#(both of them. i thought i was crushing on both of them)

[scarletmika]

The White Witch pt. 2 : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE (coming soon)

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Avenger!Witch!Reader

Summary: Bob knew who the Avengers were, who you were; he grew up watching them save the world time and time again. Now, he was one, but none of that could prepare him for what it would be like to meet you, or the instant connection that seemed to flow between you both.

Warnings: soulmate trope, language, fluff, slight mental illness talk kind of, SPOILERS I guess for Thunderbolts*, feminine description of reader, this is part two of three

Word Count: 3,576 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

Bob Reynolds was going insane, and it was your fault. The worst part? You didn’t even know it.

At least, he wasn’t sure if you knew it.

You had come back to the tower with the rest of his friends, his team, to discuss the lawsuit that Sam Wilson had filed over the name ‘Avengers.’ Bob heard small bits of the long conversation, how you tried to explain that Sam didn’t have a problem with them, he had a problem with Valentina and the government using the name, how keeping ‘The Avengers’ out of the hands of the government was something that Steve Rogers had fought so valiantly for.

That was all Bob was able to gather from the conversation, quickly disappearing into his own bedroom of the tower. And the second his door was shut, he was pacing the floor so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he left legitimate footprints seared into the flooring beneath him.

He knew three things for certain: you were even prettier in person than in photos, you were in town for the next two months for the opening of the exhibition, and since the moment your hands had touched, he could somehow practically feel you in ways he couldn’t describe. Bob decided to tackle each of those things one at a time.

You were pretty, he couldn’t deny that. He knew who you were; he didn’t grow up under a rock, and even drug-induced fugue states couldn’t make him forget who the Avengers were. Did he, maybe, have the tiniest crush on you growing up? Absolutely, but when there was a superhero witch that was your age, saving the world every day, who wouldn’t fall in love? But actually meeting you, seeing you in person, maybe that little crush he’d buried so long ago was creeping back in, especially when he’d stood close enough to you to even see the crackle of magic in your eyes.

Okay, the second thing he knew was probably the biggest problem, but the one he didn’t understand: why could he feel you? It didn’t make any sense, why even now, when he was sequestered in his own room, he could feel it in his bones, in his gut, that you were somewhere else in the tower and you were laughing, a bubble of joy spreading through him. Did you feel this too? Could you feel the anxiety in him that was practically eating him from the inside out?

The final problem was that you were here, and you’d be here for two months. 60 days.

Bob's solution to all three of these problems was simple: ignore you. Steer clear of you around every turn, and he wouldn’t have to deal with these weird feelings coursing through him, or how every time he pictured your face in his head, you only seemed to get prettier (as if that was possible).

“Morning, Bob,”

The plan encountered a small hiccup when, not even twenty-four hours later, Bob was strolling into the kitchen of the tower hours before the rest of the team would, and there you stood. Hair a mess, a worn-out Black Sabbath t-shirt that looked much too big to be yours hanging loosely off your frame, and a soft smile that made his heart flutter on your face as you greeted him.

“Uh, I uh…hi?”

You’d chuckled at his awkwardness, turning back to the coffee machine before you, while Bob still stood frozen in the doorway of the kitchen, ready to bolt if he needed to.

“Thought I was the only person insane enough to be up this early, nice to know that I’m not. Coffee?”

“Uh…s-sure,” Bob answered after a moment, taking cautious steps around the island counter to sit in one of the uncomfortable barstools Valentina had insisted on for the ‘look’ of the room. “What uh…what are you d-doing here?”

His eyes stayed trained on you as you poured a single cup of coffee into one of the mugs from the cabinets. He followed your movements as you pushed it off to the side, pouring another cup before raising your hand above the mug, fingers seeming to dance over the top of the liquid with the faintest hints of white magic seeping from your fingers as the brown color of the coffee inside the cup lightened into a deep tan.

“It was Yelena’s idea. I’m still a public figure, a prominent one at that, so for security reasons it doesn’t make sense for me to stay anywhere else in the city for the time being. While, sadly, under Valentina’s control, this tower is the safest guarded spot in New York. Plus, it was my home first, so staying here just made sense,”

You were standing directly across from him now at the island counter, sliding the first coffee mug you’d poured in his direction, just watching him. Bob watched you too, even as he took the steaming mug in his hands: you were cautious, speaking slowly and deliberately when you looked at him, as if sensing that he was poised to run if he needed to.

Bob took one sip before shutting his eyes in disgust, a shudder running through him. Bitter. Earthy. Disgusting was the word he’d use to describe coffee. Then, you laughed, and Bob felt it in his bones once again.

“Not a fan?” the amusement in your tone was clear as Bob shook his head, a sheepish, tiny grin crossing his face.

“I uh…I don’t actually drink c-coffee,”

You didn’t laugh, only smiled. And Bob watched as your eyes never left him, hand coming up to rest over his mug still in his hands as your fingers danced again, and suddenly the color of the drink he had just decided he hated lightened, matching your own.

“Try it now,” your voice was gentle, nodding toward the mug. “I hate straight black coffee, too. And your roommates are monsters; there wasn’t an ounce of creamer in this fridge, so I had to improvise.”

Bob’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he tried the new drink. Lighter, with a hint of chocolate. A touch of sugar, and what he thought might be honey, too. His smile was involuntary as he nodded his head.

“Okay…that I-I like,”

You laughed once again, and Bob felt it through his whole body once again. The lightness, as if the darkest parts of him were shoved and locked away. Peace.

He knew, then, that his plan was fucked.

You were everywhere. No matter what Bob was doing, you seemed to end up in the same orbit as him, spending your time around him. And when you weren’t? Bob found his way to you. Coffee in the morning became a constant between you both, a comfortable hour and a half together before anyone else woke up. Whenever John and Alexei managed to convince Bob that he should train, you ended up in the room with Yelena, watching him. And without fail, the two men could instantly notice the way that Bob seemed to perk up and try harder when you were watching.

It got easier to accept how pretty you were…and by easier, Bob meant it was just easier for him to ignore the raging blush that coated his cheeks anytime he was in close proximity to you. What didn’t get easier were the feelings. When you smiled and laughed, he could feel it. The two times he saw you leave a meeting room after having a private conversation with Valentina, he could feel it then too: the anger and the resentment.

There was one night when John and Ava were arguing in the middle of the common room after a mission. Loud, insults being thrown left and right, and nothing Bucky, Yelena, or Alexei said was calming them. Bob was off to the side, wringing his hands together, the argument playing out before him feeling all too familiar to those he’d watched of his parents. Then, suddenly, you’d burst out of the elevator, still in the clothes that you had been wearing from your meeting downtown with the mayor that Bob was sure you were still supposed to be in, throwing the two apart with a single flick of your wrist and ordering them to stop in a tone that only an Avenger could carry.

And when Bucky had asked you why you left your meeting, you’d told him you knew something was wrong. And when he asked you how you knew? Bob swore your eyes had darted to him before you spoke: “I…I don’t know. I could just…feel something was wrong.”

That was the first moment Bob thought that maybe, just maybe, you could feel what he felt, just like he could with you.

“It was right here where we sent Loki back to Asgard with Thor. God…I was a child back then, who thought it was a good idea to let me fight a god?”

Bob enjoyed moments like this the most in the few weeks he’d gotten to be around you. The rest of the team had been sent on a mission, and Bob was required to stay behind for this one, per Valentina’s request. Bob was sick of having to hang back, of feeling like a liability, so you’d taken it upon yourself to stay with him for the duration of his team’s time away. He hadn’t even had to ask, you’d simply appeared in his doorway and said you were taking him out.

He knew where he stood with you right now, you didn’t have to say it: the Bethesda Terrace in Central Park. He’d seen the bystander photos in their quick tour of the unopened museum hanging on the wall, commemorating the ‘Battle of New York’ from way back in 2012, a time that felt like a millennium ago. You were stood side by side, leaning against the railing of the terrace and simply people watching those around the fountain, and while part of Bob wanted to feel upset about not being on the mission, your presence calmed him. Being around you felt like that moment he’d shaken your hand for the first time, that wave of calm and peace washing over him, washing away his anxieties.

“A-At least you got to help, to fight,” Bob mumbled, though he knew you could hear him. His eyes stayed trained on this couple sitting together on the edge of the fountain, their hands wrapped around one another and fingers intertwined as she laughed at him as if he were the funniest person she’d ever seen. “I just do dishes. Makes me…makes me f-feel useless.”

There was silence for a moment, just the sound of everyone milling around the area. The screaming children, the laughter of friends, and then suddenly your hand was resting on top of Bob’s, and every ounce of anxiety just seemed to roll off his body without a second thought. He turned to you, and you were watching him with a soft smile.

“You’re not, I promise,” your hand left his, eyes turning back to the fountain, and Bob felt the need to chase after the feeling immediately. “When Fury brought me onto the team, Steve took me under his wing immediately. He became this brother I’d never had before, but with that came protectiveness. I remember when he tried to leave me out of the D.C. incident and I screamed at him that he couldn’t keep me out of it forever, that he couldn’t…he couldn’t make me feel useless, not when I am what I am. Valentina leaves you out of it because she’s a bitch, and trust me I’m itching for a way to knock her off her pedestal. The team does it because they care about you, which is a good thing, but if you have to be honest with them about how you feel.”

Your words took hold of Bob, but so did your voice. Quiet, but certain, words spoken with a level of care that Bob had never had directed toward him until he met Yelena. And then, he felt it: affection, care, kindness. It felt like you, because it was you, and he felt it so deeply in his bones that it ached.

Bob was aware of the eyes that were on you as people walked past you both, the people who recognized you for what you were in their eyes: a hero. His eyes stayed locked on the side of your face, a gentleness in his eyes and an affection toward you that he hadn’t felt before blooming in his own chest, watching as the corner of your lips quirked up just a hint.

“W-Why do you do it? Why do you want to be a hero?”

“Well, at first I wasn’t given a choice, Fury kind of threw me into it,” you’d laughed, turning your head to look at him again as a smile stretched over Bob’s lips at the sound of your laugh. “Remember that friend I mentioned?”

“The one you lost?”

“Yeah, him,” that fondness was back in your voice, but so was the tug of hurt in Bob’s chest that he’d felt the last time you spoke of your friend. “If Steve took me in like a sister, then I took him in like a little brother. Pe- he was so good, so pure. And I’ll never forget what he said once: ‘When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.’ That’s why I continue to do what they did, what my family did. But the real question is, why do you want to be one, Bob?”

“S-So I can do something good,” Bob didn’t have to think about his answer as he looked at you, at the eyes and smile that encouraged him to speak and held a promise of never judging him. “I don’t want to make things worse…I-I want to make them better.”

The conversation ended there, nothing else needing to be said. Then, Bob found himself curled into a corner of the common room couch hours later while you ran around the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, promising to show him a bunch of movies that you adored and used to watch with the Avengers that came before them—promising to tell him stories of the people that used to be your family.

“Alright, I’ve got kettlecorn,” you reappeared next to the couch, smiling down at him and holding both of the bowls in your hands up for him to see. “And the closest that I could get to butter-drenched, movie theater popcorn. Pick your poison.”

“Movie theater,” Bob nodded his head with a grin that you mirrored. “I-If I’m going to get heart disease, might as well get it happily.”

You laughed, and this time Bob was prepared for that feeling in his bones. He welcomed it, the warmth it brought, and it brought another feeling of his own to the surface: affection. That same feeling he’d never felt before, until just hours before, and suddenly, when he looked at you and how pretty you looked in the dim lighting of the common room, Bob’s breath caught as his brain seemed to catch up with his heart.

Oh god, his crush was back in full force.

He watched as you tilted your head for a moment, still not taking the seat beside him on the couch. You only watched him, a slightly curious look on your face, and Bob shifted. That seemed to break you from your trance-like state as you sat beside him, passing him the popcorn bowl he requested as you kept the other.

But when your hand grabbed the remote, prepared to press play on the first Rocky movie, you stopped. You hesitated. Then, you put the remote back down before you spoke.

“You know…I can feel it, too,”

Bob paused, frozen in place, as you turned to look at him. He opened his mouth, prepared to find a way to talk around the topic, to pretend like he didn’t know what you were talking about, but there was no ignoring it now.

“You…you do?” his voice was a whisper, anxiety dripping off his words. You laughed again, and when Bob felt it this time, he could also feel the bits of anxiety laced through your laugh.

“Yeah, since the moment I shook your hand,” you fully turned to face him now, a perfect mirror of one another. Backs pressed to opposite ends of the couch, legs tucked under your bodies, and nervous, tiny smiles etched to your lips. “And I…I think I know what it is. I didn’t for a while, but then I called some friends.”

“Friends?”

“There’s not much that the Masters of the Mystic Arts don’t know,” you’d tried to joke, getting a breathy laugh out of Bob. “What he explained to me was…ancient. Rare. Something only seen twice in history, but both times it had been with witches. The French were the first to document it…they dubbed it an âme sœur.”

“A-An…an âme-?”

“When the Big Bang occurred, when the universe was created, it created the Infinity Stones. But it created more than that,” you’d cut in, voice speaking so quickly that Bob could pick up the nerves laced throughout your explanation. “Many races in the universe, most notably humans, believed that each of us was born of the stars, that a piece of the universe lives in each of us. And when the universe was born, those stars were scattered, which placed us where we are now. But, in rare instances, those stars would split. They could be hurled galaxies apart, on different planets within the same solar system, or just miles apart. But, subconsciously, they’d find one another again. They’d…they’d complete one another. That these two people were so intune with one another that they could…they could feel one another. The two witches before me, they could feel their other halves…that’s how they found their âme sœurs…their soulmates.”

Bob’s breath caught, eyes transfixed on the way you bit into your bottom lip, more anxious than he’d ever seen before.

“S-Soulmate?”

“It can mean a lot of things,” you’d laughed lightly. “The first pair? They were best friends, and they remained that way forever. The other two…they were friends first, until it became more. Until they fell in love. It’s essentially just someone who’s meant to be in your life, someone destined to walk your path with you. Friends or lovers…that’s for them to decide.”

Friends or lovers. The next question was tumbling through Bob’s lips and out into the world before he could overthink and stop himself.

“T-Then…what are we?”

That question hung heavy in the air between you both. Bob watched you open your mouth to speak, before shutting it, repeating that action time and time again as you tried to find the right words to say.

“I think that means…we’re whatever we decide we’re going to be,”

Those words settled in Bob, and a wave of calm seemed to envelop the room around you both, as if having your destiny spoken out loud put everything into perspective finally. And all he could do was look at you with a look of absolute wonder written across his features.

Before he could speak, the elevators opened.

“AH, OUR BEAUTIFUL HOME! It is so good to be back, my friends! I say we get matchy-matchy in our tracksuits and spend this evening enjoying each other’s company, maybe with a fresh pot of hot cocoa,”

“Hot cocoa? Jesus, you sound more like Santa every day-”

“And how could you miss this place? We only left for the mission this morning?”

You’d gotten off the couch to greet the others, the moment between you both shattered. But Bob’s gaze never left your figure, even as you moved about the room. And when that bloom of affection found its way back into his chest, it had changed: desire, the need to hold you, the need to worship you, the need to taste you and claim you as his in a way he’d never felt before. And by the glance you threw over your shoulder to him, he knew you could feel it, too.

Fuck, this wasn’t just a crush.

So, when Bucky Barnes threw open his door at 2:36 in the morning to a dissheveled Bob Reynolds who looked like he’d just run several marathons, he already knew it wasn’t going to be good.

“Bob-?”

“I-I think…I think I’m in love with her. L-Like, I think we’re destined to uh, to be in love. Like, even if I didn’t want to be I-I wouldn’t have a choice, like I’m meant to love her. Well, not entirely, we can kind of d-decide if we’re going to be. But it doesn’t feel like a choice, i-it feels like I’m meant to. But even if it wasn’t destined I-I think I’d still fall in love with her because she’s so pretty a-and nice and she treats me like me, and…yeah. Yeah, I’m…I’m in love with her,”

Bob took a deep breath, having ranted to the man before him without taking in a single breath of air. There was a beat of silence, and then a sigh from the super soldier standing in the doorway.

“Well, destiny or whatever this is aside, did you tell her all of this?”

“...no?”

Another sigh. “...god damnit, Bob,”

TAGLIST: @cypherpt5fttaehyung @dark-silhouette @greenbean-4ever @qardasngan @one17 @nutellajade @etheralponygirl @spencerreidswifexd @alexwinchester23 @am1525 @artistadistrada2002

[cheftsunoda]

hiiii i love your works, especially your poly ones! i don’t really know your guidelines but i cannot get this idea out of my head! could you do a poly fic with alex and charles where reader is a performer at the f175? it could have inspiration from any singer you’d like (though i think tate mcrae would work WONDERS) thank you!!!!

taste — cl16 + alexandra saint mleux

smau + blurbs

charles leclerc x!singer reader x alexandra saint mleux

yn is skeptical when asked to perform at the f175 event— she doesn’t know much about f1, she feels like her songs are maybe a little too much for a classy event. however, after much convincing from her manager and her assistant she agrees— which would be the best move she’s ever made.

fc : sabrina carpenter

(a/n) : hi anonnn! thank u for the love and support. i almost picked tate and then i could not shake the idea i got so— i had to pick sabrina:) i hope you enjoy cutie pieee🩷

also two posts in one day?? who am i? being productive for once:)

—

yourstruly_yn

london, england 📍

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, lando & 5,109,004 others.

yourstruly_yn : lets hear a little commotion for the dress 🗣️ but in all seriousness i had so much fun at the F175 event last night— thank you @/f1 for having me and i hope no one noticed how sweaty and nervous i was around all the attractive people! YAYYYYYYYY

—

view 290,021 other comments.

username0 : she is so real for that caption

↳ username10 : she kills me bc she is also hot as hell like girl— they probably have a crush on you too

↳ lando : we do

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ username0 : aadsjsf lando

username15 : yn!! who was your favorite??

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ yourstruly_yn : they were all incredibly kind but charles and carlos are incredibly charming…

liked by charles_leclerc and carlossainz55

oscarpiastri : i think my girlfriend got more excited to meet you than she ever was about me

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ yourstruly_yn : she is the cutest on the planet🤍 nice to meet you both!

liked by oscarpiastri and lilyzneimer

↳ lilyzneimer : omg i love you yn

↳ yourstruly_yn : love you moreeeee

lando : if you think you were nervous— you should’ve seen ollie ten seconds after you gave him a hug. he wouldn’t move.

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ olliebearman : lando i stg

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ lando : you’re his celebrity crush 🤐

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ olliebearman : i am literally gonna slash your tires. im embarrassed.

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ yourstruly_yn : don’t be embarrassed cutie pie. if it helps i couldn’t tell you were nervous hehe

liked by olliebearman

↳ kimi.antonelli : you broke him. he is smiling and wont blink

liked by yourstruly_yn and lando

carlossainz55 : tan hermosa, mi amor💙 blue means you are a williams fan, no?

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ yourstruly_yn : i like whichever team invites me to the paddock first

↳ scuderiaferrari : HEYYYY YNNNN

↳ williamsracing : guaranteed she’s a williams fan!

↳ redbullracing : blue means REDBULLLLLL

↳ mercedesamgf1 : YN PLS WE R BEGGING

↳ alpinef1team : come with us yn PLEASEEEEE

↳ yourstruly_yn : ferrari it is then ❤️💛

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ lando : someone fire the mclaren admin. r you even working???

↳ mclaren : i have feelings yanno?

alexandrasaintmleux : you are absolutely stunning and such a great performer! loved meeting you 🤍

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ yourstruly_yn : omg says you. you are literally so beautiful. i was nervous to talk to YOU.

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

maxverstappen1 : you managed to make this event that i did not want to attend— tolerable— and i thank you for that:)

liked by yourstruly_yn

charles_leclerc : incroyable😻🤍

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ username15 : OMGGGGGG

username22 : did anyone see how alex and charles looked at her?? the camera kept panning over to them during her performance

↳ username14 : yes omg i thought it was just me

—

The second my heels hit the red carpet, I felt my soul leave my body. The flashes were relentless, fans were screaming my name, and somewhere behind me, my assistant—Jules—was whispering “Posture, babe! Chin up! Shoulders back! Breathe!” like I wasn’t already trying not to pass out from the nerves. I tugged my dress down slightly—custom, couture, and tight—and smiled for the cameras, praying they couldn’t see how badly my palms were sweating.

“You’re good,” Jules whispered, stepping just behind me, clipboard and chaos in tow. “You look like a goddess. You sound like a legend. And every single man in a race suit just turned to stare.”

I laughed under my breath and turned my head slowly. Sure enough. A wall of F1 drivers stood just a few steps ahead—all of them in slick tuxes. And every. Single. One. of them was watching me like I was the main event. God help me.

Charles Leclerc, standing with his girlfriend Alexandra, gave me a soft smile. One of those movie-star ones, with the head tilt. Smooth. Alexandra gave me a subtle once-over, biting her lip and nodding slightly like she approved.

Lando Norris nudged Oscar Piastri and whispered something, and Oscar blinked twice like he’d forgotten how conversation worked. I gave them a little wave and watched as Oscar physically recoiled in shyness while Lando just grinned and mouthed, “Hi.”

Pierre Gasly winked. Subtle like a sledgehammer. And then—

“Hi. Um. Hi.”

I turned and found Ollie Bearman. Sweet baby Ollie. Standing just off to the side with wide eyes and flushed cheeks like I’d personally descended from the heavens.

My assistant whispered, “That’s the one who listed you as his celebrity crush on a podcast.”

Oh my god. He’s even cuter in person. I stepped toward him slowly, letting the cameras click away, and smiled wide.

“Hi, Ollie, right?” I asked softly. “I heard I might be your celebrity crush.”

His whole face went scarlet.

“Uh—I mean—yeah! Yeah, I mean—wow, this is so weird, I didn’t think you’d, like, actually know—oh god,” he rambled.

I couldn’t help it—I opened my arms. “C’mere, then.”

He blinked. “Wait—like—a hug? Right now? In front of—everyone?”

“Unless you don’t want one?”

“I DO,” he said way too fast, stepping forward like his feet were moving on autopilot.

I gave him a gentle hug, careful not to crush the front of my dress, and felt his heart pounding through his suit. When we pulled back, he looked like he might cry or combust.

“You’re doing great,” I whispered with a wink. “Can’t wait to watch your rookie season.”

He made a choked noise that might’ve been a thank you—or possibly a prayer.

And somewhere behind me, I swear I heard Jules mutter, “You just made that poor boy’s year.”

As we walked into the venue, I could still feel the heat of all those driver stares and Ollie’s stunned silence behind me.

I leaned toward Jules. “Okay but what is in the water at Ferrari? Because damn.”

—

“Okay,” Jules said, sticking a protein bar into my hand. “You’ve got fifteen minutes before you go out, your dress is still flawless, and I bribed hair and makeup with champagne to stay on standby. Now come stress-stalk the hot ones with me.”

I took a bite of the bar and followed her to the side curtain. We peeked out like two teenage girls spying on the cool kids at prom. Except the cool kids were all F1 drivers. And actual gods.

“I mean,” Jules whispered, “look at them. It’s like the Avengers of being sexy and emotionally unavailable.”

She pointed with the subtlety of a brick wall. “There’s George Russell looking like a romance villain. Carlos is definitely flirting with that engineer. Lando’s doing finger guns. Why is he always doing finger guns?”

I choked on my protein bar. “Because he is Lando.”

Then Jules nudged me. “And look. Center of the room. Ferrari. Your favorite brand of thirst.”

I leaned in and—yep. There they were. Charles, glass in hand, relaxed and charming as ever, laughing at something Lewis said. And next to him, Alexandra in a floor-length black gown that looked like liquid obsidian, eyes scanning the room like she was bored of everyone. God help me, I had a problem.

“Okay,” I whispered. “You know how I said I had a tiny crush on Charles?”

Jules gave me side-eye. “Yes. You also said you’d let him ruin you.”

“Well,” I said, dragging the word out, “I might… also have a thing for Alexandra. Like. A very serious thing.”

Jules blinked. “So… double Ferrari crush?”

“I’m panicking.”

“Don’t panic. Just flirt back. They’re both clearly into you.”

“No, they’re not—”

I froze mid-sentence. Alexandra had turned. She was looking right at us through the curtain. Like she knew. Her eyes met mine, and for a second I thought she might wave or say something—Instead, she smirked and winked.

“Oh my god,” I whispered.

Jules lost it beside me, half-screaming into her sleeve. “SHE WINKED. YN. SHE WINKED. THAT WAS SEXUAL.”

“I think I blacked out for a second,” I muttered. “Was that real? Did that just happen?”

“Do you want me to slap you or get you water?”

“Neither. Just bury me in this curtain.”

We both ducked back behind the fabric, clutching each other like we’d seen a ghost. A hot, model-tier, vaguely intimidating ghost who might be flirting with me in front of her F1 driver boyfriend.

I blinked slowly. “I’m going to combust on stage. If I pass out mid-song, tell the crowd it was from artistic overwhelm.”

Jules just grinned. “You’re about to have both a Ferrari driver and his impossibly hot girlfriend wrapped around your finger. Honestly? Diva behavior. Proud of you.”

—

The lights dimmed, and the crowd quieted like someone had flipped a switch. One golden spotlight bloomed at center stage. I stepped into it slowly, heels silent on the slick black floor, the slit in my gown cutting dangerously high, the corset cinched just enough. The strings swelled, slow and seductive. The first lyric left my lips like a whisper laced with smoke. I let the silence hang between each word—like a dare. I wasn’t rushing tonight. No big notes. No high belts. Just something slow, smooth, sultry. Velvet draped in starlight. The kind of performance you don’t just watch—you feel. I found them in the crowd within seconds.

Charles.

Back straight. Head tilted. Watching me like he was trying to memorize the lines of my body, the way my hand slid slowly down my hip, the exact pitch of my voice when I purred through the second chorus. He looked dazed. Like I was singing directly into his bloodstream. And Alexandra?

God. She was absolutely still—spine like a string of pearls, lips parted ever so slightly, eyes locked on mine. No smile. Just hunger. It wasn’t even subtle. Her gaze was heavy, almost possessive, like she was deciding how I’d taste.

I sang the bridge soft and breathy, leaning into the mic like it was a secret. I let the hem of my gown fall back just enough to reveal the shimmer of my leg, and Alexandra’s fingers twitched around her champagne glass.

I saw her lean over. Whisper something to Charles. He smirked. He didn’t look away from me when he did it. When the final note hit—drawn out and decadent—the lights dropped. Silence. Then an eruption. Applause. Cheering. The kind that shakes the floor and rings in your ribs. I exhaled for the first time in three minutes. Backstage, Jules was waiting with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“You witch,” she breathed. “I just watched Charles Leclerc forget how to breathe. And Alexandra? Babe. She looked like she wanted to eat you alive.”

I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to slow my heartbeat. “So… it went okay?”

Jules laughed. “They’re both going to find you before this night’s over. And I’m betting you’re not going home alone.”

I sighed and took a drink of water and started to get changed into my evening gown. Hair and makeup came in to touch me up. I stood up, checking myself in the mirror and smiled.

Jules nudged me. “Go be charming. Make the rounds. Let the world bask in the glow of your slay.”

So I did. Smile on, perfume lingering behind me like a trail of sin, I moved from driver to driver like it was a party game.

George kissed my hand and told me I “redefined elegance.” Lando was sweet talking me as he tried to get me to sit in his lap. Oscar blushed so hard I thought someone should check his temperature.

But it was Ollie who melted my entire heart. He nearly knocked over his glass trying to stand up straight. “Hi. You—uh. I mean. That was—like—wow. You’re…”

I smiled and opened my arms, and he just melted into a hug like a starstruck golden retriever.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “You’re very sweet.”

When I pulled back, he was blinking fast, cheeks flushed pink, like he couldn’t decide whether to pass out or propose. Jules was already filming. But then—then—I turned and saw them.

Charles and Alexandra. Still together. Still impossibly composed. Still looking at me like I was the most fascinating thing in the room. I smoothed my gown even though it didn’t need smoothing and took a slow breath before making my way over.

“Hello,” I said, somehow keeping my voice light despite the fact that my soul had already left my body.

“Bonsoir,” Charles echoed, eyes raking over me in that maddeningly slow way. “You were…” He exhaled. “Incredible.”

“She knows,” Alexandra said, her voice soft and low, like silk drawn across bare skin. “She had every man in the room losing his mind.”

I blinked. “I was just… singing.”

Charles tilted his head. “That was not just singing.”

And Alexandra? She leaned in a little, close enough that I could smell her perfume—jasmine and something warmer, richer. “I think you know exactly what you were doing.”

I laughed—nervously, stupidly. “Are you flirting with me?”

Alexandra smiled. Slow. Dangerous. “Do you want me to be?”

My brain short-circuited. “I—”

Charles stepped in, just a little, voice low and amused. “You look like you might need another drink.”

“I need a tranquilizer.” I muttered under my breath.

Alexandra’s eyes sparkled. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m—” I touched my cheek. Burning.

She grinned. “Blushing. And glowing. It’s a very good look.”

Charles offered me a glass of champagne. “For recovery.”

I took it. My fingers brushed his. I didn’t recover.

—

I was mid-sip of champagne, trying to cool down both physically and emotionally, when I felt a soft hand brush against mine. Not urgent. But deliberate. Alexandra. She leaned in like she was about to whisper something, her breath tickling just beneath my ear.

“Come with me for a second?”

Not a question. A gentle command wrapped in silk. I didn’t even think—I just nodded. She slid her hand down to my wrist and guided me through the edge of the ballroom, past glittering gowns and conversations I couldn’t hear, until we slipped into a quiet hallway behind the venue. Dim lights. Velvet-lined walls. The faint hum of the music muted behind gold-trimmed doors. And then she stopped. Turned. Faced me.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” she said, eyes trailing down my figure like I wasn’t real.

I swallowed. “I’m just a pop star with stage fright.”

She laughed—low, rich. “No, you’re a woman who walked onstage and hypnotized a room full of people… including my boyfriend.”

My breath hitched. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, I’m not upset.” She stepped closer. “He hasn’t looked at someone like that in a long time. But neither have I.”

I blinked. “Alexandra…”

“I’m not trying to scare you,” she said, voice softening. “I just wanted a moment. With you. Away from the cameras. Away from Charles, even.”

That surprised me.

“You did something to me up there,” Alexandra said, eyes burning into mine. “The way you moved. Sang. Looked at us. Like you knew we were watching.”

“I did know,” I whispered.

Her lips curled slightly, like she liked that answer. Like it confirmed something for her She stepped even closer. Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, the delicate scent of her perfume curling around me like silk.

“Do you always make it this hard to look away from you?”

“No,” I murmured. “Just tonight.”

Just for you.

Her hand moved slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, knuckles grazing the curve of my jaw. I was holding my breath without realizing it. And then—softly, like she was testing gravity—she leaned in. Her lips brushed mine. Barely. A whisper of contact. Warm. Careful. Intentional. I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just… felt. The way her mouth lingered against mine for a second longer than necessary. The quiet intake of her breath. The soft press of her palm to the side of my face as she deepened the kiss just slightly, like she wanted to make sure I understood this wasn’t an accident.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were darker. Focused. Her thumb brushed my cheekbone gently.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first laid eyes on you,” she said.

My heart was hammering so loud I was afraid she’d hear it.

Then, from the end of the hallway—

“Alex?”

Charles. Her gaze flicked toward the sound—but only for a moment. When she looked back at me, she smiled. Not a flirty smile. A promise.

She tucked another curl behind my ear and said, low and soft, “We’re not done.”

And then she turned—just like that—and disappeared back into the light. I didn’t move for a full thirty seconds.

—

“JULES!”

I stormed back into the green room, nearly tripping over the train of my dress as I slammed the door shut and pressed my back against it like I was being chased.

Jules whipped around mid-text, wide-eyed. “Oh my god. What happened?”

“She kissed me,” I hissed, clutching my clutch like it might save me from cardiac arrest.

Jules blinked. “Charles?”

“No. Alexandra.”

Her phone clattered onto the vanity. “YOU’RE KIDDING—”

“She pulled me into the hallway, told me I was dangerous, and then she kissed me like- like—l”

Jules let out a sound that could only be described as a strangled squeal. “On the mouth??”

“No, Jules, she kissed me on the elbow—YES ON THE MOUTH.” I paced wildly, nearly running into the rack of backup dresses. “And then she smiled and said, ‘We’re not done.’ Like she didn’t just light my entire nervous system on fire.”

Jules grinned. “I told you you were the main character tonight.”

“I thought she was going to slap me for seducing her boyfriend with my eye contact and instead she kissed me like she was the one seduced!”

Before Jules could reply, a gentle knock sounded on the door.

I froze. “That’s either the PR team coming to fire me or Charles coming to duel.”

Jules arched a brow and opened the door like she’d been waiting for this moment her entire life. Charles and Alexandra stood there. Unbothered. Gorgeous. Slightly glowing. Like they knew what they were doing.

“Uh-Hello,” Charles said, eyes locking with mine immediately.

Alexandra’s smile was soft, unreadable. “We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not,” Jules chirped, already stepping aside like the most chaotic wingwoman. “I was just about to force her to drink water and sit down before she passed out.”

Charles tilted his head slightly, amused. “Would it be alright if we stole her for a little while?”

I blinked. “You want to…?”

Alexandra took a step closer, voice calm and warm. “The event is over. We were thinking of getting a drink. Something quieter. Off-site.”

Her gaze lingered on my lips just a second too long.

“Only if you’d like to come,” Charles added, his tone deceptively casual, but the way he looked at me, sharp and curious, told a different story. I stared at both of them. This glittering, impossible couple who had just casually invited me into… something. Jules behind me was vibrating.

“I—” I cleared my throat. “Yeah. I’d… like that.”

Alexandra smiled like she already knew I’d say yes. Charles offered me his hand.

And as I placed mine in his, I whispered over my shoulder to Jules, “If I don’t come back, tell the label I died doing what I loved.”

She winked. “Getting kissed by dangerously attractive people?”

“Exactly.”

—

The hotel suite was too perfect. One of those penthouse setups, city skyline visible through floor-to-ceiling windows, jazz playing faintly from somewhere. There was a tray of cocktails already set out, like they’d planned this. Because they probably had.

“Pick your poison,” Charles offered, already shrugging off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

Alexandra was by the window, slipping off her heels, her back arched just enough to make my throat go dry.

“I—uh, anything’s fine,” I managed.

She handed me a coupe glass with something pale and sparkling inside. “This one’s sweet. You strike me as someone who likes the bite underneath the sugar.”

My brain short-circuited. “Sure. That’s… accurate.”

We sat. Alexandra beside me. Charles across. Too far to touch—but not too far to stare. And he was staring.

“Your performance,” he said, swirling his drink slowly, “was magnetic.”

My face was hot. “Thank you.”

“No,” Alexandra chimed in, eyes not leaving mine, “You don’t understand. The way you held the room. The way you held us. It wasn’t just good. It was…” She paused. “Deliberate.”

I blinked. “You noticed that?”

“We notice everything,” Charles said, voice quiet. “Especially you.”

The air shifted. Subtle, but immediate. I took a slow sip of my drink to fill the silence, only to realize I’d already downed most of it. Alexandra gently took the glass from my hand, setting it on the table without breaking eye contact.

“Can I ask you something?” she said. I nodded.

“Have you been thinking about it all night?” Her voice was like velvet. “The kiss.”

“Yes,” I breathed. Instinctive. Honest.

Charles leaned forward slightly. “Good.”

I felt like I was floating. Or falling. Or both.

He stood, walked toward us, and crouched down in front of me, his eyes gentle but dark with something heavier. “And if I kissed you right now?”

My breath hitched. “I don’t think I’d stop you.”

He smiled—something slow and real—and then his lips met mine. Warm. Curious. Steady. Alexandra’s hand slid along my thigh as he kissed me, her touch grounding and electric at once. And when Charles finally pulled back, she was right there, her kiss softer this time, more familiar, like a secret.

They didn’t rush. Didn’t overwhelm. They just… took their time. Kissing me. Touching me. Watching me fall apart slowly between them.

At some point, Charles whispered, “You’re shaking.”

I laughed—breathless and bright. “I’m overwhelmed.”

Alexandra tucked her face into my neck, her lips brushing my skin. “Then let us take care of you.”

And they did. Together. All night.

—

I woke up somewhere between silk sheets and a mild existential crisis. The first thing I felt was the ache in my body—gentle, sweet, and impossible to ignore. The second was the arm draped across my waist, warm and possessive. The third was panic. Because oh my god I had slept with both Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux. Like… actually slept with them. Not a dream. Not a delusion. Not a spicy fanfic my brain invented mid-tour. Real.

I very gently peeled Charles’ arm off me and slid out of bed in a tangle of limbs and regret-tinged euphoria. Alexandra shifted slightly, her face still angelic against the pillow, hair loose and wild. I was doomed.

I threw on my robe and tiptoed into the living room of the suite like I was escaping a crime scene. I grabbed my phone from the couch and immediately dialed Jules. She picked up on the second ring.

“Did you die?” she asked, voice still scratchy with sleep.

“I think I’m in a romantic crisis,” I whispered. “A sexy, slow-burn, European art film kind of crisis.”

There was a pause. “Where are you?”

“Charles and Alexandra’s hotel suite.”

“NO.”

“Yes.”

“YOU DID NOT—”

“I did!” I hissed. “And I liked it! But now I don’t know if it was just a one-night thing or if I imagined all the feelings or if they’re going to ghost me and continue being a power couple while I spiral into a ball of public humiliation and inner monologue hell!”

Jules let out a long, slow whistle. “Okay. Breathe. Did they say anything this morning?”

“I didn’t wait for anyone to wake up! I ran like a Victorian mistress fleeing the manor after an illicit affair!”

Suddenly, I felt arms wrap slowly, carefully, around my waist. My soul left my body. Charles’ voice was quiet, close, still rough from sleep. “You’re not a mistress, chérie. You’re the one we couldn’t stop thinking about all night.”

I turned so slowly. Charles looked impossibly good for someone who had just woken up—hair messy, eyes soft, mouth still curved in that stupidly charming half-smile.

“I—hi.”

He smiled. “Hi.”

Then Alexandra appeared in the doorway, wrapped in her robe, leaning against the frame like the muse of every chaotic bisexual daydream I’d ever had.

“You left the bed,” she said, eyes on me. “I was almost offended.”

“I was panicking,” I admitted. “Respectfully.”

Charles chuckled softly. “We figured you might.”

I blinked. “So… it wasn’t just a moment?”

Alexandra came closer, gently brushing a piece of hair from my face. “It was everything but just a moment.”

Charles nodded, his hand still holding my waist. “We’ve been watching you all night. Not just on stage. Every laugh, every glance. We didn’t want one night. We want more.”

My breath caught. “You’re serious?”

“Very,” Alexandra murmured, eyes locked on mine.

I bit my lip. “I just—I didn’t want to assume, and this morning felt like I was living in an A24 film with no context.”

Charles grinned. “Then let’s give it context.”

Alexandra laced her fingers through mine. “Let us take you to breakfast. Talk. Figure this out… together.”

I nodded. Maybe too quickly.

“And can Jules come?” I asked. “She’ll explode otherwise.”

Charles laughed. “She can interrogate us over coffee.”

Alexandra smirked. “We’re not scared.”

I smiled, a little shaky, a little high on everything.

—

I was already seated at the rooftop restaurant by the time Jules arrived, but I heard her before I saw her—heels sharp against the stone floor, her sigh loud enough to part the clouds above London. She slid into the seat beside me, sunglasses still on, expression unreadable.

“I need someone to explain to me, right now, why I woke up alone in a hotel bed while you were off having a ménage à trois with Monaco’s golden boy and someone with the face of a literal angel.”

Charles chuckled beside me. Alexandra just sipped her coffee.

I closed my eyes. “Jules, please.”

“No, no, I’m calm. I’m totally fine. Just wondering if I need to make laminated flashcards for your next PR disaster so I can keep up.”

Alexandra reached across the table, gentle and poised. “I’m sorry we surprised you.”

Jules finally took her sunglasses off, blinking like she was assessing a very expensive art piece. “Surprise isn’t the word I’d use. Ambush, maybe. Sexy ambush.”

Charles looked amused. “Would you like to ask us anything?”

Jules leaned back, folding her arms. “Are you in love with her?”

The silence was instant. Clean. Like air being vacuumed out of the sky. My fork clinked softly against the edge of my plate.

Alexandra didn’t flinch. “I think we’re at the beginning of something that could become that.”

Charles nodded, his voice quiet. “We didn’t plan it. But we felt it. And we’re not walking away from it.”

Jules turned to me. “And you?”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what it is yet. But it didn’t feel casual. Not even for a second.”

There was a long pause before Jules exhaled.

“Well,” she said, “as long as you don’t get your heart broken without me being there to destroy someone’s car, I guess I’ll allow it.”

Charles raised his brows. “Noted.”

Alexandra smiled, then turned to me. “Did you really think we’d ghost you?”

“I didn’t know what to think,” I admitted. “I woke up and it felt like—like maybe it wasn’t real. Or maybe it was a mistake.”

“It wasn’t,” Charles said simply.

“It was a beginning,” Alexandra added.

I looked between them. Both beautiful. Both grounded. Both looking at me like they weren’t going anywhere. I leaned into Jules for a second, like I needed one last anchor to who I was before all this. And then I looked back at them.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s see where this goes.”

Alexandra reached for my hand. Charles smiled like the sun had just risen for the first time. And Jules, of course, flagged down the waiter.

“If YN is showing emotionally vulnerable today,” she muttered, “I’m going to need another cappuccino and a pain au chocolat. Stat.”

—

yourstruly_yn

liked by lando, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux & 5,090,002 others.

yourstruly_yn : i leave quite an impression…5 feet to be exact ;)

—

view 389,002 other comments.

julesss : hey. from a pr standpoint not a bestie standpoint — i thought we agreed to warn me before soft launch was initiated.

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ yourstruly_yn : was hoping since you love me so much you wouldn’t care

↳julesss : blah blah

lando : can the man on slide 4 fight

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ yourstruly_yn : idk if he can fight but he can certainly toss me around

liked by charles_leclerc

alexandrasaintmleux : you. are. unreal. 😻

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ yourstruly_yn : my goddess. i love you

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

↳ username00 : is that alex in the first pic?? ↳username10 : i believe so but who is the MANNNN??

↳ username15 : plot twist : it’s charles?

↳ username00 : delusion

pierregasly : finally someone in the paddock shorter than yuki

liked by yourstruly_yn

↳ yourstruly_yn : us short ppl still together. leave that man alone.

↳ yukitsunoda0511 : YEAH LEAVE ME ALONE.

—

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by yourstruly_yn, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc & 875,021 others.

alexandrasaintmleux : in love with love.

—

view 82,090 other comments.

charles_leclerc : lucky me 💐🤍

liked by yourstruly_yn and alexandrasaintmleux

yourstruly_yn : this is so cute. you are so cute. i am obsessed.

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

julesss : aw omg

liked by yourstruly_yn and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ username00 : jules??

↳ username15 : isn’t that yn in the third pic??

↳ username8 : i think so

↳ username7 : who is in that second pic?? yn and charles…

↳ username00 : delusional

↳ username11 : charles was seen wearing that exact outfit the other day

↳ username00 : why would alex allow that though?? let alone take a picture of it.

arthur_leclerc : i think it is time for me to meet this mysterious blonde.

liked by yourstruly_yn, alexandrasaintmleux and charles_leclerc

—

f1gossipgirls

890,374 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Uh Oh! Trouble in Paradise? Charles Leclerc was seen out in Monaco last night kissing none other than YN LN. As far as we know Charles is still in a relationship with, Alexandra Saint Mleux, who has grown close with YN LN recently. Charles caught in another cheating scandal? Not shocked.

—

username0 : oh poor alex

username8 : i always thought yn was better than this

username10 : yn really befriended alex to steal her man. disgusting behavior.

username15 : y’all are all blaming yn when charles is a known cheater. it takes two.

username17 : oh boyyyyy.

—

twitter!

Coming two days after cheating rumors— Pop star YN just dropped a new music video, and it’s already broken the internet. The sultry visual stars none other than Alexandra Saint Mleux — longtime girlfriend of F1 driver Charles Leclerc — in a steamy, intimate role alongside YN herself. The two share lingering touches, smoldering glances, and yes… a full-on kiss halfway through the video. And just when fans thought they couldn’t scream any louder, Charles Leclerc makes a surprise cameo at the very end — leaning in a doorway, watching the two walk away, hand in hand. Romance? Art? PR power move? Whatever it is, the internet is obsessed. One thing’s clear: YN knows exactly what she’s doing.

—

view 509,024 other comments.

username0 : oh yeah im def gay

username10 : this was art

username15 : does this confirm throuple?? or did yn just steal alex??

username22 : charles rlly just stood there smirking and watching them kiss I AM djnfjnajd

username14 : i need a cigarette

username21 : FINALLY things are getting interesting again.

—

yourstruly_yn

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, olliebearman & 10,032,005 others.

yourstruly_yn : will not be further elaborating at this time. think what you want.

tagged : alexandrasaintmleux and charles_leclerc

—

view 810,005 other comments.

username00 : im sorry but the first thing i noticed was the height difference between her and charles and im obsessed

alexandrasaintmleux : thinking a lot of things. all unholy.

liked by yourstruly_yn and charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc : thinking what im going to do to you both

liked by yourstruly_yn and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ username00 : CHARLES????

↳ lando : my EYES

lilymhe : replayed that kiss 20 times and started thinking about my sexuality

liked by yourstruly_yn and alexandrasaintmleux

julesss : oh i love you and i hate you at the same time. so iconic.

liked by yourstruly_yn

username20 : this is how i find out yn is for the girls too??? magical day for the gays

—

(mv blurbs)

We were seated on the edge of the bed, camera crew resetting lights for the final wide shot.

Alex was fixing my lipstick for the fifth time. “You smudge more than anyone I know.”

“That’s because people keep kissing me,” I grinned.

Alex raised a brow. “You complaining?”

Charles, from behind the monitor, didn’t even look up. “If you are, we can stop.”

I turned  and gave him a pointed look. “I never said anything about stopping.” 

The room went quiet for a second, the air thick with that electric, unspoken something that had grown between us. 

“Just for the record,” Alex said as she handed the lipstick back, “this video is the least scandalous thing we’ve done lately.”

We all laughed. But no one said she was wrong.

—

Charles stood in front of me, tall, annoyingly smug, his eyes tracing every line of my face. “Nervous?” he asked.

“No,” I lied. “You?”

He smirked. “Terrified.”

I gripped the tie and tugged him closer—hard enough to wipe the smirk right off his face. He hit the wall behind him with a soft thud and grabbed at my hips, for a split second, we just stared at each other.

His voice dropped just enough for me to feel it in my spine. “You’re very good at that.”

“Acting?” I said, forcing a grin.

He shook his head. “Ruining me.” 

—

“Final shot!” someone shouted.

I was jittery, buzzing with adrenaline and nerves and something else I didn’t want to name. Alex slipped her hand into mine just before the take, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.

“You okay?” she whispered.

I nodded. “You?”

She grinned. “I’m having the time of my life.”

Charles was watching us from across the room—his cue was to lean in the doorframe, casual. Except he didn’t look casual. He looked… captivated. Like he was seeing something he wanted to memorize. The camera rolled. We walked away. I didn’t look back. I didn’t have to. I already knew he was still watching.

—

I don’t usually watch the playback. But the second the monitor lit up with that slow-motion shot of Alex kissing me, of Charles in the doorway looking like sin incarnate in a suit—my curiosity got the better of me.

“Looks good,” the editor muttered.

Understatement of the century.

Alex watched too, arms folded beside me. “You know this is going to break the internet, right?”

“I’m not sure the internet deserves this,” I said, only half joking.

Then Charles joined us, cocked his head and said, “We look good together.”

We. Together. I didn’t say anything. But I felt it in my chest.

—

The hotel room was dim, lit only by the flicker of my phone screen and the soft city lights bleeding through the curtains. The three of us were a mess of limbs under the plush duvet — Alexandra draped across my stomach, her long hair tickling my skin, and Charles curled behind me, one hand tucked under the hem of my oversized tee, the other lazily holding his phone. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that only exists after everything explodes. My phone buzzed again. Then again.

Alex groaned without lifting her head. “You checking it or just letting it vibrate us to death?”

I grabbed it and squinted at the screen. “Trending in 24 countries. There’s an edit of you and me kissing with the caption ‘real cinema is back.’”

Charles chuckled, chin resting on my shoulder. “Do they like my cameo?”

“Someone said you looked like the sexy villain interrupting two sapphics mid-flirt.”

He grinned, unbothered. “Fair.”

Alex finally rolled over, her cheek now on my thigh, scrolling through her own feed. “There’s a thread analyzing the whole video. They know, YN.”

I looked down at her. “They think they know.”

Charles hummed behind me, warm and sleepy. “Let them talk. It’s our story.”

And somehow, with both of them tangled around me, I didn’t care what the world thought. Not right now.

“I think we started something,” I whispered.

Alex looked up at me. “Or maybe we’re just finally letting it happen.”

Charles kissed my shoulder again, quieter this time. “Either way, I’m in.”

And just like that, I silenced my phone. Let the world spiral — we were safe in the eye of the storm.

—

charles_leclerc

liked by yourstruly_yn, alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55 and 12,930,000 others.

charles_leclerc : my girls.

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

[immortalmolloy]

That’s all… Sure. Daniel didn’t want her to lie to him or try to baby him about it. He knew what this really was. He knew that nothing could ever be the same. He felt himself shutting down, shoving all his emotions deep inside. He didn’t want to feel anything anymore. Things could not go back to how they were and he should just let her go. He had done enough. “Okay,” he said, voice flat.

Where had love gotten him in the end? Love was pain. Love was a curse driving a wedge between them. He loved her but he could not have her, not the way he used to. Mina had always been the sun and he was the moon. He had been wrong when he thought they were soulmates. They were never meant for each other. Their downfall was inevitable. He had infected her with his darkness. He had damned her to hell. That was her reward for getting too close to him. He didn’t deserve her. He never had. All of his hopes and dreams for their life together had shattered.

Daniel returned home. Home was an empty hollow word. He didn’t like to see her belongings there that were untouched and remember what it was like when she used to live there with him. Nothing could ever be the same.

“You think you lost her again,” Louis observed.

“She needs space,” Daniel replied. “I ruined her.”

“You saved her. You know what it was like for me in the beginning,” Louis reminded him. “Lestat kept insisting I embrace what I was, but it wasn’t easy. It took time. She needs time, that’s all.”

“She didn’t want this,” Daniel said. “I need to let her go like I should have in the first place. She made it clear and I was selfish.”

“She’s hurting,” Louis insisted. “She’s adjusting to a new way of life. She’s scared. She’s not gone forever.”

“I can’t do this,” Daniel said defeatedly.

“Yes, you can,” Louis assured him. He pulled Daniel close.

Daniel could see the emotion in Louis’ brilliant green eyes. Fear. Need. Desire. Weariness. Hope. “I’m sorry,” Daniel apologized. It wasn’t fair that he’d been distant with Louis and Lestat since Mina’s birth to darkness. It wasn’t fair that they had to babysit him and make sure he didn’t die. It wasn’t fair that they had to care for him and force him to drink enough blood to keep existing.

Louis shook his head. “Stop apologizing. Let me be here for you, Daniel. I want to. I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” Daniel said, bitterness lacing his tone.

“I dont?” Louis gave a surprised skeptical chuckle. “I begged Lestat to curse a dying little girl. Lestat warned me of the consequences and I demanded it anyway. I had to watch her die and know it was my fault. Don’t tell me I don’t get it. You’re not the only hurting!”

Months of frustrations and tensions had built up and it exploded out like a burst dam. They wrestled a bit and crashed into a wall together. Louis’ grip on Daniel wasn’t gentle. He crushed him against the wall and their lips collided roughly.

Daniel groaned into the kiss, gripping Louis tightly. They didn’t even undress completely as Louis turned Daniel around so he was facing the wall. Daniel braced himself against the wall with his hands as Louis thrust into him. It was rough and passionate and in the end it was cathartic for them both after months of no intimacy.

When it was over, Louis guided Daniel to the shower so that he could wash him lovingly and dress him in clean clothes. He brushed his fingers through Daniel’s wet curls and kissed him gently. They cuddled up in bed together. Daniel’s lips found Louis’ neck. He sank his fangs into him and drank from him.

“So, you want to interview vampires, so you?”

[taebinlvr]

— centimeters

summary : as your game night with the boys reached an unusual peak in boredom, huening kai suggests a few rounds of the pepero game to get the dopamine pumping. however, what kai didn't consider was the several-month long crush that you had on soobin, and what you didn't consider was the fact that soobin would choose you as his partner. at the end of the night, when the tension is suffocating you and your mind is swirling with "what-if's," soobin offers to give you a ride home. you accept, not realizing in the moment just how mutual that tension was. pairing : choi soobin x fem!reader genre: friends to lovers, mutual pining, non-idol au, smut, fluff wc : 7.8k warnings : pwp (like 50-50), unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f receiving), some pet names (baby, honey), multiple orgasms, creampie, both reader and soobin are really horny but especially soobin <3

a/n : i haven't written smut in literal years so this was purely driven by how whipped i am for choi soobin <3 inspired by txt playing the pepero game bc it's been on my mind ever since that vid dropped. never been so jealous in my life. txt masterlist .

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“how about the pepero game?” kai suggested, earning varying kinds of stares from the group.

for the last ten minutes or so, you and the boys had been bickering in kai’s living room about which game was next to tackle on your game night list.

you had already exhausted all the games kai had on his switch, as well as almost half the board games he found tucked away under his bed. you were on a roll, and had no means of stopping quite yet; but there was no remaining game that anyone could agree was exciting enough to satisfy your boredom.

that was until kai piped up amongst the chatter, anyway. taehyun gave him a blatantly disgusted look, his brows furrowed and his eyes widened slightly, while yeonjun and beomgyu immediately jumped at the idea with loud agreements and wide smiles. they had gotten a few drinks in them by now, it was only a matter of time before they got reckless.

you, however, were nervous. the point of the pepero game was to make the stick as short as possible, but the real reason people played it was just to see how close two people could get to kissing. that wasn’t exactly what made you so nervous, the thought of a near-kiss actually didn’t phase you. you saw your relationship with the guys as entirely platonic, nothing more than friends – at least, for all but one of them.

a few months ago you started developing some sort of feelings for soobin, a tall, handsome, and sweet character, and it’s only been growing and festering ever since. it started with small fleeting moments of adoration, just letting your gaze linger for an extra second or smiling softly when he entered a room.

you realized you might have felt something real for him when you anxiously wanted to be around him, even though your heart would pound if you got too close. eventually he became all you could think about, your thoughts filled with fantasies of what it would be like to feel his embrace, his lips on yours. to feel his one of his large hands on your hips, the other wrapped so firmly around your neck.

god. that’s why you were nervous – even with the slimmest chance that the two of you would be paired together, what would you even do? how were you supposed to control yourself?

you laughed along with the guys for now, but your gaze quietly shifted over to soobin, sitting quietly on the other side of the room.

your heart jumped.

your eyes met, and neither of you looked away.

at first, you were just testing him; trying to figure out if it was just a coincidence or you had caught him staring. you got your answer when his dark eyes didn’t flinch when you looked at him, his expression calm and composed even though you felt like your heart was about to leap right out of your chest.

you could only take so much before you looked away, turning your attention back to the rest of the group in a daze. why was he already staring at you? why did he look so calm? what was he thinking?

“then who wants to go first?”

yeonjun’s voice grounded you in reality again, your mind suddenly coming back into focus. you didn’t even notice how the some guys had joined you on the floor, sitting in a circle, or how kai had opened a couple of boxes of pepero, keeping one for the game while dispersing the others.

“we’ll go first.”

your eyes immediately flicked to soobin at the sound of his voice, your heart sinking deep into your chest as your eyes met once again. he took on of the sticks from kai’s hands, slowly standing from the couch and making his approach.

he chose you.

the loud cheers and and laughter that came from the rest of the group was drowned out by the onslaught of thoughts that came flooding into your mind. half of you was convinced that he would make it quick, only opting to have you as a partner since you were close, and probably more bearable to work with than anyone else.

at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel that nervousness settle back in. what you thought was a slim chance of happening was now becoming a reality, and you already felt the heat rising into your cheeks before he was even within two feet of you.

as he knelt down in front of you, his eyes never left yours. his expression was still serious at first, until his eyes flicked down to your cheeks. the corners of his lips tugged up into a small smile, and immediately you knew you were caught. you silently prayed that the other guys were too drunk to notice your embarrassed flush, too.

soobin lifted the stick in his hand to your mouth, his smile widening.

“here, take it.”

your heart fluttered, eyes never looking away from him as you silently obeyed. his hands reached out to gently grip your shoulders, his warm hands sliding ever so subtly up the sleeves of your t-shirt so that he was touching your skin.

“just go already. your score is gonna get beat anyway.” yeonjun chirped, but you were far to enveloped in soobin’s gaze to listen.

“i wanna take this seriously, actually. do you think i’m playing to lose?” soobin looked away from a moment, shooting a grin towards yeonjun before immediately turning back to you.

before anyone else could complain, soobin turned his head and slowly started biting down on the stick you were holding so tensely between your teeth, not being able to stop yourself from squeezing your eyes shut. you wished for something like this, maybe even dreamt about it.

his face mere centimeters away, large hands holding you still as he drew his lips closer to yours; but you didn’t want this. you wanted to be alone, to have him to yourself. you didn’t want anyone else to see how easily you lost yourself in his touch.

you felt the weight between your teeth become lighter and lighter, your heart pounding at the thought of just how close soobin would already be if you opened your eyes. but you kept them shut, hands clasped tightly in your lap as you desperately wished that you two were alone. you wished that he could stop being so polite and proper for the sake of the game, your desperation only getting worse as you felt soobin’s hot breath against your lips.

you thought maybe he would really do it, maybe he would close the distance and secretly wanted the same thing you did.

but you were sorely disappointed when his breath disappeared and he pulled away, your eyes opening wide as soon as he did. you watched as soobin held up the stick to the ruler in yeonjun’s hands, a proud expression washing over his features as he turned back towards you, hand shooting into the air.

“1.2 centimeters. not bad, right?” he beamed.

you agreed, suddenly breathless.

did he have any idea what he did to you?

that question haunted you for the rest of the night as the boys satisfied their dopamine craving with a couple more rounds of the pepero game, followed by a couple more rounds of drinks between yeonjun and beomgyu. it was only when they started getting out of hand that kai cut the night short, fearing for the cleanliness of his apartment, taehyun taking on the burden of driving them both home.

with taehyun now in charge of babysitting two drunk men and kai busy cleaning up the mess they left behind, you figured the best plan of action was just to call a taxi. you didn’t live far, so whatever the fee was wouldn’t be too much of a hassle to pay. as you stepped out of kai’s apartment building and into the street, however, a tall, familiar figure waited for you.

“y/n- you’re not actually gonna call a taxi, are you?” soobin’s eyes watched you carefully as they landed on you. the way you perceived those eyes, the way the looked at you and met yours so carefully, was utterly distorted now. all you could think of now when he looked at you was the way he stared you down earlier that night, holding the stick to your lips and shamelessly asking you to just take it.

“it’s no big deal, it’s not like i have to go that far.” even though you didn’t want to, you tore your eyes away from soobin, eyes searching the city streets instead.

“there’s not many drivers around at this hour, though. it’s cold, and it’s getting late.” you could feel soobin still watching you, the sound of his car keys jingling filling the otherwise quiet air.

“let me drive you home.”

you didn’t make any snappy movements. you didn’t flinch or flick your head up at the sound of his words. you just stared blankly at the other end of the street as your heart fluttered, head slowly turning up to finally look at him again.

“you don’t have to, really. you live in the other direction, anyway-”

“please. i insist.”

there was something different about the tone of his voice. something spilled out, something that was overflowing and threatening to unravel, even though he seemed to be doing such a good job with keeping it in check.

or maybe your delusions were getting the better of you. maybe your feelings for him were twisting reality, and you were starting to ignore the facts just to believe what you wanted.

logic was telling you that soobin had given you a ride home several times in the past, and this was just him worrying about you as your friend – but your feelings were telling you that this was a chance you couldn’t pass up.

“okay, okay.” you smiled, following him to his car. “let’s go.”

the first few minutes of the car ride were silent. not uncomfortably so, but part of you still felt tense, somehow. there was an inkling of a thought pacing back and forth in your head, making you wonder as you glanced over at soobin.

god, he was beautiful. the slight curve of his nose, his pouty lips, the pale glow on his skin. the way his jacket accentuated his shoulders, the way his hand so leisurely held the bottom of the steering wheel. if you focused hard enough, you could smell the faint scent of his cologne spreading through the air, filling your lungs and clouding your senses.

you wondered: were you really imagining things, or did he feel it too?

“i didn’t make you uncomfortable, did i?” soobin asked, glancing briefly at you. “during the pepero game.”

“no, not at all.” your mouth went a bit dry as you spoke, the question catching you off guard. “why do you ask?”

“you just seemed so tense. your cheeks were flushed and you were gripping your hands so tight your knuckles turned white. you know, you could’ve said no if you didn’t want to do it.” he chuckled lightly, but there was a sense of worry evident in his voice.

“oh, that?” you looked back out the window, mentally scolding yourself for making yourself so obvious. the worst part is that he interpreted your tension in the complete opposite way – you wanted it. in fact, you didn’t get nearly enough of it. if only the other guys weren’t watching it all happen, maybe you could have made that clearer.

“sorry, if that’s how it came across.” regaining your composure, you looked back over at soobin. “i was just nervous, that’s all. it kind of awkward doing that while everyone was watching, don’t you think?”

soobin grinned, letting out another light laugh, “definitely. but it was kind of fun, wasn’t it?”

you smiled to yourself, but couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread settle in your stomach. the way he talked about it was so casual, as if his breath against your lips and his hands so carefully holding your frame was a normal occurrence – but it wasn’t normal, not to you. didn’t he see that? didn’t he notice how hot he made you feel?

“soobin.” his name slipped out from your lips before you could even stop it. there was so much you wanted to say, and all the words you had been working so hard on keeping under wraps were threatening to burst right then and there.

he hummed in response, and from the corner of your eye you could see him periodically glancing over at you. he was waiting for you, like he was asking you to continue, and for some reason you wanted nothing more but to make it happen for him. you submit, each and every one of your secret thoughts beginning to spill out one by one, his gaze making you too weak to stop it.

“i was nervous, and it was because everyone was watching,” you paused, trying to swallow the dryness in your throat, “but i.. i wanted it, you know. i wanted to kiss you.”

the couple of seconds of silence that followed your words seemed to stretch out for hours. you could’ve sworn that you felt the air in the car shift, turning tense and heavy, the weight of it nearly suffocating you. your mouth opened as you rushed to reverse the damage, but the words died in your throat as soobin spoke up first.

“really?” he asked, though there was a certain softness to his words. there was a smile in his tone, and as you looked over at him, you could see how the corners of his mouth seemed to lift after your confession. it made your head spin.

“well-” originally, you were going to take it all back, snatch your words right out of the air and bury them somewhere not even you would remember; but that damn smile of his was urging you to keep going. “yeah, really. and you seemed so competitive that i thought maybe you would really do it, even if it was just for the game. but you pulled back last second.”

a few more seconds of silence, then soobin spoke again, “the guys wouldn’t have stopped talking about it if we did. i couldn’t do that to you.” he chuckled, and so did you. he had a point.

“but i was nervous, too. i think that’s why i ended up pulling back, it felt like my chest would explode if i didn’t. but i wanted it, too.”

..he wanted it, too?

the subtle beat of your heart started to pump harder within your chest, so excited by the mere words soobin was speaking that it flipped and turned every which way. your eyes didn’t turn away from him; they watched and studied his expression, and that’s when you caught it.

the pale red shade that rose into his cheeks, making him adjust himself in his seat and nervously fiddle with the steering wheel. he was just as nervous as you were.

your voice softened as you carefully tread the conversation, fearing that one wrong choice of words could shatter all the progress you’ve made.

“do you still want it?”

your eyes locked for a second, only a second, but that was enough to get a glance into him. you saw the way his eyes widened every so slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to ask such a question. but with the way that rosey flush spread into his ears, his mouth shifting as he bit the inside of his cheek, you could tell he liked it.

the car came to a slow as soobin skillfully pulled in front of your apartment building, one hand pulling off the wheel to put the car in park. finally, he looked over at you properly. the nearby streetlight shone through the windshield, illuminating his features perfectly. you could finally look into his eyes again, watching his gaze soften and seem to sparkle slightly in the light.

“even if i say yes, how will i get it?”

his question made your heart skip a beat. there was a shift in his tone; it became a bit curious, a bit suggestive. his eyes glanced between your eyes and your lips, and he didn’t seem even slightly ashamed when you caught him. you even noticed how he seemed to lean in just a bit closer, the scent of his cologne stronger. he wanted a certain answer from you, even if he didn’t say it.

and you were going to give it to him.

“can you stay for a bit?”

the walk to your apartment floor felt like it lasted hours, the thick tension between you two palpable. you weren’t rushing to leave the elevator or to grab your keys out of your bag to unlock your door, even though you felt like that was more appropriate than slowly and silently strolling through the hallways.

it was starting to drive you crazy – but then again, you would rather do this than do anything rash. what if he pushed back, what if he was scared away?

you pushed open the door to your apartment, soobin hovering behind you as you slid off your shoes and shrugged your coat off your shoulders. that was until, suddenly, your coat was properly lifted off your frame, your head spinning around to see soobin had taken it in his hands. he hung it on the hooks you had near your door, next to his.

but he never looked away from you. he looked at you in a similar way to earlier, in a way that nearly made your legs buckle beneath you. slowly, he approached you. your head gradually tilted up to meet his eyes, as his tilted down to meet yours.

one of his hands gently took hold of your shoulder, and you wondered if he could feel the goosebumps on your skin as he traced down your arm. he took your hand in his, while his other hand reached up to your face, gently cupping your cheek. he held you so gently, as if holding you too tightly would shatter your skin.

“is this okay?” his voice whispered into the dark, silent air. you nodded, and in response his face slowly started to draw closer to yours. unlike earlier, you didn’t close your eyes. your muscles didn’t tense and you didn’t squeeze your hands into tight fists. you watched him come closer and closer, until he stopped mere centimeters away from your face.

“this is where i stopped, during the game.” you could see a small smile grow over his features, as if he was proud. “you really want this?”

you chuckled at the fact he was even asking you that. you could feel his hot breath against your lips. the scent of his cologne flooded your senses, clouding your thoughts and dizzying your mind. you felt extra sensitive to his touch, even the slightest movement from him sending a chill down your spine. he was driving you crazy, and he didn’t even know it. that’s what made his question so ridiculous.

“more than anything.” you whispered, and his smile widened. he must have been playing with you, or he wouldn’t have looked so smug as he closed the gap between the two of you.

the feeling of his lips pressing against yours was like a sweet release, a weight being lifted off of your chest. you had wanted this for months, although they felt like years, and it was beyond anything you could have possibly imagined.

the taste of his lips was sweet, intoxicating you and getting you hooked on the flavor. he felt soft, almost fragile. he kissed you carefully, memorizing the way your lips danced and paying close attention when the rhythm changed. he leaned deeper into you, and you leaned back. your tongue grazed his teeth, and he granted you permission to enter.

without quite realizing it, the small entryway of your apartment became hot with the warmth radiating from your bodies. you felt it in your face, where soobin’s hands were touching, and especially where you wished he was touching.

the gentle kiss you two started with devolved into something hungry. needy. the hand soobin had been using to so carefully hold your face was now on the small of your back, pulling you close until there was no distance left between you.

your hands reached up from where they had been resting on soobin’s chest to instead tangle themselves in his hair. he kept leaning into you until you had no choice but to stumble back against your wall, and for a moment he pulled away. his hands moving to snake down your sides until they hooked under your thighs, lifting you up so effortlessly it sent a wave of heat straight to your core.

“where’s your room?”

his question practically knocked the wind out of you as you breathlessly answered:

“door on your right- there.”

you pointed to the door just ahead of your entry way, soobin following where your finger guided him. as he shoved the already ajar door completely open with his shoulder, he continued pressing deep kisses into your lips, the breathing between you two getting heavy and ragged.

within seconds you were being laid down onto your sheets, one of soobin’s hands supporting your back as the other pressed into the mattress, caging you in. you were waiting for him to lean down and allow you to intoxicate yourself with the taste of his lips, but for a few moments, he didn’t move. he merely hovered over you with half-lidded eyes and his pouty lips agape, waiting for something to say.

“i wanna do more than just kiss you, y/n. i want so much more..” he confessed, butterflies swirling in your stomach at his words. you knew by the lustful glint in his eyes that his intentions were sinful, naughty; but the way he spoke so softly felt so pure.

you almost felt giddy – if only that giddiness wasn’t being so loudly overtaken by a burning desire.

“i won’t stop you.” you whispered, your arms snaking around his neck as your hands found their way back his tousled hair, “i want it, soobin. i want you.”

it was only after your words that a switch seemed to flip in him, like the mutual desire between you too was finally understood. he let out a shaky exhale and dived into you, placing a kiss onto your jaw before latching onto your neck. you gasped at the sensation of sweet, gentle kisses being pressed into your skin, your neck craning to give him more space to work with.

“you smell so sweet.” he muttered between kisses, making you smile, “it’s driving me crazy.”

as soobin nipped at your neck, you did something you had been waiting so long to do: just touch him. your hands left his hair as they traced down his chest, sneakily making their way down to his waist. he was wearing a white, perfectly loose t-shirt, which gave you the perfect opportunity to slip your hands under the fabric, the ghostly touch of your fingertips barely grazing his skin. you felt him shiver, catching him gasp right beneath your ear. 

but your movements didn’t stop him as his kisses got rougher, hungrier. devolving from soft and sweet pecks into starved sucking as he marked the space below your collarbone.

one of his hands slid down your waist, taking hold of the hem of your shirt and pulling it up.he pulled back, letting out a heavy breath as he pressed kisses on your chest, then your ribs, then your stomach – you were almost sure he would have been able to feel your heart pounding through his lips.

“soobin..” you mewled as you watched him lean back, eyes trained on your center as his fingers traced the waistline of your jeans.

you watched him undo the buttons and hook his thumbs around the waistline, pulling down your jeans in one single movement. his hands every so slightly pushed your thighs up, encouraging you to spread them open. you obeyed, although your cheeks burned with embarrassment at just the thought of how soaked you probably were.

“oh my god..” he practically groaned at the sight of you, his fingers laying flat against your pussy and sliding up. you whimpered in response, shocked at just how sensitive you felt to his touch. his eyes flicked up to you.

“you have no idea how bad i wanted this, baby.” his voice shifted into a husky tone as his body moved down, getting a pathetic whimper out of you. his arms hooked around your thighs as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, firm and decisive. his expression was almost desperate, his eyebrows turned up and his cheeks flushed, as if he was on his knees to start begging you for pleasure. it made your head spin.

as his hands grabbed and pulled at the hem of your panties, carefully yet quickly taking them off and discarding them, your legs practically shook with need. his hands held your thighs and spread you open, exposing you fully to him. mildly embarrassed, you turned away, averting your eyes from the lewd scene beneath you.

it was then you felt the warm, wet sensation of soobin’s tongue lick your slit from the bottom up, ending with a small peck against your sensitive clit. you breathed out a moan, your hands reaching up and taking hold of your sheets, as if to prepare for what was to come.

“eyes on me, honey.” he requested, and without even thinking you looked back at him, completely forgetting the bashfulness that overtook you a second ago. you nearly gasped at the view beneath you, how soobin’s gaze was wide and doe-eyed, staring so sweetly at you from between your thighs.

“there you go. want you to watch me, okay?” those words and the hint of his smile was enough to make you cum right then and there, but the dream of that was quickly cut off as soobin dove into you.

he tried to be patient, he really did. he started with shy licks and kisses, like he did on your neck, but it barely lasted a minute before he was sloppily lapping at your pussy. it was like he was thirsty for it, the way he thrusted his tongue between your folds and sucked at your clit.

“s-soobin, oh my god- fuck-“ you quickly unraveled into a moaning mess, knuckles turning white as you gripped the sheets and desperately tried to keep yourself still — but it was no use. you were squirming in his grasp, your hips shyly bucking into his face as the knot inside of you grew tighter.

“god- just like that, y/n. don’t stop.” soobin groaned into your cunt, as if he was getting off on it just as much as you were. using the brief moment of separation, two of his fingers brushed against your entrance before slowly sliding their way in. you both moaned at the sensation.

“you’re so tight-“ he practically whimpered, fingers thrusting at a steady pace right into a spot that made your back arch. “are you close, huh? you wanna cum all over my fingers, baby? can you do that for me?”

his senseless rambling into your cunt on in between his tongue lapping at your clit on top of his fingers keeping you full was making you see stars. this deep, burning desire that you had for soobin had been festering for so long, and the fact that it was finally being fulfilled was almost too much for you to handle. but even as your legs shook and you moaned shamelessly into the air, you wanted more. you needed more.

“i-i need-“ you gasped between your moans, your noise barely covering the sound of soobin sucking at your dripping cunt. your hips were moving completely on their own now, shame flying out the window as you slid up and down soobin’s tongue, “s-soobin, i’m gonna-“

“give it to me,” his groans sent vibrations up your body, making you tremble, “let it go baby, please. just give it to me.”

as if on command, the tight knot that had been stretching thin within your stomach snapped at his words, a blinding euphoria completely washing over your body. every limb, every muscle of yours shook with overwhelming pleasure, your entrance desperately tightening around soobin’s fingers as they slowed. he worked you carefully through your orgasm, pulling his mouth away to rub gentle circles on your clit.

“holy shit-” you breathed out, breathless as your eyes, previously squeezed shut, carefully opened. your vision gradually came into focus as a lightheadedness settled into your skull. you felt weak, your body limp against the mattress as you realized the sudden cramping in your fingers from so tightly holding onto your sheets. you had never experienced anything like that before.

but even as the orgasm soobin gave you with nothing but his mouth and fingers left you utterly stunned, your fantasies about him never stopped at foreplay. you needed more –  and not only did you know it, but you could feel it.

the second soobin’s fingers carefully left your entrance, it was already begging for them to come back. it clasped and twitched around nothing, burning and pleading as it longed to be filled again. to be filled by him.

“god- i can’t wait-”

you gathered the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows as you looked down at where soobin had been kneeling, only to find he was already up on his feet. you felt a heat rush down your spine and fester at your core at the sight of him.

“you have no idea how bad i need you-” his words came out in breaths, “d’you even know how hot that was?”

he had already taken his t-shirt off, the subtle definition of his body practically glowing in the dim moonlight. his hands, still stained with your slick, anxiously fiddled with the buttons of his jeans before undoing them. even through the tight material of his jeans, there was an extremely evident tent in the fabric.

you felt your breath catch in your throat as he pulled down both his jeans and his boxers in one swift movement, his long, thick erection springing free.

soobin climbed onto the bed and resumed his position where he hung over you before, one hand by your side while the other slowly pumped his cock. you couldn’t help but watch as his thumb circled his flushed tip, barely able to catch the glisten of the pre-cum that he spread over the top of his shaft.

but the sight of his face made you just as hot. you met his eyes, and in an instant you recognized that you were seeing a completely different side of soobin. his face was flushed, eyes drowsy and half-open as if he was in a trance. soft pants escaped his open mouth every so often, his lips wet with a mix of your juices and his saliva.

he was needy. just as needy as you.

“do you have any condoms? where are they?” the words rushed out of his mouth, like anything that wasn’t fucking you was just a waste of time. you would have laughed if your mind wasn’t so overridden by desire.

“just forget that-” your tone hinted at a whine as your hips wiggled beneath him, your legs moving up to loosely wrap around his waist. you barely pulled him in, but you could already feel the tip of his cock brushing against your clit. you shivered at the sensation.

“wait, y/n, are you-”

“it’s okay, i promise,” you felt your heart pound in your chest, your core tighten and squeeze. your hands moved up into his hair again, your hands tangling in his locks. “just put it in binnie, please? i can’t wait either..”

although he looked like he had something he wanted to say, his hips responded first. he pushed his length against the lips of your pussy, not to enter, but just to slide up and down the wetness of it. you whimpered at the action, a combination of both impatience and sensitivity from your orgasm making you dizzy with need.

“i’m not gonna go slow. i can’t.” he said, the words phrased as a rule. a non-negotiable. “you okay with me being rough? sure you can take it?”

you rapidly nodded, biting back the pathetic sounds you so desperately wanted to make at the feeling of his length against your heat.

“tell me, baby.” he whined, “can you take it?”

your throat went dry.

“yes,” you breathed, “i can take it.”

a dazed, lazy smile spread over his features.

soobin leaned back, his large hands sliding up the back of your thighs as he spread you open wider, his eyes glued to where the two of you met. his brows furrowed and his mouth let out soft breaths as he slid over your clit just a couple more times, before pushing firmly into the heat of your entrance.

you moan in unison as just a portion of your desires are finally met, and you swear for a moment you saw stars. you could feel how tight you were around him, the massive size of him making you unbelievably full.

“fuck..” soobin let out a drawn out moan as he bottomed out inside of you, fingers pressing deep into the soft skin of your thighs. he already started to grind into you, your walls sucking him in each time he dared pull back.

“you don’t know how bad i wanted this, y/n..” he said, your heart jumping at his words. for just a moment, you debated what he said. you were shocked at the implication that he wanted this for longer than just a moment, making you wonder just how long the two of you waited before satiating a now mutual hunger.

but you couldn’t think about that too deeply yet – not when you could barely speak, let alone think about anything else but the delicious feeling of soobin steadily pounding into your burning cunt. not when the only thing that left your mouth was high-pitched moans and needy whines, occasionally interrupted by whispered swears.

you had been waiting for, dreaming, of this moment, and you were going to lavish in it.

the steady pace that soobin started at rapidly devolved into fast, desperate movements. his hips would pull almost all the way back, leaving you with nothing but the head of his cock before slamming right back into you.

he moved at a relentless pace, the lewd, merciless sound of skin slapping against skin leaving no room in the air for silence. the only thing competing with its volume was the sound of your own moans, shameless and explicit.

and amidst it all, soobin’s eyes never left yours, his head tilted to the side as he watched you fall apart beneath him. watching as your hands reached out and pawed at the skin of his arms, studying how your eyes briefly rolled back every time he hit the sweetest part of you; but, strangely, it didn’t feel like you were just being observed. you were being admired. idolized. worshipped.

“you look so pretty like this.” soobin cooed breathlessly, “so so pretty.. and so wet for me- so wet and so fucking tight-“

“soobin-“ all you could think to do was cry out his name in response. while you both seemed utterly drunk on the feeling of each other, soobin had been mindlessly rambling ever since he got the chance to touch you, while you couldn’t put together a proper sentence for the life of you.

it felt so good, almost too good, as tears stung the corners of your eyes and that euphoric tension tightened inside of you again with a vengeance. it didn’t help that all the words you tried to say to convey that message only came spewing out as fucked-out nonsense.

“you okay, baby? not too much for you, right?” soobin suddenly asked, a hint of concern in his voice despite the reckless speed of his hips slamming against yours. it didn’t seem like he could stop, even if he wanted to.

you anxiously shook your head. “n-no, please, don’t stop-“ you managed to choke out, your fingers wrapping around his forearms and tugging him towards you. he understood, leaning down and pushing your knees close to your chest with his arms in order to close the gap between the two of you.

the new angle made you see stars, and if soobin hadn’t pressed his lips passionately into yours, you knew it would have enough to rip a cry out of you.

he shoved his tongue between your lips as he rushed to get a taste of you, the quiet murmur of your mutual moaning getting muffled by it. you surrendered completely to him, letting him bite at your lips and tangle his hands into your hair.

although you succumbed to him, however, your entire body remained tense. every muscle in your body squeezed tight, especially where it was wrapped around soobin’s length. your moans became more high-pitched and whiny, your breaths in-between more ragged. your hands had found their place on soobin’s back, desperately clawing and dragging against his skin.

“i-i’m gonna fucking cum, soobin-” you mewled as soobin pulled back, resuming his previous position to tower over you, your legs spread open so obediently for him. “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop- please don’t stop-”

your hurried blabber only encouraged soobin, each one of his thrusts hitting the deepest parts of you with a fiery passion. each one told you that nothing would be better than this. that you were ruined for any other man. that you were his.

“go ahead, baby, ‘s okay..” he said, speaking with a softness, “let me see you fall apart all over me.”

at his request, your second orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. it was twice as intense, euphoria repeatedly striking you directly at your core before sending shockwaves down your body. you threw your head back into the pillows, stars scattered across your vision as a lewd, pornographic moan ripped from your throat. the sensation of your orgasm rippled around soobin’s cock, forcing him to breath out a drawn out moan and string of whispered curses.

“just like that, honey,” soobin’s moaned from over you, “so good.. so, so good..”

while the orgasm itself hit you twice as hard, it felt like the aftermath exhausted you ten times as much. you couldn’t control the way your legs shook in soobin’s grasp, or the way your chest steadily rose and fell in an attempt to catch your breath.

but coming down from such a high proved impossible as soobin continued to hammer into you, his pace only slowing when your orgasm made it too difficult to move.

“s-soo.. bin- wait- ‘s too much!” you cried out to him, watching through the blurry lens of your vision as he so mercilessly pounded your sensitive cunt.

“i know baby, i know..” he panted, “‘m sorry, i can’t stop- til your pussy’s stuffed full, i can’t stop-”

you were so spent already. every inch of your skin was covered in a thin film of sweat, your heart thundered relentlessly in your chest, and there was a thick scent of sex filling the air of your room. your legs felt so limp that you could barely feel them at all, the sweet sting of where soobin had dug his fingers into being the only reminder. and your head – you could have sworn that you were dreaming based on how lightheaded the rapid sense of overstimulation made you.

but, despite that, you didn’t dare stop him. you didn’t push him away or beg for a break – you laid there and took it. you let tears gather in your eyes, overstimulation wracking your body as your limbs quivered and pussy ached around soobin’s cock.

your hands found their place in your sheets once more, tightening and gripping onto the fabric as if it was somehow going to save you. and your voice, raw and ruined, knew nothing but the feeling of soobin’s name being ripped from your throat.

and he fucking loved it.

“you’re so hot, y/n, so fucking beautiful. d’you even know what you do to me? how long i wanted to pound your pretty pussy like this?” as soobin rambled on, his voice gradually became more out of breath, more desperate. his moans became whiny, high-pitched.

“needed you so bad it was driving me crazy- but you needed it too, huh, baby? did’ya wanna get pounded like this?”

his words made your head spin, a fresh wave of desire washing over your body and sending heat rushing to all the right places. he loved how he took you apart piece by piece, and you loved seeing how drunk he got on it.

“i-i needed it so bad, you have no f- fucking idea-” you cried, “it f-feels so good-”

his thrusts started to get sloppy, losing the ruthless rhythm he had started with. he fell to his elbows, his hands snaking up your arms and peeling your fingers away from the bedsheets. his hands intertwined with yours, holding your shaking frame against the mattress. 

“y/n-” soobin’s lips hovered over yours, barely able to feel his hot breath against your skin, “lemme fill you up, huh? you want it? want me to fill you up nice ‘n full?”

“p-please- give it to me, binnie. want your cum-”

as if your permission was the trigger, soobin only lasted a few more thrusts before he bottomed out inside you with a high-pitched groan, the feeling of his warm seed instantly settling into your core. the feeling of it, however, was just as much of a trigger for you, your third orgasm of the night hitting you before you could even prepare for it – and all you could do was lay there and let it.

you pressed the knuckles of soobin’s hand – which were still intertwined with yours – against your lips, barely containing any of your pathetic whimpers and moans that your ruined orgasm forced out of you. your legs squeezed around soobin’s waist in an attempt to keep still, but there was no use against the sensitivity that overtook your body.

soobin, who had buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathed out a string of soft yet forceful moans, his stilled cock still twitching within your sensitive walls. every now and then his body shook, waves of pleasure shocking his body almost perfectly in sync with you, your orgasm no doubt heightening his own.

for a few moments, the two of you laid there; breathless, sensitive, unmoving. the silence that followed one of the loudest nights of your life was one of comfort. it wasn’t weird or awkward, like you almost expected it to be, but relaxing. like you finally felt a sense of relief after the past several months of undisturbed tension.

but the stillness of the room only lasted so long, soobin being the first to move. with a sharp wince he slowly pulled out of you, his cock carefully dragging through the walls of your throbbing pussy. even as spent as you were, you missed the full feeling.

he lifted his head up, but only enough to look you in the eyes again. he studied you carefully, his gaze scanning over every detail of your expression until you realized the way it made your heart pound. his hand reached up, and you didn’t dare move as his fingers so gently brushed some sweat-soaked strands of hair out of your face.

“i meant what i said. you’re so beautiful.” he said, his voice suddenly lowered to a whisper.

you laughed at his words, your voice coming out hoarse. “really?”

“really. seriously.”

you swallowed down the dry feeling in your throat, carefully picking out the words for a question you dreaded.

“did you mean it when you said you wanted me, too? when you said how long you wanted me for?” your voice shrank, “or did you just want sex?”

the question clearly caught soobin off guard as his eyes widened, the hand still intertwined with yours tightening slightly.

“what? y/n, are you serious?” a light chuckle escaped his lips, but he knew by reading your expression that the question was genuine. his free hand reached up and cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin.

“i like you. and it’s for so many more reasons other than sex.” he confessed carefully, “for so long i wanted you all to myself – and i mean it, when i say it.”

you felt butterflies swarm your stomach at his words, unable to hide the smile that spread over your features. you lean into the touch of his hand, partially hiding your face in it at the sudden shyness that came over you.

but in response, soobin turned your face to look right back at him, emphasizing the impact of his words with yet another kiss. this one was similar to the way the night started, with soft presses and sweet touches. you felt him smile into the kiss, and you smiled back, a powerful wave of sheer joy swelling in your chest. you felt complete.

soobin’s gentle smile beamed down at you as he pulled back, shy giggles being shared between the two of you.

“so.. does this make us official?” you asked bashfully, to which soobin responded with the soft drag of his hand, his fingers tracing down your chest and to your waist.

“well i’d hope so.” he grinned, moving to press a kiss onto your neck, “no way am i letting you go to anyone else. you’re all mine.”

as soobin enveloped you in his touch, his arms pulling back to snake around your waist and pull you into a warm embrace, he moved to lay on his side, properly able to pull you into his chest. your arms wrapped around his neck, your hands rubbing gentle circles onto the marks you left in his back earlier, and you could feel him relax just as much.

“i thought it was a stupid idea at first, but it’s good kai picked the pepero game, huh?” soobin muttered against your shoulder.

you grinned, “yeah, but it was only a matter of time until i got you to myself. i would’ve gone crazy if i didn’t.”

soobin chuckled into your skin, pressing on another kiss, “me too.”

within moments, as if you two had been doing it all your lives, you settled into each others warmth. an intimate silence filled the air as you laid there, the tense centimeters of distance that you had dealt with just hours ago finally being absolved into nothing.

god- if you had known then that this was how a round of the pepero game would end, you would’ve played it way sooner.

[orellazalonia]

Comedic Relief

Summary: After overhearing teammates call you the "comic relief" and question your seriousness, you begin to doubt your place on the team despite being a genius in disguise. Bucky finds you spiraling in your lab, reminds you of your brilliance, and confesses how deeply he values and loves you. (Bucky Barnes x chaotic!reader)

Word Count: 1.4k+

A/N: Wanted something angsty. I also debated having them run away temporarily and having Bucky find them first, but I liked how this turned out in the end. Happy reading!!!

Main Masterlist | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

You weren’t supposed to hear it.

Honestly, you never meant to. You were crawling through the ceiling vent to test your portable gravity-altering boots as one does and accidentally dropped into the hallway by the training center. You didn’t land gracefully. You bounced. Twice.

No one noticed.

You were about to make a dramatic entrance to demand “scientific respect and perhaps a sandwich” when your name floated through the crack of the door.

“She’s just… not serious,” One of the rookies was saying. “I know she’s smart, obviously, but it’s like, can you trust her in a real op? Last week she got distracted mid-mission because she thought the enemy base’s reactor looked ‘like a sexy espresso machine.’”

You could hear someone chuckle before another added, “Yeah, and she asked Fury if ‘thermonuclear’ was a made-up word.”

You blinked. That was a joke. You knew what thermonuclear meant. You’d accidentally built a thermonuclear coffee machine last year that tried to launch itself into low orbit. They made you name it and put it in a SHIELD containment box.

“Honestly, she’s more of the comic relief, you know?” Another said. “Like, she’s the team mascot. Not really part of the brain or someone you should trust.”

You weren’t sure what part of you tensed first. Maybe it was your jaw, your spine, or your heart. It wasn’t a new feeling. Not really. It was just louder this time. More final. Heavier.

Mascot.

The word stuck to you like wet concrete.

You backed away before you could hear any more of the conversation, suddenly hyperaware of every squeak of your boots and every stupid joke you’d ever made this week. The “avocado bomb” prank on Steve. The trivia challenge you crushed but then celebrated by pronouncing “Columbus” as “Co-LUMB-us.” The marble run you built through the ventilation system that made the whole compound sound like a wind chime when it rained.

God. Was that all they saw?

You didn’t go to dinner. You didn’t reply in the group chat, even when Sam tagged you and asked why Bucky was sulking in the corner muttering “Where is she?” like a pissed-off gargoyle.

You didn’t even remember walking back to the lab. Your feet had carried you here on autopilot to your safe place, your mess, your cathedral of chaos and half-finished thoughts.

You locked the door behind you, not that anyone ever came in uninvited. Not unless Bucky had something to smuggle in for you (usually food or a weapon you weren’t technically cleared to modify). Not unless Tony wanted to gawk at your entropy.

The lab lights flickered on automatically. You winced at the brightness.

You moved like a ghost, almost afraid to touch anything. Your hands hovered above your desk, your workbench, the tower of half-functional prototypes stacked like a junkyard Jenga tower. You didn’t sit. You just stared at the avalanche of yourself. Your weird, brilliant, overwhelming mind spilled out across surfaces. Wires like spaghetti. Notes written in both formulae and doodles. Gel pens next to soldering irons. A circuit board shaped like a cat.

It all looked… childish. Stupid.

What were you even doing?

You finally collapsed into your chair, spinning once, twice, then fast enough that the corners of the room blurred. You kicked off the counter and made a loop around the floor, feet dragging. The motion didn’t help. If anything, it amplified the static in your chest.

Mascot.

You blinked hard, squeezing your temples. “No. No no no. Shut up. We’re not doing this today.”

You spun to your desk. Grabbed a marker. Scrawled something on the board.

atomic weight of hydrogen: 1.00784 u. bananas are a lie. you don’t need potassium that bad. you matter. you matter. you matter.

You stared at it for a long time. Then erased “you matter” so hard the whiteboard squeaked. Your hand kept going long after the words were gone. Until it hurt.

You stood. Paced a little more. Opened a drawer. Slammed it shut. You tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, pacing faster now, muttering in a half joking, half begging, yet all unraveling way. “Who the hell builds a weather balloon to see if birds migrate better with Taylor Swift playing on a speaker? Who sets a toast-loving AI loose in the kitchen and calls it a ‘learning moment’ when it sets off four smoke alarms?”

You knocked into your shelf, and something clattered. You didn’t catch it. You didn’t care.

You backed into your chair and sank again, hands braced on your knees like gravity got heavier just for you. Your eyes burned.

“They’re right,” You said quietly. “I’m a joke. A distraction. They keep me around because it’s easier than telling me to leave.”

Somewhere behind you, the electronic calendar chimed softly:

Reminder: Tell Bucky you love him. (He already knows, but say it anyway.)

Your throat closed up.

You covered your face with both hands and curled forward, trembling. The quiet buzz of your machines felt deafening. You had built this place, crafted it like a cocoon, a temple, a home. Now it felt like a parody of genius.

You didn’t hear the knock at the door. Or the creak as it opened.

But you felt it when Bucky entered, his presence like a storm and a lighthouse all at once. Steady. Warm. Wordless.

He stood there for a moment. Watching. Taking in the wreckage. You hadn’t noticed the tears on your face until he knelt in front of you and reached up, thumb brushing just below your eye. He didn’t say anything right away. He just held you.

You weren’t even sure when your body had folded into his. One moment, you were curled in on yourself, vibrating with self-loathing, and the next, your face was buried in the crook of his neck and his arms were wrapped around you like armor. Like he could physically keep the world out if he just held on tight enough.

You gripped the front of his henley like it was the only solid thing left. It smelled like coffee and the soap he never admitted to stealing from Steve.

“I thought you were joking when you said you could feel my breakdowns in your soul,” You whispered, voice raw.

“I can,” He murmured against your hair. “Like a bat signal but sadder.”

You let out a broken sound, half sob, half laugh.

His metal hand rubbed slow, careful circles on your back; warm from the adaptive heat plates he let you install. The other hand cradled your head like you were fragile, which only made the cracks inside you widen. He never looked at you like you were fragile. Not until now.

“They think I’m a joke,” You mumbled into his chest. “They think I’m just the team jester with a few fun facts and a death wish.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“They’re not wrong.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you, not with pity, but with fire.

“You built a quantum drive in a toaster oven,” He said firmly. “You hacked an alien translator using a flashlight and a Etch A Sketch. You—” He huffed, voice breaking. “You are the only reason half this team is alive.”

You stared at him, voice stuck in your throat.

“But I make everything a joke.”

“Because that’s how you survive,” He said softly. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to be underestimated because people are more comfortable laughing at you than respecting you?”

You looked down. “I just… if I stop being funny, I’m afraid they’ll stop wanting me around.”

Bucky reached up, cupping your cheek, thumb stroking beneath your eye.

“If they can’t handle all of you, not just the jokes and chaos and weird trivia, then they don’t deserve you. But I can.” His voice was low, steady. “I love you. All of you. The ridiculous, the brilliant, the heartbreaking mess of you. You could set the tower on fire trying to build a better microwave and I’d still think you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

You blinked fast, and a soft smile tugged at your lips. “That was one time.”

“Twice,” He corrected. “And the second time, you swore it was intentional to teach Tony humility.”

You let out a breathless laugh, and he smiled. That sweet, rare smile he only ever gave you like you were something secret and sacred.

“C’mere,” He said, pulling you in again, tighter this time.

You curled into his lap and let yourself stay there, finally still, finally quiet. His hands never stopped moving, thumb tracing your spine, fingers gently combing through your hair, grounding you with every touch.

And in that moment, you didn’t feel like a mascot or a distraction.

You felt like someone loved and seen.

[lampridius]

Hey so how do you think Dan Heng, Aventurine, Anaxagoras and Paiphon would deal with their crush who typically doesn’t let anything hold them back, can come out of dangerous situations cool headed, but then they go and ask out these boys and they’re a blushing, stuttering mess? Messed up asking them out kind of. Fiddling with their clothes and giving them big eyes? Sputters out, “Oh! I forgot, it’s ok if it’s a no to my question”? (They seem to find the act of asking someone out more terrifying than facing a scary enemy. When they say yes, crush lets out the biggest sigh of relief. Like they been holding their breathe).

⋆.ೃ࿔🌸*:･ 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘬𝘢𝘪: ꒱ 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 ✴ ───────── ❝ 𝙘𝙤𝙤𝙡-𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 ❞ －𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘶𝘴 ．．• ♡︎

─ .✦ 𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀: dan heng, aventurine, anaxa, phainon ─ .✦ 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: @mauserre, @tremendoustragedybard ──── .✦ 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴 | 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 | 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 ──── .✦ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨:

they’ve seen you step out of explosions without blinking. handle high-stakes negotiations, enemy ambushes, and life-or-death decisions like they were nothing more than minor inconveniences. you're the type who dusts yourself off after chaos, shrugs, and says “i’ve had worse.”

but now? standing in front of them, your hands can’t seem to stay still, your words come out tangled and half-formed, and you look like you’d rather fight a hundred beasts than finish your sentence.

dan heng notices your fidgeting immediately. at first, he assumes something’s wrong - until your cheeks flush, and you start talking at lightning speed, only to trip over your words entirely.

“so, um, i was thinking, maybe if you're not busy- like, later, maybe we could, i don’t know, go somewhere together- just the two of us- unless that’s weird, oh! actually, it’s fine if not, i forgot to say-”

he blinks. stunned. and then it clicks.

he softens. a slow, almost bashful smile breaks across his face. “you’re asking me out?”

you nod, practically vibrating from nerves.

he pauses a beat. “then yes.”

you exhale like you’d been holding the universe inside your lungs.

he steps closer, brushing a stray thread off your sleeve. “you face down monsters without blinking. but this flusters you?”

“shut up,” you mutter, but your grin says everything.

aventurine had been watching you pace for five minutes. arms crossed, one brow lifted. he thought you were hyping yourself up for a mission - until you spun around and hit him with the most catastrophically uncoordinated attempt at confession he’d ever seen.

“you. me. uh… out. together. romantically, not like... business- though i guess if that’s how you want to interpret it, that’s fine, actually maybe not fine, unless- wait, never mind, forget it-”

he bursts into laughter. not mocking, but completely charmed.

“you? you can stare down a hostile contract and bluff your way out of a corporate ambush, but you can’t ask me to dinner without tripping over your own name?”

you flush hard. “you can say no, y’know.”

he gives you a wide, golden grin. “i’m not going to. lucky for both of us, i say yes to high-reward investments.”

and just like that, he loops an arm around your shoulder with an air of ease that makes your heart race harder than battle ever could.

anaxa is so used to your usual cool-headed bravery that seeing you twist the hem of your shirt, avoiding his eyes, makes him immediately worried. “what’s wrong?”

you mumble something, way too quiet.

“huh?”

“iwannagoonadatewithyou- uhbutifyoudon’twantto,that’sfine!”

he stares. blinks. stares again.

you look terrified, and he realizes this might be the first time you’ve truly been that.

he gently reaches out, steadying your flailing hand with his own. “you really thought i’d say no?”

you nod once, sheepishly.

he shakes his head, eyes soft, ears turning pink. “next time you wanna ask me something, try not to look like the world’s ending.”

then, quietly: “yes. of course yes.”

your shoulders slump like you just dropped a thousand-pound weight.

phainon watches you stumble over your words like a system glitch. you try to meet his eyes, fail, then stammer something like “just thought maybe- like- i mean, you’re cool, and i like you- not just like-like, but… ugh, whatever, forget it.”

he blinks, tilting his head, silent. then: “that was your attempt at asking me out?”

you nod, miserable.

he smiles - genuine, rare, warm. “yes.”

“…wait- yes? as in, you got what i was trying to say?”

“yes as in, i’d like that very much.”

you deflate. hands on your knees, one breathy “thank stars above,” and he laughs so quietly it’s barely there.

he walks beside you after that, a little closer than usual. “you act like you’d rather face orbital cannon fire than talk feelings.”

“because i would.”

he lets that hang in the air. “well,” he murmurs, “you’re lucky i can translate nerves into affection.”

[returnofeternity]

feel free to write this if you're comfortable but i just had a transfem lottienat horny thought 🤤 imagine being married to lottie who's a freak and maybe years into the marriage she opens up the idea of sharing kinks to one another to where she admits she desperately wants to see you get fucked by someone else because she finds it arousing. after a lot of talking and giving firm consent to one another (ofc!!) about exploring each other's kinks, she calls nat to come over (maybe she knew that nat had like an attraction/crush on you before or still has) so why not invite a close friend over and give her the opportunity? lottie who sits in a chair just jerking off while giving directions and new positions for nat to put you in

lottie who has imagined nat fucking you multiple times...even before she figured out that nat had a crush on you, but it just intensified afterward. she was cautious about bringing it up. she only thought about the possibility of talking to you about it once she knew that you matched her freak!! and that was years into the marriage. but all those times you'd send her videos of you riding your dildo while she was out, all those videos of you sucking your juices off it? it was always nat in mind. it was always nat fucking you while she was away from home, and it was always nat's cock you were playing with, not hers.

she makes sure you're okay with it. and i mean absolutely sure. she gives you a week to think about it. or honestly, however long you need! she's just glad she got it off her chest and glad you guys opened up about kinks. while she was talking about it, she thought she crossed the line because of how red and quiet you got, but she was just going into such detail about how often she thought about it and what she'd like if you consented to it, that it made you so horny you couldn't speak. and, god, thinking about her telling you that if you don't like who she picks, you can choose the person. it can be anyone you'd like, you can do anything you'd like. you can invite them over and start fucking before she even gets home if you'd like. and that's when you figure out she really likes the concept of you getting fucked by someone else.

she definitely tells you she picked nat in advance just to make sure you're comfortable with it. she doesn't tell you when nat is coming over, but she tells you and makes sure you're okay with it being nat :) and she's over the moon when you consent, and she just has to thank you over and over again by making gentle love to you as a sign of appreciation.

thinking of her already sitting in the cuck chair when nat gets there. you've been on her lap, nervously giggling about how excited she looks as you talk about what she wants you to do. when nat arrives, she tells you to answer the door and let nat in, and when you get back, she's already fully undressed and smiling at the both of you.

"what am i allowed to do?" nat asks, her hands grabbing your hips to scoot you closer to her on the bed.

both of you are completely naked, so is lottie, and when you take your eyes off nat's eager face to look over to her on the chair, you can see her cock twitch at the sight of another woman's hands on your body.

"anything." lottie breathes out, hand jerking off her wet cock.

you hear nat mumble "nice" to herself before she pulls you in by the neck for a messy kiss, her tongue brushing against your lips for entrance. she shoves it inside and flicks her tongue against yours, and your stomach tightens as you hear the sound of the chair scraping against the floor as lottie tries to get a closer look.

the feeling of nat's tip barely ghosting over your pussy makes you feel needy, and you reach down, grab her dick, and rub it against your clit. nat groans against your lips and pushes her hips forward, the feeling of her cock finally between your folds making her leak more pre-cum.

"you should suck her off," lottie comments, staring at nat's cock touching your pussy like she's in a trance. "show her how good you are at it."

you nod, and nat bites her lip as she sits down and watches you get off the bed and down to your knees in front of her. her thighs shake as you run your hands along them, and you find it hot how her cock twitches as you begin to place tiny kisses on her thigh.

"shit." nat lifts her hips as your lips get closer to her cock, and she can't help but guide you to it, having enough of your teasing.

the second your lips wrap around her cock, she's experiencing euphoria. your mouth feels so warm and so good, and she leans back onto her arms and sighs, her barely open eyes watching you bob up and down on her length. she glances over at lottie, her hand working fast as she jerks herself off, and lets out a tired chuckle.

she was right; you are good at sucking cock.

[killishin]

domestic hcs with dick grayson

here's the jason one.

again, heavily inspired by prompts from this post by @novelbear (her prompts always manage to get my mind running)

dividers by @cafekitsune

dick was someone you couldn't help but love immediately. you had an instant crush on him, your friendship was even better. his charm was always something you couldn't resist. to everyone else the tension was crystal clear, if not suffocating. so it wasn't a surprise when you got together with him, just a bunch of relieved sighs.

it didn't take much time before both of you fell into a tandem, like in sync. he just knew what you needed, when you needed. his way of loving was open and free, he didn't shy away from loving you loudly, it wasn't annoying— it made you feel utterly loved.

living with him had its surprises everyday, it was the little things, it always made you sleep with a smile. domesticity was like a blessing with a person like dick.

and those little moments were as sweet as they were silly.

"dick no! don't do that!" you quietly groaned yet instead of moving your head away you further leaned back. you were sat on the floor while dick was on the couch with you between his legs. his hands were carding through your hair, his nails scratching your scalp gently— its a bliss, pure bliss. you always doze off when he does that.

"do what?" he asked amusingly as he tilted your head back for a second to see your helpless smile. he then looked up to see what you were browsing through before seeing you stop at that one series that you always slept through.

"this again?" he scoffed as his hands stopped, "you always fall asleep half way through an episode."

you fake an inaudible gasp in offence as you jab at his leg with your elbow, "i do not."

"i speak with evidence." he has taken several pics of you sleeping open mouthed every time you doze off while watching that show.

"well— well you always do this whenever we're watching that." you point to his hands in your hair, "so its your fault that i sleep. technically."

"that so?" he muses as he leans down to catch your eyes, "so i should stop hm? " he begins to pull away before you hold them at their place.

"i will murder you."

he simply laughs under his breath which you ignore as you pretend to focus on the show, and he decided that instead of brushing your hair, he'll braid. so he does, and it turns out very pretty and neat too.

but then he realises the slight weight on his thigh, and thats when he notices your head lolling to the side, completely squishing a cheek against his thigh. he looks up and like he said, the episode isn't even halfway done.

despite the urge to be smug about his words, his eyes are fond as he peers down at you, poking at your puffed cheek gently. he leans down and presses a kiss on your forehead, admiring you for a moment longer.

a million thoughts running through his mind and yet he stops at one.

he takes out his phone and takes endless pics from every embarrassing angle imaginable.

after all, evidence.

a vigilante's life isn't easy. nights are spent cleaning up the streets, sniffing out the criminals— then there are tough nights where they are lucky to leave in one piece. its demanding, excruciating. so a lot of his time is understandably dedicated to it.

but he is also dedicated to you, so he always directs his full attention to you when you come back from a tiring day at work, full of gossips and complaints. and he's happy to hear them all.

like right now, you're chattering away about some office gossip, all animated and hurried while sitting on the counter with dick standing in between your thighs. he's holding a pint of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in another. his brows are furrowed in absolute concentration, like he's hanging onto every word you're saying.

and he is, of course, but his attention is divided by your lips. they're too distracting!

"that guy is such an asshole you know—" you stopped as he fed you a spoon, and you gulped it down quickly to continue, "he always used to pick on me, but after that complaint— i thought he might have straightened up but nooo-" another spoon. "now, he's picking on some poor new guy."

"a real piece of work." dick scoffed and you nodded, "i know right!" you licked the side of your lips, getting that cream off and dick swears under his breath, his jaw clenching a mere second.

"oh yes! you know Sal? the one who threw coffee at—"

"yes cheating ex boyfriend in the cafe opposite to your office." he completed as he held the spoon, brows still furrowed as he tried his best to not stare at your lips.

"yes!" you gulped down before continuing again, "yes her. so.." forgive him for doing this. after feeding you he licked the spoon slowly, yet innocently all while holding contact. he knows exactly what he's doing.

you paused at your words as your brows furrowed, "her.... what are you doing?" your eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion. you'd be an idiot to not know that look by now.

"what? im just listening to my pretty lover." he answered innocently, the corner of his lips almost tugging up.

"ah i get it." you chuckle under your breath as you shake your head and he simply appears confused, though a laugh escapes him too. "what? can i not call my lover pretty?"

"oh you coy little thing." you grinned as you hooked a finger on the collar of his tshirt and pulled him close.

"little? hey im bigger—"

"shut it."

you liked cooking on your day offs, you could take your time and experiment. it helped to unwind from the week's stress. so you kept dick away from the kitchen until everything's done to not add onto that stress.

"dick?" you called out gently and upon hearing no reply, your brows furrow as you lean your weight on your other foot while your hand rested on your hip, "grayson!" this one wasn't so gentle.

"i said im coming!" he called out frantically, his rushed steps stopping right in front of you, a small over dramatic pout on his face.

"did you?"

"i did!"

his pout deepened when you gave him a unimpressed side eye. "anyway, taste this for me hm?" you look back down at the piping hot food you made, taking a spoonful before raising it to your lips to blow on it.

he had literal heart eyes as he awaited patiently, he loved your food. says he's the number one fan, and compliments every time you cook. he was the one who told alfred about your "magnificent" skills, his words, and thanks to him, you got tons of little tips from alfred.

after blowing on it a few times you raised it to his lips, holding another hand right under his chin while he leaned down. it may be a small thing but this particular moment, whenever you made him taste your food, like this, it made his heart flutter worse than when he confessed.

"sweet god thats amazing!" he moaned, almost obscenely and you cringe at it before your eyes went to the little broth trickling down the side of his lips.

"the sounds you make.." you tutted as you wiped the broth off his lips and licked your thumb.

he froze.

his eyes stayed stuck to your lips for a moment, his ears tuning out everything else as blood rushed to his face.

"shit that was hot." he mumbled to himself as he exhaled heavily while rubbing his eyes and you paused to look at him in confusion.

"but i blew on it."

"what? no not the food—" he paused to give you a pointed look, "are you acting coy or are you seriously that dense?"

"hey im not dens—"

but he was a fast man, always was. immediately turning off the stove he grabbed you by your hips and hoisted you up before settling you on the counter. your eyes widened but before you could protest his mouth was already on yours, urgent and heated.

maybe you were dense.

dick grayson's love language is physical touch. but its not just that he likes touching his partner, but he feels safe feeling them close, he needs the warmth to ground himself, anchor himself to them so his demons won't tear him apart.

and that, follows to bed. he's a very cuddly sleeper. he needs to feel some part of you while sleeping, and its beyond a habit now. its like second nature to him.

sometimes he's draped over you, or the other way around. sometimes he curls in your arms like a little fluff ball, he likes being held too. but most times he has an iron grip around your waist. barely ever lets go, even when you have to pee.

"i have to pee— dick let go." you sleepily groan as you swat at his arm but its like an immovable rock. he simply groans in his sleep before going quiet and you mentally cry, because your bladder is begging you. how can a vigilante be such a heavy sleeper?

he isn't, he hears you but he truly doesn't want to let go.

"dick babe let go i really gotta pee come on." you whine as you pry his arm off, try to. he further nuzzles his face in your shoulder while pulling you even more closer, if that was even possible with the negligent space between you two.

but upon continous pestering, when his sleep was offically ruined he lets you go with something thats between a grumble and a whine.

"what are you doing out of bed?" he asked as if you didn't just tell him that a hundred times.

"for the love of god, i need to pee."

"come fast."

"i might just sleep in the bathroom."

your job might not be as demanding and life-threatening like his, but it does make you rise up way too early for your comfort.

and somehow, for some unknown reasons to you, he likes to be a little shit in the morning. it wasn't intentional at first, but when he saw the annoyed little frown at your face that was more like a pout to him, it made his heart crash. and laugh evil like a maniac.

"dick get the hell out of there!" you yell as you pound at the bathroom door, rubbing your face helplessly before whining again.

“i told you i have a meeting in an hour! get out of the bathroom!” you bang your fists at the door again before looking up at the ceiling as if praying to every power in the universe to give you patience and strength. strength to beat the crap out of him.

"dick i swear to god I'll kill—" you stumble as he suddenly opens the door, not even bothering to feign innocence, instead he's grinning wide and toothy.

"you jerk." you inhale slowly as you point a finger at him, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

"yes my love?" he has the audacity to say before leaning down and resting his chin on the tip of your finger, tilting his head a bit with that mischievous glint in his eyes that you so love.

"you do this everytime im late! deliberately! " you accuse and he just laughs before wrapping his arms around your waist as if to gather you up from the floor.

"i do? well im so sorry." he said with the most cheeky smile ever and your glare deepens. "this isn't a laughing mat– hey- hey stop it—"

he starts to lean down and pepper kisses all over your face, even when you bend away he follows right over, his hand splayed on your back to support you.

"im sorry." a small peck, "really really sorry." a proper kiss, "forgive me?" bombards you with kisses.

well... he sure is lucky he has an adorable face. damn him.

but you're just as chaotic as him, maybe you weren't before but people in a healthy relationships do learn a thing or two from their partner.

and so did you.

"babe! babe!" dick comes rushing, his eyes scanning the whole room with frantic eyes, before stopping at the washing machine. horror and panic seeped in his eyes as he saw the machine was rinsing the clothes at the moment, draining the water out.

"did you just put my hoodie in the wash?" he asked, praying you didn't. you raised a brow before putting a hand on your hip, "yeah? why? it had a stain remember?"

"love, my phone was in there!" he immediately rushed to the machine, switching it off before opening it.

"dick what the hell—"

he rummaged through, his hands getting all wet till his forearms while the panic in his eyes increased. but he couldn't feel his phone in there, his brows furrowed and he turned to you in confusion. but paused at the sight of you biting your lips, wheezing quietly.

"wha— where's my pho—" you slowly pulled his phone from your pocket, holding it up. silence ensued as he stared at you deadpanned while you cackled loudly.

and then you both bolted.

"you're such an idiot oh my god!" you laughed as tears blurred your vision while you ran for your life, around the living room with him quick on his feet.

"stop running baby its just a matter of when." he called out, eerily calm and you let out a helpless groan before sprinting for the bedroom.

and you had the wishful thinking that you'd outrun your vigilante boyfriend.

his arm hooked around your waist and he yanked you back towards him, your back hitting his chest. your clothes got damp due to his arms still being wet.

"nooo! no you got my clothes wet!" you groaned through your giggles. his smile widened at the sound of your laugh, cheeks reddening and heart warming.

"yeah baby? should have thought this through you know." he murmured amusingly against your ear, making you squirm in his hold.

he swiftly turned you around before grabbing your face, with his wet hands and smashed his lips on yours before you could yell at him. you could feel him smiling against your lips, making the butterflies go all chaotic. you didn't even register the soft moan that escaped your lips and he pulled away with a chuckle, his mischievous eyes filled with delight and mirth.

he pecked your lips again before booping your nose, "we're even now."

dick may have his charm on most of the time, his confidence unwavering. but there are also times when he is nervous.

"im home!"

you got up from your bed and walk out of the bedroom with a soft smile on your lips.

"hey— oh! whats that?" your eyes widen before you rush to him, staring at the bouquet of lillies with awe.

he brushes his hair back before rubbing his nape with a hesitant smile, his eyes darting from your face to the flowers that you take in your hand. "you were talking about that table there being a little...bare, so i got you some flowers to put in it's space."

his eyes pause at your face, a small smile coming on his lips, one filled with fondness. he was nervous, what if you won't like it? what if it doesn't look good at that particular place? he hides those concerns behind that pretty smile.

you look up at him and your smile widens helplessly. you keep the bouquet aside on the coffee table before wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him close.

"aren't you the sweetest?"

"yeah?"

you hum before pecking his cheeks, his nose and finally his lips. "you like em?" he tilts his head, and behind the assured smile is a need to make sure, make sure that he is indeed loving you right.

"mhm."

dick lives for those over the top, dramatic confessions of love, kissing under the rain, getting you all charmed with ease— but these small, sweet and slow moments... they stick in his mind. they stay and carve out a special place in his heart.

and a silly yet sweet domestic life is all he wants, all with you.

"by the way did you finish that show I've been wanting to see since a week...all by yourself?"

"....yeah about that—"

NOTE: somehow this one became longer than jason's.

reblogs are appreciated! :D

[after-thought]

A thing that f*#ked me up this week... I watched a documentary focused on recent Hubble telescope photos of many new galaxies both older and more complex than previous thought possible. It turns everything we thought to know about our universe and how it was created on its head. It made a very articulate argument that this points to the conclusion that our universe exists within a black hole... We exist in a bubble beyond the event horizon of a black hole within a larger universe.

I feel some kind of powerful way about this that I can't quite parse.

Grief, maybe. Dreadful knowing. Immeasurable loneliness.

We are the aftermath of destruction of everything. Cut off. Sealed beneath a scar in fabric of the real universe. We are a festering wound. Unable to be seen - reached - beyond that membrane. Our begining arose from a horrific ending. Made from the scattered ashes of crushed universes - torn apart molecule by molecular to be our building blocks. Their tragedy is our birth.

I have sat in night and stared at stars and imagined it to be freedom - the false lid of a perfect sky of daytime removed to reveal the truth - an endless vast expanse of possibility. Yet, it is a jar inside a jar. We cannot even begin to imagine the truth of the world beyond our bubble.

It makes a kind of sense when even birth is an act of violence - tearing of flesh and breaking of bone - and we had no say in it but still our existence is insistent on it. Never free of the violence.

To eat... I heard even mushrooms scream in their own way - warning vast networks when we pluck them. Yet we can't exist but through consumption - destroying to sustain.

Of course we are a black hole. Of course we are.

[tinytennisskirt]

Push to Shove

virgin! art donaldson x stanford! reader- based on req here!

summary: tired of the imbalance of lust over love and general lack of real feelings in modern relationships, your best friend quite literally launches you into a meet-cute mess that turns into something unexpectedly real. he’s sweet, kind, quite obviously likes you, but there’s a catch. he’s a virgin.

warnings: lots of kissing, a good amount of fluff/relationship, meet-cute, rambunctious and loud best friend, smut! oral sex, mutual receiving but mostly reader, learning experience. heavy petting. grinding against the bed. inexperienced, nervous, virgin art ;) notes app fic, unedited.!

you’d always been the kind of girl who swore out of highschool, she would date and find someone and just settle and be done. love, real love. it was a comfort, it helped you focus on your grades and school, pushing you toward a scholarship at stanford. love was a good thought, something to look forward to.

you worked your ass off those four years and you got along by having crushes, maybe a date once or twice, but nothing good. mostly odd kisses with guys here and there, out in inconvenient places, the way teenaged boys make you do. it was never good, it was never right, never fun, and you never wanted them to touch you. in fact, if they tried, your reflexes often ended up whacking them in the head.

you grew out of that by grade twelve, thankfully, but no boy had ever even gotten close to touching you that way. you continued to throw yourself into your schoolwork. you tried not to think about how all guys wanted to do was touch you, praying that college men were different.

you got that scholarship, but decided to let it pend while you worked and interned for two years. those years were formative, making you into a woman no longer afraid of intimacy, still- nothing was ever good. guys out of high school weren’t any better at kissing or trying not to touch. nothing was ever satisfying. the only climaxes you’d experience were at your own hand or the bathtub faucet. it was admittedly, a little sad, but you were a charlotte, turning yourself into a hopeless romantic.

you’d journal before bed, then think heavily on the idea of someone loving you enough to touch you with the intent of making you feel good. you’d had sex (all the way) with two men, each only once- and still, you had no idea what to do other than lay still and wait for it to be over. there was shitty foreplay, asking for more from you, then jabbing you with two fingers way too high. not once had you felt any pleasure from it, though every blog said good sex is possible, enjoyable, even. that your boyfriends should be in tune with you.

in the end, you’d ended up sore on one lip, irritated and disheveled. almost like it was bruised from how little they paid attention to how you felt. you prayed there was hope, that there was more. broke up with both of them a few weeks after, worried there was a pattern.

“have you tried touching yourself during?” your friend bella asked, a little too loud for the campus book store.

you’d just finally gotten to the right place in life, finally enrolled in stanford. your best friend bella had done the same thing as you, so of course, she was there with you as your roommate.

you giggled, “a little quieter, bells?”

“sorry,” she giggled in response. “but like- it’s supposed to be good, but you said it just feels like… poking?”

“it’s so bad! i feel like it’s just a pole and the rooms always so cold or too hot and it’s just awkward. if i try to get off by his hand or mouth it’s just in the wrong place all the time. every time.”

“i can treat you right, babygirl,” bella teased, poking you in the ribs. “my god, $150 for a textbook with 200 pages?”

“bellaaaa,” you groaned. “can we do a spell or manifestation later so I can cleanse myself of this horrible… feeling and maybe have someone good, who likes me and wants me that way…”

bella smiled, “you’re one of the most gorgeous people i know, you’re bound to find someone, somewhere. all meet-cute.”her eyes flit around you both as you walk the aisles. “you deserve it, I know that, you know that, it’ll find you if it’s meant for you.”

“i don’t want to wait around, though.” You sighed. “I want to be loved, not just lusted after, so that when there is lust, I can love it.”

“write that down.”

“stoppp,” you laughed, exasperated. “I don’t want to wait, i need a push from the universe or something. a clear sign of which way to go forward. modern dating is so… evil. people sleep with everyone, there’s no commitment, people end up so temporary, i hate it.”

she groaned, “don’t even get me started on it again, you remember how long i went on last time.”

you nodded. “but i need a push.”

her eyes peered around the corner before you turned. her hands extended from her body and with a genuine, real push, she sent you off in one direction. it wasn’t hard or violent, just enough to make you lose your balance. you felt the impact of yourself against someone else and scrambled to collect yourself. “i’m so sorry-“

there was a chuckle. it was a guy. you looked up. he was cute. this was bad. “no, i’m sorry- was that my fault?” he asked, eyes meeting yours. his eyebrows knit together just slightly, concerned. you looked around, a little confused, but your eyes landed on what appeared to be a gym bag on the floor. he thought you’d tripped.

you laughed, completely embarrassed, “no, not at all. i actually just- my friend shoved me.”

“oh,” he nodded, a grin spreading up his face. it was gorgeous. he had perfect teeth, perfect features. perfect golden blonde curls. “was there a reason- or- does she just like to-“ he gestures vaguely.

“i think she likes to,” you nodded, pressing your lips together. “but no, i think she thought you were cute.”

“so she pushed… you?”

“she thought you were cute for me. she thought that i would find you cute.”

“okay,” he nodded, pressing his tongue to his cheek. it wasn’t cocky- with his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, it came off almost nervous. he was gorgeous, there was no way he could be nervous, not… talking to you. but he straightened it out, and then it was cocky. “do… you?”

you were almost taken aback by the ask. “do i what?” you stumbled.

“find me cute,” he finished. he seemed half-nervous.

you felt your ears start to warm, “i do.” you admit, smiling, but nervous. “it was nice to meet you.” you dismissed yourself, nodding and starting back.

“can i have your facebook?” he prompted, just before you turned the corner. you stopped, slowed, and looked back at him. “you do have facebook, right?”

“can i have yours?”

“do you want mine?” he smiled, rocking back and forth, hands in his pockets. it was so unusual to see someone so smug, yet shy. it was kind of endearing. and he was asking for your facebook.

“i do, yeah,” you walked back up to him, standing in front of him. you pulled out your notebook from your tote bag and gave him a pen. he chuckled to himself, leaning against the shelving to write it down. “thank you.”

“anytime.” he grinned. he had gorgeous dimples.

you looked at the paper, “see you around, donaldson64.”

“okay-“ he grinned wider, looking away. “art donaldson. i’m… art.”

you fought a smile, “like arthur?” you asked.

“to my mom, maybe.” he scrunched his nose.

“okay, arthur.” his ears were pink, you wondered if they’d been that way the whole time or if it was fresh. he rubbed the back of his neck again, grinning sheepishly. “i’m y/n.”

“nice to meet you,” and he was sweet.

“sorry about the whole shoving thing,” you repeated, tucking your notebook back in your bag. he handed you back your pen. “bye, arthur.” you smiled at him just once more, head tilted just slightly, trying to read him as you passed him, exiting the opposite end of the aisle that you’d come from.

you weren’t even five feet from him when bella near-tackled you, pulling you away, laughing so loud you were sure he heard. at least it proved to him that the shoving thing was real. she loved you, it was all in good fun, you’d do the same to her on a regular day. she gave you the grace of getting a good amount away from him before grabbing your hands. “that was amazing.” she giggled.

and you actualized the whole thing. “kinda was.” you smiled. “he’s nice.”

“i’ve never seen you talk to any guy like that before,” she praised. “his face, my god, he was so into you.”

“you could see?”

“would you have minded your business?”

“true,” you giggled in return. “we need to get back to the dorm.”

“so soon?”

“need to add him on facebook.”

the two of you only stopped for coffee on the way back. bella went on about his eyes, how he looked at you- she was the worlds nosiest best friend, but you loved her anyway. you went home and went through his facebook. and oh my god.

“why the fuck is his best friend so hot?” bella gawked. “i want to sit on his nose, y/n, can you get us a double date? i will literally pay for your half of our italy vacation if you can get me a date-“

“-bells, bells-“ you laughed, “stop, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. i haven’t even pressed add friend.”

“do it?”

you shook your head, “look at this picture of him and his mom. a birthday post and every word is sweet and kind and not even in the way where you wonder if he’s too close with her. and she’s so beautiful-“

“y/n, he’s perfect, press the button. message him.”

“one thing at a time,”

“sorry, i just really need his friend.” you both laughed. you scrolled down to the bottom of his facebook where there were some cheesy little posts with cheesy captions. pictures with his friends, his backyard, his childhood dog that passed away. he seemed genuine. “just say hi. he liked you, it won’t change a thing to start the conversation.”

she was right. so you did, you added him. and about twenty minutes later, your computer pinged that he had made you his facebook friend in return. and he messaged you first.

art: hey! got home and saw u added me, how are you?

you giggled out loud, jumping into the chair, bella getting up to stand behind you.

you typed back:

you: hi arthur :)

you: i’m goood, how are you?

he replied quickly,

art: i’m good :)

art: buy anything @ the book store?

bella leaned her head back and howled, “he’s yours, my god! wants to talk books. he’s yours! go get him.”

“how do we know it’s not performative?”

you: unfortunately not :( you??

art: textbook :( nothing fun

art: but it was nice to meet u

bella giggled like a creature. “mmmm.”

“shut up.”

you: nice to meet you too :)

“ask him out? jump on him? climb him?”

“bella!” you giggled, “- okay, what do i say?”

“let me,” she said, taking over the keyboard. she was basically an extension of you. no harm done, you watched her type it out.

art: do u have a boyfriend?

bella gasped, stopping, then aggressively backspacing, then typing,

you: no, you?

you giggled, “i was just about about to type that out!”

“i know,” she cackled, moving away from the keyboard. “it says he’s seen it.” you covered your eyes, then peeked again, your heart picking up just a little. god, he was cute, he was into you and you could actually read it, instead of having to dig or look for clues.

“so, the push…” she said, eyes knowing. “i chose well.”

“think so.”

art: that was good, lol

art: no boyfriend.

you: girlfriend

art: no. you?

you smiled. actually smiled. at the screen. and you couldn’t contain any of your excitement- your fingers flew,

you: are you free later?

no response. you and bella were holding your breath. she didn’t even have anything funny to say, caught in the same suspense as you.

art: i am :) what did you have in mind?

bella whooped, jumping around behind you. “my god! he’s perfect.”

“bella, we don’t know that much-“

“he’s perfect.”

your heart beat just a tiny bit faster, your chest pressing with anticipation. oh, but you had to think of a place-

and after carefully brainstorming five minutes, you asked him if he wanted to meet down by the pizza place near the old-fashioned theatre. he doubled down and asked if you wanted to go there. and it was a date.

“it’s so fast-“ you covered your mouth, looking at art’s last,

art: see you at eight !

bella just opened your dresser drawers, “it’s meet-cute. and bonus, we don’t have to spend tonight manifesting. i think we’re out of the pink candles either way.”

“we need a red candle anyway,” you chuckled, flopping back on your bed. “he’s so sweet, seeming, but he’s so… hot. guys like that are hit or miss.”

“you’re being so negative, what happened to your upbeat giggling?” she said, looking through the top drawer. “this is fun. all of it. i shoved you into him, don’t take it so seriously.”

“he seems so nice.”

she shrugged, “just ask all the important questions.”

“like?”

“how many inches,” she stuck out her tongue, teasing. you just shoved your head further into your pillow. “okay, sorry for being freaky, i know. but you know- what he likes, dislikes, ask him about family and maybe see how he talks about his mom. see if he has sisters. oh- and ask about his friend.”

you rolled your eyes, “you and his friend.”

“can’t hurt. but those questions and-“ she tossed you a pair of lacy black underwear, “- see if you still like him after that. goodnight kiss, more than that…”

“i don’t know about casual sex,” you sighed.

“that’s totally okay, but just keep in mind how disappointed you were committing to those other gross ‘poles’.” she said. “this way, if he turns out to be bad, you won’t have to worry about it down the road in terms of the mess.”

you thought it over. were you really at this point? you were a romantic, you wanted the good, soft things that came with romance, and wanted it decently dirty. enough for you. were you really looking to stoop this low? over sex? it was conflicting, wanting both. it kind of seemed impossible in this day and age. “if it goes that way then… yeah.” you nod, slowly. “then it depends on what kind of guy he is.”

“yeah,” she agreed. “if that’s what you’re okay with.”

“do you have an extra razor?”

“i just bought apple cinnamon aftershave.”

“i love you.”

several hours later, a forty minute shower included, hair dry and sitting in a way you were kind of proud of, you were outside the pizza place. you didn’t wear anything too crazy, kept it comfortable with a sweater and skirt, but that pretty underwear underneath for options. your heart was beating hard, the excitement settling in your fingertips.

it was 7:57 when he showed up, hands in his pockets, grin on his face. somehow you let it slip your mind just how gorgeous he was. it kind of hit you like a shock that he was here to see you. he stepped over to you, “hi. how are you?”

“i’m good,” you smiled. “how are you?”

“hungry,” he said, scrunching his nose a little. “so, are we eating here or did you want to walk around?”

and you and art got your pizza slices and walked around the campus streets, just talking. you pretended you hadn’t seen every photo on his facebook and he told you about tennis, what he’s in school for, his scholarship, his friends- but only after you asked him. everything else was being asked about you. he asked about your classes, how you like them, then asked about your hobbies. you told him them all and he had something to say about each one, making connections to his mom or something he heard or read in book or show about said hobby.

he was good at the back and forth stuff, so good, that you talked right through the first half of your movie before you realized.

“ooh, we are late to our movie,” you said, giggling, covering your smile. he grinned, dimples on display, then lowered his head, laughing. “we can try? see if they’ll let us in?”

“sure,” he agreed, looking back up at you. he breathed out, eyes settling on yours. and for a second you thought maybe he’d kiss you. and that’s when you realized that you actually, really wanted him to. but like he was nervous, his grin got a little crooked and his eyelashes fluttered, unable to hold your gaze. “you coming?”

you blinked away the tension and hopped into a step, following. the theatre let you in late, the theatre was pretty much empty anyway. art didn’t seem much like the type to talk during movies, but he kept coming up with ideas as to what the context of certain things were with half the movie unknown and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“do you think he looks like jeff buckley?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

“yes and no,” you replied. “it’s so weird to see him not being dan humphrey.”

“gossip girl,” he chuckled, his face falling into his palm, then wagging his pointer finger as he spoke downwards, “i was trying to figure out where i knew him from.”

you couldn’t help but laugh out loud, “you know gossip girl?”

he didn’t look at you, just rubbed his eye, “yeah,” he grinned sheepishly. “my mom and aunt love it, it’s all they talk about when she’s over.”

“wow,” you grinned, sort of overwhelmed by how perfect he was. there had to be some sort of catch, some sort of flaw. you just knew it had to be hidden somewhere in the obvious. “so are you like a serena guy or a blair guy?”

he shook his head, “blair, but only blair when she’s with dan. her best version so far.”

“you’re kidding,” you gasped, having the sudden urge to reach for his hand. instead you grabbed the arm rest. he grinned like it was all embarrassing. “i said that to bella-“ he knew who bella was now, “- and she acted like i was crazy. i love them as a couple.”

“yeah?”

your breath caught, “yeah.”

when the movie ended and the people cleared, it was late. almost midnight. the streets were dry, the air warm, but the breeze cool. it blew your hair around your face as you walked out the theatre doors. he held them for you. the rectangular bulbed sign buzzed above you, a dim, low yellow after the students living across the street complained about the brightness. it was nice. soft.

and his hands were in his pockets, and you were talking about ‘last goodbye’, versus ‘grace’, turning just around the edge of the theatre, right under that sign. you leaned against the wall. “they’re equal to me, different reasons.” you said. he matched you, leaning opposite. “last goodbye for bittersweet, grace for sad and… loud about it.”

“that’s exactly it, yeah,” he chuckled, looking up at you. and you couldn’t take it anymore. you looked back, meeting his eyes, and smiling. he ran a hand over his face, smiling down at his feet. “i-“ he started, then looked back up. “you’re really pretty.”

your heart jumped, “what, you just noticed now?”

“no,” he replied quickly, his smile growing more shy by the second.

“i’m kidding. thank you. so are you.” you said, stepping just a little closer. his back pressed against the wall, leaving you at his side, he then turned back like it was a bad move. you giggled, “are you okay?”

he chuckled, “noooo,” he admit, rocking back and forth on his heels a little. “i’m… short-circuiting a bit-“ he cleared his throat, sincere, “i really like you.”

your heart pounded and you could hear your blood in your ears, but you stepped closer, just by a little more. he didn’t step back. didn’t move anywhere else. you couldn’t hide how wide your smile was in return. “really?”

“i want to see you again- will i see you again?”

“i’d like tha-“

“can-“ you weren’t even finished with the sentence when he spoke over you for the first time the entire evening. he was an amazing listener- he was also very open, you knew the answer to every important question. you couldn’t finish what you were saying- “sorry- you were talking-“

“no it’s fine, what were you-“

“can i kiss you?”

you didn’t even say yes, you kissed him. arms around his neck, pulling him in, kissing him. and he kissed you back. no falter, no learning, no trying to match your pace, he just kissed you. and it was perfect.

he was good. it would be alarming if he wasn’t so pretty- you assumed he’d had his fair share of practice, but none of it mattered, he was kissing you back. two hands on your waist, sliding down to your hips, pulling you close.

his kiss wasn’t urgent or hot, it was somehow just easy, pleasant, and subtly addictive that sent you both spinning against the wall in that alleyway beside the cinema. the sensory was unlike anything you’d ever felt in any first kiss. it wasn’t too cold, too warm, he didn’t smell bad, didn’t taste bad either, it wasn’t too open or painfully private. it was kind of just… the best.

the push and pull of it was perfect, pressing against, swaying for moments off the wall, and then gently, slowly, mutually, you pulled away. and he grinned, wide, chuckling low.

you tucked your hair behind your ears, “i really like you too.”

“wow.” he breathed. “can i-“ he cupped your face and kissed you again. you felt the warmth of it spread over you again, like a bath drawn, bubbly. and you couldn’t help it, kissing him back, that the laughter escaped between your lips and his. but you kissed him. and he kissed you, and then he laughed.

“i’m sorry-“

“no, don’t be sorry,” you breathed, giggling still. “i’ve never been kissed like that ever in my life-“

“yeah?” his face lit up a little. he was a little too aware of his own tells. “no?”

“no,” you echoed. “i’m free thursday night? but now, if you wanted to come back to my dorm, my roommate is out-“ a test. maybe not.

he rubbed his eye again and chuckled a little, “i’m not-um - i don’t expect anything from you… like that.” and he chose his fate.

you were tinged by embarrassment, but he was so kind about it, it made it easy to swallow. “and that’s okay.” you nodded with a gentle smile. “will i see you thursday?”

“can i kiss you again?”

“thursday?”

“no, now,” he replied. and you nodded, so he stepped again, grabbed you gently by your jaw, and kissed you, just a few more times. a few more completely wonderful, floating-on-air, dizzying kisses.

and then he walked you back to your dorm, one hand in his pocket and the other bumping yours until you let it intertwine. only for three minutes, talking the whole way.

“goodnight, arthur.” you said, cheekily.

like he was awestruck, “goodnight.” and you only kissed him on the cheek then.

bella was told about the entire thing while she and you shared sliced up salami and goat cheese. she listened, wide-eyed, then howled, then gasped, then shrieked and got up and jumped and then shook you, and then stood on a stepping stool for you to re-enact how he kissed you the second time, because she just HAD to understand. you couldn’t stop thinking about him. you made sure to thank bella for the shove before you both drifted off.

you thought about it the whole next day, along with the thought about his fatal flaw. there had to be something. maybe it was that he’s actually really bad, like a serial killer or something and that’s why he’s so perfect, likes all the things you like and is such a good kisser… it’s insane. the places your mind goes to try and wrap your head around the fact maybe there’s someone right for you. it’s almost too good to be true.

you and bella wrote a list. it’s pretty bad. but soon enough, he’s at your door and you’re smiling like there isn’t a chalkboard with his name on it behind you. “hi.”

“hey.”

he was wearing a blue-green shirt, sleeves rolled up the elbow, and jeans. “do you want… to come down to the court with me?” he held up two rackets and a small bouquet of purple flowers.

you bite your lip, shaking your head. he’s so sweet. too sweet. “i am the worst you will probably ever see.”

“my pitch is that we get food first. your choice, i pay.”

“where did you come from?” you giggled. and then you spend the hours of 3pm to 12pm talking, laughing, going out to eat. it was nice, and you’d yet to kiss once this time. you didn’t want to admit you were thinking about it. wanting him to. you hoped he could read your mind.

it was midnight when you actually made it to the court. the lights were on overhead, illuminating the court, but leaving everything surrounding plunged in darkness and far off lights. it started easy, hitting the ball back and forth. but you were so bad he had to move you onto his side of the net to practice the basics.

“okay, i feel like this is your dealbreaker and i’m failing miserably,” you sighed, laughing. “do you like a girl who can play tennis?”

“yes, but the one i currently… like… isn’t the best i’ve ever seen. not the worst, either.”

“so, I’m not going pro?” you asked, stepping closer to him. you looked at him the way you did, always before he looked away, nervous and amused.

“not yet,” he nodded, tossing his racket down. “with practice, maybe?”

“oh, i need lessons,” you tsked, putting your racket down and leaning against the net pole. “you’re really good.”

“it’s like eighteen years of playing that’s gotten me where i am. not your fault. and you’re better than your first swing, so that’s… progress?” he smiled his lively, crooked grin. you looked over his face, features lit only by the big lights overhead. the overwhelming urge to kiss him came over you again. it was a little confusing, maybe, that you’d been hanging out for about nine hours and he hadn’t so much as tried to kiss you, but the other night it was so much… more. you wondered if maybe this was his flaw.

“i really want to kiss you,” he admitted, like he read your mind. one of his arms was folded over his chest, his other elbow resting against it, he was fidgeting with his lower lip. you couldn’t help that your face softened in a slight surprise and maybe gave away just how eager you’d been to kiss him. “can i kiss you?”

“in exchange for another tennis lesson, maybe?”

“sounds fair,” he nodded, stepping closer. his ears were pink, flushed the same as his upper cheeks. he was nervous still. gently, his hands found your waist, and then he closed the space between you. you giggled into it, quickly silenced by the way he pressed his lips to yours. it was sweet- no tongue, no anything. and he pushed just slightly against you, pulling you close, and with the net behind you, you both did a good little flip, right onto the other side.

you shrieked and giggled as you both toppled right over it. he lay on his back, winded, and you were tangled mostly in the little net by your shoe. you pulled it free and collapsed the rest of the way. he just started laughing, hand on his chest, laughing up into the midnight air.

and so did you, laying next to him, rolling over just a little, propping yourself up on your elbow. he grinned, turned his head to you just a little, and you kissed him. his hand immediately met the back of your head, cradling and gentle, but the kiss wasn’t anything like that at all. you really liked him, really, to the point where kissing him seemed like the only action your brain would let you do.

this kiss was different- more. maybe because you kissed him, hard- but he adapted to it like it was nothing, one hand in your hair, the other pulling you closer, the way it did every time he kissed you. his pace matched yours, and both hands came down to your hips when you crawled over him right there on the court.

his hands travelled your back, waist, then lower, over your ass. they didn’t stay there long, like he wanted you to know what was appreciated, but he didn’t grab or hold. you straddled his waist, he welcomed it, but cautiously, almost.

his hands pushed you gently against him, then he inhaled sharply, and the kiss stopped. “are you okay? did you land weird?”

“no, sorry-“ he said, huffing. “no, i want to kiss you, but i- um-“ he was pinker in the cheeks, his ears red. you moved off of him out of respect, lightly, keeping your smile on your face. you weren’t upset. “i’m so sorry- i don’t ever-“

“it’s really okay,” you nodded. he was shy in moments, witty in others, smart and well-rounded in others. “is it the court?”

he shook his head, “no- i actually- sorry. i don’t date casually, i don’t do things like this, casually, i don’t want to do too much.”

you nodded, understanding him all too well, but the protecting yourself from committing to bad sex part was throwing itself out the window. “we can just kiss, i’m okay with not doing anything if you don’t want to.”

“not even that i don’t want to,” he chuckled, then covered his face out of embarrassment. “i want to date you. i want to go out with you. not saying now, but- you’re really- i really like you and i mean it when i say that.”

“good, me too,” you smiled, leaning forward. his lips parted like you were going to kiss him, eyes darting between your lips and eyes. soft. like they were intimidating, but not in any sense that ever made him look weak. “i really like you too.”

he kissed you again and pulled you back over him, but his hands still didn’t grab or touch or anything too rough. you just made out until your phone buzzed with a call from bella, who was reasonably worried about why you weren’t home yet at 1:30am.

his lips were just a little puffy, you noticed, when he kissed you goodnight at your door. you pressed your fingertips to your lips before spinning inside, to bella who had of course, waited to hear every detail. the debrief took until 3:30am, before you both crashed.

you saw him again almost every day that week. you learned more about him, about his life, even came to watch him practice. he was good, really good when you weren’t his horrible opponent. and then afterward, he would climb the benches and come sit with you while he cooled down. -and he would joke about kissing you, but wouldn’t until he properly showered. you went back to the theatre and saw something else, went out twice for chinese, and every night would end up with that same perfect kissing. nothing more. nothing less. hands roaming your skin, never grabbing or even staying anywhere that mattered very long. you liked that he didn’t immediately want sex like the other ‘boyfriends’, it made it known that he liked your company, above all else.

but you’d technically made it official four days ago, three weeks into seeing each other and still, nothing changed. not that you expected it to, but so far he hadn’t so much as squeezed your chest. you’d asked if he was religious over dinner one day, and he said no, so maybe it was just a personal thing. part of you wondered if maybe this was his flaw?

“he’s gay.” bella said, patting her thighs. “come on, his mom and aunt watch gossip girl? we should have seen through that.”

“he’s not gay,” you huffed, trying not to laugh. “i just don’t know if it’s me! i want a good balance of both and the other guys were all sex, no fun, and i thought he was going to be a balance-“

“yeah- i mean look at him,”

“exactly. he’s so gorgeous, i just- i can’t ask about it yet. it’s confusing. i’m confusing myself with all of it.”

“okay. well he likes you. and he likes kissing you and he’s a good kisser.” she started. you nodded. “but won’t touch you harder than a hand on your skin.”

“you make it sound like i’m feigning,” you said, knees to your chest. “i’m not! but you know.”

“you want to be touched more when you’re kissed. want to feel desired, that’s not a bad thing. he can be a good kisser and still not be giving you what you like, it’s a matter of preference,” she assured you. “not even that you’re feigning, you just want. that’s not a crime.”

you nodded again, smiling a little. it made sense. you felt bad if this was art’s case, because he was genuinely so sweet, you didn’t want any of your desire to taint or pressure or ruin what you had. finding him had been unexpected and such an amazing whirlwind. “okay.”

your computer pinged, you looked over, then slid off the bed to go see. it was art.

art: can’t get u out of my head today

art: skipping practice, are you free?

you: all yours, where?

art: my dorm, brian is out :)

you: be over in 10!!!

art: see you soon :)))(

art: :)))))))))***

“how many times have you been over there?” bella asked, over your shoulder.

“twice,” you replied.

bella teased, “gonna make out? on the floor? or? wherever?”

“maybe. oh- hey-“ you got up and changed out of your pajama shirt, “his friend is coming into town in a week for his tournament game.”

her eyes went wide, “you’re fucking kidding.” she grabbed the bed. “is he single? what do we know? y/n!”

you laughed, going behind the divider to change. “single. and… i got him to accidentally show his friend your picture and he thinks you’re hot.” your hair was still wet from the shower you’d just finished.

bella gasped out loud, “you’re evil! my god! but- secured? you’re a genius, i love you.”

“not secured but he’s interested, so a leg up?”

“i could literally make out with you for art right now, boob-grabbing and everything, i love you!”

“shut up!” you laughed.

art opened the door like he was surprised to see you, but it was always followed by his smile. you held up a bag of chips. “i don’t even know if you like these, but bella got them thrown at her today at some chip-sponsored event.”

“a lot happens to her, hm?”

“she welcomes it,” you nod. he steps aside to let you in like it’s nothing, like you belong. “are you a fan of salt and vinegar?”

“i am,” he nodded, shutting the door behind him. you put the chips down on his desk, then sat on his bed.

“i missed you yesterday.”

“you do that a lot?” he asked, climbing onto his bed with you, kissing you just once before laying down.

“yeah, actually. should i see a doctor?”

“mmm, how’s it feeling now?”

“better,” you giggled. he turned your jaw, hand gentle tilting your chin up, and kissed you softly. you hated that your stomach flipped and burned with some sort of passion. “even better.” you said, mumbling into the next kiss. he cupped your jaw, climbing over you to kiss you. you’d barely gotten in the door.

he kissed you, slow and soft and wide and gentle, like each kiss was to ease your mouth open, then kiss it, repeat. and then his hand trailed from your jaw to your neck, then over your chest, down to your waist. the same as always. wonderful, perfect, your body flushing at his touch, still. you wondered if maybe you should bring the topic up, the one you and bella were discussing, maybe just to scope things out.

you maybe thought in gaps between kisses you could mutter something small, a question, but he kissed you and you kept forgetting. and his fingertips dug into your hips and you forgot almost entirely, because he was grabbing. you sighed a little heavier than you meant to and in return, he kissed you harder, deeper.

your hands came up to tangle in his curls as his hands trailed down your waist. you pulled away, just slightly, and met his eyes. he looked back, his smile showing through his eyes. he sighed deeply, chest rising and falling. you wanted him so…. badly.

you kissed him once more. small, sweet. and he kissed you harder than that. it was like he heard your prayers, his hand then finding the end of your sweater and dipping under. like you were the most fragile thing, his hand sprawled the bare of your lower back. it only lasted a second before he kissed you harder, holding you closer, tighter.

gently, his knee parted yours, sliding between them, then between your thighs. this was different. new. you let it happen, not sure if he was even aware of it- testing, trying to understand what he needs. and so you slid a hand over his waist, toward the waist of his jeans, testing…

a sharp inhale came on his part, enough for you to notice. you felt guilty, almost, for a moment. caught. “i’m sorry, too much?” it was unexpected from him.

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he replied, kissing you between words. “i should probably-“ he sat up a little, lips pleasantly puffy from the kissing. he kissed you once more. “okay.”

“i’m listening.” you told him. “did i do something?”

he looked at his hands, then at you, seemingly embarrassed. he took a deep inhale, didn’t delay it at all, and looked at you. “i’m a virgin.”

you didn’t mean to giggle, but he meant it and you knew that. “oh. oh.”

“yeah.” he nodded. “i just never… i mean… i don’t know how to explain it, it just never happened.”

“so you don’t- you haven’t-“

“i’ve been… touched before.” he admit. “just not ever… fully. and it’s probably worse i’ve never… touched…”

you felt your cheeks pink slightly. the catch.

granted, it wasn’t the worst catch in the world. it was just A catch. all of this perfect relationship chemistry was masking the fact that he, somehow… was a virgin. and apparently, had never touched a woman. “i keep wanting you, but i have to be so honest, i have no idea what i’m doing. you’re so- i really like you, i don’t want you to think i’m bad at this.”

your heart squeezed at his words, but he smiled at you the whole sentence, bashfully. it probably took a lot to admit that. you blinked a few times, surprised, but also learning. “thank you for being honest with me.” you grinned. “we just got together, though, so there’s no need to rush.”

“okay, well, there’s some need,” he said, half-joking. half not. “i don’t know, i know it all in theory but i’ve never actually… and when i say need, it’s not even about me, it’s more about… you.” he let his palm come up and hide half his face, his nose scrunching like a cringe. it was actually one of the hottest things he could say.

“i mean, you’ve been my boyfriend a few days, i think that’s fair,” you leaned forward a little. his hand met your waist and prompted you forward, so you went all the way to perch on his lap. your arms wrapped around his neck. “i think about it, if that’s fair?”

“i’ve been-“ he swallowed, looking up at you, throat dry. “yeah, me too.”

he seemed to melt under you already. his hands slid under your sweater, over your torso, “is this okay?”

“it’s all okay,” you nodded. “but- if you want to learn, maybe we can. we can try. you can try. if you’re comfortable.”

his eyes widened, “yeah, are you comfortable with it?”

“mhm,” you grinned, kissing him softly. he kissed back the same. you could feel how hard he was under you as you slowly pushed down against him. you wondered if he was sensitive like a virgin too, then blinked the thought away.

another question crossed your mind, then found its answer as art sighed, audibly, into your mouth. he did sound like a virgin. “we don’t have to go all the way.” you tell him. “not today. you just tell me what you want to try and we can. no judgement.”

“head,” he replied, a little anxious. “you, not me.”

“why not you?” you smiled. “it’s not all about me. it actually might-“ you shimmied down his lap, then down further until you were sitting on his knees. “-help you not be so nervous about messing it up. but you won’t. can’t.”

he looked down at you like you were about to kill him, but in a way where it kept soft, sweet in his gaze. “have you been with- um- a lot of guys? or?”

you shook your head, “only twice. none of the before stuff was really done both ways, so it’d be new for me too. you could figure out what you like and what i like.” you reasoned. you really liked him. this catch was one you could form into something else. plus, you’d be lying if you said the idea of being his first wasn’t hot. he looked at you like you were going to ruin him.

“i just want to do what you want me to,” he admit. he kept trapping himself in sentences more suggestive than he means them. he knows it. “if that makes sense. i think it turns me on more- if i think about the… giving part.” he struggled as you undid the top button on his jeans. “i…”

“this is okay?”

“yes,” he breathed before you finished asking. he squirmed a little, grabbing the headboard behind him once, before trying to settle comfortably above you, propped up by the pillows. already. wow. “you don’t have to, i didn’t-“

“i want to,”

“okay.” he looked at you, accepting. and he raised his hips when you finished pulling down his zipper in a way that was so pathetic you kind of wished bella was there to see it. you’d have to show her later. he helped you push them down. his boxers were the loose kind, the flannel type, but immediately tented without the jeans to keep it down.

“jesus,” he sighed, covering his eyes when it genuinely sprung up. you giggled, but took a second to see just how tall it stood. he was a virgin… you would be the first girl to ever feel all of that- he was pretty average, but on the long side, compared to what you’d seen before. “i’m sorry.”

“no, it’s kind of impressive,” you giggled, your handily gently wrapping around it. he braced again, eyes closing, pillow next to him crinkled in his closed fist. “you’ll tell me if you don’t like something? don’t want something?”

“mhm,” he nodded. “this is-“

he was sensitive. you were barely touching him. you reached up a little, fingers rimming his boxers. you wanted him. wanted to hear that noise he made before.

you slowly pulled and he allowed, raising his hips again, and it was on display for you now, bare and kind of perfect, aesthetically. flesh, light, and pink around the tip. he was so so pretty. you couldn’t help but kiss the tip, just gently. to test the waters.

you felt his muscles contract, felt his eyes on you. he looked fearful, but the way a deer entranced by headlights does. he nodded, just slightly, maybe even subconsciously, so you gently kissed again, your hand curling around the base. you could feel him shift, grasp, and a small sound left his lips, a whimper or maybe something closer to a whistle between his teeth, accidental. slowly, you parted your lips and allowed the slick tip of his dick to glaze over your tongue as you wrapped your mouth around him.

you heard him exhale hard, gasp, and moan quietly all in sequence. “fuck- fuck-“ he whispered, hips bucking just slightly. “i’m sorry-“

you giggled, hummed, and he moaned again, a little louder. it was so pretty. you commit the sound to memory, rising and sinking and humming. you weren’t the best at this, so it was nice to know he was enjoying it. “you’re so- good at this- i-“

you didn’t stop, head bobbing gently. he was smooth, slippery, perfect. he leaked out the head, streaking your tongue as you went. “i can’t- you need to stop-“ he choked out. “i’m sorry, i can’t-“

it was an easy ask, you popped off of him, wiping your lower lip with your thumb. he looked at you, awestruck, like you were a goddess, his chest rising and falling heavily. “are you okay?”

“i didn’t want to come in your mouth-“ he admit. “not for the first time.” you couldn’t help but grin. sweetheart. “can i- can i try you? i’d like to. i’d like you to teach me. i don’t want to be the first-“

“you need to relax,” you smiled, kissing him. he melted. your hand reached back down to work him. he moaned into your mouth, not expecting your hand to return. “focus on me.”

he kissed your mouth, messily. your jaw, your neck, your ear. “you’re so beautiful.” he mumbled. “i’m close- you have to stop.”

you stopped. he was breathing hard. he covered his face, then pulled his boxers back over his throbbing dick, leaking wildly and still wet from your mouth. he shut his eyes, then breathed out through his nose. “my god, i’ve never-“ he grinned, you couldn’t help but grin with him. “i seem really pathetic, hm?”

“i kind of like it,” you shrugged. “feels like you like me.”

“i do like you,” he chuckled, nose pink and blushed. “i almost- god, i can’t even speak, i’m sorry. you’re good at all of-“ he broke, his blush taking over the tops of his cheeks again. “will you let me try? today? i want you to show me, i don’t know how else to ask.” his desperation slipped through. it occurred to you that all of his lack of touch might have just been restraint, while he worked up the courage and relationship enough to tell you about the whole virgin thing.

it was clear now, that all of it, his pent up attraction, was spilling out. leaking through his boxers, actually. you had never seen or even heard of someone being this physically attracted to another person and it was exhilarating to have it happen in front of your eyes. “you really want to?”

he nodded slowly, surely. “if it’s not too fast… or forward. but i rented gremlins from the dvd store, say the word and we can put that on, it’s already in the… thing.” he gestured vaguely. so flustered. “i’m sorry, you drive me crazy, and i am so hard.”

you giggled and kissed him without any lust in the mix. just a kiss to level him out. “you’re driving me crazy, what do you mean?” you laughed. it seemed to ground him a little. “you’re so pretty and im the first, so i’m a little nervous.”

his eyes softened, “no, there’s no reason to be. i’m hard thinking about it.”

you swallowed, kissing him again. “what if it’s not what you expect?”

“i don’t care, i just want to make you-“ he got ahead of himself. it was sweet, how he caught his own words in the making, and how they make him shy. “feel. good.”

“i want that too,” you nod, smirking. you kiss him once to be sweet, twice to reassure him, and a third time, your hands cupping his jaw again. he kisses you back like he’s been starved. he moans untouched, into it. you smile as you move, him pushing up onto his knees to kiss you, tilting your head back as he then turned and pushed you back against the bed.

“what can i do?” he whispered.

your hands tangled in his hair, gently directing his head toward your neck before pulling your sweater up over your head. the black, lacy lingerie you kept in your top drawer was always on when you saw art. waiting for this, maybe. he caught a glimpse and you watched him try to hide his grin in his hands.

“i think you should start- kissing me here.” you gestured to your chest. his eyes glanced down, though he willed them up at your face. “art, i’m yours.” you watched his eyes follow your breath in and out. “i’m not judging you.”

“i’m not judging you,” he breathed. “i-“ you kissed him. he kissed you back, tongue slipping over your lower lip. his hands travelled your body, your waist, hips, stomach, chest. his hand smoothed over the gentle black lace, slower than anything, as if trying understand how this was real and now his to touch. his hand gently pressed against the plush of it, squeezing softly. and then again, a little more firm, and then he kissed you harder.

you sighed, letting his mouth trail your neck, your collarbone. he was a good kisser, you knew that, you could imagine it. his hand cupped your left tit as he kissed down in between. his thumb gently swiped the top, sensation making it through the fabric. it was like fire lit between your legs, hot and vibrant. dizzying. it was unlike anything you’d ever felt in this way before. hot and wanted and he’d barely done a thing.

“is this okay?” he asked, mouth still against your skin. you looked down at him kissing and nipping his way over your chest. his fingers dipped under the fabric and pulled moved it down just a little. you hummed out a yes that he understood. and his lips moved over your nipple, hard and pointed against his breath. he kissed it like he’d kiss you. your chest pushed against his mouth and he welcomed it, kissing and nipping and sucking.

“you’re good at-“ you giggled, “that. this.”

“really?” he lifted his head. you kissed his nose. you nodded, he went back to it, switching tits, tucking the other one away nicely. you swore he’d have stayed there if you didn’t gently urge him.

“lower?” and he’d been waiting for the cue, kissing your chest again, the in-between, and then the place just under the wire of the bra. soft lips, lower, over your stomach. eager, the lower part, near your waistband.

“is this okay?” he asked again.

“yes.”

“i’m nervous,” he admit, resting his forehead against your stomach. you sighed heavily, running a hand through his curls. “if i’m really bad? shouldn’t i start with my hand?”

you cupped his face, “i am so… i promise you, i wont judge you. i’ve never been… nobody has ever done this for me, so we figure it out together.”

“okay,” he nodded. and he pulled gently at your shorts. “you tell me what you like?”

“i promise.”

your shorts made it off, and it took him a second to recalibrate after seeing you in the lacy black underwear. you giggled, tugging his curls just a little. your skin was aflame, burning, aching. you weren’t sure if he could see just how soaked you were through the black material, but you were more than aware.

he sighed, lowering himself properly. he planted a kiss to the inside of your thigh, to let you know where he was, and it made your skin crawl with goosebumps. it wasn’t too cold, not too warm, the air was thick with trust and an almost overwhelming mutual need. slowly, his fingers hooked the sides of your underwear and slowly slid them down your thighs. you lifted your legs to let him slide them down and off. your hands came up to hide, maybe just momentarily.

he was blushing again, rubbing his eye for a moment to hide it. you’d never wanted anything to happen so badly. “you tell me what to do and i’ll do it.” he said. “i want to make you feel good, i want to see if i can get you to-“ he stopped himself, chuckling nervously.

“please,” you sighed. welcoming, slightly nervous and desperate, closer to how he was feeling. the lights had been lowered, he could only really see your silhouette, edged gently with a pink-ish sort of light. your hands in his hair gently pulled him in. he let your legs part, gently going forward until he came to kiss right where it mattered.

it was soft. gentle pressure, momentary, warm. you shivered, hips gently pressing up against his mouth. he moaned, fully, and like desperate, his arms hooked your thighs, holding you in place. it made your head spin. you liked his hands, often stared at them, you never imagined this sort of action.

“you can-“ you breathed, “use your tongue or your lips, try to stay as close to the centre as-“

his tongue, hot, powerful, pressed heavy against you. a push, then a press, flat, and upward. his tongue barely brushed the clit at the top. you squirmed slightly. “oh my god, art-“

“is it okay?” he raised his head slightly.

you let out a breath, “yes, wow- i didn’t know it would feel like this, it’s warm…”

“oh, yeah?” his head went back, his grip tightened again. his tongue pressed again, lower, higher, higher, not high enough.

“mm- when you do that, can you move a little higher?”

“i’m sorry,” he muffled.

your fingers tightened, “no don’t be sor-“ he did exactly what you asked, perfectly, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through your nerves and body. “that’s- you have it.”

“that’s good?” he did it again. and then he moaned when you did. his tongue learned the pattern, where exactly your clit was. and then he was trying something new. it was a kiss at first, then a gentle suck. your muscles coiled. he was good, very good, too good. even alone, that kind of pleasure didn’t come until at least ten minutes in. he seemed to understand and learn quickly. “this is so-“

“don’t stop,” you breathed. it fuelled him, he groaned, warm, into you. you moaned, tugging him closer, pressing into you. his tongue discovered that pushing into you, where you were wettest, let him feel just how your muscles move around him. he rolled his hips gently against the bed. “don’t- s-stop.”

“fuck, you taste so good,” he said. “this is better than-“ his grip on your thighs tugged you closer against his face. he was about as close as a person could be, mouth moving messily, yet calculated, tongue dragging, flicking, wrapping. you were going to come. could you say that? did he want that? he moaned again.

“art- oh my god, oh my god-“

he couldn’t control how hard his hips pressed against the bed, grinding, trying to relieve something. you sighed, your head falling back, hands still tight in his curls. he pushed your legs up further, mouth everywhere, nose nudging and sometimes dipping. you covered your mouth, your eyes rolling back. how was he this good? it was intoxicating. your body was winding and he was addicted to coaxing out every symptom.

he was honed in on the taste of you. how your muscles contracted. the gentle gush that he kept having to lap up, how it slowly increased as he worked with his mouth. there wasn’t anything in the world that had ever compared to this. he wouldn’t stop, he didn’t want to. “still good?” he hummed.

“art, i’m so close, im so, so close, please keep going,” you pleaded, chest rising and falling fast and hard. he didn’t stop, he strengthened this tongue out, pushing, sucking, licking. “is it okay?”

“fuck- mhm- yes,” he nodded, swirling his tongue around your clit. your fingertips burned with the sensation. pending, climbing. it threatened to crash down on you, wipe you out. “please.” it came out broken, too focused on you to speak properly. he couldn’t believe this was real- he was grateful, counting his blessings as you contracted around his tongue again. only his mouth, god, it was only his mouth.

just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, it broke. all of it. you felt yourself flood at the release, felt how art rushed to lick up as much as he could, somehow in tune to how sensitive you were becoming as the feeling rushed through your veins. it was crashing, wild.

“oh my god, i-“ you sighed into a moan, final. “you’re amazing.”

he laughed, coming up from you, reaching for a nearby towel to wipe his face on. “yeah?” he didn’t even try to hide his blissed out delight. he handed you the towel. he didn’t even use his hands or any other tool. and he seemed proud. your chest rose and fell hard, your legs gently shook. how did he? you were in a form of shock, maybe, at just how good it all felt, as how easily he undid you.

“that was so good,” you told him. you cleaned up, then huffed again, disbelieving. talent? he was talented. no other word. he laid down beside you, pull the sheets over your lower half for your comfort, letting you collect yourself. “did you like it?”

“fuck, don’t even talk about it,” art groaned , eyes shut. somehow, he stayed bashful. attracted. “i can’t- it was so much more than i imagined- it was good?”

“so good,” you sighed, letting him move over you, kiss you. “mm- i’ve never had anyone make me come.”

“not even when you-“

“no.”

“wow. firsts, then.” he said, kissing your cheek, then ear. “and you’re my girlfriend now, hm?”

“seems so,” you smiled, kissing him on the corner of his mouth. he chased it, kissing you properly, then your nose, cheek, other cheek, jaw, neck, collarbone, lips again.

“does that mean i can try again?”

“now?” you paused.

“i’d like to try using my hand,” he whispered, hand finding your hip, squeezing the flesh of your upper thigh gently. “if you let me.” he kissed your shoulder.

“please,” you sighed, giggling. you kissed him in a way that was nearly an attack. he laughed loudly, cradling you into the kiss. “if you’re suspiciously good at this too, we might have to re-evaluate.” you teased.

“what if i am?”

“i’m praying you’re average or bad.”

“that makes me feel so much better,” he sighed, holding you, grabbing you, keeping you close, but still somehow being gentle in every way that mattered.

“just kiss me, arthur,” you giggled.

it all evened out. he liked you, wanted you in more ways than just the one or the other. satisfied the craving for intimacy in the way you needed it fulfilled. it wasn’t unwanted, not gross, you weren’t waiting for him to stop touching your left lip- you had your head tipped back and felt all of it. you mentally thanked bella, and made a mental list of everything you had to tell her when you saw her.

art was mediocre with his hands, and halfway through gave up and dove right back where he knew he had the talent. your hands curled back into his hair, your thighs shook, and best of all, he was still learning. he came, grinding against the mattress, at the same time your orgasm crashed down on you. shaking and perfectly timed, you got cleaned up and just as you were falling asleep- he wrapped his arms around you, kissed the crook of your neck, and whispered. “i wonder if bella knows i’m indebted.”

“for the book store shove?”

he chuckled, low. “you read minds now?”

“i’ll read it again.”

“go ahead.”

“gremlins.”

“you freak me out.” he joked. “- and ordering pizza.” you passed him his phone off of the windowsill, grinning.

to be continued…

requests open <3

taglist:

@y08h @theynothem @animalcrossingshameless @vinecstasy @reallycreativeusername @romnticist @lalalandofive @colorful-teaparty @senseofnewness @swetearss @ladystardust-thinks

[fernslivers]

Highschool Sweetheart, University Love

~~

In a chance happening, you're paired for a group project with the girl you've been dying to meet all school year. You're determined to befriend her, just as she's determined to hide away. But fate has already made it clear whose side it's on, and your connection follows you both to university, where it blooms into something more.

~~

A/N: ANON, THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE. I've been chipping away at this piece for ages and it just kept growing. I did tweak it a bit from someone asking you out, as the original prompt mentioned, because I already had that on my list of topics for Modern Mizu headcanons (so you'll be getting it anyway). I hope that's okay! This was such a comforting fic to work on, honestly. It's the fluffiest (and spiciest) piece I've done so far, though naturally that means it's still full of minor angst and pining. I hope nobody minds if I tried out my hand at loser!Mizu. I champion the switch-Mizu supremacy.

Reader is meant as wlw, but their gender isn't hugely specified so have fun!

((You can see the original prompt <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/fernslivers/784084562788679680/had-thoughts-about-a-high-school-into-college-au">here</a> )) (help, I do not understand hyperlinks)

TWs: Spice, some internalized self-image issues, insecurity, mentions of He*ji Sh*ndo and T*igen (in passing)

---

It started with a fight.

See, the teachers had a bad habit of pairing the quiet studious students with the rowdier ones, thinking they would balance out. Often, it does. And so, innocently, your teacher had tried to put the quiet Mizu with…Taigen.

Gasoline…meet spark.

“Enough! Enough!” Your teacher shouts over the chaos, waving her arms as she tries to separate them. Desks clatter to the floor, people shrieking and scattering out of the way, as she finally bodies her way in between them, fearless in the way only older female teachers ever are.

Silence finally falls.

Taigen is sporting a spectacular black eye, Mizu a split lip. Her bloodied teeth are bared, eyes blazing under her uneven bangs, while Taigen laughs mockingly from behind the teacher.

“Enough, the pair of you!” The teacher shouts again, furious. Both of them glare at the floor. She huffs, out of breath, and looks around the room. She seems too flustered to figure out what to do; she's also not the type to send kids for punishment without talking to them first. “We will deal with this after class. For now, Taigen, you are with him…”--she points somewhere on the other side of the room–”... and Mizu, you go there.”

She points. You freeze when you find yourself at the end of that point.

Your eyes slide from the teacher’s to Mizu’s. Two shards of ice glare back above a bloodied mouth.

Without thinking, you give her an awkward little wave. Here goes nothing.

—

You both work very quietly for a few minutes. You keep glancing her way–wary of that aura of anger still emanating from her, but unable to stop looking at the already swelling lip. She'd looked terribly fierce when she'd been fighting… the memory of that tooth-baring snarl is making your heart flutter strangely.

You've had a crush on this exact girl for most of the school year at this point. It started when you'd walked out of class and directly into a slim shape crossing the hallway; you'd looked up into the most beautiful eyes you'd ever seen, recognizing the new girl right away. She had apologized, quickly and efficiently, then turned away before you could say a word. You'd been watching her ever since. The way she walked with such a strange mixture of flinching and defiance; as though she expected to be struck down, and already planned on stubbornly getting back up. You had waited and waited for an opening, always had a smile ready on your lips when she passed by, but she never looked up, never gave you an ounce of an opening… until now.

Meanwhile, Mizu sulks, avoiding your gaze, already assuming that you hate this forced pair-up. She doesn't want to see you looking at her like she's a rabid animal you've been forced to sit close to. She wonders with a dull pang of resignation what stories you've heard, about her, about where she comes from. She had tried to catch Ringo’s eye when this all started–he can be annoying, but he is at least diligent. But he had already partnered with Akemi, sitting next to him. Then the teacher had partnered up who was left, and…

A soft voice catches her attention.

“That looks painful…”

She meets your gaze with a start, surprised to see your brow furrowing slightly in concern.

“S’fine,” she mumbles, but it's clear the swelling is starting to affect her speech, and she scowls harder at her own human limitations. You dig in your bag, pulling out a little pack of wipes. When she looks at you skeptically, you giggle nervously. “They're not scented or anything, but they're supposed to soothe…it might help?”

Wonderingly, she reaches out. You think she looks much less intimidating when her eyes are wide like this, her fingers hesitant. Nervous…almost shy.

She takes the wipe like she's preparing for you to snatch it back and laugh. When you don't, she smiles tentatively, as much as her swollen lip will allow.

—

The project goes surprisingly well. You both fall into a strangely easy rhythm of meeting for your free periods, occasionally after class … This is the first time Mizu has ever had a fellow student to meet up with. Eiji grumbles about her lack of presence in the forge, but she catches the edge of a smile as he turns away, shooing her out the door to the library, where you're waiting, every day for the next few weeks, with a ready smile that makes her guts feel squirmy.

Mizu handles the display; you handle the presenting. She blushes with half-hidden delight when you praise the artistic beauty of her work with genuine admiration. She'd always wondered if her designs merited any pride, but who could she ask? Eiji of course could tell her plenty about technical skill, but he isn't the type to bother praising her aesthetics, even if he could. And she feels a profound sense of gratitude when you field the questions at the end; blocking those that would previously have asked her joke questions just to force the weird kid to speak.

When the presentation concludes with a spattering of the usual bored classroom applause, you shoot her a beaming smile. She feels a little glow in her chest, swelling up like a warm bubble. This is the first project where she didn't end with wanting to sink into the ground and vanish.

The bell rings, and you walk with her out into the hall, the same way you have every day since the project started. She's grown used to the company, now. It's… really nice.

“That went so well!” You chirp, pausing in the hallway. “That's the first time I didn't hate a group project.” You rub your arm, wondering if you're saying too much. “I'm actually kinda sad to see it end…”

…Oh. Right.

The bubble in her chest pops abruptly.

The project is over. She’s got no further reason to spend time with you. Her suddenly empty ribcage aches; no more afternoons in the library filled with your chatter, no more emails and texts to cut the monotony of training and working with Eiji. She might never see your name pop up on her little flip-phone again. She's horrified to feel her throat tighten painfully.

Why is she so disappointed? What is this? Spooked by her own emotions, she panics, just as you start to speak.

“Would you maybe wanna–”

“I gotta get to class.” She blurts out over top of your words, turning on her heel and hurrying away, terrified you might see the emotion on her face. That would be humiliating. It was just a project.

You stare after her, your mouth still open on the half-finished invitation to hang out.

—

It takes another school year, and at least one more paired project, to get her to the point of even conversing outside of class-based activities.

You don't care.

You saw the way she warmed to you during that first project. And–frankly–you know what she's like with people she can't stand, you share several classes with people she has snarled at. If she wanted you gone, truly, she'd have cut you down already.

You’re determined to make this strange, prickly girl like you. It's like slowly coaxing in a wild animal; there's an honor in gaining that trust.

It's not easy.

She looks away when you sit next to her in class, mumbling her responses to your greetings. She hunches her shoulders and speeds up when you call out to her in the hallway, then hyperventilates in the bathroom stall, berating herself for being unable to just turn around. She won't sit with your friends at lunch; she finds them banal and irritating.

She sits very close by, though, close enough to hear the bright arpeggio of your laughter, to glance over the top of her sketch book and study the way your hand raises to cover your smiling mouth selfconsciously. Each laugh strikes like an arrow, a pang of wistfulness that she immediately resents. She feels irrationally jealous every time someone else prompts that laugh. She wishes you were laughing with her.

Sometimes, rarely, you do sit with her. Those are the best days. When she can sit quietly and let herself sink into your voice like a warm bath. You always ask about her newest sketches; she always hopes that you will, but can never bring herself to offer first. Slowly, she's begun to draw with the hopes that you'll soon be looking at these pieces and praising them. The praise begins to settle in her mind as pride in her own work; it's new, a little scary.

You never chatter too much; the silences are easy. In those moments, she knows you understand; the importance of giving each other room for thought, of knowing when you do choose to speak, it will instantly be picked up with warmth, of following a conversation half-started inside another person’s head. There's an intimacy in that silence, unquestioned and full-felt.

But the next day, you’re back with your friends, and she's left to wonder, to drive herself slowly crazy with doubt.

She has no idea that you come so rarely only because you worry you're bothering her. It would surprise her that her quiet presence is a balm to you the same as yours is for her. That she feels more real to you than anyone else in the school. That when she raises her pale gaze and listens to you, you feel like what you're saying has more weight than ever before. Simply by listening, she makes you slow down, think harder about what you say and what you believe. You feel yourself becoming more you every moment you spend within her simple acceptance. You'd sit there every day if you could; but instead, you only do it when you just can't stay away a second longer.

For her, those are bright moments of beauty, where she has your full attention, and she can believe that you're here because you feel that same need for her. For you, they are tiny moments of connection to something that feels already deeper and more special than the fleeting teenaged fancies of high school.

The day she finally, grumblingly, agrees to give you her social media accounts, it feels like getting the wolf to briefly let you stroke its muzzle. It is a prize you hug to your heart and allow to buoy you up for weeks afterwards. She trusts me–it electrifies you with excitement that even impedes your sleep.

The social media in question is bare-bones. No profile picture, no posts. Her friends list is hidden.

You don't realize it's because she created it for you.

Because you kept asking.

That hidden friends list is only two people long; you, and Ringo (who immediately discovered her page with the skill of a bloodhound, despite her attempts to be unsearchable).

For your part, you try not to think about the little thrill that pops through you when you notice a like from her in your notifications. You sometimes just stare at the grey outline of her blank profile photo, at her name next to it. Thinking about her. Wishing she would post some tiny hint of her life, her interests, anything that might give you a glimpse past the wall of stoicism. You aren't sure when you started posting your own content hoping she'd see it, but at some point towards the end of that second year, you can admit that you think of her with every new upload.

She regrets it every day; it makes it impossible to turn her brain away from you. It’s like a little reminder of you in her fucking pocket that dings every time you post a story, a picture, a note, a video–how many ways can people post on these things?? It's torture.

She consumes every pixel of it religiously.

Memorizes the exact curl of your real smile versus the one you think makes you look nice in photos. Learns what music you prefer to go with your posts. What days you’ll be putting up little Stories and why; the ones that come with being bored in class, the ones being out with friends, the ones when you're at home. She learns hints of what your room looks like through the back of your selfies.

She's not trying to be creepy; she isn't lurking in your bushes or something. It's just that you're…interesting. For some reason.

For the thousandth time, she slams the laptop shut abruptly, glaring at her ceiling, hearing the ring of Eiji’s hammer downstairs. Mizu he shouts up, and she hops to her feet, grateful for work to purge her mind temporarily.

It doesn't matter.

None of it matters.

You'll be gone soon, anyway, and she's certain you won't remember her. She's watched you from afar, seen how you're always happy, always smiling, with everyone equally.

Meanwhile, she feels like her chest only lightens when she's near enough to hear your laugh. The yawning pit of grief she feels when she looks at that looming graduation date…it feels impossible, like it can't truly happen. Surely something so essential to her life can't simply…leave?

It doesn't. Matter.

She's used to losing things. She'll adjust to this too, who cares? And you seem to have no problem being happy without her. You'll move on.

—

She freezes on the threshold of the dorm, statue-still with her cardboard box in hand. Behind her, Eiji crashes into her back and swears loudly. She doesn't move, even when his cane-tongs clonk her ankle. A pair of familiar eyes look up at the commotion, going as wide as hers.

“Mizu…?”

She drops the box. Before she can scramble for it, you’re leaping into her suddenly empty arms.

She's assaulted by the warmth of you, your familiar scent; only ever caught in wisps except for that one painful, poignant hug at graduation–the last time she thought she would ever get the chance to hold you close. As her brain struggles to reboot, her body reacts, wrapping around you, gripping you back tightly, as though she'll never risk letting go again.

“Mizu, I can't believe it!” She looks down into your beaming face. Your smile is so close. Have your eyes always been this full of light? Your skin so soft-looking, your hair falling so perfectly? She's still frozen, even with Eiji growing frustrated behind her.

“It’s like fate!” Your voice, that same bright peal of laughter.

She is so fucked.

—

Slowly, impossibly, you settle into a routine.

Not that it isn't torture. It absolutely is, to be so close to you, actually haunted by the scent of your shampoo, even your laundry soap. Even more devastatingly, your dorm begins to smell like both your scents mingled–sometimes she can catch a whiff of you on her own jacket. It's as though her own fantasies are laughing at her.

Every time she opens the door to find you glancing up from your bed with that bright smile, her heart lurches, a joy that is somehow knife-sharp. It hurts to look at you too long, and yet she can never satisfy the need to do so.

This is so much harder than high school.

For the first week, she lies awake, staring in awed silence as you sleep peacefully less than a room-length away from her. You're here. Not just on campus–in her room. It feels impossible to have gotten this second chance to be close, even if she'll never have you the full way she wants. This is already more than a blessing. It’s like a kind of greed; surviving on tiny gasps of your presence before, and now she can just breathe you in.

---

It only takes her that first week to notice that you always wake up too late to get breakfast before the hall closes.

As you shovel one of the pop-tarts from your care package into your mouth, again, frantically shoving your shoes into your sneakers without untying them, already looking around for your bag, a raspy voice arrests you.

“What do you usually eat in the morning?”

“Mmph?” You stop and turn to her; her voice has always had the power to do that. She speaks so rarely and always with purpose.

God, she looks good; you remember how long she's been doing her sword training now, and her body has that well-seasoned fighter’s slouch as she sprawls in her desk chair. You could just crawl into that lap... Whatever she did in your summer apart, it's working for her. Her high bun highlights the sleekness of her cheekbones, lets more light into those intense eyes.

Rousing yourself, you shake your head on an indistinct noise, waving at the poptart in your teeth.

She curls her lip up with a stoic look of disapproval. It shouldn't be hot; it really is. “If you could get up in time. Get real food.”

“Hmg–...mm…” You decide not to comment on the hypocrisy of this; you can remember how often she seemed to survive on tea and pure spite back in high school. You finish your bite hastily, pulling the rest of the pastry away to mumble around it, “I don't know… I'm not really very picky.”

You get a bombastic eye roll. She's grown a bit more confident over the summer as well, and that sharp sass you've always seen buried under the surface has come out in full. You're not complaining.

She leaves the conversation there, but the next morning, the clack of a plate dropping onto your bedside table is what wakes you. You squint up at her, confused; of course she's already dressed without a hair out of place. She swallows the thought that you look extremely cute like this, and soft, and warm, and she would very much like to burrow down into the extra plush blankets with–

“Eggs.” Her voice is as clipped as ever.

“Did you steal that plate from the dining hall…?” You push yourself up on one elbow, blinking, too disoriented to think to say thank you. “They have to-go boxes…”

She’s already turning away for the door; your voice is husky from sleep and it's killing her slightly.

“Eat.”

You eat about half the eggs; they aren't your favorite. She surveys the leftovers on the plate the next time she's in the room, but says nothing.

The next day it’s oatmeal instead. She watches as you crinkle your nose before hiding it in a flash, remembering this time to say thank you, and eating a bit to be polite.

Then bacon. Then waffles.

You thank her profusely no matter what it is; she grunts and flees. Every day.

You’re not about to be outdone. You begin to notice how often she gets back late to the dorm from her practices. You've got to take the breakfast plates back anyway (she keeps stealing them), or she'll try to do that for you, too, so…

The next time she comes in late, she drops her duffle with a sigh, and goes towards her side-table to grab a protein bar from her stash. She finds a takeout container waiting. She looks over at you, startled.

You smile. “Eat,” you tell her, playfully.

—

She keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to reveal some fundamental incompatibility. Maybe you put dirty socks on the radiator? Or talk loudly on the phone late at night? But as the autumn cools and the leaves crisp to burnt caramel and drop, things only grow warmer between you.

Slowly, your things begin to encroach on each other’s sides, her jacket slung over your chair on her way to sit on your bed, your books stacked on her desk, trying to entice her to read your favorites. Slowly, she finds that more and more Friday nights are spent curled distractingly close to you on one bed or the other, watching something on the laptop, instead of studying in silence or training at the gym. It still feels like a miracle when you turn to her and smile like she’s something special to you, but it’s no longer a bizarre shock.

When will you start to hate her? There must be something she's going to do that will turn you away, fill your eyes with the cold distaste she's come to expect as a greeting from others. When will she catch you gossiping about her? When will your smile suddenly turn cruel, and you reveal this has all been some ridiculously long joke? Or that you've just figured out that she's not worth your time? Surely you can't really be the only one who will never turn on her, another like sword-father?

One day she catches herself smiling even when she's alone–just remembering your laughter the night before.

Panic sets in. She's … happy. You make her happy. This is all going too well.

She’s getting in too deep. It can't last, she knows it can't.

She begins to pull away.

At first, you take it in stride; this is Mizu, she gets in weird moods, and you've seen her go through grumpy phases before. Something from class, something Taigen said–frankly, just her suddenly recalling that he somehow ended up at the same university is sometimes enough to put her in a funk.

But after the third week of untouched takeout containers, and two skipped Friday hangouts, it starts to sting.

You thought things were going well. What did you do wrong?

Suddenly, you're back in highschool again, wanting to sit at her table but afraid you'll piss her off by coming around too much, having to constantly calculate how much you can be with her before you scare her away. Have you been spending too much time around her? Is she burnt out on you? Every time you ask her to do something and she turns away with a shrug and a grunt, it feels like something breaks in your soul.

You can feel yourself wilting away, your smiles less ready as her scent starts to fade from your clothing and pillow. You blame yourself. You got too comfortable and forgot about moderation. You let yourself be yourself too much, and now you've lost her.

Maybe…maybe you can still fix this. Maybe if you just give her space, maybe spend some time with your other friends, and let her have more time to herself, she'll come back around again?

Mizu notes your cooling demeanor, the sudden absences from your room, the way you stop inviting her to shared activities, the empty spot on her desk where your books have vanished. Within her, something grows cold, and nods with cynical resignation. Things are going back to the way they were always meant to go.

It's better this way, she thinks, lying awake and staring at the ceiling.

She still feels cold.

She feels like something important is slipping through her fingers. There's another, realer panic, quieter and more confusing, bubbling under the surface that she can't quite grasp. She shoves it down deep and tries to ignore it.

Lying dead still, barely blinking, she watches the cracks in the ceiling fade out of sight in the dark, then slowly reappear as the room lightens with the next morning’s dawn.

The cold only grows deeper.

—

Akemi has had just about enough of this bullshit.

Seriously.

Her friend group is in tatters thanks to the two of you.

It used to be fun; you two were thick as thieves. If she invited one, the other would show up without being asked. And somehow with you next to her, Mizu would sometimes smile, maybe even talk! Not to mention, Akemi had less of an issue keeping the conflicts between Mizu and Taigen to a minimum. She even had time to chat to Ringo without having to manage two ridiculous hotheads slinging their swords around in endless dick-measuring contests that neither could seemingly back down from.

Now? Forget it.

If one of you shows up, the other shuts down or leaves. More often it's you showing up, which of course means half the time, Ringo scuttles off to make sure Mizu isn't dead in a ditch somewhere, so Akemi never sees either of them. When Mizu does make a rare appearance, she's so damn irascible that Akemi is genuinely starting to fear for her boyfriend’s safety. In the miraculous event that you do both join the group, she has to endure the cliched sight of you both staring longingly at each other when one is looking away, only to turn quickly when they glance towards you, prompting them to start looking longingly…

She’s never seen two bigger, more oblivious boneheads. My god.

Something simply has to be done.

When she mentions this to her boyfriend, Taigen offers to flirt with you to entice Mizu to act; Akemi is forced to pretend at jealousy just to keep him from getting his ego bruised by the fact that she’s sure Mizu would outright kill him.

See? This is exhausting. Everything is conflict. Can't a girl get some damn peace.

That said… Taigen might be onto something here.

While Akemi isn't willing to risk her boyfriend’s life … there is a party coming up soon. She's happy to gamble on a few less frat bros in the world if it means getting her friends group off of life support.

Time to rehearse how she's going to rope you into dressing up.

—-

How Akemi roped you into this, you have no idea.

You're grousing under your breath in the mirror, still struggling to get your hair to behave, when the door to the dorm room opens behind you. You freeze. Dammit. You had been trying to get out the door before Mizu got home, but you're so out of the habit of dressing up that you've lost track of time.

You turn warily around to find Mizu outright staring.

When she catches your eye, she drops her duffle on her foot, trips over it, and then shuts the door on the bag, having dropped it right on the threshold. Her expression shifts rapidly as you watch; one betraying wide-eyed flick up and down your outfit, her cheeks flushing, then a guilty flash as she catches herself doing it and quickly glances away.

“Hm. Fancy,” she comments dryly, looking down at her dropped belongings and finally managing to shut the door.

Picking up her bag with deliberate casualness, she then hangs her things up with unusual care, the activity keeping her back to you. The brief fizzle of certainty that she was checking you out dies in the face of her now-customary coldness.

“Yeah,” you mumble, giving up on your hair. You don't really care if you look good for this thing anymore. It's amazing how one reminder of the lost closeness between you two can immediately kill your mood. “Sorry–I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

She grunts in reply, stalking over to throw herself into her bed without looking at you, and grabs her sketchbook. That seems to be the end of her input on the matter.

Jesus. You'd think such a rare event as you dressed up would–... well, maybe some part of you had hoped she might– … Well, fine. Whatever.

Stifling a sigh, you pad over to the end of your bed and bend forward to start putting on your shoes. Maybe you'll talk to your RA about a room transfer, you think. This late in the year, they probably won't replace you and then Mizu will have a room to herself. That would probably be better for her… Your mood is dropping to gloom when she unexpectedly pipes up again.

“Where are you going.”

You're surprised enough to turn and glance at her, but she's firmly ensconced behind the book and hasn't looked up. You aren't aware that she risked a glance a moment ago while you were bending forward and nearly swallowed her tongue. All you see is a literal wall, hiding her face from you when she used to meet you with eyes like a warm ocean.

You feel yourself crack.

Okay. You've been patient. You've been nice. But now you're just confused, upset–and mad. You're not sure if it’s the sight of her face blocked by that sketchbook–the one you know almost every sketch in–or the way she’s demanding to know where you're going despite ignoring you for weeks. Maybe it's the way she definitely looked you up and down when she came in, then pretended nothing happened. Regardless of what it is, something absolutely evil burrows into your chest.

“I'm going to that party tonight at Heiji Shindo’s.”

You had planned to be gone, or at least to tell her you were simply partying with Akemi. You weren't going to tell her. You know exactly how much Mizu hates Shindo; admittedly, that might have been a private reason you let Akemi talk you into this. And for the first time since this all started, you find that you kind of want to piss her off. God, at least maybe then she'll do you the courtesy of looking at you.

You get your wish.

“What.” The sketchbook flops forward, covered by her hands, and you almost flinch at the expression on her face. She looks stricken rather than angry; naked shock and a genuine disbelief etched in every angular plane and line.

You grit your teeth; you can smell an argument coming like rain on the breeze. Too late to turn back now.

“I said I'm going to–”

“Heiji. Shindo.” She cuts in. Every syllable tinkles with ice. Her face is twitching, emotions shifting rapid-fire between dismay and disgust, disbelief and something deeper, something that crumples the edges of her mouth and makes your heart clench. You shake your head; already you regret everything.

“Yeah.” You swallow. “Akemi asked me to go. She thinks it'd be good for me to get out, meet some people.”

You can see her fingers tighten on the edge of her sketchbook.

“Meet people.” Her voice drops with disdain. “Dressed…like that.” She curls a lip, but as her eyes drift to your outfit, you can tell the snark is, as usual, masking something else.

You can't help the way your shoulder slump, even if you want to pretend she doesn't bother you. “What's wrong with my outfit?”

The snark melts off her face at once at the sight of your stung expression, and she looks almost regretful for a moment before her face disappears behind the sketchbook. “Nothing. It's fine,” she snaps. “Nevermind.”

You pause, biting your lip. It's clearly not fine. Only a few weeks ago, you'd have pursued it, but not now, not when you’re already afraid you've driven her away by being too pushy. You go back to fastening your shoes, and for a few moments, the only sound in the room is the skritch of Mizu’s pencil. It stops suddenly.

“I don't think you should go.”

“Huh?”

She takes a breath. “You talk to enough people,” she says shortly. You frown.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” mumbles the sketchbook. You can see her shoulders hunch around its edges. “... You're always out. With people.”

“Are you saying I get around or something?”

“No!” Horrified blue eyes peep over the top of the sketchbook, then disappear again. “… Just … the people at those parties…”

You wait, as you always do, for her to find her words.

“They're… they might be unsafe.” Even she sounds confused by her own words. What the fuck is going on.

“You know I can take care of myself.” You cross your arms, but your tone is less angry this time; you're staring at her in bemusement. This is the most she's talked to you in weeks.

“They’re not your style,” she counters irritably. She's grasping at straws now; even you can hear the mounting frustration in her voice. A little whisper of intuition stops you from flaring up, and you pause, studying the taut figure on the bed.

“Who says they’re not my style?” You ask, more softly this time.

“They're just not.” She sounds certain. Internally, you know she's right–but you're not about to cave to a literal blank page with no answers.

“Well … maybe it'll be good to broaden my horizons,” you counter. You hear a faint choke disguised as a scoff.

“Sure, get harrassed by some frat guy,” She snaps. “I'm sure that's what your social life needs.”

You stand for a moment longer, shoe in hand. You could get angry at her tone, or the harsh words. Maybe you should. But…

As slowly as if you were approaching a stray cat, you walk over and sit at the edge of her bed. Her shoulders hunch further as she feels your weight dip the mattress. She draws her knees up defensively. Suddenly, you're reminded of the girl you met in high school, the one that watched you and waited for you to pull away when you'd just seen her thrash another student. Who looked surprised when you reached out instead. Maybe I've read this wrong.

“Mizu? Why are you so worked up about this?”

“I'm not.”

O-kay. You can already feel the wall you're going to hit if you insist on pushing that angle.

“... Okay. Well. Why … don't you want me to go?”

“Because I don't want you to– …” She nips off the end of her sentence abruptly.

“To?”

“Just– … forget it.” She's not even pretending to draw anymore. The sketchbook is pulled almost touching her face, purely a shield. You've never seen her like this. She's avoidant, to the max. You do know that. But hiding behind a book, openly almost cowering–that's not Mizu. A little grain of possibility is beginning to take root in your mind. But it can't be…

“Mizu. Please.” You keep your voice soft, but you're starting to get concerned, and the distress is showing in your voice. “Tell me what's going on. Why don't you want me to go?”

“I don't care if you go.” Her voice is tight behind her shield.

“Mizu, come on.” Your voice cracks; you're trying not to cry. What happened to you two? All you've ever wanted was to be close to her; a friend if that's all she wanted, even though you wanted more. How did you make so much progress and then suddenly get caught up in such a tangled mess? The words spill out of you in a frustrated rush; you can't seem to stop them. “You've been weird for weeks, and…and I thought we were close, you know??” You stand up from the bed abruptly, beginning to pace. “I don't know what I did wrong. But you won't even look at me, much less talk to me– and now you’re finally talking to me again but just to tell me not to go somewhere without even telling me why–”

“Because I don't want you to meet someone.”

It's so quiet that you could have talked right over it, but Mizu’s voice has always had the power to stop you in your tracks. You stop pacing.

“… What?”

“I don't… want you to-... meet someone.” You can't see her face, but the words sound like they're coming out through a tightly clenched jaw.

… Ho-ly shit.

“Mizu...” You sink back down onto the bed, feeling a little dizzy. You're at a loss for words, your voice genuinely stunned. Does she… does she really mean…? Is she saying…? Suddenly, you're consumed by the need to see her face; you can't know if this is real until you've seen it in her eyes. You reach out tentatively, and try to pull down the sketchbook, but she grips it tight. Damn. You always forget how strong she is.

“Mizu, please? Talk to me?” Your voice is cracking again, trying to stay soft with such a potent need building behind it.

At your soft plea, she almost seems to flinch. After a moment, slowly, jerkily, she lowers the sketchbook. You glance at the page in passing, and then stare at it in surprise.

It's a rough outline, barely, but it's clearly you, in your outfit, perfectly represented in only a few graceful strokes.

You stare at it for a long moment, pieces fully clunking into place in your brain. Then, gently, you pry the sketchbook from her stiff fingers and set it aside, before reaching out to take her hands. You can feel her fingers spasm under yours, as though she's afraid to squeeze back, but wants to.

“You know, you're right that the party isn't really my style,” you say very quietly. Raising your eyes from your entwined fingers to her eyes, you finally see her face. You’re struck again with a vision of your very first meeting; she looks as lost and uncertain as she did in that first moment of connection. This makes … only the second time you've ever seen Mizu look afraid. You hold her gaze in yours. “I'd rather be here. With you.”

Her breath catches on an inhale, blue eyes widening even further. Convulsively, the long fingers suddenly wrap around yours.

“Mizu, I ... I really missed you lately,” you continue, your voice still quiet. Your eyes are searching hers, vulnerable with hope. Color is rising along the pale column of her neck, her lower lip trembling. You shift up the bed a little, closer to her. You're not going to ask her why she pulled away; now that this has happened, you know her well enough to guess. Actually, you suspect you might understand better than she could have explained it to you–if she even would have.

A giddy, excited nervousness is bubbling in your chest. She likes me. She likes me. She likes me. This is happening. Oh my god. Don't fucking blow it now.

“Did you…miss me?” You're close enough to whisper now, your fingers still entwined between you. Your voice is husky now, somewhere between enticement and encouragement.

“Yes.”

Startlingly, her hands suddenly tighten hard around yours. Squeezing, gripping like iron. You couldn't pull away if you wanted to–lucky that you don't.

She says it with such drive, almost aggressively. One of her hands slides to your upper arm, tugging you in closer with one unintentionally rough jerk. Her eyes never leave yours; the yearning suddenly revealed is so potent that it knocks you breathless for a moment.

“Yes,” she says. “Yes. I missed you. Yes.”

Your foreheads are nearly touching. She keeps her firm grip on you, but she seems at a loss now that you're close; she doesn't seem to know what to do next, only that she wants you as close to her as possible. She says your name hoarsely; you can see her pulse rabbiting in the hollow of her throat. I'd like to kiss you there.

You’re afraid to spook her. You don't want to accidentally ruin this before it even starts. Gently, you raise the hand that's still entwined with one of hers; you watch her eyes fasten on your lips as they near her hands, giving her time to pull away. As you breathe softly over her knuckles, you can see her eyelids flutter for a moment, before the softness of your lips makes her swallow.

“Good?” You ask softly. She nods, swallowing again at your immediate, heart-melting smile.

She wants to kiss you. And–like she does with every goal in her life–she immediately throws herself directly into what she wants now that she knows how to get it, the hand on your bicep suddenly tangling in your hair, yanking you into a hard kiss.

It's clumsy with mutual inexperience, a bit toothy, but Mizu’s lips are on yours, her hands grasping you, her harsh breaths against your mouth–and that's enough to pull a soft moan from you as you scramble around on the bed to pull closer.

The dam of mutual desire is breaking after so many long years, both of you surprised by the other’s intensity, and your own. Nothing could stop the torrent now. In a rushing tangle of limbs, you end up in Mizu’s lap, one hand braced on the wall behind her, her face buried in your neck. “Smell so good–” she mumbles into the flesh of your throat, mouthing with inexpert passion at the soft skin. You feel woozy; this is real, her hands gripping at your hips, those slender fingers digging into the soft flesh there.

“Oh– fuck, Mizu…” your whine is almost lost in the rustle of fabric as you press yourself closer to her on top of the blankets.

With a desperate groan, she disentangles and pulls back to look up at you. “God–” She gasps, taking in your hazy expression, tracing down over the reddened marks littering your neck and shoulders, down to where your clothes are riding up, the skin of your thighs soft and vulnerable wrapped around her hips. “You look–... you're so–...”

“You too,” you say in a breathless rush, sounding somehow both giddy and hungry. She looks fucking delicious. Her hair is coming down in tousled strands from its tidy knot, her blue eyes hazy, a heady flush painting her cheekbones. As she devours the sight of you greedily, you cup her face, bringing her gaze back to yours. “Mizu– I want you,” you say, simple and blunt, and watch the shudder roll through her.

Her eyes darken even as they widen. She buries her face in your neck again, hiding from her own reaction, struggling to control her breathing as she veers between painful, fearful joy and a deep chasm of arousal. “Fuck–” she rasps, her grip on your hips tightening almost painfully, dragging you closer, one hand skating up your back to wrap you in her grip fully.

“I want you,” you murmur in one reddening ear, again, and feel her shudder again, her teeth fastening into the meat of your shoulder. Your cry cascades into a moan. “I need you.” She hisses out your name again, maybe a warning–too much–too real–too powerful–or maybe a prayer answered, maybe some kind of grateful call and response. It's everything she never even let herself fantasize–it's more than she could ever believe she could have. It's terrifying. She clings to you tighter, presses her face closer to your skin, pushing away her terror with the feel of you, your scent like a drug around her.

“Mizu. I love you.”

You can feel the hot breath against your skin suddenly hitch and stop for a moment, her body going still. She pulls away again, looking up at you like she did before–the Mizu that took the wipe all those years ago, the Mizu hiding behind the sketchbook. Scared to hope, scared to reach out and take the connection even as she craves it desperately.

“I love you,” You whisper again, even softer, your hands cupping her face again. She closes her eyes, pressing her cheek harder into your hand, her breathing heavy. Her lashes are darkening--there's wetness under your cupped hand. When you lean in to kiss her softly, you can smell the faint tang of salt.

Her lips move softly against yours for a moment, trying for that same clumsy urgency, but you hold her to a sensual kiss–slow, gentle, thorough–making her feel the lingering depth of your desire until she's shivering against you. When you pull back, the blue gaze is raw.

“I-... I-I…” Her voice cracks; suddenly she looks stricken at her own lack of words. You can see the struggle on her face; to bare such a tender spot, after a lifetime that has battered her tender spots mercilessly. She says your name again, helplessly, her hands clutching at you. “I…”

“It's okay,” you whisper, pressing another kiss to her lips to silence her. You already know; just like every other unspoken moment that's passed between you two in the comfortable silences ever since your school days. There's no need for her to say it when she isn't ready. The sentiment is clear. “You don't need to, Mizu. I know.”

“I'm sorry–” she says anxiously–you cut her off with a soft nip to her throat, melting some of her anxiety into a moan.

“Don't be,” You murmur. “Just be here. With me.”

“I am– I am–oh–...”

As you trail more kisses down her neck, across your collarbone, you can feel her hips twitch up underneath you, and you smile, shaky with nerves, but determined, as your hands find the hem of her shirt. You're no more experienced than she is, but damn it if you aren't going to put those long hours of internet research to some constructive use.

“Fuck,” she hisses again when your lips close around one already tight nipple. “Ah!” She was utterly unprepared for the sharp jolt of sparks that shot straight from where your lips connected to her very core. You hum with delight, taking her soft cries as positive feedback as your tongue laves over the tight bud.

You would happily stay here all day, switching from one pert breast to the other, feeling her thighs clench around your waist with each swipe of slick muscle, but you take mercy on the helpless bucking of her hips, the way her voice is going higher and higher every time you switch nipples and start afresh.

Her toned belly flinches at the first kiss, as though even that were too sensitive, and her thighs twitch around you again as you breath over the slick mess between her thighs. When you look up, the nervous desire in her face is almost adorable; brows quirking up, blue eyes gone soft and hazy. You know you're not doing much better; you’re shaking, you want to please her so badly.

“Tell me if it's bad?” You ask her, a twinge of self-consciousness showing through your attempts at confident seduction. She reaches out, stroking a lock of hair from your face.

“It won't be,” she whispers, shakily, and you smile, turning to catch her palm with a kiss, before your lips find her thigh and begin to move inwards.

She claps a hand over her mouth at the first swipe of your tongue along her slit, muffling a broken cry. Her taste already dominating your senses, you glance up, still unsure of yourself, but she nods, panting.

You bury your face in her folds at last, finding your rhythm quickly as her moans and cries grow louder. God–fuck, i could die here and be happy. You don't look up again, lost in a daze at the taste of her, her arousal slicking your chin as she bucks her hips up frantically. She sounds perfect, and feels even better against you, all slick, wet heat and delicately fluttering muscle. She's already so keyed up that it takes nearly no time at all. When your lips find her clit and close around it, she abandons all attempts to muffle herself, both hands finding your hair as her thighs tighten around your head, shuddering helplessly and crying out your name to the ceiling as orgasm whites out her vision.

You work her through the aftershocks greedily with lips and tongue and fingers, until finally she's pushing you weakly away with a whine, legs falling limply to the mattress. You crawl up to pepper very wet kisses to her neck and cheek, unable to hide your smug pride.

“The great Mizu, finally subdued,” you purr teasingly, your voice warm with affection, nuzzling into her cheek before pulling back to grin.

Her eyes snap open. The room suddenly spins around you.

You fall back against the mattress with a yelp, your outfit now fully ridden up to leave you exposed between parted, soaked thighs. Mizu looms over you, hair a mess, skin sweat-slicked, pale eyes as sharply intent as a predator. Holy shit. Your skin is already tingling as she hooks your knees over her shoulders and drags you easily back towards her with a palm on the top of each thigh. Seemingly, you aren't the only one to have done your homework.

“My turn.” Her voice is a husky, ominous rasp, an undercurrent of danger and play making your stomach flip.

Those burning eyes never leave yours, even as her face buries itself between your legs.

—

Akemi taps one heel on the sidewalk outside of the party, irritated. She tries to do something nice and what does it get her? She gets to be the Walmart Greeter for Heiji Shindo’s bash for over an hour while you leave her dangling. Five missed calls. Five! All the good booze is gonna be gone by the time she gets in there; she knows Taigen doesn't have the empathy to save her a bottle of anything good.

She opens her phone again, sighing at the sight of the long string of texts lining her side of the chat window with no replies from you.

Well?! Are you coming?!?!?!

She's not exactly expecting a response, so she surprised to see the three dots pop up within a few minutes.

Oh, I'm coming.

Just not to the party ;)

GIRL

WTF

TMI

You heart her texts without replying. Akemi sighs. So, as it turns out, the frat boys weren't the sacrifice this evening; she was.

Tut, tut. That's what I get for being the responsible one in this friend group, she tells herself, before turning and making her way into the party.

All in a day’s work.

Maybe she'll be lucky enough to get a sip of Malibu before she has to chug the orange-flavored Mad Dog.

[loganficsonly]

an independent woman

˚₊‧⁺˖✮ ch 4: holding back ✮ ˖⁺‧₊˚

worst!logan x fem!reader, 4.3k

SUMMARY: As Logan learns to live instead of survive, he finds himself in the extremely dangerous position of sharing an apartment with you—Wade's friend. Extremely dangerous because Lord knows he can't keep his feelings a secret forever... not when your room is five steps away from his.

SERIES WARNINGS/TAGS: english is not my native language, no use of y/n, reader is a working adult (mid-late 20s) with a slightly written out personality, friends to roommates to lovers, slow burn, secret crushes, mentions of alcoholism and AA

CHAPTER WARNINGS/TAGS: 18+ MDNI!!!, wade winston wilson means mature language and breaking the fourth wall, denial is a river, pride and prejudice (2005) spoilers, logan is touch-starved and in so deep, unresolved sexual tension, shower sex?, oral sex?, male masturbation

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this took me SO LONG TO WRITE in between my busyness. last chapter before i go on vacation, so there won't be updates for a while but please send me your thoughts. and prayers. lol i'm so excited to write more. if you enjoy my work, reblogs and replies are a source of motivation for me <3

Attention has always felt a bit uncomfortable to you.

Not every gaze means well. Even the ones that specifically do can come off as scrutiny. Concentrated. Close. Seeking signals that say you’re doing less than alright. Which is not good—either because you actually hate making people worry, or because it makes you feel inadequate.

Maybe both.

But as you grew up, you learned how to manage that fear of being perceived. Well, sort of. You didn’t learn because nobody taught you how, more of a series of stumbling steps as adulthood burgeoned upon you. 

Moving to New York helped. The city is so full of people, each with their own origins and dreams and places they need to go to before rush hour hits. The hustle and bustle quickly becomes a source of comfort for you. Blending into the crowd means safety.

Hardly anyone has the time to pay attention. Both are precious currencies in the busy lives of modern people.

Which is why getting attention is a little unusual.

For example, your team at work is nominated for a couple of pretty prestigious industry awards. Though the winners are only going to be unveiled in a week or so, the office is already abuzz with energy.

Conversations and questions naturally gravitate towards you and your colleagues who worked on the same project: How do you feel? You think you’ll get a silver, at least? You guys really delivered with that one. It gets a little demanding to repeat the same responses for different people.

This, you can manage. You didn’t get nominated for your own merit, the entire team put their backs into it. Also, work’s work. Once you’re off the clock, you’re in the clear.  

But when you get home, there’s a different kind of attention you’re not sure how to handle.

Your roommate Logan is observant. You’ve known this since before you moved in together. Maybe it’s past trauma, maybe it’s just occupational hazard. Either way, his alertness lets him be prepared. Eyes always sharp.

On the receiving end of that gaze is you. But with you, it’s never unkind.

Like the time you started assembling the bookshelf without him and he got a little upset. Not for long, though, because he immediately jumped into the chaotic circle of wooden boards and flathead screws that formed in the living room, sitting next to you as he helped you figure out the wordless instruction sheet that came with the furniture. 

He was right, of course. Working with two people was faster, more efficient. The manual even says so. A figure of a person frowning as they stare into the mess of parts, a big ‘X’ covering it. Next to it, the same person with a friend, the two of them smiling. 

Better together.

Or the time when you came back home with a little globe lamp to adorn said bookshelf. He smiled softly… or was it the amber light’s fault that he looked so tender? You smiled back, more confused than anything.

“What?”

He shook his head in response, hesitating. “You’re like those… birds.”

“Birds?”

“Buildin’ a nest. Bringin’ home stuff.” 

He points to the lamp as well as the various other bits and bobs you’ve indeed gathered to decorate the place.

You hoped that the lamp’s glow diffused the heat that certainly gathered in your cheeks. 

And then there was your first time feeling unwell since moving in. The memory is fresh in your mind, having happened only last week. You were bound to break. A human body could only take so many overtime hours until it crumbled. 

The day you finally decided that going to work was impossible, he wasn’t home—already gone for a TVA mission with Wade—but his handwriting on the whiteboard was there with you. The first time he wrote something in the month you’ve lived together. 

Soup in the fridge. Get well soon. 

His handwriting is slightly slanted. Cursive but not completely, with a beautiful capital ‘G’. Simple, quick, free. 

How he knew you were sick is still beyond you. Maybe you just came home looking particularly haggard the night before.

In any case, his soup was delicious. While eating it, you wondered if cooking was a demanded skill given his two century’s worth of life experience. The image of him tending a pot on the stove made you smile. 

You thanked him when you found him already home in the late afternoon.

The first thing he did was touch your forehead. The second thing he did was frown. 

“Getting feverish, sweetheart.”

Your body shivers and heats up simultaneously at the contact. 

“I’m fine. Took some meds.”

“Go take a nap,” he said, walking further into the apartment. “I’ll make dinner.”

You watched his broad back disappear into his room. It wasn’t the fever that made you blush.

Attention used to mean you’re being watched.With Logan, it feels like being seen.

“So, have you slept with him yet?”

You almost choke on your chicken sandwich.

“What?”

Wade sits across you, smiling innocently as if the words that came out of his mouth were something as normal as ‘how was your weekend’, but you know better. There’s that look in his eyes again.

“You heard me, honeybee. Your roommate is a DILF superhero with abs you can wash clothes on, piercing eyes, and an exquisite chair for a face. Have you. Slept with him. Yet?”

He says that last part real slow like you can’t speak English. You can feel eyes from the other tables begin to look over at yours.

“Is this really why you asked me out for lunch, Wade?”

The quaint café is not very crowded, seeing as most of the customers are office workers who tend to grab their food and go. Still, there are people occupying the seats around you, and if Wade’s appearance didn’t already attract some furtive glances, his beautiful string of words sure did. 

It was a pleasant surprise when he texted to congratulate you for the nomination—Logan mentioned it to him, apparently—and even more delightful when he asked you out for lunch. “To celebrate,” he said, “it’ll be fun,” he said.

You look at him pointedly, chewing on your food. He puts on a face of mock offense, hand on chest.

“No no no, I’m just making conversation. Can’t blame me for checking up on you, can I?”

“You know ‘have not’ implies a ‘yet’ at the end, right? Also, the answer is no.”

He grins, before it drops completely, as if he found the notion incredulous.

“Thought I was gonna be Marvel Aunty Sima,” he grits. “Why??? Is it because he’s a slob? I never had problems with cleanliness while he was around. Granted my standards are questionable—”

“Logan’s a decent roommate,” you cut him off, before a frown rests on your lips. That was a heavy undersell. “Actually, he’s great. I’m very lucky to have him.” 

“Is it the trauma, then? He does need two plane tickets for all that check-in baggage.”

“He’s trying his best, Wade,” you offer softly. You don’t say anything about Logan’s AA meetings—not when he clearly said he’d tell Wade after the first coin.

Your friend leans in, fingers laced together, plate of pasta forgotten.

“You must be a special kind of woman to be immune to his charms,” he says, tone light, sarcasm unmistakable.

Who says I am? you think. Maybe a little too loudly, because Wade is already smirking at you like he acquired telepathic abilities.

“You are immune, aren’t you?”

Saying ‘yes’ wouldn’t just be a blatant lie, it would be cruel. Who in God’s green earth can say they are entirely unaffected by one Logan Howlett? Certainly not you. Sighing, you lean against the back of the chair.

“Look,” you begin, “he’s hot.”

“Fuck yeah he is. Why’d you think I let him stay at mine for so long? Have you seen him shirtless yet?”

You let out a chuckle. Wade knows just what to say to make you relax.

“Actually, I haven’t.”

His eyes widen, lips in an ‘O’ of disbelief.

“Girl.”

Shaking your head, you shrug. “What? Not like I can ask him to take it off.”

The look on his face says ‘you could’.

“I can't wait for your ACs to break down in the peak of summer.” 

“Mean.”

“You’re really not gonna make a move on him, honeybee? Do you actually not like him?” he presses, taking a big forkful of his food.

You grow quiet.

Of course you like him. But you like him a little bit too much to be considered platonic, given the nature of the one dream you had of him a few days ago.

It’s been hard to keep your gaze chaste since—maybe it never has been. Hard to look at the way his fingers hold onto a cup and not think about what they did to you in your fantasies. Hard to not cling onto every brush his body makes against yours when maneuvering the tight kitchen.

Impossible to forget the way his phantom weight felt when he was in your bed. 

When your eyes blink back to the present, Wade is looking at you. None of the usual impishness, only a placid awareness of your rushing thoughts. 

“I do like him, it’s just—” 

It’s just… what? 

The answer is within you, buried under the weight of life.

Cultivate your garden, they say, and love will come. That’s what you became. A resourceful classmate. A reliable colleague. Someone they can count on, someone that can help.

You’re a garden, but nobody ever comes to visit when the flowers aren’t in bloom.

Logan is special. Yes, it took time for you to get so comfortable with him, but never expected to grow fonder of him with each passing day. You might even call him a good friend now.

He’s nothing like you, except when you suddenly recognize parts of you in him. You’re both guarded, a pair of stray cats trying to figure out each other’s territory, circling in unbreaking stares. Waiting for the swipe of a claw or a loving headbutt.

But the tighter the circle, the more your fears are amplified.

Warning fears. A sounding alarm. The fear that, at this distance, he can see you more than he already has. Pan past the neatly trimmed hedgerows and zoom into what’s inside. The wilted parts of you, all crushed leaves and bare trees, the flower garden nothing but a bait-and-switch. 

If he sees just how much you need him, more than he could ever need you, he’ll leave.

Wade calls your name gently.

Your eyes snap to his, broken out of your spiral.

“It’s just—not like that, you know,” your murmur is hidden behind your glass, “we’re friends. He’s… a really good friend.”

For the amount of acts you keep up around some people, you’d think it’d get easier to lie to the ones who know you. It doesn’t.

Lying to yourself also never seems to work. Because when Logan sunk his fingers into you, even if in a dream, it certainly didn’t feel friendly.

Wade doesn’t push. He maintains a neutral expression as he quips back with too much nonchalance.

“If you say so.”

You feel a little naked.

Logan didn’t know his hands could feel hunger.

Not until recently. 

He’s started counting the weeks now. Fifth week of moving in with you. Your work finally let up, a glimpse of mercy since your team got that industry award nomination, you told him. The two of you decided to celebrate with a movie night while you had the free time. Your turn for the show-and-tell.

You’re biting back a smile as you tell him what you love about Pride and Prejudice, your movie of choice. The noise of corn kernels popping against a glass lid staccatoed below your voice. You talk about the chemistry, the wit, the soundtrack that sweeps you off your feet.

He looks at you, trying to mask the look in his eyes as amusement and not unbridled affection. You stumble over words, hand covering your lips.

It hides a grin. He wants to pull it away, wants to see it so bad.

“Sorry, I just love them so much,” you conclude.

“Stop apologizin’ and get the damn remote,” he smirks.

The two of you settle down on the couch next to each other, a bowl of popcorn between your bodies as usual. While the screen comes alive, he finds his attention split between the actual film and your reaction, glancing at you every now and then to gauge them.

Call him a multitasker—he’s watching you and the movie at the same time.

You’re already emoting a lot more. Biting back a smile, face buried slightly into a cushion. A wistful expression takes over your exterior. It’s clear that you’re not going to touch that popcorn bowl for the entire runtime.

He finds it outstandingly adorable.

The film establishes itself well in the opening act. He almost feels nostalgic. Reassured.

Perhaps it’s the setting: some two centuries ago, just around the time he was born. It makes age-old memories surface with a bubble and pop. Was life like that when he was a child, before the claws? He only remembers fragments that are too small to paint a picture.

Perhaps it’s from the knowledge that the two protagonists, though curt with each other for now, will fall in love in the end. The inevitability of it.

Perhaps your fondness for this movie has made him fond of it too, even before watching it in full. 

“Oh no,” you murmur, “it’s the hand scene.”

His eyebrows furrow. You sounded like you just announced the coming of a storm.

He catches that on-screen, split-second touch. Mr. Darcy’s hand grasps Lizzy’s. He flexes it as they part as if his fingers burned with feelings.

Logan shifts to look at you. You’ve recoiled your legs, curling your knees up to your chest. Face almost entirely pressed onto the cushion, hair cascading onto your cheeks. Despite the low light and mess of colors bleeding from the TV, he dare says that you’re blushing.

Your eyes meet his. Then you let out an unrestrained giggle, before shaking it off, righting yourself up to shift your attention back to the movie, remnants of a smile on your face. 

Something unlocks in Logan at that moment.

Whatever Mr. Darcy just went through, he knows. Understands the reality of it within the very blood that pumps undyingly in his veins.

His hands are hungry, too. Starvation carved deep in each palm line, trapped with nowhere to go. 

Insatiable unless it touches that certain someone.

His own hands are now clammy, clenching on his jeans, the result of a pile of hoarded yearnings. It makes itself known so suddenly, awakening when it recognizes itself on the screen. 

Because his nerves ignited when you glanced at him earlier. For a brief moment, he thought he was going to cup your cheeks in his palms and ask if he could kiss you.

The movie continues while his urges take hold. He’s never sensed your body feeling so alive. Your heart beats faster as the final scene plays, its rhythm enticing his own to respond in time.

“No! No. You may only call me ‘Mrs. Darcy’... when you are completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy.”

“Then how are you this evening, Mrs. Darcy?” 

They kiss. His jaw clenches. He peeks at you again.

You’re glued to the screen, eyes a little hazy, lips parted. Lost in the romance of it all. The television turns black for the credits. 

He realizes then, that he wishes so badly to do the same things this movie does to you. To be the reason you smile and laugh freely. To bundle you in such happiness that you’d never want to go anywhere, content to be in his arms. 

To be the source of the flush on your cheeks as you finally put down the pillow, revealing the entirety of your face. You stare at him.

“I’m gonna go get some water,” you whisper, slowly making your way to the kitchen.

He follows. Hangs around the island with you, watching as you pour yourself a glass. 

“Did you like it?” you ask.

“Yeah.” He sees your eyes light up with eagerness.

“What’s your favorite part?”

His eyes lock onto yours, aware of the swelter of warmth surging from his gaze. He does nothing to stop it.

“Everything.”

It’s week six and he’s being tortured.

If someone were to peer into his life from a looking glass, one would probably comment on how disastrous it is that the gods picked him as their favorite soldier to put to their tragic tests.

The counter-argument, however, stands. It’s entirely possible that he was specifically made to endure such cosmic cruelties. No one else would survive. His body breaks, but it mends itself back.

But his hardened heart and eroded soul don’t enjoy the same privileges. They only started recovering when he allowed them to—and that was merely months ago, after learning to let people in. After Wade crash-landed into his life, after Cassandra and the Time Ripper, after everything. 

He’s endured actual torture. Became who he is through it, adamantium skeletons and all.

This form of torture is different.

It’s a Friday night. The two of you are home, but you won’t be for long. You told him you have to go for the award event tonight, and it happens to be a proper event. The kind that involves dressing up and getting subtly drunk.

He hears you call his name from inside your bedroom, sounding a little hesitant. Seconds later, he’s already standing in front of your room when you peek out, your face the only thing visible from the slightly ajar door. You look a little worried.

“This is kind of embarrassing but I need help.” 

Logan’s eyebrow cocks at the slight thrill in his gut from how you’re freely admitting that you require assistance. A big improvement compared to the first two weeks of you living together. 

The feeling is replaced by concern—he can’t help but be bothered at the thought of you being bothered.

You look at him, still hiding.

“I’ve been struggling with this zip for the past five minutes. Could you get it up?”

He senses trouble.

“Sure.” 

“Please be honest if it doesn’t fit,” you reply jokingly, turning your back toward him and letting the door fall open.

There it is. Your back, smooth and naked, framed by the undone parts of the dress. There is no bra band to interrupt your skin. The base of the zipper is not so low that he can see the beginnings of your hips, but he sees the outline of it, and somehow that’s worse. His hand clenches, seeing the dip of your lower back that he so badly wants to touch.

And your smell—already so sweet as you are, made captivating with a spritz of floral fragrance. It hits like a drug, dizzying.

You make the view even more breathtaking by sweeping your hair away from the zipper’s path, revealing your neck to him. That’s it. That’s where he wants to bury his face and breathe you in. God, you’d be so fucking soft—

His mind flies to a thousand places at once. Not a single one of them is appropriate. 

He grips the zipper pull, using his other hand to tug the fabric of your dress tight before drawing it smoothly up its remaining track. It lands snugly near your nape.

Eyes are still on you when you turn around to look at him, hands smoothing down the dress.

“Thank you. How do I look?”

There’s a pin-drop silence as he drinks you in, pupils dilating.

Green-brown gaze turns molten in its path from your face down your body, watching the way your outfit sits on your skin. The fabric almost looks like liquid metal, it beckons to be touched. It shines in a color that makes you look perfectly radiant.

Blood rushes south at how the cut betrays your curves, hugging your waist and hips before stopping just above your knees. A far cry from your everyday loose t-shirts and pajama pants. In this little number, he sees the shape of you so clearly.

His jaw is slack as he forces his stare back up, registering your face. Sparkles on your ears. Light make-up. Lips colored in a way that only accentuates their shape—that exquisite shape.

He wants to ravish you.

Decency demands he can’t, and he is in agony.

“Logan?” you call softly, confused at his prolonged stillness. It’s been a while since you wore this dress—does it not fit anymore? Or is it the make-up that’s weird?

“Is it that bad?”    

“No, god no,” he rasps, shaking his head.

When your eyes catch his, the expression on his face spells unspoken mystification.

You blink, taken aback. The color in his irises are almost gone, swallowed by the black of his pupils, and the way he’s staring down at you from his height—

“Just… couldn’t find the words. You look gorgeous, sweetheart.” 

The sincerity stitched in each word renders you speechless in turn. He examines your face as if he weren’t allowed to touch you, drinking in details with his eyes. You’ve seen people look at paintings that way.

The same way you look at him when he’s not watching. 

“Thank y—”

A timer goes off, violently rupturing the moment. You jump, reaching for your phone to silence it. The clock shows a time that’s past what you planned.

“Shit, gonna be late,” you murmur, swiping your shoulder bag. “Thank you so much, Logan. I’ll see you later.”

You don’t know what came over you, but you reach to peck his cheek before rushing out the door.

The moment the thought entered his mind, he knew he could no longer run.

Logan tried to fight it, he really did. In the minutes after you left, he struggled, control fraying at the seams.

A part of him is embarrassed, because he can’t remember the last time he felt this way. Not mere animalistic desire—those he experienced plenty in the past—but as profound as a crack in the ground, threatening to open a chasm with a whirlpool at its pit.

Something infinitely deeper, bigger than himself.

Because that’s what he feels around you. Whether he likes it or not—whether you like him or not—the earth is going to swallow him whole and ruin him anyway.

He shouldn’t, mustn’t think of you in the ways he’s tempted to. He doesn’t even deserve to touch you. The voices in his head whispers familiar indignities, slicing his own heart open. 

But the lingering scent of your sweet perfume and the sight of your naked back drowns them out to almost nothing. He finds himself losing a battle against something else that isn’t his insecurities, a more powerful force that he’s not accustomed to fighting. 

Need.

Fuck, he can see you in that dress like a tattoo behind his eyelids. You looked so good, he might have applauded himself for not immediately taking you against your bedroom door. 

Feet pace toward the shower. Can’t take anymore.

Clothes are haphazardly discarded on floor tiles as cold as the water streaming down his bare skin. It doesn’t work in the slightest. Doesn’t steady his haphazard heartbeat, doesn’t kill the heat rising to his skin.

He switches the water to warm.

The groan he releases is strained, echoing inside the bathroom. His hand drifting low is the cause, fingers curling around his already aching length. 

He pictures your hand instead.

Smaller than his. Softer. That, and your voice whispering sultry promises while you stand in front of him, pumping his cock. A vision in all its meanings—how tantalizing you look while you exist in his mind’s eye.

Scenes flash out of his control as he tugs harder at himself. Soft flesh pressed tight against his hard lines. The intoxicating smell of you. Perfect mouth on his in a deep kiss, the shape of your cupid’s bow still fresh in his memory. All those times you smiled at him. Parted lips invite him to fall further into bliss. They felt so soft against his cheek earlier. Would feel even better around him…

He thinks of you between his legs, right here in the shower, skin and hair slick as you take him in your pretty mouth.

“F-Fuck—”

The image forces a moan out of him. His movements manifest urgency. 

One steadying hand braces on the wall before him while he conjures up filthier phantasms. His hand digging into your hair—deeper. You’d moan at how big he is, the way he’d hit the back of your throat, drool dripping down your chin. He’d pull you away, too impatient to come in your mouth, instead bringing you up against the wall before lining himself up and—

He swears he hears you in his ears, shuddered breaths puffing against his shoulder as you bury your face there. He’d press you against the wall, willing you to stop hiding and look straight at him. You’d feel so fucking good. He pictures you mouthing that to him, voice broken. Shivers at the thought of your heat. Tight and wet, clinging onto him the way your hands do on his back as he thrusts.

He speeds up. It doesn’t take long until he murmurs your name, over and over in a forbidden crescendo, until he tenses past the crest with a tortured groan. Hazy eyes watch as white hot spend slips down the drain, his long-suffered restraint disappearing just the same.

A sober realization takes over. The dam holding him back is bursting.

He prays it doesn’t ruin what little he has of you.

taglist: @squishyfruitloop @britttzy267 @tezooks @ddwnghead @dear-detested @duckyyyx @hits-different-cause-its-you @mrfitzdarcyslover @snowlycanroc

[spicy-apple-pie]

I need to hear more of your thoughts on Maps and Flatline, please

I want to hear them and consume any and all content about them, please and thank you

*gasp* Someone wanting to engage with my rarepair? I simply must reply. Full disclosure I have not read a lot of either of them this is just unhinged headcanons on my part.

So Nika, right? Kinda drawn to death because of her powers. In my canon, she’s kinda come to terms with the fact that she’ll be surrounded by heartbreak forever. It’s just in her nature.

But along comes Maps, who doesn’t see it the same why Nika does. She thinks about the wider scope of the world, how death provides room for more life to grow. Although she’s less experienced with death as Nika, it doesn’t really freak her out.

Also, she’s hella trusting and tries to see the good in everyone, so when Nika does some dubious stuff, Maps is easy to forgive and understands that sometimes people’s morals don’t align on how to do something.

Idk, again, kinda unhinged headcanony and probably ooc but idc. I just like the dynamic of characters learning something from each other.

Also I kinda see them meeting when Damian and Nika are hanging out in the mall (just as friends) and Maps sees them and goes to say hi.

Damian introduces Nika and Maps is like “omg I love your makeup! It’s so cool!” And Nika immediately gets a teeny tiny crush.

They find out the three of them are here to pick up a new issue of a manga they all read. Damian and Maps preordered but Nika didn’t get a chance because she’s moving around a lot. So she’s just hoping they aren’t sold out yet.

But they are, and Nika kinda shrugs, but is still disappointed. Maps doesn’t hesitate to give her her own copy tho. Nika refuses at first but Maps insists because she’s already read it online (🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️) and oh no it’s definitely a crush.

They hang out in the mall a bit (Damian feeling like a 3rd wheel for most of it) and when it’s time to leave, Maps gives Nika her number and tells her to text as soon as she’s finished the book so they can talk about it more.

Damian suddenly feels like a middle man because they’re both like “did you invite Nika/Maps? I need to know so I can impress her”. And Maya’s like “this is how I feel everytime I hang out with you and Jon at the same time” lol

[missust3l3vision]

Distraction

Description: George did well in uni that was until he started to crush on a classmate.

"Fuck." George said as he crumpled the test he was just handed back. The TA just shrugged as she continued on handing them out.

It was only one person's fault (his own) and yet he wanted to blame you. His eyes shot down the rows of seats and landed on you.

You were smiling wide looking down at your same paper. He kissed his teeth, the tsk sound getting the attention of the guy sitting next to him.

"Yikes mate, maybe you need a tutor?" Malcolm suggested. George groaning before nodding warily. "Here, I usually meet with this girl. She helps a lot." Malcolm slid over a number before grabbing his bag and walking out.

Holding the piece of paper in his hands he wondered if he really needed tutoring or if he just needed to switch classes.

He was used to pretty girls, they're everywhere and yet you stuck out. Like a gold star among silver ones. You attracted his eye no matter where you sat.

When she whispered he heard it, when she smiled he felt it, and when their eyes met a string of electricity shot through him.

Once back in his dorm he hesitantly texted the number, he hadn't expected a response any time soon and yet was met with a fast one.

G 💬 Hi! Malcolm from Eng 112 gave me your number, you tutor right?

Y 💬 Yes! When are you free? We can meet to discuss what you need help in then coordinate meetings from there?

George thought for a moment, opening his calendar app he was met with a packed schedule.

G 💬 Today is my only free day till Saturday? We can meet at the cafe near the econ building?

Y 💬 See you in 10

George reapplied deodorant and put on a nicer flannel before heading out the door. Walking out he felt nerves but kept his cool.

The bell jingles as he opened it. Seeing the cafe had several open tables he ordered a latte and sat down.

Pulling out his phone he let the tutor know he was there.Taking a sip of the coffee the bell on the door jingled again, getting his attention.

Walking in all her glory was the girl from class. She had her headphones in and had changed her sweater. Pulling out her phone she tapped something.

A small vibration made George's head snap down, the tutor had liked his message. Watching as she ordered, got her coffee and texted him asking where he sat.

Her looking around he gave her a wave, she sat at the table across from him. Pulling out several papers.

"Okay, what's your name?" She asks as she clicks her pen, him clearing his throat.

"George, and you are?" He asked praying to every God in the sky that his voice doesn't crack. "Malcolm told me nothing about you." He chuckled at the end trying to sound casual.

"Oh! I'm Y/n. What are your grades like in class right now?" She asked beginning to write things down. He couldn't quite get a look.

"I think my average is around 45?" He confessed. Her nodding

"What sort of things are you struggling with?"

As the conversation continued it stayed professional, the two coordinating to meet every Saturday at eleven.

They started off well, George had needed a lot more help than he had expected. It was a humbling experience.

As his grades his feelings for Y/n did too. She was gorgeous from afar but up close? She stole his breath every time.

You both have so much in common, making eschother laugh and talking for hours on end. By the end of the semester you were attached at the hip.

After the final exam, which you both aced, he had asked you out to dinner. A nice place only twenty minutes from campus.

The candles were tall, the smells euphoric, and the portions tiny. The exact place where George knew he had to do it.

Y/n wore a blue dress that was making his mind do somersaults. His own outfit a clear step up from his usual sweats.

"I'm so glad you invited me out, it feels amazing to be done with those exams." Y/n spoke, her smile glowing bright.

"I invited you out for another reason." He blurted out. Her eyes widening before she nodded, urging him to go on. "I wanted to ask you to go on a date. A romantic one."

She rose an eyebrow. Him assuming the worst he began to think of his speech to back peddle.

"I thought this was a romantic date?" He blinked. "I honestly thought we went on a lot. We flirt like everyday."

Georges mind was blank. Everything he wanted to say had went poof and he was left confused and embarrassed.

"What?" She went on to explain how she wasn't even a tutor, and that Malcolm was her friend who wanted to set her up. All the study dates were more than just study dates.

"So you like me?" He asked earnestly. "Would you be my girlfriend?"

"Of course George." Her hand reached across the table. Holding onto his "I would love to."

[goomyloid]

hi!! i love your kriselle work and i have no one else around me that talks about them so jklfhadss please pardon me intruding!!!

what are your thoughts on how noelle describes her relationship with kris to susie during the closet?

i get that she's downplaying it because noelle's talking to her crush, but also i just can't imagine being kris in this situation and hearing how noelle describes their relationship. especially in contrast to how we hear noelle's thoughts in ch2, that kris is the only person who knows how weird she truly is

the ferris wheel explanation in particular felt like things didn't add up in the way noelle explains it to susie as forced and how she can't remember if it was a good or bad thing that kris scared her and then smiled

like maybe it's my feverish brain, but maybe the atmosphere was... kind of awkward in a weird 'maybe we sorta do, sorta don't have a crush on each other' way and kris shook the gondola to lighten the air, bring it back to what their friendship normally is (of them pranking her and her being scared in a safe way around them).

it just feels like noelle's explanation to susie about them is another layer to their strange friendship and i just have so many thoughts about themmm!

ive gotten so many asks about this specific line from chapter 4 LMAO (figured i would answer the most thorough one) (thank you...)

it was definitely interesting to say the least... noelle downplaying her relationship with kris could come off in so many diff ways. ultimately i kind of interpreted as like, noelle trying to show to susie that she Doesnt Just Go And Ride on Ferris Wheels with Anyone, hence the line about how 2 people feel riding one together....

oughh it makes me sad that she tries to insist it was 'forced' LOL even though it makes sense for a few reasons. little noelle was probably smart enough to know that she wasn't gonna get out of it without kris messing with her somehow. and also crazy krusielle shenanigans where noelle doesnt want to show shes close with very close with kris because she likes susie, and also susie might get jealous of BOTH of them (wanting to be in either noelle's or kris's position), etc... regardless i think it was just spur of the moment spitballing and she didn't REALLY mean it how it sounded lol. i do kind of imagine kris was disappointed to hear it but probably felt like they had no right to be disappointed considering all the goofs they used to pull lol...

BUT YEA erm maybe in chapter 5 they should ride the ferris wheel in ch5 together erm.......... so like kris can make it up to her....please.... they should.... if it doesnt happen ill draw it MYSELF.... PLEASE...

[itsmywritingtime]

annoyingly beautiful.

SUMMARY — the boy that hangs around the woods of ramshackle is lovely both inside and outside, much to your frustration.

PAIRING — silver/reader

POINT OF VIEW — second person

TAGS — gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, crush at first sight, guarded reader, silver is truly a disney princess

WORDS — 1.7k

Even in sleep he was still flawless. The sunlight perfectly leaked between the leaves and branches to illuminate his resting face.

Finches, squirrels, and butterflies lingered around the sleeping boy. Not bothering. Not intruding. Simply enjoying his presence as a sunflower does the sun. The greenery seemed to even turn in his direction.

You sat crouched a few feet away, a medium-sized stick in your hand.

Ramshackle was surrounded by a thin patch of woods. As far as you were aware, there weren’t any dangerous animals or monsters on the island. So, you hadn’t really thought much about them until the black clad boy started making appearances in them. At first, you didn’t mind it. He wasn’t stirring up any trouble, but after a few times it got a little…uncomfortable. Not knowing if he was there or not.

‘does this count as trespassing if I don’t own the land and only live here?’ You stood up, giving your legs a break from the strain, and inched forward.

The silver haired boy’s chest rose up and down slowly, the only thing signifying to you that he was still alive. Holding up your stick, you poked him in the foot, scaring off a few of the woodland animals. They didn’t flee, however, simply perching on branch nearby.

He didn’t stir. You poked harder. Same result.

.

.

The sun started to sink as the moon took its place. An afterglow had started to form, washing away the blue from the sky and forming a purplish-pink. Stars slowly emerged in the departure of the sun, twinkling like gemstones.

You huffed, resting your hands on your knees. Your chest harshly rose up and down, contrasting the boy’s continued softer breathing. The stick had long since been abandoned.

How long had you been at this for?

It had been a process of trial and error, but so far it had only been error. You had tried everything available to you; physically moving him, stomping on the ground, blasting music from your phone, but nothing. No reaction! You were close to going back to the dorm and grabbing a bucket of water to splash on him!

Your back hit the soft dirt. An admittance of defeat. The animals had long since dispersed, though, a few lingered in the upper canopies of the trees. Your ragged breathing filled the clearing.

Sleeping Beauty: 1

You: 0

Then, there was a slight shift. The rustling of leaves being disturbed. You felt your eye twitch.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him sit up. There was a few stray leafs in his hair, perfectly in place that it made him look more mystical than he already was! Damn him.

You shot up. Fist tightly clenched. You were going to give him a peace of your mind!

He yawned and rubbed his face with his forearm. Groggily mumbling something to himself. A half-opened eye met yours. You froze. Breathtaking. His eyes were the color of the sky. Aurora.

…

…

what were you going to say?

“sorry…” he stood up, still half-asleep and plucked blades of grass the clung to his clothes. He struggled, they didn’t want to come off. Didn’t want to leave him.

You rapidly shook your head, regaining your bearings. “You were asleep for like four hours!” You pointed a finger at him, shoulders tense. “Why the hell didn’t you wake up? Didn’t you notice what I had to do?”

He didn’t saw anything for a moment, simply blinking at you. “So that’s why I wasn’t where I originally laid down.”

“That’s beside the point!”

His lips pulled downward, forming a frown. He slightly hung his head. He apologized again. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I sat down for a moment and fell asleep.”

‘That doesn’t explain why you didn’t wake up.’ You didn’t voice the thought. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed.

“It’s whatever. Just stop making a habit of sleeping in the woods. Especially when it’s far away from the school and right next to my house.” He perked up.

“I wasn’t aware you were the Prefect.” He took a step forward and held out an open hand to you. “My name is Silver. I’m a second year Diasomnia student. It’s nice to officially meet you.”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for the second shoe to drop. Nobody at this school was this genuine and if they were, they wanted something from you. However, after a few moments of awkward silence and kind eyes staring into your soul, you finally gave in.

His grip was firm. Warm. Comfortable. It matched his appearance.

You gave your own name and he gave a small smile, quietly repeating it to himself.

With the conversation effectively over, he turned towards the entrance of the woods and began walking. You followed silently behind, trying to not to burn holes into his back. When the two of you stepped out of the woods he continued walking, probably towards his own dorm. Curfew would be soon after all.

Watching him get farther and farther away, a guilty nagging feeling clawed at you. Months in Twisted Wonderland had roughened you up. It was when he was opening the rusty gate of the dorm, almost out of earshot, you called out to him.

The words flowed out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Wait up!” Silver paused, turning around with a quizzical expression. You ran over, stopping a few feet away from him. “You can rest here if you want, but like leave a note or something. I wanna know if...someone is near the dorm…”

Your words trailed off. A flash of embarrassment washed over you. A very shaky olive branch held out. You didn’t want to be left with any guilt even if you never saw him again.

His eyes crinkled around the corner, he gladly took what you offered. A breeze passed through. You shivered. His sliver hair slightly shifted. He still had leaves in his hair. You had half the mind to reach out and pluck them.

“Of course.” He spoke. His tone was warm. Sleep still lingered onto every word.

And then he left. Making away back to his dorm, completely unaware of the whirlwind of emotions he had left you with.

Kind and pretty.

How agitating.

It wasn’t something that you saw a lot at this school. A part of you wanted to know more.

A/N — NOT EDITED. You can tell where I start losing momentum. my bad!