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okaylikeschaewon · 1 day ago

Text

Unravel

~8.5k words, TPM Book 3, Part 2, smut, Series Masterlist

“A text would have been nice.”

“I said I’m sorry,” you pleaded – a feeble attempt to make her understand. “It was spontaneous, I didn’t plan on staying the night.”

“Oh? You didn’t plan on staying the night?” Sana mocked your voice, crossing her arms tightly. “Great, that makes two of us.”

“Sweetie–”

“Don’t ��sweetie’ me right now,” Sana snapped, her eyes shooting daggers at you. “I really don’t think I’m asking for too much. You changed your mind and decided you wanted to fuck another member, fine, all I’m asking is for a bit of a heads-up so I don’t spend my whole evening waiting for you. Is that unreasonable? Am I the one being unreasonable right now?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Did you sleep with her?” Sana asked directly, not an ounce of hesitation in her voice.

“Well…”

“It’s a pretty straightforward question,” Sana hissed. “Did you put your dick in her or not?”

“Technically–”

Sana turned around and stomped off before you could explain. “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath before sitting on the couch and pulling out her phone.

“Sana!” you called out after her, following her into the living room and sitting next to her. “Tzu had some personal stuff happen, I had to be there for her.”

“I’m not upset with Tzu,” Sana replied coldly without looking up from her phone. “She’s not the one who broke a promise.”

“I didn’t mean to–”

“Well, you did, whether or not you meant to,” she replied, her tone sharp as her fingers aggressively scrolled through nothingness on her phone. “It would have been fine if you just said you weren’t in the mood. You literally could have told me you’d rather fuck one of the others and I wouldn’t have cared.”

“Sana, it’s not that I didn’t want to,” you emphasized again while reaching out to her.

“Don’t touch me, I’m still mad at you,” she slapped your arm away lightly as she sulked. “Or, fuck, you could have just made up something. Anything. It’s not like I don’t know you have to fuck them whenever they ask. But no, you couldn’t even give me a call, or a text, or a fucking pigeon for all I care.”

“A pigeon?”

“It’s not like I just went through a whole fucking emotional roller coaster yesterday. It’s not like I wanted my boyfriend’s comfort.”

“I thought we weren’t using those terms–”

“Fine, fuckbuddy, side-bitch, roommate, whatever you wanna call it, I don’t care!” Sana shouted, tossing her phone aside. “It’s not like you’re acting like a boyfriend right now anyway.”

“You’re right, I’m not worthy,” you dropped down to your knees in front of her and playfully bowed your head in shame. “Forgive me, my queen.”

“Get up, stop being dumb,” Sana rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth betraying her livid demeanor for a brief moment. “This won’t work.”

“Do I need to kiss your precious feet? To show you how sorry I am?”

“Don’t you fucking dare put your mouth on my feet,” Sana replied sternly, pulling away. “Get. Up. Here.”

“Only if you promise to stop being mad at me.”

“Does it even matter if I do? Apparently promises don’t mean anything in your world,” Sana shot back.

“Alright, I deserved that one,” you smiled, standing back up and holding your arms out, waiting for her permission. She really took a moment to contemplate, to make you sweat, before she nodded just slightly, letting you cuddle up next to her. “I understand you’re upset with me, I fucked up, you’re right,” you added gently as you held her. “Yesterday was a tough day, a lot happened with the contract stuff.”

“It was tough for me, too,” Sana responded quietly, dropping her shoulders and staring at you with soft eyes. “I get that you had to deal with Tzu’s thing, but really, I didn’t expect to feel so neglected.”

“No and that’s completely valid, I fucked up. I should have at least called.”

“Maybe I’m being sensitive–”

“You’re not,” you reassured her before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Whatever you want, I’m yours.”

“I appreciate it, but that’s not necessary,” Sana gave you a faint smile. Her frustration quickly faded away, her tone softened, and her body language relaxed. “How’s she doing by the way? Did you get her situation sorted out?”

“Not really, I’ll have to stop by the offices,” you answered, your insides burning hot again at the thought of what happened. “That’s my problem to worry about though. Tell me, what do you want to do tonight? I can make a reservation somewhere if you want.”

“There’s actually this place Dahyun and I wanted to try, apparently their naengmyeon is really good,” Sana replied with a hint of excitement in her voice, without any of the anger from earlier.

“Sounds good, send me the name and I’ll make the reso’,” you replied, setting a reminder in your phone. “Hey, so I have like half an hour before I have to go pick up Nayeon…”

Sana waited patiently for you to continue, a frown on her face, daring you to suggest it.

“What do you say? Shall we have some fun and make up for last night?” you asked with a teasing smile.

“You think it’s going to be that easy?” Sana feigned annoyance. “A few words and you get to do whatever you want with me again? Just like that?”

“I mean, I was ready to suck your toes.”

“Stop,” Sana whined with a smile that absolutely melted you. “We both know how much you hate foot stuff.”

“Yeah, but, anything for you,” you replied, leaning closer and slowly snaking your hand around Sana’s body. “What do you say? Quick one?”

“No,” she whispered back quietly. “We’ll see after dinner, and don’t you even dare think about spending tonight with another member.”

—

A few days later

“You sure it’s alright?” Nayeon asked, unable to hide how bad she felt. “I’m really sorry, you know how these things are.”

“Nayeon, I get it, this type of shit happens almost every day,” you gave her an encouraging smile. “Finish up whatever you have left, just text me when you’re done.”

“I’ll make it up to you after, I promise,” she winked.

“It’s fine, and stop feeling bad, seriously,” you chuckled. “Now go, I’m so proud of you.”

She nodded enthusiastically before turning around and running back into the practice room. This past week has been tough for Nayeon, she really got no breaks. On top of all the group activities, she still had to work on her solo projects. Ever since the contract fiasco from a few days ago, Nayeon has been working overtime basically every single day; You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for her.

That was part of why you decided to volunteer so much when it came to helping her out. Obviously someone else could drop her off, but you knew she was more comfortable with you. And, well, it did come with some benefits that you were particularly fond of; Nayeon had become the type of girl who would manage her stress by getting horny – and you were her solution.

Even now, as you walked the empty hallways of the JYP offices, you couldn’t help but daydream about what you knew Nayeon would ask for the second she finished working. During the days you had Nayeon, and in the evenings you had Sana – the last few days have honestly been pretty great in that regard.

“Oh!” you were knocked out of your daydream as you stumbled into a small figure. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, it’s my fault,” the girl quickly bowed respectfully towards you before looking up at you and freezing.

That’s when you recognized her.

“Oh, Yeji, how’s everything?”

She stared at you, almost as if she was trying to remember you, her mind still somewhat out of it. “Are you…” she mumbled softly.

“Am I?” you cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly bowed again before shaking out of her little trance. “I just thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

“We’ve met very briefly at a couple of company events, but I don’t think we’ve ever properly spoken,” you explained. It was true, you obviously knew who she was, but you’ve never had the opportunity to really talk to her. Truthfully, she caught your eye the most in her group – the sharp expression she regularly wore and that fit body just always resonated with you. “I’m one of Twice’s managers.”

“Ah, right, you–” she suddenly stopped talking and began shifting around nervously. “Right, anyway, I’m doing alright. What about you? Where are you heading? It’s kinda late, no?”

“Well, I planned to go talk to some people about some manager stuff, but I don’t think anyone’s in the office at this time,” you answered while checking to see if you had any replies on your phone. You had sent a few messages earlier in hopes that you could get this picture thing figured out for Tzuyu, but all you saw was a text from Nayeon saying she’d be another hour. “I guess now I’m just waiting for Nayeon, going to find somewhere to kill an hour. What about you? What are you doing here so late?”

“Oh, nothing in particular, honestly, I kinda just came here to relax for a bit after our schedules. Sometimes it’s a bit more peaceful here than at our dorms.”

“I can imagine,” you smiled comfortingly. “Busy day?”

“Every day’s a busy day,” she smiled back before an odd look flashed across her face. She very clearly had something on her mind and didn’t know how to say it.

“Well–” you began before being interrupted.

“Would you like to grab coffee for a bit?” she blurted out as her cheeks immediately flushed red. “I just mean if you have nothing to do, I could use some company.”

“Uh,” you hesitated, a little confused by the whole interaction. “Yeah sure, why not.”

“Cool,” Yeji replied before awkwardly pausing.

“Shall we?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” she quickly turned around and started walking towards the elevators.

One of the benefits of working in an idol-filled building was the constant opportunity to see stunning women – and Yeji was among the best. Those accentuated curves in the little crop-top jacket she had on, and her perfect legs in those casual, skin-tight jeans, it all looked fucking amazing. Even though you were trying to be courteous and professional, you couldn't help but notice how her ass swayed with every step.

“It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it?” Yeji began, glancing over her shoulder. “We’ve worked at the same company for so long, yet we’ve never properly talked.”

“Hm?” you quickly averted your attention from Yeji’s hips and sped up to walk next to her. “Yeah, it’s a big company though.”

“That’s true, but still.”

“You know that I know about your group, right?” you chuckled as you followed her into the elevator. “It’s not like I don’t know you exist. I still listen to all your music and whatnot.”

“Oh yeah, do you have a favorite member?” she grinned as she leaned against the elevator wall with her arms crossed. “And is it me?”

“Okay, I don’t think you’ll believe me, but it’s actually you.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” she chuckled, stepping out of the elevator in front of you. “But thanks.”

“No, seriously,” you quickly followed behind her. “That River cover? Chef’s kiss. I’ve been a fan since before I joined, actually.”

“Oh?” she turned to you with a curious smile. “Really?”

“Even before I joined the company, I always enjoyed watching fancams,” you continued, “and I’m not ashamed to admit it, I’ve watched a lot of yours.”

“Please, you’re going to make me blush.”

“I’m not kidding. You’re a phenomenal dancer. Also, keep this between us, you have the sexiest eyes I have ever seen.”

“Alright, now I’m actually blushing,” Yeji giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Don’t do that, I love your smile. Don’t hide it.”

“I didn’t realize Twice’s manager was so flirty,” Yeji smiled warmly as she navigated the coffee machine’s menus.

“And I didn’t realize how pretty you were up close,” you smiled back.

“Stop,” Yeji whined, stretching out the word with an unwavering smile on her lips. “Do you treat the Twice members like this, too?”

“No, of course not, I’m strictly professional,” you lied.

“Are you?” Yeji shot you a glance as she picked up her mug.

There was a subtle, but noticeable, tonal shift in the air between the two of you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked as you began making a cup for yourself.

“I don’t know,” Yeji toyed with the handle of her mug. “I’ve just heard things.”

“Things?”

“Yeah, things.”

Did she know? you thought to yourself. “Care to elaborate?” you inquired as you picked up your drink and gestured towards one of the tables.

Yeji nodded, and the two of you sat down together, nothing but the steam from your coffees blocking the firm gaze she had on you. “I’ve heard you and some of the members might have…”

“You can tell me, it’s fine,” you encouraged her to continue.

“Okay there was this one time when I overheard one of the members saying something about you… something that I wasn’t sure if I heard correctly.”

“Is that why you gave me that look earlier?”

“What look?”

“Yeji,” you sighed, smiling down at your cup of coffee. “Alright, I think we can stop beating around the bush. Yes, I’ve slept with some of the members, and you obviously know.”

“As in multiple?” Yeji gasped, her cat-like eyes shooting open.

“Do you wanna get on the intercom?”

“Sorry,” Yeji whispered, leaning in closer to you. “Multiple?”

“Seems like you didn’t know everything. Okay, I’ve slept with all of them,” you answered honestly, “it's part of my job. There, now you know.”

Yeji leaned back in her chair, staring at you as she contemplated your words. Even though there was a long pause, and obvious shock on her face, she didn’t seem to be looking at you negatively. Rather, it seemed to come more from a place of curiosity. She took a moment to properly digest what you had revealed to her before she spoke again.

“Why don’t we get a manager like that?”

“What?” you nearly choked on your sip. That was the last thing you expected her to say. “Is that what you want?” you laughed, putting down your mug again.

“I just mean like, that’s genius,” Yeji continued while casually sipping her drink. “As far as I know, none of the girls have been with a guy, but we’re still… you know,” she flashed a shy smile. “They’re constantly asking me about it.”

“Asking you?”

“Yeah, but I’ve only done it once, and I really can’t tell them much.”

“Oh?”

“What?” Yeji tilted her head slightly as if confused by your reaction. “After what you just told me, I don’t think I need to hide anything from you. It goes without saying, please don’t tell anyone, obviously. I had to be pretty sneaky about it.”

“My lips are sealed as long as yours are,” you replied while pretending to zip them. “Wait, but are you serious about wanting a similar arrangement? I might be able to talk to someone about it, and due to some recent events I ended up moving pretty high in the company.”

“Could you?” her eyes lit up. “I don’t really know how that works though, did all the girls have to approve of you or something first?”

“Uh,” you pondered her question. “Honestly, I never really thought about it, but they probably did?”

“I see,” she cupped her mug with both hands and began thinking. “You know what, maybe hold off on that part. Let me at least talk to the girls about what they want.”

“Fair enough, reach out whenever.”

“Speaking of,” Yeji pulled out her phone, “can I get your number then?”

“Yeah, of course,” you typed it in for her before handing it back. “I can’t say I expected my evening to go like this, but this was nice. Unexpected, but nice.”

“Agreed! I just feel somewhat comfortable around you. I can’t really explain it.”

“Thank you, and I think I get it, because I’m pretty sure I feel the same way about you. I rarely tell anyone about my job – for obvious reasons.”

“Funny how things work sometimes,” Yeji smiled gently. “How many people know?”

“Very few. Plus you now, I guess.”

“Right,” she chuckled. “Well, no one outside of my members knows that I’m not a virgin, so I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Like I said earlier, my lips are sealed.”

Yeji leaned in closer to you, lowering her voice some more. “Mind if I ask you something kinda personal? Since you’re probably a bit experienced and I don’t really have many people I can talk to about this type of thing.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Is it supposed to hurt?”

This was the most concerned she had looked throughout this entire conversation.

“Well, you see,” you leaned in a bit closer, “everyone’s different, but yeah the first time can hurt.”

“I see,” Yeji drummed her fingers against her mug.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I assume your first time wasn’t great?”

“What gave that away?” Yeji smiled with a small shake of her head. “No, it honestly just hurt more than anything. I think it felt good for him?”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I hope you’re not discouraged. It’s not like it’s your fault, most people find the first time kinda sucks.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” you gave her a reassuring smile. “You just have to find the right person, someone who’s compatible with you.”

“I definitely rushed it just for the sake of trying,” Yeji confessed. “Nothing against the guy, but he was also pretty inexperienced.”

“That happens, especially when people get into their first relationship.”

“I wish it was a relationship,” Yeji laughed, leaning back in her chair. “It was a stupid hookup with an old acquaintance. Like I said, I rushed it.”

“Ah, well, don’t feel bad about it. Can’t change the past, and you definitely wouldn’t be the only person who rushed it.”

“You’re right,” Yeji sighed before taking another sip. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer, even if the others aren’t interested.”

“Absolutely, you have my number, text me whenever,” you smiled.

Yeji smiled back – she really did have an adorable one. “Alright, my ride came early and is actually waiting for me, I should probably get going.”

“Alright Yeji,” you stood up and held your hand out. “It has been a pleasure finally getting to meet you properly.”

“Likewise! I’m sure I’ll be in touch soon.”

—

“Ugh. Fuck. I’ve needed this so much,” Nayeon moaned over her shoulder at you.

“You and me both,” you grunted as you slammed your hips into Nayeon’s pussy from behind.

She held onto the headrest for deal life as the sound of you clapping her cheeks echoed throughout the parking garage. Thankfully it was late enough for no one to bother you, but at this point even if someone walked by, you really didn’t give a fuck. This wasn’t the first time in the past week since the contract renewals that you’ve taken Nayeon in the parking garage, and the risk never seemed like enough to deter either of you.

This was Nayeon’s stress relief. Ever since she went full-force into her solo activities, she had become more stressed than ever, so whenever you would pick her up you’d end up with your cock in her. It was a daily activity at this point. Sometimes you’d make it back to the apartment first, usually you wouldn’t – you’ve discovered more secret sex rooms in the office this week than ever before.

“Ah, shit,” Nayeon cried out, tensing the leg she was balancing on as it trembled, nearly falling to the ground.

“Just a bit more,” you moaned back as you grabbed her hips for support, pushing even deeper into her pussy. “Fuck, you’re making such a mess.”

“Sorry,” she gasped before shoving one of her hands between her legs and showing how little she actually cared about the apology. She rubbed her clit as hard as she could, and within seconds she ended up sending streams all over the concrete next to where you were parked. “Oh fuck baby that’s good!”

The slapping was muffled by a wetness that only Nayeon could bring, each thrust of your cock into her pussy earning a fresh wave. You wanted to pull out, just for a second, to see her spray like a hose all over everything – but she felt too fucking good right now. You couldn’t stop, your hips had a mind of their own.

“Nayeon, I’m about to…” you tightened your grip on her hips and pushed forward as hard as you could until you felt the warmth shoot out of your cock, “...cum.”

“I can feel it,” Nayeon moaned, slowly moving her ass back and forward against your cock, squeezing out all of you cum with her pussy.

Once your cock stopped twitching, you slowly eased out of her, admiring the fountain of wetness dripping out of her pussy and straight onto the concrete below. Nayeon quickly turned around and took a seat, trying to keep her pants – which were bunched around one of her ankles – out of the puddle she had left next to your car.

“I love how I don’t even have to tell you anymore,” you smiled as you stepped up right in front of her.

“Not hard to remember when this is a daily activity,” Nayeon smiled, pressing her hand against her pussy again and opening her mouth wide for you.

“Good girl,” you moaned as you placed your cock into her mouth and grabbed the back of her head gently.

Nayeon went to work with her tongue, collecting any and everything she could off your cock, thoroughly cleaning it while fingering herself in the process. She got to do most of the movement herself, assisted only by the occasional thrust of your hips as you twitched your sensitive cock deeper into her mouth, all the way to the base.

“How’d recording go?” you mumbled under your breath while stroking Nayeon’s hair back.

She sat up straight and let your cock slip out of her mouth, and she wrapped her slender fingers around your balls, fondling them slowly. “Not bad, I’ll probably need a couple more days before I switch up and focus on the group concert.”

“If you ever want a break, we can arrange something.”

“This is my break,” she leaned forward and gave your tip a small kiss before letting go and leaning back in her seat.

“Fine with me,” you chuckled, pulling up your pants. You walked around the back of your car and sat down in the driver seat. “I love this new version of you.”

“What new version?” Nayeon grunted as she toyed herself with her pussy pointing out her open door.

“The one that’s always horny,” you leaned over the center and wrapped a hand around Nayeon’s mouth. “You’re going to get us caught if you keep making all that noise.”

She moaned something into your hand, something along the lines of ‘fuck you’, but her frustration didn’t last long as you slipped your other hand down between her legs.

If anyone was to enter the parking garage at this moment they would be greeted by a full view of Nayeon’s pussy, but she didn’t care at all. She screamed out against your hand as you slipped two fingers into her, curling them up and thrusting as fast as you could go for just a few seconds before jerking them out and pressing down on her clit.

She reached her own hand towards her pussy but you swiftly slapped it away. “No touching,” you hissed into her ear, bringing your fingers back to her entrance, leaving her clit and slipping them in.

It was obvious she wasn’t happy about it, but she listened, squirming and writhing at your touch, trying to push you in deeper by using her hips. You played along, giving her what she wanted while still teasing her pussy just enough to drive her insane. There was a beautiful balancing act that you knew would make it so much better in the end, even if Nayeon hated you for it at the moment.

And you knew it was working – her pussy was speaking to you through your fingers. She squeezed and pressed down hard, waves of pleasure aching through her pussy with each little thrust of your hand until it all became too much. You knew this was the end, all that was left was for you to pull your fingers back out and press on her clit.

Nayeon moaned louder than ever – basically screaming – as she began squirting across the parking garage, leaving long streaks of her slick all over the concrete. She lifted herself up with her legs, spreading them farther, shooting her mess as far as possible out your passenger door, painting the ground dark.

Only once her pussy stopped spraying did you stop. It didn’t matter how hard Nayeon would cum, she always had more in her – that was the beauty of it. You plunged two fingers back into her pussy, just for a couple more seconds, before quickly withdrawing and letting her squirt again and again, seemingly forever.

“I swear we’re getting caught one day,” you chuckled as Nayeon collapsed backwards against you, her legs shaking slightly and her breaths heavy.

“I don’t give a fuck,” she panted before straining herself up and closing the door. She didn’t even bother pulling up her pants as she glanced at you, collapsed in her seat and panting deeply, slowly regaining composure. “What about you, what did you end up doing?”

“Oh nothing, just tried again to talk to someone about the Tzuyu situation, but no luck.”

“I’m really sorry,” Nayeon softened her gaze and pulled up her pants. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think so,” you sighed as you turned on the car. “I just don’t understand why the fuck she did it.”

“I don’t know, as far as I know she hasn’t told anyone about it.”

“It just makes no sense.”

“Maybe it was for financial reasons?” Nayeon suggested. “If she was planning on quitting anyway, I could see those pics having a lot of potential.”

“Really? You think she’d do that just for money? That sounds fucking stupid.”

“I agree, but I don’t know why else she would,” Nayeon frowned. “Sorry, it was a stupid idea.

As you stopped at a red light, you looked over at Nayeon and shot her a warm, apologetic gaze. “Don’t be, I wasn’t trying to say you’re stupid, it’s a fair idea I just don’t think it’s why she did it.”

“So why do you think she did it?”

“I have no fucking idea,” you sighed, slamming your hand against the top of the steering wheel.

“Hey,” Nayeon reached across the car and placed her hand on your leg. “Maybe we should stop thinking about it, for now?”

“How can–”

“Please?”

She was looking at you with such precious eyes – full of concern – and a gentle, understanding expression. Her head was tilted just slightly with a small, hopeful smile on her lips.

“Alright,” you sighed, returning her smile.

“I know something that can help get your mind off it,” Nayeon leaned over the central console. “Just don’t crash.”

“Nayeon that’s not necessary–” you began as she unbuckled your pants and began pulling them down.

“Do you have any idea how hard you made me cum earlier?” she whispered before diving her face down between your legs and licking your balls. “This is just payback.”

Before you could respond, you felt her lips on your tip. A rush of excitement shot up your spine as the wetness of Nayeon’s mouth enveloped your cock. It took all your power to focus on driving once Nayeon had started bobbing her head up and down gently.

Luckily, you were already at her apartment, so you quickly pulled over in front of their building. Since it was fairly late there seemed to be no one walking around, so you had some sense of comfort knowing you were unlikely to get caught. Still, you were on a completely open street where anyone could walk by, and it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

It wasn’t guaranteed that no one would walk by, but at this point you were so engrossed in Nayeon’s blowjob that you once again tonight decided you didn’t care anymore. You pulled the latch and laid your seat down all the way. Once fully reclined, you rested a hand on Nayeon’s back and closed your eyes, focusing everything on Nayeon’s mouth. She kept her pace steady, not too fast, and definitely not too slow – at this point it was really just your own stress holding you back from blowing.

So you tried to relax some more – as if laying here with the setting sun’s warmth barely lighting up your car and Nayeon sucking your cock as if she was your girlfriend wasn’t enough. You really tried to let go of everything, no more pictures, no more angry pretend-girlfriend, no more emotional messes, no more work – just Nayeon’s mouth.

Sure enough, it was working. Or, probably, Nayeon had just been sucking you off for long enough for nothing else to matter to your body. You felt it coming, and part of you just wanted to freeze and it let it happen, but the courteous thing to do would be to at least let Nayeon know you were about to fill her mouth. Selfishly, you decided it was Nayeon’s problem, even as she was here doing you the favor. She’d understand – hopefully.

Regardless, it didn’t matter anymore as finally you could fade away into bliss, finally you could let go of the stresses of life, the difficulties of feelings and relationships. All you had to worry about now was the fountain of white you had begun launching into Nayeon’s mouth. She squealed, clearly surprised by the first shot, but Nayeon was far from inexperienced. She didn’t let off – she kept bobbing up and down your cock, albeit slightly slower now and with the occasional whine.

As much as you wanted to see Nayeon’s cute cheeks filling up with your cum, the strength needed to sit yourself up was non-existent. You conceded to the shivers shooting up your spine, the pleasure rushing through your brain, and you lay there with your hand resting on Nayeon’s back, simply taking in the slopping noises Nayeon’s mouth was making against your cock.

Once thoroughly drained, you finally groaned yourself up, bringing your seat upright.

“My–”

“Don’t,” Nayeon held up her hand as she wiped her lips. “I don’t even want to hear it.”

“I really don’t know why I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s whatever, I’ll let it slide this time,” Nayeon shook her head and grabbed the handle to her door. “What’s your plan now? Wanna come up?”

“Still horny?”

“Oh please,” Nayeon scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re one to talk. Really, how can you even have that much left in you after everything?”

“Good diet, I supposed,” you grinned at her before sighing again. “I would, but Sana has been a bit sensitive lately, I should probably avoid skipping nights with her for a bit.”

“Ah, right,” Nayeon frowned, letting go of the handle. “You know, you could take a couple days off, I can get a ride with someone else.”

“What? Then who’s going to fuck the shit out of you throughout the day?”

“I’m being serious,” Nayeon burst out laughing. “Really, if you wanna spend some more time with Sana–”

“My job is for all of you, not just Sana,” you stated firmly. “She understands that. I still get to see her at night even on days when she doesn’t come into the office, everything’s good between us.”

“Alright,” Nayeon bit her lip softly.

“You don’t seem convinced.”

“No, I believe you.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.”

“What?” Nayeon raised an eyebrow. “Did something happen?”

“It’s just that Momo said something kinda similar,” you explained, “something about how I wasn’t taking this relationship thing with Sana seriously enough.”

“Ah,” Nayeon turned towards you some more, opening up her body. “Do you feel that way?”

“I mean, I obviously have a lot of love for Sana, but how seriously can I take this relationship thing we have going on? Like, come on, I’m still fucking her closest friends on a daily basis.”

“No one said it’s a simple situation, you obviously have an unorthodox career thing going on.”

“But?”

Nayeon smiled warmly as you read her mind. “But, that doesn’t mean that the feelings aren’t real. Forget about the physical sex you’re having with the others for just a moment.”

“How can I just ignore that part?”

“Well–”

“Let me ask you this,” you cut her off, “do you really think you’d be cool with it if I was your boyfriend and I was also fucking Momo every day?”

“That’s…” Nayeon sighed. “But then why do you do it? Why are you even pretending to be in a relationship with her?”

“I…”

“You can fuck all nine of us basically whenever you want, so what’s even the point? Why go through the headache?”

“I don’t really know…”

“Do you love her?”

“Nayeon, of course–”

“No, that’s not what I’m asking,” Nayeon stared, unwavering, into your eyes. “I know you love her, but I also know she’s not the only one, and she’s definitely not the only one who loves you.”

The first person that came to your mind was Mina and that confession from the contract renewal day. Then the others, and lastly the girl sitting right in front of you. You felt a slight stab in the chest when you thought about Nayeon, because at this point you basically knew she had feelings for you.

“It’s a bit too late at this point,” Nayeon continued, “the truth is, you’re right. I wouldn’t be okay with it if you were my boyfriend and also fucking the other members.”

“And I’d assume you also don’t think Sana would be okay with it?”

Nayeon gave you a meek smile before continuing. “Do you love her enough to pick her over everyone else? If you had to choose, would she be the one?”

“I guess I have to make that decision, don’t I?”

“That’s the thing, you don’t,” Nayeon replied as she reached for the door handle again. “But maybe you should.”

With that, she left the car, leaving you staring at her as she walked through the doors to her building – a whole new problem stuck in your head.

—

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“You smell like sex,” Sana replied without even sparing a glance away from her phone. She sat on the couch in nothing but a loose shirt and some purple panties, her knees up to her chest. “Nayeon?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’ll go shower real qu–”

“No need,” Sana tossed her phone to the side and reached up for your arms, dragging you onto the couch with her. “You hungry? We have leftovers, I could warm something up for you.”

“I’m alright, not much of an appetite right now,” you murmured as you buried your face into Sana’s neck.

“Is everything alright? You’ve seemed a bit more stressed than usual lately.”

“Yeah, just tired I guess,” you sighed softly.

Sana gently rubbed your back, holding you tight in her embrace. “Can I help?” she asked, her tone caring and full of concern.

“You’re already helping,” you squeezed, “I can’t ask for more.”

“I don’t know if I agree.”

Slowly, you lifted yourself up. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you think I’ve been a bit unfair to you these last couple of days? I’ve snapped at you and been difficult for no reason.”

“Sana, where is this coming from? Are you okay?”

“I just feel bad,” she admitted quietly, “you’re at the office before me, and you come home way later than me. I can see how hard you’ve been working recently and I just don’t feel like I’m doing my part.”

“Doing your part? Sweetheart, how can you think that for even a second? There’s no way you think my life is harder than yours, are you kidding me?”

“I’m not trying to compare, I’m just saying I wish I could do more for you. To help you.”

“You’re helping me more than you know,” you replied, pushing her hair out of her face. “Every day I look forward to coming home and seeing you here, waiting for me. You have no idea how much I love that.”

Sana smiled, a small twinkle in her eyes. “And I love being here when you come home,” she whispered before she leaned up towards you.

Meeting her halfway, you carefully slipped your hands under her body. Your foreheads touched softly, and her breathing slowed down. The eye contact, this close and personal, was unreal; There was this deep connection, silent and aching, that both of you experienced together.

Once you finally pressed your lips to hers – your eyes closing slowly – it felt better than you could have imagined. The kiss was tender and slow, full of anticipation and urgency. It felt both rushed and patient at the same time, your bodies working together and against each other simultaneously.

Her hands began clawing at your back, and your tongue slowly eased into her mouth, intertwining carefully with hers. You eased in a bit closer than you already were, deepening the kiss but keeping it tender, not rushing it at all.

Your hands wrapped around her small frame, holding her, reminding you that she was yours. Her gentle curves, her soft skin, and that tender love you felt – it was all yours.

Eventually you pulled apart, just enough for your lips to separate, and held close. Your deep breaths mixed as your mouths held just a few inches apart.

“I want more,” she whispered quietly.

“Take these off,” you whispered back, tugging at the purple panties she had on.

“Okay,” Sana purred as she pushed you back and turned around, grabbing the back of the couch and bending over at the hips. She pointed her ass towards you before she reached back with both hands and slowly revealed herself. “I’m all yours. You can fuck me, as much as you want. Use me, in any way you want.”

“No,” you whispered in response, crawling forward towards her and wrapping your arms around her, leaning right up against her ear. “Tell me what you want, because that’s what I want.”

She hesitated for a moment, shifting her body to the side.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” you whispered before you stood up from the couch and stripped down.

She bit her lip, staring up at you in deep thought. Even as you leaned forward and pulled her shirt off, leaving her sitting there with nothing on, she waited.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, taking a seat on the couch with your cock in hand. “Anything at all, just tell me.”

Her breaths quickened and she began crawling over closer to you. “I just want to ride you,” Sana whispered as she straddled your lap and cupped your face in her hands. She sat down on your lap – her pussy right on top of your cock – and started kissing you passionately.

Her movements were fast, but calculated. No loud moans, no shrieks – only soft kisses and gentle caresses. She slid her hips forward and back, back and forward, coaxing you to life – as if you could get any harder.

Then she paused, for just a moment, to reach back and take a hold of your shaft. She lined you up, slipping it in as she lowered herself down, a drawn-out breath escaping her lips. Sana shut her eyes tight, relishing in the ecstasy of you filling her up, inhaling and exhaling through parted lips, scrunching up her forehead.

Patiently, you lay there, waiting for her to make the next move. Your hands rested gently against Sana’s thighs, holding her steady. You felt Sana’s hands as she opened her eyes, taking the lead and interlocking fingers with yours. She looked down at you, an emotional smile flashed across her face as she gave your hands a tender squeeze. Then, she lifted her body up, just to bring it slowly back down.

“Oh fuck,” you murmured as Sana rode you. She was slow, making sure you felt every movement, every bit of warmth and pleasure that her pussy could offer.

“You feel amazing,” Sana whispered, speeding up just a touch.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are right now,” you moaned, your features scrunching up as Sana’s pussy began taking over your mind. You became more active, moving your hips in tandem with Sana, but she still did most of the work.

This time felt different. You’ve, frankly put, fucked Sana’s pussy countless times at this point, but there was something special tonight. You didn’t expect to feel so much, Sana’s body, her movements, the grip she had on your hands as if holding on for dear life, it all came together so magically.

She worked your cock expertly, her toned abs staring into you as she moved, her gorgeous tits recoiling with each bounce. Nothing could be more perfect than Sana’s body. The way her face just filled with pleasure and longing, the beautiful curves of her frame, and every single sexy breath that escaped her lips.

“Oh my fucking–” you cried out softly. “You’re so fucking amazing. You’re so fucking perfect.”

Sana replied with a loud moan, picking up her pace some more. She was starting to build up a sweat, putting in as much effort as possible – all to make you feel good. Her warmth engulfed you, her pussy soaked and tender. She would let out a little gasp, a soft squeal, each and every time your cock disappeared inside her body.

Every little movement felt like it was echoing, your senses reverberating harder than ever, an overwhelming sense of pleasure and delight that you still managed to swallow up. Every shiver and pulse, each one felt like an attack on your mind, each one feeling better than the last. Sana’s body, softer than ever, was doing things to you that you’ve never felt before. That mutual connection, quiet yet loud, was driving you insane. You could feel it in every fibre of your body – the end was near.

Then, as feelings hit an all-time high, and pleasure coursed through your body, you let out a sharp gasp before your mind faded to darkness. Everything happened so fast, you couldn’t keep up; Your body froze, laying there like a statue while Sana rode it out. She did it all, moving her hips back and forth as you filled her pussy up, your warm cum spilling out of her and back onto your own body. It felt fucking amazing, better than ever.

“Sana–”

“Just relax,” she whispered, letting go of your hands and lowering herself onto your chest. “I’m here, just breathe.”

Her words brought you comfort, that tone she spoke in – she probably could have said literally anything and it would have worked. Then, she began planting soft kisses against your chest, still moving her hips side to side just enough to keep it going.

Eventually, as your brain was overloaded with stimulation, your body finally began calming down. Now, alongside your heavy breathing, was just the feeling of Sana’s tender kisses.

Your cock slipped out of her warmth, and another fresh wave of cum spilled from her body. As much as you wanted to just lay there with her and enjoy the moment, you knew the mess needed to be addressed.

Carefully and methodically, you turned Sana onto her back and gave her a kiss. She wrapped her legs around your hips, pulling you in closer. You both ended up in a frenzy of passion and love, mouths glued together as neither dared to separate.

She felt so soft against your skin, her warmth radiating through you as your heartbeats combined into one unified rhythm. Her tongue grazed against your teeth, twisting and mixing against your tongue while staying gentle, like a romantic little dance.

As much as you would have loved to kiss her forever, you felt the natural end. You lifted yourself up slowly, pausing just to admire the way Sana’s chest heaved with each deep breath she took, her eyes wide and loving as she stared up at you.

“That was fucking amazing,” you smiled at her as you got off her and began walking towards the bathroom. “Let me grab some wipes, we made a mess.”

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about first,” Sana spoke softly, sitting up on the couch. “If that’s okay?”

“Sure, everything alright?” you let go of the bathroom door’s handle and turned around.

“Well,” she hesitated, waiting for you to sit down next to her. Only once you took a seat did she continue. “I spoke to Tzuyu today and she told me what she did.”

“She…” your body went warm. “The pictures?”

“Yes.”

It took a moment for you to ask the next question. For some reason, the way Sana was acting – her body language and tone – something about it had you slightly uncomfortable. You were a bit on edge, nervous maybe, and you weren’t entirely sure why but you had a feeling you weren’t going to like what she had to say.

“What did she say?” you asked softly.

“She told me she almost quit,” Sana muttered quietly under her breath.

“Yeah, she told me the same,” you placed your hand on Sana’s thigh trying your best to be encouraging.

“Promise me something,” she looked up into your eyes. “Promise me that no matter what I’m about to tell you, that you won’t tell anyone that I’m telling you.”

“Sana…”

“Promise me.”

Your heartbeat quickened and warmth flushed through your skin. “Alright, I promise,” you finally replied.

“The pictures were her choice–”

“What do you mean, her choice?”

“Let me explain,” Sana continued, her eyes beginning to well up. “She… She felt like it was her way to take back control. She said the way those guys made her feel, how special they made her feel during negotiations, she missed that feeling.”

“But…”

“I’m paraphrasing obviously. She was hurt, she was vulnerable, and she knows she fucked up.”

“I just don’t understand, why?”

“It’s very human to do things you wouldn’t normally do as a way to seek validation or affirmation,” Sana spoke softly, still very clearly fighting back tears. “Especially if she felt unseen or overlooked. She said they were nothing but kind, and that it was all her own decision. That’s also why she felt so bad when you got so upset about it.”

“When you say unseen or overlooked, you’re talking about me,” you replied quietly.

“Kind of,” she answered quietly, her expression full of pain and sorrow. “But maybe it’s my fault. I’ve definitely played a role, it’s not only your burden to bear.”

“No, Sana,” your vision began blurring. “I’m not going to let you blame yourself. This is on me, my fuck up.”

“Don’t say that,” a tear fell down her cheek. “It’s not your fault. I hurt her, even if she won’t say it, I know I did.”

“Please–”

“I love you, a lot, I promise I mean it,” Sana muttered softly as the tears began spilling freely down her face. “But I can’t, I can’t do this. As much as I love you, I also love my members, and I don’t have it in me to hurt any of them like this.”

“Sana–”

“I can’t do it,” Sana sniffled, “maybe one day this could work, but not right now.”

The heaviest silence you’ve ever experienced engulfed the room, leaving the two of you in a darkness that could be felt through your skin. There wasn’t anything left to be said, minds were made, decisions decided. This was it.

“We can make this work, Sana, I know we can,” you pleaded desperately as tears filled your eyes. “Please.”

“Remember when we started dating?” Sana wiped her nose with the back of her hand, more tears spilling down her face. “I told you there were three conditions, and I didn’t know the third one yet but one day you’d have to accept it?”

“Yeah, and I said that was unfair.”

“I know,” Sana smiled through the tears. “It is unfair–”

“Don’t do this.”

“But here’s my third condition. I need you to let this end. I promise you this isn’t easy for me, but it needs to happen. I wish it didn’t, but it does.”

“Sana–”

She silenced you by pulling you into a hug. There was just as much love and care as ever, but all you could feel was the resounding desolation coursing throughout your body. Even as Sana sobbed against you, there was nothing but a bleak emptiness in your head.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered quietly.

Turns out that Nayeon was wrong about one thing, you didn’t have to make the decision to pick Sana over the others – she made it for you.

---

A/N:

You guys have been so damn amazing and patient, and I know a lot of you have been waiting for this story to come back, so here it is! I promise I'm not rushing the chapters, I just found some more time to write as I've needed a bit of an escape from life. I really hope you guys enjoy!

For those of you who have been following the story for a while, it's finally coming next chapter, the Yeji cameo that I've been teasing for way too long. It won't be exclusively Yeji next chapter, as you might have noticed the chapters are a bit longer now, so expect some steamy scenes from someone else as well.

Let me know what you guys think! We're sort of in the end-game of the story now, a lot of teasers and hints from the past are finally going to get paid off. Stuff I've planned for years, finally turning into words. No promises for when the next chapter comes out, but if people respond well to this I'll try to make it sooner rather than later!

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfiction #twice smut

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cinnxmxngxrl · 2 days ago

Note

could you do something like joel’s love interest has strict parents and joel waits for her RELIGIOUSLY and proves to her that he’s a risk worth taking for but then the angst part is that the parents verbally and mentally abuse the reader into thinking joel will leave eventually but joel sees through her and offers her freedom by running away together. he gives her a life without fear❤️

“Run Away”

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Joel’s Masterlist here

Summary: When your controlling and religious parents forbid you from being with Joel, he offers you the chance to run away with him.

WC: 5-6k

Warnings: smut, minors DNI, unprotected piv, dirty talk, fingering, virginity loss, praise kink, creampie, grinding, inexperienced reader, undisclosed age gap, emotional abuse, misogynistic comments, religious beliefs, controlling parents, no outbreak

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

You didn’t even know how you and Joel had become this—whatever this was.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen. Hadn’t even seen it coming. But now you couldn’t imagine your days without that invisible thread tying you to him, pulling you closer. It was terrifying. It was thrilling. It was the only thing that felt real.

Maybe it started months ago, when your parents hired him to fix a leak in the roof. A simple job. A stranger with a toolbox. But the way he looked at you—quiet, steady, like he already knew what you were hiding behind all that silence—set something off in your chest. The way he moved was deliberate, careful. Every swing of the hammer, every step on the roof—he did it like it mattered. Like he was trying to fix something more than just a leak.

It began with stolen glances. You’d bring him fresh, homemade lemonade after hours spent working beneath the brutal Texas sun. He’d smile, say thank you in that low Southern drawl that wrapped around your ribs like a rope. Another time, he’d cut his finger on a piece of jagged metal, and you’d rushed to help him, gently cleaning the wound with trembling hands and bandaging it while pretending not to notice the way his eyes never left your face.

At night, you’d lie in bed thinking about him. Thinking about the way sweat soaked his T-shirt, clinging to his broad chest and outlining every hard-earned muscle. The veins in his forearms. The callouses on his hands.

And God—his hands. So much bigger than yours. So rough. So capable. You imagined what those hands would feel like on you—rough against the softness of your thighs, warm against your bare skin. You pictured the way he might say your name, slow and deep, the way his eyes might darken if you touched him the way you wanted to

You didn’t quite understand what you were feeling at first. You’d never felt this way before. About anyone. Heat would pool low in your stomach. You’d press your thighs together, trying to relieve the ache, but it only made it worse. The slickness, the need—it terrified you.

Your parents would’ve gone ballistic if they ever found out the kind of thoughts you were having about him. Or any man, really. Because thoughts like that were sin. Especially for a girl.

Especially for you. The good daughter. The quiet one. The one who never talked back, never raised her voice, never strayed outside the lines they drew for you. You were meant to stay pure. Untouched. But every thought you had of Joel was a knife slicing through that expectation.

Your mother had caught you staring once—just standing by the window, watching Joel as he worked with sweat beading on his brow. There was something primal in it—watching a man work with his hands, muscles flexing beneath sun-warmed skin. It made your pulse stutter. Made your throat go dry.

“You wanna end up like your sister?” she hissed, voice full of disgust. “Pregnant and alone without a man because she couldn’t keep her legs closed?” She’d looked at you like you were something dirty. Something broken. “Go to your room. Now.”

The shame hit you like a slap. But beneath it, deeper still, was defiance. A flicker of something fierce. Because even if she saw filth in your desire, you’d never felt more alive than when Joel looked at you like you were something he wanted.

And so things stayed the same. For weeks.

You kept your head down. Pretended to be the obedient daughter they wanted. Pretended Joel wasn’t all you could think about.

Until one weekend, your parents left town. A rare thing. They were too overprotective to leave you alone often, but they trusted you. Thought you were too docile, too submissive to ever disobey.

That Saturday evening, there was a knock on your front door.

“Hey, m’sorry to bother you. I needed to pick up my toolbox before I leave,” Joel said, standing on the porch.

He was standing there, golden in the setting sun, hands shoved in his pockets like he wasn’t sure if he should be there—and all you could think was yes. Yes, please, come in. Stay. You’d let him in without hesitation. He walked through the house like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“So… I guess the job’s all done now,” you said quietly. There was a hint of sadness in your voice, something vulnerable. You’d enjoyed having him around. Just seeing him made your day better, made life feel like there might be something more beyond your parents’ rules.

Joel offered a polite smile. “All done. Roof’s fixed. Shouldn’t be givin’ y’all any more trouble.”

You hesitated, your heart thudding in your ears. Then, in a whisper, “I liked having you around.”

He paused, toolbox in hand.

“You, uh… thanks for the hospitality.”

He turned to leave.

“Joel, wait,” you blurted, stepping forward, your fingers twitching at your sides. “Please… stay. My parents are out and… I’d like some company.”

You didn’t know where the words came from. That shy, quiet girl who never spoke unless spoken to—she was gone. Replaced by someone bolder. Someone hungry. You were starving for connection. For warmth. For the one man who made you feel like you weren’t just a shadow in your own life. He looked at you like you mattered. Like you weren’t something to be scolded or hidden.

That night, Joel stayed. You watched a movie together, ordered food. Laughed. And when he finally stood to leave, he leaned down and kissed you. Soft. Gentle. But filled with tension—weeks of craving packed into one breathless moment.

His lips were dry and warm, hesitant at first—like he was waiting to see if you’d pull away. You didn’t. You leaned in. Melted. Every nerve in your body lit up like a struck match. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a claim. A confession. A promise.

It was your first real kiss. Not some silly little peck on the lips behind the church when you were eight that had you believing you were going straight to hell. This one meant something.

He kissed you like he wanted to fix every broken thing you never spoke about. And in that moment, you believed he could.

After that, Joel came whenever he could. Stolen moments while your father was at work and your mother was busy volunteering at church. Even if he could only stay for thirty minutes, he came. The drive from his place to yours took longer than the time you had together. But that never stopped him.

Every time he showed up, you felt like you could breathe again. Like you were alive. You counted the minutes together like treasure—every touch, every laugh, every brush of his hand against yours a kind of salvation.

He’d hold you close, bury his face in your hair, and inhale deeply—like your scent was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You loved how small you felt in his arms. How safe. Like nothing could touch you when he was there. He smelled like cedar and sweat, like hard work and comfort.

Sometimes he brought you sweets. The kind your parents never let you have. “Too many chemicals,” they said. Sometimes he’d take you for a ride in his truck, the windows rolled down, his hand resting on your thigh. Those touches were everything. Not sexual, just grounding. Reassuring. The weight of his hand on your leg told you: I’m here. You’re mine.

No matter what you did together, it always left you with that glow. That warmth that stayed long after he was gone. Like his touch lingered on your skin. Like his voice echoed in your chest.

But you felt guilty sometimes. You couldn’t offer him much. You couldn’t give Joel what he deserved. You couldn’t go with him on real dates, couldn’t sit across from him at a diner booth and laugh over milkshakes, couldn’t walk down the street with your fingers laced together in the open air like a normal couple.

You couldn’t even kiss him without glancing over your shoulder, checking the curtains, your breath hitching at the sound of every creak in the floorboards.

You wanted to show him off. You wanted to stand beside him proudly, chin high, heart full. You wanted to tell the world, he’s mine. You wanted everyone in that suffocating little town to know that this was the man that loved you.

But the world wouldn’t let you.

Your parents wouldn’t let you.

So you kept him a secret, tucked into the corners of your heart.

“Why don’t ya let me talk to them?” Joel had said once, tracing soft circles on your arm with his fingers.

“You don’t know them like I do,” you whispered. “There’s nothing you could say that’d change their minds. They’re too stuck in their own ways.”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” And he kissed your forehead like that made it all okay. And for a moment, it did. His lips on your skin felt like a shield. Like maybe he could protect you from everything—even your own family. Even yourself.

That same day, while kissing on the couch, you’d let your hands slip beneath Joel’s shirt. You didn’t plan it. Your fingers just moved on instinct—drawn to the heat of his skin, the strength beneath it.

He didn’t stop you. Not at first. His breath hitched when your fingers skimmed across his stomach. His muscles tensed under your touch. He let you straddle his lap, his hands firm on your waist.

You could feel him beneath you—hard, unmistakably aroused, pressing against the soft heat between your thighs through too-thin layers.

And still, neither of you said a word. You just looked at each other—his pupils blown wide, your chest rising and falling in tandem.

Eventually, like always, he’d gently pull back.

“It’s getting late,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I should go before your folks come home.”

This time, you didn’t let the moment die. You reached for the buckle of his belt, fingers trembling but determined. He caught your wrist. Gentle. Careful. But firm, and placed your hand back on your lap.

“Did I do something wrong?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“No… no, baby. It’s not that.” He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to yours.“It’s just… not now. I don’t wanna rush it.”

“But I want to,” you said softly. “It’s not like you’re forcing me.”

“I know. I know. And I want it too. But not tonight.”

Things were as good as they could be under the circumstances. Bittersweet, but yours. Until everything shattered.

A pretty little box, tied in a ribbon, with a folded note tucked neatly inside:

For the sweetest girl in town –Joel

He exploded. You’d never seen him like that. He grabbed you by the shoulders, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He shook you like he was trying to knock the sin out of you.

“Please stop! Dad, you’re hurting me!” you cried.

“What the hell’s gotten into that head of yours?” he yelled, rapping his knuckles against your skull like it was a door. “Is there anything even in there?”

“I told you,” your mother snapped. “We failed with this one too. She’s a filthy whore just like her sister. What did we do wrong?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. The shame crawled up your spine like ice water, seeping into every crevice of your body. Your cheeks were wet, your throat closed, and all you could do was stand there—frozen. Trapped. Worthless.

“What do you think he wants, huh?” your father spat. “You think he loves you?” He laughed bitterly. Cold. Cruel. The sound scraped across your skin. “What do you have to offer? You’re just a stupid little girl.”

“All a man like that wants is your body,” your mother added. “And once he has it, he’ll throw you away.”

“It’s not like that! He loves me! You don’t understand!” you sobbed.

“You’re a disgrace. As a woman. As a daughter,” your father growled.

His fists clenched at his sides like he didn’t trust himself not to hit something. “Going after a man like that. You should be ashamed, acting like a worthless slut.”

“She is a worthless slut,” your mother sneered. “That’s why she acts like it.”

“No respectable man wants a girl like that,” your father said. “An easy woman with no self-respect. You’re an embarrassment.”

Then he yanked you by the arm and threw you into your room, locking the door behind you.

Neither of them spoke to you for two whole weeks. They wouldn’t even look at you. They acted like you didn’t exist.

You cried into your pillow every night, the silence of the house louder than any scream. You couldn’t see Joel. Your mother quit her church duties so she could stay home, always keeping an eye on you. You weren’t allowed to go anywhere alone. Couldn’t even close your bedroom door.

But every evening, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, you’d press your forehead to the cool glass of your window. And there he was. Joel. Leaning against the hood of his beat-up truck. He never stayed long, just long enough for you to see him. To know he hadn’t left.

He’d smile, mouth the words “hello baby,” and even though you couldn’t hear it, you swore you felt it in your bones, in your chest. He never missed a night. He never gave up on you, always showed up religiously.

He waited. Every single day.

After a month, the frost between you and your parents began to thaw—but only barely. They still hovered, still watched you like a hawk circling prey. Your mother called every half hour when you left the house, her voice tight with suspicion masked as concern.

But little by little, they let the leash loosen. Just enough to breathe.

And all you could think about—what you ached for—was Joel. His touch. His voice. His arms around you. But all you could think about—what your body ached for—was Joel.

The way he looked at you like you were something he chose, not something he stumbled into.

You were starving for him. And this time, you weren’t going to hold back.

It was now late in the afternoon. Your mother had gone to a bake sale at church, claiming she’d be gone for hours. You’d told her you’d stop by to help later, maybe sell some cookies, smile at the neighbors. But that had been a lie the second it left your lips. You had no intention of showing up. You’d already made your mind up—heart racing, pulse hammering beneath your skin. You were going to see Joel.

It was your first time taking the bus, and the nervousness made your stomach twist the entire ride. Your legs bounced, fingers twitching in your lap, trying to ignore the looks from strangers around you. When you finally got off a few blocks from his place, your hands were trembling, but you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. You needed to see him.

The moment he opened the door and saw you standing there, his eyes went wide, like he didn’t trust they were showing him something real, and then he wrapped his arms around you. So tight. So desperate. It felt like he was trying to fold you into his body, like he could take you somewhere safer just by holding you close enough. You could barely breathe, and you didn’t care.

He held you like a lifeline. Like maybe if he held you close enough, he could shield you from the world. Or drag you into his chest and keep you safe there forever.

“Baby, what are you doing here?” His voice cracked with awe, like he’d been dreaming of you and didn’t believe this was real.

“I needed to see you, Joel, I—”

“I missed ya so much. You have no idea,” he said, clutching you tighter. “You’re all that’s on my mind. Day and night.”

He didn’t wait. He kissed you. Hard. Desperate. Like he’d been starving for you. His mouth found yours like a man breaking a fast, starving and half-mad with need. His kiss was messy, frantic, breathless—teeth clashing, tongues tangling, hands in your hair, on your hips, everywhere.

Heat surged through your chest, through your spine. He kissed you like he thought you might disappear again.

His arms lifted you, half-carrying you into the house as the door slammed shut behind you. You didn’t even notice where he was taking you—you just knew his mouth was on yours, and nothing else mattered. You ended up like you always did, tangled together on the couch, lips moving frantically, hands already searching.

Your hands slipped beneath his shirt, hungry and trembling. You dragged your palms across heated skin, over the rise of muscle and the scars that told a hundred quiet stories.

He shuddered under your touch, a sound tearing from his throat—low, rough, involuntary.

“I can’t believe I’m kissing you again,” he said against your lips. “Felt like I was gonna die without you.”

“Me too… I need you so much, Joel,” you breathed, dragging his shirt off and tossing it to the side. Your lips latched onto his neck, hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“Mmm, baby, you gotta stop with that,” he rasped, breath shaking.

“I don’t wanna stop.” Your voice was already thick with want, your hips pressing down into his without you even thinking. And then you felt it—his hardness, thick and hot beneath you, pressing right against your core. You gasped and rolled your hips, needing the friction, the contact, the relief.

“Fuck—enough. That’s enough for now,” he said, voice soft but edged with warning.

“Please… it feels so good,” you whispered, your hips still grinding on the bulge in his pants. You couldn’t stop. It felt too natural, too right—like your body already knew what it needed, and it was him. Only him.

“Baby, I don’t want you doing anything you’re not ready to do. You don’t owe me anything. Not like this. We’ll do it when you’re ready.”

“It’s not that,” you said, sitting up to look him in the eyes. “I want it. So much. And I’m ready, Joel. I promise. I am.”

His gaze searched your face, so serious and gentle, like he needed to be absolutely sure. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. A hundred percent.”

He stared at you for a moment longer, as if he were memorizing every part of your face—your swollen lips, the blush in your cheeks, the vulnerability in your eyes. His jaw flexed. You could see how much it meant to him, how he was holding himself back, terrified of crossing a line.

He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath for hours. Then, with careful hands, he eased you back against the cushions. The way he looked at you—like you were something sacred—made your heart twist painfully in your chest.

He hovered over you, kissing your neck, your collarbone, whispering, “Is it okay if I take this off?” as his fingers tugged gently at your shirt.

“Joel,” you whispered, “I want you to take everything off.”

He growled, low in his throat, and your shirt joined his on the floor. His hands were everywhere—reverent and hungry—cupping your breasts, lips finding your nipple, sucking with a hot, eager mouth.

His palms were rough, calloused, and warm as they molded to the shape of your tits like he was memorizing every contour. His mouth was fire—wet, open, relentless—his beard scraping your skin as his tongue flicked and circled, teasing the delicate peak with a maddening rhythm.

The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body. His tongue was slow at first, teasing, swirling around the sensitive bud before latching on again, sucking harder, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

You gasped, back arching, overwhelmed by the newness of it all. Your nipples pebbled under his tongue, thighs squeezing around his waist, trying to ground yourself. It was all so much—so electric. You were trembling.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured between kisses. “The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And you’re giving yourself to me, such a good girl.”

His lips trailed lower, kissing down your stomach, tongue teasing over your skin. Every nerve ending in your body was alive, lit up, aching for him. His hands undid your pants, dragging them down slowly, deliberately, until you were bare beneath him. Your legs trembled. You felt exposed. Vulnerable. You’d never been this naked in front of anyone.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice soft as a prayer. “We can stop whenever you want, yeah?”

Your fingers dug into the couch. The air was cold on your skin but his eyes were molten, and you felt like you were glowing beneath him. You should’ve felt shy, but with him looking at you like that? Like you were the most perfect thing he’d ever seen? You just felt wanted.

“I won’t ask you to stop,” you said. “I want it all, Joel.”

“Just relax f’me,” he said as he settled between your legs, pushing them gently apart. “I’m gonna get you ready, babygirl. We’ve got all night. No need to rush.”

His fingers hooked under your underwear and pulled it aside. You were soaked. Embarrassingly soaked. He groaned.

“God—that’s the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.”

The way he said it made your belly clench—filthy and reverent all at once, like he was worshiping at an altar.

Your cheeks flushed deep red. His bluntness, the way he said those filthy words with reverence—it made your head spin.

“You’re so wet, baby. It’s all soaked,” he muttered, staring at you like he was hypnotized.

You squirmed, embarrassed, instinctively covering your face with your hand.

“No, no,” he said gently, pulling your hand away. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s a good thing.”

“Is it?” you asked shyly.

“Yes. Means I’m doing my job right. Means you’re getting ready to take me.”

His thumb pressed against your clit, and you nearly jerked off the couch. Your hips bucked, chasing his touch, your body burning for more. He started rubbing slow, deliberate circles. The feeling was like nothing you’d ever known. You couldn’t quite understand such pleasure. White-hot, intoxicating, overwhelming.

“Feels good, love?” he asked, his voice low and patient.

“I—it…” you moaned, breath hitching. “It feels weird.”

He chuckled softly. “Bad weird?”

“N-no… it’s good. K-keep doing it.”

“Just relax, love. Don’t think. Just feel.”

You closed your eyes and let yourself go. Let his fingers carry you. Let the warmth spread and grow and gather. You’d never known sex could feel like this. You’d been taught it was about biology—about duty, about giving men children. Never about this. About trembling and pleasure and the way your thighs started to shake as he circled your clit again and again.

Suddenly, the pressure snapped. It tore through you like a wave crashing against the shore. Your body arched, a ragged cry escaping your lips. You didn’t fully knew what was happening in your body, but you felt the world stopping for a second.

He slowed his fingers and leaned over you, smiling. “Jesus, you look like an angel when you’re cummin’.”

“I-I don’t know what that was,” you gasped, eyes still wide.

“You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

You shook your head.

“Did you like it?”

“It felt so intense… like nothing before. God, it was amazing.”

He beamed, proud and hungry. Then his tongue flicked out, dragging a long, wet stripe up your slit. You shivered violently. It felt filthy and perfect and everything in between.

His mouth was merciless—tongue exploring every inch of you with patient, devastating precision.

The wet, firm drag of his tongue against your hypersensitive skin sent you reeling again, your back bowing with a gasp. He didn’t rush—just tasted you, slow and deep, letting his tongue slip inside you before licking up to your clit again.

“Mmm, you taste amazin’,” he growled. “Delicious little cunt.”

“Joel… I want your—”

“I know. We’ll get there. But I need to work you a little more. Gonna be a good girl and let me use my fingers?”

“Y-yes.”

His middle finger circled your entrance before sliding in. You gasped, the stretch making your body tense.

“You’re so tight, baby. You gotta relax if you wanna take my cock.” His voice was low, guiding. “Just breathe—yeah… slow breaths. Just like that.”

You forced yourself to breathe, your chest rising and falling in shaky rhythm. He eased his finger in deep, letting it rest for a moment before starting to move, slow and steady. The rhythm was hypnotic. Each stroke of his finger brushed something deep inside you that made your toes curl. You could hear how wet you were, the slick sounds obscene in the quiet room.

Then he added a second.

You whimpered. The stretch burned—but it also made you moan. He pumped his fingers in and out, watching your face, gauging every sound, every twitch of your body. It was almost too much—so full, so thick inside you—but the burn was addictive. Your hips started to rock on instinct, needing more, desperate for what was coming.

“You think you can take another one, love?”

“Yes—yes, please, Joel.”

His third finger pressed in. Your walls clenched, thighs shaking. He curled them just right, searching until he found the spot that made you gasp. Then he kept hitting it, slow and focused, coaxing more slick out of you, letting you fall apart all over again.

“I think you’re ready, baby… you’re all pretty and opened up f’me.”

He sat back, unbuckled his belt, and dropped his pants and underwear. And then you saw it—his cock, thick, hard, flushed red at the tip, leaking clear fluid. Your breath caught.

The sight of it made your pulse thunder in your ears—huge and heavy and veined, the head glistening, twitching as he stroked himself.

“We can stop if you want.”

“I want to. Please. Keep going.”

“I know it looks scary, baby. But I promise I’ll be real gentle. I won’t hurt you.”

He stroked himself slowly, one—two—three slow strokes, then guided the leaking tip through your folds, slick gathering on his cock as he dragged it through your soaked heat, teasing your clit with the swollen head. You were dripping for him, open and trembling, your body aching for the stretch of him. He positioned himself on your sweet hole.

“Just breathe, okay? I’ve got you,” he said, his voice low and tender, a deep rumble that vibrated through your bones, steadying your nerves. And then he started to push in.

It was too much. Too big. Too overwhelming. The blunt pressure at your entrance forced your body to open inch by inch, your inner muscles fluttering in protest and desire. Your hands clawed at the couch cushions, closed eyes squeezing. Feeling the pain of being split open. It felt like pressure, heat, stretch—every inch of him pushing you wider, deeper, fuller. You couldn’t stop the little sob that slipped out.

“Oh god—shit,” he groaned. “You have no idea how fuckin’ good you feel. So warm and tight… Jesus—Tightest little cunt I’ve ever felt.”

You whimpered. your thighs shaking, chest rising and falling with short, gasping breaths.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, voice thick with concern.

“I’m alright… don’t stop.”

He kept his thrusts slow, gentle, controlled. Each push was deliberate, patient, giving your body time to bloom around him. He didn’t rush. He wanted you to feel every second, every inch, to take him fully, sweetly.

Only the tip first, only a little at a time, inch by inch. Letting your body get used to him. He wanted you to have the best experience possible, wanted you to enjoy it.

“My love… so good f’me. Doing so good. Takin’ me so good… Letting me fill you up all full and nice.”He breathed, voice trembling with restraint.

He kept carefully slamming into you, scared to hurt you. But you adjusted to him slowly. Your body learned him, molded around him, grew greedy for the stretch.

“Takin’ your virginity like this—fuck, baby, you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me.” He murmured, brushing your hair from your face.

The pain began to blur into pleasure, enjoying the way he felt. The stretch faded into fullness. Every slow drag of his cock against your walls made you clench tighter, made your toes curl and mouth fall open. Each time he pulled out even slightly, your cunt ached to pull him back in, to feel that deep pressure again. You couldn’t believe something so big could fit inside you. Could feel so good.

“Harder, Joel,” you whispered. “Please… harder.”

And he gave it to you. Hips slamming forward, the sound of his skin smacking yours echoing in the room, wet and rhythmic.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. So damn brave, lettin’ me have this first. So proud of you.” He muttered, pride and hunger thick in his voice.

It was deeper now, his cock bottoming out inside you. Your body welcomed him with every thrust, greedy, slick, shaking. Your head lolled back against the couch cushion, lips parted in ecstasy.

“You take this cock like it was made to be inside you,” he grunted. “Your cunt was made to take me.”

The filthy praise made your walls flutter, your nails dragging down his back in helpless, desperate pleasure. His name spilled from your lips over and over as he rutted into you—hard, needy, like he was trying to pour himself into your soul.

“I’m close, baby… I’m really close,” he panted. “Gonna pull out—”

“Inside,” you said quickly, clutching at him. “Inside, Joel.”

His hips snapped forward one last time, and he groaned loud into your neck as he came, deep and hot, emptying himself inside you with everything he had, painting your walls in white. You felt every spasm of his cock, every pulse of heat flooding your core. It made you gasp, your body clenching tight around him, milking him dry.

He didn’t pull out. Not right away. He stayed deep inside you, cradling your body against his, like he couldn’t bear the thought of being apart even for a moment. His skin was damp with sweat, his breath warm against your temple. He just held you, breathing hard, brushing his fingers through your hair. Slow, soothing strokes, like he was trying to memorize the texture of you, anchor himself in the reality of what had just happened.

“You okay?” he asked softly. “I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?”

“I’m good—I…” You suddenly felt overwhelmed, a flood of insecurity creeping in. “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?” he murmured, looking down at you.

“I’m sorry. I know I wasn’t very good. I’ll get better and then—”

“No,” he said, cutting you off. “Don’t even think that. Not for a second.”

He cupped your face, stared into your eyes. There was nothing but honesty in them, nothing but fierce, protective love. As if he could see every ugly thing you believed about yourself and wanted to tear it all down.

“Doin’ this with you was the most amazin’ thing in the world.”

Then he kissed you. Your cheeks. Your nose. Your chin. Your forehead. Each kiss was slow, deliberate, meant to heal. To tell you wordlessly that you were enough. That you were everything.

“I promise you,” he whispered, “I’ve never felt this good. Not ever.”

You stayed there, without any rush, any care in the world. Just being in his arms, safe. The weight of him on you was grounding. Protective. As if nothing could touch you so long as he was near.

His heartbeat thudded slow and steady beneath your cheek, the warmth of his chest wrapping around you like a blanket, anchoring you to the moment. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The world outside, the weight of your past, the fear of the future—it all slipped away in the comfort of his hold.

“I don’t want you goin’ back there…with your parents,” his voice was soft, you could feel the tremble in it “Come live here with me.”

“As if they’d ever allow it,” you said quietly. You knew all the risks. Their control. Their wrath. The strings they’d pull. The shame they’d sling like daggers.

“Then let’s run away. Together. Just you and me, startin’ over somewhere else.”

“Joel—”

“No. Don’t Joel me. Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t do it. You’ll be free, we’ll be happy together.”

“Because you’ll get bored of me. And you’ll leave me. And then I’ll be all alone.”

The confession fell from your lips before you could stop it, your voice cracking under the weight of your deepest fear. It was the kind of truth you never meant to say out loud, the kind that lived in the corners of your mind and poisoned everything good. The words felt like blood drawn from a wound you thought you’d hidden well. Your throat tightened. Eyes burned. You couldn’t look at him.

“Did they tell you that? Did they make you believe that bullshit?” He said it with anger—not at you, never at you—but at them. His voice was shaking, laced with fury that anyone had made you feel so small, so disposable. He hated the ones who planted that fear in your head like poison. His jaw clenched, and you felt it where your cheek rested on his chest. His hands were gentle even as his voice shook.

“Baby, I love you more than I love myself. What do I have to do to convince you?”

His hands braided your hair softly. Each motion was careful, reverent, like he was weaving pieces of you back together. Undoing all the harm they’d done, knot by knot. Each stroke of his fingers through your strands was a vow. The kind of tenderness you’d never been given. Not once. You closed your eyes and let the slow rhythm calm you, ground you.

“You’re the most important thing in my life, my top priority. All I want is to keep you safe and happy. You know I’d do anything for you.”

“When?” you asked him, barely above a whisper. The question trembled in the air like a fragile thing.

“You pack your things and let me worry about the rest. I’ve got you.” His voice was low, full of certainty. Not a single hesitation. Just a promise, and you knew, right then, he’d burn the world to keep you safe with him.

And part of you wanted him to. Wanted to watch him light the match, watch it all go up in flames, just so you could finally be free—with him.

A/N: Soo, to the person who requested this, I really hope i didn’t let you down and it was everything you wanted and more. Thank you so much for your request!!🫶🫶

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

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nanamisgirly · 2 days ago

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your dilf doesn't need 'perfect'　ྀི　

“w-wait—” you were panting, legs wrapped around his hips where dilf!nanami straddled you on the countertop. you pull back just as his mouth dragged open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

you don't remember how exactly you ended up there, how things turned from soft touches over dinner to a heavy make out session—tongue sliding between your lips, big hands pressing you against his chest.

it's been months of holding back for both of you—resuming your relation to slow touches, soft kisses, and ‘no pressure sweetheart’ every time things started getting heavy. since you weren't experienced and kind of…scared, dilf!nanami suggested waiting til you're ready. and you've been grateful for it, even when you returned home some night aching and soaked from just making out with him.

and maybe all the courage you gathered to tug him in by his tie tonight and kiss him like you were desperate for it, had drained from your veins the moment you felt one of his hand sliding up your thigh and the other slipping under your shirt—hot, rough, calloused.

“did i go too far?” he asked, one hand still under your shirt, fingers hovering just under the band of your bra, not moving an inch. “it's okay. you don't need to explain. we can stop, sweetheart.” his lips were swollen—covered with spit. his eyes glassy and you could feel the weight of his cock pressing against your shorts.

“no—! no… i want to,” you blurted out too quickly, voice overlapping his, desperate not to be misunderstood. but even as you said it, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him in the eyes, so you turn your head, letting your hands rest on his broad shoulders as you continue,

“it's just…” you exhaled, shame blooming fast in your chest. “i'm not confident about. . y'know.” you gesture vaguely toward your boobs. “they look nice in a bra and—uh…you've probably seen better. i know they look big in a bra, but they don't, well…stay up. they're soft, and…” your voice tightens. “i just…i've read things. about guys saying they were disappointed. or didn't want to even see them during the act, unless they were covered—” you laugh nervously, voice cracking. “it's so embarrassing. i-i didn't want you to see them and think—think they're…ugly.”

the silence that followed felt unbearable.

it only makes your anxiety grow and you feel so dumb for talking about it, maybe you should just have stopped and that's it…because nanami didn't move an inch since your little monologue, his honey eyes still trying to catch your gaze.

your stomach drops. you start to shift trying to get off the counter, anything to escape mortification. “look, i'm sorry,” you say, heart pounding, eyes glassy. “i-i shouldn't have brought it up, i—umh—it's ok. i just thought that'd be nice to tell you before hand and huh…fuck i ruined everything didn't i?”

that's when you feel his hands coming to your hips, pinning you in place on the countertop. you gasp as he presses his cock against your core harder than ever—twitching with need.

when you looked up, his eyes had darkened. his brows were furrowed, jaw tight, emotion bleeding into every sharp line of his face. “that,” he said flatly, “is the stupidest fucking thing i've ever heard.”

your breath hitched.

“i'm not a boy with a warped idea of what women are supposed to look like.” he leaned in, cupping your jaw to be sure your eyes stay locked onto his. “i'm a grown man. you think i'm painfully hard, grinding against you, shaking, because i'm waiting for something ‘perfect’? sweetheart, i'm here, aching because it's you. all of you that i want.”

his voice was low, frayed. barely holding together. “let me very clear, sweetheart, i'm going to lose my mind when i see them, i will drop to my knees and thank the gods for putting someone as sweet as you.”

your lips part, trying to breathe through the whirl of embarrassment and affection and…arousal.

“ken—”

“does this—” he rasped, grabbing your wrist and guiding your trembling fingers down to the thick, pulsing shape of his cock straining in his slacks, “feel like someone who's going to be disappointed?”

you whimpered, your smaller fingers squeezing his boner.

“f-fuck…” he shuddered. “if you want to stop,” he breathed, forehead falling to your shoulder. “i'll stop. if you want to wait, we'll wait. another month. another year. i don't care. anything you want, for you to be comfortable.”

but his voice cracked at the end—like he was hanging by a thread. you felt it too, his body coiled tight, like a beast barely leashed.

“you're too nice, ken.” you say teary-eyed, half laughing, half melting.

“well, k-keep squeezing me like that and i'm afraid i won't be nice any longer.” he groaned, lip brushing your neck.

your thighs wrapped tighter around him. “you can take it off,”

his head snapped up. “you sure?” his gaze held yours as his fingers brushed the hem of your shirt again, and when you nodded, “arms up, sweets,” he said softly, and you obeyed.

when he tosses delicately your shirt to the side, skilled fingers quickly find your bra and unclip it, oh very so slowly.

when your bra hit the floor, everything held still. like the world paused long enough for nanami to lose his mind quietly. his eyes dragged up, heavy-lidded and wrecked. one big hand came up—trembling—cupping your breast with a war raging in his mind : should i worship or ruin them?

“sweets,” he breathed, thumbing over one of your nipple, “they're perfect. so fucking perfect i feel like i'm hallucinating.”

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk drabbles #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento x reader #nanami x reader #kento nanami #jjk nanami #nanami smut #drabbles #nanami kento smut #kento smut #nanami x you

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littlemillersbaby · 3 days ago

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"sweet treat"

request: so um WTH UR JOEL FIC WAS SO GOOD!! It was. A great mix of serious and smut oml- anyways I wanted to request for him again I see alot of Joel x baker reader ? Gathered this is when they’re in Jackson but you could spin it to where reader was a baker and they meet outside of Jackson etc IDK I just need another fic I beg ty ty word count: ? warnings: +18 minors dni, really sweet sex, joel being flirty and grumpy. please let me know if i have missed anything!

even after the many years you've spent here, jackson still smells like rain-soaked wood and smoke this time of year. you’d been pacing the bakery’s wide-plank floors for ten minutes now, tracing little loops in the flour dust, waiting for him. and he’s late, of course. because joel doesn’t rush for anybody, especially not for something as "unserious" as baking, as he likes to say.

you glance at the tray of eggs you cracked, the mountain of sugar, the softened butter, and the dog-eared recipe cards you scrounged from behind the counter. miss shelley, the older woman who usually runs the place, trusted you to lock up for the night. “just don’t burn the place down, sweetheart,” she said with a wink, and gave you a key.

you weren’t going to do it alone. not for the town’s spring celebration tomorrow. you’d begged him for this—him of all people—joel miller, resident brooder, secretly gifted with his hands in ways most people never got to see, but you had. *wink wink*

“there’s nothin’ complicated about cookies,” he’d grumbled that morning, folding his arms.

“i want them to taste like something, joel,” you’d insisted, poking a finger into his chest. “not like regret and disgust.”

he’d snorted, mouth twitching at the corners, and after a minute, like it physically hurt him, he agreed.

breaking you out of your thoughts, the door creaks open, and you don’t even have to turn. the sound of his boots on wood is enough to make your spine straighten, a ripple of awareness climbing up your back.

“you bakin’ or throwin’ a damn science fair?” he mutters, already peeling off his jacket. his eyes move over the counter, then to you. you pretend not to notice the way they stick to your legs, the hem of the dress barely grazing mid-thigh.

“just tryin’ to impress the town,” you say sweetly. “or you. which ever’s harder.”

his brow arches. “you ain’t got to dress like that to impress me.”

you flash him a fake innocent look. “like what?”

“like trouble,” he says, low, making you glance away with flustered cheeks.

he rolls his sleeves up, exposing those forearms that should to be illegal. thick-veined, tan, dusted with salt and pepper hair.

you hand him the bowl. “start creamin’ the butter and sugar. use the wooden spoon.”

“bossy tonight, huh?” he grumbles, but he does it.

you watch the muscles flex as he works, the way his wrist moves in slow circles.

“did you ever bake with sarah?” you ask, casually. you two have spoken briefly about his relationship with sarah. he was very hesitant to tell you how she died, but after a couple of beers, he poured his heart out.

his jaw tenses, but it’s a soft thing, not offense or sadness.

“yeah...when she was little. she’d make a fuckin’ mess of it, but.... thankfully made the place smell like cake for a week.”

you don’t answer, just let the silence sit between you. it was kinda nice working in silence with his comfortable presence.

he looks at you after a moment. “you know what you’re doin’?”

“not really, it's a new recipe,” you say cheerfully. “that’s why you’re here, to try it with me.”

“should’ve known this was a trap,” he mutters.

you laugh, and you’re leaning over to grab the flour, one foot off the ground, hips tilted just enough that the dress pulls up—and you feel a smack.

a puff of white explodes against your ass cheek. you yelp and whirl around. joel’s holding a fistful of flour, smug as sin.

“did you just—”

“you bent over like that in front of me, ‘course i did.” he shrugs, not even sorry.

you grab your own handful, lob it at his chest. “you’re such a child.”

he lunges, making you squeal and dart around the island, heaving a laugh that feels good echoing in the high ceiling of the bakery.

“you think you’re fast, huh?” he growls.

“i know i’m faster than you, old man.”

“fuckin’—”

he catches you by the waist, spins you, lifts you onto the counter. your thighs part around his hips automatically, your breath caught in your throat. his eyes burn into yours, all the humor gone.

“shouldn’t tease me like that, darlin’,” he says. his voice is grainy and mean.

you stare up at him, pupils blown wide. you whisper, “do something about it, then”

his lips crash into yours too quickly to even comprehend. the kiss was completely savage. no sweet build-up or gentle asking, his hand cups the back of your neck, fingers threaded through your hair, tugging until your mouth opens wider under his. his tongue licks into you like he’s starved for it, like the taste of you is the first thing he’s allowed himself to want in years.

your legs hook around his waist, heels digging into the meat of his ass. he grunts into your mouth, grinding forward, and you feel the thick, heavy line of him through his jeans.

“fuck,” he mutters against your lips, voice thick with gravel. “you planned this, didn’t you? struttin’ around in that little thing—bendin’ over like you wanted my goddamn hands all over you.”

you nod, panting, lips kiss-bitten and tingling.

“yeah?” he hisses, gripping your thighs and dragging you closer to the edge of the counter. “then you’re gettin’ what you asked for.”

his mouth dips to your neck, licking and biting. his salt and pepper beard scrapes the sensitive skin as he drags his lips lower, working open-mouthed kisses along your throat, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts.

“take it off,” he growls, tugging at the hem of your dress.

you lift your arms, and he peels it off slowly, but the second it’s over your head, his control breaks.

“jesus,” he mutters, staring at you in nothing but a lacy bra and matching panties, flour dusted across your hips. “fuckin’ look at you.”

he sinks to his knees.

that's a sight to see, joel miller on his knees.

your hands scramble for something to hold onto as he spreads your thighs, dragging you forward until your ass is barely balanced on the edge of the counter. he kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other.

“you know what’s the best part of bakin’?” he asks, voice dark and close.

you shake your head, too breathless to answer.

“gettin’ to taste what you made.”

his mouth presses against the damp cotton of your panties, tongue laving up the center, making your hips jerk.

“you..fuck—joel—”

he hums against you, fingers digging into your hips to hold you still. then he hooks a finger into the waistband and peels your panties down, dragging them over your knees, off your ankles.

he looks up at you from between your legs, eyes firey, lips already wet with you.

“keep your fuckin’ eyes on me.” his tongue slides between your folds, slow at first, savoring you; he licks broad and flat, then teasing, flicking over your clit just to hear you whimper.

your thighs begin to shake.

“more,” you beg, voice breaking.

he gives it to you. sucks your clit into his mouth, rolls his tongue around it like he’s drawing circles on your spine. his fingers join the party—one thick finger sliding into you, crooking just right, then a second stretching you open.

his beard is slick with your arousal. he groans like he needs the taste, like your pussy is the only thing that’s ever mattered.

you claw at his hair, hips bucking wildly against his mouth.

“you gonna cum for me, baby?” he asks, tongue fucking back in before you can answer.

you cum with a choked cry, thighs clamped around his head, heels drumming against his back.

he doesn’t stop. just continues to lick you through it, makes you ride it out until you’re twitching and whimpering his name like a chant.

he finally stands, face soaked and shining with you. he drags the back of his hand across his mouth, but doesn’t wipe all of it away.

“never tasted anything sweeter,” he mutters.

then his hands are on his belt. the worn leather creaks, and the somewhat rusted zipper hisses. he pulls his cock free and it’s thick, long and heavy with a flushed red tip.

“joel—”

he shoves your knees up, crowding in between them, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock.

“look at this mess,” he growls, dragging the head through your folds. “so fuckin’ wet for me. you wanted it, now take it.”

he pushes in, instantly. his cock splits you slow, and wide continuing to drag along walls already swollen from his mouth.

you grip his shoulders hard, fingertips digging into muscle. he’s not even all the way in and your pussy’s already fluttering, already trying to squeeze around him like it’s too much—like he built it for you and you’re still not ready.

“joel,” you gasp, voice strangled, “fuck—fuck me—”

he stills, deep enough that your breath catches in your throat.

“you feel that?” he growls, hand cupping your jaw, angling your face up so you have to look him in the eye. “how tight you are around me? like you’re tryin’ to keep me in.”

you whimper as his cock pulses inside you.

“this what you wanted, sugar?” he grits through his teeth. “havin’ me take you right here? bent over flour and cookie dough?”

“yes,” you whine. “wanted it all day, wanted you—”

he starts to move. slow grind, hips rolling, his cock dragging against every single hypersensitive nerve like he’s trying to reprogram your body from the inside out.

“say it again.”

“wanted you,” you cry, fingers fisting in his shirt. “wanted your hands, your mouth—your cock, joel—”

he groans and slams into you, the counter creaking, your breath punched from your lungs.

“that’s it,” he growls, picking up the pace, fucking you deeper now, hard and mean and perfect. “you know how long i been thinkin’ about this? thinkin’ about takin’ this sweet little body—watchin’ that mouth beg me for more while you come all over my fuckin’ face?”

you can’t even answer him. you’re a complete mess, legs trembling, mouth open, just a mess.

he leans down, forehead to yours, panting against your lips.

“you don’t even know, do you?” he says. “how fuckin’ crazy you make me. God, the way you look at me, the way you talk—all that smartass mouth—and i been wantin’ to shut it with my dick since the day you showed up.”

“then do it,” you whimper, dazed and desperate. “joel, please—please—”

he pulls out and grabs your throat. not choking you—just slightly guiding. his cock taps your lips, stil wet with your arousal.

“open up.”

you moan around him as soon as he pushes in, filling your mouth.

“gotdamn,” he groans, head tipped back. “that’s it, baby...suck it like you mean it.”

you swirl your tongue around the tip, lips stretched wide. your hands grip his thighs, your throat working as he fucks your mouth slow.

“look so fuckin’ good like this,” he mutters. “slobberin’ all over me.”

you pull off with a wet pop. “want you back inside me,” you whisper, spit and precome slick on your chin. “please—want you to ruin me, joel.”

his hands are on you in a second—turning you, bending you over the counter, yanking your ass up. he slaps it once, the crack loud in the quiet bakery.

“ask me nice.”

“joel, please—fuck me. hard.... don’t stop till i’m cryin’.”

he drives into you in one savage thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

“you asked for it,” he growls, and starts pounding into you, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise you. the counter shakes beneath you. something falls off the shelf, shatters on the floor. yet neither of you care.

his balls slap your clit on every thrust, your juices loud and wet and obscene.

“you hear that?” he snarls. “that’s how wet you are for me. so desperate, so fuckin’ needy.” you can't help crying at the immense pleasure—tears dripping off your chin, mouth open on a moan that never ends.

“you gonna come for me again?”

“yes, yes—joel, i’m—fuck—i’m gonna—”

he reaches around, finds your clit, rubs it in tight messy circles. “then do it....cum pretty,”

your whole body spasms, toes curling, back arching, choking on a scream as your pussy clenches tight around him, milking his cock.

joel snarls, fingers digging deeper, hips jerking once, twice—then he comes. spilling inside you with a guttural moan.

you feel the heat of it, dripping out as he keeps fucking into you slow, like he doesn’t want to stop.

you both sag over the counter, chests heaving.

“...still think bakin’s for suckers?” you rasp, voice shot.

he huffs a laugh against your shoulder.

“depends what i’m bakin’ in.”

special tags: @inbred-eater , @wintfleur , @555aturn

#𓇢𓆸 requests #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #tlou fic #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #divider by @i-mmaculatus #gif by @ransomflanagan

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bunny-jpeg · 2 days ago

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military things again - simon having his grey shirt with his last name painted across the back of it. thing has been through the wringer all these years and by god is it comfortable on you. the familiar fabric up against your skin, the heather grey colour had been faded and the cotton was stretched for years of wear.

it was a comfortable shirt to wear around the house. baggy enough to cover just below your ass. and it always smelled like your simon. and funny enough, he loved it on you. loved it more than any kind of fancy lingerie you could ever wear.

he was certain if you wanted something pretty to wear that he'd happily get it for you. anything for his dove, but he loved how you looked into the shirt. it should have been thrown out years ago, and he had enough extra ones to give to you. But this one you called your own, it was the one he got when you first started dating.

when he was a new recruit and you were waiting for him after qualification. sometimes he thought you loved the garment more than the pretty wedding ring he eventually proposed with. the gleaming gold band and the bright ruby were pale in comparison to the ratty shirt you loved.

but simon didn't mind, as he watched you get out of bed to get your water bottle off the dresser where the television was. you reached a little to grab it and thus he got a proper look at your behind while the shirt slipped up. made him shift in bed, pull the covers off of him.

you looked good in it, especially when all that was underneath was a simple little pair of panties. excited your husband to no end.

"come here, angel." he said softly before you crawled back into bed with him. he got a strong arm over your shoulders and pulled you in for a heated kiss. he needed to feel you, you felt amazing in his arms. it excited him. he squeezed onto you a little tightly and you giggled as you clinged to him.

you felt right in his arms. then again, of course his wife would feel right in his arms. he peppered your face with kisses while he let his hands wander across your form. you giggled into the kiss.

"that's my girl." he cooed, "fuck, you feel perfect in my arms. who let you be so perfect for me." he squeezed your behind and you giggled into the kiss. he pushed up the shirt a little to get a better feel of you, you only moaned into the kiss. you enjoyed the feeling of his lips against yours.

his hands grazed across your skin, it felt right. so right to have you in his lap. you were the perfect size for him. with curves that drove him wild, he adored you. loved you beyond words. he needed you badly, in that over-sized grey t-shirt. his name across your shoulders, it felt right. so right. you were made to be mrs. simon riley. your place with him, in his arms.

it was almost like you could read his mind, you moved to get out of your panties and then soon the shirt came off as well. he cupped your breasts and licked his lips. you were beyond beautiful, aphrodite incarnate. the most lovely creature he could ever conjure up in his mind, in his arms.

he kissed at you, gave you the quiet affection you deserved. it was a great feeling, he always needed you deeply. your bra soon ended up on the floor and he laid back in the pillows and got his cock out of his sweatpants.

he admired your naked body in the low glow of the television. he licked his lips and put his hands on your hips as you slowly sank down on his cock. while he loved the way his old t-shirt looked on you, you looked better naked. completely nude for him. only for his eyes to admire, his hands to touch. it was his, all his.

in every way one person could have another, he had you.

it was heaven.

the kisses continued, heated with a certain passion that left you achy for more. you needed your man, your husband. the one who brought a sense of light into your life. the one who smothered you in tight hugs and heavy kisses.

"you look good." he said, "with my name across your back. like ya own it. make it seem like riley was your last name from the start."

you giggled as you moved your hips in time with his, "you could have taken my last name."

he chuckled lightly, "too much of a traditionalist, love." he knew that was a lie, he loved his modern woman. and if you asked to keep your name or have him change his, he would have easily complied. he pulled you in for another searing kiss. you moaned into it and he wrapped his strong arms around you.

you held his face while you moved against him. the racing of your heart burned in your soul. you moaned loudly and he leaned in for another hot kiss.

"fuck, si." you moaned.

"i got you, dove. always got ya. all mine, forever. that's why i got that ring on ya." he kissed at your neck as you continued to move up an down on his cock.

you felt the swirl of pleasure in your core as you rutted against him. the feeling felt amazing. there was something so deep about your love for your husband, a feeling he shared with you. you were beautiful on top of him. his hands found your breasts and he pinched the nipples and rolled them between his thumbs and pointer fingers. he groaned as your pussy clenched around him.

it felt good, so good, in the low light of your shared bedroom. to feel his love up against yours, his body so close. the way you always wanted him. you went in for another searing kiss, your short nails dug across his shoulders. he moaned against your lips and you drank in the feeling and sounds of him.

it was heaven, it felt amazing. it stirred in your gut and made your thighs trembled as the two of you continued to make love on your bed.

"my missus." he said lowly, "missus riley, the only woman to love a dog like me," he chuckled lightly before he went in for another hot kiss against your lips. you moaned and held on tighter. the feeling of pleasure crashed over you in a way that kept the two of you moving against one another.

your soft tits pressed against his soft pecs, the two of your melded against one another in a heated bliss. the heat grew between the both of you.

you whined, "my darling, darling husband." you then lightly chuckled as the pleasure grew in you. your thighs clenched around him and you continued to rock against him. you shared another messy kiss as the heat continued to grow.

you knew you weren't going to last much longer. you held onto him tightly and rocked against him. the pleasure bloomed in your core and you felt needy for your beloved husband. you two shared another heated kiss and he held onto you tightly for support as climax washed over you.

"i love you." you squeaked as you moved against him.

he held you close and replied, "i love you too, love you so very much." then kissed at you face as you came. he continued to move against you, "cum for me, angel. let it all out for me." he kissed your lips as you moaned against his lips.

you slowed your pace to a stop and he continued to work himself against you. he peppered your face with kisses as he leaned you back on the bed and he got on top of you for a classic missionary position.

he hiked your hips up and thrusted against you. he pressed himself against you and gave you another messy kiss before he finished inside of you. as he came he looked into your eyes and panted, "that's my girl, that's my girl." then kissed your flushed cheek as he continued to rock his hips against yours.

"my beautiful, lamb." he purred as he kissed your sweaty forehead before he got off of you and had you laid down next to him on top of the pillows once more. he draped an arm over your side as you both laid there sweaty. he kissed you a few more times. he said lowly, "i love you.

"i love you too. now where's that shirt of yours." you tried to go find it in the low light of the bedroom.

he chuckled as he laid back in the pillows and watched you naked and trying to find the t-shirt on the bedroom floor. he remarked, "gonna have that shirt forever."

"yep, and i'm gonna be buried in it too." you said cheekily before you found it.

simon simply smirked, if you were a riley for the rest of your life. then he'd be a very happy man <3

#bunny writes #reader insert #call of duty #call of duty smut #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanart #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost smut #ghost smut #call of duty x reader

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dixons-sunshine · 1 day ago

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‘Cause I’m So Into You | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everyone could see the hearts in your eyes whenever Joel Miller entered the room. The way you naturally gravitated towards him, the way you sought him out in a crowd, all of it. Joel, however, appeared oblivious to your crush, not having any idea about your feelings... or did he?

Genre: Smut

Era: Jackson!Joel

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of unrequited feelings, smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, a lot of petnames from Joel (darling, baby, etc), no use of y/n, maybe ooc Joel.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: This took embarrassingly long to finish writing, and I’m not 100% sure how I feel about this, but I hope you all like it nonetheless! And thank you to the amazing @dixonsdarkelf for hyping this up 💜 (and for having to listen to me say “I need to finish this Joel fic” for two weeks lol)

Anyone could see that you had the biggest crush on the brooding, grumpy Joel Miller. Anyone could see the way your mood brightened whenever he entered the room, how you hung on to every word he uttered, how you jumped at any opportunity to be around the man, no matter how insignificant the task was you offered to help him with. Anyone could see the hearts in your eyes whenever Joel Miller was the topic of discussion or anywhere in your vicinity.

Everyone except the man himself. Joel appeared completely oblivious to your feelings, and it both relieved and frustrated you to no end. Relief because he didn’t know about them, yet frustrated because maybe if he did know about them, he could inevitably let you down and you could try and get over the crush you had on him.

But he didn’t, and despite your best efforts, the man infiltrated every crevice of your mind. He was the starring attraction in your daydreams, and that was not about to change anytime soon.

Bounding up the porch steps with a heavy sigh but a polite smile, you knocked on the front door and waited for a response. You tightly gripped the container in your hands, two sandwiches inside of it. You quietly braced yourself as you heard the unmistakable sound of Joel’s voice yelling “come in!” from someone inside the damaged home, opening the door and pushing inside.

“Joel?” you called out tentatively, your eyes scanning over the mess that was the inside of the run down house. Dirt and grime covered the walls, the wood of the floor had begun to rot and somehow, an astonishing amount of small rocks covered every area of the house.

The home had been neglected for years, and it clearly showed.

“In here!”

Following the direction of his call, you made your way down the narrow hallway and into what appeared to be a bedroom, if the lone mattress in the corner was anything to go by. There, smack in the middle of the room, sitting cross legged on the floor, was Joel Miller, clad in a gray button down shirt, black jeans that had seen better days, his hair an unruly mess of curls on top of his head, and sporting a pair of reading glasses. His eyes, brown like the sweetest chocolate, flickered up from the object in his hand to meet yours, sending a nod of acknowledgement towards you.

“What can I do for you, darlin’?” Joel asked easily, his gruff, southern twang sending shivers over your spine. Was it just you, or was there something insanely hot about the way his accent made his speech sound?

Clearing your throat, you lifted the container in your hands, showcasing the sandwiches you had prepared for him—all under the guise to potentially spend more time with the man. “I made lunch,” you said, an easy smile spreading across your face. “Tommy said that he couldn’t get you to leave and eat something, so I thought I’d bring you some food.”

Joel didn’t say anything for a moment. He simply stared at you, peering up through his glasses—the glasses that made him look so much hotter, if that was even humanly possible—before allowing a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips. Clearing his throat, he placed the object—what appeared to be a broken cuckoo clock—down on the ground and pushed himself up, dusting his hands on his jeans before stepping closer to you.

“Well that’s awfully kind of you,” Joel began, reaching to take the Tupperware from your grasp. “Thank you.”

When Joel’s fingers brushed against yours, it was like electricity shot through your veins and spread through your whole body. Your heart sped up to a rate that was unnatural, your skin felt warm and your palms felt clammy. It was insane how Joel could affect you this much with something as simple as a mere brush of his fingers against yours.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to compose yourself. You would think that after months of this one-sided pining, you’d have gotten better at pretending like Joel didn’t have any affect on you. But alas, he did.

And those goddamn reading glasses did nothing to stop your mind from drifting in far more nefarious directions.

“You’re welcome,” you said with a smile, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your pants. After a few beats of silence, you spoke up again, “What are you working on?”

Meeting your eyes once more, Joel offered an easy—albeit slightly awkward—smile, something that you’d seen him do more and more as he settled into Jackson and got familiar with life inside the safety of the walls, though it never failed to make your heart skip a beat. “A clock for Maria,” he explained, opening the lid of the container and taking one of the sandwiches out. “I accidentally broke it a few days ago and she seemed real upset ‘bout it. Figured it’d be a good way to get back into her good graces, fixin’ it and whatnot.”

Laughing lightly, you nodded. “Oh, so that’s why she told me not to waste the ‘good meat’ on you.”

“Probably.”

Joel managed a small chuckle, taking a bite of the sandwich and closing his eyes in satisfaction, a deep, low groan resonating from his chest, and it made a jolt of heat flash through your body. Not now, you reminded yourself. Now is definitely not the time.

“Good?” you asked shakily, your eyes unwillingly trailing down to the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Joel nodded. “Real good.” He took another bite. “I didn’t even realize how hungry I was,” he told you through the mouthful, his words truthful. He hadn’t eaten all day, so this meal was a godsend.

You were immensely surprised by his admission. You remembered the time you could barely get a word out of the man, much less a confession like that.

Subtly shaking your head to bring you back to reality, you smiled at him. “That’s what happens when you don’t take care of yourself, Miller,” you joked, trying your hardest to keep your eyes locked on his.

Joel chuckled a little. “Guess so.”

The silence between the two of you stretched on for a good number of seconds. In the few months that you’d known Joel, you had come to realize that he was a man of few words, keeping conversations straightforward and to the point. This was probably the longest conversation you’d had with the man since meeting him.

Yet despite that fact, your crush grew stronger with each day that passed.

You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, nervously fiddling with your fingers. You tried your absolute best to appear confident, nonchalant, like his mere presence wasn’t doing things to you, making your mind wander in every unholy direction it could. The term “down bad” fit you like a glove to a hand.

“Well I should probably leave you to… all this.” You vaguely gestured around the room. “You probably didn’t just come here to fix a broken clock.”

Joel took the last sandwich and closed the lid of the container. “Wish it was that easy.” He handed it back to you, and you watched the way those glasses of his slightly slipped down the bridge of his nose. “Thanks for the food. Appreciate it.”

“No problem. See you later?”

Joel nodded. “See you.”

With a parting smile, you walked out of the room, before stopping in the hallway. You wanted to leave, but you also wanted to plant yourself down with him and keep him company. However, you knew Joel liked the silence, and he hadn’t asked you to stay, so you didn’t want to overstay your welcome. You knew what you had to do. You needed to leave, go back home, possibly go immerse yourself in tidying up the place or relaxing on the couch with one of those crappy romance books you borrowed from Maria.

So why couldn’t you bring yourself to leave?

Your feet started moving on their own accord. You made your way back into the room where Joel was, and you stopped in your tracks when you saw he hadn’t moved from the spot you left him in. The sandwich you had made him was gone, probably eaten in your temporary absence, his glasses perched atop the small, wobbly table behind him, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you…

Knowingly? Was he looking at you knowingly?

Your breath got caught in your throat, your heart speeding up at the prolonged eye contact. Joel stayed still, silent, waiting for you to make the first move. His brown, coffee-like eyes flickered over your face, and you suddenly felt naked under his gaze, despite being fully clothed. It was like he could see into your soul, read your thoughts like they were words in a book, and it sent shivers over your spine.

And then, unable to stop yourself, the words came out like word vomit.

“I like you,” you blurted out quickly, your mouth working faster than your brain. Stop, you told yourself. Run away and forget this ever happened. Say that you were just joking and move on with your life.

Joel quirked an eyebrow at you, his face stoic and neutral, not showing anything about what he might be feeling. “What?”

Fuck, now look what you did, you chided yourself. However, despite your fight or flight kicking in, with the latter feeling extremely tempting, you didn’t go anywhere. You sighed and straightened your posture, deciding that it was now or never. Maybe by doing this, he could finally let you down and you could move on with your life. Maybe by letting you down, you would be able to look back on this moment years from now and laugh at how ridiculous this little—well, huge—crush was. Just maybe.

“I like you,” you reiterated, screwing your eyes shut. “I like you a lot, more than I’m probably supposed to like you. I tried not to, but I can’t help it. You’re just… you, and this stupid crush just keeps getting bigger. So please, let me down so that I can get over it and move on with my life.”

The silence that followed your confession was almost deafening. One could hear a pin drop, that’s how quiet it was. You kept your eyes closed, unable to even look at Joel. You weren’t sure what you would see on his face. Would it be anger? Amusement? Indifference? Or worse... disgust?

The sound of the floorboards creaking filled the air, and then you felt a presence in front of you, accompanied by the press of something warm against your cheek. You gasped and opened your eyes, standing nearly toe to toe with Joel, his eyes locked on yours. If your heart was beating fast before, it was nothing compared to the way it galloped like a horse now.

“Oh, darlin’,” he spoke up, his words slow, careful, almost like he was testing the waters, “you think I didn’t know?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

Your breathing grew quicker, Joel’s gaze intense as he peered at you, that half smirk you had grown accustomed to present on his handsome features. His hand—still cupping your face—was rough, calloused, marked with years of hard work and labour, both before and after the world went up in flames, both metaphorically and literally speaking.

“You really think I’m that blind?” Joel spoke up, snapping you from your thoughts. “Sweetheart, I don’t need glasses to see how you’re feelin’.” He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, the action sending goosebumps over your flesh, and used his other hand to remove the now infamous reading glasses. “You think you’re so good at hidin’ it, but you ain’t. Not really.”

You were left speechless, both from the close proximity to Joel—you had never been this close to him before—and the fact that he knew. He knew all along? No, that wasn’t possible. Wouldn’t he have said something?

“I—what? You—I—”

Joel’s smirk grew the tiniest bit. “Sh, sh, sh. It’s okay, baby. Calm down.”

Calm down? With him standing close enough that you could feel his body heat? With his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin so softly, so tenderly, like you were fine porcelain he was scared he would break? With his lips so close, all you had to do was lean in and capture them with yours and finally make that dream a reality?

Yeah, you definitely would not be calming down anytime soon.

“You knew?” you finally managed to choke out, your eyes wide.

Joel nodded, raising his other hand so that he could cup both of your cheeks in his hands. “Subtlety ain’t your strong suit.” He tilted his head slightly, his eye contact never wavering. “You want me to let you down? Say that I don’t think ‘bout you?”

“I—” you began, before getting cut off.

“You want me to lie to you? ‘Cause if that’s what you want, I’m afraid that I can’t make that happen.”

You were speechless. There was absolutely no way this was happening right now. You must be dreaming, because there was no way Joel Miller was saying all these things to you.

Joel wet his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, his eyes darting down to your lips. “May I?”

Your heart was pounding out of your ribcage at this point. There was no way this was happening. You were convinced you were dreaming. Was Joel Miller actually asking if he could kiss you?

Slowly nodding, you said in a quiet whisper, “Yes.”

With that, Joel ducked his head and slanted his mouth across yours, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss. There was nothing gentle about this kiss; it was messy, urgent, almost yearning, like two lovers reuniting after years apart. You wrapped your arms around his neck and eagerly matched his movements, savouring the feeling that you had wanted, had craved, for so long. If this was the only time you would be able to experience this, you wanted to have it engraved into your mind for eternity.

Joel’s hands moved from your face, trailing down your shoulders, the curve of your waist, down to your hips and curling around your body to gently squeeze your ass. You gasped, and Joel didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue into your mouth, and you moaned at the taste of him—the aftertaste of the meat that had been in his sandwich, mixed with the faintest hint of whiskey and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He tasted delicious.

Joel pulled back slightly to look at you, your mouths connected by a single string of saliva. “Jump,” he said breathlessly, tapping the side of your leg.

Eagerly complying with his command, you jumped, easily being caught and held in Joel’s strong embrace. Without wasting a second, his lips were back on yours, kissing you deeply, like it was the last thing he’d ever do and he wanted to make it count. He carefully walked over to the mattress in the corner of the room, his hold on you not faltering, and without breaking the kiss, he slowly crouched down and lowered you onto the mattress. How he did that without falling over, you did not know, nor did you particularly care in that moment.

Unwrapping your arms from his neck, your hands trailed down to the buttons of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning the top one. Joel pulled away from the kiss, his hands working at the buttons and helping you remove his shirt, albeit a bit clumsily. When the grey fabric parted and slipped from his shoulders, it made way for the most mouthwatering sight you had ever seen. Joel looked like he was sculpted by Greek gods. Salt and pepper hairs littered the skin above his defined pecs, his stomach soft with age but simultaneously still toned, and good lord, the trail of hair that disappeared down his jeans made your imagination run wild.

“Your turn.” Joel grabbed the hem of your T-shirt, tugging it up and over your head, being met with absolute zero resistance from you. You wanted this. You had dreamed of this. You’d be damned if you backed out now.

As soon as your shirt was off, Joel skillfully reached around to unclasp your bra, letting the garment fall from your shoulders and carelessly tossing it somewhere to the side. Joel sat back and let his eyes roam all over your body, his chest heaving and his eyes darkening, black covering the beautiful brown hues you’d come to love. His tongue swept over his bottom lip, almost like he wanted to devour you.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered, before leaning back down to press his lips to your jaw, kissing down your neck, your collarbone, down your chest and going lower.

Your breath hitched in anticipation when he kissed the skin right above the waistband of your jeans. However, you didn’t stop him. You wanted him to do this. And you showed him just that by kicking off your shoes, allowing him easier access to pull your pants down.

With practiced ease, Joel swiftly unbuttoned your jeans, tugging both your jeans and underwear down your legs and tossing them to the side with your shirt and bra, leaving you completely naked and exposed to his gaze. He groaned at the sight before diving in face first, licking a long, delicious stripe from your core up to your clit.

The moan that escaped your chest was damn near pornographic. Throwing your head back against the flimsy mattress, you arched your back, pushing up against his face. Joel groaned, sending vibrations through your body, which only drew another moan from you.

After kissing the skin on your thigh a few times, nibbling at the tender flesh right next to where you craved him the most, Joel dove right back in, devouring you like a man offered a banquet after weeks of starvation. His tongue moved in and out of your core confidently, showcasing skills you never would have known he had. He groaned at the taste of you, which only added to the blinding hot pleasure that you felt.

Whining and bucking your hips up against his face, your fingers disappeared into his curly locks of hair, lightly tugging on the roots in the hopes of grounding yourself back to reality. Not even your wildest, wettest dream could have prepared you for how absolutely amazing Joel was making you feel. He definitely knew what he was doing, and he was doing it extremely well.

“Joel,” you moaned softly, gasps and breathy whines slipping past your lips. “Oh my god, Joel! Jesus… Christ!”

The noises you made were like music to Joel’s ears. They only spurred him on, and without even really thinking about it, his hand trailed up your thigh, brushing against your clit—which made you jolt—and he slipped his middle finger into your hole, replacing his tongue. Instead, he used his mouth to suck on your clit, pumping his finger in and out at a steady pace.

You were full-on whining at this point, quiet. Breathy ‘fucks’ and ‘Joels’ filled the air, accompanied by the lewd sounds of Joel pumping his fingers into you, his middle finger now joined by his pointer- and ring finger. The pleasure was toe curling, star seeing, absolutely fucking amazing. You could feel the coil in your stomach winding tighter with record speed. You were teetering right on the edge of pure ecstasy.

Joel could tell you were close. He upped his game, curling his fingers in a “come here” motion, flicking his tongue against your clit just right. He wanted you to finish all over his face. He needed it, in fact.

And he didn’t have to wait long.

With one last pump of his thick digits and one final suck on your clit, the knot in your stomach snapped. You came undone with a shout of his name, pulling at his hair and bucking your hips up against his face. Waves upon waves of pure, unadulterated bliss washed over you, and you were sure that if Joel wasn’t holding onto your thighs, you would descend into heaven.

Slowly coming down from your high, you lifted your head with great effort, peering down at Joel, and you gasped at the sight. Joel had lifted himself onto his knees, his face coated with your juices, sucking his fingers clean of your arousal. His pupils were blown with lust, and when you looked down, you finally noticed how rock hard he was.

“Joel…” you trailed off in a way that almost resembled begging, your voice shaky and breathless.

Joel knew what you meant. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he quickly made work of removing his jeans, somehow managing to kick his shoes off while he was at it. When his jeans were taken off, followed by his boxers, his cock sprung free, red at the tip and leaking with precum, and your mouth watered at the sight of it. You wanted to scramble up onto your knees and take him down your throat, show him the pleasure he showed you. However, as if reading your mind, Joel shook his head and moved to hover over you, his body warm and solid against yours.

“Next time, baby,” he promised you, not even needing to give any context as to what he was talking about, because you knew exactly what he meant.

Swallowing hard, you nodded. “I’m keeping you to that.”

A deep, throaty half-chuckle resonated from Joel’s chest. Lowering his head, he slanted his mouth across yours, all teeth and tongue. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and you moaned into his mouth as Joel gripped his cock and slid it through your folds a few times, the tip catching on your oversensitive bundle of nerves each time, making you moan even louder.

After repeating that action a couple of times, Joel lifted his head to peer down at you, his eyes—brown like the earth—searching yours for any indication that you didn’t want this. That he was crossing a line you didn’t want crossed. However, he was met with nothing but pure need, your legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him closer, silently pleading with him to make the next move.

And he did. Lining himself up with your entrance—and quickly giving himself a few light squeezes—he slowly pushed his cock in, groaning at the way your warm heat welcomed him, the way your walls hugged him just right, beckoning him closer and closer until he was fully sheathed inside of you. You felt like heaven.

Oh, but when he slowly pulled back and thrusted back in, the noises you made were anything but holy.

“Fuckin’... Christ,” Joel cursed through gritted teeth, keeping his pace slow and steady at first. A slow pull out, a gentle thrust back in. Another slow pull out, another gentle thrust back in. And repeat.

“Joel,” you whined, your eyelids fluttering when his tip nudged that one spot deep inside of you. “Joel, please.”

“Please what, darlin’?” he asked, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

He snapped his hips forward, making you gasp loudly. “Joel!” you nearly yelled, your hands coming up to grip at his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh.

“That what you want, baby?” he cooed almost condescendingly, lowering his head to nibble at the skin on your jaw. When you eagerly nodded, he merely chuckled. “Gotta use your words.”

“Please, Joel,” you began, sounding almost desperate as he continued with his slow, torturous pace. “Please. Need—ah!—need you to go faster.”

Lifting his head to look at you, he smirked. “Good girl.”

With that, he snapped his hips against yours, making your body jolt. And he didn’t stop. He set a brutal, unforgiving but delicious pace, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. Your boobs moved in time with his movements, and Joel couldn’t help but admire them, moving one of his hands down to grasp a handful of your right breast, thumbing your perked, sensitive nipple.

The noises you were making were downright sinful. Your grip on Joel’s broad, muscular shoulders tightened, desperately trying to keep yourself tethered to reality. You were already sensitive from your first orgasm, and you could feel your second one approaching faster than the first one did. And Joel could tell as well. It was like he knew your body better than you did.

“You gonna come f’me again, baby?” he asked breathlessly, his thrusts not faltering. He let go of your boob and instead snuck his hand between your legs, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing small, tight circles against it. He let out a noise that resembled something close to a gasp and close to a groan when he felt your walls squeeze him tightly, drawing his cock even deeper. “Yeah, you are.” Thrust. “Can feel how close you are.” Thrust. “Squeezin’ me so tight, eager for it.” Thrust. “Then let go for me, baby.” Another thrust. “Come all over my cock. Wanna feel it.”

With one last snap of his hips against yours, you came undone, your shouts of pleasure echoing off the walls. Your orgasm washed over you like a river, making your legs tremble and your vision blur from pure bliss, the kind you haven’t felt in a while. It all felt so good.

Joel followed closely behind you. With one final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his seed spilling deep inside of you. All types of profanities spewed past his lips as he came undone, his arm trembling and struggling to keep his weight up. He quickly brought his other arm back up to support his weight, not wanting to crush you, but he let his head drop down to hide in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of your deep, heavy breaths. You were slowly coming down from that euphoric high, your mind still foggy and trying to distinguish between fiction and reality. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve felt this good. Hell, you don’t know if you’ve ever felt this good. No amount of dreaming could ever compare to the real thing.

Coming back down from whatever ether his mind had disappeared to, Joel raised his head, his eyes sweeping over your face. He was still heaving like he had just ran a marathon, trying to catch his breath. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you in a way you couldn’t quite decipher.

Deciding to break the silence, you spoke up. “That was… wow.”

Joel allowed a small, barely noticeable smile to tug at the corner of his mouth, and you counted that as a win. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly.

And then it was silent again. You knew there was a lot to talk about. You knew that this made things between you and Joel difficult, made it different. But for now, you chose to bask in the afterglow of what happened, chose to enjoy it.

The difficult stuff could come later. For now, you would enjoy the moment.

Everything taglist: @francisofthespook @angelsanarchy @negansbestie (Comment/DM me to be added/removed!)

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posttexasstressdisorder · 11 hours ago

Text

Lucky to have just finished up with all the "dental work" that needed doin' in my long-neglected mouth. For free, as part of Medi-Cal/MediCare.

The last time I got a crown at a "regular dentist" in 2010, I had to pay $2,800 for it, and had to wait two months to get it. They just got done replacing all four crowns on the teeth I have left. For free. And each only took two weeks to design and make in-house. Every one of the crowns they made fits and looks better than the ones they replaced, some of which had metal cores that were only coated, one going all the way back 30 years.

Things have evidently progressed greatly in the last 15 years...the Xray thing is no longer a machine as big as the room, and cardboard thing you bite. Now it's a small hand-held thing that looks like a miniature cop radar gun, and you bite a plastic doo-dad, and the thing comes up on the computer screen almost instantly. Progress.

But here's the deal: Years of neglect and abject depression take their toll on how often you do all the things they tell you to do daily if you want to keep your teeth.

Sometimes you can look up through the greyness and realize it's been weeks since you even thought about it. You have to admit it's low on the priority list when you're close to ending it all.

So it's hard to get back into "proper tooth/mouth care" after a lifetime of sporadic "only go to the dentist when something's wrong" care.

I haven't missed an appointment since this round of work started, and they were able to complete it all within a year. They told me what they needed to do, made the plan, and did it.

But I still have a hard time being motivated to brush my teeth. After the years of depression, my monkey-mind still tells me it's not necessary and it's bullshit.

But, I'm makin' a stab at it. Starting to use Fluoride toothpaste was a big concession from me, I've avoided it until now. And the whole floss thing...I have never done it. Ever. If something got stuck, there's toothpicks. But I'm trying to make myself do it every night before bed now. It's not a "natural" thing to me. Baby steps, I guess.

its crazy how teeth problems can fucking kill you and not only are dental services not free they cost a ludicrous amount and require an entirely different type of insurance than the rest of ur body. aside from the eyes, of course, which need a third type of insurance. What are we even doing man

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hereforuconnwbb · 1 day ago

Text

The Study of Us - CHAPTER 7

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 6.4k

warning: language

hey gangggggg so sorry this took a bit of time to do but as ive said ive been busy with life js lifeing and don't have time to write but have gotten time over the last few days to finally write and i actually missed it smmmm😭 but abt this chapter, its nth fun js boring stuff and i feel like ive just left it a bit incomplete at the end bc im getting tired now and just wanted to post smtg before i sleep but um hopefully next chapter i can plan smth to make it less boring 🤞🏽 feel free to leave suggestions for future chapters !!! hopefully its alr but ty guys for being patient 🫶🏽 hope u guys enjoy.

‼️‼️this wasn’t edited

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Paige’s phone buzzed near her head, dragging her up from her sleep. She squinted at the screen with 1 eye open, groaning softly as she rolled onto her back and brought it closer. It was 8:13 am and there was a string of notis from Azzi that lit up the screen.

Azzi: mornin :)

Azzi: u up ?

Azzi: feel like grabbing coffee at the cafe before class ?

The corner of Paige’s mouth tugged up before she even finished reading the last message. She stared at the screen for a second, the sleep still heavy in her, but already she was sitting up.

She ran a hand over her face, still smiling, and messaged back.

Paige: yo bet js gimme 10, i will meet u there

She tossed the blankets off and pulled herself out of bed.

She threw on a white UConn basketball shirt along with one of her favorite grey Nike trackies, then paused by the mirror. Her hair went up into a ponytail. She ran a brush through it quickly, then again, just to be sure. She stared at her reflection for a second, smoothing the front of her shirt and tugging at the hem like it would help somehow. It wasn’t like this was a date or anything. Still, her cheeks felt warm.

She sighed, rolled her eyes at herself, and mumbled, “Get it together p” before finally turning to her duffel bag. She unzipped it just to double-check that her prac gear and shoes were packed neatly inside, tucked between her crocs and a rolled-up hoodie in case it got cold later throughout the day. Satisfied, she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed out the door.

By the time she stepped outside her phone buzzed.

Azzi: i js got here btw

Paige: bet bet im walking now. 5 min max

Azzi was waiting near the cafe entrance, leaned up against the wall just beside the door, her phone in one hand. After a few mins she looked up as Paige approached, and the small grin that spread across her face made Paige feel like she’d just won something.

She looked good. So so good. Her baby pink sweatshirt was soft and slightly oversized, sleeves pulled over her hands. Her jeans were loose, cuffed a little above her ankles. Her hair was pulled up in a high bun, wisps of curls falling around her face like they were supposed to be there.

“Hey.” Azzi said, smile easy, eyes soft.

“Hey.” Paige replied, not slowing until she was close enough to pull Azzi into a hug.

It was natural now. Azzi’s arms went around her like she’d been waiting for it. Paige’s went around her waist, chin brushing her shoulder for a moment. Neither of them said anything while they hugged.

When they pulled back, Azzi looked like she hadn’t stopped smiling. “I almost thought you’d still be asleep.”

“I almost was,” Paige admitted, her hand gently brushing against Azzi’s elbow as they walked inside, “but I wasn’t about to pass up coffee with you.”

They stepped into the cafe, the sounds of the machines and quiet conversation filling the air around them. Paige’s hand drifted lightly to Azzi’s back as they moved toward the line.

Near the back, half-tucked behind a tall plant and trying very hard to act casual, KK and Ice had been mid-conversation with their drinks when Ice nudged KK, eyes wide.

“Is that—”

“Bro. Yes,” KK whispered.

They both ducked lower behind their corner booth, trying to be stealthy as Ice started filming the exact moment Paige casually placed her hand on Azzi’s back. They didn’t even notice.

KK: yooooo look at p boogers, broski is WHIPPED

KK: they’re literally flirting in line BDHJIHJKDHHSA

Aubrey: huh wym ?? whos flirting in line ?

Aubrey: whats wrong w paige

Caroline: ???

Ice: video attachment

Ice: bro got her hand on azzi’s back like its nth 👀

Caroline: OOOOOOHHHHHHH SHITTTTT BDHAHBSAHHSHA

Aubrey: 😭😭😭 TS CRAZYYYYYY

Caroline: ugh theyre literally so gay literally definition of gay

KK: bro she’s got HEART EYES, i swearrrrr manee

Aubrey: p looks SOOOO soft for her

Caroline: i bet she’s already planning their wedding 😈

Meanwhile, Paige and Azzi were still deep in their own world. After they ordered, Paige immediately handed over her card before Azzk could even blink.

“You don’t have to pay,” Azzi said, almost pouting.

“Yea, but I want to,” Paige shrugged. “I’m not gonna let you pay for coffee when I invited you.”

“Wait, what do you mean? You didn’t invite me, I invited you.”

“Exactly. So I’m being polite.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t argue more. “You’re annoying.”

“You like it,” Paige said, a smirk playing on her lips.

Azzi tried not to smile at that, but it was hopeless.

They took a spot near the windows, sliding into one of the booths. Paige sat on the right, and Azzi automatically sat beside her instead of across. She curled slightly into Paige’s side without thinking. Paige’s arm slid around her shoulders like it was routine.

Azzi looked down at her cup, cheeks faintly pink. “You’re always so warm.”

“I run hot,” Paige said, taking a sip. “It’s a skill.”

Azzi bumped her shoulder gently. “A useful one.”

Their knees brushed under the table, and neither moved. Paige’s thumb idly traced a circle over Azzi’s shoulder through the fabric of her sweatshirt while they talked about random class stuff, how tired they were and other stuff about the upcoming tets.

Azzi leaned into her more as they sat, her voice softer now, “Thanks again. For last night.”

“For murdering your texts?” Paige said. “Anytime.”

Azzi laughed into her cup, eyes crinkling at the corners. “No, I mean just everything. It was a good day yesterday. Even when the two crashers came out of nowhere. ”

Paige looked at her for a second, her chest aching a little in that annoying, fluttery way it always did around her. She didn’t say anything. Just smiled, arm tightening slightly around Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi glanced up at her, eyes flicking to Paige’s mouth and back without meaning to.

Paige noticed. But she didn’t say a word.

From behind the plant, Ice and KK exchanged silent screams, mouthing oh my god at the same time.

Azzi leaned her head briefly into Paige’s shoulder again, soft and easy. Paige didn’t move. She just sat there, coffee in one hand, the girl she really liked tucked into her side, pretending her heart wasn’t currently punching its way through her ribs.

Eventually, their drinks were empty and their hands were just wrapped around lukewarm cups, neither of them making a move to stand.

“We should probably go,” Azzi mumbled, though she made no move to leave Paige’s side.

Paige sighed dramatically. “Yeah, I guess if we want to survive death-by-math.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, sitting up a little but still leaning into her. “You act like numbers are out to kill you.”

“They are,” Paige groaned, flopping her head back against the couch. “Every equation is a personal attack.”

Azzi smiled, brushing her hand lightly over Paige’s arm. “Good thing I’m here to protect you, then.”

Paige cracked one eye open, grinning. “My math bodyguard ?”

“Exactly,” Azzi said, nudging her playfully. “Armed with equations and the will to drag your dramatic ass through linear algebra.”

They stood, gathering their bags. Azzi pulled on her sleeve, tugging it back over her hand as they stepped into the morning light. The walk to class wasn’t far, just across campus, but they stayed close, brushing shoulders every so often as they moved.

“I’m glad we did this,” Azzi said quietly, gaze down at the sidewalk.

Paige glanced over at her, a lazy, warm smile tugging at her lips. “Me too.”

They reached the building, pushing through the heavy door as students flooded in around them. Paige held it open for Azzi, earning a small smirk from her.

“Such a gentlewoman” Azzi teased, bumping her shoulder against Paige’s as she walked in

“Don’t get used to it,” Paige shot back, but she was still smiling.

Inside the room, the class was already half-full, the usual scattered clusters of students hunched over desks or chatting. Azzi made her way toward her usual spot that was mid-left row, beside Caroline while Paige headed for the back right corner next to Aubrey.

As soon as Paige dropped her bag beside her seat, Aubrey turned to her, raising both eyebrows.

“So,” she said slowly, “anything you wanna share ?”

Paige blinked. “Huh ?”

“You and Azzi. Cafe. This morning.”

Paige froze, halfway through pulling out her laptop. “Wait, how do you even know that ?”

Aubrey grinned, waving her phone. “kk and ice.”

Paige’s face went hot. “You’re kidding.”

“Buddy,” Aubrey said, spinning the screen toward her. “do I look like I’m kidding ?”

The video was low-angle and grainy but unmistakably them with her hand resting on Azzi’s back, Azzi leaning into her. Her stomach twisted in that mix of affection and horror. “Oh my gosh.”

“We basically declared you guys the campus gay power couple,” Aubrey added.

Across the room, Caroline was saying almost the exact same thing.

“You and Paige, huh ?” she said, nudging Azzi as she pulled out a pen.

Azzi blinked. “What ?”

Caroline lifted her phone, holding it up with a smug look. “kk and ice were literally hiding behind a plant. They sent me and Aubrey a video. You two looked pre cozy.”

Azzi stared at her. “Wait how did they even—”

“Spying,” Caroline said, deadpan. “They’ve got eyes everywhere.”

Azzi buried her face in her hands for a second. “Geeeeez bruh.”

“Don’t worry,” Caroline said sweetly. “It was cute. P got that golden retriever energy and you got that soft princess energy.”

Azzi groaned louder.

That’s when the door creaked open again, and Jace strutted in. He dropped into the seat directly in front of Azzi without even looking back.

“So,” he started loudly, twisting slightly in his seat, “you just gonna block me ? Like that ?”

Azzi’s whole body tensed.

“I mean, damn Azzi,” Jace went on, turning fully now. “After everything like the sessions I kept you entertained while you were tutoring me. Cold, man. Cold.”

Caroline immediately leaned forward. “What in the absolute bullshit, maybe take the hint and shut up.”

He ignored her and turned back around. “And that last message ? To what ? Stop texting you, was it ? What even was that ?”

Azzi stared at the back of his head, jaw tight. “It wasnt—”

She stopped herself. She wasn’t about to explain that it wasn’t even her who sent the message. Or that she had no regrets about allowing Paige to block him.

He kept going. “I’m just saying, you don’t gotta be so rude. You were acting all sweet before like you actually wanted to help me.”

Azzi turned her head toward the window, trying to tune him out. Caroline pulled out her phone.

A second later, Paige’s phone lit up.

Caroline: p switch seats w me pls. jace the dumbass is not letting up and azzi looks like she wants to punch him.

Without hesitation, Paige stood, grabbing her stuff. She walked down the aisle, eyes locked on Caroline, who was already halfway up. They wordlessly passed each other, Caroline giving Paige a tight nod and smirk before sliding into the back next to Aubrey.

Paige dropped into the seat beside Azzi and leaned back casually, draping an arm over the back of Azzi’s chair. Then she slid her hand up to her shoulder and tugged her closer gently.

Azzi blinked, startled for a second but she didn’t resist. She let herself lean in and shifted her chair a little closer to Paige.

Paige stared straight ahead as she spoke, flat and sharp.

“Hey Jace ?”

He turned, expression smug.

Paige gave him a blank look. “Shut the fuck up.”

His smirk faded. “Bruh what ?”

“You heard me,” Paige said, her arm still around Azzi. “You’re so fucken loud, annoying, and nobody wants to hear your whiny ass complain about not getting free tutoring after being a creep.”

Jace scoffed. “Creep ? I—”

“Yea buddy,” Paige snapped, leaning forward a little. “I read your messages. All of them. I was the one who was messaging you and blocked you. Lucky I didn’t send worse.”

Jace looked like he might argue but one glance at Paige’s sharp expression and he backed off with a mutter, turning in his seat.

Silence settled around them. Caroline and Aubrey shared a look from the back.

Paige leaned back, hand still lightly resting on Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi’s lips parted like she wanted to say something, but then she just closed them again and leaned into Paige’s side more.

“Thank you,” she said softly instead.

Paige’s thumb brushed her shoulder gently. “Anytime.”

They stayed like that, quietly tucked into each other, as Caroline turned around slightly and mouthed holy shit at Aubrey while she was filming from her seat, whispering into her phone camera.

—------------------------------------

The class continued on as if nothing had happened, but the air between Paige and Azzi felt different now. Paige’s arm stayed draped over Azzi’s shoulder, casual but firm, as she scribbled notes the professor was going through with her other hand. Every now and then, she would give Azzi a little squeeze or rub her thumb against her shoulder, and Azzi would shift slightly, the smallest of shivers running through her. Paige noticed, and though she kept her attention on the professor, her grin was quiet and knowing.

Meanwhile, Aubrey and Caroline, seated a few rows behind them, exchanged a knowing look, their eyes flicking between Paige and Azzi. Caroline leaned in, her voice low, though the grin on her face made it hard to keep the tone entirely serious.

“Ok, so that happened.” Caroline whispered, glancing at Azzi and Paige, whose fingers were still subtly brushing along Azzi’s arm. “They were basically kissing each other with their eyes when Jace started talking. I thought they were gonna combust right there.”

Aubrey, equally amused, whispered back, “I don’t know, but they definitely look a little cozy.” Her eyes sparkled as she watched the subtle way Paige’s hand moved down Azzi’s arm, still casually slung over her shoulder. “And don’t think I forgot about that photo I took last night,” she added, smirking.

Caroline blinked. “Wait, what photo ?”

“You know the one from last night.” Aubrey leaned in, her voice dropping. “The one where they were both asleep, tangled up on the couch at Azzi’s place ? Azzi practically had her face buried in Paige’s neck. They were wrapped in a blanket, holding each other like it was nothing.”

Caroline tried to stifle a laugh, eyes wide. “Oh my God. How did I forget about that ? Is that really how they’re gonna do this ? Just silently falling in love by embracing together?”

Aubrey grinned. “And we have it on camera. Don’t think it won’t get shown to the others later”

Caroline shook her head, hiding her smile behind her hand. “This is gonna be absolute chaos.”

Meanwhile, Paige’s attention was split between the lecture, which she was half-listening to, and Azzi. Her arm, still around Azzi’s shoulder, had gradually started to move slowly, subtly. It was a gentle massage, her fingers pressing into Azzi’s skin, a rhythmic movement that didn’t go unnoticed. Azzi, who had been trying to concentrate on the lecture, couldn’t help but flinch with every little movement Paige made. It wasn’t rough, it was just affectionate in a way that made her feel warmer than she expected.

Every time Paige’s fingers brushed against her skin, she felt her heart skip just a little bit faster. And yet, every time Azzi glanced over at Paige, she couldn’t help but look away quickly, biting back the smile that wanted to spread across her face. She could feel the tension between them shifting, but she couldn’t exactly name it except that it was undeniably there.

From the row in front of them, Jace couldn’t take his eyes off them. He kept turning his head back, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. Paige caught him doing it once and shot him a hard look, her arm still draped over Azzi’s shoulder as if the gesture was as natural as breathing.

Jace smirked, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated stretch, before sneering at them. “What, are you two, like, attached now ?” His voice was loud enough for the people around them to hear. “Basically on top of each other, whispering sweet nothings in class ? What’s next, holding hands in the hallways ? Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Azzi stiffened, but Paige’s grip on her shoulder tightened just slightly, a silent reassurance that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Paige’s voice was low. “If you say one more word Jace, I swear I’m going to throw my chair at you.” She let the threat hang in the air for a moment before adding, “And don’t even think about looking back at us again, you dumbass.”

Jace’s smirk faltered, but he quickly regained his cocky attitude. “What’s your problem ? Genuinely asking.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, I think you know what my problem is bud. You’re an asshole. And you’re somehow under the delusion that we give a fuck about what you think.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but the look Paige shot his way made him think twice. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, finally turning around and focusing on the professor.

Paige rolled her eyes, muttering to herself as she leaned into Azzi just a little more. Her fingers traced over the back of Azzi’s neck now, massaging the soft skin just behind her ear. The small, deliberate movements of her hand were enough to make Azzi shiver again, her breath catching slightly as she adjusted in her seat.

“I swear,” Paige muttered. “This guy has no concept of personal space or boundaries.”

Azzi couldn’t help it. She finally let herself laugh, a soft, almost nervous sound, her face still a little flushed. “You’re too much, Paige.”

Paige’s smile softened as she shifted her arm to rub more firmly against Azzi’s shoulder. “I know, but I’m pre sure you like it.”

Azzi, her face a mix of bashful and amused, ducked her head a little, resisting the urge to smile wider. She could feel the heat in her chest spreading, especially with Paige so close, her hand still making slow, deliberate circles on her skin.

Aubrey, still trying to keep it together from behind, whispered loud enough for Caroline to hear. “Honestly, I think Paige is trying to kill Jace with some new strategy. I aint even know what it is.”

Caroline snickered. “Jace needs to watch out. Paige’s charm is lethal.”

Meanwhile, Jace was still occasionally glancing back, his eyes narrowing further each time he saw Paige and Azzi so close, the arm that was still resting around Azzi’s shoulder almost possessively. Finally, after a few more moments of frustration, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He spun around in his chair once again, catching Paige’s eye.

“Ok seriously, stop staring at me like that. You’re making me uncomfortable,” he muttered, as though the idea of being intimidated by Paige was beneath him.

Paige raised an eyebrow, not a hint of hesitation in her voice. “You know what, Jace? You should be uncomfortable. You’re the last person I want to deal with right now.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at Paige’s words, the way she so easily stood up for herself. Her stomach flipped, and her heart raced, but she kept her face neutral, forcing herself to stay focused on the notes in front of her. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself from stealing a glance at Paige’s confident expression.

—------------------------------------

The final 10 minutes of class went by, but Paige and Azzi barely noticed. Azzi had grown more comfortable with the contact, leaning into it slightly, and while her cheeks still burned every now and then from the closeness, she no longer shied away. If anything, she found herself anticipating the soft press of Paige’s fingertips, the calm, steady rhythm that somehow helped her concentrate now better than anything else.

Behind them, Aubrey leaned into Caroline again, her voice now urgent with energy. “Okok, we have to go. Like, now.”

Caroline’s eyes sparkled. “We need to find KK and Ice immediately.”

Neither of them didn’t even wait for Paige or Azzi. Aubrey grabbed her bag, nearly knocking her notebook off the desk in the process. “Let’s move. I’ve got the video saved.”

Caroline was already halfway to the door. “Let’s just say this might be better than the couch photo.”

The 2 of them dashed out of the room, barely stifling their laughter as they disappeared into the hallway, leaving the classroom noticeably quieter.

Paige tilted her head slightly, brow raised in mild suspicion. “What the hell was that about?”

Azzi just smiled, eyes still on her notes. “I don’t even want to know. You’d probably chase them down.”

Paige grinned. “Yea probs.”

They didn’t get up right away. The lecture was over, but they remained in their seats, the sound of shuffling notebooks and murmuring classmates fading until the room had emptied. Paige slowly retracted her arm, giving Azzi space as she leaned forward on the desk, stretching her back. Her hand absently rubbed at her temple. “Ok. So like. Linear algebra still feels like rocket science.”

Azzi’s lips quirked. “That’s because you’re trying to think of it like math instead of movement.”

Paige blinked at her. “What ?”

Azzi shifted in her seat, turning toward her slightly, eyes thoughtful. “Ok, so hear me out.” She tapped her pen on Paige’s notebook. “Vectors, right ? Think of them as passing lanes on the court. You’re here” she drew a little dot labeled P “and your teammate’s over here” another dot labeled T. “The ball has to move in a straight line from you to them. That’s a vector.”

Paige leaned closer, her brow furrowing with curiosity. “Ok yea… that actually kind of makes sense.”

Azzi smiled. “And linear transformations are just… changes in the way the court behaves. Imagine the floor gets tilted. The path between you and your teammate changes. Maybe it’s easier to pass left, harder to go right. That’s how matrix multiplication works—it changes all the passing lanes.”

Paige stared at her for a moment, visibly stunned. “Wait. That’s… actually kinda genius.”

Azzi shrugged, cheeks pinking slightly under the praise. “It’s just how I think about it. It makes it easier to visualise. I will get into detail with different areas when we have more sessions.”

Paige was still watching her, something soft and warm brewing behind her eyes. “That’s why you’re such a good tutor,” she said, voice quiet. “You don’t just explain the math. You connect it to stuff people actually care about.”

Azzi looked down at her lap, trying not to smile too widely. “Well… I care if you pass.”

That sentence landed heavier than Azzi expected, and the silence that followed was different now full, charged, delicate. Paige opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. Her fingers twitched slightly against her book.

Before either of them could say more, a voice from the front of the room cut through the air.

“Miss Bueckers ?”

They both looked up. Their professor was standing at the front of the room, his hands loosely clasped over a stack of folders.

“Yes, sir ?” Paige straightened up quickly.

“I just wanted to make sure you saw my email last night,” he said, stepping a little closer, his voice dropping to a more private tone. “The one about eligibility. I know Coach is watching those grades pretty closely.”

Paige gave a quick nod. “Yea, I saw it. I’m on it.”

The professor glanced between the 2 of them and at the open notebooks, the way Paige had shifted closer, the way Azzi hadn’t stopped watching her even while he spoke. His smile warmed.

“Good,” he said, then paused just long enough for them to notice. “And whatever this is ?” He motioned vaguely to the 2 of them, his tone light but full of meaning. “It seems to be working.”

Paige blinked. Azzi turned red.

“Oh,” Paige said, her voice suddenly higher. “Um uh, yea, no, were just—she’s tutoring me. It’s tutoring.”

Azzi nodded quickly. “Mhm, strictly academic.”

The professor gave a slow nod, lips twitching. “Of course. Welp, keep up the… good academic collaboration.”

And with that, he walked out.

The door clicked shut behind him.

They both sat frozen for a beat, the air thick with embarrassment and something warmer.

Paige let out a breath, half a laugh, half a groan. “Did he just…”

Azzi buried her face in her hands. “Oh my god. He totally thinks we’re—”

“Dating,” Paige finished for her, grinning as she leaned back in her seat, one leg bouncing. “He definitely thinks we’re dating.”

Azzi peeked out from behind her hands. “That’s embarrassing.”

Paige laughed, reaching over to nudge her knee gently with her own. “Or… flattering.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, caught between flustered and intrigued. “Flattering?”

“I mean,” Paige shrugged, smiling lazyly. “You could do worse.”

Azzi stared at her, heart pounding. “Are you flirting with me ?”

“Hmmmmm I don’t know,” Paige said, still smiling, but there was something gentler in her voice now. “Am I?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She just looked at her, really looked at the way Paige’s fingers had started tapping lightly against the edge of the desk again, the way her eyes held just a little more softness than mischief now.

“No comment,” Azzi murmured, cheeks pink, her voice barely above a whispwr.

She shifted in her seat, feeling the warmth of the moment linger between them, like the soft afterglow of a nearly confessed truth. The quiet in the room seemed to stretch around them, and she took a deep breath, realising that they had both lingered long enough to notice the space that had shifted in the air between them. A gentle push of Paige’s knee against hers pulled her back from the thoughts swirling in her mind.

“Alright,” Paige finally sighed, her voice taking on a more normal tone as she pushed herself upright, stretching her arms above her head with a tired groan. “Let’s go. We’re not getting anything done here anymore.”

Azzi nodded, her fingers brushing across the open notebook in front of her one last time. She caught Paige’s glance as she reached for her bag, both of them hesitating for just a moment too long before standing up together. They moved in sync as they made their way toward the door, a quiet rhythm in their footsteps as they passed through the emptying classroom.

As they stepped into the hallway, the low hum of the campus still alive in the background, Azzi glanced at Paige, her voice soft. “So, when’s your next game?”

Paige tilted her head slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “This time next week,” she said, looking a little distant for a moment. “But I’m leaving Friday a few hours after the test. It’s an away game.” She met Azzi’s eyes then, her gaze direct but soft.

Azzi nodded slowly, her fingers tapping lightly against the strap of her bag. “Well, you’ll need to focus on that test then. You sure you’re ready?”

Paige grinned. “Not even a little. But I’ve got you, right ?”

Azzi smiled back, feeling a flutter in her chest. She was already reaching for the next logical step, the next way to help. “What if we studied every day till the test? I’ll help you, make sure you pass this thing. It’s not just a math test, right? It’s everything leading up to it. You’ll need all the help you can get.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, impressed and touched by Azzi’s determination. “You really want to do that ? Every day ?”

Azzi’s cheeks went pink slightly, but she didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Well if you want to… But I’m serious. You can’t afford to fail this one. I’ll be here for you. I won’t let you miss anything.”

Paige couldn’t help but feel a soft warmth fill her chest at the thought. Her voice was quieter now, her words more sincere. “I appreciate that. I’ll need it, honestly. With everything going on, I don’t have much headspace for this test. But you ? You seem to make it easier.”

Azzi gave her a quick smile, trying to hide the feeling of her heart racing. “Good. Then it’s a plan. We’ll study every day till Friday.”

Before Paige could say anything more, a familiar voice interrupted, and both of them turned to find Aubrey, Caroline, KK, and Ice walking toward them, their chatter growing louder as they approached.

Aubrey practically skipped up to them, her grin wide. “There you two are. We were looking everywhere for you !”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between Azzi and Paige, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “What were you two doing in there? You’ve been in that room for quite some time.”

Azzi and Paige exchanged a quick look, both of them blushing, but neither said anything, the unspoken truth still hovering in the air between them.

Aubrey didn’t seem to care about their hesitation. “We got something for you.” She pulled her phone from her pocket with a grin that was way too mischievous. “Remember last night?”

Paige froze, her breath catching in her throat. “What… what are you talking about?”

Aubrey’s grin grew wider. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Caroline leaned in, her voice lower now, as if making sure no one else could overhear. “We’ve got a picture.”

Azzi’s eyes widened slightly as her gaze flickered nervously between Paige and the phone Aubrey was holding up. “A picture?”

“Yeah,” Aubrey said, her grin turning into something teasing. “A cute one.”

She tapped through her screen, and suddenly, a photo appeared on the screen—one of Paige and Azzi, curled up together asleep on the couch from last night.

Azzi’s breath hitched, and she couldn’t stop herself from looking at the photo, her stomach twisting. The image was so intimate, so casual in a way that made her feel exposed. She looked over at Paige, her heart hammering. Paige, too, was staring at the photo, her face a mixture of surprise and something else—something soft and a little bit embarrassed.

“Why did you even—” Paige started, her voice a little higher than usual.

Aubrey raised an eyebrow. “You think we weren’t watching you two? Come on, it was cute. Just look at how you were both out like lights. We had to capture it. It was a must.”

Azzi cleared her throat, her cheeks burning. “This is definitely not what it looks like.”

Carolinr gave her a look. “Oh, it looks exactly like what it is.”

KK and Ice were both quiet for once, exchanging glances but not saying anything. The 4 of them knew what the picture meant and what it implied. But Azzi and Paige were still caught in their own tangled feelings, none of them willing to admit the truth out loud yet.

Aubrey was the one to break the silence, her voice light but teasing. “So, when do you two want to make this official ? Or should we keep this little secret to ourselves?”

Paige shot her a glare, her smile still present but strained. “Oh my days shut up, Aubrey.”

Azzi ducked her head, her heart beating faster. “We—uh… we’re just—”

Caroline waved her off. “No need to explain. We know. But seriously. You two are adorable.”

There was a long beat of silence before Azzi finally raised her eyes to meet Paige’s. The weight of the conversation, of the feelings neither of them were ready to name, hung in the space between them.

The moment passed quickly, though, as Paige gave a shrug and turned to the group. “Alright, alright. Enough with the teasing. We’ve got stuff to do.”

Azzi nodded, feeling a strange sense of finality to the conversation. Her heart thumped in her chest as they began walking toward the stairs. But as they moved in tandem, closer now than they’d ever been, Azzi couldn’t help but wonder if something would shift.

—------------------------------------

As the teasing settled into warm laughter and light conversation, the group slowly began to drift apart, lulled by the gentle pull of their schedules.

“I swear, if Coach keeps pausing every five seconds to lecture, I might actually fall asleep with my eyes open,” Caroline groaned, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“He’s definitely gonna do it,” KK said with a sigh. “Gramps loves a lil dramatic pause.”

Ice snorted. “Y’all better prepare yourself now. You know he’s sending us straight to weights after like emotional damage won’t be enough.”

Aubrey threw an arm around Paige’s shoulders. “Come on, film starts in thirty. Let’s roll.”

But Paige didn’t move. “I’ll catch up in a sec,” she said casually, nudging Aubrey with her elbow. “Need to ask Azzi something real quick.”

Aubrey gave her a long, drawn-out “Oooooohhh,” before relenting. “Don’t be late before gramps gets mad lover girl.”

“Bye Aubrey,” Paige deadpanned, and Aubrey finally peeled away, the rest of the group filing down the hall.

Once they were gone and the hallway had quieted to a soft murmur, Paige turned to Azzi, her expression gentler now, stripped of the pressure of onlookers.

“So…” Paige began, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I was thinking. About tonight.”

Azzi blinked. “Tonight?”

“For studying,” Paige clarified quickly, though her voice carried a quiet edge of something more. “You said every day, remember? Might as well start tonight.”

Azzi nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Right, yeah. That makes sense. Want to meet at the library ?”

Paige gave a crooked smile and shook her head. “Actually, I was thinking… my place. No one there, fewer distractions. We’ll probably get more done.”

Azzi hesitated. “You sure ?”

“Yea.” Paige’s voice was certain, but her gaze flicked away for a second before returning to meet Azzi’s. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll text you the deets.”

Azzi took a breath, then nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”

Paige’s smile softened, the edges of her eyes crinkling just slightly. “Cool. I’ll, uh… try to clean up a little after I finish up my schedule for the day after film and weights.”

Azzi laughed, a quiet sound that seemed to catch even her off guard. “No need. I’m not judging you.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her grin turning a bit smug. “You say that now. Just wait until you see the mountain of laundry on my desk.”

Azzi smiled, the tension between them easing just a bit. There was still something noticeable there but for now, it settled into something easier.

“I’ll bring some snacks,” Azzi offered. “And flashcards. I have a few from the last class.”

Paige gave her a grateful look. “You’re really out here being my academic guardian angel, huh ?”

Azzi rolled her eyes with a smile. “You’re lucky I like helping people.”

Paige didn’t respond to that and just watched her for a moment too long before finally stepping back. “Alright. I should go before everyone starts texting me passive-aggressively from film and Geno gets pissed at me.”

Azzi nodded, feeling the faint urge to stall, to say something more. But instead, she let the moment settle, let it be quiet and soft and enough.

“See you tonight, Az” Paige said, turning to go.

Azzi watched her walk down the hall, tall and sure in that way she had always seemed to be. But as she glanced back once before turning the corner, there was something else in her face. Something that told Azzi she wasn’t as composed as she seemed.

And then she was gone.

Azzi stood there for a beat longer, then finally turned toward the opposite direction, heading back toward her own dorm.

Her chest still carried the echo of that photo. Of Paige’s sleepy weight against her body. Of the quiet flutter when Paige said you make it easier.

She exhaled slowly.

Tonight. Paiges place.

—------------------------------------

Azzi unlocked the door to her dorm with a soft click, stepping inside and pulling off her shoes as she glanced down the narrow hallway toward the small cluster of packages by her desk. Her heart gave a tiny, unexplainable skip when she saw one of the boxes.

“Oh,” she murmured, already moving toward it.

She knelt and peeled it open carefully, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as soon as the pastel pink casing appeared through the packing paper. The Polaroid camera.

She pulled it out reverently, holding it in both hands like something precious. The plastic was smooth, the color even prettier in person than it looked online and was also matching the colour of her sweatshirt. Lightweight, but solid in her hands. She instinctively brought it up to eye level, pretending to snap a shot, already imagining how the photos would look printed and warm and instant.

Azzi sat back on her heels and smiled to herself, imagining the little stack of blank film waiting to be filled. Her mind wandered—first to the small plant on her windowsill, then maybe the way the afternoon light hit the library steps, photos of her and her friends going for an outing. A whole mental list was already forming—shots she could take, quiet memories she could freeze in time.

And then, before she could help it, another thought crept in.

Paige.

She imagined Paige sitting at her desk tonight, brow furrowed, pencil tapping against her notebook while she squinted at some econ problem. Maybe her wearing a hoodie that would probably be half off one shoulder, hair up in a messy bun or maybe still damp from a post-prac shower. Azzi imagined the soft lighting of the desk lamp hitting her face, Paige muttering to herself, frustrated but trying. Still trying.

It would be the perfect moment for a picture.

Not posed, not planned, just real.

Azzi’s cheeks warmed up instantly.

“Nope,” she muttered under her breath, standing up a little too fast. She placed the camera gently on the desk and turned away like that would somehow banish the idea.

But it didn’t.

The image stuck. Paige, caught mid-thought. Paige, rolling her eyes at some dumb joke. Paige, looking up at her after finally getting an answer right, proud and bright.

Azzi covered her face with her hands, half laughing, half horrified at herself.

“What is wrong with me,” she mumbled.

She peeked through her fingers at the camera, still sitting untouched on the edge of her desk. After a long beat, she reached out, ran a thumb over the smooth shutter button, and bit her lip.

Maybe she would bring it tonight to Paige's dorm.

Just in case.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #dallas wings #wnba basketball #wnba #ncaa wbb #wbb

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papayainsectorone · 1 day ago

Text

teach me on the other side of the world

════════════════════════

summary: oscar is off racing somewhere in the world, but finds himself in the same situtation of quirming at your words again

content: 18+! smut, nsfw FaceTime sex, masturbation, praise kink, mutual pining, suggestive texting, desperate!Oscar, post-race tension, playful domination, light dom/sub dynamics, mild teasing, dirty talk, slow burn payoff

word count: 2,7 k

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

a thought: this is my first time trying a little smau situation and i quite liked it, also this part is not as long as the others but that man needs a break (somehow) lol

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7

════════════════════════

You’ve kept in touch since he left not just polite check-ins, but real conversation. Long threads of messages, soft voice notes exchanged when the timing aligned, and the occasional late-night call that left you both smiling into your pillows.

When he was away again for the next races, you watched him on TV. Eyes glued to the screen, heart stuttering when they cut to him adjusting his gloves, eyes dark and focused beneath his visor. You could almost feel the energy he carried, the calm precision with that edge of something more.

Later that evening, just after the podium ceremony, you send another message

His typing bubble appears. Then disappears. Then again. Then gone.

You stare at the screen, waiting, a little amused, a little smug. But instead of a reply, your phone lights up with an incoming FaceTime call.

You answer without hesitation, already grinning and there he is. Flushed cheeks, tousled hair, breath just slightly uneven, and that wrecked sort of look in his eyes like you’ve completely undone him from half a world away.

You giggle. “What are you doing?”

Oscar groans softly, dragging a hand through his hair. “What are you doing to me.”

Your smile grows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise a brow at the way he’s shifting like he can’t get comfortable, like every part of him is on edge. “You’re in the driver’s room? Not at the hotel already… what are you doing?” you ask softly, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it.

Oscar swipes a hand through his hair, cheeks a full, telltale pink now. “Trying not to lose my fucking mind.”

You grin. “Why’s that?”

He glares at you, but there’s no heat in it. Just desperation. “You know why. Jesus.”

You lean back slightly, resting your chin in your palm as you watch him squirm. “Oh, I know. Maybe tell me anyway.”

“Fuck,” he groans again, dragging the word out. “You’re unreal. I’m—God, I’ve got engineers like twenty meters away and I’m sitting here trying to act normal while you’re saying the filthiest shit to me through a phone.”

You smile sweetly. “I haven’t even started, baby.”

He shudders, hand flexing in his lap. “Don’t. I’m serious.”

“You don’t sound very serious.”

“I can’t stand up right now,” he mutters like it’s a confession, gaze flicking down, then back up at you. “And it’s your fault.”

You pout dramatically. “Aww. Poor baby.”

“Stop it.” His voice cracks, and he covers his face for a second.

“You love it.”

He pulls his hand down, eyes hot now. “Yeah. I fucking do.”

There's a pause—quiet but loaded—then he shifts again, thighs visibly tense, and exhales sharply. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You tilt your head, voice dropping just a bit more. “Only if you let me.”

He groans, and it’s low, throaty, utterly unguarded. “Fuck. Stop talking. Please.”

You just smile.

You let the silence linger for a beat, watching the way his breath hitches through the screen, the faint rustle of fabric as he shifts in his seat.

Then, slowly, deliberately, you say, “You know what I was thinking about while you were racing today?”

He looks like he might combust. “Don’t—”

You cut him off, voice soft and syrupy. “The way your mouth felt on me. How focused you were. Like you were trying to win me, not a race.”

His hand grips the edge of the seat now, knuckles white. “Baby—”

“And how when you finished, you looked so proud,” you murmur, letting each word drip. “Like you just set a personal best.”

Oscar closes his eyes, tilts his head back against the wall with a sharp exhale. “Holy fuck.”

“Bet you’d break your own record if you were here right now.”

His eyes snap open again, dazed and dark. “You have got to stop.”

“You say that,” you hum, “but your hand hasn’t moved from your lap once.”

He doesn’t answer just groans again, deeper now, and drags his hand over his face like he’s trying to scrub away the urge. When he lowers it again, his eyes are glassy. “I’m gonna lose my job.”

You laugh softly. “Only if they catch you.”

He leans in closer, jaw clenched. “You’d be the death of me. You know that?”

You smile, slow and dangerous. “Then die a happy man.”

He lets out a breathless, strangled sound, and you can practically feel the tension buzzing through the screen. “I need—fuck. I need you.”

That stirs something low in your belly, but you keep your voice light. “Mm. I know.”

Oscar blinks at you, totally wrecked. “This is so unfair.”

You soften your voice, just slightly, still playful but laced with something darker. “Then close your eyes, baby.”

He swallows hard, lips parted, gaze flicking between your face and the faint outline of his own reflection on the screen. “What?”

“Close them,” you repeat gently. “And pretend it’s me.”

His breath catches, but he obeys, lashes fluttering down, jaw tense.

“Think about my hands on you. The way I sounded when you made me fall apart last time,” you say, slow and deliberate, letting the memory stretch between you.

He exhales shakily, knuckles flexing. You keep going, voice soft but firm.

“Undo your pants, nice and slow. Just enough to feel it. Imagine it's my fingers instead of yours.”

A groan slips from him, quiet and desperate.

You hum, smile curling. “Good. Now don’t move yet. Just let your hand sit there. Feel how hard you are. For me.”

His hips twitch, and he presses his lips together in a failed attempt to stay quiet.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you murmur. “Tell me how it feels.”

His voice is barely more than a breath. “So—fuck, it’s—”

You smile, heart racing, entirely in control now. “That’s it. Just like that.”

His hand shifts, just slightly, and you catch the hitch in his breath. “You didn’t tell me I could move,” he whispers, teasing but barely holding it together.

“Oh, you want permission now?” You tilt your head, savoring this.

He grins, flushed and flustered, but you can see it how badly he wants you. How worked up he already is from just your voice, your words.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs.

“I think I do,” you say, just above a whisper. “You’re hard and aching and trying to be good, just like I like.”

He curses again, softly, biting his lip.

You shift a little on your end, just enough to let the hem of your sleep shirt ride up. You’ve been aching, too—have been since the second you saw his flushed face light up your screen.

He doesn't notice at first. Not until your breath hitches.

His eyes flick up, sharper now. “Wait—are you…”

You smile, slow and wicked. “What do you think, baby?”

He swears under his breath, eyes darting down as if he could see through the phone.

“I can hear you,” he murmurs, voice almost reverent. “Those little sounds.”

You hum softly, fingertips ghosting between your thighs, just enough to make yourself gasp. “All for you.”

His mouth drops open slightly, breathing ragged again. “Fuck. Don’t stop.”

You don’t plan to.

“I’m touching myself,” you whisper, letting the words wrap around him like silk. “Thinking about how you sounded when you begged last time. How your mouth felt when you made me come.”

Oscar’s jaw clenches like he’s in pain, his hand twitching again, still resting in his lap.

“Still gonna be a good boy for me?” you ask sweetly, just as you press a little harder against yourself.

He nods, fast and breathless, lips parted. “Y-Yeah. I’m trying.”

You moan, soft and needy, and that’s all it takes—he jolts, like the sound shot straight through him.

“Jesus Christ,” he chokes. “That noise—fuck, that’s not fair.”

“I told you,” you murmur, circling slow. “You’re not the only one suffering.”

He groans again, that same low, desperate sound from earlier. “You’re gonna break me.”

“Then break, baby,” you whisper. “I’m right there with you.”

“Okay,” you murmur. “Now you can move.”

The tiniest movement of his hand and he shudders, face tipping up toward the ceiling. “Fuck—”

“Slow, baby,” you remind him, gentle but commanding. “You’ve got to earn it.”

“Earn it?” he pants, glancing back at you through heavy lashes.

“Mhm. Think about my mouth. The way I’d look up at you, tongue out, eyes begging. You’d be so good for me, wouldn’t you?”

He nods without thinking, then chokes out, “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

“Good boy,” you purr, and his hips twitch again at the praise.

You watch him fall apart in slow motion, breath ragged, pleasure written all over him.

“Just like that,” you whisper. “That’s it. Let me see how pretty you are when you come.”

His breath catches—shaky, shallow—and you know he’s close.

You see it in the way his eyes lose focus, how his hand trembles slightly just out of frame. His breath comes in short, desperate gasps, and then—

“Oscar,” you murmur, just as your own voice cracks around a moan.

He lets out a low, broken sound, hips stuttering once, twice, before he falls apart with a groan so raw and wrecked it makes your stomach flutter. His body jerks forward slightly, face twisting in pleasure as he spills over his hand and stomach, chest heaving, pupils blown wide.

And it’s that, the way his voice fractures, the sharp, helpless grunt that punches from his chest as he gives in, that does it.

Your breath catches on a whimper, body tightening as the pleasure crests sharply inside you. You press your fingers down just right, and then you're spiraling, back arching, hips trembling. You bite down on his name as it escapes, raw and breathless, your own high crashing through you in waves that steal the air from your lungs.

He hears it — that final, broken moan — and his eyes fly open, dazed and shining, locking on your screen just in time to watch your face twist in bliss, to hear the wet, desperate sounds of your release.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, completely undone all over again, like your orgasm just knocked the wind out of him.

You ride the wave out slowly, body twitching, breathing hard, trying to pull yourself back into your skin. The phone wobbles slightly where it’s propped up, catching just enough of your aftershocks — the way your hand lingers between your thighs, your chest rising and falling in ragged swells.

Silence settles, heavy and warm, the kind that only comes after you’ve given someone every inch of yourself and they’ve done the same.

You finally glance at the screen again, cheeks flushed, lips parted. “Hi.”

Oscar stares at you like you just pulled the stars from the sky.

Your grin is slow, amused. “Well, that was a performance.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re gonna kill me one day. Actually kill me.”

You giggle. “Messy boy.”

His face burns brighter. “You’re so mean.”

“You like it.”

He shakes his head but can’t stop smiling. “I really do.”

You tilt your head, voice going soft. “You okay?”

He nods, still catching his breath. “Yeah. That was… yeah.”

“You’re kinda glowing, babe.”

He huffs out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shut up.”

“Aww, no. Don’t get all shy now,” you tease gently. “You just came so hard for me. Made a mess.”

He groans again, hiding his face in his elbow, but there’s no real protest behind it.

“Next time,” you say with a wink. “In person.”

His head drops back onto the chair with a sigh, and this time his smile is soft. “Can’t wait.”

You settle into the quiet with him for a moment, watching his flushed, sleepy face on the screen. There’s something sweet in the silence, like a held breath after something beautiful.

Then, gently, you ask, “So… what are you up to tonight?”

Oscar blinks a few times, still catching up to the question. “Uh—right, yeah. Debrief in a bit. Gotta go over tire degradation, strategy calls, sector times—Carlos was mega in Sector 2, but I think we missed something on the outlap. And my entry into Turn 10 felt okay, but the data shows I was still hesitating. Might just be setup, but I’ve got a theory…”

His words pick up speed as he talks, eyes sharpening with that unmistakable focus. He sits up straighter, hands gesturing as he gets more into it, completely unaware of the way you’re watching him — the way your chest swells at how much he cares, how deeply he thinks it all through.

“I love how passionate you get about this,” you say softly, cutting in before he can spiral into corner analysis.

Oscar stops. His eyes flick to the screen again, his mouth quirking into a crooked, bashful grin. “Yeah?”

You nod. “It’s really hot.”

He laughs — short and surprised — then ducks his head, trying to hide how much it means to him.

And neither of you hang up for a while — the conversation drifting from strategy to weekend plans to nothing at all, just breathing in each other’s presence across the screen, the way people do when the feeling is too good to leave.

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri imagine #mclaren #mclaren x reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri #op81 #f1 smau #f1 social media au

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 day ago

Note

Maybe a Jack or Robby x reader who is raising her sibling(s)? The kid/teen is taken to the Pitt for whatever reason and some comforting is needed from one of our favorite new doctors? 😊😊😊

Rating: M

Warnings: Angst—a lot; Reader's half-sister has cancer; some fluff; Reader is a former medical student at the Pitt; implied age gap; mention of the death of a parent

Summary: There was nothing different, nothing new. You used to know the feeling of Robby beside you. You used to crave his attention, his approval. You felt the heat of him against your side now, as steady as it had been just a year ago.

When your mother died, the responsibility to care for your six-year-old half sister had closed in so fast. Her cancer diagnosis had hit as furiously as your mother's death, and you'd had no choice but to drop out of med school, to leave the program that you'd entered in at the Pitt.

"Hey."

"Hi—What? Why are you whispering?" Dana frowned, shaking her head as Robby beckoned her closer.

"Am I having a stroke, or seeing things, or—?" Robby nodded toward central, and Dana didn't have to turn her head to know what he was referring to.

"Her sister is in surgery. Came in half an hour ago." She broke it to him gently, and it was hardly a second before understanding washed Robby's features, his hands flexing and unflexing in the fabric of his hoodie over his arms. He took in a deep breath, raised his hand, pinched the bridge of his nose—

"Any news?"

"No. But it's early."

"She can't be back there. She doesn't work here anymore."

"No, but she knows what it's like." Dana leaned a little closer, nudged her hip against Robby's thigh. "She needs something to do. Keep her mind off of what's happening upstairs."

Robby hesitated before he nodded, raising his hand to scrub at his brow before he slid it back to his neck.

"Okay," He conceded. "Okay."

"Dr. Robby, you're needed in south fifteen."

"Yeah. On my way," He answered Perlah without a thought, glancing back toward the sound of her voice, but his eyes stayed glued to the woman at central.

"...Go on," Dana urged, "I'll keep an eye on her. She's not making decisions without input."

"Okay." He answered again, unthinking. He needed to go. There were patients that needed him—but he wondered if she needed him a little bit, too.

"We've got a patient coding in north two!"

You glanced back toward the yell, glanced over as the man near you scrambled out of his chair, leaving something behind.

"Take the pad!" You called back, nodding toward the desk.

He hurried back to his spot, snatching it up—and holding there.

"I, uh—Thanks."

You glanced toward him, brow furrowing.

"Sure."

"I'm Dennis Whitaker."

"Hi, Whitaker." You nodded over your shoulder. "You got somewhere to be?"

"Shit—Yes! Yeah, uh—Yes!"

You glanced after him, straightening up from the computer you'd been leaning over, folding your arms across your chest as you huffed out a laugh, watching him scurry after a few nurses and residents. You heard Dana chuckling behind you, and you couldn't help but shake your head, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Where the fuck did you find Bambi?" You asked, nodding after the medical student.

"Nebraska."

"Huh," You nodded, turning back to the board. "Tracks."

"Thoughts, feelings, opinions?"

"So sweet of you to ask like I know better."

"I don't mind a fresh set'a eyes every now and again."

"You don't need it."

"Maybe I do."

"Please," You scoffed, "You'll outlive us all."

It was a mistake to say, and your eyes darted to your phone screen where it was sitting on the desk. You shook your head, trying to shake yourself from the focus. You knew that you didn't cover well when Dana reached out, rubbing your arm gently.

"Why don't you get some air?" She offered softly. And sure, you knew that it would be for the best, but—

"The uh—" You cleared your throat. "The patient in south three should be sent up to psych."

It took a moment before Dana answered, "We called. We're waiting to hear back."

"How long has he been down here?"

'"'Bout a day and a half hours."

"Jesus," You hissed. "The fuck?"

"I know you've been away from the ED for a while. It's gotten worse." A hand between your shoulder blades, and a soft, "We need ya back."

"I can't afford it."

Your time, your money, your focus, your care—there was no part of returning to the Pitt that you could afford. Being able to return to school would mean losing your sister, and losing your sister would mean—

You turned and braced your hands on the desk in front of you, fighting to settle your churning stomach.

"...Go find somewhere quiet," Dana urged. "We've got it here."

"I really don't think I should be anywhere quiet right now."

"Could do more good than harm."

"Dana—"

"There probably isn't anyone in the chapel this time'a day. Go on."

It was the right suggestion to make, and you'd known it the second she'd made it. You eyed the altar with dispassionate numbness, heart thudding in your ears, eyes unfocused as you tried to take in deep breaths and steady yourself. Your phone stayed clutched in your hands, waiting—damn near praying for a vibration, a text, news.

"This seat taken?"

His voice had no right to make your heart leap into your throat, your fingers tighten further around your phone.

"Ten other pews in the place and you've gotta sit here?" You asked. You didn't turn to look, didn't nod approvingly. But that didn't stop him from stepping in and lowering to sit down beside you.

There was nothing different, nothing new. You used to know the feeling of Robby beside you. You used to crave his attention, his approval. You felt the heat of him against your side now, as steady as it had been just a year ago.

"Surprised to find you in here," He added. You shrugged a little.

"Dana's idea," You admitted. Then, before you could stop yourself, "It's where mom would be."

Robby didn't answer for a moment. You felt him shift beside you, his thigh brushing against yours, then away again.

"...You think your mom is in here now?" He asked softly. And you knew what he meant, what he was driving toward, but—

"Pretty sure we buried her in a cemetery, Robby."

"Okay—"

"Unless someone moved her and they didn't tell me—Should we check under the pews? You take left, I'll take right."

"What is it with you and sincerity, huh?"

"I'm allergic."

"What happens?"

"Oh, I swell up. Anaphylactic shock."

"Good thing you're already at the hospital."

You couldn't help but smile a bit, shaking your head.

"Were you this bad when you worked here?" He pried.

"You know, I think I was. Something about the Pitt just brings it out in me."

"...How long has she been up there?"

What about the last few things that he'd asked made him think that you wanted to answer that question? But facts were facts. And—

"An hour."

"Not bad."

"Sure," You shrugged, nodding before you couldn't help but shake your head. "You know, I never thought knowing what I know could make all'a this worse?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean—I mean when I was younger and my grandpa was in the hospital...I remember being there with him. The doctor was saying a bunch'a shit that I just didn't understand. It's one of the reasons I wanted to become a doctor, you know, to decipher what he was saying. Like learning to read hieroglyphs. But now..." You shook your head, eyes prickling with tears. "Watching Langdon and everyone work on Ellie, hearing what they were saying, reading the screens—It was worse. How could it be worse, understanding?" You slouched against the pew. "I've never wanted to be willfully ignorant before, ya know. Hearing what they were doing, just—" You tried to draw in a deep breath, failed, "Just confirmed just how fucking—" You tried to draw in another deep breath, but it caught in your throat, "How fucking bad it is." You fought to draw in another deep breath as your chest pounded, your eyes welling with tears.

Robby's arm curled around you as you folded forward, pressing the heels of your hands pressing against your eyes to stem your upset.

"She's going to be alright," He insisted, "Garcia's got her."

"Oh, good. That's good," You mumbled. "She'll hold the fact that she saved Ellie over my head forever."

"She might not."

"Oh, please. Have you met Garcia?"

Robby huffed a soft laugh, raising his hand to gently cup the back of your neck, his thumb sweeping across your nape. You let the movement soothe you the way he intended, leaning up into it.

"...Did you tell Dana to kick me out from behind central?"

"No. Why?"

"I saw you talking to her."

"You think it was about you? Self-centered much?" He knocked his knee against yours. "Maybe you should've been a doctor."

"Don't. Don't," Your huffed laugh came with a plea as you squeezed your eyes shut. Robby smoothed his hand across your shoulders, drawing you into his side. And where you would've shied from the touch a year ago, you welcomed it now, leaning heavily against him. You felt him nuzzle against your hair, rest his head against yours, draw in a deep breath. You let yourself hone in on him for a few moments—his warmth, his steadiness where you've so badly missed it, wanted it.

You drew in a deep breath, held it, sighed through your nose.

"You should get back in there," You mumbled.

"The others've got it."

"They need you."

A moment of quiet, another nuzzle against your head.

"What do you need?" He murmured. And you were tempted to fib, to tell him that you didn't need anything. But it had been so long since you'd been asked what you needed, and even longer since you were willing to be honest about your answer.

"...I don't fucking know, dude," You mumbled.

"Is that the truth?"

You startled when you felt your phone buzz in your hand, and you sat up before you could stop yourself, bringing the phone up to eye the screen and scanning the text. You opened your mouth, drawing in a deep breath for the first time in a few hours.

"What is it?"

"She's in the recovery room," You relayed. "She's in—She's in the fucking recovery room—I shouldn't be swearing in a chapel but oh my god—Oh my fucking god," You breathed, folding in on yourself.

Robby didn't let you get far as you shook, just waited, and held as the news settled.

You leaned up slowly, propping your elbows on your thighs and pressing your face into your hands.

"How long 'til you can see her?"

"Half an hour."

"Okay," He murmured, rubbing his hand over your back. "Go get some coffee in the staff room."

"Staff room is for, uh—Staff? Which I have not been for a long time."

"Cafeteria coffee isn't as good."

"I should get the full Pitt experience."

Robby chuckled softly. "You'll do better with ours."

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

You grunted, leaning back against the pew.

"You should get back," You urged again. "I'll be fine."

"...Okay," He murmured. "Keep me updated?"

"Sure." It was another moment before he stood, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze before letting go. You twisted as his footsteps faded, unable to help yourself. "Robby?"

He stopped in the doorway, and you almost crumbled as he caught your eye. You hesitated before you nodded.

"I did feel her here—Mom, I mean."

Robby gave a small smile before he nodded, too, taking a step and turning away.

You waited until he was fully out of the chapel before you let yourself crumble.

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ;

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ;

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

#Michael Robinavitch x Reader #Michael Robinavitch x You #Dr Robby x Reader #Dr Robby x You #asks #replies #anon

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soapysoapysoapysoapy · 2 days ago

Text

Soap was out for the weekend — something about visiting family, though you suspected it had more to do with getting away from the shared apartment before one of you killed the other over dishes or laundry. Which left you and Ghost.

You’d fully planned to spend the entire weekend bed rotting: snacks, shitty TV, no pants. And for most of Saturday, that dream lived.

Until Ghost texted.

Need a favor. Bringing a bird back. Keep her entertained while I sort my room? Won’t be long.

You stared at the message, squinting (you groaned out loud) but you knew you were not about to leave him hanging. You hit him with a reluctant “fine.” Simon Riley asking you for help with his latest one-night stand? That was new. He usually kept his personal business separate.

But whatever. You owed him for covering your ass on last week’s op. And you were bored. So you sighed, peeled yourself off the couch, and tried to make yourself look slightly less feral before they arrived.

Door opens and in comes Ghost with his date. She’s cute. Really cute, actually. A little overdressed for your disaster of a living room but she doesn't seem fazed. Ghost gives you both an awkward nod before disappearing down the hall, leaving you two sitting there with the tv quietly playing some nonsense reality show you left on.

Bubbly, a little flirty — the total opposite of Ghost’s usual cold, dead-eyed energy. And when you offered her a drink while Ghost disappeared down the hall, she plopped down next to you on the couch, all easy smiles and sparkling eyes.

It started with harmless small talk. Then she complimented your shirt. Then your hair. Then her hand was on your thigh, and she’s laughing at something stupid you said, leaning in a little too close, and then—it just happens. You’re kissing her, your brain going oh shit oh shit oh shit the whole time.

So now here you were. Making out with Ghost’s date on the couch. In your shared apartment. While wearing pajamas. On a random Saturday.

Cue Ghost walking back in mid-moment, stopping dead in the doorway. His eyes narrow behind the mask, you can feel the betrayal radiating off him. Like you just snatched his last protein bar. His date pulls back, breathless and giggly, and Ghost just grumbles something like, "Right. Brilliant." before motioning for her to follow him to his room.

You don’t say anything. You just sink deeper into the couch, cheeks burning, cursing whatever magnetic chaos field you must emit.

An hour later, you’re finally knocked out in your room when there’s a soft knock at your door. You crack it open, and there she is. Disheveled, mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Thought I’d come spend more time with you…” she purrs.

You just stare at her, sleep-addled and brain-buffering like a dial-up connection. Because now you’ve officially entered roommate hell.

You wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck. Mostly because you barely slept. The girl—Ghost's girl—ended up staying way longer than you meant for her to. Things got...a bit intense. Now it’s morning, your head’s pounding, and you can already feel the awkward tension waiting for you out there like a landmine.

You shuffle out of your room in a hoodie and joggers, trying to pretend you’re just going to get a glass of water and not about to face the consequences of your crimes. But the second you step into the kitchen, he’s there.

Ghost. Sitting at the table, arms crossed, mask still on, staring at you like you personally set fire to his car.

You both just stand there in silence for a beat.

Then he speaks, voice flat as a goddamn pancake: "Sleep well? Or...too busy for that?"

You blink. Your brain offers no defense. None. "Si—" "Nah," he cuts you off, shaking his head, scoffing under his breath. "Pied off. In my own fuckin’ flat."

You wince. Because, yeah, he’s not wrong.

You go for the fridge just to do something and he keeps going, muttering like he’s talking more to himself than to you: "Bring a bird back, and she’s in your room by midnight. Unreal. Soap leaves for one weekend and the place turns into Love Island."

You choke on your sip of water, trying not to laugh because that’ll only make it worse.

"Don’t know why I even bother," Ghost grumbles, getting up from the table with heavy steps. "Tell you what—next time, you pull, I’ll keep her entertained for you, yeah? See how you like it."

You try to apologize, but he’s already halfway down the hall, muttering: "Never trusting you with a favor again. Bloody traitor."

Meanwhile, Soap texts the group chat from Scotland, oblivious: "Morning, lads! Miss me yet? 👊😂"

Ghost leaves him on read. You don’t even dare reply.

#cod #cod fanfic #cod imagine #cod modern warfare #soap cod #johnny soap mactavish #ghost cod #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost fanfic #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #and they were roommates

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multific · 1 day ago

Text

The Letters He Never Burned

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: Through quiet letters and unspoken truths, something bloomed.

It began as a favour.

You never thought a single letter could reach anyone, let alone someone like him.

You wrote about your garden, the books you read, and your cat who sat on the kitchen table like a king.

You kept it light. Hopeful.

You figured, whoever got it, if they even bothered to read, would need something that felt normal.

Not pity. Not a reminder of where they were.

You didn’t expect a reply.

So when an envelope arrived weeks later, sealed tight with careful, blocky handwriting and a military return address, your fingers trembled.

Not much to say. But I got your letter. It helped.

Don’t stop writing.

-Ghost

And so, you didn’t.

Over the months, the letters grew longer and more personal.

He never gave much away.

But he started asking questions. About your day. About the people in your life.

He asked what your favourite season was. If you believed people could change.

I don’t sleep well. That’s not new.

But I read your letter twice last night. Thought I’d dream of something better.

I didn’t. But the thought helped.

-Ghost

There was no photo of him. No voice. Just his scrawl, always signed Ghost until, one day, it was just Simon.

And then it stopped.

No more letters. No word from the front.

You checked the News, and they said a team had gone dark in the field, no names released. You checked your mailbox every day for weeks. Every knock at the door made your heart stumble.

You tried to move on.

You failed.

Weeks turned into months.

And then one evening, a knock at your door.

When you open the door, there’s a man on your porch.

Tall. Broad. Worn leather gloves. Civilian clothes, but you know instantly that he doesn’t belong to this kind of quiet.

He removes his hood.

His face is pale, gaunt. Haunted.

“Simon?” you whisper.

He nods once. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t move.

“I didn’t know if you were”

“Didn’t know if I was coming back either.”

You don’t wait. You close the distance and wrap your arms around him.

His are stiff at first, unsure, but then his whole body sinks into yours like he’s been holding his breath for months.

“I read your letters,” he murmurs into your hair. “Every bloody one. Even the one about the cat knocking your tea over.”

You laugh through your tears. “I thought you’d stopped writing because…”

“I didn’t know if I deserved to keep them.”

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye. “But I never stopped thinking about you. And when I made it back, you were the only place I wanted to go.”

You place your hand against his cheek, rough with stubble.

“You don’t have to say anything else,” you whisper.

“I do,” he replies hoarsely. “Because I didn’t think I could feel anything again. But I felt you. Every damn letter. And now that I’m here… I’m not going anywhere, love.”

And when he kisses you, it tastes like salt, and everything he never thought he’d have.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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chanandlersstuff · 2 days ago

Text

Sunshine and Loverboy

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Reader.

Summary: The timeline of how Hayden gradually fell in love with her until he was madly in love, to the point of no returning.

Word count: 8.639

Warnings: Not much actually, age-gap and emotions and lots of feelings.

Author’s note: Hiii, thanks a lot for the love I've been reciving for the series and the nice messages.

It's been a while, but not that long, time it to perfection to be a month.

I hope this is what you wanted to read after the last part, after the rough path between them. And I want to say that I would gladly made them suffer more, but I didn't want you all to hate me so I fast forward right to the part we all wanted.

With that being said, enjoy, there's more to come about those two and I hope you enjoy it. Lots of love, ME.

gif credit @hayden-christensen

← Previous part

May 2022. This is what you came for.

Months had passed. Quiet ones. Months of polite distance, of sterile texts. A "Happy Holidays" here, a “Congrats on the trailer drop” there. Nothing like what it used to be. Nothing close to warmth.

They’d both thought the time apart might heal things. Soften the edges. Drown the ache. Maybe time would do what neither of them could, make it easier to let go.

But the second they saw each other again, it all came crashing back. The longing, the weight of everything unsaid, the quiet ache blooming behind their ribs like something alive.

For Hayden, it was like the sun had finally broken through months of grey skies, like something inside him, something starved, was finally warm again, like something in his chest uncoiled all at once, then immediately twisted again, tighter than before.

For her, it was like remembering how to breathe and hating herself for how much she missed it. Her heart slammed against her chest like it wanted to break free, like it wanted to jump out her chest and run to the person who it belonged to.

They saw each other across a sea of people. Publicists, fans, cameras, executives, handlers, stylists, all of them blurring into white noise.

Hayden stood still, rooted to the floor in his black tailored jacket, hands stopped mid air, eyes only on her. Like the room had tilted. Like the lights and sounds and flashes had vanished and the noise disappeared.

It was just her.

She walked slowly, trying not to rush. She had no right to, not after the silence, not after that night. But her body betrayed her, it always did around him. Her smile faltered for the first time that day.

God, he looks good.

Hair swept back, eyes lit from within, the curve of a smile he was trying hard to hide. Not perfect. Just…Hayden.

People moved between them. Camera crews. Assistants. Disney PR. She gave a practiced smile. He nodded to someone saying his name.

But they were walking towards the other, slowly, tentatively. One moment there they were, the other they were close. Too close.

She looked up, timid and unsure, the way she had the very first time they met in person, like she was bracing for impact, and Hayden’s body was moving before his brain could catch up. Stepping forward and hugging her.

Not a staged hug. Not a half-press of bodies for the sake of polite industry affection. No, his arms wrapped around her like he’d been waiting a lifetime to do it again.

She froze for a second, caught off guard. Her breath hitched, but then her body remembered too. Quickly easing in his arms, inhaling deeply so he could invade all her senses, her hands gently curled at his back softly.

But the hug was over far too fast, ripped away by reality. By flashes. By movement. By all the eyes watching.

They stepped back and it was like it never happened. But it did. It so fucking did.

His heart was still racing. Her perfume clung to the fabric of his jacket.

She looked at him, blinking the daze out of her eyes, a hand still hovering like it didn’t know where to fall.

Hayden found his voice first. Croaky. Thin. Meaning every word.

“You look good.”

God, you look incredible.

She smiled, small, timid, but he knew it was a real one. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “So do you.”

Because he never didn’t look good.

She wanted to say more and he wanted to hold her again, but then a handler’s voice cut through the moment. He was needed for a press stop while she was needed for photos, which put a slight look on her face, which was quickly gone, but he noticed.

And just like that, they were being pulled apart again. Looking over their shoulders briefly before they were gone.

Back into the crowd, back into orbit, apart, once again, and God, it hurt more than before.

Because even after all this time, touching her still felt like home and letting her go still felt like hell.

Along the day, they were ushered here and there, photo lines, interviews, press booths. They barely had time to breathe, let alone talk and maybe that was a mercy because they wouldn't have known where to start.

They kept looking just past the other, like they were pretending, like it didn’t ache. But the tension grew. Every time she caught a glimpse of him, her pulse skipped. Every time he heard her laugh from across the room, he looked without meaning to.

They were orbiting again. Two moons caught in the same gravity, doomed to circle without ever colliding. Close, but never quite touching.

When she found a second to breathe, a moment of peace, she slipped into the panel crowd, as if she was just another fan. Because before she was a director, she was a fan.

She texted Ewan as she found a spot at the side of the crowd, watching as the room swelled with anticipation.

Just bumped into the cutest looking boy dressed as you Might’ve found my favorite Obi-Wan

You’re in the panel?

Yeah

Don’t get lost in the crowd We need you

You’re going to do fine You’re more used to the reflector than me

I'll be fine Your lover boy on the other hand…

He's going to be fine too The people love him He just has to believe it

You love him too?

You’re about to be presented Good luck

You didn’t answer, so I’m taking that as a yes

She didn’t reply, just stared at the stage as the lights dimmed and the host’s voice boomed through the space, echoes of excitement curling in the air.

Minutes after, with a great song in the background, the pair walked in sync to the big couch in the middle of the stage and, as the fan girl she was, she cheered and applauded for them. It took five solid minutes for the crowd to stop making noise, encouraged by the older of the pair of course while he looked around.

She watched Hayden in all his glory. The shy smile on his lips, how he waved to the crowd with that unsure, sweet energy that only made them scream louder, the way he manspread with those legs long, one hand casually on his knee, his hair was swept behind his ears. He was mesmerising to her eyes, he always had been and always will be. The black suited him perfectly.

Hayden was trying not to look nervous, but she knew him. Too well.

The typical questions were asked, how it felt to come back, how it was feeling to be back, how excited they were to be there. Normal, routine questions. The interviewer asked him a question, but he praised the crowd, making them go wild again. While the crowd died down he looked among the ground, her cheer was the one that was heard, and she almost passed out from embarrassment, but it was like they had some kind of pull towards the other because the second she opened her eyes big, he found her and an immense smile plastered across his face, unfiltered, real.

They called his name but he kept watching her way. He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to, not for a second. Even in a room full of adoration, it was her he looked for. Her he wanted to impress. Her approval he still needed like oxygen.

The flashbulbs didn’t bother him. Only her silence did numbers on him.

He was seated in the middle of the stage, people calling his name, but he could feel her. A whole sea of people between them, and he felt her. Always.

It took a little nudge from his friend and the interviewer calling his name again to take him back to the present. “I’m sorry what?” Hayden said with a smile.

The crowd and the interview laughed and his friend took the chance to lean in and whispered something to his ear. “I take by the look on your face that you found her, lover boy.” Ewan leant back on his seat and enjoyed how his friend rolled his eyes but a blushed appeared in his cheeks.

The interview went back to normal, back and forth with question and answers and the crowd shouting how much they loved them, they laughed and smiled the whole time. While he wasn’t answering questions, and Ewan was, Hayden kept glancing to where she was and then looked around, to not be too obvious, like he was afraid he might get caught wanting her.

“You know, I had to bridge a gap between my last work as Obi-Wan and then Alec Guinness in the New Hope and we just sort of brainstormed what we thought about it. The film was going to be a movie at one point and it turned into a series. Thank God Miss Director became our director because she's splendid.” The people cheered and she smiled, not only at the nickname but at the kind words. “My god she's so good, she's so talented and because she directed all of the episodes it's got her singular vision throughout.” The praise of Ewan, an actor with so much experience in his career, someone who she admired, made her blushed and smile like crazy. “And yeah, you'll see where he's at,” he finished with a cheeky smile.

“And Hayden, how about you?” The interviewer looked at him. “I mean obviously you are, you were, playing Anakin and now you're kind of playing Vader and so, how are we seeing these changes happen? What are we seeing from Anakin now or are we seeing Vader?” They all were excited for the answer.

Hayden sat straight and smiled. “That's what makes this character so compelling, that duality, that inner conflict of self-identity.” The crowd cheered. “It's just been such a thrill to get to come back and continue my journey with the character and to get to explore Darth Vader at this point in the timeline has been huge.” They applauded. “But more than that, it’s been a gift to do it under the guidance of someone so capable.” He paused and looked her way again, but this time, he didn’t look away. “Ewan said, Miss Director, as we like to call her…” His smile softened, sincerity bleeding into every word. “She’s incredibly, the best out there. She’s so intelligent and cool and creative.”

Hearing those words from his lips made her blushed like a teenage girl all over again.

“She did an amazing job showing these characters at their best. For the fans. For all of us.” The people cheered again and he nodded. “Let’s get an applause for her, she’s amazing,” Hayden said.

And before anyone could react, he started clapping. Loud. First. Proud. Ewan joined in, then the rest of the stage, then the room, making her freeze in her stop.

A sea of people cheering, clapping, and yet, he was watching her. And she was watching him too, because she always did.

The press photos were chaos in slow motion, shouts from photographers layered over one another like crashing waves.

“This way, Ewan!” “Hayden, eyes to your left!” “Miss Director, chin up, beautiful!”

Flash.

They were all lined up, grinning like professionals, rotating in and out of different formations, cast group shots, duo shots, solo poses. Everyone playing their part in the well-oiled, red-carpet machine.

And she? She was luminous in the storm, blinding. To the point Hayden could barely breathe. Staring like a young boy, breath snagging behind his ribs.

How is her face not plastered across every screen in the world? How are there not statues built in her image? How has the world not fallen in love with her already?

She looked like she belonged in another dimension entirely. Her suit was plum-purple, almost like the stains she had on her lips on new years, that kissed every curve like it was made just for her. Her heels gave her just enough height to command the space as she moved with subtle confidence, and her silver jewelry sparkled each time she moved under the lights. She was elegant and slightly fidgety in a way only he would notice. She looked like a star who didn’t know she was one. Like something that shouldn’t be real, and yet… here she was.

And the scent. That jasmine warmth that he had memorized since meeting her. It hit him again as she walked past, brushing just close enough that he could feel the hem of her suit against his leg.

God, she was mesmerizing.

Hayden watched her from the opposite end of the lineup, his own face calm and composed for the cameras, but his eyes kept drifting. Even when it wasn’t his turn, even when he should’ve been adjusting his stance, he looked at her.

She looked like a goddess and she didn’t even know it.

And now everyone else would see it too. Everyone else would know what he’d always known. She was splendid. She was brilliant.

Maybe that was how it should be. Maybe he should’ve always been just a witness to her becoming. Still, he missed being part of it.

She laughed, genuine and sudden, and his eyes snapped to her without thinking. Ewan had said something to her. He didn’t know what, he couldn’t hear it over the noise and shutter clicks, but her head tipped back with laughter, hand instinctively brushing Ewan’s arm as she leaned in, her face lit up.

His chest clenched, not with jealousy, but with envy, sharp and cold and familiar. Because once, it would’ve been him.

It should have been me.

Once, he would’ve been the reason she laughed through her nerves. Once, she would’ve leaned into his space like that. Once, she would’ve nudged his side with her elbow. Once, she would’ve looked to him for safety in the chaos. Once, it would’ve been his name that calmed her heart.

But now? Now he just kept stealing glances and swallowing the ache down. Now she stood three people away, and every inch felt like an entire universe. But God, he missed being the one she looked at when she laughed.

How on God’s green Earth you let the center of your universe slip just far enough that you couldn’t reach her?

“Can we get one of Hayden and Miss Director together, please?” a photographer called out, cutting through the noise.

The whole world paused and his stomach twisted.

He would’ve declined, gently, if she hesitated, if she so much as flinched. But she didn’t, instead a smile appeared on her lips. That small, tired, quiet smile, the one she gave when she’d already felt too much that day and was still standing.

She walked toward him, unhurried. Graceful. Controlled and he met her halfway. When their eyes met in the middle, everything went still.

The lights, the cameras, the shouting voices, all of it dissolved into a low hum in the back of his mind, drowned out by the roar of his pulse. Everything in him leaned toward her without moving. Every cell of his body reached.

As soon as her hand found his back, gently, his lungs stopped working, his body stilled, like even breathing might ruin it. Just by a simple touch, steadying, familiar, touch.

For months, he’d only remembered the feel of her touch in memories. Ghosts of her touch. The phantom sensation of her closeness. Now, here she was. Real. Near. And he could barely take it. His body shuddered with restraint.

Her touch seared right through the fabric, right into his skin, right into the ache he’d been carrying since the last time he hugged her, all the way back to September.

He had to physically stop himself from looking at her the whole time, from turning into her the way he used to, like a planet caught in her pull. He looked forward, like he was supposed to, pose, smile, look composed professional and separate, but his jaw was tight from the effort, molars hurting.

Every part of him wanted to turn into her, to lean in, to surrender at her mercy, and the flesh was weak, so he looked at her. Because he couldn’t not and it wrecked him.

The makeup was soft and flattering, but it was her eyes that did the most damage, sparkling, alive, present. And, God those lips. Parted ever so slightly, the corner twitching with nerves or humor or both. They were the kind of soft that invited sin. The kind that made him forget every vow of distance, every plan to hold back. Hayden almost crumbled at her feets.

His body screamed to lean in and kiss her. To close the space that never should have existed between them.

God, he wanted to kiss her. He needed to kiss her. Because this, she, was gravity and he’d been floating, lost, for far too long.

He wanted to bury his hands in her hair and taste every month he’d spent without her. He wanted to tell her that every reason he’d had in July, every wall he’d built, felt just a little less solid now.

But he didn’t have the right.

He could have kissed her then. But he didn’t. He could have chosen her. But he pulled away. He could have kept choosing her. But he was a coward.

Even if he still believed it was the right choice, believed it had protected her, protected them both. Standing next to her, her hand on his back, his name being shouted by strangers, he wasn’t so sure anymore. All reasoning shook, it shook hard. And in its place, in its cracks, bloomed something else: Regret. Bone-deep, breath-stealing, regret. Because he still ached in every place she had once loved him and he still loved her in every place that could not speak it aloud.

Then he noticed it, the tiny tells of her anxiety.

The way her fingers curled slightly against his blazer. The way her shoulders looked perfect to everyone else but were just a little too tight. The way she held her smile like it was painted on.

So he leaned in, subtly, and his hand lifted slowly, gently, brushing across her back in a barely-there caress, meant only for her.

His voice was low, only for her ears. “Just breathe and smile,” he said, tenderly, every syllable feather-soft. “You’re a natural. Everyone here loves you.”

She looked at him, just a flick of her gaze, but it was enough.

“You got this, Bubble,” he reassured her.

The nickname fell from his lips like it had been waiting there the whole time. Like it had been sitting just behind his teeth for months, desperate for permission to breathe.

It was effortless. Natural. Home. A real one. And she smiled, looking at him and Hayden did too, making the cameras click for a few seconds before they looked up to the front.

He was almost certain it was the only photo from the entire day where his smile touched his eyes. Born from her touch. Her warmth. Her nearness.

Because of her. Always because of her.

And as the flashbulbs went off, as they stepped away with professionalism still wrapped around them like armor, he wondered if she could feel it too—that unspoken thing lingering in the space between their hands.

That thing that still lived. That never stopped living.

Backstage was a hive of movement, headsets crackling, clipboards flipping, assistants whispering frantic directions, stage lights flickered behind curtains, the final checks were happening. The crowd outside was already thunderous, laughter, cheers, the sound of anticipation about to break, the bass from the stage thumping low against the concrete beneath their feet.

She stood near the back wall, near the emergency exit light, which she was about to use to escape, hidden from the bustle, just far enough from everyone to look like she needed space. Not close enough for anyone to really see her.

But he saw her.

Hayden had been looking over his shoulder every few seconds, completely ignoring what one of the cast was saying, eyes glue to her.

Because he knew.

Knew from the way her hand gripped her own arm like a lifeline, from the way her eyes stared out at nothing, from the way she bit down on her bottom lip, too hard, too long. Panic. The familiar threat of it. Coursing under her skin like a storm waiting to break.

He didn’t think, nor ask and just walked up, quiet and slow, and stopped a breath away.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

He stepped in a little closer, cautious, like approaching a skittish bird. “You with me?”

She gave the smallest nod, fragile, like it took everything she had.

“I can’t breathe,” she admitted. The whisper of it cracked something in his chest. “I can’t—I don’t think I can do this.”

His chest ached. “Okay,” he said, voice a thread. “Okay. Just look at me, alright?”

He didn’t say “you’ll be fine” or “you always pull through”, because this wasn’t about reassurance. It was about holding her there, right in that breath, and keeping her grounded.

So he stepped closer and her eyes lifted, wide and shiny, fragile. And he stood in front of her, not blocking, but shielding. Like a wall. Like a harbor. Like a man who would keep the rest of the world at bay if it meant she could breathe.

With his 6’0” frame towering over her, broad shoulders cutting her off from the crowd behind them, he dipped his head until they were eye level. Until the world shrank to just the two of them.

And reached for her hands without hesitation, took them in his like they belonged there. His thumbs brushed gently over her knuckles.

“Just here,” he whispered. “Just me and you. Nothing else.”

Her icy fingers tightened around his warm ones. It was too soft, too much, but it was also all she had.

She blinked up at him then, eyes glassy with panic, lips parted in the way they always were when she was trying not to cry.

“Hey,” he said again, softer this time. “Just breathe, alright? Just with me.”

She inhaled, shaky. Then again.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. “I don’t—I’m not—”

He knew the words before she said them, because he knew the script. Impostor syndrome was a familiar ghost. But it had no place in her.

So he brought one hand up to her cheek, warm hand to her cold skin, and tilted her face gently upward, brushing the edge of her jaw with his thumb, just enough to catch her eyes. His other brought her trembling hand to his chest, right over his heart, and pressed it there, warm and solid beneath her palm, grounding her.

“Don’t do that,” he said, and his voice cracked, just a little. “Don’t say you’re not supposed to be here. You made this. All of this.”

She looked like she might break, so he stepped in closer, closer than he should have. Close enough that her forehead could rest against his chest if she leaned forward even an inch.

His heartbeat was so steady, grounding, strong enough to borrow, and her forehead slowly leaned forward and rested her forehead just below his collarbone, eyes fluttering closed.

And he couldn’t not hold her, so he did. She hadn’t realized how close she was to falling apart until he wrapped one strong arm around her, pulling her gently against him, securely. As if he’d done it a thousand times, because he had, because this was muscle memory. Because this was them and she let herself be folded into him like a breath finding its place again.

He tucked her gently beneath his chin, letting her rest against the warmth of him, his taller frame folding around her protectively. Hayden pressed her into him with just the right amount of pressure, not too tight, not too loose. Just right. Just enough to remind her that she wasn’t alone.

She melted into his hold, like her body knew exactly where it belonged. Her breath started to even out. The noise outside faded into background static. Her heart beat slower. His scent calmed every frantic nerve.

Leaning down just enough to the point his lips brushed against her temple, his hand came up, slowly, reverently, to stroke through her hair, soft and steady. The way you touch something sacred.

“Remember what I told you the first time we met in person?” he asked, voice a whisper only she could hear, wrapped in warmth and memory.

She shook her head against his chest.

He smiled, barely. “I told you… If they chose you to be here, it’s because you’re the best.”

Hayden pulled back just enough to look at her, his hand now on the side of her neck, thumb brushing lightly under her jaw. His eyes cathing how her lower lip quivered, her eyes glossy.

“It’s true,” he said again, firmer this time. “So don’t let your head play games with you.”

Her chin dropped as she nodded, and a single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

And Hayden, God, he wanted to wipe it away with his hands, to brush it aside with his lips, with his soul, with every part of himself he’d been keeping quiet for months. He wanted to hold her face, kiss the panic out of her skin, give her peace in a way only he ever could.

But he didn’t and instead just held her closer, anchored her there to him.

“Just breathe with me,” he murmured, low and gentle. A prayer. “Just me and you. Nothing else.”

And so they did.

Inhale. Exhale. Together.

Her forehead rested against his chest for the briefest second, her hand still over his heart, his arm still anchoring in place. Their chests rising and falling in sync. The rest of the world kept moving, but they didn’t. They stayed.

It was torture and home at the same time.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered into the space between them, just for her. “Not tonight.”

Not ever.

She smiled, barely. Broken but grateful. “You always say the right thing,” she said, the words catching in her throat.

“I don’t.” His lips curved, eyes lowering, heavy with everything he never said. “Not usually.” Not with you. “But I know you and that helps.”

She let out a soft breath of a laugh, shaky but real. Because yes, he did. Better than anyone ever had.

He looked at her then, really looked at her. Eyes searching every inch of her face like it was the last time he’d be allowed to memorize her.

He wanted to say something. Anything. But the right words still lived somewhere between his throat and his chest, and neither would give them up. So they stayed there, stuck and heavy.

A call came from the stage crew, they were about to be introduced and the curtain was about to be lifted.

She pulled back gently, smoothing her jacket with a shaky breath. “Thanks.”

And he nodded, jaw tight. “Anytime you need me.”

Then she gave him a small smile, tight, brave, and walked past him, her perfume trailing behind like the memory of a dream he never got to finish and he stared after her, fists clenched at his sides.

They couldn’t keep doing this. They wouldn’t. Not after tonight.

They still hadn’t really spoken, but it wasn’t necessary because their silence had learned to carry volumes.

All day they had been pushed and pulled, spun like planets around a dying star, and still, the second they laid eyes on each other again, they remembered everything. Every laugh. Every almost. Every smile. The goodbyes. And it was still too much.

And the tension? The ache? It hadn’t faded with time, it had evolved, becoming something deeper, quieter, unshakable.

The road was quiet, almost eerily so after the storm of energy that had been the convention. The soft hum of the highway filled the silence around him, headlights stretching into the dark as Anaheim faded behind him.

His shirt had the first couple of buttons undone, sleeves folded almost to his elbows, suit jacket thrown in the passenger seat, and one arm resting on the door.

The adrenaline started to wear off, leaving only the low ache of exhaustion mixed with the buzz from earlier in his bones. His mind was elsewhere, like usually lately, and a constant hum in his chest that had started since he saw her again.

His phone rang once, a smile appeared on his lips as soon as he saw the name of the caller and pressed the button on the dash. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Daddy!” Her voice was bright and sweet, like it always was.

It always made something in him settle, no matter how loud his world got. No matter how heavy.

“Did you talk about the show today?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “We had a big panel. Lots of people. A lot.”

“Did you wear that dark shirt you look cool in?”

“I did,” he laughed. “You always know what I’m wearing, huh?”

“Because I know you,” she said simply, as if that explained everything. “And I saw the panel on Youtube.”

“Did you now?”

She hummed. “They were so loud, when you and Ewan walked out” she commented.

“Yeah,” he nodded, despite the fact that she couldn't see him.

“And they screamed and clapped so loud when you talked about Bubble too,” she sounded happy.

He smiled, chest aching in the best way.

“You looked like a total nerd in love, daddy.”

Hayden’s hand tightened on the wheel. “Did I now?”

“You did.” She giggled. “Everyone in the comments said you were ‘down bad.’ I didn’t know what that meant, but I do now.”

He grinned. “I’m gonna have to talk to your mom about your internet access.”

“Too late.” She said it like a challenge, then softened. “Did she look pretty?”

His smile softened too. “More than pretty.”

“Did you say that?”

“No,” he admitted, voice small now. “Not with those words.”

“Why not?”

And there it was, that tiny dagger of truth.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I guess I got scared.”

“Of what?”

He blinked. “It’s not that simple, bug.”

“Why not?” Her voice tilted up. “Do you love her?”

The words hit harder than expected, not because they were new, but because they were true.

He exhaled. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I do.”

There was a long pause on the other end. He could hear her thinking.

“Like…movie love?” she asked, and he could hear her climbing into bed on the other side of the phone. “Like when the boy looks at the girl and knows he wants to be in her movie forever?”

He smiled, painfully. “Yeah. Just like that.”

There was a rustling of sheets.

Then, soft and serious: “Then why haven’t you told her yet?”

He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to explain fear and timing and guilt and almosts.

“I think you should tell her,” Briar said firmly. “Because if you love her like that, and you don’t say it, then… she won’t know she’s in your story.”

He blinked up at the ceiling.

“And I was watching Anastasia again today,” she added, her voice dreamy now, “and remember how Dimitri gave her the music box and said he didn't know he was in love with her until he wasn’t with her anymore?”

He smiled, heart squeezing. “I remember.”

“And he almost let her go,” she whispered, “but then he didn’t.”

Hayden swallowed hard.

“You’re my brave Daddy, right?”

He cleared his throat. “Right.”

“Then don’t be like the boys who are scared. Be like Dimitri. Say it. Or else you’re gonna be sad. And I don’t want that.”

He sat in silence for a moment, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “I don’t want that either,” he said.

“You love her,” she said again, like it was the most obvious thing in the universe. “So go tell her.”

And suddenly, everything settled.

It was a truth settled into him like a stone finding its place at the bottom of a lake. Because she was right.

Not that he didn’t know he loved her, because he had known it for a long time. But hearing it out loud, from the voice that mattered most in his world… it struck him differently.

It solidified the truth.

Now it was clear. Solid. Unshakeable.

He loved her. Loved her and he had to tell her with honesty, with himself, with every truth he’d held back since July. He had to tell her, not next time, not if it comes up.

Hayde you have to tell her now.

Because she deserved to know she was his story, she’d always been. And maybe… maybe it wasn’t too late.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Okay what?” she asked sleepily.

“I’ll tell her.”

A pause.

Then her quiet little voice again, already half-asleep: “Good. You always sound happier when she’s around.”

It’s been a long time coming.

The street was quiet. That kind of quiet that only lived between midnight and dawn, where even the wind seemed to whisper.

Hayden parked outside her house, headlights dimmed. The dashboard lights glowed soft orange, casting shadows across his face. The dash clock blinked back at him, the numbers meaningless, his breath fogging faint against the window. He sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel like it might anchor him.

His chest was tight. Breath shallow. A wild, restless energy alive in every inch of him.

What are you doing, Hayden?

He stared at the house. At her house. Lights still on inside, a flicker of warmth behind the curtains. Her world. Her quiet. It looked warm inside, safe. It looked like her.

He closed his eyes. Briar’s voice still echoed in his chest like gospel. “You love her, so go tell her.”

He could have waited for the “right time”, but having her in his arms again at the convention had opened the floodgates, and he couldn’t live behind the dam anymore.

He couldn’t go another night pretending he was fine, because holding it in hurt more than the fear of being turned away. He’d already wasted enough time.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, shoving the door open.

The night air hit him like a wave, cold, honest as he walked up the front steps, heart hammering like it wanted to tear through his ribs. Like if he didn’t knock right now, he’d stay lost in the almost.

He knocked. Once. Twice. And then the door opened.

She stood there, hair down, wrapped in a worn hoodie, barefoot on the wooden floor, glasses sliding down her nose. And still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Hi,” he breathed.

Her brows furrowed, surprised. “Hayden?”

His name in her mouth was soft. Questioning. A little stunned.

“I know,” he said quickly, hands up like he might stop her from closing the door. “I know. It’s late. I’m sorry, I just—”

He looked at her, really looked at her. Her tired eyes. The way she held the door with one hand, like she wasn’t sure if she should let him in.

So he stood in the glow of her porch light and let it spill.

“I was an idiot,” he said, voice thick. “I’ve been an idiot. Since July. Maybe longer. I’ve been walking around pretending I’m okay, that I made the right call. But I didn’t. I’ve been so, madly, in love with you, and I didn’t say it. I let you walk away from me with a broken heart.”

She didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just breathed.

He kept going.

“I meant what I said back then. About the risk. About wanting to protect you. But I should’ve told you the rest. The part where I—” he swallowed, rough and sharp, “—I wake up thinking about you. All the time.”

His voice dropped, like he was afraid of how big the truth felt, but he ached with it.

“Where your laugh is one of my favorite sounds. Where every time I see jasmines I think of you. Where I want to know what you think about my outfits because you are one of the most stylish person I know.”

Her eyes softened, just a little. And it kept pouring out.

“Where breakfast with you is one of my favorite moments and I want them with you, every day. Where I want to stay up until four in the morning watching musicals with you, even though I’ll complain and secretly love every minute. I want to kiss you in the morning, and fight over what coffee brand to buy. I want all of it. I want everything with you.”

He stepped closer, just enough for the light from inside to touch his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything. For being a coward. For hurting you. For not choosing you when I should’ve.”

A pause. A breath.

He let his hands fall to his sides, itching to touch her, completely open, completely bare.

“I didn’t plan this,” he admitted. “I didn’t expect you. But I can’t pretend I don’t feel it anymore.”

He looked at her, eyes burning, and stepped forward. One more inch. One more heartbeat closer.

“I think about you. Constantly.”

A moment of silence. Then he breathed, like it might be his last chance.

“Maybe it’s late. Maybe I missed my moment. But I’m here now. I’m not afraid. I’m just—”

He gave a quiet, broken laugh. Shook his head.

“I’m just a man, standing in front of the woman he loves, asking if there’s still a chance.” His voice came out all raw and wrecked.

She stared at him and he thought maybe his heart would stop from the weight of it all.

Her lips parted. Her chest rose. But no words came.

“I know I hurt you,” Hayden whispered, every word cracking under the weight of it. “I know I did. But I had to say it, because if I loved you less… I might be able to talk about it more.”

Her eyes shimmered in the porchlight. The night bent around them like the first verse of a love song that had taken too long to write. There he stood, on her porch, his heart in her hands, chest crack open, waiting, hoping

And she… folded her arms, leaning in the doorway, she tilted her head, full of grace. The quiet stretched between them, tight as thread.

“Can I talk now?”

Hayden’s chest nearly caved in. “Yeah,” he breathed, almost afraid to move.

And that was all she needed to let it bleed.

Not a scream, not anger, just truth, cutting, clean, honest. The kind of truth that struck like lightning and still tasted like honey.

“You broke my heart, Hayden,” she said, her voice trembling but steady. “You shattered it. And not all at once. Not loudly. You did it slowly. Quietly. With every look you didn’t give me, with every word you didn’t say, with every time you chose fear over me, with every time you said half the truth and left the rest buried in your chest.”

His throat tightened, but he didn’t speak because she needed to say this. He needed her to say it.

“But the worst part?” she said, taking a step closer, voice trembling with the kind of love that never left even when it should have. “I kept being in love with you, through all of it, even when it hurt. I kept being in love with you when you left. I kept being in love with you in the quiet. I was still in love with you even when I hated myself for it, even when I told myself to move on.”

Every word from her lips hit him like scripture. Like prophecy. Like truth. He took them in like they were breath and his lungs were on fire.

“I waited and waited, smiling through it.” Her voice cracked, barely. “Telling myself it didn’t matter. That the series was enough. That my work would be enough. But it wasn’t. You were supposed to be enough too.”

He tried to speak, she raised a finger, silencing him like a queen.

“And don’t you dare show up here, in the house, in the place you look like you belong in, just to tell me all the things I begged to hear months ago. Don’t you dare to say all that if you’re not ready to stay.”

A tear fell, glowing silver on her cheek.

“But,” she breathed, voice faltering, just a note, then rising again like a crescendo, “if you mean it, if you’re here, not to borrow me but to choose me, then yes. There’s a chance.”

Her arms dropped and stepped forward then. Just one step. But it was everything.

“I still want it all. The breakfasts. The arguments about which movie to watch. The inside jokes. The midnights watching storms. The faint cigarette smoke on my clothes. The laughing until I can’t breathe. The way your hand finds mine without looking. I want all of it, mundane and the extraordinary.”

Another tiny step closer, her hand founding the front of his shirt.

“But I’m not giving you pieces of me this time, Hayden,” she said, looking straight into him. “It’s everything. Or it’s nothing at all.”

“Everything,” he breathed out, somehow.

She nodded and grabbed his collar, pulling him down into her like gravity was a myth.

And the kiss?

God.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a collapse, a wildfire. The moment when the orchestra explodes and everything the story has been building toward finally hits.

It was messy and wild and impossibly right. It was months of longing and regret and aching hope, poured into mouths that had waited too long.

Her hands tangled in his curls, pulling, grounding, owning him. His hands were everywhere, her waist, her back, the curve of her jaw, like he was trying to memorize every inch he'd lost, like she might vanish again if he wasn’t careful.

She tasted like tears and relief and forever.

And he kissed her like he was dying and she was breath. Like he knew every second they’d been apart and wasn’t wasting a single one more. Like he had been dead, hollow, since July and a kiss, not any kiss, her kiss, brought him back to life. Like she restarted his heart and somehow, she did.

Their bodies molded, their hearts crashed. It was too much and still not enough.

She clung to him like he was the anchor and the storm, arms wrapped around his middle, fists curling into his shirt, anchoring herself like she belonged there, because she did. And he held her like she was the place all the compasses had been pointing to, gripping her like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

When they broke apart, barely, breathing heavy, foreheads pressed together like a prayer, she whispered:

“Don’t leave again.”

And he didn’t even hesitate.

His voice was steady, full of wonder and worship and the kind of love you only admit once you’ve nearly lost it all.

“Not unless it’s with you.”

And right then, under the porchlight, they stopped being an almost and became the always.

The morning light spilled like melted gold across her bedroom, stretching over linen sheets, dipping into the soft curve of her neck where her head rested on his chest.

Hayden lay still, one arm around her back, the other resting loosely on her thigh where her leg tangled with his, her bare foot resting against his calf. Her breath rose and fell against him in even rhythms, like the tide.

Familiar. Soothing. Home.

He wasn’t sure what woke him first, her warmth or the way his heart felt like it had finally stopped holding its breath.

He tilted his head, slowly, carefully, and brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. His fingers were gentle, reverent. She looked like something out of a dream he never wanted to wake from. He could’ve stayed there forever, watching the sunlight kiss her cheeks, memorizing the softness of her lips, the flutter of her lashes.

He could have, but he had a better idea.

Pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, he whispered, “Back soon,” though she was too deep in sleep to hear.

And then he slipped quietly out of bed.

When she woke, the scent of him still clinging to the pillow beside her, on her skin, in the room, and a smile appeared on her lips. But she didn’t feel him and her sleep-heavy brain whispered that she’d imagined it, that last night had been a dream, one of the ones she never dared to hope for.

But then, she opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the warm light, and reached to the other side of the bed and it was still warm and the sound of soft clinks and muffled humming drifted in from the kitchen.

She sat up slowly, blinking sleep from her eyes, hair wild from the night, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. Barefoot, she padded toward the kitchen, the cool floor grounding her as she rounded the corner.

And then she saw him.

Hayden. Barefoot too, in the hoodie that was his but she never gave back, sleeves pushed up as he stood at the stove, humming lowly to himself while he scrambled eggs and coffee brewing while toast popping.

Sunlight poured across the floor like it was showing off for him. As if it was leading her to him.

Her knees buckled a little and a smile stretched wide across her face, slow and stunned.

She walked toward him, slow and light, and slipped her hands under his hoodie from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist, cheek pressed to the warm curve of his back.

“Morning,” she murmured.

He hissed softly at the cold of her fingers. “Jesus,” he laughed, hand instinctively finding hers, warm and steady. “Morning, sunshine.”

“Whatcha doing?” she asked, peeking around his arm.

“Breakfast,” he hummed, as if it were obvious, as if it weren’t the single most romantic thing she’d ever witnessed at 7AM.

Giving him a light kiss on his back, she climbed onto the counter, legs swinging lightly as she watched him move, comfortable and easy like they’d always been this way.

He turned back to the eggs, but her presence kept tugging at his attention. She looked too cute there, hair messy, hoodie swallowing her whole, eyes sleepy and still full of love. So damn dreamlike that in between buttering toast, he leaned in and almost stole a kiss.

But before his lips could meet hers, her eyes flew wide and she jerked her head back. “No!”

He blinked, stunned. “What—?”

“I didn’t brush my teeth!” she cried, already hopping down from the counter like a woman on a mission.

And with that, she bolted down the hall, bare feet thumping against the floor, disappearing toward the bathroom.

Hayden laughed, really laughed, head back, shaking his head like she’d just told the best joke of his life. He couldn’t have given a bigger damn about morning breath or bed hair. She was her. She was his. And that was all that mattered.

A few minutes later, she padded back into the kitchen, lips freshly minty, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands and hair tied in a half bun.

She tried to walk past him on her way back to the counter, but his hand found the back of her neck as she passed, warm and firm.

He tugged gently. “Now give me my kiss,” he said, voice husky with sleep and something deeper. Something that made stars appear in her eyes and her knees falter a little. “Please,” he added, caressing her nose with the tip of his.

She leaned in and he met her halfway.

This time, it was slow. Sure. Devastating.

He kissed her like a man who had every intention of doing this every morning for the rest of his life. His hands cradled her face, guiding her, owning the moment, and she gave in gladly, letting him lead, letting herself fall.

When they broke apart, barely, she tilted her chin up, fingers weaving into his curls like they belonged there. With a breathless smile, she pulled him into a kiss, not urgent, not hungry, but slow and reverent. A kiss laced in sunlight, a kiss that was a promise.

She sighed into his mouth, the softest moan slipping from her lips, something so small and yet it lit every nerve ending in his body on fire. His free hand slid down, steady and sure, wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against him like the only place she was ever meant to be was right there.

They didn’t part when the kiss ended, not truly. Their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the space between them. Her arms stayed looped around his neck, caressing the hairs at the nape of his neck and his hands held her like she was something he’d dreamed into reality.

She was looking up at him, not just with affection, but with awe too, like he was something celestial, like she couldn’t believe he was real.

He exhaled slowly and lifted one hand to her face, and with a kind of touch that could only be born from deep, aching love, he traced her features.

The soft arc of her brow, the curve of her nose, the swell of her lips, still pink from him, and she let him, totally entranced.

Her face rested in the cradle of his hands, her eyes sparkled, lips curved into the faintest smile as if the joy inside her was too big to stay hidden but too sacred to shout and he couldn’t stop smiling too

“What?” he whispered, like anything louder might shatter the spell.

Her lashes fluttered. “I’m mentally recording this moment.”

His chest stuttered. His heart roared.

“Are you…” he swallowed, breath catching, “utterly, incandescently happy?”

She just nodded, slowly, surely, and smiled so impossibly wide that it made the corners of her eyes scrunch, made his knees go weak, made every regret he'd ever known disappear like morning mist.

“Good,” he breathed, voice catching in his throat. “Me too.”

Then he leaned in and kissed her again, softly and sweetly. Like a prayer answered. Like they had all the time in the world and he would spend every second kissing her just like that.

When they parted, their foreheads still touched, she leaned into his palm. Her eyes closed, feeling peaceful and full.

And he could not stop looking at her, and didn't want to stop either. He let his eyes memorize her all over again.

The way the morning light kissed her skin. The baby hairs that curled against her temple. The way her breath caught when he brushed his thumb beneath her eye. The way her lips curved, still tingling from his. The way she looked, so radiant, so his, in the quiet haven of their morning.

He memorized every single detail all over again, because he knew that after losing her once, he’d never survive it again, he was never letting go again. And more to his satisfaction, she didn’t want to let go either, she was happy right where she was, in his arms.

Next Part →

TAGLIST: @frommywindow17 // @lillianacristina // @shyartisanvoidwagon // @watersquirtpewpewboomm // @yomommaandyogranny // @shqwqrma // @florence-vikander // @bryjohn98 // @its-sappho-biotch // @mysardencut // @fan-goddess // @weallhaveadestiny // @hueanhdang // @ittybitty-rt // @fromasgardandback // @mmb-09 // @elisamoons // @harryisacuties // @little-diable // @angie2274 // @fallinlovewithevil // @mrsmikaelsxn // @naginithemage // @maleahcastro3 // @gwendolyngonzalez // @drawingdroid // @darkestnite // @ooostarwarsfandom501st // @lonelywitchv2 // @chixnugg22 // @moni-cah // @hesvoid34 // @princessvader15 // @nevess // @ilovenarrystoran4ever // @mecrazybish // @blueeyedbesson // @syko-juice // @thetinylittlebird // @b4b3tte // @lily-strnlo // @leahdrads // @niclove // @bloatedandalone04 // @dream-this-nightmare-overnightmareover // @lonelyreadergirl // @sweetcheesecakesblog // @risas-bajo-el-arcoiris // @xangelicangel // @hannis93 // @vikilinda // @ohamilton614 // @tiffsbagels // @nutellanja // @myede // @dessxoxsworld // @kollover24 // @freyagallileaevans // @nostappenn // @tammyjackson50-blog // @4-everm-0-re // @qualitynerdbouquetstuff // @tired-ass-show-girl

#Hayden Christensen #Hayden Christensen x reader #Hayden Christensen x you #Hayden Christensen x y/n #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker imagines #director!reader

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pencilofawesomeness · 6 hours ago

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Danny blamed the new environment for his forgetfulness. Getting used to university life was a lot, and getting used to Gotham was even more. Danny liked to think he handled it well, and Gotham with her perpetual musty ectoplasm grew on him quicker than he imagined, but he could only allocate so much brainpower to this stuff, and that meant that the passage of time evaded him, and so did his Death Day. Whoops.

Granted, he didn’t have the familiar ghosts of Amity clearing out in a polite gesture or even hovering nearby to help alleviate the symptoms. Death days were touchy subjects and private moments; it went unspoken not to heckle each other on those days.

Nobody here knew his Death Day in advance, of course. Aside from this being his first year, he wasn’t part of the community yet, even though he was quickly becoming respected by reputation and might. (There weren’t even as many fully realized Realms ghosts around anyway.) However, when Danny ducked into an alley to ride out the phantom (ha) pains of being electrocuted for the fourth time in his life, halfway through he became distantly aware of another ectobeing hovering over him, solid and comforting hands on his shoulders. It must have been obvious to a spectral passerby what was happening. Back in Amity, or in the depths of the Realms, no stranger would approach without implicit permission, but etiquette was different in Gotham. He was still learning, but ghosts tended to be even more brazen—for good or bad. This one hadn’t done anything yet, so Danny doubted they would. He simply let it be and resolved to cringe over it later.

With the realization he wasn’t alone, the delirium started to fade, slowly but surely. That was worse than the pain, in Danny’s opinion. The pain fucking sucked, and he hated the way his body spasmed, but he was used to all manner of injury. It wasn’t as jarring anymore.

Danny heaved for breath, belatedly realizing he shot himself in the foot by having this episode in living form. What a fucking idiot. Granted, he was already an idiot for spending today anywhere but his bed. Or maybe in the Far Frozen. Ah, well, the worst of it was over and Danny would endeavor to do better next year. (And the next year. And the next. And the next.) That was all there was to it, now.

“I can’t believe I gotta go through that every year,” Danny bemoaned with a weak chuckle. His throat rasped. Had he screamed this year? Ancients he hoped not. He couldn’t decide if that would be more or less embarrassing in front of a stranger—although one who might be a neighbor. Gotham ghosts didn’t like wandering far from their haunt or person of interest, even though the city itself was one massive territory thanks to the city spirit. Okay, yeah, Danny settled on being embarrassed.

His companion stiffened, pulling back as Danny tried to straighten himself, rubbing and blinking the annoying black spots from his eyes from the fake-electrocution.

“Kid?” a tight, deep voice questioned. “You with me?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s over,” Danny assured. “Mine is at least quick.” He leaned back and finally got a good look at the guy who decided to keep him company. He reminded Danny a little of himself, tall and dark haired, except with broader shoulders. Very… solid broad shoulders…

Shit, wait. Was this guy alive?!

Danny miscalculated. Another gigantic L for today. Fantastic.

“Sure, sure,” mysterious living guy muttered, before scrutinizing him with a crease of worry. “How many fingers am I holding up? What was the last thing you remember?”

“Three, and uh… I remember walking back here. Yeah.” What was he supposed to say? This was suddenly not a safe place, even though the guy didn’t seem predatory in the classic Gotham fashion. Just concerned. That almost made it worse, because Danny couldn’t bail on that.

The man dragged a hand down his face with a ragged huff. “Shit, kid, I thought you were about to OD from heroin, or something, but you’re suddenly lucid. What the fuck was that? And don’t bother lying. No cops are going to be involved.”

Oh. Ohhhhh. This guy must have seen Danny twitching and delirious. In a dirty alley. In Gotham. The least favorite part of Gotham for the living, in fact, called “Crime Alley” in a stunning display of creativity. Of course he must have thought it was something like that.

If Danny was smart, he would roll with it. Maybe make up some BS about trying mushrooms for the first time and use it to skedaddle away. However, as established for the day, Danny was a fucking idiot, so instead he opened his big, unfiltered, idiotic mouth and blurted, “Overdosing looks like being electrocuted?”

“...what?”

Good job, Danny. “What?” he parroted dumbly. Now would be a good time to slide into the earth and become one with the Gunk of Gotham.

Wait. Wait. He might be near the infamous ectoplasmic Sewer Slide but he hadn’t mistaken the pulse of a core, weak though it was. This guy was solid and breathing but he was ecto-tainted enough to be more than just tainted. He still very much was an ecto-being, surely, so Danny actually hadn’t messed up. As much.

While the guy was busy gaping at him incredulously, Danny scrutinized him back, reaching out with his core experimentally. A weak and sludgy thing pinged back, clearly surprising the guy. Okay, so that was a dirty, tiny core. Not a full one. The guy was more alive than Danny was, in the sense that his core was more of an accessory than a core. It was on the tip of his tongue. If Frostbite showed up right now with an ecto-being pop quiz, he would fail it right now. Though this had to be a rare one, in his defense.

Well, whatever he was, the state of his ectoplasm was sad and rancid. Poor guy.

“What are you even on right now?” said poor guy asked, leaning back with a sort of battle-ready wariness Danny recognized in a lot of Gothamites, spectre or not. However, his sad little core pulsed in time with Danny’s, hungry and desperate. Has he ever had any good ectoplasm? Sheesh.

Unless. Maybe this guy was like those sad shades or blobs that got perpetually stuck in the Gunk and had rotten cores for it. This guy didn’t seem too far gone though. Or like he was unable to physically leave the Sewer Slide. Still, he clearly had to ask for a reason.

Ah, fuck it. Even if Danny wanted to crawl under his covers and still his jittery nerves, he couldn’t leave this guy hanging. Especially after he tried to help Danny, despite being very wrong about it.

“I can get you to some ectoplasm,” Danny promised. “The good stuff. It’ll take some time, but it’ll fix all… that.” He smiled in good humor, gesturing vaguely to his core. “And your earlier offer extends to me as well. No cops involved. As you can tell now, I’m more like you than you think.” He paused awkwardly. “And definitely not overdosing on anything. But thanks for checking.”

The guy—a revenant, maybe, or some other undead or something—narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Carefully. Well, if he thought there was a catch—or if he could eat Danny—then he was sorely mistaken. Danny understood what it was like to be a clueless baby ecto-being, so he wouldn’t mess around with this, coming down from a death echo or not.

“Sure,” the guy finally said. “Show me where you got this… ectoplasm.”

DpxDc #17

What a (death) day.

Jason was going to kill whoever was selling drugs to kids in the alley.

The boy on the ground was shaking, barely breathing, and coughing up blood. The poor guy was coming down from a seizure, almost suffocating on his own spit.

Luckily, Jason saw him on time and was able to help put him in a safe position. He almost had a heart attack seeing a kid having an overdose in a lonely alley.

He rubbed the kid's back, trying to stimulate breathing, begging internally for his heart to keep beating.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

The black-haired teenager kept mumbling between breaths, muscles twitching like a dying bug.

Jason could only try and help as much as he could. He wasn't going to call an ambulance, since unfortunately, there was a high chance that his call was going to be rejected due to the location and nature of the emergency.

Drug overdose was too common; they would tell you to make sure they don't choke and hang up on you.

"I'm sorry..."

"Shh... It's alright, you're going to be okay..."

What a shitty, shitty day.

It hit him like a truck, the pain in his chest.

He was just walking back to his hotel room after visiting Gotham University, when it started.

Danny compleatly fucking forgot about his death day.

He was able to drag himself into an empty alley, trying not to die of embarrassment as he was starting to feel his arm tingle.

This was going to suck.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp death day #jason todd #my hand slipped I added to another prompt #both danny and jason: “man this guy needs a doctor”#danny definitely thought they were on the same page after the echo core location but NOPE #now Jason definitely thinks that “ectoplasm” is a new drug #jokes on him he's about to get infodumped by a guy still walking off the jitters #danny is way too good at ignoring the horrors

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ariesthetouchdeprivedgirl · 2 days ago

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Behind Closed Doors

Smoke x Black!OC

I am #FINALLY done with this little story.. It only took a couple of days lol. I am very excited, and nervous, but overall happy to share this lil story. It’s definitely a small bit of mischaracterization as I believe Smoke is reallll good man, but I don’t know.. Something about this story, and this idea just gives me that 🫦. lollll… anyways. I hope yall enjoy, and I will greatly appreciate any feedback!!

Jane sat at her vanity, admiring the pearl necklace that sat almost perfectly on her dark skin. She tilted her head, a small satisfying smile gracing her lips.

Smoke had gifted it to her around six months ago, a spontaneous reveal made her swoon.

After a night of passion, Jane expected smoke’s side of the bed to be cold and empty. Instead, to her surprise, resting on his pillow was a black velvet box.

When Smoke came back that night she was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him, box in hand. He walked through the door, his faint and familiar scent of tobacco cutting through the air, instantly flooding her senses.

His eyes found Jane immediately, the light above the stove casting soft shadows over her face. Moonlight slipping through the blinds highlighting the gift he left for her.

“You ain’t like it” he asked, peeling off his hat and coat, and throwing it over a chair before he moved over to the bar.

“No” she said her voice soft but steady.

He cut his gaze to her as he poured his whiskey. “I love it” she held a knowing smile, a hint of mischief in her words.

She rose from the table and walked to him, affectionate eyes locked on his. “I want you to put it on me” her gentle hand placing the box in his rough hold.

Smoke did as she wanted, clamping the pearl necklace around her neck, calloused hands contrasting with her delicate skin.

Jane faced him again, fingertips ghosting over the cool pearls, before she looked up at him.

“How does it look?”

Smokes eyes dragged over her, lingering at the swell of her breast beneath the silk fabric of her nightgown.

“Looks good baby” he sipped on his whiskey, leaning against the counter.

Jane stepped closer, pressing her body against his and draping her arms around his neck.

“Thank you daddy” she pressed a gentle kiss around his lips. He grunted a “mhm” as he watched her with intense eyes.

Her lips curved into a teasing smile, “I just wanna show you how thankful I am” her whispered voice dripped with promise.

Smoke, amused sat his drink on the counter and wrapped his hands around her waist.

“Mhm, and how you gon do that baby?”

Jane’s face grew warm as she reminisced on the memory. It was restless and intense, they couldn’t seem to get enough of each other that night.

The sound of the telephone ringing broke her from her train of thought. She jumped up excitedly, expecting to hear Smoke’s voice. He was probably gonna tell her he was on the way, or that he’d be a little late. But it wasn’t him. instead Jane recognized the voice of her friend and coworker, Bernice.

“Hello?”

“Hey Jane..”

“Bernice? Hey, what’s up?”

“Is anyone else around?”

Jane furrowed her eyebrows. “Um, no. It’s just me.”

Jane heard Bernice exhale on the other end of the line. A real long and uneasy breath that put Jane on edge.

“Okay good, cause I got something to tell you.”

“It’s about your man”

Jane’s stomach dropped. The warmth she held from her earlier thoughts completely vanishing.

What did Bernice’s messy ass know about Smoke that she didn’t?

“I was at the club last night, with Terrance, and I saw Smoke.”

Jane sat silently. Smoke didn’t come by last night, said he had things to handle, or whatever, she learned not to ask.

“And he wasn’t there alone”

Jane zeroed in on Bernice’s voice. It felt like she couldn’t see, think, hear, or breathe anything in other than Bernice’s words.

He wasn’t alone..?

Then who was he with?

Was it Annie?

“You there Jane?” Bernice asked.

“Yea.. Yea I’m still here Bernice.”

“Okay good. But yeah like I was saying, I was with Terrance when I saw Smoke, with some woman. And from the looks of it they seemed to know each other pretty well”

Jane was about to ask to for a description but stopped herself. What would be the point? She ain’t know what Annie look like anyway.

“They were sitting in front of us, and girl. he ain’t even have no shame, looked me dead in my eyes and ain’t say a thing!” Bernice exclaimed.

“I walked past their table a couple of times, you know tryna see who the girl was, and I noticed, ain’t nann one of em had a ring on they finger!”

Jane’s stomach churned. Smoke never wore his ring around Jane, at least when they were at home.

When he came to her job, sure, it was on. But once they were alone it was tucked away in his coat pocket.

So who was the other woman? And why was she so upset, as if she wasn’t already the other woman.

“They was all over each other girl, I mean the man was cheesing all in her face. And I don’t know about you, but shit I never seen such a sight before.” Bernice kept gossiping , as if Jane wasn’t losing her mind on the other end of the line.

She continue talking about whatever else her and Terrance had seen at the club, but it was all background noise to Jane. Her mind overcome by thoughts of Smoke and some other woman.

“Bernice, I gotta go, I’ll see you at work” Jane said, seconds away from hanging up the phone.

“Wait Jane, I just.. You okay?” she asked.

Jane wanted to scoff. Of course she wasn’t okay. But there was no reason to be mad at Bernice. She had given her a glimpse into the man she thought she knew.

“Yeah I’m good” Jane lied through her teeth.

Bernice sighed, “I just want you to be happy Jane, and that man.. he just ain’t no good.”

“Obviously Bernice” Jane thought to herself.

She was his mistress for crying out loud. She knew exactly how ‘not good’ Smoke was. If he were a good man they wouldn’t be involved with each other in the first place.

“Okay Bernice, imma go now, thanks for calling”

“Okay girl, let me know if you need anything”

“Mhm I will”

And with that, Jane slammed the telephone against the wall, the sharp chatter echoing through her empty apartment.

Jane’s mind was racing a million miles per hour. So many questions, so many feelings, all of it just crashing into her at once. Was she really that naive, to think she was the only one. Her pulse throbbed in her throat, and she felt a faint pang of pain in her chest.

She stumbled to the bathroom, convinced she was going to be sick. But her reflection in the mirror stopped her in her tracks. The pearls gleaming under the harsh bathroom light. The weight of it suddenly felt heavier, and they began to sting against her chest.

A beautiful, yet painful reminder him.

Of them.

Jane stared at herself for a moment. She ran her fingers over the necklace, the cool pearls began to feel suffocating. She considered yanking them off. So she could watch them scatter against the floor in the same manner that her thoughts were. But something in her resisted.

Maybe it was that foolish part of her that believed the lie they had built together was still strong. Shit they built it together, they were.. they are together.

With a shaky exhale Jane turned away from the mirror. Flicking the light off as she walked to her bedroom. She didn’t bother changing out of her slip, not even thinking to take the pearls off. They now rested on her skin as a bitter kiss.

She sank into the sheets, the scent of Smoke calming her just as much as it pained her. The ache in her chest making her force her eyes shut, hoping to sleep the pain away, and forget everything she just heard.

About an hour after midnight Smoke let himself into the apartment. Tired from the streets he figured he’d spend some time with Jane before heading home. The faint smell of the candles Jane loved to burned flowed through the air.

And the light from them made Jane glow. He saw her, sitting in the middle of the bed. Her fingers absently playing with the pearls around her neck. She didn’t even look up at him, either too lost in thought, or too exhausted to care about who walked in.

Smoke watched her for a long moment, before he slowly walked into the room. His footsteps heavy against the wooden floors. Yet, Jane still hadn’t acknowledged him.

“Baby” his deep voice rung out.

Jane slowly lifted her head, eyes glassy and filled with emotion. But her expression was unreadable. Smoke took a quick scan around the room before his eyes landed on her again. A small twitch at the corner of her mouth catching his attention before she spoke.

“Hi Smoke” her light voice let out, a forced smile on her lips.

A frown settled on Smoke’s face. He didn’t like not knowing what was going on, and something about Jane felt.. off.

“Whats up?” he questioned her with narrow eyes.

“Hmm?” She tilted her head, a hint of faux confusion in her eyes. “I just missed you baby, that’s all.” She walked over to him, she laid her hands on his chest, her fingers tracing the fabric of his shirt.

“Where you coming from” she questioned, her eyes watched his face intensely for any sign of guilt, or surprise.

But his expression remained impassive, he was still his stoic and unreadable self.

“Work” he muttered, brushing past her into the bedroom. He started getting comfortable, shrugging his coat off, throwing that and his hat on her vanity’s chair. He sat his shoes in the corner, and began working on his cufflinks.

“You ain’t cook nothing” he cut his gaze to her.

“No, but I can” she said leaning doorway, her arms crossed loosely.

Smokes eyes lingered on her, watching the way her jaw clinched, ever so lightly, and noticing the tension in her posture. “So you ain’t eat nothing, that’s why you looking frail”

Jane’s expression faltered for a split second. Eyebrows furrowing a small unsteady breath leaving her lips.

She cleared her throat, “what you mean baby, I’m the same size I was last time you saw me” she forced that tight, unconvincing smile again.

Smoke’s jaw tightened. Something was off and he knew that she knew he knew.

He pulled his dress shirt off, tossing it in the hamper, leaving him in his undershirt and slacks.

“I’m staying over tonight” he said, vision fixed on her.

Jane’s eyes widened, “What?”

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “You don’t want me to?”

“No it’s just—i didn’t expect it.. that’s all” she straightened up, a fake ass brightness as she walked towards him. “I’m happy you’re staying.”

She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his. Her warmth seeping through his shirt. He placed his hand on the small of her back, his other hand reaching up to her neck, toying with her pearls.

He felt her breath hitch.

Smoke’s grip tightened around her neck, forcing her to look up at him. “What is it?”

She blinked, eyes wide with surprise. “What’s what?”

Smoke’s eyes hardened as he stared at her. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

Jane’s lips curved into a small pout, her eyes softened, trying you disarm him. “I’m not baby.” She reached up, handing cradling his face, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks like she always did. “I keep saying I missed you, it’s been a few days now” she threw in a small laugh for good measure.

Smoke’s jaw flexed, searching her face for any sign of a lie.

“Want me to run you a bath?” She offered a little too eagerly. “I’ll cook something while you wash up” she tried to pull back but he held her in her place, his grip firm and unmoving.

Panic flashed across her face, she tried to conceal it but he noticed.

“Nah” his voice gravely, “stay right here.” He let her go and walked out the room.

Smoke did a quick sweep of the apartment, looking closely at every shadow and corner. but he found nothing.

On his way to the bedroom, his eyes caught the telephone, still hanging from the cradle. Smoke started to connect the dots.

“Come here Jane”

She hesitated, his voice was firm, but it was a little too calm. Jane’s heart pounded in her chest as she forced her legs to walk to Smoke.

Smoke’s eyes flickered to the phone, then back to her.

“You broke the phone?”

She smiled, forcing a short nervous laugh, “It was an accident, i’m sorry.” She tried to casually wave it off.

Smoke didn’t blink, eyes boring into her.

“Who called you?”

Jane cleared her throat, smile wavering a bit, “oh it was just Bernice”

Smoke tilted his head, “what she say to get you to break the damn phone?”

Jane felt her throat tighten. “She was just gossiping, you know how she gets.”

“Gossiping about what”

Jane looked away from his gaze, eyes darting to the kitchen.

“Oh.. nothing” she smiled at him, before walking to the kitchen.

“You want some breakfast, you know I don’t keep much in this fridge” she forced a weak, hollow sound that was supposed to be a laugh.

“What she tell you Jane?” He asked as she lit the stove up.

Jane froze there for a moment, watching the blue flames come to life. Her pulse thundering in her ears.

“Jane” he snapped her out of her daze with his rough voice.

She blinked. “It was nothing Smoke, just girl drama”, her words quick and rehearsed as she grabbed a pan from the cupboard.

Smoke didn’t move, his gaze never left her, he still didn’t believe her. He stepped closer, his presence starting to overwhelm her. “Girl drama? You acting strange over some girl drama. You sure?”

She nodded her head, not looking at him. “Yeah baby, just some gossip. Nothing to worry about”

Her hands trembled as she adjusted the pan on the stove top, tears starting to flood her vision.

Smoke took another step closer, “you know I don’t like that lying shit. Especially about something so simple” he spoke, tone dangerously low.

Jane still kept her head down, watching the stove. “Nothings goin on Smoke, I promise” she whispered, trying to convince herself.

Smoke didn’t move, and she felt the heat of his gaze pouring into her, but she didn’t move either.

“You gon keep lying”

The question hung in the air for what seemed like forever. As each second stretched she fought to keep her composure.

“Nobody’s lying to you smoke” her shaky voice said, barely above a whisper. She felt a sob rising in her throat, but she wasn’t willing to let it out.

Smoke stood there, and let her look at the pan she found so interesting all of a sudden. He placed a gentle hand on the nape of her neck. Jane felt her stomach tighten.

He rubbed it softly, thumb stroking her skin. “Look at me” he whispered what seemed like a command and a plea.

Jane squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to spill.

“Baby” he said in that smooth voice that always relaxed her. He pressed closer to her, hand laying flat on her stomach.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, the weight of the pearls and his hand moving to her neck slowly bringing her to her demise.

“What’d she tell you” he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Fingers tracing the line of her jaw.

Jane slowly lifted her head, meeting his gaze. He tried to read her face, trying to find any crack, any sign of the truth. They stared at each other for a second before her breath hitched and a sob broke free.

Jane quickly turned her body to bury her face into smoke’s chest. Her sobs weren’t loud or dramatic, instead raw and broken.

Smoke stilled for a moment before wrapping his arms around her, rubbing her back in slow steady circles. Hoping to calm her down. And for a while, he didn’t speak, he just held her. Letting her drench his shirt in tears.

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