought you could have. Maybe it's him, feeling a new rush of emotions and eager to act on them as soon as he possibly can. But, regardless, you meet in the middle and kiss him like your life depends on it.

Rafe's hands are suddenly everywhere: your jaw, your neck, your back to pull your body taut to his, your waist, looooooow on your hips with the pads of his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your ass. The noise he makes when he kisses you back, fervently than ever, makes your heart flutter, and you can easily confirm he tastes better than you imagined, his hands feel sensational venturing into uncharted territory.

Your hands hesitantly place firmly on his chest, slowly sliding up his torso the more you test out the waters. They soon seek refuge on his shoulders, skimming your palms over the hills and ridges of his muscles almost in admiration, before sliding up to clasp around the back of his neck.

When you gently tug the ends of his overgrown hair, Rafe groans into your mouth.

"Fuck," he says absolutely wrecked, chest practically heaving as he rests his forehead against yours. "I can't— I wanna do this right, but you're—"

"I'm what?" You challenge breathlessly, realizing you sound equally as fucked out.

He groans. "You're killing me. I need to— Fuck— I can't just— and you—“

When your hands slide down the slope of his torso slowly, his breath hitches, and his eyes follow the way your fingertips ghost the waistband of his sweatpants. You glide them over the fabric as if you're admiring the topography of a map, and when your nails lightly graze the sliver of skin exposed between the waistband and his t-shirt, Rafe nearly flinches.

"You can't—" He tries to hold his ground as his grip tightens on your hips.

But he lets out a shaky breath when you dip your fingers under the waistband.

"I can't, what?" You ask innocently. "Wanna make you feel good."

Suddenly, his nimble fingers encase around your wrist and yank your hand out of his pants, much to your dismay, and hold them in place when you try to dive back in.

But you can't be mad. Not in the slightest. Especially at his next words.

"You first," Rafe nearly orders, tone firm as his palms lay refuge on your hips and push you to move backwards, down the hall towards your bedroom. "I don't feel good unless you do."

And as he guides you into the bedroom, lies you down gently on your back and kisses up and down your body as if he's admiring a timeless piece of art, you can't configure any sort of argument, any kind of retaliation that would get him to stop what he's doing. There isn't a muscle, inch of skin, crevice on your body that goes unnoticed, as his hands and lips make you feel appreciated, worshipped, loved before he even considers thinking about himself. It's intoxicating, and the years spent wondering what kind of lover he really is is disproved yet confirmed all the same in the matter of minutes. Safe to say Project FOOL was a bust.

Rafe shows you how he's infatuated with you, for hours at best, making the softest love he knows how within the four walls of your bedroom, entangled within cotton sheets with whispers of sweet nothings ghosting the shell of your ear.

And you figure you can get used to this.

© salem-s please do not copy or replicate work unless given permission.

notes not enttttttiiiiirely proud of this but i hope this is what you envisioned for the prompt anon. hope you enjoyed!

[foolinafable]

squeeze you in

SYNOPSIS: Viktor barely has the time, but he makes it for you PAIRING: Viktor x reader WORDCOUNT: 5.2K TAGS: S1 Arcane, set around Act 1 and before Act 2, 5 year age gap, assuming arcane uses weekdays and seasons. Fem pronouns towards the end NOTES: spent all weekend writing this, hope you all enjoy. try not to mind any editing errors

This was decidedly a bad idea. Wandering the halls of the academy at night wasn’t dangerous, even with the recent attack from the undercity, that's if you could even really call it an attack. To you, it seems to be children getting involved in things they shouldn’t. You could remember them now, the swirls of brown, red and blue running along the roofs of Piltover after the explosion in the apartments of the academy. While many around you felt fear, all you saw were children. Sure, they looked only a few years your junior, but even Heimerdinger tells you that you are only on the cusp of adulthood, still shadowed by childish tendencies. You suppose that he is correct; twenty is only one year off nineteen, and that age is considered a teenager despite its adult allowances. 

You take a deep breath as your hand curls around the handle to Heimerdinger's office, unsure as to why you feel so nervous. It’s not as if you're stealing anything but rather retrieving it. You had foolishly left behind your notebook during your meeting with him when it had been interrupted by the council having an impromptu meeting, something you are sure had something to do with Talis. You needed it for a meeting the next morning with another professor about your dissertation, your last piece of work as a student at the academy, and you couldn't go to the meeting without it. Least you look unprepared, surely your job offer as a researcher for the academy could be rescinded if you didn’t appear completely committed.

So, despite your better judgement, your anxiety outweighed it as usual as you slowly opened the door to the dean, your mentor's room. You crept inside, even though nobody was around, afraid even the slightest noise could get you caught snooping after hours. Quickly, you found your notebook on the chair. You had left it opposite Heimerdinger's desk; he preferred it when you told him of your research and studies without the aid of your writings, so you had placed it next to your body on the chair. You picked it up, signing in relief that this was as easy as you hoped, when another notebook caught your attention, one that certainly wasn't on the desk when you left. Curiousity about getting the better of you as you reach for it, opening it to the first page, eyes widening at the text ‘If found, please return to Jayce Talis'. Your mind quickly remembered an interaction you had overheard in this very office earlier that day.

You were walking the path towards Heimerdinger's office, only this time it was daytime, the sun was out despite the slight winter chill warming anyone in its path. You slowed as you got towards your mentor's office, frowning at the sound of voices coming from inside. Did you get the time wrong? You wondered, looking down at your watch, showing that you were, in fact, on time. Your hands are sweaty now, anxiety crawling at the idea of interrupting, deciding to stay outside for a few moments to calm down.

“Why can’t I read it?” An exacerbated voice rang out, his accent making your face feel hot

“That Talis’ work was dangerous; the explosions in the city were proof of that; you don’t need to be involved, Viktor”, Heimerdinger's voice rang out, proud as always

“I hardly see how simply reading what he was working on is such a bad thing. I thought the greatest scientific ventures were the ones that bent the rules of the institution.” The man Viktor, you assume, tries to manoeuvre the conversation to his favour, but Heimerdinger is seemingly having none of it. Moving closer to where you are by the door as if to get the boy out of his office, you quickly knock on the door, worried that he would open the door and see you eavesdropping. Both voices stop at the sound of the knock, and Heimerdinger quickly opens the door. You awkwardly smile at the dean, eyes rising to meet the amber ones of the other body occupying the room.

“Can I come back later?” You twiddle your fingers, nervousness wracking your body at interrupting whatever this is

“No, no, come in”, Heimerdinger exclaims, pulling you by the hand into his office, yelping at the sudden contact as he continues to speak. “We were done here anyways”, his eyes solely on Viktor, who seemed to have mellowed out your presence, quickly giving his goodbyes before leaving the room, closing it behind him.

So this was what the man was interested in, what he was forbidden from reading. You tap your fingers on the book cover before quickly placing your notebook on top of it, drawing your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth as you quickly depart from the office, might as well make all your worries worthwhile. 

—

It wasn’t until later the next day you saw the man you were looking for; it was early afternoon, and you were packing up after having lunch when a head of unruly brown hair caught your eye, sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, coffee in one hand sandwich in the other. Grabbing Jayces book, which you had procured the night before, you quickly made your way towards the man before you lost your cool. Unceremoniously dropping the book in front of the man whose eyes darted from you to the book, mouth opening and closing in clear shock. 

“I hope whatever is in there is worth it,” you muttered, adjusting your bag on your shoulder before turning to leave.

“I-how?” Viktor called out, but you only replied with a cheeky smile, finger covering your mouth in secrecy as you walked away, thinking that to be the only interaction you would have with your mentor's other protege when his voice called out to you, not so far behind

“Wait” 

You stood stock still as he approached quicker than you would’ve thought given his cane, but you suppose it was a silly thought that an ailment could stop a man on a mission. Once he catches up with you, he continues to walk, so you join him, slightly confused as to what he may now want.

“Have you read it?” he asks. 

“It would be a lie to say I don't know of its content,” you replied, noticing his smile at your remark, eyes sparkling with wonder.

“What did you think?”

“I think...” You trail off, trying to come up with the right words as you both round a corner. “What he wants to do is revolutionary...” Your words scamper off slightly as you notice his eyes on the side of your face.

“But” he reads your mind.

“But”, you echo “I am unsure if he completely knows what he is doing or how he plans to do it”, trying to be as vague as possible due to the students scattered all around “I wrote some notes”, you gesture to the book “Things I thought could be helpful, I assume that's why you wanted it, to learn” 

“And how did you get it?” he wonders aloud. “Last time I checked, Heimerdinger wasn't giving out illegal independent research to anyone”, he said with a smile on his face.

“Let's just say it certainly wasn't by asking nicely,” you tease, matching his grin with one of your own “Well, you should probably go read and hide that before Heimerdinger sends out a search party for it.”

“I probably should” Viktor smiles as he turns back the way the two of you came, the book held tightly in his unoccupied hand. 

Continuing to walk the way you had been, you couldn’t help but feel relief at the fact that the book was now out of hands and the man, Viktor, seemed just as keen to keep this a secret as you did, even if you did spend all night essentially peer reviewing Jayce Talis’ work, unfortunately, your need to stay out of trouble with your superiors greatly outweighed your want to indulge in what he and assumedly Viktor was planning, you could only hope that your words you had spent all night working on where a help instead of a hindrance. You especially wanted to know how Viktor would take the words you wrote specifically for him at the front of the book: 

‘The greatest scientific ventures are the ones that bend the rules of the institution’   

—     

One of the benefits of being the dean's newest protege was that the academy gave you your lab, a small space just for you, it even had your name on a metal plaque on the door, probably due to the academy's narcissism, thinking that they would keep you even after your graduation, not that they were wrong. A fact that slightly irritated you. 

You didn’t usually get many visitors, just Heimerdinger, to see what you were working on, but those meetings were usually scheduled so he could ensure you were tallying in your lab and not at one of your usual haunts like the library. So you couldn’t help but jump at the sound of a knock on your door, eyebrows furrowed as you called out to whoever stood outside your door.

“Come in!” 

Your confusion lingered as Viktor walked in. It had only been a few days since you’d given him Jayce’s book, and from what you had heard, the two were now employed to continue Jayce’s studies non-illegally this time, being funded by Councilwoman Medarda, which they have named ‘Hextech’

“You’re not an easy woman to get ahold of”, Viktor claims as he takes a seat at your desk “I have been stopping by your room for a few days, but you were never in”, he continues, eyes piercing as he takes in the view of you, stood by another desk filled with colanders and Bunsen burners

“You sound like Heimerdinger when you say that” You smiled slightly in truth, scoffing at the face he made, clearly not appreciative of your parallel “What?” you laugh “he has said similar things on various occasions”

“I understand why,” he remarked.

“I spend a lot of time in the library, researching. Especially at the moment with final deadlines coming in, as I’m sure you remember,” he hummed at your explanation “And it’s not as if I’m a professor with allocated office hours, I don't need to be here,” you tell him passively looking back at your work at the table, deciding to turn off the flame not going to get any worthwhile work done until he's gone.

“So what can I do for you?” you asked when the man still sat in silence, seemingly comfortable to just watch you work he blinked, taken away from wherever he went upon registering your words.

“Oh well, I just wanted to thank you, Jayce, as well, for getting his book and your notes, they were more than helpful with working through the kinks in his theory- instrumental really to the breakthrough”, he admitted somewhat bashfully, stumbling over his words a little not that you noticed nervousness crawling up your spine at his approval of your words.

“Oh, um, you're welcome. I mean, a fresh pair of eyes is always helpful..” you murmur, unsure of yourself now as he stares at you, not daring to make eye contact, knowing it will only make your nerves worse.

“We were wondering, Jayce and I, if you would read some of our other research in the future, help us out. We would give out any references in the future for any work you do after study” he speaks delicately, soft and slow and if worried, he would scare you off like a child being caught doing something they shouldn’t. Your heart seems to slow from its anxious thumping as you contemplate his offer.

“I don't see why not”, you ponder absentmindedly, but your mind is already made up.

“Really?” he asked, though he didn’t sound shocked, more like he was trying to egg more words out of you.

“If you can find me, that is” You smile, the nerves falling away from you as he laughs a little 

“I’ll go tell Jayce the good news; he's going to be over the moon. You didn’t hear it from me, but he has always wanted to work with you. He said something about loving your approach in an article about the arcane:” You looked at the man again, but he simply walked out of the room, not sparing you another word. You had honestly forgotten that your last article had been published, and the fact that academics that you knew had read it and enjoyed it made a smile appear on your face, maybe this was going to be better than you had thought. 

—

A routine had been established this past few months, as winter made way for spring, you had found yourself in a comfortable pattern with the boys.

Once a week, on a Wednesday, you would spend the entire day in your lab working, and at some point, Jayce or Viktor would drop by with some work for you to look through and maybe a comment or two on things you had written the week before. These meetings were usually brief as they quickly needed to get back to work, so you would spend hours going through papers, tweaking diagrams, and sometimes even trekking to the library for a book that might help them. It wouldn’t be until the sun had made way for the moon in the sky that you would be done, taking the work down several corridors and stairs to get to their workspace, where they would still be working to drop them off. The two would then call it time for a break, so the three of you would scamper your way to the cafeteria for a change of scenery while you all ate the food you packed for lunch but had yet to get to.  

Today, however, Viktor seemed hellbent on breaking the schedule the three of you had unknowingly created. He had appeared at your lab, maybe a little earlier than he or Jayce usually decided to grace you with their presences, but it was of no matter to you, honestly, the earlier, the better, as it meant you may finish earlier than the hour of the wolf. He did bring a stack of papers with him, but instead of dropping them at your desk, sharing a few complimentary words, and then leaving, he dropped the work at your desk and then sat himself in the new chair he and Jayce had procured that was placed on the other side of your desk so they would have somewhere to sit, not that either of them had used it up until now. 

“You alright?” you ask, grabbing the top paper from the pile, you could immediately tell this was Jayce’s as the handwriting is much neater and the use of a very inky pen you quickly grabbed your pink pen and started to read the words on the page only to look up and give the man a sarcastic glower at his lack of words to which he simply smiled, not even the slightest bit disheartened by your look. 

“Jayce is off for the day, something to do with his sponsorship with the Kirammans. Told me to take the day off” he shuffled in the chair, attempting to get comfy as his hand grabbed at your notebook, deciding that he would read through some of your work for once

“And you have decided to spend your time here? Doing more work?” you questioned, though not paying the man much attention, mumbling to yourself on the words on the page, completely unphased by Viktor’s lack of decorum, it’s not as if it’s the first time he got bored and decided to read it. “Would mixing it with metal only make it more unstable?” you mutter, not expecting an answer “As an alloy, maybe, or would that make it worse..” you tap the pen on your cheek in thought before scrambling to write your thoughts in the margins of Jayce’s research

“I don’t see reading through your essays and research papers as work”, he admits, a shameless smile gracing his face as he watched you mumble to yourself “More of a palate cleanser, really”

“I just thought that a rest day was supposed to be resting, like having time away from work?” you tried to put the idea of leaving and maybe getting some sleep into the man’s head, his eyebags were becoming a permanent feature on his face like a shadow he cannot be rid of. 

“Quite hypocritical, don’t you think?” a teasing look on his face at your words “Is today not also your day off?” he questioned even though he knew the answer. You simply rolled your eyes, trying to smile as he barked out a laugh.

While today was your break from lessons, it had quickly become anything but a rest day after you took the boys up on their offer, there was no way that you could complete your last year's work and help them if you didn’t give up your rest day- so undoubtedly you were a hypocrite, much to your chagrin. 

“Just because I give up my days off to help you doesn’t mean you need to do the same,” you tell him, not wanting the man to feel obligated to help you.

“Maybe I want to?”

Well, you can’t argue with that.

The two of them work on your rather small desk with an ease you wouldn’t expect, but you find yourself very comfortable working alongside him and somehow, the work seems to go by faster.

Maybe it was because you wouldn’t need to spend countless hours trying to figure out what chicken scratch either of them had written on your own. Instead, a second pair of eyes, Viktor’s eyes, made the process go by much faster, albeit with some laughter at what on earth either of them had written. You had even managed a trip to the library, something you rarely had time for, usually going to pick up books for the boys the day after, or Jayce would go the day after with a slip of paper. Not only did you and Viktor have the time to pick up some books, but you also went through and verified if they could have something useful inside. 

The sun was still shining bright in the sky when you and Viktor had dropped everything off at his lab, still a few hours left of the day. It was an uncharacteristically nice day outside, certainly warmer than you would’ve expected from the spring in Piltover, so the two of you decided to eat your packed lunches outside on a bench within the academy grounds, both too tired to bother going exploring the city for somewhere nicer. 

“Now you have helped me, do you think I could convince you to go home and get some sleep, the bags under your eyes are also large enough to be considered their entities” You smiled, laughing quietly at the man sitting next to you as he coughed back his food, clearly not expecting your smartmouth  

“As if you’re one to talk”, he quipped as you let out a shocked gasp, though quickly matching his smile

“How about I promise to go back to my apartments and take a breather if you go to yours?” you propositioned. Honestly, some time in bed sounded heavenly

“Only if I walk you back, I don’t want you to sneak back to your office, I hear you can often find yourself in places you aren’t supposed to”, he joked

“It’s a deal then” Both of you chose not to comment on the matching grins on your faces. 

—   

When Heimerdinger said your last year of study would be the hardest, you believed him. But never did you imagine you could be so swamped.

 This past week, you had corralled a table in the library to yourself, spending more time sitting in the uncomfortable seat than anywhere else. It was deadline season, and to say it was hitting you hard was an understatement. No matter how well prepared you thought you were, the workload was unimaginable, leaving you with barely enough time to sleep or eat. Jayce had joked that during his last year, he essentially became a book within the library, and while it was funny at the time now, you understood why, feeling more and more like an encyclopedia by the day. 

Luckily for you, your self-imprisonment was soon coming to an end; all you needed to do was read through your coursework one more time, and it would all be done, your last piece of work as a student of the academy. You would dwell on its bittersweetness another time as you read through another paragraph, completely absorbed in your work, completely missing the familiar sounds of footsteps and the tapping of a cane coming your way.

“I swear I need to get a tracker on you” Your head shot up at the sound of Viktor’s voice

“I’m not that hard to find”, you complain as he sits himself down in the chair closest to yours, cane leaning against the table 

“I don’t think you get much of a say on the matter, your not the one who has to aimlessly wander around the academy” 

“Whatever”, you glower, attempting to get back to your reading when his hand reaches out to grab yours. you jolt, looking up as he intertwines your fingers

“How are you doing be honest” he holds eye contact as his thumb rubs at your index fingers, stopping just after he knuckle before traveling back up 

You smile “I’m drowning” 

he hums “I can tell” You slump rather unceremoniously into your chair, eyes closed as he continues to rub affectionately at your knuckle, a half-hearted attempt to seep all the tension away from you “Have you got much more to do?” he questions voice soft 

“No, just need to read through it once more, then it should be good to submit” You let out a large breath of annoyance, wishing you were finished, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep

“Then you’re done?” he probes 

“Completly done, well, until my contract starts as a researcher in the summer”, you clarify, eyes opening slightly, not missing the slight smile on his face, looking down when you heard a rustling of papers only to see Viktor’s non-occupied hand grabbing at your work.

“Take a break; I’ll give it the last read-through. Knowing you, it’s already perfect.” his soft yet stern voice didn’t leave much room for argument, so you closed your eyes again, only for a moment letting the constant feel of his thumb lull you into a calm you had never known. 

It was only, however, when you heard the unmistakable voice of Jayce that your eyes opened again, you sent a sheepish smile his way at the admittance that you had, in fact, fallen asleep, trying not to laugh too loudly at his remarks on how much Viktor must have been boring you, if only he knew.

—

Since you had officially handed in all your work and your classes had finished, you now found yourself with a lot of free time, a prospect Viktor and Jayce very much enjoyed. Coming every morning to your door to walk you to their lab for a day of work. Not that you minded, but before Hextech, your plans for the summer would’ve been reading or doing whatever Heimerdinger would see as befitting, so the work was beneficial to you, stopping you from going extensional on what it is you want to dedicate your academic life to, especially since you had no ideas, other than those to help the boys revolutionalise hextech, their current program with the hexgates you were sure was due a breakthrough any day. 

You found yourself sat at Jayces desk, him gone for the afternoon schmoozing with some counsellors to try and get as much funding off them as he could. You found yourself tapping along to the melody of the song Viktor had put on, the only time you could have music was when Jayce was out, as he claimed it was too stimulating for him. Working exactly where the man had left off, creating a small prototype of the hexgate, one of many that were to be used in tests planned for later in the week. You barely batted an eye as Viktor appeared next to you, used to him appearing closer than most would

“It’s looking good”, he gestured to the model in your hand you simply hummed in response, adding the final gear, shoulders slumping when you put it down. 

“How many do we need again?” you ask, hands rubbing at the tension in your neck from huddling to get a good look at what you were doing.

“Too many”, you groaned at his sheepish admittance. It was silent for a moment or so before he spoke again, an unknown quality to his voice that made you look up at him in confusion. 

“Jayce and I were thinking..” he trailed off slightly 

“Oh no”, you joked, smiling when you caught the amusement now on his face 

“I know, how scary”, he smirked “Anyway, as you’re coming back as a scientist for the academy, we thought, why not make your place with us permanent.”

“Really?” you questioned, do they honestly want you to help them all the time with the work that could improve lives and be the history pages? 

“I don’t think we’d be able to function without you now” he admitted 

“I’d love to,” you tell him smiling 

“Good”, the relief flooded the man “Because we already asked and got the go-ahead from Heimerdinger”, he confessed

“That confident?” you teased

“Obviously” 

—

You thought you had done a good job at pretending that today was just any other day, but clearly, as Viktor sat next to you with a cupcake with a candle in it - you had been wrong.

“How did you know today was my birthday? I didn’t tell anyone?” you asked, astonished. 

“Heimerdinger told me”, he revealed after you stared at him, clearly pleased with himself 

“How does that end up in conversation?” you wonder

“Don’t be so nosey”, he teases, hand coming to grab at your nose 

“Says the one who went to our mentor to ask about my personal life”, you accused, but the large smile on your face showed no malice in your words

“Touche”, he forfeited this round, lighting the candle on the cake before pushing it back into your face you simply sent him a look of victory before blowing out the candle, he quickly disposed of the candle before giving you the cake to eat  

“Got any big plans for twenty-one?” he wondered aloud 

“Work with you” You shrugged your shoulders, laughing lightly as you dug into your birthday cake

“A noble pursuit, I’m sure” It was silent for a short while as you finished your cake, but you didn’t make a move to speak, knowing the look on his face, he wasn’t done “Not going out celebrating? With a boyfriend, maybe?” 

“No, no boyfriend, never had the time for any of that. Heimerdinger told me that when a woman dedicates her life to academia, she does not bother dreaming of a family or a relationship, and I agree not many would be able to handle it. Why do you ask?” you admit

“Don’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes is all”, he speaks nonachanlty despite his words being anything but  

“Well, your not”, you promise, lacing a hand with his

“Good” he brings your hand up his lips

—

You both had way too much stuff. The prospect of moving in together while still exciting the amount of work you had left made you gnaw at your bottom lip. You had a lot of help from Jayce and a rather reluctant Caitlyn to get the boxes into your and Viktor’s new home, and while she commented on its quaintness, it was certainly bigger than anywhere the two of you had ever dreamt of living in

“A family home”, Heimerdinger had teased the two of you when you told him, and you suppose he was right. You didn’t think much about the two spare rooms when you had purchased the house, thinking they would probably be offices, but Viktor absolute reluctance and disdain at your idea to turn one of the rooms into a library after looking at the sheer amount of books the two of you owned made you think differently, it wouldn’t take a smart man to know what he wanted to do with them. 

“Stop that” Viktor pulled your bottom lip away from your teeth, an annoyed glint in his eyes, clearly thinking about how many times he had told you those same words you simply kissed his thumb, making him smile at your affection

“There’s so much to do”, you inwardly groaned as you rested your head on his shoulder, making sure not to put too much of your weight on him

“We have the week; don’t need to do it all tonight”, he reminds you, giving a kiss on the top of your head

“Come on, I’ve already started in our room” You straighten up and follow him into your room looking at the picture frames he had already put around the room, one was placed on his bedside table, a photo Jayce had taken at your graduation with your cap and gown arms warped around Viktor a huge smile, all teeth as you look at the camera while Viktor is smiling proudly looking at you, smiling at the photo you move on to the frame he placed on the dresser, a piece of paper framed within it your hands grip the frame looking at the familiar words you had written:

‘The greatest scientific ventures are the ones that bend the rules of the institution’  

You turned to the man who was busying himself with a box filled with jumpers you had never seen him wear 

“You kept this?” you smile as he turns around, noticing his bashful expression at being caught. 

“You holding it, arent you?” he asked, trying to drive the conversation 

“Why,” you asked, not giving up so easily even as he caressed your face in an attempt to distract you groaning, he relented, he could not give you what you wanted, ever so spoiled by him you were

“At first, it was to remind me that it was all worth it” 

“At first?” you echo

“Then I kept it because it reminded me of you, of the future I want us to have, and that will only be possible if I kept working, even if it means going beyond the council and what they want.” 

“I was only shadowing your view, what you had said to Heimerdinger, something I wasn’t even supposed to hear”, you remind him.

“Well, I’m glad you did”, he admits “And I’m even more glad that you stole Jayces book because bending the rules is what brought us together”, his hand not on his cane gripped at your hip.  

“I’m glad I did, too”, you confirm your words with a kiss.

[soulprompts]

right place, right time prompts.

so i got watching a ton of new tv shows lately, and it occurred to me that actually i do love it when characters are unexpectedly saved by someone who just happened to be exactly in the right place at precisely the correct moment, yk? and i failed to think of the right name, so the title of this list is entirely thanks to a very dear friend of mine who informed me! so here's a list, i hope you guys love it, DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST OR EDIT IT!!! i like to edit them over time as new ideas come to me.

[ ALIBI ]: the sender provides a false alibi to protect the receiver from legal issues.

[ HAND ]: the sender suddenly arrives to grab the receiver's hand before they fall to their death

[ CAR ]: the sender arrives on scene as the impromptu getaway driver for the receiver (who hadn't been expecting it).

[ FATAL ]: the sender unwittingly arrives on scene when the receiver is being attacked, and to protect the receiver, they kill the assailant.

[ DISTRACT ]: the sender provides a diversion so the receiver can escape a dangerous situation.

[ OUT COLD ]: the sender knocks out an assailant before they can seriously wound the receiver.

[ DUNNO ]: the sender lies about the location of the receiver in order to protect them from pursuers.

[ FAKE ]: the sender, in a situation where they're forced to kill the receiver, only pretends to kill the receiver and takes their "dead" body away in the car.

[ SACRIFICE]: the sender sacrifices their life to ensure the receiver's survival.

[ BACK-UP ]: the sender arrives just in time to help the receiver in a fight.

[ EXCUSES ]: the sender provides an excuse for the receiver to stay at an event where they shouldn't be.

[ HIDDEN ]: the sender hides the receiver from pursuers.

[ SHELTER ]: the sender finds the unconscious receiver and brings them to a safe place.

[ HERO ]: the sender tackles the receiver out of the way of an attack.

[ RUN! ]: the sender tackles the attacker so the receiver can make a safe get-away.

[ FIGHT ]: the sender fights off the assailants so the receiver can flee to safety.

[ INTERCEPT ]: the sender unexpectedly emerges and stands between the receiver and a threat.

[ MISDIRECTION ]: the sender points a group of pursuers in the opposite direction to buy the receiver some time to hide.

[ SANCTUARY ]: the sender opens the door when the receiver knocks in search of help, and brings them into their home.

[ REPUTATION ]: the sender, being somewhat infamous in the area, arrives when the receiver is being hassled, causing the assailants to flee rather than risk the consequences of crossing them.

[ RECOGNIZE ]: the sender pretends to know the receiver in order to help them avoid unwanted attention.

[ AFAR ]: the sender incapacitates, distracts or kills an assailant from a distance to protect the receiver.

[ FRIENDS ]: the sender, unable to attend directly, sends friends over to protect the receiver when they encounter a threat.

[ NEGOTIATE ]: the sender intervenes in a tense situation and manages to smoothly persuade a potential threat to leave the receiver alone.

[ BRIBE ]: the sender gives a threat a significant amount of money to leave the receiver alone.

[ ANNOUNCE ]: the sender issues a declaration that the receiver is under their protection, assuring all potential attackers that any attempts will result in a brutal retaliation from them.

VERBAL PROMPTS:

" they're with me. "

" i was with them all night. "

" hey! these guys bothering you? "

" i wouldn't do that if i were you. "

" you must've really pissed those guys off, huh? "

" follow my lead... "

" don't worry. you're safe here. i won't let anyone hurt you. "

" you're lucky i found you when i did; those people were right down the street. "

" get in the car! now! "

" i'm gonna buy you as much time as i possibly can. make it count, okay? get out of here. now! "

" you can come out now. they're long gone. "

" nobody's going to hurt you like that again. "

[starmocha]

Be My Valentines [Sylus + Daughter ★ 926 words ★ Masterlist ★ Birdie Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus and his daughter get ready for a special Valentine’s Day dinner with you. A/N: This was a very impromptu writing piece so pardon the shortness and rushed editing. An anon sent in a very cute ask and I couldn’t resist. (I will try to resume this series in the coming weeks, along with the other toddler series. Forgive my easily distracted brain lol) I also don’t care that technically the game doesn’t really have Valentine’s Day and they have their own equivalent holiday, Azure’s Echo Day, but I want to use Valentine’s Day instead. :P Tag list: @lavlynyan @miudle @alfredosaws @solifloris @nezuswritingdesk @valkyyriia @yes-no-maybe-soo @natimiles @yourlocalcatscammer @callilypso @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme @qyuin 【 request to be added 】

“Almost done, baby,” Sylus said to the little toddler girl sitting on the bathroom counter in a bright red dress as she clutched her Smiley Dino plushie while he fixed her hair. The girl sulked and her eyes darted up to meet her father’s reflection in the mirror, watching as he finished braiding her hair, tying it off with a bright red hair tie that had a heart-shaped decoration.

“Daddy, why do I have to wear this dress today?”

Sylus smirked at his daughter’s pout.

“Daddy’s taking you and Mommy out for a special dinner for Valentine’s Day,” he answered. He helped her stand up on the counter and gestured to the mirror. “Now don’t you look pretty, my little birdie?”

The girl smiled and turned her head to the side to admire the two little twin braids her father did for her. She turned around, her plushie clutched tighter to her body. “Are you going to do the same for Mommy’s hair?”

Sylus chuckled and shook his head. “Mommy will do her own hair and makeup, but Daddy did send a dress down to her workplace for her to change into before we pick her up for dinner.”

His daughter tilted her head to the side curiously. “Is she wearing a red dress like me?”

Sylus shook his head again as he leaned down to kiss his daughter’s cheek. “No, baby, she’s going to be wearing a black dress to match with Daddy’s suit.”

The girl looked at her father’s black suit he wore and her pout deepened.

Immediately, Sylus noticed his daughter’s disposition changing. He playfully pinched her cheek gently, making her giggled. “Now why are you pouting, baby?”

She looked at her father sadly. “I want to match with Mommy and Daddy…”

“You are matching with Daddy,” Sylus responded patiently, gesturing to the bright red tie he had on. “See? Daddy’s tie is the same shade of red as your pretty dress.”

This seemed to appease his daughter, her smile returning.

“Okay, just give Daddy a moment to put on some cologne and then we will head to Linkon to pick up Mommy for our dinner reservation.”

“Can I help, Daddy?” The little girl gave him her best puppy dog eyes complete with a full pout.

Sylus laughed and tapped her lips lightly with his finger. “Alright, enough of those lips tonight, Little Miss,” he said teasingly, nodding once. “Hold out your hands, baby.”

The girl carefully sent her dino plushie down before holding out two small hands with her palms up for her father to lightly spritz some cologne on. She wrinkled her nose a little, unused to the musky men’s fragrance. When Sylus leaned down closer to his daughter, she lightly patted his neck with the cologne, smiling brighter. “All done, Daddy!”

He kissed her cheek again, thanking her before one of his arms swooped around to gather her into his embrace.

“Daddy! Smiley Dino!”

“Oops,” he said playfully and leaned down so his daughter could grab her plushie again. His eyes twinkled in amusement when his daughter hugged her plushie tightly. “Is he coming to dinner with us?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically.

“Hm, I don’t know if the restaurant will allow little dinos into their establishment…”

His daughter immediately looked worried. Her lips quivered and she asked hesitantly, “They won’t?”

Sylus nuzzled his cheek against his daughter’s. “Don’t worry, Daddy will just pull some strings if they don’t,” he responded, adding cordially, “Smiley Dino can come to dinner with us tonight.”

“Yay!”

The father-daughter duo made their way down to the garage where a sleek luxury black car awaited them. Sylus carefully placed his daughter in her car seat in the back, and as he buckled her seatbelt, the little girl piped up, her face furrowed in confusion again. “Daddy, what is that?”

Sylus looked down at the item set next to car seat. He picked up a small crow plushie holding a plush envelope with a pink heart on it. “For my little Valentine here,” he said, handing his daughter her gift, smiling when she gasped excitedly, her eyes darting back and forth between the two plushies she was holding before squeezing them both tightly in a hug.

“Do you like your present, my little birdie?”

The girl nodded happily before her smile dropped suddenly. Sylus looked concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a present for Daddy…”

“Is that all?” Sylus questioned in amusement. He stroked her cheek gently and kissed the top of her head. “My present is my little girl here. There is no greater gift than you, my sweet little birdie.”

He kissed her again before he closed the door and made his way to the driver’s seat. He glanced up at the rearview mirror seeing his daughter was already happily playing with her two plushies. He turned the engine on and then pulled out into the eternally dark streets of the N109 Zone.

The car drove under streetlights and neon signs, heading in the direction of Linkon City. With his daughter in the backseat, Sylus drove slower than normal, the gentle smooth drive eventually lulling the little girl to sleep.

Sylus snuck a peek at his sleeping daughter in the rearview mirror and smiled again to himself, knowing the bouquet of red roses next to him in the passenger’s seat would never match his wife’s gift of giving him their precious daughter, but he was eternally grateful that both she and his daughter would always be his Valentines every year, just like he was theirs.

[the-wrong-providence]

A Week On The Water - Chapter 1

Series Masterlist - Next Chapter

Pairing: Harry Castillo x F!Reader

Summary: You're used to being the youngest, unseen and unnoticed by the people you're surrounded with, not particularly wanting the life that your parents intended for you and your siblings. Harry, on the other hand, is used to being seen for the wrong reasons. But at your sister's wedding, you find each other. After only an hour of his company, you offer an impromptu invitation to your family's lakehouse vacation, where you're hoping you'll finally have someone who understands you.

Word Count: 5106

Chapter Warnings: A Little Fluff, A Little Angst, Alcohol Use, Weddings, Age Difference (Reader is late twenties, Harry is in his forties), Siblings, Mentions of Failed Relationships, Psychoanalysis that might stem from my own issues, No Use of Y/N, Consistent and unapologetic overuse of commas, Mixed use of British and American spellings of words because I didn't go through and change them to one specific variation of dialect,

Additional Notes: I have tried to avoid using descriptors for the reader, but if you notice any, let me know and I'll remove them. I also let my partner edit this chapter (he's better at sentence structures than I am), but he got distracted partway through, so I finished it myself. I have also not watched Materialists yet, so I may have interpreted Harry completely wrong, but oh well.

As the CEO of a flourishing private equity firm, Harry was very much used to wearing tailored suits. He was the kind who seemed to thrive in business meetings about investments and buyouts and the like. The kind who exuded quiet confidence and an easy authority over people. He had all the trappings of success.

He stood, alone, at the edge of the dance floor, leaning against the bar with a glass of red wine - Harry was fairly certain that Javi had had several crates of his own wines shipped from Majorca. The celebration was in full swing, guests were dancing and laughing, enjoying the wedding. Of course Harry was enjoying it as well, it's not every day your best friend gets married to the love of his life. He'd given a heartfelt and earnest speech which resulted in a few teary smiles and several laughs at Javi's expense. But now, in the afterglow of vows and a gorgeous wedding cake, he found himself quietly observing rather than participating.

Javi had given him a plus one to the wedding but he hadn't used it. He'd much prefer attending by himself than with someone he barely knew. He'd yet to meet someone who he clicked with, unlike Javi, who was currently dancing with his new bride in their blissful bubble of love. Too often, his dates had ended with questions about the profit his company brought in, or subtle comments about the value of his home. People tended to want what he had rather than him. It's what now left him lonely in the middle of a room as full as this one.

Watching Javi and Jules dancing together made it easier. Harry had been there through it all. Initially, Harry had been skeptical when he mentioned a matchmaker but seeing Javi fall in love had eased his doubts. Harry had listened as Javi had nattered on and on about this wonderful woman. He'd watched Javi stress over the perfect bottle of wine to take to her parent's home when he first met them. He'd helped set up the yacht on the evening that Javi had proposed to her. Witnessing their relationship had been something he considered a privilege, so naturally he was intrigued by the magic matchmaker.

Javi had been the one to introduce Harry to Lucy, and he was immediately enchanted. She was beautiful. A picture of elegance and sophistication that caught him off guard. Logically, intellectually, even socially, they were easily compatible - she had this quick wit that made it easy to strike up conversation. For a moment, he let himself believe that she was everything he was looking for.

Yet there was something about her that he couldn't pinpoint: sure, they had just met, but the superficial conversation they were having made him think. She didn't seem like the type who would want more than that with him. So, when she stood to greet someone else she knew, he excused himself. He found a reason to slip away, back to the bar.

That's why he was leaning against the bar, nursing the top-shelf wine that Javi brewed in his vineyard, deep in thought as he watched people dancing. Maybe he was asking for too much. Or maybe the connection he wanted just wasn't an option for a man like him.

But then he saw you.

He'd spoken to you very briefly, amongst the endless number of family photos that Jules wanted. The younger sister. The other bridesmaid. You'd seemed slightly awkward earlier, holding your bouquet and waiting for the bride to tell you where she wanted you. That awkwardness had apparently vanished with the several glasses of champagne you must have had to drink since the reception started.

You were currently barefoot on the dance floor, holding a little boy in your arms as you twirled around with the two flower girls. It's not that you were a particularly good dancer, you were out of time with the song that Harry was fairly certain was Earth, Wind & Fire. But he was utterly absorbed with the joy on your face. You were enjoying the moment, not caring who was watching. He couldn't stop.

Unlike him, you didn't seem to be trying at all. You didn't have to. The children were giggling as you let them tug you along, tiaras askew and little outfits rumpled. Everything about you seemed so genuine, authentic, easy. The toddler you were holding had his head rested against your shoulder, a tired smile on his face as you smoothed the flyaway strands on his hair. It was obvious that exhaustion was seeping into his little bones so you let him use you as a pillow. You were warm and gentle with him and it was very clear that he adored you for it.

Harry watched as the toddler's father came to take him from you and for a moment he was thrown by the idea that maybe he was your child, maybe that was why it seemed so easy for you. It shouldn't have bothered him, yet there was still a tangible sense of relief when the boy was handed to the maid-of-honor and the flower girls ran after them.

He took another sip of wine, watching you meander through the guests and towards the bar. You smiled at familiar faces, said hello to family members and listened attentively to people who stopped you to talk. It was a stark contrast to the type of person he was used to.

You stopped at the bar several feet from him, ordering. Something with bubbles is what you asked for. He studied you as you laughed at what the bartender said: eyes crinkled in the corners, cheeks lightly flushed. Harry couldn’t decide if it was from the drink or from having to keep up with the three young children who demanded your attention on the dancefloor.

He finished his drink, placing the empty glass down on the bar, although he didn't order another yet - instead he drifted towards you. You stood alone, absently stirring your freshly made drink with a cocktail straw. The straps of your heels were looped over your wrist, having long since chosen practicality over pain. He wasn't quite sure what to say yet but he knew he wanted to say something. He swallowed, glancing at your glass and took a breath: "You don't like wine?" He asked, with as much confidence as he could muster. He was a millionaire, CEO of one of the most profitable financial firms, and he was struggling to talk to a pretty woman right now.

You let out an easy laugh, looking at him as you took a sip. "Wine-drunk me is not someone I want half of the people here to ever meet," you replied, smiling as your head tilted to the side.

His brows furrowed, leaning on the bar as he faced you. "No? Why not? You get wild and go crazy?"

You giggled. He liked it. "No - I just get a little soft and dreamy. I get very clingy and tell people I love them." You said as your thumb idly traced the condensation on your glass.

"That doesn't sound so bad," he teased, fingers fiddling with the ring on his right hand. "So what are you drinking instead?"

The smile on your face turned to a slightly cheeky grin. "Gin and lemonade."

Harry grinned back. "I see, you've gone straight for the spirits," he said. "A very different kind of drunk, I imagine."

You took another sip of your drink, the citrus of the gin lingering. "Everyone's best friend."

After a brief pause, you spoke again. "I liked your speech," you said. "It was surprisingly sentimental."

He huffed, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I was hoping to impress with my emotional range," he admitted, though his voice carried the light edge of self-deprecation. His fingers tapped on the bartop, a hint of nervousness running through him.

In truth, the speech had been a source of anxiety for months. There were several times he caught himself typing and retyping when he was supposed to be in meetings with shareholders. One afternoon he had spent an hour trying to find the right metaphor, interrupted only by his secretary knocking on his door telling him to go home.

"Well, you made Javi cry," you pointed out, eyebrows raising.

He chuckled. "Javi cries at everything," he countered. But his shoulders eased, the tension bleeding out with each small laugh. You both paused as the low hum of music filled the space between you. "You're the baby sister, right?" He asked suddenly, his eyes lingered on your face, expression a little softer now.

You hummed. "What gave it away?" Your line of sight drifted to where your sisters stood, bride and maid-of-honor, crouched together and laughing as they made an attempt at bustling the wedding dress. You sipped your drink.

He studied you a second longer before he followed your gaze. "You act like no one is watching," he said, his voice quieter, more thoughtful.

You glanced at him, surprised by his observation. "Is that a bad thing?" You asked, adjusting your footing as the grip you had on your glass tightened slightly.

Harry looked at you again as a slow and gentle smile reappeared on his face. "No," he said back with a sincerity that eased the tightness in your chest. "Must be a little lonely though."

For a moment, you were quiet. "It's their day," you murmured looking at where Jules was heading back to Javi, the train of her dress now safely stowed.

He chuckled. "Yeah it is," he said, eyes still on you. "But that doesn't mean you don't exist right now too."

You paused, your curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"

Harry took a small step closer, his voice lowering just enough for you to hear. "You're allowed to take up some space," he said, a quiet wisdom in his voice.

You paused, considering his words and the warmth behind them. "Let me guess," you said with a sardonic smile, a playfulness in your voice despite the apparent tension: "you're an only child."

He laughed, low and easy. "I'm just saying, even if people don't notice you right now it doesn't mean they don't see you," he said, watching the dancefloor. The band were playing an early noughties pop song, the room alive with the young adults that still had the energy to dance and sing along.

You opened your mouth to respond but let it close again, words caught somewhere between thoughts.

"And besides," he added with a hint of mischief on his face, "sometimes not being noticed means you get to have the most fun." He extended a hand toward you, steady and sure.

You glanced around, fairy lights glowing overhead, music pulsing, the floor still alive with music.

"I promise I won't step on your toes," he said, nodding towards the dance floor.

You looked at your heels still dangling on your wrist. For the first time that evening, you realised that being invisible might have its perks. So you placed your glass down on the bar and took his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm as his fingers wrapped gently around yours. He was steady, a welcome change from your uncertainty. "I'll never speak to you again if you do." You said with a smile. Wouldn't matter either way, you'll probably only ever see Harry at parties that Jules and Javi throw.

He grinned. "Sounds like a reasonable consequence," he said, leading you towards the dance floor.

You couldn't help but smile. "I have to warn you, my last dance partner was my three year old nephew," you said, letting him pull you through the groups of people dancing.

He raised his eyebrows. "What happened? You messed up the steps of your waltz too many times?" He teased, finding a space to pull you just a little closer.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "It was his bedtime, actually," you said as Harry smirked.

The band continued their uncanny ability to play every noughties anthem. Hips swayed side to side, knees bending low to the beat. Well, it was mostly you, Harry seemed more uncertain of his dance moves. Even so, he spun you under his arm before spinning under yours. He couldn't help but smile every time you giggled.

The more you loosened up, the easier it was to shift the weight from both of your shoulders. Somewhere between the verses of semi-familiar lyrics he found a connection, like he was finally standing with someone who didn't just see but noticed.

When the music shifted to something slower, neither of you made a move to leave the dancefloor. Instead, Harry's hand tentatively found your waist, the other tracing up your arm to reach your hand. His palm was warm. Bigger than yours.

The buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses had melted into the background. "You're a good dancer," he said with a wry grin, filling the quiet that had settled between you.

He watched as a small grin curled on your lips, your head tilting as you let out an entertained exhale. "I used to go clubbing a lot," you admitted, daring him to make something of it.

He hummed in amusement. "Hm. Youngest Child Syndrome again." He tsked, a faint smirk tugging on his features.

You rolled your eyes as you scoffed. "And how's that?" You asked incredulously.

Leaning back, he studied you for a second. "You always felt overlooked, right?" He said. "So you probably acted out, annoyed your parents by rebelling. Loud outfits, louder friends, staying out late..." His words trailed off. "Did I get that right?"

You blinked once, and then again, unsure whether to be impressed or pissed off. He somehow had this unnerving ability to see right through you. For a moment, it was quiet. "Are you psychoanalysing me now?" You asked, unsure whether to argue or beg him to keep looking.

Harry paused, his smirk softening. "I'm sorry," he murmured lowly, earnestly. "I'm not judging. Just... trying to understand you a little more." He said as you both turned on the dancefloor. His eyes dipped away from yours. "We have a lot in common."

You shook your head as you laughed. "I doubt that." Your hand on his shoulder shifted.

He looked at you again. "You don't believe I had rebellious years?" His smile warmed you. It felt familiar, almost.

Your eyebrow raised. "Aren't you the CEO of-"

"Before that," he chuckled. "I inherited the company from my father."

"Ah, a nepo baby," you teased, as though it was any different for anyone else at this wedding.

Harry's fingers tightened on your waist as he laughed. "Yeah. Yes." He said. "And my father won't let me forget it." He added, slightly more subdued.

Studying him, you saw the way that his gaze lingered somewhere far off. "Sounds like he casts a long shadow," you said softly, with a slight exhale.

He gave a humorless smile. "He doesn't leave much room for anyone else." There was a brief pause and then he looked at you again, more present this time. "I guess that's why I noticed you. Because I used to go unnoticed too."

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you stayed silent. The quiet settled comfortably between you.

He took another breath, face twisting into one of thoughtfulness. “I’m not trying to dissect you,” Harry added after a moment. “People are more than what they show. You especially.”

You give him a dubious glance, a little unconvinced. “Me especially?”

He nodded, eyes locked with yours now. “You walk into a room like you’re invisible. But I don’t think anyone really is.”

The music petered out and came to a quiet stop. Your fingers brushed against his nape inadvertently. “You’re surprisingly observant for someone who inherited an empire.”

Harry grinned, letting out an entertained exhale. “Maybe that’s why I am. When everyone hands you the world, you start wondering what part of it is actually yours.”

Something about that stuck with you more than you wanted it to. The moment hung between you, suddenly delicate. Like if either of you said too much, it might break. You glanced down briefly before tilting your head. “So what part is yours?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then smiled. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

Before you could say another word, you were interrupted. The moment of silent understanding was broken when your eldest sister approached. Beth, the maid-of-honor, known for being the most organised person in human history, was all over her duties. "Harry," she began, barely noticing how he pulled away from you. Your waist felt cold quickly. "Would you mind dancing with Javi's mom? He and Jules want to do their first dance and they don't want her to feel left out." She said.

You pulled yourself away further as Harry cleared his throat and glanced at you again. "I… yes, I can dance with her," he said, ever the gentleman. He looked over at the mother of the groom, who was still sitting in her seat at the top table.

Beth turned to you, her determination to make this the best night of Jules' life was evident. "You have to dance with Ben, and please make sure he doesn't ruin it." She said, almost exasperated. You looked over at your brother, who looked like he intended on drinking half the bar. He had never really grown out of his frat boy phase despite never having attended a single frat party. Or college at all. Still, he was your brother and probably the only person who could make you laugh while dragging his feet onto a dance floor.

You sighed, looking back at Harry. He looked back at you again before offering a polite smile. "I'll catch you in a bit?" He said, voice low enough that only you could hear. His hand brushed your arm slightly, a warm gesture that had you inhaling sharply.

Words didn't quite manage to form so you simply nodded. Something about the way he spoke to you was making your chest feel fuzzy. Either that or the gin was hitting you all at once. Why did he always sound like he meant more than what he said?

As soon as Harry had walked away, you were heading to Ben. He stood at the bar, fingers tapping impatiently on the surface, chin leaning on his palm as he waited for his drink. "Benji, we have to dance together," you said, sliding up to stand next to him.

He groaned. "Why?" He grumbled, looking at the dancefloor and then back at his shot of… something that he'd just been served. He picked it up. "Dance with someone else-"

You took the shot from him just before he could lift it to his mouth. "It's Jules' wedding. Just do this one thing." You said, clearly beyond his level of immaturity. "I don't particularly want to either." Your eyes drifted back to where Harry was talking to Javi's mom.

Ben looked at you. "Ouch," he muttered before following your gaze. "Him? Really? He's like… twice your age." He smirked a little, reaching for the shot you stole from him.

Scowling, you downed it before he could get his hand on it, cringing at the taste of tequila. That does take you back to your college years. Still grimacing, you placed the shot glass back onto the bar surface.

"That was mine-"

"Shut up," you sighed again, pulling on his hand to get him to the edge of the dancefloor with you. "It's an open bar, get another one later."

Ben rolled his eyes dramatically but let you drag him toward the dance floor. “You’re lucky I love Jules more than I love tequila,” he grumbled.

You didn’t respond, not wanting to encourage him. Instead your eyes drifted back to the top table where Harry was gently leading Javi’s mom to the dance floor. His hand was steady at her back, his smile genuine. God. Was he just charming with absolutely everyone?

As the newlyweds moved to the center for their first dance, you stood watching from the edge. The band started to play something soft, unassuming, the kind of melody that was just about familiar enough; probably a request from Jules to avoid clichés. Javi and Jules stood in the center and the sound of the music drifted through the air. You watched the pair of them begin to sway in sync to the music, reminded of just how sickeningly perfect they were for each other. Unpracticed but so easily natural. That's what you get when you work with a professional matchmaker.

Jules was beautiful in her expensive blush-coloured A-Line gown. She was beaming at Javi, who was undeniably handsome in his three piece suit. He, naturally, was beaming back, his forehead against hers as they whispered things only the other could hear. The crowd was hushed, too busy watching their affection for each other.

After a minute of the pair of them alone on the dancefloor, Javi glanced at Harry who took it as his cue. He led Javi's mother onto the dancefloor. She laid a hand on his arm like they'd known each other for years. Which they had, if Harry's speech was anything to go by. He was practically a second son to her.

When they were followed by your parents, and Beth and her husband, Ben tugged you onto the dancefloor too. He awkwardly positioned his hand somewhere between your elbow and your wrist. He clearly wasn’t planning to take this seriously. You rested your hand on Ben’s shoulder and he made a show of pretending to swoon.

“You’re awful,” you muttered, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear you.

“And yet here you are dancing with me, Sparky,” he grinned. Sparky. God. You hated that nickname - especially when it came from him. “Seriously though, what’s going on with you and the dilf?”

You tried to play it off with a scoff. “There’s nothing going on. And he doesn't have kids, so he can't be a dilf.”

“Please." Ben snorted. "I watched you two dancing. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive. And dilf is a state of mind.” He teased.

Your glare deepened. He was being a dick. As usual. It was his job as your older brother. “Can you not be disgusting for, like, five minutes?”

Ben smirked but dropped it, spinning you slowly like he actually knew what he was doing. He caught your hand as you came out of the spin, steadying you with more grace than you expected. You gave him a look.

“Okay,” you said, suspiciously. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” You glanced around the dancefloor that you were on, surprised by the ease with which he seemed to be dancing. Not nearly as stiff and unpracticed as you'd expected.

He shrugged, a feigned look of hurt on his face at your shock. “I’ll have you know I was very briefly enrolled in a ballroom dance class.”

You blinked. “What? Why?”

“Cute instructor.”

You huffed. Of course. It was pretty much the only thing that could motivate him.

He laughed at your reaction, and before long, the two of you had fallen into an easy pattern. It was the kind of familiarity that stemmed from a shared childhood of stupid family games and impromptu kitchen concerts.

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Admit it. You’re having a good time.”

“Good time, my ass.” You muttered back.

He twirled you again, this time dipping you dramatically enough to earn a slight squawk of surprise. You came up laughing, your cheeks warm. When the song wound down, changing to something livelier, both of you were smiling and a little worn out. Ben leaned in as polite applause came from the guests, many of them joining the dance floor.

“Still awful?” He asked.

You considered it before relenting. “Maybe slightly less than awful.”

“I’ll take it.”

He gave you a small salute and retreated back to the bar, already plotting his next cocktail. You hesitated before following behind him, glancing back at Harry who was making Javi's mother practically cry with laughter as he stepped with her on the dancefloor. His gaze shifted, just briefly catching yours. 

Ben followed your line of sight and let out a low chuckle. “State of mind,” he whispered smugly.

You elbowed him hard in the ribs and he wheezed.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but you were smiling and, unfortunately for you, your brother seemed to notice everything. "Can I have my phone please?" You held out a hand.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and reaching into his pocket to pull your phone out. "The fact Jules didn’t think about bridesmaids dresses with pockets is beyond me." He murmured more to himself than you as he passed it over.

Unlocking it, you expected to see a photo from the wedding breakfast, or perhaps a video of you dancing with your nieces and nephew. What you didn't expect was the message you'd received.

Nathan: Hey. Just wanted to congratulate Jules and Javi. Hoping you can pass this on to them. They deserve all the happiness in the world.

Your fingers hovered over the screen. For a moment, everything else disappeared. Your thumb brushed over the absence of a ring on your finger. The name alone stirred up a strange mix of guilt and ache. It'd been a while since he last messaged.

You read it again. It was… sweet. Nothing wrong with it at all. But still, it felt uninvited. He didn't have to say anything. You broke up with him months ago.

It almost felt targeted. He might as well have just said, Look, your sister got married. Could've been us, but you ruined that. Hope you're miserable xx

Well, maybe that was a little too much, but you wouldn't blame him for thinking that. It'd make you feel a lot better if he was a dick about it, but here he was being mature and making you feel worse.

Before Ben or anyone else could read it, you swiped away the notification, handing the phone back to him. "Thanks," you murmured. Ben took it and slipped it back into his pocket, far too busy ordering a Long Island iced tea to notice the change in your demeanour.

You needed some air and the door to the balcony suddenly seemed impossibly far away.

Just a few steps towards it and you felt a hand on your arm. Turning quickly, you were about to make an excuse when you saw those brown eyes again.

"Hey sweetheart," Harry smiled at you.

Another glance at the door and his brows knitted together. Given how easy it was for him to read you earlier, it came as no surprise that he knew something had changed. It was like he could read all those thoughts in your head. "I need some air," he said, fingers curling around your arm. "Come with me?"

You stared at him. Gorgeous and considerate? "Yeah, okay," you murmured, letting him guide you to the balcony.

The cool night air hit you as soon as you stepped outside. It was sharp, refreshing in comparison to the warm buzz inside. Stepping up to the railing, you let out a heavy exhale. It was cold and solid as rock as you leaned against it. You hadn't anticipated thinking about Nathan today and it brought up a lot of feelings you'd been trying to suppress for a while.

"You okay?" Harry's voice was gentle, like a balm that soothed the guilt you felt.

You hesitated. It felt like a lot to admit to a guy you barely knew. You looked up at him, to see his look of concern. You shook your head before you could stop yourself. "I mean... yeah. No. I'm... it's kind of complicated," you glanced away, towards the skyline of the city. The sky was streaked with blends of oranges and blues, the sun slowly setting over the buildings on the horizon. 

Harry's expression softened but he didn't press further. Instead he stood beside you, his arm warm and soft as it brushed yours. "Weddings are hard for some," he said simply. There was a beat of silence between the two of you before he spoke again. "You don't have to pretend it's not.” He looked at you, that knowing look in his eyes.

The ache in your chest loosened, replaced with something safer.

"You're weird," the words left your mouth before you could stop yourself.

He let out a huff of laughter, turning to look at you. "Weird?"

"Yeah, like..." You paused as you thought, narrowing your eyes. "Wise."

For a moment he simply studied you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Your fingers rubbed at your forehead, exasperated by your own behaviour. "Sorry, I'm... I'm not usually like this," you admitted, letting out a slightly self-deprecating laugh. "I may have had a shot of tequila."

He laughed out loud, his hand moving to rest on your hip. "Yeah, tequila will do that," he mused.

His hand felt nice there, good even. Warm. Steady. Firm. Like your own personal anchor. 

"You should come with me to the lake house," you murmured suddenly, staring up at him.

Harry blinked, surprise flickering across his face. "The lake house?"

A smile tugged at your lips. "Yeah, my family has this lake house," you explained, scraping stray strands of your hair behind your ears. "We're spending a week there, heading down tonight. Well, obviously Jules and Javi are going on their honeymoon instead."

He stared for a moment. Silence stretched between you and a hint of doubt crept in. You barely knew him, he was twice your age, he was just being nice. “You’re inviting me on your family getaway?” His eyebrows raised.

"I mean, you're a CEO. Busy. You can't just take a week off-"

"Hey," he interrupted, his voice low and sure, silencing every second thought you were having. "You want me to come with you?" He asked.

Your shoulders relaxed a little. "It'd... be nice. Having someone easy to talk to."

Another smile from him. "Then yeah. I'll come. My secretary keeps telling me to take time off anyway." He said, hand still warm on your hip.

Your features softened, the tension from the evening melting away. "Yeah?" The anxiety of a week with your family was already easing.

He squeezed your hip gently. "Okay."

Hi!

Thanks for reading this first chapter! I've been super into writing this series for a couple of weeks now - I was finally motivated to write for the first time in a couple of years. I hope you enjoyed it. I intend on sharing chapters on Mondays, but life is busy, so we'll see! Love you :)

Taglist (Let me know if you want to be added, I'm figuring it out as I go): @strawberrylemontart1

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 16

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: TREY, minor injury, language, drinking, violence, ptsd, angst, not proofread Wordcount: 7K A/C: and if i tell you i debated between this song and cruel summer by taylor swift for this chapter lmao. anyway... my apologies in advance i love y'all

Before London

Smoothing over my dark brown sheath dress I watch the elevator ascend each floor. 10, 11, 13, 14 - finally 15 and with a ding the doors open. My heels clack on the marble, echoing around the floor as I walk assertively along the hallway, holding my black leather purse on my shoulder. Finally I come to the right door. 

Linda Halford Managing Media Director Dallas Wings

Allowing myself one deep breath, I exhale to compose myself before knocking on the door. Linda had called me last night, interrupting the carefully planned moment I had prepared myself to finally read. One thing I knew for sure was that impromptu meetings with the boss rarely meant anything good.

Maybe she had seen the countless fan edits of me and Paige, the comments under posts and the clips filmed by other people - the lingering gazes and gentle touches we thought we were keeping hidden. It turns out not being able to show care and tenderness to those you love takes a lot of brain power. I wasn’t strong enough, my body pulled to her like a magnet. It wasn’t on purpose when I stood next to her and leaned my shoulder against hers. And I knew it wasn’t on purpose when Paige walked by me and her hand lingered on my lower back, brushed against my fingers. But all of this the fans had noticed. We had become their favourite subject of study. It felt as if millions of eyes were on us constantly. And I guess technically they were.

“Izara, hello, always so stylish,” Linda gives me a rare smile, letting me into her office. I had never been in there before and from what I’d heard, not many others had either. 

“Hey Linda,” I smile. It didn’t bother me anymore that she used my name. I had gotten used to it. Linda did what she wanted, she had no interest in pleasing you and in a city that was overly warm and nice all the time I appreciated it.

“Please, have a seat,” she says seriously. I follow her to the desk, carefully sitting down on the black leather and pulling out my calendar, assuming optimistically that this would be some sort of posting schedule discussion. “No, no, you won’t be needing your calendar.”

“Oh, right,” I mumble, gulping as I put it down with my bag on the ground. 

For a moment Linda merely looks at me with an impression I can not read for the life of me.

“Gosh, how will I get all my employees to dress like you,” she smiles - her attempt at a joke.

“I would rather not see Trey in a dress like this,” I joke to lighten the mood and to my surprise the older woman laughs.

“You’re correct, very much so,” she grins, opening a folder. My folder full of evaluations and content I had produced. “So, you’ve been here for a little over three months. How are you enjoying Dallas in july?”

“It’s very warm,” I immediately respond, already feeling the stickiness on my back grow. “People are very nice.”

“It’s tiring sometimes, isn’t it? The niceness.”

I’m surprised by her frankness. “Definitely.”

“But you’ve liked working here?”

“Yes,” I reply without hesitation. And it was true. My old office job paid more, was more steady, the hours were better. But being on the road with the team, getting to be a part of a community had become much more important to me. I preferred it this way. “I love it.”

Linda smiles slightly. “It shows. I called you in because you have absolutely exceeded our expectations.”

“I have?” I ask, shocked. Was Linda praising me?

She nods proudly, scrolling through the media statistics on her computer. “Absolutely. And I will admit, I have a soft spot on you.”

I correct my posture, surprised by what I’m hearing. I didn’t think Linda would have a soft spot on anyone. In my head she didn’t even have a soft spot on her husband.

“My colleagues did not want to hire you when we were looking for a content producer. You were too young and inexperienced, but I saw something in you,” she explains, looking into my eyes. “Guts. You had a comfortable, well paying job and you wanted more. That takes courage. I appreciate that. You flipped your whole life around to come here.”

That was probably the first time anyone’s ever told me I have guts. I was always being told I was too careful, that I should take more chances, yet when I told my family I was moving to Dallas they told me I was being stupid, careless. It felt good to get that validation from someone. Izara Chopra has guts, everyone. Who would’ve thought. 

“So, what are your plans for the future? Where do you see yourself in five years?” Linda asks, leaning forward in her power suit. Quite honestly this might have been the first time in ten years where I didn’t have a five year plan which both terrified and exhilarated me.

“Let me be frank, I don’t really know,” I admit. “I love it in Dallas, I would definitely love to stay in America, perhaps even get to work in a few more places around here. On the west coast, maybe?”

Linda nods, a surprising friendliness on her face. “I see. Well, the media teams are really connected, I would be sad to see you go but I’m sure after a couple years I could get you a position for the Sparks or the Valkyries.”

My eyes widen as I listen. In a couple years? Does that mean…?

“Maybe go elsewhere for a season, see what you like, return here and we find a higher-ranking position for you. Now maybe I shouldn’t say this but I could see you taking over my position Izara,” Linda continues casually.

“S-so you’d like me back for the next season?” I ask surprised.

Linda chuckles, nodding as if it were obvious. “Oh of course! I think after next season we could be talking about a permanent move to the states? If that’s something you’d like?”

I feel dumbfounded, unable to speak, blinking at the older woman stupidly. Get a grip and say something, my gosh. 

“Yes! I would very much like that,” I gasp. Linda smiles and offers me her hand. I reach over and shake it, both our handshakes as firm as each other’s.

“That’s what I like to hear. I’ll make sure you’re part of the team next season myself.”

-

It’s like the crowd is closing in as I thread the ball between my legs. It’s okay though, because we’re leading by 12 points and Olivia Miles has that look on her face that says I’m getting under her skin. Good. 

The tension between us had quickly become a media narrative. Angel Reece and Caitlin Clark all over again. Except I shut that racist shit down real quick. I respected Liv, I did. And I know she respected me. But there was a lot unsaid between us - I felt jealous of her solid start to the season and how quickly she had adapted to the league, she on the other hand was growing resentful over the way my name had become a serious contender for ROTY. It put pressure on her, which was making her lose her composure. It was making every block personal, every foul call, every made three felt like salt in an open wound. And then the game would be over and we’d have to rewatch the clips and answer questions about our ”rivalry” over and over, just building on that underlying frustration even more.

Arike was teaching me that it was okay to get mad and frustrated. That losing my composure wasn’t always a bad thing. But it went against the UConn way, and it felt impossible to let that go. Except today, too much irritation had built inside me turning into a level of drive I hadn’t felt in a while.

Feeling cocky over our lead, I dribble the ball to the arc and merely shoot over Miles. The swat of her hand taps my wrist, alerting the shot. The ball hits the rim. Expectantly I turn to the ref who merely begins jogging the other way.

”Bro what the fuck?” I yell mostly to myself. Arike taps me on the shoulder as she jogs past me - an attempt to ground me and to let it go. But all game this one particular ref had looked the other way, allowed the players - particularly Miles, to hold onto my jersey, flicking her hand all over my face, slapping at my arms from every direction. Not a single whistle. It felt like UConn all over again. Except I didn’t have my patience, and it was starting to get on my nerves.

Groaning and throwing my head back like a petulant child, I run after Miles, guarding her to the best of my ability. Just seeing her face was enough to piss me off. I needed to get a stop. I needed to get this ball from her.

Finding an opportunity, I get the steal. I begin my race to the basket with Olivia at my feet, breathing down my neck. Speeding up, I curve to the right hoping to find someone to pass quickly when Miles bumps into me. Hard.

I don’t know what happens, feeling my body hit the floor followed by my head slamming against the hardwood. My ears ring when Olivia’s body crashes on top of mine, her elbow digging into my ribs. The pain explodes into anger. And it’s enough to make me snap.

Pushing Miles off of me, she quickly gets pulled up by her teammates. I rise just as fast, and in a haze of emotion and pain I charge at Olivia, my chest heaving as I shove her shoulder. It’s as if in slow motion when she turns to me and tries to shove back but her teammates get to her first, holding her back. 

“What the fuck’s your problem?” Liv yells, only making me angrier. The refs run to us, my team suddenly surrounding me and holding me back as I try to shake free. 

“Paige, yo,” Satou tries grounding me but it’s no use. And I hear the shrill of the whistle. And I already know it without even looking up.

“The first technical foul of her career to Paige Bueckers. Certainly won’t be the last as composed and poised of a player as she is.”

“Fucking shit,” I groan again, seeing Chris in the sidelines shaking his head and looking up disapprovingly. Someone’s holding Arike back too, who’s cussing at Miles from behind my back. I taste something metallic in my mouth. I finally notice the throbbing pain in my nose, I wipe it to notice blood that’s been dripping down my nose, to my jaw and neck.

“Bueckers,” Chris yells, waving me over. I’m trembling with anger, mixed with pain and aching all over my body and the stickiness of the sweat dripping all over me. I jog over, not even looking at him. “Get that taken care of,” he mumbles as I walk past, but doesn’t pat me on the shoulder like he usually does. It hurts. Geno being done with you happened on the daily, he was in a constant mode of always disappointed. But Chris? It was rare. And I had let him down. If it just wasn’t for those damn whistles.

I sit down at the end of the bench, watching the girls try to calm down Arike on the court. I probably would’ve found her anger amusing if I wasn’t so pissed off myself. Leaning my head back, I grab the tissues being handed to me, holding them to my nose. Fucking shit. I got a tech. Holy fuck. I got a tech. Me.

A hand reaches to give me a bottle of water from behind me, placing a towel on my shoulder. I’m near to snapping when I recognise the familiar, low but soft voice.

“Hey.”

Turning my head I see Izzie, handing me fresh tissues while collecting the bloody ones for the medical team.

“You a watergirl now?” I ask in a dry voice, though it was becoming harder and harder to maintain my anger, her soothing presence immediately calming me. Iz chuckles.

“Is it broken?” She asks. I immediately shake my head.

“We haven’t checked yet,” a lady from the medical team points out, but I just shake my head.

“It’s fine, can I go back in?”

“We’ll have to check fi-”

“It’s fine. I’ma go back in,” I mumble and stand up - or I’m about to when Izzie sits me back down sternly by my shoulder. Of course I’m stronger than her, but saying no to her was hard. Impossible, even.

“Let them check,” she leans down and whispers into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. Defiantly, I lower the tissue and allow them to check. “Good girl.”

It was all worth letting her win just to hear that.

-

“Go interview her,” Trey pokes my side, pointing at Gabby Williams talking to the press post-game. “Why not?”

I’m more concerned about Paige and her nose, that was indeed not broken but her temper was running high today nevertheless. I kept glancing over my shoulder to make sure she wasn’t getting involved in anything bad or making stupid decisions. 

“Zari,” Trey whispers, shoving me playfully. “Let’s go.”

“What do I ask?” I mumble as the man technically shoves me in her direction.

“I dunno but Linda wanted us to start getting clips of other players too.”

I sigh, searching for any type of angle in my head when we get to the woman. I line up behind the other press nervously, waiting patiently for my turn when Gabby merely turns to me with a coy smile, skipping all the men in front of her waiting to ask questions.

“Hi Gabby, Izara from the Dallas Wings media team,” I introduce myself, Trey filming behind me.

“Hey, I remember seeing you before. You wore those boots last time we played you!” She grins, gazing down at me. “I was gonna come compliment you but I couldn’t find you.”

Oh yeah, the time Paige dragged me into a storage room and fucked me.

I chuckle a little, feeling heat spread to my cheeks at her comment. “Oh, thank you. I just wanted to ask you a question regarding Paige - We all saw the moment between Olivia and Paige in the third, what was your perspective on that exchange?”

“Wow, professional,” she chuckles, looking at the ground before meeting my gaze again. Her eyes are surprisingly intense as Gabby thinks of her answer. “Um, I mean those two have been motivating each other to be better and I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Off the court they’re great friends but sometimes things just get heated in basketball.”

I nod at her answer, never moving my eyes away from her. I always knew she was beautiful but there was something truly breathtaking about her in person. 

“Paige is known for her composure and poise on the court, did it surprise you to see that shift today?” I ask. Gabby just grins and shrugs.

“Not really, I knew it would be coming and one of them would snap at some point. She does have great poise but it’s good to see her letting go of that a little bit. I hope she’s not beating herself up for it,” she answers.

I chuckle a little, thinking of my next question. “What do you think Coach Auriemma is thinking right now?”

Gabby laughs heartily at this. “Honestly, probably just shaking his head and sending Paige some carefully chosen words.”

“Thank you so much,” I smile at the woman.

“I like your accent,” she smiles with a sparkle in her eye, looking me up and down subtly but not subtly enough where I don’t notice, before jogging off. She was flirting with me? She definitely was. Great. Like I needed the day to be more eventful.

Feeling slightly flustered I look around for my girlfriend, hoping she didn’t see. With her temper today, she didn’t need the added stress. As flattering as the flirting was, I was completely Paige’s. Even after the incident.

We hadn’t talked about it, matter of fact I made sure not to bring it up. I was becoming more and more convinced that she didn’t even remember saying those three words. It was a spur of the moment thing. It didn’t mean anything, she didn’t mean what she said. I knew that much. But just in case it wasn’t a one time thing, neither of us had touched the strap ever since those words. Actually we hadn’t really had sex at all ever since. I knew it was just an accident in the heat of the moment. It had to be. Because I didn’t know what I’d do if it wasn’t.

-

“Why don’t we just stay home bro?” I whine, sitting in our cab and staring out the window in my jean shorts and black sports bra, a white button-down thrown carelessly on to cover my arms.

“Because you need to blow off some steam Paige,” Izara scoffs, her nails tapping against the screen of her phone as she edits a TikTok video for the team. “And do not call me bro.”

“But I just wanna stay in,” I continue whining, pulling my pants down just enough for my boxers to peek out, hoping it would drive the woman beside me crazy. But she doesn’t even lift up her gaze. “You haven’t given me attention all day!”

Izzie rolls her eyes, waving me off by her hand. “I’ll give you attention when I’m done with this.”

“Ugh,” I groan dramatically, crossing my arms over my chest. It wasn’t even true. She had been taking care of me for an hour after the game, cooing at my poor achy nose, kissing on it, getting me ice and tissues. But it wasn’t the kind of attention I wanted. I needed her. She wasn’t wrong - I needed to blow off steam. Just not with alcohol. I needed her sitting on my face

It doesn’t help that it’s so hot and humid I want to die, my skin already sticky even though I showered an hour ago. What’s making it worse is she looks gorgeous in a white, skin hugging dress against her golden, glowing skin, natural waves falling down her back. Worst of all it had been over a week since we had sex and it wasn’t like us at all. But I knew I had been acting off, ever since the incident. I had been more distant, scared those words might slip out again, just as naturally as they did when I was buried inside her.

I don’t think she even heard the words, it was overwhelming - the sensations, the groaning, the skin slapping against one another. She probably didn’t hear a word. I’m sure if she had we would’ve had a discussion about it. Izzie loved to talk everything through. And I loved that about her. So I was 98% certain she didn’t hear me.

Still, the fear that she might’ve heard lingered, looming over me like a storm cloud. If she had heard she clearly didn’t want to talk about it or those three words. The idea of that filled me with dread. Because it would mean she didn’t feel the same. That I had become a fool in love who’s with a girl that won’t love me back. Because I did. Love her.

“Okay,” Izzie sighs, putting her phone down and finally meeting my gaze. “Done. Hi baby.”

“Hey,” I murmur back, reaching for her hands.

“How’s your nose?” She asks gently, her thumb stroking my palm.

“Achy,” I pout and blink at Izara. “I think it needs kissies.”

The girl rolls her eyes but with a smile, leans in and places a soft kiss on the bridge of my nose. “Better?” She whispers, fluttering her lashes at me.

“Mm, not yet mama,” I murmur, pulling her back in by the back of her head, guiding the girl to my lips this time. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to turn heated as our mouths clash. My free hand falls down her side to her bare thigh, fingertips digging the skin. Izzie sighs, breathing heavy into my mouth as we pull up to the club, the car stopping.

“I miss you,” I whisper. And she knows exactly what I mean.

“I miss you too,” Iz whimpers, pulling back to look around. “Let’s take care of that when we get home, okay? Just keep it in your pants till then.”

I nod, but it’s hard. Not just because I want her, but because I need her to want me the way I want her. Exhaling heavily, I lean back and dig out my card to pay the driver. Tonight would be torture, having to pretend to be just friends, ignoring the ache between my thighs.

-

The alcohol flowing through my blood is bringing heat to my cheeks, making my cheeks even redder. The club feels sticky, humid and hot. I hold the dirty shirley against my sweaty neck, the condensation dripping down between my breasts. The bottle girls giggle in my ear as they bring in bottles of champagne and buckets of ice to our reserved table, dressed in skintight clothes and micro shorts. I barely notice though, my blue eyes locked on Izara.

She’s sparkling, laughing animatedly as she speaks to Lala on the opposite side of the large table. It was my idea to sit apart from each other, but my God was it hard to remember why right now.

“Yoo, big P!” Trey grins as he scooches to sit next to me, dapping me up. I smile out of politeness, glancing at the man. Big P? Seriously?

“Hey Trey,” I mumble, sipping on the cold drink. “It’s so damn hot,” I complain, fanning myself.

“Tell me ‘bout it,” he agrees, manspreading as wide as I was underneath the table. The smell of his cologne hits my nostrils, already giving me a headache. “The refs today… Man. Unbelievable.”

I chuckle to myself. This might have been the most words he’d ever said to me. Maybe it had always had more to do with me avoiding him than Trey avoiding me. Either way I had a sudden feeling he was after something.

“Yeah, at least the nose isn’t broken so,” I reply, my perfect view of Izzie momentarily disrupted as a bottle girl walks by me with a tray full of shots. The dark haired girl notices the small glasses lining the table, clapping excitedly. I can’t help but laugh, watching her face brightening up the entire club. No one else existed - only her.

“Shots y’all!” She said in a surprisingly American way, reaching over the table to hand one to everyone.

“To Trey,” she smiles, sliding one to the man. “And to Paige.” I meet her green eyes, my heart fluttering at the joyous smile spread across her lips. Our fingers linger as I grab the shot, licking my lips as she leans over the table to get closer to me.

“Thanks,” I mumble softly, causing Izara’s cheeks to redden even more than they already had.

“You’re welcome,” she grins flirtatiously before grabbing one herself.

“Cheers to, uh,” she starts, clearly unsure what she was going to say. But it didn’t freak her out as it usually did, no she was happy to mumble up her words, to mess up a little. “To basketball..?”

Everyone bursts into laughter, Izzie included. I watch as she throws her head back, face twisting as the alcohol makes its way down her throat. Everyone follows, but not me. I can only watch her, toying with the shot glass between my fingertips.

“Goddamn,” Trey mutters beside me. “She sure is fine, huh? You ever notice?” I don’t need to even look at him to know who he’s talking about. Izzie. My Izzie. The Izzie I loved.

Grinding my teeth together a sudden burst of anger sizzles in my veins, trying to take over. 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I murmur angrily, downing the shot to numb my nerves.

Trey keeps watching Izzie in adoration. I wanna strangle him. Instead, I opt for picking at my cuticles. Deep breaths Paige. The taste in my mouth turns metallic as I draw blood from my cheeks that I’m chewing on to calm down.

“High-maintenance for sure but for that face,” he grins, shaking his head as if in disbelief, “that body. She’s a knockout. Worth it.”

Arike, who had been listening to the conversation, grabs my arm before I get the chance to kill him and pulls me with her.

“More drinks Paige,” she doesn’t ask, but commands, making me follow after her. I inhale the cologne free air by the bar, feeling my temper easing up with each exhale.

-

“I would kill for some nic right now,” I groan mostly to myself, thinking back to the nights of being 16 and sneaking out of the house to drink cheap beer and smoke cigarettes at Parliament hill, watching over the entire view of London. Okay, I only did that once, but it was still a fond memory. Cigarettes were my vice, a single glass of wine enough to get me craving one - though I had much more alcohol in me than a glass of wine right now.

I could feel it in the ease I felt, not overthinking my behaviour, not calculating the things I said, the way I looked. But I also felt it in the way my body wanted to be close to Paige. I craved to feel her. I couldn’t wait for later, my core already aching for my girlfriend. But then a sudden dread washes over me. What if she says those words again? Or worse? What if she means them?

“I have a vape on me,” Trey, who had made his way to the seat next to me offers, nodding towards the smoking area. 

I look around the table to look for the familiar blonde, only to find her engaged in discussion with Lou and Satou. She was so weird about Trey, convinced that my friend had something more than honourable intentions. I knew she was just jealous, though.

“Okay, sure,” I smile to the man, following after him. You would think that the slight drop in temperature would’ve been a nice change but the humidity was making up for it, causing sweat droplets to form down my thighs.

“It’s so hot,” I scoff, pushing my natural waves off my sticky face. “I feel like my makeup’s melting off my face.”

“I think you look beautiful,” Trey chuckles, finding a more quiet, desolate spot on the rooftop. “Don’t need all that stuff on your face.”

I want to groan, to roll my eyes. I hated when men gave backhanded compliments like that. “Thanks Trey,” I mumble, finishing my vodka soda. The man pulls out a vape out of his pocket, handing it to my first.

“Ladies first,” he grins, his warm fingertips brushing against mine as I grab it from his hands. I notice the goosebumps forming up his arms, causing the hair to rise. Must be the breeze.

“What a gentleman,” I joke, exhaling the sweet smelling smoke. 

“Always,” Trey says, his voice more serious. “Speaking of being a gentleman, actually…”

I furrow my brows, taking a few more puffs before handing the vape back to Trey. He looks uncharacteristically nervous, downing his drink with shaky hands, looking down at the ground.

“You okay?” I ask, placing a caring hand on his forearm. The man calms down, raising his brown eyes to mine.

“Yeah, just… I mean everyone’s expecting it right?” He says. Expecting what?

Trey reads my confused expression, chuckling awkwardly. “I mean just, I dunno Izzie-”

Izzie? He never called me Izzie? He wasn’t allowed to.

“I’ve been thinking for a long time how to do this,” he mumbles nervously. “Part of me just wanted to dive in and take a chance and do something reckless-”

What the hell is he talking about? Feeling uneasy, I shift on my feet just slightly.

“So I waited for a sign. And you’ve been giving me plenty but I just needed to be a gentleman, and I have been,” he takes a deep breath and entangles his fingers with mine before I can react. “But I’m tired of waiting, Iz,” he exhales shakily.

“It’s been months and I think it’s time we take this to the next level, whatchu say baby?”

Baby? Hold on, what is going on?

“You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever met,” his large hand presses against my jaw, holding it in place. I feel frozen, still utterly, entirely, confused. “I’ve been dying to taste these lips.”

With that, the man begins to lean in. He’s trying to kiss me. Trey is trying to kiss me.

In shock, I pull my hand away and push him off by his shoulder. At the same time, with Arike and Lou at her heels, Paige charges at the man, pushing him harder. I blink stupidly, my drunken brain attempting to follow what is going on. My stomach churns, bubbles forming in my gut, the taste of vodka lingering on my tongue.

Paige is furious, Arike standing between the two. Trey’s eyes are wide, clearly confused. Oh dear God what is Paige doing? She’s causing a scene. She’s making it clear to everyone it wasn’t already clear to. Suddenly I sober up enough to panic, reaching for the blonde.

“Don’t fucking touch her. Did she ask you to touch her? Ion fucking think so,” Paige is shouting at the man over Arike. Fucking shit.

“Paige,” I murmur, pulling on her arm. She doesn’t notice. “Paige!” I yell over her voice. Finally, her blue, livid eyes turn to me. A sudden wave of fear washes over, reminiscent of Jasper. For a second I think they look the same. But Paige’s face quickly softens as she turns to me. 

“I think it’s best we head home buddy,” Arike taps the man on the shoulder, walking him away from us. The people around us have their heads turned, curious about the cause of the screaming fit. I can’t touch her. I shouldn’t. But before I think it further Paige is hugging me, pulling me into her. The others leave us alone on the rooftop.

”I’ma kill him,” Paige murmurs into my ear. ”I fucking knew it. I’m gonna kill him.”

”Paige, calm down please,” I tell the girl, feeling the heaving of her chest against me. The blonde pulls back, her nostrils flared with anger. I need to find a distraction. Now.

”C’mon baby, let’s go dance,” I say, slurring my words. The blonde shakes her head, holding me possessively. 

”C’mon be a good girl,” I coo, pulling her with me by the belt hoops on her shorts. The words work their magic, my girlfriend following behind me. We drunkenly stumble to the dancefloor, finding familiar faces - Lou, Arike and Lala and other members of the Wings staff except Trey nowhere to be found.

”Yoooo, guys c’mere!” Arike yells over the thumping music, waving us over. Finally, a smile on Paige’s face she follows me, pushing through groups of people.

”Thanks man,” Paige says to Arike, leaning in to hug her. Lala grabs my arm to get my attention.

”Everything okay?” She asks maternally, glancing at the blonde behind me.

”Yeah, everything’s okay,” I smile back just wanting to forget about everything. ”I just wanna dance.”

”Ah my baby!” Lala grins, wrapping me into a tight hug and beginning to dance with me, her arms on my waist. I giggle out loud, throwing my head back. 

”Oh keep doin’ that,” Arike chuckles, watching me and Lala dancing, our bodies moving to the beat together. Peaking over my shoulder I find Paige too staring, with that lopsided grin on her face.

”Aight enough,” Paige chuckles and grabs me by my hips harshly, pulling me to her. I could tell the day’s events had made her possessive.

I can give a fuck 'bout no hater long as my bitches love me

The group gasps at the song blasting around the club. I giggle and face Paige. Her hands find their rightful place at my waist, both of us too gone to care about our surroundings, and the entire group too drunk to remind us.

Yeah, fuck with me and get bodied, And all she eat is dick, She's on a strict diet, that's my baby

Paige and I rap the lyrics to each other, wide smiles stretched across our faces as my hands reach around her shoulders. With my inhibitions lowered, I nuzzle my nose into her sticky neck, lips brushing against the salty skin.

With no makeup she a ten, And she the best with that head

Paige’s hand grabs my hair harshly, pulling me face to face with her. No one around us seems to be surprised by the way we were on each other. I guess it had always been obvious to everyone.

She said, "I never wanna make you mad, I just wanna make you proud", I said, "Baby, just make me cum, Then don't make a sound"

I word the lyrics to my girlfriend, my normally catlike eyes round and needy. A sudden overwhelming hunger for her was coming over. It burned my skin, made my throat dry. I needed to taste her on my lips, now. 

Paige feels it too. Her lips hover over mine, low blue eyes locked onto my face. Her hand drags along my dress, from my waist to my hips, all the way down to my ass sending sparks along the way. I whimper into her open mouth, Paige’s hand kneading the skin of my ass. I move my hips with hers, grinding. I feel her everywhere, overwhelmingly so.

She wake up, eat this dick, Call that breakfast in bed, 69, 96

Paige’s lips hover over mine, her hand on my ass pulling me impossibly closer. I’m fully flush against her, the smell of alcohol everywhere and the flashing lights painting us in a rainbow of colours.

I feel her heartbeat, I chest to chest with this bitch

She mouths the words against my lips, and I swear I haven’t ever wanted anyone more. Completely unaware of my surroundings, of everything that wasn’t Paige, I’m about to kiss her when she spins me around by my hips, pulling my back into her front.

Now turn around, face down, I'm arrestin' this bitch

Paige’s hand presses me down just slightly, other hand gripping my hips and pulling me into her. It’s overwhelming, the way she’s grinding her hips into me. I know exactly what she’s thinking about - something involving me and a strap, bent over in front of her.

“Goddamn ma,” Paige hisses as I grind my ass against her. Pulling me up by my hair, I rise and feel the blonde begin to kiss my ear as if no one else exists but us. Her lips glide against my neck and I can’t take it anymore. Turning back around, pull her into a kiss by her chain, our lips colliding passionately. It lights a fire between my thighs, her lips tasting like grenadine and vodka. This is all I could ever want. Maybe that’s what love was always about.

It all happens in a flash. A stranger stumbles pass, makes a comment I don’t hear over the music pounding into my ear. I feel a harsh hand groping my hip, an unwelcome presence pressing into my back. Before I even realise what’s happening, Paige is pushing me aside and throwing a punch at a man I had never seen before in my life. 

“Paige! Bro!” Arike and Lou grab the blonde, but the man is already holding his jaw in pain.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The man screams. “Fucking dyke.”

The group freezes, everyone looking at each other. Before we know it, Paige charges at the man again, now barely being held back by Arike who’s screaming at the man as well. 

“Stop!” I scream, grabbing the blonde’s arm but she shakes me off a little too hard in a drunken haze, making me stumble backwards.

“Paige,” Lala says sternly, grabbing hold of me. I suddenly felt much more sober, my need quickly bursting into anger, frustration and fear. I wasn’t good around angry people. I could feel my limbs turning to jello, my legs trembling. 

“I’m going home,” I simply say, turning to leave the club. Whether Paige follows me or not, I don’t care as I push through the groups of people, leaving the fight behind me. Tears burn my eyes, my hands shaking as I step into the Dallas evening, begging for any relief the evening breeze might give me. It doesn’t.

-

“Paige!” Lala grabs my arm hard, her acrylics scratching my skin. “Zari left!”

Hearing her name pulls me out of my rage. It’s still there, but subsided by the realisation of how I had behaved in front of Izzie of all people. 

“Fucking shit,” I groan, rubbing my face. “I’m so drunk.”

Lou pats my shoulder. “Let’s get you some water.”

“No,” I shake my head. “I gotta go find Iz.”

Without a word of goodbye I leave, begging to God she isn't gone. I curse at the elevator moving way too slowly, forcing me to come face to face with myself in the mirror. My face is red and sweaty, a red spill on my white button up. I pull it off, leaving me in a sports bra and jean shorts.

She’s standing there with her arms crossed, waiting for a cab to arrive. Her bloodshot eyes watch the cars driving by, the slight breeze making her waves dance. 

“Ma,” I approach her carefully. Getting closer I can tell that she’s shaking. “Hey, Iz,” I comfort, reaching to warm her up only to feel the heat on her skin. She’s not cold - she’s scared.

“Don’t,” she pushes my hand away, lower lip trembling. My heart breaks. 

The cab pulls up, the driver standing up to open the door for Izara.

“Lemme ride with you,” I plead, ignoring the funny ache in my chest. 

“No,” Izzie says sternly, sliding into her seat. I grab hold of the door, chasing the girl’s gaze.

“Please Iz. I fucked up. I dunno what’s wrong with me. Just please. I’ll be quiet the whole ride home okay?”

The dark haired girl rubs her bloodshot eyes, shrugging.

“Whatever.”

-

We ride in silence, save for the low hum of 80s music from the front seat. Suddenly, Izzie sniffles beside me. Turning my head, I notice she’s crying. I did that. I made her scared, I fucking made her cry. I loved her and I made her cry.

My eyes burn as I watch her staring out the window, facing away from me. A tear rolls down my cheek. When did everything become so hard? So complicated? Sometimes I thought to myself Izzie was just making it all more difficult than it needed to be. All these secrets and lies were eating us apart. I wanted her to be mine, I wanted to kiss her and not worry about who might be filming, I wanted to take her to events with me and not worry about what everyone might say. I just wanted her. I was sick of being a secret, of keeping us hidden away. Why was the only way I could have her to hide us from the rest of the world? It didn’t seem fair.

We pull up to the apartment building, and I pay in silence. Waiting for her to climb out after me, I stand still wiping the tears from my eyes. Her face is puffy and red from the crying. She’s still refusing to meet my gaze.

“Iz,” I whisper into the night. “Look at me, please.”

“I don’t want to,” she says, her voice shakier than I’d ever heard.

I sigh as we stand on the sidewalk in front of the doors of the building. She’s staring into the ground, shifting her weight on her feet.

“I’m so fucking sorry okay, I am,” I cry out, reaching for her. She flinches. “Izzie, please. I would never, ever hurt you. Please.”

Izara brings her hands to her face, hiding as she cries into her palms. I wanna grab her, to hold her, but even as drunk as I was I knew she needed her space right now. There was however a nagging feeling deep in my abdomen, telling me this wasn’t just about tonight.

“Izzie, just talk to me. You know I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I know,” Iz explodes, finally lowering her hands. Her face is wet with tears, making her skin glisten in the night. “I don’t know what to do.”

I can’t keep it in. Not anymore.

“Yeah, cause this ain’t just about the fight,” I point out. I knew she had heard me. No way she hadn’t. She knew exactly that I had told her I loved her.

“Paige, stop,” she pleads, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Tears spill from my eyes as I realise I was right. I had to phase it. I couldn’t keep it in.

“I love you. Okay? That’s it. I said it. I love you Iz. And maybe to you that’s the worst thing in the world,” I cry out. “But I love you dammit.”

Izzie freezes, her eyes finally meeting my gaze. Terror, confusion, pain.

“No,” she shakes her head. “Not now Paige.”

And I can only watch as she walks in, my heart breaking into a million pieces as I let her go.

-

taglist: @wbbgetsmewetter@thaatdigitaldiary@bueckersfive@lupinqs@sierrale8ne@d3arapril@lovegalor333@avvwritesstufff@rosemariiaa@bueckers22@taylynbueckers44@unadulteratedcyclepaper@rizzlerbuckets@wosolipa@bridgetloveswomen@paiges-1vur@slut4uconnwbb@xxloveralways14@bueckersbitch@janaelalfysblunt@omg-imtumbling@angryflowerwitch@ohbueckers @ohmybueckers @potatobears-world @st4yyyy @wnbawag @maryjanewatsons @naeswrrldd @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @gayflygirl @saverdelrey @xoxosierralane @katemartinsfuturewife

[rieamena]

operation dasher ꩜

doordasher!takuma and cosplayer!reader

word count: 1.1k

riea's comments: i might make this something long running with spontaneous additions so we don't get another full throttle (sorry about that one....)

you order in one evening because all the leftovers were done due to an impromptu visit from your nephews and nieces and with so much to do, you simply didn't feel like cooking anything (or had the time to). you had to finish your makeup, put on the costume, record and edit a video, and the list goes on and on. so yeah, no way you're cooking. yes, your heart did shatter a bit seeing the price but cravings were cravings and cravings need to be satisfied! 

with haste, you started on your to-do list and just when you were finished putting on your outfit, a notification pinged on your phone and the doorbell rang. speed walking to the door, you yelled out a coming! before they could ring it again. unlocking the door, you greeted your dasher. it was a guy who looked about your age, maybe a little older, so you guessed 22 or so, with brown hair peeking out of his black beanie that went with his all black outfit. you two stared at each other for a while, making you wonder what was wrong. until you remembered what part of the to-do list you were on just before you came to the door. 

"oh! s-sorry!" you scrambled to cover yourself with something anything, but to no avail. not even a blanket was near enough. he chuckled, looking you up and down before speaking,

"saiki, right? the character you're dressed up as?" the man in all black handed you the bag after taking a picture of it

"oh, yeah, haha..." you forcibly laughed, embarrassed due to your appearance at the moment (and the fact that your dasher was so...... let's not finish that thought.)

"cool! my little sister cosplays too. for the last con we went to, she cosplayed as sakura kinomoto and she made me sakura's older brother, toya."

you physically felt the air get lighter with his confession, "aww thats cute. does she have any socials where i can see?"

not missing a beat, he navigates to his sister's tiktok account and flips the screen to face you. typing the username in, you found her account and was shocked at how intricate her outfits were

"does she... make this all herself?" you asked, gasping with every scroll

the man wore a proud smile as he recalls the dedication of his sister. "yeah, she spends weeks, usually months, planning and making every little thing for her cosplays. it's tiring but she loves it!"

"my god... this is insane..." it was impossible to think twice when hitting the follow button. she was amazing, like simply incredible

"maybe you'll get to see one of her cosplays in person soon," he smiled, adding a second later,

"and maybe i'll get to see you again."

with that, he winked and jogged back to his car, driving away within seconds, leaving you frozen at your front door

"yeah... maybe."

you stood at the door, still holding the takeout bag in one hand, heart pounding in your chest. what was that? what the hell was that??!?! the thought replayed over and over again in your head as you slowly closed the door behind you. his wink had been so casual, like he did it all the time, but the way it affected you was anything but. not that it affected you though. cause it definitely didn't. like no, there wasn't a flutter in your heart when his eyes glistened and twinkled under the glow of the setting sun. no, you didn't feel anything throb or your knees buckle when you felt his eyes drag across your frame. no, you didn't— just no!

you leaned against the door for a moment, replaying the brief interaction in your head. his sister's cosplays, his smile as he talked about her, and the way he knew who you were cosplaying as without hesitation. it wasn't every day someone recognized saiki on the spot, let alone complimented your look without a hint of awkwardness. and, well, the guy was cute. very cute. society would say he's conventionally attractive but to you… there's just something else about him that makes you wanna— woah. that's too much to get into right now

after a few more moments of contemplation, you finally peeled yourself away from the door and made your way to the kitchen. the takeout container was warm in your hands, a comfort you didn't know you needed after the hectic day you'd had. setting it down on the counter, you opened the bag to reveal your meal, taking in the scent with a content sigh. maybe tonight wasn't so bad after all

as you plated your food and prepared to settle in for the night, your phone buzzed. you picked it up, expecting another reminder about your to-do list, but instead saw a notification from tiktok: [inodaisies] followed you back

your lips curled into a smile. it was his sister. she'd followed you almost immediately. not only that, but there was a new comment under one of her cosplay posts: "hope you two meet at the next con! :)"

you blinked. had he gone and told his sister about you already? the thought made your stomach flip, and not in a bad way. you scrolled through a few more of her videos, impressed yet again by her level of craftsmanship. the girl was seriously talented

and then another thought hit you

maybe you would run into him again. the con scene was big, but it wasn't that big. it was entirely possible your paths could cross if you kept attending. and judging by the way he'd spoken to you, he probably wouldn't mind seeing you either

"get it together," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head with a self-deprecating smile. you weren't the type to get swept up in a random interaction like this, but tonight had definitely thrown you for a loop, and damn you didn't mind it at all. dare i say, you even enjoyed it. oh, you definitely enjoyed it

you unlocked your phone to send a text to your friends. you told them about everything, a small interaction like this could blow up into full scale delusion, and god you needed that right now

my dasher is so hot

—

the girl who i just dashed to was so pretty

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @babysoo-meu

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@mayyhaps @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes @cupcaketeddybehr @tomikixd

@e-dollly @ozdramaqueen @nymphsdomain @beeksyurr @colorcode

@baekhyunsbestie @vorfreudevortex @leuriss @xaithings @corvid007

[alicia-18]

Arrogant Bastard Part Two — CM Punk x Reader Smut

Notes: Wow guys. I didn’t expect the level of love I received on the first part at all. I’ve never felt confident writing smut, despite reading copious amounts and not exactly being a virgin irl 😅 but I agree, part one needed a second part. I hope this suffices. It also needs to be edited, sorry gang.

Warnings; MDNI, 18+, Oral sex (male receiving), Rough Sex (straight P in V action), Punk thinks he’s god, Breeding kink if you squint, Choking kink if you squint, provably very poorly written smut.

If you didn't hate CM Punk before, you sure as hell hated him now. Not only was he self obsessed, difficult to work with and combative, he had ruined your sex life completely. The calm he brought from that earth shattering orgasm lasted for about 4 days. Everyone around the workplace noticed, of course, that you were gliding around rather than stomping. Michelle even had to work extra hard to get a rise out of you, and couldn't until day 3. But then day 5 came and your body was itching for another release. A release you provided but felt more than underwhelming. You tried this for a week, sometimes a couple times a day, but each time left you feeling more and more frustrated. The orgasms you brought yourself just weren't cutting it.

And Punk could see your tension building again, everyone could. You went from being all smiles and fluid movements to tensed muscles and a short temper. He would always be present for your little outbursts, standing to the side and smirking like he could just tell the route of your issues. He was driving you insane, to a point you wanted to maim him. You needed a solution before you were charged with assault.

That solution came when Jeff Hardy's attention seemed to be lingering on you one evening. You and Jeff had always been somewhat friendly, exchanging pleasantries whenever in close vicinity of the other. But that's all it ever got to. Until you both attended an impromptu party various other wrestlers attended, and alcohol seemed to give each of you a confidence boost. It wasn't as if you both fancied each other, or were even looking for something past one night. But you could both appreciate the attractive qualities of the other and went back to his hotel room.

It could have been your shared intoxication, or perhaps the fact your brain — who was slowly but surely becoming your worst enemy — compared every single one of his touches to someone else's. But it just didn't hit the spot you needed. He was great, and it definitely was better than when you got yourself off. But it lacked intensity. He was very giving, unselfish like a lot of partners you have had, but not him. You left his room feeling even more frustrated than when you went in, just because your mind wouldn't get him out of it.

You tried sleeping with Jeff sober a week later, hoping the lack of alcohol in your system would allow your brain to focus on the man currently with you and all the things he was doing right. But it couldn't. It didn't matter if you were sober or not, the fact was Jeff just wasn't Punk. Your body wasn't craving an orgasm, your body was craving the release he gave you. It didn't care that you despised him, or that every word he spoke left a sour taste in your mouth. No. Your body only cared about how addictive his touch on it was. How good he had made you felt when it was begging for it. And forced you to imagine just how good sex with him would be if oral was that good. CM Punk had ruined your entire sex life, and 2 months after the fact, you were so frustrated that you were ready to scream at him.

You had stomped past him after Raw, where you and Michelle had just had a brawl that ended better for her than you. He gave you his classic lopsided smirk, and stared down at you with glittering eyes. "You seem tense." He teased, crossing his arms across his chest. You hated how your thighs clenched as his muscles became more pronounced.

"Fuck you." You spat, murder in your eyes that only added to his amusement. He tutted, tilting his head.

"Not to be repetitive, but it once again seems like it's you who needed to get fucked." He grinned, proud of himself. His ego was so big, you didn't know how it fit into his pea brain. You wanted to punch him. No, you wanted to fuck him. Maybe a bit of both. He could see the conflict in your eyes as you stared back at him, only further inflating his ego.

His eyes swept over your body, not hiding the fact in the slightest, and smiled evilly as your thighs involuntarily rubbed together when his attention directed to them. "You're like a cat in heat." He joked, but let out a surprised grunt as you latched onto his arm and tugged him into the storage closet behind you both. "What are you doing?" He questioned loudly, to which you shushed him just as loud.

You faced him dead on, barely able to see him in the dark and dusty room, it wasn't very big, but was big enough for a shelving unit, a few boxes and enough floor room for about three people if they were stood dead straight. Not perfect, but you didn't want perfect with him. "You're going to fuck me, and you're gonna do it good enough that I never have to ask you again." You demanded rather than asked, in an aggressive whisper that had him chuckling under his breath.

"So you're using me? Not even gonna take me out for dinner first?" He took a minuscule step closer, resulting in you pressed against the door and him looming over you. Your mind screamed profanities towards him, but your body tingled all over with the possibility of him touching you. The walls of your pussy clenched around nothing, begging for something to be there to constrict. Your body was profoundly desperate for the man in front of you, and you would have done literally anything in that moment for a smidge of relief.

"Yes I'm using you. Now how do you work your weird sex magic best? From behind?" You went to turn around, but he caught your forearm in the motion.

"You're serious about this?" He chuckled darkly, his eyes barely visible in the storage closet but the lust was clearly identifiable. You hated yourself for the impatient whine your throat created, and your cheeks burnt. "See, I was nice last time. Didn't ask for anything in return, made you feel so fucking good. So good that now you've turned from a raging bitch to a dripping whore. Maybe I'm not feeling so nice today." He placed his hand on the door handle, as if he would leave. He had no intention of turning you down, not really. He had been patiently waiting for the day you would ask him to ruin you. But he wanted to see just how badly you wanted him too.

"No!" You put your hand over his on the handle and stared up at him with enough desperation that it made you feel sick. "Please Punk, it'll just be once. I've tried sleeping with other people and my body just doesn't want them like it needs you right now." You admitted with embarrassment, hating how you were fuelling his already too large of an ego.

"I think you're gonna have to show me just how badly you want it." He taunted, placing his large hands of your shoulders and putting enough pressure for you to get the memo. You sank to your knees and stared up at him with nothing but lust in your eyes. He wish he had something on him to photograph you with, because despite the lack of light, he had never seen anything so erotic in his life. Your hands were trailing down his stomach and to his belt buckle, fumbling with it to try and release him quickly. "Look at you, you're desperate for it, aren't you?" He gloated, making you roll your eyes and scoff at his jabbing.

He leant down and grasped your jaw, forcing you to look straight at him. "You're sounding ungrateful. Maybe we shouldn't do this if you're gonna be like that." His empty threat made your body act before logic could catch up.

"I'm sorry, please. I need to get you out my mind." You all but begged, feeling rather pathetic from your place on the floor. But any self deprecating thoughts left your mind as he swiftly pulled himself out of his jeans and presented the most delicious cock you had ever seen. It was annoyingly perfect. The perfect length, perfect girth, perfect amount of hair surrounding it for your particular taste. It was mouthwatering.

"Now be a good girl and show me just how badly you need me." He commanded, and you did as he said without argument for the first time. Your tongue swirled around his engorged tip, and a groan left your throat as you got your first taste of him. You had never loved giving head. You didn’t actually know anyone who did. But a primal part of your brain seemed to click into place as you stared up at him and let his length slide down your throat. You hated him, but you wanted to prove to him you were the ‘best in the world’. You wanted him to not be able to get head ever again without seeing your face. With every flick of your tongue and bob of your head, you were overcome with an overwhelming need to pleasure him even better than he had you. Even in these moments, you were trying to one up him. You wanted him to need you just as badly as you needed him.

Punk hadn’t seen such a beautiful sight in his entire life. Despite the thick drool dripping from your chin and onto your thighs that were rubbing together, or the makeup that had smeared under your eyes and around your lips, you looked divine. His hand twisted in your hair, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. He wanted to commit this moment to memory forever. He could listen to the sound of you choking on his length and slurping up every drop of precum on loop for the rest of his life. He really believed nothing in life would look as magnificent as you worshipping his dick.

Without words, he pulled on your hair and made his cock leave your mouth with a loud *pop*. He needed to be deeper in you than your throat would allow, and he needed it now. You already looked thoroughly fucked, with messy hair, glazed eyes, and tear stained cheeks. You didn’t have the time to feel anxious about your appearance, because as soon as your feet were on the floor, he was hooking his muscular arms under your thighs and roughly slamming you against the wall. The precariously stacked shelves next to you shook with the impact, but the sound was overpowered by your surprised squeal when Punk tore your shorts from your body, ripping them in the process.

“Punk—” You tried berating him, but cut yourself off with a sharp inhale as the head of his cock prodded your entrance. You both watched as he pressed slowly into you, your pussy already ready to go without any foreplay, and simultaneously groaned as he bottomed out. Your nails clawed at the skin of his shoulders and back, wordlessly begging for him to absolutely ruin you. He pulled back, until only an inch was still inside you and slammed back in hard enough to draw a loud moan from you.

“You want me to fuck you so good that you never need to come back?” He breathlessly questioned, but repeated his harsh thrust before you could bring any words out your mouth. He pushed you further into the wall, and allowed his body to hold you up so he could remove one hand from your thigh and shoved two fingers into your mouth. You gagged against the invasion, and choked on every moan he dragged out of you. “I’m gonna fuck you so good that no man will ever compare.” He growled, speeding up his movements but not going any softer. He was well and truly ruining you, and it felt better than anything you had ever experienced. You never wanted this feeling to leave, as nothing could enter your mind except the man inside you and just how good he felt. You believed him, well and truly, that nothing and no one will ever compare to the onslaught he was unleashing on you.

He angled his hips slightly, and immediately began bumping against your g spit with every violent snap of his hips. “Oh god!” You whimpered as his fingers slid from your mouth and rested on your neck. He wasn’t pressing down, but just the action had your nerves on fire. Your release was building quickly, the edge getting within reach before you could process what was happening.

“God? I am the only fucking god here. You want to come? Beg to your god.” He didn’t have to ask twice. You clung onto him like your life depended on it, his hand slipping from your throat and to your clit where his fingers ghosted over it.

“Oh god, please make me come! I’m so close, please Punk, please!” You whined pathetically, meeting his thrusts and attempting to bump his fingers against your swollen clit again. As more ‘please’s’ tumbled from your lips, he took mercy on you and swirled around your bundle of nerves. Your climax hit you like a train, fast and unexpectedly. The noises that echoed around the storage closet were ones that had you had never made before, and they began mingling with Punk’s own grunts as your pussy clenched around his dick like a soft, warm vice.

“Tell me you’re on birth control.” He caught your eyes again, and stared you down with his penetrating gaze. You nodded rapidly, moving your hands to fist his top.

“Ruin me. I want you to come so deep inside me that I can never be rid of you.” You watched him as his thrusts became sloppy, and the noises coming from him came out breathier. Just the idea of you never being able to have sex again without remembering the feeling of his seed filling you to the brim dragged him over the edge and had him cursing as he finished. You could feel his hot come shooting deep inside you, drawing more mewls from your throat as he pounded into you until he was sure every single drop of semen had drained from his body and overfilled yours.

Punks sweaty forehead fell to yours softly as you both panted, coming down together. Both of your heads felt hazy, and you were sure your legs would barely be able to support your weight when he put you down. Luckily, you both remained joined together for another minute whilst your heart rates settled and your mind fog began to clear.

He withdrew from you, his semi-hard cock sliding from you and making you both grunt at the loss of contact. You were shocked he put you down as gently as he did considering the physical aggression he just displayed, but he set you down as if you would break. And perhaps you would, considering your legs felt like your bones hand melted. He pushed his hair out of his face before tucking himself back into his pants and did his zip up. Whilst you collected yourself, tour hands rubbing down your face to remove any sweat and remaining drool, he reached into the box sat in the corner and handed you a pair of woman’s sweatpants. They looked about two sizes too big for you, and bright pink, but considering he quite literally ripped your previous bottoms, you accepted them.

An awkward silence settled over you both as you hoisted the sweatpants over your shaking legs and tied them up so they wouldn’t fall down. Now what? You thought, looking up at him uncharacteristically bashfully. “You should go to the bathroom before seeing anyone else. Your makeup is everywhere.” He suggested as if the thought never crossed your mind. You rolled your eyes, and slipped back into your usual back and forth effortlessly.

“Nah, I was gonna walk around like this for everyone to see.” You sarcastically offered, folding your arms over your chest as you looked up at him. You both stared with your usual disdain, but something new twinkled underneath the surface. As the two of you left the dusty and overly warm storage room, parting ways with a few snarky comments, the pair of you knew that something new had sparked between you both. How would either of you go back to before after that? Neither of you would be able to sleep with someone else without thinking back to the quickie in the storage closet. And everytime you both argued, something new tainted the air. An underlying sexual tension that was begging to be relieved.

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Female Reader!

Impromptu smut killing my friends led to this so enjoy me ignoring my WIP list and asks... I am not editing this... It's pure rough draft smut again 😂 I'm being tortured rn to post it lmao...

Alastor x FReader.

CW: P in V sex, lots of talking from Alastor, radio broadcasting. No editing; no beta; we're going in raw, WE DIE LIKE ADAM!

(See male reader version here)

Scream For Me.

Alastor's eyes gleam with excitement as he obliges your request, to act like you're in a broadcast as he fucks you on the control panel.

His voice taking on the smooth, seductive cadence of his radio persona, the radio overlay seamless as he continues to fuck you relentlessly.

"Welcome back to the airwaves, my dear listeners. We have a very special guest in the studio tonight - an exquisite Sinner! Who's been brought to her knees by the Radio Demon himself. She's got a mouthwatering pair of tits, a luscious ass, and a swollen little clit that's just begging to be played with."

He reaches up, tweaking your nipples as he continues to describe your body to his imaginary audience, his voice dripping with sarcasm and lust.

"But the real treat here, folks, is her tight little cunt."

Alastor grunts as he buries himself inside you, his fingers digging into your hips as he picks up the pace, his voice growing more urgent with each passing second.

"She's soaked, practically drowning in her own juices. And the sounds she makes, oh the sounds... They're like music to my ears, a symphony of lust and desire that has me on the edge of sanity."

He leans in, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispers in a low, husky voice.

"You're mine. My personal plaything. And I'm going to make you cum harder than you ever have before, right here on the airwaves for everyone to hear."

You moan, body trembling cunt spasming, as you cling to him desperately while he takes you without mercy.

"I'm going to keep fucking you until you can't take it anymore."

As Alastor continues to narrate your intimate encounter, his words become more explicit and crude, pushing the boundaries of decency and fueling your mutual desire.

"Look at you! You're a mess. Your makeup's smeared, your hair's a tangled mess, and you're covered in sweat and cum. But you're still so fucking beautiful, so incredibly sexy. I can't get enough of you."

His thrusts become more erratic, his movements more aggressive as he approaches his peak, his voice rising in volume and intensity.

"I'm going to fill you up, Princess. I'm going to flood your cunt with my seed, marking you as mine for all eternity."

Alastor's words send a surge of pleasure through you, and you moan loudly, your body writhing under his relentless assault. The thought of being 'broadcasted' to an unknown number of listeners adds a thrill to your encounter, pushing you further into the realm of ecstasy.

"Oh god... yes... I'm yours... I'll do anything for you..." You pant, your voice filled with desire and submission.

Alastor's grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he brings you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. The sensations build within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

"I'm going to cum... Alastor..."

"And those tits... So perfect for playing with while I'm balls deep inside you... Scream for me."

Alastor's words push you over the edge, and you cry out in pleasure as your body convulses in an intense, shattering orgasm. He doesn't stop, though, continuing to pound into you relentlessly as wave after wave of euphoria crashes over you, cunt clenching hard, vision going white with pleasure.

His grip on your hips becomes almost painful, his movements rough and uncontrolled as he chases his own release, driven by the sight and sound of you, the feel of you clenching around him making him make his own delicious sounds.

Finally, with a roar of triumph, he releases his seed deep inside you, filling you up, flooding you.

"And there it is, folks! The sweet sound of this sweet sinners surrender. Her body convulsing, her voice screaming out in ecstasy as I claim her yet again. And now, I'm now painting her insides with my seed, branding her as mine for all eternity."

As Alastor continues to speak into the microphone, his words grow more ragged, more primal, reflecting the intensity of his own climax.

"Feel me, Darling. Feel my cum filling you up, making you mine."

His thrusts become slower, more measured as he savors the sensation of release, his body still convulsing with aftershocks of pleasure.

"That's it, my dear. Take it all. Let every last drop of my seed fill you up, marking you as mine."

As Alastor finally stills, his body spent and satisfied, he leans in to press a tender kiss to your lips, his voice softening as he addresses you directly once more.

"You were amazing, Sweetheart. Truly breathtaking. And remember, no matter where this journey takes us, you will always be mine."

He withdraws from you slowly, his semen trickling from your sated cunt as he moves aside to allow you to rest and recover from your intense encounter. As he does so, he reaches out to gently caress your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust, affection, and pride.

"Thank you, Alastor," you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse from moaning and your body trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction. "It was... incredible."

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth and love radiating from him. For the first time in your life, you truly feel seen, understood, and accepted for who you are, flaws and all.

"I love you," you murmur, the words slipping past your lips without hesitation or fear.

Alastor's smile widens, his eyes sparkling with joy as he leans in to press another kiss to your lips.

"And I love you, Dearest Heart," he whispers against your mouth. "Now and forever."

(unbeknownst to you, he had actually been broadcasting the whole time, not just pretending.)

[queenendless]

🍑 TIME

A/n: The twerk GIFS got to me! All credit for the GIFS involved goes to @screampied for the Gojo and Sukuna ones, @heian-era-housewife for the Shiu Kong one, @mahgyu for the Geto one, and @blkkizzat for the Toji one. THNX U ALL for the glory that is JJK TWERKING~!

🔞 MDNI CONTENT. JJK men twerking for their lives, sub!JJK men x dom!GN!reader, ass cheeks clapping, ass slapping, ass marking, ass eating, ass abuse, cum time, impromptu ass piece. Also first time writing Sukuna and Shiu so go easy on me.

©️ PLEASE DONT PLAGIRIZE, COPY, TRANSLATE, EDIT, REPOST, AND ETC TO MY FAN WORK. Rather like comment reblog share and follow cause I personally want to reach close to 1k follows on this blog by the end of the year pls n thnx.

SYPNOSIS: OH, TWERKING IN YOUR FACE, BIG ASS MISTAKE~

GOJO with his cheeky ass grin growing every passing moment you demanded he strip those skinny pants down. Boxers included. Shameless heathen. Hanging over the bed's edge as you straddle his skinny thighs. You drum those bare melons like your own personal bongos. Granted, your cheeky bastard asked for it. And those loud passionate mewls of his earned him your red hand prints on his rippling hills. Literally chewing on them peaches came right after, your nose poking out of his ass crack while your mouth sucked his asshole, having him come one too many times against the strewn sheets to both your likings. Stroking his veiny coated dong between his lower valleys made it that much more tasty to suck him off, with his cock cumming again in your very grasp.

"Ohhh, honey loves my buns~! Yes you do – AAAAAH~!"

GETO bashfully blushes, his veiny knuckles pressed hard to his mouth to muffle his grunts and moans of painful pleasure as you spanked, clawed and teethed on those supple succulent peaches quite insistently. This cult head laid on his side along the mat covered platform, clawed the sheets with his free hand as his legs spasmed with those poofy ass pants hung off his calves like pooled up velvet. The ministrations your tongue gives drives him mad. Slobbering and slithering into his hole quite deeply with skillful strokes before suckling downwards. Like his pecs, his peaches smothered your face cheeks. Teasingly nipping at his leaky balls had his dong spasm and spurt in your face. You licking his cum off your face right into his had him squirt longer and harder.

"D – Darling~! Don't ever st — stop – AAH~!"

TOJI the physically gifted super human slash sorcerer killer that he lazily splays along the couch on his ripped tum tum, his ass practically jutting out right in your burning face, browsing his phone casually. Only to literally crush it in two with his giant beefy hand. Straddling his hips, you press his form into the cushions, as you knead and massage his chiseled cheeks, digging your nails in, before sucking aggressively to the point where your lip imprints are scattered along his now reddening bruised skin. His hips buckle sporadically right into yours but with such steel restraint not to literally shoot you up into the ceiling. The couch cushions however were torn to shreds as his stream of feral profanity fills the air as does his guttural carnal shouts of fervor.

"FUCK baby~! Starving for me already huh — NGH SHIT~!"

SUKUNA the literal King of Curses would be as amused as he would be resting his head atop two folded arms along his Malevolent Shrine, letting you lay atop him while you smack his cheeks together just to hear his skin clapping. On top of biting, tugging on his skin between your teeth, and nuzzling them fine giant melons had you on Cloud 9. His other two arms would possessively gripped on your hair to tug on now and then as well as fondle and smack your own bare tussy, his mouths popping out of his palms to layer bloody bite marks on you to get even. Raunchily making out with his a-hole had his giant cheeks suffocate your face, nearly passing out in the process from the light headed state you were left in his clapping cheeks freed you just to smack his double dripping dongs in your face to shower you in cum to lick off yourself. Guess he did get excited.

"Oh human~ To think you would react to that so sinfully~ Interesting~"

SHIU the mediator of dealings between the shady and the shadiest should have known you'd be down for a show and what it would entail at the end. The burnt out cig between his lips would fall out. Strewn across his marble work desk, you lounged in his rolling desk chair as you massaged and groped his peaches to loosen up his fatigued state. Leaving deep imprints engrained into mounds blushing in thanks. Too much workload means easily becoming mush in your titilating touch. Rutting within his fist now coated in creamy thickness as it dripped down his work pants pooled around his ankles. Wiping up some cum from his fist to your fingers, wiping it along his crack, to suck it up sloppily, including right up his hole. That got him moaning out passionately.

"Mmm~! Love, please don't let up now~! So GOOD~!"

[bi-panicatthedisco]

Beyond The Screen.

Heartslabyul Part.

[Heya folks! Finally finished it all a few minutes ago, gonna post them all and then go read Caters dream. Basically no editing since I'm tired lolol. Quick note, I have a terrible case of 'the first things I write are shorter than the last' so these are pretty short. Hope they read well haha. Have a great rest of your day, and remember to drink some water!]

One of the last things you would've expected after downloading a game like twisted wonderland, is for the characters to leave the dang game and show up irl! But things rarely go as you expect, and this is something it's nice to be wrong about.

It was a pretty regular day when it happened, just sitting down and playing twst. Only for an impromptu single pull on the banner, turning into SSR particles and a fancy coffin. Of course you're getting excited. But instead of showing your new card, you have the character fall right out of your screen onto the floor in front of you. Oh goodness gracious...

---------------Riddle Rosehearts---------------

Riddle falls rather inelegantly onto the ground at your feet, before standing up quickly and brushing himself off, looking embarrassed and a little flustered.

"Ah, player! Goodness, please forgive my entrance. I hadn't expected the spell to work so... Roughly. I should've caught myself with wind magic. Ahem, it's a pleasure to meet you, truly. I hope I didn't bother you..."

He just practically fell on his face in front of the player!! There might not be a rule about this, but there definitely should be! He makes sure he didn't break anything when he fell, then he seems rather awkward. This was not part of his plan, he'd hoped to make a perfect first impression, then make you tea. Not this!

This is the players home, they stay here... He's only seen it in the background of your screen. ...he's here. Oh goodness, he's in the players home! He'll have to start by getting them some fresh flowers as a gift, then... Well he'll make a in depth plan soon. For now, he just needs to hope the player will accept him. They will, won't they?

-A few months later-

He adjusts well to your home, and your schedule becomes much more organized. And he's trying to help out around the house to pay you back for your hospitality! He might not be very good with the cooking, but he'll try his best! And cleaning is a sinch for him, since he learned a few spells for it when he first started at NRC. He's even gotten lucky and got a job at a flower shop to pay you back for his expenses!

But any talks of him going back to his world are met with a curt dismissal, before quickly asking if you've noticed something new he's done around the house. He doesn't want you to mention him going home, and he doesn't want to think about it. He's here now, why would he ever want to go home and face his mother again? Why would he ever want to leave you?

"...hmph, my world is the least of my concerns right now. You would just go back to your unorganized life again, and I absolutely cannot leave knowing that. In any case, you haven't seemed to have noticed the tea I prepared for us. Shall we have some?"

Please don't tell him to go back, he doesn't want to leave you. You won't order him too, will you?

-------------------Trey Clover-------------------

Trey hadn't been planning on this today, but it's a welcome surprise for him nonetheless. Well... It is after he picks himself off the floor and reorientates himself. Geez, in front of the player and everything. He can only hope this wasn't a disappointing first impression.

"Oh gosh, hey player, sorry for the abrupt entrance haha... I had hoped our first meeting would've been a bit, um, well less like this. But hey, if you've got a kitchen or ingredients, I can maybe make you something?"

And make you something he did! Even if you didn't have the ingredients or the space to make it, he seemingly was able to get everything he needed easily. Like he has a sixth sense for the stuff. And believe me, the dessert he made was perfect! Although he didn't want to accept any compliments, he really did appreciate them.

Of course he strongly insists you brush your teeth afterwards, but hey. That's just Trey for you haha. he's worrying in the inside, wondering if the dessert he made was good enough for the player. But he has faith in his skills, so he can only hope it was enough. And maybe with some luck, they'll let him stay here.

-A few months later-

He quickly becomes a normal part of your life. He will try to earn extra money for you by selling his pastries, but he still saves the best ones for you. And you can't remember the last time you came home to a dirty house since he came here. Yet he still refuses to accept any dang compliments, saying it's the least he could do for you letting him stay there.

Something else he refuses however, is properly talking about him going back to his home. Always managing to redirect your attention somewhere else so you hopefully forget, or at least stop talking so seriously about it... He's always been good at that.

"Hm? Going home? Yeah. That sounds interesting I guess, but I don't have time to think about that right now. I actually have a quiche in the oven, do you want some when it's done? I already set the table, so you can just sit down haha."

He knows he's not the "most interesting" guy out there, but he hopes you won't just leave him behind. You can't...

-----------------Cater Diamond----------------

Cater takes a few moments to get his bearings from the floor, before jumping up and putting on a happy smile, giving you a peace sign. Of course he's panicking on the inside, but he isn't gonna show it if he can help it. Gotta make a perfect first impression with the player!

"Heya player, Cay-Cay here! Hope I didn't scare you too much haha. I've been waiting to meet you for awhile~ we should totally take a picture to commemorate this, hashtag dream come true!"

He pulls his phone out from his pocket, which luckily wasn't broken during his fall. Quickly posing and snapping a pic with you, that bright smile still stuck on his face as he looks the photo over, adding a few filters as he does.

He's very conscious of how he portrays himself to you right now, more than normal. You're the player after all, the player! He trusts you won't just hate him off the bat, but he has to make sure. Maybe he can figure out a way to convince you to let him stay here? I mean, he definitely doesn't wanna leave now that he's gotten his chance!

-a few months later-

Over the last few weeks, Cater has neatly inserted himself into your life. He's just... There, like he should be there. And who are you to turn him away? He's been paying rent with money he earned from running a pretty good social media account, and he's a fun presence around the place. Sometimes dragging you into new (cough cough) couple (cough cough) trends.

But it's all a distraction, something to keep you from remembering he doesn't really belong here. Maybe if he's able to fool himself alongside you, it'll finally be true? Just stop asking about him going home, please...

"Huh? Oh, yeah I mean it was nice back home, but I totes prefer the vibe here haha. Ah, do you really want me gone already? I'm just kidding~ oh hey, seeing you reminded me of a new trend! Wanna try it out?"

Cater has many masks, he'll wear whichever one he needs to keep you from leaving him behind. So just don't leave... Please.

------------------Deuce Spade-----------------

Deuce barely managed to catch himself roughly on the seat next to you, and your leg. He looks so lost and confused, but eventually realizes what he's doing and gets up quickly, a soft blush on his face. He just grabbed the player pretty roughly! Oh geez... There goes his first impressions...

"Gah! I'm really sorry player! Are you hurt? Oh no... I really wanted our first meeting to be perfect, I've thought about it for so long and... Ah, forget I said anything! Um... I'll try and make it better, okay? Can I help in any way?"

He looks so earnest and worried, it's honestly really sweet. But so is the relief on his face when you say you're alright, and he really didn't do anything wrong. But he still insists on making up for it in any way. He can't let his first impressions with the player be horrible.

To be perfectly honest, he's thought about how this meeting would go again and again. It's the sorta dream you put on a pedestal and admire sometimes when you feel bad, not the sort of one that you actually expect to come true. So now that he's finally got his chance, he's gonna prove his worth in every way he can! He just hopes they'll keep him around until he can...

-a few months later-

Deuce tries his hardest to pull his weight around the place, constantly volunteering and helping out when he sees you carrying stuff. And he's learning to cook! So far it's mostly egg recipes, and it's a great start! Just... get used to slightly burnt food for the time being. Plus somehow he also managed to get a part time job at a mechanic shop, buying himself a motorcycle after paying you back for the food and everything else.

Life has become so busy for Deuce, that he often forgets about going home entirely. Of course he really misses his mom, but he knows he'll regret it way more if he ever leaves you behind. He's not trying to dismiss you when you bring it up, he just really wishes you'd forget about it.

"When will I go home? I mean, I dunno... It was a pretty complex spell to get me here, and it'd be hard to replicate. But, does that mean you want me to leave? I swear I'll do my best to be more helpful from now on!"

He knows he may need to leave one day, but he's so scared of you being out of his life. He's already decided that he'll only leave if he can take you with him, and nothing will change that. So please wait for him!

-----------------Ace Trappola------------------

Ace... Well goodness. Not only did he catch himself, but he managed to pose with heart hands as well. This smug boy seemed to have known he was gonna fall, and prepared accordingly. And now he has a smirk on his face as he looks you straight in the eyes.

"Hey player~ looks like I've fallen for you~ pfft- haha just kidding. Kinda. It's good to see you face to face! And y'know, since I put in so much hard work to get here, do you think I'd be able to crash at your place for awhile? You wouldn't say no to me, would you?"

The sheer charming arrogance practically exuding from this scamp, it's endearing in an annoying way. Even when he takes your hand to help himself up with a wink, it's honestly a little infuriating. And believe me, Ace knows this.

But he also knows he can't risk a bad first impression with you either. The player has been there since the beginning, Ace was one of the first folks to meet you through that screen. He'll never say it out loud, but he's been planning how this meeting would go, for a long time. He knows he pulled it off pretty well, but he hopes it's good enough so you'll let him stay with you for a long time.

-a few months later-

Ace wormed his way deep into your life, not wanting to give you a chance to leave him behind. Just look at him! He's such a fun and great guy! He's even gotten a job at a movie theater to pay you back, so why don't you go watch a movie with him later? His treat~ he'll even help you with the chores around the house, and make you (pretty okay) food! Ain't he your favorite?

What's there not to love about him? He's trying so hard, stop asking about him going home. He just wants to stay here, you wouldn't kick him out so heartlessly, right? C'mon, stop asking about it. He's not gonna just leave now that he's finally here with you! Let's just forget about that, please?

"Huh? When am I going back? Ha, didn't think you wanted me gone so soon~ no way am I leaving you by your lonesome, who knows what sorta mess you'd get yourself into without me! Now c'mon, I got us tickets for that movie you were talking about! I'll even buy you snacks~"

Life falls into a regular (but nice) routine, anything to keep you from kicking him out. See player? He's definitely worth keeping around! You wouldn't just throw him out now, would you?

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Fifteen

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Mentions readers period also there's smutty behaviour that gets messy (Billy makes the mess). There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6.3k

A/N : I didn't have time to even attempt to edit this down to something shorter 😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Master List

Chapter Fifteen

After dress shopping with Billy, you came to the very obvious conclusion that you needed some space. You needed time to recalibrate and figure out just what the hell had happened, as well as needing to unpack all the thoughts and urges you’d started to feel in such a relatively short time. 

Once your dress was paid for, you had Billy take you back to the penthouse to grab your things, then you headed home.

For the first time in a while, he didn’t follow you up to your apartment - presumably because he was still a little shaken over the mark he’d left on your shoulder. As much as it killed you to walk away when he was obviously feeling vulnerable, you knew that space was best for both of you.

And, you knew that if you let him follow you to your apartment, you’d want to finish what you’d started, which would not be in anyone’s best interest.

So, you went your separate ways for the rest of the weekend, and you tried to follow your usual routine.

Sunday was spent in the garden at Saint Martin’s, Seb’s head rested on your lap while you read Lord of The Rings to him. You didn’t want to say goodbye to him, but the sunshine and fresh air eventually exhausted him. But it was nice. It was exactly what you needed to help you reset and put everything in perspective.

Your fake relationship with Billy was so you could keep having those moments with your brother. But everything else? That was for you. You were allowed to enjoy it.

You just needed to remember that it wasn’t real.

Even if you felt something for him, Billy felt nothing for you. And that was fine. You lived in different worlds and there was an insurmountable distance between you. But you could be his friend and that was more than enough.

Come Monday morning, you still felt exhausted. 

Billy had sent his driver to pick you up while he was busy across town at an impromptu meeting that threatened to throw his whole schedule out of whack. Normally, it would have bothered you - you didn’t like him making last minute changes to his schedule - but today you were so tired you were glad to be alone in the office.

It was almost lunch time when you felt it, an unexpected cramping ache in your stomach that had you rushing to the bathroom. Your worst suspicions were quickly confirmed; you’d gotten your period two days early. Wonderful.

Fortunately, one of the perks of being the only person besides Billy to use the little seventh floor bathroom was that you already had everything you needed in the cupboard beneath the sink. But, it still put you in a shitty mood.

To make matters worse, Billy was just arriving as you stepped out of the bathroom.

“Hey, how -”

You must have looked worse than you felt because Billy frowned and cut himself off.

“What’s wrong?” He asked instead.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you said with a shake of your head.

It wasn’t enough for Billy, and he watched as you made your way to your desk and sat down, your arms folded over your stomach in an attempt not to double over. You blinked and he was standing over you, fixing you with that demanding stare, wanting to know what was wrong.

“It’s fine,” you said, embarrassment quickly rising in you. “I just got my period.”

“Oh...”

He’d been spared the last one because you hadn’t been staying at the penthouse as often, but now...

“Maybe I should stay at my place this week,” you said. “I’m not going to be much fun to be around...”

Billy shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I want you with me so I can make sure you’re okay.”

It shouldn’t have taken you so off-guard, but the fact that he still wanted you to stay over, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to touch you, had those awkward butterflies filling your stomach. You’d lost count of how many times he’d told you that he liked having you around, but these moments still always managed to surprise you.

“Have you had lunch yet?” Billy asked. You shook your head. “Have you had anything to drink lately?”

There was concern written all over his face, as if you were suffering from something far more serious than just your period. But you knew it was pointless to tell him not to worry; once Billy switched into care-taking mode, there was nothing you could do to stop him.

Again, you shook your head. “I was going to finish these requisitions before going for lunch.”

“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll go with you.”

You thought nothing of it as you nodded; he’d take you across the street to The Bean Grinder, as he’d done dozens of times before. You’d have your usual toasted sandwich and coffee, and he’d probably fuss over you the whole time.

It should have worried you how nice it all sounded.

He vanished into his office and you heard him on the phone, but you were too focused on getting your work done - though the cramps and your growing headache made everything feel so much more difficult.

Still, you managed to finish everything and have your laptop closed by the time the ten minutes he’d given you had expired. Billy smiled, glad that he wasn’t going to have to fight you about going for lunch, but there was no missing his frown as you stood and let him help you pull your jacket on. 

Yeah, he was definitely worried.

You leaned on him a little as you rode the elevator down to the ground floor, feeling a little light-headed, and Billy wound an arm around you as if he was expecting you to collapse at any moment.

While you expected a quick walk across the street, you instead found yourself led to the curb and helped into his car. He barely spoke to the driver, just a muttered thank you for opening the door. Clearly, he already knew where you were going because, once you and Billy were settled, he started the engine and began to drive without instruction.

As Billy reached for your hand, you thought about what was happening - not just him taking you to lunch but the deeper, unspoken thing at play. Slowly but surely, you’d started to notice all the little ways he would take control and it put a lot of things into perspective.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly when you had become the subject of his need for control but, when you looked back, you could see glimmers of it going back as long as you’d known him. It was only more apparent now because of the more sexual component to it, but he’d been gradually asserting a growing dominance over you for the last two months now, and none of it was exactly what you expected.

He always made sure you were hydrated, automatically making you a coffee when you got home, and he always made sure you ate enough, encouraging you to have dessert whenever you wanted it. And he always found ways to calm you down, whether it was talking through whatever was bothering you, or holding you in that possessive way that he did.

And now, because of all that, you weren’t even trying to argue with him about driving you away from the office in the middle of the day. No, you were content to just sit there, safe in the knowledge that, whatever this thing between you was, you were safe in his hands.

Twenty minutes later you were being helped out of the car in front of a chic looking seafood restaurant that wouldn’t have been out of place in some seaside town in Maine. He led you inside and you were both quickly taken to a sheltered patio area at the back of the restaurant with views over the Hudson. 

It was nice. Perhaps a little too nice and maybe a little excessive for a simple lunch, but you tried not to overthink it. As you sat you resigned yourself to not getting back to your desk any time soon.

You weren’t even handed a menu. Billy just rattled off an order to the waitress for both of you, and -

And that felt like a step too far.

You felt an uncomfortable stuttering in your chest, a smothering, suffocating feeling taking hold of you.

In the following seconds after the waitress left, you tried to rationalise it, but he hadn’t even ordered you the same thing and it didn’t seem like it was a set menu. It was one display of his control that you definitely weren’t happy about.

When he looked your way, he instantly noticed the discomfort on your face.

“What?” He asked. He already sounded like he knew he wasn’t going to like what you had to say, and you were sure you caught a flicker of worry flash across his face.

“You ordered for me without asking.”

His reaction was visceral and he damn-near winced when he realised what he’d done.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I -” he sighed.

Billy fell silent, looking uncertain. Out of control.

“Why would you...” you trailed off, not sure how you wanted to finish the question.

“I...” for a few seconds he let the uncomfortable syllable hang in the air, “Salmon’s full of iron and it’s good for you when you’re on your period...”

All you could do was stare, not sure if you wanted to know how a man like Billy knew that. Is that why he’d needed ten minutes in his office; to research foods that might help with your period, and find somewhere to get it?

“I’m sorry,” he said after a few seconds of silence. “I didn’t mean to cross a line, I wasn’t thinking. I wanted to try and help. I just... I want to take care of you...”

Your heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze at what was being said and how it conflicted with every thought in your head reminding you of what this was. You forced yourself to take a breath. He hadn’t been trying to control you, he’d been trying to care for you.

You glanced around the patio and realised that it was just the two of you out there and that made what you needed to say feel a little less daunting.

“I think maybe we need to reevaluate some of our boundaries,” you said softly. 

His throat bobbed and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but he mostly managed to appear calm.

“Boundaries?” He repeated.

“This is... nice and I appreciate you doing this for me but...” you sighed, “you know I don’t like preferential treatment or taking long lunches. And I would’ve at least liked to have been asked before you ordered for me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I know this isn’t what you agreed to.”

“I -” you started and then almost changed your mind, “- I’m not really sure what I agreed to...”

Your words left Billy looking physically unwell, and you instantly hated yourself for it. 

“I’m -” he managed to stop himself from apologising again. 

You decided to stay silent, letting him get his thoughts in order.

Billy let out a soft sigh and slumped a little. “I forget that you’re new to all of this - not that that’s an excuse. It’s my job to make sure you’re happy and comfortable with everything that we do, and I haven’t been doing that as much as I should.”

His job? 

You weren’t sure what that even meant.

“I am happy,” you told him, “but that’s what scares me sometimes...”

“You’re... scared when you’re with me?”

The sudden worry in his voice almost broke you, and panic quickly gripped your chest.

“No - no, that’s not -” you reached across the table, taking his hand between yours and squeezing it tight, “- I don’t mean scared-scared. And I’m - I’m not scared of you. I couldn’t never be scared of you, Billy. You’re not scary. It’s just - I just... I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it, but I...”

You continued to grip his hands as the rushed, half-garbled words left your lips, terrified that he’d pull away. 

Oh, god, had you just ruined everything? Was he going to put an end to it?

(You didn’t want it to end - that was the only thing you were certain of.)

“Breathe,” he said, his eyes full of concern as he stared at you.

You slowly released the breath that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. You felt like your face was on fire, shame and embarrassment burning through your veins. His free hand closed over yours and, suddenly, he was the one holding onto you.

“It’s okay,” he said softly and, with just those two little words, he managed to settle the panic that had started to stir inside you. “Take your time. What scares you?”

You took another slow breath and nervously glanced around, making sure it was still just the two of you.

“It -” your voice came out quite, shy even, “- it scares me how much I like it.”

“Why?” He asked gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“Because when we... when we’re like that, it’s like a switch flips inside of me and everything goes quiet.”

Billy looked confused. “I thought that was what you wanted?

“It is,” you said, dropping your gaze to your hands and his, “but I’m scared I’ll get lost in it. There are so many things that I need to focus on and I feel... I don’t know, selfish for enjoying it too much, especially when we’re out of the penthouse. I feel like I’m ignoring my responsibilities...”

It didn’t make you feel any better to say it aloud. In fact, it made you feel worse. So much of your life had been spent trying to do what was best for Seb, and here you were shirking your responsibilities in favour of your own happiness.

“You are not selfish and you deserve to be happy,” he said firmly, gripping your hand tighter still, ensuring that your full attention was on him. “And you won’t get lost. It’s my job to make sure that you don’t. I know I should’ve explained things better but, like I said, sometimes I forget that you’re so new to this. You’re just so...”

He trailed off as if he wasn’t sure whether he should share the thought with you. And that just made you want to hear it more.

“I’m what?” 

“You’re good at it - you’re a natural.” But, still, he shook his head. “But you’re right, we need boundaries that work for both of us. I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away, it’s just... it’s been a long time since I’ve done this with someone I’m close to, instead of with strangers at the club… and I like having someone to take care of…”

You gave a nod, finally starting to understand him. You’d seen how much better he was lately, how much happier, and it was now impossible not to assume that it was because he’d had you to sate the urges that constantly itched under his skin. Instead of only having a few hours a week where he could be himself, you offered him little moments every day.

You realised too late that you’d stayed quiet for too long and Billy’s face started to visibly pale again.

“If it’s too much for you, I’d understand if you wanted to stop,” he offered, “we could go back to -”

“No,” you were quick to interrupt, terrified that he might want to change things and make them less than what they were. “It’s not too much. It’s not too much if we can talk like this.”

“Okay,” he said, almost sounding relieved. “We can do that - we can always do that. We can talk things through whenever you need to.”

“And, when it comes to things like this, I need you to ask before making decisions for me - or at least tell me that you’re going to.”

Billy nodded, though the moment of relief was short lived. “Do you want to change your order? I can -”

“No,” you shook your head and offered him a smile, “The salmon actually sounds really nice. And... you’re right, I should make an effort to eat something healthy for a change...”

Normally it wasn’t something you had to think about, it was just something that you did. You were used to cooking for yourself; throwing vegetables into your meals and snacking on fruit for dessert. But, with Billy taking you out or ordering in every night you were with him, you found yourself indulging and treating every night as if it was a special occasion.

“That’s probably my fault too,” Billy conceded, “I should have -”

“No,” you interrupted again, uncomfortable with him trying to shoulder the blame for choices you had made. “Don’t do that. You don’t need to take responsibility for every little thing.”

“I want to take care of you,” he said with a cryptic shrug, but before you could ask him to explain it, he continued. “So, does this mean you’re not mad at me?”

He gave you a soft smile, something that seemed almost timid, like he was hoping for the best but still prepared for the worst.

“No, I’m not mad at you, Billy,” you answered with a smile of your own. “I still don’t entirely understand this or you, but I know that you’re not doing any of it to hurt me.”

Again, his hand tightened around yours. “I’d never hurt you.”

And you believed him.

Your hands finally pulled from his when the food arrived. You hadn’t realised just how hungry you were until a plate of salmon, steamed vegetables and rice was placed down in front of you. It was as good as you’d expected, given that Billy always seemed to know the very best places to eat.

While it did little to help your cramping, you felt better once you’d eaten, and Billy seemed to brighten when you managed to clear your plate. You weren’t sure you’d ever really understand what was going on in that head of his or why he cared so much about looking after you, but you were starting to appreciate it, maybe even like it.

You didn’t make it back to your desk on time, but given you’d already had one difficult conversation with Billy, you decided not to mention it. In fact, you didn’t even argue with him when he decided that you should both leave early - he called it a celebration and used finally responding to VDK’s auction invitation as the excuse.

“Grab your laptop, you can work from the penthouse tomorrow,” he said as he was pulling on his jacket.

“Billy, I have my period, not the plague. I can work from the office.”

“I’m not going to be here, so you might as well work from my home office,” Billy shrugged.

You stared at him confused. “What do you mean you’re not going to be here? Your schedule tomorrow is -”

“I had to make some changes. I’ve got an appointment...”

And, just like that, you felt like the rug had been pulled out from beneath your feet.

“What appointment? And why am I only just hearing about it?” You asked, trying to contain some of your frustration. “If you’re not going to be here, I need to rearrange -”

“It’s already taken care of,” Billy said calmly, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Taken care of?” You repeated. “But it’s my job to -”

“I know - but this is a personal appointment, and I didn’t think it was fair to make you rearrange everything so I could do something unrelated to work.”

All you could do was stare at him blankly for a few seconds. You always took care of his schedule. Why had he suddenly decided to do it himself? Didn’t he trust you anymore? Or was it the meeting itself that he didn’t want you to know about?

“What personal appointment?” You asked.

“Just a doctor's appointment, I’ve got an old injury that’s been playing up. I didn’t want to make it your problem.”

You weren’t sure why you were suddenly filled with a strange feeling of dread. Probably because the thought of anything medical inevitably caused you to worry.

“A-are you okay?” You asked, hating the tremor that managed to slip into your voice.

Billy’s expression softened and, before you could blink, he pulled you into his arms. “I’m fine, I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

It was strange how that worked; the number of times you'd been told not to worry about him and that he didn't need you to take care of him. The truth was that you did worry, and you did want to take care of him, but you'd seen the way he tensed and frowned when you tried to, so you settled for wrapping your arms around him and holding him for a few moments.

True to your word, you weren’t fun to be around that night. In fact, you sat on the sofa with Billy for a couple of hours before you found yourself ushered off to bed.

The next day, you were left alone in the penthouse, set up in Billy’s home office with little to do but answer emails and make sure he’d rescheduled all of the day's meetings correctly. It was dull, but you had to admit it was nice to be able to sit around in loose fitting sweatpants and an oversized sweater instead of your usual, more professional office wear.

But the lack of things to do and being left completely alone gave you too much time to think, and you didn’t like the direction that your thoughts started to take.

What if Billy had lied about his appointment? What if it wasn’t a doctor he was seeing but another woman?

He kept telling you that what you were giving him was enough but how could it be? As far as you knew, he hadn’t had sex in weeks and surely that was taking a toll on him. He hadn’t even let you touch him, so clearly he’d been making do with his own hands and -

It was hard to stop the thoughts once they started but, somehow, you managed it.

As much as you wanted to, you didn’t ask Billy about it. Instead you had dinner with him and then had another early night.

The next day was basically rinse and repeat; you worked from home but only because Billy was across town all day, overseeing a training exercise with someone of the Anvil operators.

You felt a little better but not by much. Your periods had always been bad, five whole days of cramps, headaches and exhaustion that you just had to endure, but being at the penthouse and being with Billy seemed to help. It was nice to have someone with you, nice to not be so alone.

So, when he got home that night, you made a concerted effort to sit with him after dinner, ignoring the exhaustion that had you wanting to crawl into bed. He surprised you with a box of chocolate truffles and the pair of you sat in front of the TV watching old cooking shows, just enjoying each other's company.

“Move in with me,” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen almost half an hour before.

It sounded almost like a command and it caused something to spark in the back of your mind, and you very nearly answered okay without even thinking about it.

You blinked and looked at him, lost for words. He’d asked you before, weeks ago, but this was the first time he’d brought it up since.

Billy smiled and reached towards you, lightly tapping his finger on your forehead. “You’re overthinking again.”

Which, of course, you were. The lines between you had become so blurred over the last couple of weeks that you weren’t sure if adding more confusion to the mix was such a good idea.

“This thing we’ve got going - it’s good, it’s working, for both of us,” he continued. “And, besides, you’re here most of the time anyway.”

“I know, I just - I don’t want to be in the way,” you said. “And it’s weird me being here and not contributing...”

“So you’d rather keep wasting money on an apartment you’re barely using?” He asked and, honestly, how dare he try to bring common sense into it. “You’re doing this because you need extra money for your brother, right? Imagine how much you’ll save by not paying rent. Anyway, I don’t need you to contribute. We both know how much I earn. ”

“I know, I just...” you let out a frustrated sigh, not even sure why you were trying so desperately to refuse.

Billy was right, it was a waste of money to keep your apartment and continue paying bills when you were only there a couple of nights a week. You’d save so much by permanently moving into the penthouse.

And, yeah, you’d seen Anvil’s accounts, and you had a fair idea of how much money Billy had. You staying with him was not going to bankrupt him. 

But, you quickly realised, that wasn’t the real issue.

“What happens after... after all of this?” You asked. “If you get the VDK deal, once you don’t need me anymore? I’d have nowhere to go...”

Billy shook his head and quickly took your hand in his. “No matter what happens, I won’t just kick you out. If you ever need to leave, I’ll help you find somewhere new.”

If. He said if you needed to leave, not when.

“But -”

He raised an eyebrow at you and you instantly fell silent.

“This is good for both of us,” he said, giving a gentle tug on your hand, encouraging you to move closer to him. You did as he wanted without thinking about it, abandoning the heating pad you’d had clutched to your stomach for most of the evening. “We balance each other out, little dove. We’re a good team and, even if this arrangement ends, I’ll still want you in my life and, anyway, we could always make another arrangement.”

If. He’d said it again. 

(What did that even mean? What if the arrangement never ended?)

The only thing helping you cling to your sanity was the thought that, yes, it was an arrangement. It wasn’t real. You were just helping him with his urges while you explored your own. But what was wrong with that, really? Nothing. Nothing at all. He was right, it was good and you enjoyed it.

“Let me help you get out of your head,” he said, softly patting his lap.

He didn’t give you a chance to answer or to remind him that you couldn’t do anything because of your period, he just pulled you onto his lap. Heat spread from your cheeks and down your neck as you straddled him - a position you’d never found yourself in before. Your breath caught when you realised he was willingly putting you in a position of power over him.

“Billy, I can’t -”

“I know. Just trust me.”

And you did. You did trust him.

He took hold of your hand and led it to his crotch and -

Oh. Your mouth suddenly went dry as you felt his cock twitch. Finally, he was going to let you touch him.

Instinctively your fingers wrapped around him through the fabric of his sweatpants, getting some rough idea of the size and weight of him. Your thighs trembled against his as you felt him growing harder in your grasp.

“Take it out,” he said, his voice breathy but commanding, demanding you obey.

And, of course, you did.

You reached beneath the waistband and pulled out his cock, mouth falling open at the sight of him; not fully hard but already bigger than expected, long and with the slightest curve. Perfect. Dear god, every inch of the man was perfect. You started to stroke him, feeling him pulse in your hand, and watching with rapt attention as a bead of pre-cum started to form on the tip.

Licking your lips, you ran your thumb over the plush, leaking head and dragged the fluid down his shaft, and watched as more started to leak from him.

“Eyes up here now, little dove,” he commanded.

But you struggled to tear your eyes from his cock until his hand cupped your cheek. His eyes seemed darker when you met his gaze, the only light in them were the sparks that you created every time you moved your hand.

You leaned into his touch, letting out a soft breath as his thumb brushed against your lower lip and slipped into your mouth. Your lips closed around it and you started to suck his thumb, keeping your eyes on his. The familiar haze slowly started to creep in and you quickly started to lose yourself in the moment, still slowly stroking his cock.

“That’s it,” he groaned, slipping his thumb deeper into your mouth, pressing it down against your tongue, “everything’s so much better when you submit to me, isn’t it?”

Submit? The word rang out in your mind.

Yes, you nodded, that was exactly what you were doing. He’d never used the word before, but there was no point denying it. You knew that you were submitting to him, just like you had every time before.

The sparking of arousal in his eyes and the staccato rhythm of his breathing held your attention so fiercely that you barely noticed the hand that was slipping beneath your pyjama top until it was on your breast, squeezing and brushing a thumb against your already achingly stiff nipple.

His touch didn’t linger for long and you almost whined in protest when his hand pulled away, but then he started to unbutton your top. Your hand almost faltered on his cock, the realisation that he’d never seen you topless before flashing through your mind, but you quickly continued when you felt his hand still. You didn’t want to give him any reason to doubt that you wanted this.

You felt the fabric of your top slip down your arms, and you pulled your hand away for the briefest second to let it fall completely.

Billy’s eyes dropped to take in the sight of your exposed chest, and he let out a low rumble, an almost animal sound from the back of his throat.

His hand found your breast again and you let out a soft moan around the thumb in your mouth.

He closed the distance between you, pressing his lips to your neck, trailing kisses down along your shoulder, stopping only momentarily to run his tongue over the fading bruise he’d left on your shoulder the last time his lips had been allowed to explore your skin. Then he sank lower.

Your back arched instinctively, offering yourself up to him, as lips and tongue traversed the swell of your breasts.

A gasp slipped out around his thumb when you felt teeth graze over your nipple before his lips closed around it and he started to suck. You felt his groan vibrate against your skin as he lapped at the taut bud with his tongue. His hand cupped your other breast and what he was doing felt nothing short of an act of worship.

Despite yourself, you started to squirm on his lap, desperately seeking any friction you could find between your bodies. Your hand dropped and you pressed closer, grinding yourself against his cock. The pad in your underwear dulled the sensation, but you could still feel enough - and it didn’t feel wrong or weird like you might have expected. No, if anything, you were too far gone to think about anything but pleasure.

It wasn’t long before he started moving beneath you, his arm winding around your back to lead your movements. 

“That’s it,” you heard him groan against your breast, “take what you need.”

Need - yes, you did need this. You needed everything that he was prepared to give you.

Fingers twisted in the back of his hair, holding him against you, never wanting him to pull away. Your need only seemed to make him bolder, sucking and nipping at tender skin. Instead of pulling back, you pressed closer, not caring if you ended up carrying another mark of his affection on your skin.

It wasn’t long before your movements turned frenzied and you started to chase down your orgasm. Instead of stopping you or holding you back, Billy encouraged it, the shift of his hips beneath you becoming more pronounced. There was something almost rough to it, the way he ground his cock against you, causing an overwhelming friction against your clit. 

If your mind hadn’t been so empty, so lost to anything but carnal pleasure, you might have wondered if this was what sex with him would feel like.

Your whole body shook at your orgasm violently washed over you. His thumb slipped from your lips, allowing your moans to escape you unhindered. Fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze, letting him watch you as you came, and letting you see his dark eyes grow brighter with every desperate sound that spilled from you as he continued to grind against you.

Then, a few seconds later his face contorted and you felt his cock jerk.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

Something warm splattered against your stomach and chest and, without thinking, you reached down to take hold of his cock again, stroking him as he pulsed and throbbed. Billy groaned and held your gaze as you felt more cum hit your exposed skin.

You didn’t look down until he was done and, when you did, your breath caught at the sight. Your stomach and breasts were covered in thick pearlescent ropes of white, and your nipples glistened with his saliva. Your whole body tingled and your mind went completely blank.

The look on Billy’s face could only be described as pride, and that made you feel proud.

“Fuck, little dove,” he said as he cupped your breast, his thumb smearing cum over your nipple. “You’re so perfect.”

Yes. That was what you wanted. You wanted to be perfect for him.

You barely noticed him lifting you and carrying you through the penthouse, too lost in the blissful haze to notice much of anything as he sat you on the counter in his bathroom and ran you a hot bath.

It was a blur as he left you momentarily to slip out of your pj bottoms and panties, and climb into the bath. When he returned he’d found you some clean pyjamas and sanitary products that you might need, as well as a big fluffy bathrobe.

For a time, he knelt beside the tub, making sure you didn’t fall asleep in the water, neither of you saying much, save for him asking if you were okay, and you telling him that you were.

Then he left again, allowing you to get out of the tub and take care of yourself without an audience.

Once you were clean, dry, and dressed in fresh pyjamas, you slipped the bathrobe on and found yourself enveloped in his scent.

You emerged from the bathroom, legs shaking like a baby deer, and Billy scooped you into his arms, carrying you back to the sofa. He set you on his lap, pressed your heating pad to your stomach and handed you a mug of hot chocolate. And, when that was gone, he started to feed you from the unfinished box of chocolate truffles.

His fingers slipped between your lips and you didn’t think twice about licking the melted chocolate from them.

You felt so content and safe in his arms that you easily slipped back into the static haze, letting him take care of you. And, somehow, it felt so much more intimate than anything else you’d done. 

“Move in with me,” he said again, only this time it wasn’t a question, it was a demand. “Let me take care of you.”

“Okay,” you answered without hesitation.

He rewarded you by slipping another truffle between your lips; a reward for your compliance and a display of how well he’d look after you. And you wanted it. You wanted this every single night.

You stayed like that for hours, letting him hold you while you watched some cooking show or another on the TV, but your focus was elsewhere. Your focus was Billy; the possessive way his hand was still pressing the heating pad to your stomach, the little kisses he intermittently pressed to your forehead and neck, and the way his soft bathrobe smelled of him.

You were so relaxed, so happy, that you didn't even realise that your eyes were closing. You snuggled closer and felt his hold on you tighten as your face pressed against his neck.

"Billy..." you murmured sleepily against his skin.

"I'm here," he said softly, "I've got you."

He did. He had you. More than either of you had ever planned for.

As he stood, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. He carried you to the spare room and deposited you in bed, lingering for a few seconds once you were tucked in to tenderly brush a stray strand of hair away from your face.

“Goodnight, little dove.”

A/N : I'm genuinely trying to keep these shorter than they're turning out 😂This fic is already longer than the entirety of Love, Sick Love now 😅. But, at least Billy has finally convinced her to move in with him 😂 so we'll see how that goes for her. I didn't have time to fully edit this because I went to see Thunderbolts* last night so, sorry if I missed any dumb typos

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

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[604to647]

Take It Off (a Strawberry Shortcake Super Bowl drabble)

1K / Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Summary: You host Frankie and the TF boys for The Big Game and are given a choice of which team's jersey to wear.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). Established relationship, nicknames per usual (Shortcake, baby), oral (f!receiving), fingering, wee bit o' dirty talk, one (1) "daddy". Taylor Swift songs.

A/N: I cannot express just how much I do not care about The Big Game 😂, but just like last year, I wrote a Super Bowl drabble while the family watches football 🤗 This is our Strawberry Shortcake couple, but you don't have to read it (all you need to know is that Valentina is Frankie's daughter, Raynor is Reader's son and they're best friends). Apologies for this being barely edited - I'm trying to feign some interest as to what's happening on the field 🤭 Go Sports!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

🎶So take a look what you've done

'Cause baby, now we got bad blood (hey!)🎶

Giggling, hands still soapy, you lean away from the kitchen sink so you can watch the musical performance taking place in your living room. 

Frankie and his friends are watching Superbowl LIX at your house, and Uncles Santi, Will and Benny have been doing an admirable job entertaining two overly excited six-year-olds during the pre-game.  First up: the Puppy Bowl; cute, but the show inspired increasingly desperate, renewed pleas from Valentina for a dog.  When Raynor threw in his own puppy dog eyes to aid his best friend, Frankie, knowing he was in danger, had to hastily switch the channel.  After that came a rousing American football lesson using toys found around your living room – the whole thing almost ended up in a Miller brothers fight when Will’s Lego Elsa quarterback got sacked by Benny’s Beyblade before his Jellycat offensive linemen were set up.

The remedy was an impromptu Taylor Swift concert, with each Delta Force boy headlining his Era of choice - Raynor and Valentina their enthusiastic backup dancers.  Right now, Uncle Santi is in his 1989 era, twirling the kids around your living room with aplomb.

“You’re driving me crazy with that jersey, Shortcake,” growls the dangerous baritone kissing down the back of your neck.

Turning back to the dishes you want to get done before the game, you chuckle. Frankie looks more than adorable, pouting in his team colours, decked out in Chief’s gear – even his usual Standard Oil cap has been replaced by a bright red snapback.  Showing up with a coordinating Santi and Valentina, he brought both you and your son matching jerseys; Raynor donned his happily, eager to match with his best friend.  You on the other hand, are wearing a green Eagles jersey, matching the ones Benny and Will have on; with very little interest in the NFL, and even less loyalty to any particular team – you couldn’t say no to Benny when he held out the Philadelphia gear, pouting about being outnumbered.  The apologetic look you gave Frankie as you slipped into the green top did not prevent him from shooting back a (somewhat) joking look of disgust.

Frankie’s hands grip your hips, tightening over the jersey material as if to change its colours through force; playfully you wiggle back into his hold, “Maybe that’s why I agreed to wear it, Francisco.  So you’d rip it off of me later.”

“You’re trouble, baby.”

As if on cue, Will’s Red Era warble screeches into the kitchen:

🎶I knew you were trouble when you walked in

So, shame on me now🎶

Laughing, Frankie helps you with the dishes, the two of you finish in time to give Will and the kids a well-deserved round of applause as they close out the song, belting 🎶TROUBLE🎶 in canon.

“Going outside to throw the ole pigskin around before the game,” chirps Benny, tossing the football to Santi before scooping up a kid under each arm and heading for your backyard to a chorus of masculine whoops and high pitched first grader squeals and giggles.

“Not you, Trouble,” a hand pulls you back and towards your bedroom.

“Frankie!” you gasp, flushed and squirming when that same hand pushes you onto your bed after locking the door.

“Forget later, you’re gonna take that damn jersey off NOW,” snarls Frankie, dropping unceremoniously to his knees, bear paw hands roughly pulling down your leggings along with your underwear – he helps you kick them off before using those same big mitts to spread you wide.

The last thing you hear before throwing your head back against your mattress in a pleasure-soaked whine is something about how this cunt is the tastiest thing on tonight’s menu.

Frankie slurps and laps at your pussy like a man possessed, as if ravaging your cunt is his own personal contribution to his favourite team’s chances of winning tonight.  You try to muffle your cries of ecstasy as your boyfriend positively feasts, talented tongue dancing and dipping between your folds, face fully buried in his own personal heaven.  When two thick fingers breach your entrance and curl, you’re already closer that you thought possible – panting, you knock the red cap off Frankie’s head and fist his soft brown curls, “Frankie!  Fuck, baby… I’m so close!  Please, I’m so cl-“

The bastard slows down and pulls his mouth away.

Your head snaps up, death glare that could make a pro linebacker quake in his cleats aimed at the man between your legs.

“Say you’ll take off the Eagles jersey…”

“Francisco!!”

“… and wear MY jersey and I’ll let you come, Shortcake.”

Desperate, you nod frantically at the man who’s still sawing his fingers in and out of your cunt at an agonizing slow pace, “Yes, daddy, anything you say.”

“Good girl,” Frankie purrs as he resumes his previous pace, hefty digits thrusting through the glide of your dripping arousal – your body arches as you’re thrown back onto your bed with the force of Frankie’s conquest.  Strong aquiline nose nuzzling your throbbing clit, Frankie chuckles low at your mindless whinnying; he lays a soft, pitying kiss to your crying nub before latching on and sucking. 

You explode.

---

When the kids, Santi, Will and Benny come back in for kick-off, you’re just tipping a Wing Pit bucket of wings onto a plate to add to the spread – now wearing a bright red jersey.

“Awww, no fair,” whines Benny, grabbing a plate to load up, “you changed.”

“Sorry, Ben,” you grin with a happy shrug, “Frankie convinced me.”  Frankie stands right behind you, arm wrapped possessively around your waist, one large hand splayed wide over the bright Chiefs colours you’re now sporting, the other holding a chicken drumette – his BBQ-stained mouth stretched wide with a shit-eating grin.

Will walks by on his way to the pizza boxes, hand coming up to smack Frankie on the head, “Cripes, Fish – you’re such a messy eater.” You nearly drop the bowl of dip you’re holding as you choke at Will’s words and Frankie’s belly shaking laugh of a response, “Can’t help it, menu’s tasty tonight.”

Thank you for reading! If you like stories where Pbois eat out their ladies while professional sports is being played, perhaps you may enjoy Hat Trick Part 2 (The Playoffs) 🏒🤭

[lukolabrainrot]

Toronto and Ireland (Part 2)- Ireland Stops

The Ireland stops were absolutely magic and my favorite of the tour! They were the stops that confirmed to me that this relationship between L/N wasn't just work besties who had a lot of sexual chemistry. This was a relationship with a lot of depth and intimacy, and would (probably) be very serious. I am going to talk about the specific parts during Ireland that led me to this conclusion, because there were just too many things that happened in Dublin/Galway to go over everything (but feel free to send me an Ask if you want me to talk about something in particular during Ireland that I don't cover here). I'm going to say a few of my general thoughts/comments about the Ireland stops first:

I believe that L/N went directly to Ireland from Toronto (please correct me if I am wrong?), and that energy from Toronto spilled over and peaked in Ireland, which resulted in heightened emotions in Ireland. I think their emotions were also heightened because the tour was coming to an end, and it was like a homecoming for N.

I think PART of the reason we saw the type of behavior and body language from L in Ireland is because L knew how meaningful these particular stops were for N, and he was just kind of in awe/inspired/mesmerized by how people were responding to them (but particularly to her).

L/N basically interacted the whole time like they were a FREAKING COUPLE 😅 Like it was BLATANTLY OBVIOUS from their nonverbal cues and how they were talking (imo). I don't think they ACTUALLY were , but it was just VERY interesting considering the energy from Toronto (if that makes sense)🤔

Alright, I am now going to analyze particular parts from the Ireland stops (going to go chronologically):

The Freaking Head Rub (Dublin):

Posting 2 TTs because this was by far the most WTF moment for me on the tour (I have like 6 edits of this clip saved on TT 😂) So let's dive into this gem:

I'm going to start by saying this. THIS 👏 WAS 👏 THE 👏 MOST 👏 OBVIOUS 👏 SLIPUP 👏 ON 👏 THE 👏 TOUR 👏 They got caught. Period. It was obvious this type of intimate behavior is normal for them.

Now the act itself could be written off as just a kind gesture. But below is why it blew up:

1) It was CRAZY intimate. L leaned in (like she does this all the time), he closed his eyes, she gingerly rubbed his forehead (I still don't exactly know what she was getting out of his face--hair, lent, she just wanted to touch her man him, idk? 🙃), the man made a little MOANNN/PURRRR in the middle of the head rub, and then N gently carressed his cheek to signal that he looked good now (again, like she DOES THIS ALL THE TIME). 2) Then the interviewer made an impromptu "Oh" right after he made the soft moan because she was taken aback and was like WTF IS HAPPENING. She tried to correct and make a little joke about the carriage scene (which coincidentally is what they were talking about in that moment) to try and ease the awkwardness of the situation, but the interviewer was totally unprepared for that little moment. 3) L made a little side-eye look at the interviewer after she went "Oh" because he realized he got lost in the moment and how intimate it was, and was like OH S**T. 4) N BLUSHES and shyly laughs (our PR queen who is VERY aware that the public analyzes everything she does) 5) L/N try to laugh it off and say that N does things like THIS to people all the time (but you could tell they were both embarrassed/flustered, especially L, BECAUSE THEY GOT CAUGHT/SLIPPED UP) 6) And they did all of that RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE of one of the interview questions 🙄

L/N tried to come up with a lame-o excuse when they were asked about it during the London premiere, but you could tell that they really had no good explanation, because it just kind of happened and they got caught on camera. The intimacy of this moment goes wayyy beyond work besties, and I think they knew that, and there was obviously no way they were going to go there with that interviewer on the London red carpet (but they also couldn't deny it happened because it's on camera, so L got a little defensive and N came up with that silly response about getting lent off people, which wasn't even what was happening in that moment 🙄🙄).

I have NEVER seen anything quite like this before in the middle of a daytime interview of this nature, and the moment still makes me go WHATTTT JUST HAPPENED. It is THE moment that I decided 100% that L/N's relationship wasn't just friendship. That moment served as a very tiny, candid glimpse of how they are in private, and that's how I knew. Simple as that. "Work besties"... sure Jan 😂

Why they let that level of intimacy slip on camera, we will never know. I feel strongly that it probably had a lot to do with N's guard being wayyy down due to the heightened feelings I previously mentioned, and just that they were HAPPY. I definitely don't think they wanted that on camera though, but I think it speaks VOLUMES N did this publicly. N does have a tendency to be very touchy with people, and she had picked/wiped things off of L before on the tour. But NOTHING like this though. N was sending a message (just my opinion though).

Dublin Red Carpet Event/Screening

Side note before I get to my thoughts. This was my FAVORITE outfit of theirs on the tour🔥❤️ They reminded me of a couple in a Tim Burton movie (ex: Johnny Depp and Winona Rider in Edward Scissorhands). It was just sublime *chef's kiss*

I just loved this red carpet event!! EVERYTHING about it:

The way all the fans were looking so lovingly at how LUKE and NICOLA were interacting with each other

The way L was constantly looking for N when they weren't together (and every time he looked at her (particularly when she wasn't aware) he was just GLOWING AT HER 😍)

The way they checked each other out when they finally came together 🔥

How L kept checking in with N and was so in tune with her because he knew how emotionally overwhelming and meaningful this was for her

How he decided to wear only Irish designers for the Irish stops to honor her (that might not have actually been his choice, but it was really sweet he mentioned it regardless)

How happy he was that this outfit was N's favorite of his on the tour. L cares sooo much about what she thinks about him, no one can tell me otherwise 😍😭

The way you could tell L got upset when that interviewer during the Dublin screening said that comment about N being so "brave" (in relation to her body), and how in awe he was with N's effing amazing response

This red carpet event/screening reaffirmed to me just how much L admires/loves/adores/respects N. Like there is real emotional depth behind his eyes when he looks at her, like she is the moon, the sun, and the stars. Like he just looks and interacts with her like she's his person, his 🦞️ (for the Friends' fans in the group lol). Obviously, some of what we saw during this red carpet event was probably due to the heightened emotions of everything that I mentioned at the beginning of this post. However, L/N were so in tune with each other and just glowing during this event (it was palpable), and it made my heart so happy 😍

Galway/L Meeting N's Family

Galway was just something else. Let's talk first a little bit about some things leading up to Galway:

N and L brought up multiple times in Dublin about how excited they were for L to meet her family (particularly her mom who N is really close to). And this excitement seemed VERY genuine based on their body language and how they were talking about it.

N brought up a few times about how excited her mom was to meet L (I talk a little about that/her mom's thoughts on L in my post here).

I think it was just very telling by how they were talking about this introduction that it was a BIG deal for both of them (and everyone involved). Whyyyy... well because (I believe) they are going to be seeing a LOT more of Luke Newton in the future 😉

So this is how I came to this conclusion. First, these are the main things that really stood out to me from the introduction that signaled to me this was not just someone introducing her work bestie to her family:

Their nonverbal cues on the screening stage signaled to me that there were BIG feelings between L/N about her family being there (I couldn't tell you what feelings exactly, but I would guess it was a mixture of nervousness, excitement, happiness, etc.)

The WAY L was sooooo in tune with her during this screening presentation because he knew how overwhelming this all was for her. And he appeared hyper-aware that her family was there, and it appeared to me from his body language and behavior that he was very self-conscious and trying to make the BEST first impression on her family

The WAY N asked L to come meet her mom. I have like a lot to say about this little moment because I think it speaks VOLUMES. 1) L is kind of distracted talking to some fans, but N is laser focused on her family and not really paying any attention to the fans (I'm sure she was very eager to go greet her mom, but she stayed glued to him (it read as VERY connected body language wise) and she was obviously not going to go until he went with her) 2) She then gently puts her hand on his arm and asked him to come meet her mom 3) He redirected his attention to her and happily said yes 4) He turned back to the fans to say goodbye, and N was already very gently guiding him away towards her mom 5) He and her were a unit in this moment, this introduction was going to happen as a unit 6) This whole interaction just SCREAMED of two people who have an intimate relationship and are very comfortable with each other (again, the nonverbal cues 👀)

She gives her mom a very heartfelt and teary hello, and then her mom holds her arms out like "Luke come here." and N is like oh yeah "Big moment big moment" and L (who has repeatedly said he's not a big fan of hugs) comes over and gives her mom a BIG hug and is just BEAMING. And the whole crowd goes wild lol -> He also tells her mom "Thank you for being so kind (OR making her (N) so kind 😭). I'll see you after. We'll spend some time"'

There is too much to list in regards to the body language of everyone involved in this moment, but it speaks VOLUMES that this was a highly anticipated introduction and a major moment for everyone. I would recommend, if you haven't, going back and looking over how N's brother and SIL react to this introduction, it is PARTICULARLY telling.

And the cherry on top is that when her mom turns away to go back to her seat after the hug, she does this little approving nod to whoever she was sitting by like "Yup, he's a good one. I like him for her." 😭😭

Final thoughts on this introduction/Ireland in general/miscellaneous:

That family introduction was absolutely WILD...Now even if her family had decided not to go to the Galway screening, I am almost certain L would have stayed around that weekend and hung out with her family regardless. Why... Because (like I have mentioned a few times on this blog) I think they know what they have, and I think they legit see a future with each other if they can figure things out. And I think they discussed a lot of this during the tour, which is why we saw what we saw with the introduction. I am almost certain they would not have had the emotions they did to this family introduction if they weren’t serious about being in each other’s lives for the foreseeable future.

Also, this family introduction was personal (for them, not for us–AKA not PR). I think we just got lucky that we got to be a small part of this wholesome/genuine moment because N’s family made the decision to go to the public Galway screening where a bunch of fans would be able to record them. That 100% wasn’t coordinated or calculated by N or the press people.

Now she might have been lying, but I personally believe N when she said in one of those London radio interviews about L/N staying in Galway during the weekend with her family to “recuperate” before the premiere. They both talked in London about how they spent time with her family after the screening, N's BIL tried to get L drunk, N (not so subtly) implying how her mom had VERY positive thoughts on L after meeting him, etc. Again, I think this speaks VOLUMES on where L/N were at emotionally at this point.

If we go on the understanding that N is jaded about romantic relationships and really private about this part of her life, having to navigate all these big new feelings for someone on a public stage was probably INCREDIBLY challenging (for both of them tbh). It was probably made even more complicated by the fact that they HAD to play up the romantic vibes to promote the show, which made people ship them like crazy (which was super easy to do because there are real feelings between them). And I think they didn't quite realize HOW obvious they had been about their feelings, but are in NO way going to go public with these feelings right now (if they are indeed working on their relationship). Why? Because it would destroy their relationship at this point in time. However, I think they gave us SOO many crumbs (Ireland being the most obvious imo) that there is real deep love and attraction for each other. For me, if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's a duck 😉

Here are my final thoughts to tie up my timeline theories on the PR tour. I personally believe the PR tour forced them to address big feelings for each other that they had been avoiding for a while. Their feelings were reciprocated. They physically acted on their feelings at various points of the tour. They had a lot of conversations in private and determined their strong feelings and attraction went past the show and their characters, and determined they wanted to move forward and figure out what their romantic feelings for each other meant. They emotionally became a lot more connected BTS, and I think they were starting to have more conversations about a POTENTIAL serious future with each other. This led to more obvious nonverbal cues that signaled there was more confidence, intimacy, and security between them, and then it culminated in the absolute goldmine that was Ireland. However, the whole situation is quite complicated because of the whole A of it all. I completely acknowledge that she is still in his life, and they are still involved in some sort of capacity. I talked about my thoughts on that though here. Therefore, I feel like they just need time in private to cook and figure everything out away from the spotlight. L/N gave us soooo many clues though on how they were feeling about each other BTS while they were on the PR tour, and if you put them all together, it tells quite the story imo 😉