#and try out different angles/distances

[topaz-carbuncle]

[sirpeppersto]

also i just kinda realized the absurdity of me having 430 hours in project diva future tone. theres no story mode. theres no online mode. only 250 songs. no end of the game and not many achievements. i unlocked all items at around 150 hours(i forgot i had a bunch of vp saved up and bought almost everything at once). just in it for the love of the game.

[elswhore]

۫ ꣑ৎ . you, the daughter of a powerful man who owns the city, navigate a growing, intense attraction with ellie, a new hire tasked with cleaning your family's mansion.

mdni. class difference. older ellie. rough sex. fingering. face sitting. unrequited feelings. forbidden attraction.

you lean against the polished mahogany railing of the staircase, your fingers tracing the intricate carvings absentmindedly.

from your vantage point, you can see ellie moving through the foyer below, her movements, trying not to disturb the space she occupies.

the new hire.

the cleaner.

her auburn hair is tied back in a messy bun, a few strands slipping free to frame her face as she kneels to scrub the marble floor.

she’s thorough, focused, but every now and then, her eyes flick upward toward you.

it’s not the first time you’ve caught her staring.

yesterday, when you passed her in the hallway, her gaze lingered just a fraction too long, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

today, it’s bolder.

her green eyes hold yours for a heartbeat longer than they should, sharp and searching, before she ducks her head back to her work.

your stomach tightens, a slow coil of heat you can’t quite name.

you shift your weight, the floor creaking faintly beneath your boots, and her head snaps up again.

this time, she doesn’t look away.

the rag in her hand stills, forgotten, as her eyes trace the lines of your figure.

there’s something raw in her expression, something that makes your pulse quicken.

you could call her out, demand to know why she’s looking at you like that, but you don’t.

you let the silence stretch, let the weight of her stare settle into your bones.

she stands slowly, wiping her hands on her jeans, leaving faint smudges of soap suds.

the distance between you feels charged, like the air before a storm.

you’re the daughter of the man who owns this city, everyone in town knows your name, your face, your power.

people don’t look at you like this.

not with such unguarded intensity.

but ellie does.

and it’s unraveling you in ways you didn’t expect.

you take a step down the stairs, your movements deliberate, testing the waters.

her eyes follow you, unwavering, though her jaw tightens slightly, like she’s bracing herself.

you pause, one hand resting on the banister, your body angled toward her.

the space between you is still vast, but it feels like nothing at all.

you can see the faint flush creeping up her neck, the way her fingers flex at her sides, like she’s fighting the urge to move closer.

or maybe to run.

“ellien” you say, your voice low, testing the sound of her name on your tongue.

it’s the first time you’ve spoken to her directly, and her reaction is immediate, her breath catches, her shoulders stiffen, but her eyes don’t leave yours.

they’re darker, pupils wide, and you swear you can see the pulse jumping at the base of her throat.

“yes, ma’am?” her voice is rougher than you expected, a little husky, and the formal address lands strangely, like it doesn’t belong in this moment.

it’s polite, deferential, but there’s an edge to it, a challenge hidden in the way she says it.

like she knows you’re untouchable, but she’s daring to push anyway.

you don’t answer right away.

instead, you tilt your head, letting your gaze roam over her, her faint scar cutting through her eyebrow, the freckles scattered across her nose.

she shifts under your scrutiny, but she doesn’t break eye contact.

the tension is a living thing now, coiling tighter with every second that passes.

you could step closer.

you could tell her to get back to work.

you could do anything, and she’d have to listen, because of who you are, because of the power your name carries.

but that’s not what you want.

not really.

the grandfather clock in the corner ticks loudly, each second stretching the moment thinner.

ellie’s lips part again, and for a fleeting second, you think she might say something to break the silence.

but she doesn’t.

she just watches you, waiting, her eyes burning with something you can’t quite decipher but can’t look away from either.

you take another step down.

the gap between you shrinks, and the air feels hotter, heavier, like it’s pressing against your skin.

her fingers twitch, and you wonder what it would feel like if she reached out, if she closed the distance.

you wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.

the tension snaps like a taut string when your father’s voice booms through the house, warm and commanding.

“little doll! im off to work, come see me!” his words echo up the staircase, pulling you out of the charged moment with ellie.

your head turns instinctively toward the sound, but before you move, you glance back at her.

ellie’s still standing there, rag clutched loosely in her hand, her eyes locked on you.

the intensity in her gaze hasn’t faltered, but theres a flicker of disappointment, maybe, or frustration, like she knows this moment is slipping away.

her lips press into a thin line, and for a split second, you think she might step forward, say something, anything, to hold onto whatever this is.

but she doesn’t.

she just watches, her chest rising and falling a little too quickly, the flush on her neck still betraying her.

you hold her stare for a beat longer than you should, your own pulse hammering in your ears.

there’s a pull in your chest, an urge to stay, to see how far this unspoken thing can go.

but your father’s voice lingers, a reminder of who you are, of the world you belong to.

you turn away, the motion feeling heavier than it should, and start down the rest of the stairs.

your fingers tighten around the banister, grounding yourself as you cross the foyer, your polished shoes clicking against the marble.

your father’s waiting in the grand entryway, his tailored coat draped over one arm, his briefcase in hand.

he’s a towering figure, the man who owns this city, his presence filling the room with effortless authority.

his smile is wide and fond as he sees you approach, oblivious to the storm of tension you’re leaving behind.

“there’s my girl.” he says, pulling you into a quick, familiar hug.

“ill be gone a week this time, business in the capital, keep things in order here, yeah?” you nod, forcing a smile.

your father’s driver opens the door, and he’s gone in a flurry of instructions and the clink of his watch against his cufflinks.

a huff escapes your lips, the sound swallowed by the vast emptiness of the estate.

the loneliness creeps in, familiar and heavy, settling into your bones like the chill of the early morning.

he’s gone for a week, and while that should feel like freedom, it only amplifies the quiet, the way the house seems to hold its breath without him.

you pull your blazer tighter around you, the fabric doing little to ward off the feeling, and turn back inside.

the heavy door shuts behind you with a soft thud, the warmth of the foyer wrapping around you but doing nothing to thaw the restlessness stirring in your chest.

you pause, your eyes sweeping the space, and there she is ellie, standing near the base of the staircase, her cleaning supplies neatly packed away in a bucket at her feet.

she’s done for the morning, it seems, her flannel sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing the faint outline of a tattoo peeking out from under the fabric.

her auburn hair is still tied back, but a few more strands have slipped free, catching the light filtering through the tall windows.

she doesn’t notice you at first, her head tilted slightly as she wipes her hands on a rag, her movements slow and methodical.

the sight of her, so at ease in a space that feels too big for you today, pulls you toward her almost against your will.

the boredom, the loneliness, the lingering heat of her earlier stare, it all collides, pushing you to close the distance.

“ellie.” you say, your voice cutting through the quiet.

her head snaps up, and there it is again, that sharp, searching look in her green eyes, the one that makes your pulse skip.

she straightens, tossing the rag into the bucket, and you catch the faintest flicker of surprise in her expression before it smooths into something neutral, respectful.

“ma’am?” she replies, her voice low and rough, the word carrying that same undercurrent of defiance you heard earlier.

it’s polite, but it feels like she’s testing the boundaries, seeing how you’ll react.

you take a step closer, your boots clicking softly against the marble, and gesture vaguely toward the foyer.

“you’re done already? you’re quick.” she shrugs, a small, almost imperceptible movement, but her eyes don’t leave yours.

“not much to do today, place was already pretty spotless.” there’s a pause, and then, quieter.

“figured i’d get it done before you needed the space.” you nod, but the silence that follows feels too heavy, too loaded.

the boredom gnaws at you, and the idea of retreating to your study or wandering the empty halls alone is unbearable.

you tilt your head, studying her, the scar on her brow, the freckles dusting her cheeks, the way her hands flex slightly at her sides, like she’s not sure what to do with them now that she’s not working.

she’s older than you, you realize, though you’re not sure by how much.

there’s a steadiness to her, a quiet confidence that feels out of place for someone in her position, and it intrigues you.

“how old are you, ellie?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can overthink it.

it’s a simple enough start, something to break the monotony, to keep her here a little longer.

her brows lift slightly, like she wasn’t expecting you to care about something so mundane.

she shifts her weight, leaning against the banister, and the movement is casual, almost too relaxed for someone speaking to the boss’s daughter.

“twenty-three.” she says, her tone even, but there’s a spark in her eyes, like she’s curious about why you’re asking.

“you?”The question catches you off guard, no one asks you things like that, not so directly.

“nineteen.” she nods, and you swear you see the corner of her mouth twitch, like she’s holding back a smile.

“young to be running a place like this.” she says, her voice careful but laced with teasing.“i don’t run it.”

you say, a little too quickly, your tone sharper than you intended.

“my father does... i just… keep things in order when he’s gone.” her eyes flicker over you, taking your posture, the way you’re standing just a little too stiffly.

“could’ve fooled me.” she murmurs, and the words feel like they carry more weight than they should, like she sees more than you want her to.

the air between you shifts, the tension from earlier creeping back in, slow and deliberate.

you should walk away, go back to your study, let her get back to whatever she does when she’s not working.

but you don’t.

instead, you take another step closer, close enough now that you can see the faint sheen of sweat on her temple, the way her fingers curl slightly, like she’s fighting the urge to reach out or pull back.

“what’s it like?” you ask, your voice softer, conspiratorial.

“Working here, i mean.. in this house..in this town.” her expression shifts, something guarded flickering in her eyes, but she doesn’t look away.

“it’s… quiet..” she says after a moment, her voice low, like she’s choosing her words carefully.

“people don’t talk much, not to me, anyway, but i see things, hear things, your family’s got a lot of eyes on them.”

you feel a jolt, like her words have brushed against something raw.

she’s not wrong, everyone in this city watches you, waits for you to slip, to prove you’re more than just your father’s shadow.

but the way she says it, the way her eyes hold yours, makes you feel exposed in a way you’re not used to. “and what do you see?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it, your voice barely above a whisper.

ellie’s gaze sharpens, and for a moment, you think she might deflect, might retreat into the deference she’s supposed to show.

but instead, she leans in just a fraction, her voice dropping to match yours.

“i see you,” she says, and the words land like a spark on dry tinder.

“not just the fancy clothes or the big house, you’re… different, like you’re waiting for something.” your breath catches, and the space between you feels impossibly small now, charged with something you can’t name but can’t ignore.

her eyes are locked on yours, unflinching, and you feel the weight of her words settle into you, heavy and warm.

you could step back, break the moment, remind her of the lines that separate you.

but you don’t.

you stand there, caught in the pull of her gaze, the loneliness you felt earlier dissolving into something sharper, something that feels dangerously alive.

──────────────────────────────

the second day without your father dawns quieter than the first, the sprawling house still cloaked in that heavy, expectant silence.

you’ve retreated to your art room, a sunlit space tucked away in the east wing, where canvases lean against walls and the air smells faintly of turpentine and dried paint.

it’s one of the few places in the mansion where you feel untethered, where the weight of your last name doesn’t press so hard.

today, you’re trying to paint yourself, a self-portrait, an attempt to capture the restlessness churning inside you.

the canvas stares back, half finished, your features rendered in soft, uncertain strokes.

it’s not right.

it’s not you.

you’re perched on a stool, wearing a loose, sleeveless dress that clings lightly to your frame, the neckline dipping lower than you’d wear in public, the hem riding up your thighs as you shift to adjust your brush.

the fabric feels like a rebellion against the polished blazers and tailored slacks you’re usually seen in, a small act of defiance in this too big house.

you’re so focused on the canvas, on the way the light hits your painted cheekbone, that you don’t hear the door creak open.

“knock knock.” ellie’s voice cuts through the quiet, low and teasing, pulling you out of your thoughts.

you turn, paintbrush still in hand, and there she is, leaning against the doorframe, her flannel unbuttoned at the collar, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

her auburn hair is half loose today, brushing her shoulders, and her green eyes flick from you to the canvas with a spark of curiosity.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumps at her sudden presence.

“didn’t realize you were invited.” you say, but there’s no real bite in your tone.

you’re glad she’s here, even if you won’t admit it.

the boredom has been gnawing at you all morning, and her arrival feels like a gust of fresh air.

“figured I’d check on the boss lady.” she says, stepping into the room, her boots scuffing softly against the hardwood.

“see what you get up to when you’re not giving orders.” her eyes linger on you for a moment, catching the exposed curve of your collarbone, the way the dress hugs your thighs, before she glances at the canvas.

“that you?” you nod, setting the brush down and wiping your hands on a rag, smearing a streak of ochre across your knuckles.

“trying to be, not sure it’s working.” you tilt your head, studying the painting, then look back at her.

“what do you think?” ellie steps closer, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans, and you notice the way her gaze sharpens as she takes in the canvas.

her lips twitch, and for a second, you think she’s going to laugh.

she catches herself, but not fast enough.

a low, stifled chuckle escapes, and she covers her mouth with one hand, her eyes glinting with mischief.

you huff, crossing your arms, the motion pushing your cleavage up slightly, though you don’t notice.

“what’s so funny?” you demand, your voice edged with mock indignation.

“go on, say it.” she shakes her head, still fighting a grin.

“it’s… uh, it’s not bad,” she says, her voice betraying her amusement.

“just… doesn’t look much like you, too stiff, you’re not that…”

she gestures vaguely at the canvas, searching for the right word.

“posed.”

you roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips.

her honesty, blunt and unfiltered, is a stark contrast to the careful deference you’re used to from everyone else.

“fine, artist.” you say, tossing the rag onto the table and leaning back on the stool, your thighs shifting slightly, the dress riding up another inch.

“if you’re so good at it, why don’t you draw me?” ellie’s smirk falters for a split second, her eyes flicking to you, then away, like she’s suddenly aware of the challenge she’s walked into.

“me?” she says, pointing to herself, her voice a little higher than usual.

“draw me, let’s see if you can do better.” she hesitates, her gaze darting to the sketchbook, then back to you.

“alright.” she says, her voice dropping into that low, rough register that sends a shiver through you.

“but don’t blame me if it’s worse.” she crosses the room, picking up the sketchbook and pencil, and pulls a chair over to sit a few feet away, facing you.

you adjust your pose, leaning back slightly, one hand resting on the edge of the stool, the other brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

the dress shifts again, the neckline slipping lower, exposing the soft swell of your cleavage, the hem barely covering the tops of your thighs.

you don’t think much of it, you’re in your own space, after all, but ellie notices.

her eyes flick down, just for a moment, before she forces them back to the sketchbook, her jaw tightening.

she starts to sketch, her pencil moving in quick, precise strokes, but you can tell she’s struggling to focus.

her gaze keeps drifting to you, lingering on the curve of your neck, the exposed skin of your chest, the way your thighs press together as you shift.

each time, she catches herself, her cheeks flushing faintly, and she looks back at the paper, her strokes growing less confident.

“tou okay over there?” you ask, your voice teasing, but there’s a warmth to it, a curiosity you can’t suppress.

tou lean forward slightly, and the motion draws her eyes again, her pencil pausing mid line.

“yeah,” she says, too quickly, clearing her throat.

“just… trying to get the angles right.” but her voice is strained, and you can see the way her fingers grip the pencil a little too tightly, the way her eyes keep betraying her, darting to the soft lines of your body before she yanks them back to the page.

you tilt your head, a slow smile curling your lips as you realize what’s happening.

she’s distracted, undone by the sight of you, and the power of that knowledge sends a thrill through you.

you shift again, deliberately this time, letting one leg cross over the other, the dress riding up just enough to expose more of your thigh.

“take your time.” you say, your voice softer now, almost intimate.

“im not going anywhere.” ellie’s breath hitches, barely audible, and her eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment.

there’s that spark again, that raw, unguarded intensity that makes the air feel too small.

she doesn’t laugh this time.

she doesn’t even try to play it off.

she just stares, her pencil hovering over the sketchbook, and you can feel the tension coiling tighter, a thread stretched to its limit, waiting for one of you to pull it taut or let it snap.

time has slipped away, the minutes stretching into what feels like hours as ellie works, her pencil scratching softly against the sketchbook.

the sound is hypnotic, a quiet rhythm that lulls you into a drowsy haze.

you’re still perched on the stool, but your posture has softened, your body slumping slightly, your head tilting as your eyelids grow heavy.

the loose dress still clings to your frame, the low neckline and hiked up hem exposing your cleavage and thighs, but the earlier thrill of teasing her has dulled into a warm, sleepy haze.

you’re half-asleep, caught in that liminal space between awareness and dreams, the tension from earlier simmering beneath the surface but softened by exhaustion.

ellie’s voice breaks the quiet, low and a little hesitant

“done.” the word pulls you back, your eyes fluttering open as you blink away the fog.

you straighten slowly, stretching your arms above your head, the motion tugging the dress even higher on your thighs.

you don’t miss the way her eyes flicker down, just for a second, before she busies herself with the sketchbook, her fingers smudging the edges of the page as if to distract herself.

you slide off the stool, your bare feet brushing the cool floor, and cross the short distance to where she’s sitting.

“let’s see it.” you say, your voice still thick with sleep, but there’s a spark of curiosity there, a need to know what she’s captured.

ellie hesitates, her grip on the sketchbook tightening for a moment before she relents, flipping it around to show you.

you lean in, close enough to catch the faint scent of soap and something earthier on her, like pine or cedar.

your eyes fall on the drawing, and for a moment, you’re silent, caught off guard by what you see.

it’s good.

really good.

the lines are confident, capturing the soft curve of your jaw, the tilt of your head, the way your hair falls in loose waves.

she’s drawn you with a kind of raw honesty, your sleepy eyes, the slight parting of your lips, the relaxed slump of your shoulders.

the way she’s shaded the hollow of your throat, the delicate lines of your collarbone, the suggestion of your cleavage, it’s not overt, not crude, but it’s intimate, like she couldn’t help but linger on those details.

the dress is there, clinging to your form, the hem high on your thighs, and she’s captured the vulnerability of it, the way you look both powerful and exposed.

it’s not just a drawing of you, it’s how she sees you.

you glance up at her, and she’s watching you, her expression unreadable but her eyes betraying a quiet intensity.

her cheeks are faintly flushed, and her fingers twitch against the sketchbook, like she’s bracing for your reaction.

the air feels thick again, that familiar tension coiling back to life, sharper now because of the drawing, because of what it reveals about how she’s been looking at you all this time.

“not bad.” you say, your voice softer than you mean it to be, a teasing lilt creeping in despite the way your heart hammers.

“didn’t think you had it in you.” her lips quirk into a half smile, but it’s strained, like she’s trying to play it cool and failing.

“told you.” she says, her voice rough, her eyes flick to the drawing, then back to you, and for a moment, you think she might say something more, something that would tip this moment over the edge.

but she doesn’t.

she just holds your gaze, her breath steady but shallow, waiting.

you step back, just enough to break the spell, but the heat of her stare lingers on your skin.

your dress feels too thin, your body too exposed, and yet you don’t move to cover yourself.

instead, you tilt your head, letting a slow smile curl your lips.

“you should keep it.” you say, nodding toward the sketchbook.

“might be worth something someday.” ellie’s eyes widen, just a fraction, and then she laughs, a low, nervous sound that makes your chest tighten.

“yeah, right.” she mutters, but she doesn’t tear the page out or close the book.

she just sits there, the sketchbook still open, the drawing of you staring up at both of you like a secret neither of you is ready to name.

the tension hums between you, alive and electric, and you know this moment is a turning point, one you could push, one you could pull back from.

─────────────────────────────

the night has crept in too quickly, the hours slipping through your fingers like sand.

outside, the wind howls, rattling the tall windows of the mansion and sending a chill through the walls that no amount of heat can fully banish.

the cold air seeps into your bones, amplifying the loneliness that’s been gnawing at you since your father left.

the house feels too big, too empty, its grandeur a hollow reminder of your isolation.

you prepare for bed mechanically, slipping into a soft silk nightgown that brushes against your skin, its delicate straps and short hem offering little warmth against the chill.

you pull the heavy duvet over you, curling into the center of your oversized bed, but the loneliness clings tighter than the cold.

the darkness of your room feels oppressive, the shadows pooling in the corners like they’re watching you.

you close your eyes, willing sleep to come, sleep finally claims you, but it’s not peaceful.

a nightmare claws its way in, vivid and suffocating, you’re running through the house, but the halls stretch endlessly, doors vanishing as you reach for them.

something’s chasing you, formless, relentless, and your father’s voice echoes, calling you “little doll” but twisted, mocking.

you stumble, your nightgown catching on something sharp, and the cold air burns your skin as you fall into darkness, alone, trapped.

a scream tears from your throat, muffled by the pillow as you jolt awake, your heart pounding so hard it hurts.

your breaths come in shallow gasps, the room spinning as you clutch the duvet, trying to anchor yourself.

the nightmare’s grip lingers, your skin clammy, your body trembling.

the silence of the house is deafening, broken only by the faint creak of the floorboards outside your door.

then, a soft knock.

“hey… you okay in there?” ellie’s voice, low and cautious, cuts through the haze of fear.

the door creaks open before you can respond, and she steps inside, her silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from the hallway.

she’s in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, her hair messy like she’s been roused from sleep, but her eyes are alert, scanning the room before settling on you.

you sit up, pulling the duvet higher to cover yourself, suddenly hyper aware of the thin nightgown, the way it clings to your chest and leaves your shoulders bare.

“i’m fine.” you say, but your voice shakes, betraying you.

you swipe at your damp cheeks, embarrassed by the tears you didn’t realize were there.

“just… bad dream.” ellie hesitates in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame, her gaze softening as she takes you in.

“sounded like more than just a bad dream” she says, her voice gentle but firm, like she’s not buying your attempt to brush it off.

she steps closer, her bare feet silent on the rug, and the room feels smaller with her in it, the air charged with a quiet intensity.

“you sure you’re okay?” you want to snap back, to reclaim the armor you wear so easily during the day, but the nightmare’s aftershocks are still rippling through you, and her presence is oddly grounding.

you shake your head, a small, reluctant admission.

“it’s stupid,” you mutter, looking away, your fingers twisting the edge of the duvet.

“i just… i don’t like being alone in this house sometimes.” ellie’s quiet for a moment, and you half-expect her to leave, to mutter something polite and retreat back to the staff quarters.

but she doesn’t.

instead, she moves to the edge of your bed, sitting down carefully, keeping a respectful distance but close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence.

“not stupid.” she says, her voice low, almost a murmur.

“this place is huge, creepy as hell at night, i’d get spooked too.”

you glance at her, searching for judgment, but there’s none in her expression.

her green eyes are steady, warm, and there’s a faint curve to her lips.

“you don’t have to stay.” you say, though the words feel hollow, like you’re testing her.

you don’t want her to go, not really, not with the cold and the loneliness still pressing in.

she tilts her head, studying you, and there’s that spark in her eyes again, the one that makes your pulse quicken.

“i’m not goin’ anywhere unless you tell me to.” she says, her voice rough but sincere.

her gaze flickers over you, taking in the way you’re curled up, the thin straps of your nightgown, the way your hair falls messily over your shoulders.

it’s not blatant, but it’s enough to make your skin prickle, to remind you of the power you felt earlier when you caught her staring.

the room is quiet again, save for the faint howl of the wind outside, and the space between you feels heavy.

you could send her away, retreat back into the safety of your role, your name.

or you could lean into this, let the tension unravel, see where it takes you.

“sleep next to me.” your voice trembles, a mix of lingering fear from the nightmare and the aching loneliness that’s been eating at you.

you’re still curled under the duvet, the silk nightgown clinging to your skin, your heart pounding as you wait for ellie’s response.

she freezes, her silhouette still on the edge of your bed, her green eyes catching the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains.

for a moment, you think she’ll say no, that she’ll retreat back to the safety of her role, the hired help who shouldn’t cross this line.

but then she nods, her voice low and steady.

“yeah, okay.” ellie shifts, kicking off her boots and sliding onto the bed, keeping a careful distance, a friendly, respectful gap that feels like a chasm despite the tension crackling between you.

she lies on her back, one arm tucked behind her head, the other resting on her stomach, her t shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin above her sweatpants.

the bed is massive, but her presence makes it feel impossibly small, every rustle of the sheets amplifying the heat building in your chest.

you try to close your eyes, to focus on the steady rhythm of her breathing beside you, but sleep won’t come.

the nightmare’s shadow lingers, and so does the memory of her drawing, her gaze, the way she looked at you like you were more than just the boss’s daughter.

the silence stretches, heavy with unspoken words, and you can feel her awake beside you, the air thick with anticipation.

you turn your head, and your breath catches.

she’s already looking at you, her eyes glinting in the dark, wide and unblinking, like she’s been watching you this whole time.

the intensity in her gaze pins you in place, stripping away the pretense, the distance.

you hold her stare, your pulse hammering, the space between you shrinking with every second that passes.

beither of you speaks, but the pull is undeniable, a current dragging you closer.

then, ellie moves.

it’s slow at first, deliberate, like she’s giving you a chance to pull back.

but you don’t.

she shifts closer, her body turning toward you, her hand brushing against your arm under the duvet, sending a shiver through you.

her face is inches from yours now, her breath warm against your lips, and you can see the question in her eyes, the hesitation.

you don’t give her time to overthink it.

you lean in, and she meets you halfway, her lips crashing into yours with a hunger that steals your breath.

the kiss is deep, urgent, her mouth hot and insistent, tasting faintly of mint and something uniquely her.

her hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer, her fingers tangling in your hair as she presses herself against you.

the kiss swallows the tension, replacing it with a raw, desperate need that’s been building since the moment you caught her staring.

ellie pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark with want, her chest heaving.

“you sure?” she rasps, her voice rough, like she’s fighting to keep control.

you nod, your own voice failing you, and that’s all she needs.

she surges forward, kissing you harder, her tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you.

her hands roam, sliding under the hem of your nightgown, her calloused fingers grazing the soft skin of your thighs, making you gasp into her mouth.

she’s not gentle, but there’s a purpose to her touch, a reverence in the way she explores you, like she’s been imagining this for days.

she pushes you onto your back, straddling your hips, her weight grounding you as she kisses down your neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin above your collarbone.

your nightgown is bunched up around your waist now, and she pauses, her eyes raking over you, taking in the exposed skin, the way your chest rises and falls.

“fuck.” she mutters under her breath, almost to herself, and the raw desire in her voice sends a pulse of heat through you.

her mouth is on you again, but this time it’s different, hungrier, rougher.

she spits into her hand, her movements deliberate, and you feel the slick warmth of her fingers as they slide between your thighs, teasing you open.

you moan, the sound swallowed by the dark, and she smirks against your skin, her fingers circling your clit with a precision that makes your hips buck.

“so fuckin’ wet,” she murmurs, her voice low and filthy, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes you.

she doesn’t tease for long.

her fingers slip inside you, two at first, stretching you with a slow, deliberate rhythm that has you arching into her touch.

she’s relentless, curling her fingers just right, her thumb pressing against your clit in time with her thrusts.

the bed creaks under you, the sound mingling with your gasps, the wet slick of her fingers, her low, ragged breathing.

she’s fucking you like she means it, like she’s staking a claim, and you’re helpless beneath her, your body responding to every touch, every thrust.

her other hand grips your thigh, spreading you wider, and she leans down, spitting directly onto your cunt, the act so brazen it shocks you into another moan.

the added slickness makes her fingers glide faster, rougher, and you’re unraveling, the coil in your core tightening with every second.

she’s watching you, her eyes locked on your face, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, like she’s memorizing you.

“ellie!” you choke out, your voice breaking, and her pace quickens, her fingers driving deeper, harder.

you’re close, teetering on the edge, and in the haze of it all, the words spill out, raw and unfiltered.

“i- love you.”Her movements falter for a split second, her eyes widening, a flash of shock, fear, maybe disbelief, crossing her face.

“what? no…” she says, her voice rough, almost panicked, but she doesn’t stop.

if anything, she fucks you harder, her fingers relentless, her lips crashing back to yours to silence you, to drown out the weight of your words.

tou don’t care.

you’re too far gone, your body chasing release, your hands clawing at her shoulders, pulling her closer.

the orgasm hits you like a wave, crashing through you, your body shuddering as you cry out, your nails digging into her skin.

ellie keeps going, drawing it out, her fingers slowing but not stopping until you’re trembling, oversensitive and gasping beneath her.

she finally pulls back, her hand slick and glistening, her chest heaving as she looks down at you, her expression unreadable.

you’re still catching your breath, your body buzzing, the room spinning.

the weight of what you said hangs between you, heavy and unresolved, but she doesn’t say anything else.

she just watches you, her eyes dark, her lips parted, like she’s caught between running and staying.

the cold air feels sharper now, the loneliness you felt earlier banished but replaced with something new—something fragile, something dangerous. You don’t know what she’s thinking, but you know this moment has changed everything.

your heart is still racing, your body trembling in the aftermath of your release, the air thick with the weight of your confession.

the words “i love you” hang between you like a live wire, raw and exposed, and you’re scrambling to take them back, to undo the vulnerability you’ve just laid bare.

“i-im sorry, i didn’t know why i said that—” you stammer, your voice shaky, your cheeks burning as you try to meet ellie’s gaze.

she’s still hovering above you, her t shirt rumpled, her hair a mess, her eyes dark and unreadable.

her chest heaves, her slick fingers flexing at her side like she’s trying to ground herself.

for a moment, you think she might address it, might confront the words you let slip, but instead...

“sit on my face.” she says, her voice low and commanding, rough with desire.

the bluntness of it steals your breath, your apology dissolving into a startled gasp.

her eyes lock on yours, unyielding, daring you to hesitate, to shy away.

there’s no room for shame in her tone, no space for the awkwardness you feel creeping in, just raw, unfiltered want.

you blink, your mind catching up to her words, your body already responding despite the nervous flutter in your chest.

“w-what?” you manage, but it’s weak, more reflex than resistance.

the idea sends a fresh wave of heat through you, your thighs clenching instinctively, and she notices, her smirk widening.

“you heard me.” she says, shifting to lie back on the bed, her hands resting casually behind her head, her posture all confidence, like she’s already picturing you above her.

“c’mere. i’m not done with you.” her voice is a challenge, a pull you can’t resist, and the way she’s looking at you, like you’re hers, like she’s claiming every inch of you, makes your pulse pound.

you hesitate for a heartbeat, the vulnerability of your earlier confession still stinging, but the heat in her gaze, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips, drowns it out.

you want this.

you want her.

slowly, you move, climbing over her, your nightgown still bunched around your hips, your skin flushed and sensitive from her earlier touch.

her hands find your thighs as you position yourself, guiding you, her fingers digging into your skin with just enough pressure to make you shiver.

you hover above her face, your breath hitching, suddenly hyper aware of every detail, her freckles, the scar cutting through her eyebrow, the way her eyes burn with anticipation.

“ellie…” you murmur, half a question, half a plea, but she doesn’t give you time to second guess.

“down.” she says, her voice a growl, and she pulls you closer, her strength surprising you as she guides you until you’re straddling her face, your thighs trembling on either side of her head.

the first brush of her mouth against you is electric, a jolt that makes you gasp, your hands flying to the headboard for balance.

her tongue is relentless, lapping at you with a hunger that feels like it’s unraveling you from the inside out, her hands gripping your hips to keep you exactly where she wants you.

you’re a mess of gasps and moans, your body moving instinctively, grinding against her mouth as she works you with a precision that’s almost brutal.

she’s not gentle, she’s devouring you, spitting against your clit before sucking it hard, the wet heat of her mouth driving you higher, faster.

your thighs shake, your nails dig into the wood of the headboard, and the tension from earlier, the unspoken weight of your words, dissolves into pure sensation.

“fuck, ellie!” you whimper, your voice breaking, and you feel her groan against you, the vibration sending another shockwave through your core.

she’s relentless, her tongue circling, her lips closing around you, her hands urging you to move, to take what you need.

the room spins, the cold air forgotten, the loneliness banished by the heat of her mouth, the strength of her grip.

you’re close again, too fast, the coil in your core tightening until it’s unbearable.

your hips buck, and she doubles down, her tongue plunging deeper, her hands bruising your thighs as she holds you in place.

the release hits you like a storm, a cry tearing from your throat as you come, your body shuddering above her, waves of pleasure crashing through you until you’re gasping, boneless, clinging to the headboard to stay upright.

she doesn’t stop, not immediately, her tongue slowing but still teasing, drawing out every aftershock until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and trembling.

finally, she pulls back, her lips glistening, her eyes half lidded and smug as she looks up at you.

you slide off her, collapsing onto the bed beside her, your chest heaving, your mind blank except for the lingering buzz of your orgasm.

the silence returns, but it’s different now, less heavy, more charged.

she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her breathing still uneven, and glances at you, her expression unreadable but softer than before.

the weight of your earlier confession lingers, unaddressed, but for now, it’s buried under the raw intensity of what just happened.

you don’t know what this means, what tomorrow will bring, but as you catch her eye, you know one thing for certain.

the two of you are not finished.

[seoups]

MOODSWINGS- S. GOJO

you'd been slipping away from gojo for weeks now. but he'd do anything to get you back. cw: angst, saddness, gojo being gojo, failing relationship, happy ending song: moodswings by 5sos

"I CAN TELL WHEN YOU'RE SLIPPING FROM ME. EVEN WHEN IT'S ONLY SUBCONCIOUSLY."

It had started small. A dull ache in his chest as he watched you slide closer and closer towards the edge of the bed, no longer sleeping in his arms. He couldn’t place the emotion but every breath, every glance that didn’t meet his eyes, every time you speed walked past his office, he felt you slipping away from him.

Gojo sat with his head bowed on the edge of your bed. His blindfold lay abandoned on the table, exchanged for his sunglasses.

His fingers twitched against his knees as he waited for you to come home from work. Despite working together, the two of you hadn’t come home together in a while. You used to walk side by side, laughing and sharing stories about your day, but those distant memories began to fade in his mind.

The sound of the bedroom door unlocking snapped him out of his thoughts and he straightened reflexively. Your footsteps were soft on the hardwood floor as you made your way to your bathroom, getting ready for bed.

“Goodnight, Satoru.”

You smiled as you climbed into bed, clinging to the pillow as you fell asleep, your body angled away from him.

It’d been weeks since Satoru last felt your warmth in his arms. Weeks since he’d woken up to the feeling of you pressed against his chest. He wasn’t sure exactly when you’d left his arms but the distance between the two of you continued to grow.

He missed you. Every morning when he woke up, he craved your touch. He craved for the sound of your laugh. But settled for hearing it across the break room when you spoke with Shoko. It wasn’t the same, but it was all he had left.

But it wasn’t until one night in the rain as the two of you waited for the first years to finish a mission that Gojo truly understood you and why the distance had first started.

“Satoru. Do you like the man you’ve become since high school?”

Your eyes avoided his, but your voice stayed steady. It caught him off guard and he let out a laugh, joking about he was the strongest.

He hadn’t noticed the way your fist clenched, and your lips pursed as he waited for your response.

“Right.”

He’d started coming home late last week. He told himself it was because he had missions but truly, he was just avoiding the emptiness of your home. You’d noticed but didn’t wait up for him. Now, his dinner sat on the counter- neatly cling-wrapped with sticky notes atop it.

‘Microwave.’ Or ‘soda in fridge’.

Nothing more than a few words, distant and impersonal. But with the care you had for him when you first gotten married. You always remembered his love for sweet foods and drinks.

As he sat in bed with you, backs facing each other, he wondered how this all started- trying to pinpoint when exactly you’d started slipping away from him. Your question rang through his ears.

“Do you like the man you’ve become since highschool?”

He didn’t have an answer. Not one he wanted to say aloud.

He came home early one day and saw you sitting on the sofa, staring at your wedding ring and twisting it around your finger. The sunlight lit up your face in a way that reminded Gojo of your wedding day. But there was a look in your eyes that he couldn’t ignore.

He crept up on you and asked you what you were thinking about.

“Just remembering.”

He hadn’t pressed further. But he wished he had. He buried himself in missions to pick up extra money. He had enough but he’d managed to convince himself that the more he provided for you, the more you wouldn’t want to leave. But that wasn’t the root of the issue.

Especially when he overheard a conversation you were having with Shoko during a lunch break.

“I don’t even know who he is anymore, Shoko,” you’d sighed. “It’s like he’s a completely different man than the one I married.”

Shoko’s response was drowned out by the thumping of his heart. The words felt like a slap in the face, even if they weren’t meant for him to hear.

He wanted to argue- to burst in the room and tell you that he was the same as the man you’d married. But was he really?

“Do you like the man you’ve become since high school?”

The question had haunted him for a while, playing on loop in his mind whenever he saw your face.

It’d been a while since you’d yelled at him. Arguments went unsaid between you two. Not until he came home battered and bloody after a mission. Hurt but victorious.

“Satoru, what the HELL? Why didn’t you go to Shoko?”

You’d rushed to his side to take care of him, using the first aid kid to take care of and clean his wounds. It would be a lie to say that he hadn’t considered getting injured again to feel your touch more often.

That night, he watched the rain fall and run down the side of the window as the two of you continued your dance of sleeping with your backs to each other.

He turned for a moment to reach out to you, his hand hovering inches above your shoulder as you slept. But he couldn’t bring himself to reach you. Instead, he let his hand fall back to his side.

From that day forward, he pledged to become the man you married. He started coming home on time, even offering to drive you home.  

You hadn’t seen the inside of his Tesla in weeks. It seemed the same but different all at the same time.

“When’d you get this pink umbrella?” you glanced to the side door of the passenger seat. “Got it for ya,” he kept his eyes on the road.

His comment wasn’t anything special. He’d gotten you things all the time before. But it stuck with you.

Small gestures like this became a routine with Gojo, something you now looked forward to. You felt yourself easing into comfort in his presence. The past rigidity you felt melting away as Gojo put in more and more effort.

Your dinners were less lonely than before, now consisting of talking about each other’s days. He asked about your day with a genuine curiosity and followed up about ‘that one curse that looked like elvis’ among other topics. Gojo had even managed to make you laugh multiple times per meal. And for the first time in a while, it hadn’t felt forced.

But what really brought everything home was the day you came up to his office during lunch instead of eating with Shoko, bento box in hand.

“Don’t forget to eat, Toru,” you placed the box on his desk.

He blinked up at you, his surprise quickly melting into a warm smile that made your heart flutter as if you were falling for him all over again.

“Thank you, sweet girl.”

And to an extent, you were falling in love with him all over again.

Gojo went out of his way to be present in your life, even in the smallest moments. Every morning that he didn’t have a mission, he would wake you up with plates of fluffy pancakes or scrambled eggs and your favorite tea.

But it wasn’t just the gestures that made a difference. It was the small moments- the way he’d reach for your hand subconsciously, the way he’d text you during missions to check in and update you, the way he’d sit next to you in the evenings even when you were both too tired to talk.

One night, as the rain slid down the windows, he turned to you in bed. This time, he didn’t hesitate. He reached out, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. For a moment, you stiffened before melting into him, your head resting against his chest.

“You’re warm,” you said softly. “Yeah?” “I missed this,”  you hummed against his chest. “Me too.”

© 2024 SEOUPS do not plagiarize, steal, translate or repost my works on any platforms!

[ubeb0nes]

HCs of Sevika in Love ఌ

Congrats champ, you bagged a baddie!

**Reader is fem!

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It's not that Sevika has crazy high standards. Her wants in a partner are actually very straightforward; it's just that most people lack the base integrity and self-accountability to even catch her attention in the first place

I really don't think she'd ever fall for anyone from Piltover, there's just too many generations of trauma accompanied by a life lived under their foot for her to get past. She loves Zaun too much to ever love anything to do with Piltover

That said, she's attracted to the ideals she associates with the Undercity; perseverance, strength (doesn't have to mean physical), adaptability and loyalty. If you have her love, you most certainly earned it bae

For her, it's probably an "oh shit"/"oh no" type of singular moment, when she realizes she's fallen in love

Either you got hurt or in some position where her true feelings were forced out of her, OR it's during an achingly soft moment where it's clear how loyal/devoted you are to her, and only her.

Absolutely spends months denying herself. She will try to distance, reasoning that you're both better off without the notion of love walling you in.

Zaun is no place for that, she thinks. She recalls Felicia and her husband, dying together on that bridge while a twenty-something year-old Sevika, at the time, watched them fall.

The pain to know you couldn't save your loved one in your final moments (even worse to leave two young children behind). She couldn't imagine it. Didn't want to. Sevika knew that her road would end at a violent last stop, and she didn't want you anywhere near that. She thinks about having met you in a different place.

…But she can't fully hide how she feels about you, not ever. She may oftentimes be rough and ruthless, but even at her worst moment Sevika isn't a cold individual. She's too passionate about you, cares too deeply for where you are and how you are

So when you show up at her apartment to yell at her for being so cruel, for shutting you out of her heart instead of being a grown-ass woman and telling you what the fuck you did wrong, she lets you.

She lets you yell until you've tired yourself out, and then she pulls you into that embrace you missed so much. You hit her shoulder or her chest, weakly, because you love her like crazy and never wanna actually hurt her, and tell her to fuck off.

"I didn't wanna push you away, dumbass," she'll say to you, softly, as she presses a kiss to your ear, "You think I don't want you with me all the time? To tell you I love you and shit without it coming back to bite us in the ass? Of course I do. Of course I do. I just… I don't know how. But I'm gonna fuckin' learn, doll. I promise."

"You… you love me? Really?" "Doll, I don't even let Silco talk to me like that." "You asshole-!"

You're mad, but not really. How can you be? You two will make this work, she already gave you her word.

It's more likely for you to move in with her than vice versa. She lets you go ham on adding your personality to her living space, she doesn't have any strong preferences besides cleanliness

Always says I love you before she goes to work. Just in case. If you mess with her and don't say it back, she will get up in arms about it within two seconds of silence

"I could die, you know." "Babe, I'm just joking!" "Do you see me laughing??"

Obviously, lets her drama queen side show more. She's just all-around looser once she confesses.

She makes sure you know how different you are from others, how special you are. Even her posture is different the moment you're within arm's reach

Body language and physicality are Sevika's main fluency. When in love, you notice the way she angles her body protectively around yours in public, or how she always urges you to link your arm with hers when you walk.

You notice that she almost looks… smaller at home. You realize this is on purpose. She makes herself less intimidating when it's just you, lowering herself to your level and opening her posture to you

At home, she likes kneeling by your side when you're sitting on the couch, checking you over or pressing slow kisses to your hands.

Devoted, devoted, devoted. She never wants you to forget.

Every time you call her name, she always stops what she's doing to give you her attention.

"Sevi?" "Yes, baby?" Every time. It's grounding for you both, in a way

Her henchmen become your henchmen. They know better than to say no to your requests for their help. (Ran is down for antics with you regardless!!)

People all over the Undercity start to recognize you as "Sevika's woman". Not her "girl", you garner too much respect for that

You are the only person Sevika answers to besides Silco. Her close circle teases her that you turn her into a little lovestruck puppy

It's really only them who are even capable of teasing her about this, because her changes in behavior are so minute but so important

She puts out her cigarillos when you sit down with her. She always shifts you over to her left side (the side most capable of protecting you). Her eyes start scanning the room more frequently than before you'd arrived.

She figures out over time that she was wrong. When she holds you against her while you sleep, and you grab her hand half-consciously to press kisses to her wrist, she knows you don't make her weak

When you whisper that you love her against her neck while you sway in the kitchen, moving to whatever music vibrates from the depths of her beloved city, she knows you don't make her weak

When you pull her back together without fail, remind her that she is more than just a grunt in a revolution, a soldier that can be replaced, she knows you don't make her weak

There isn't anything she wouldn't do to get back to you. She has to live long enough to know what a good life in a liberated Zaun looks like with you

[taro-bae]

Twisted Wonderland - Third Years

Summary: reacting to you falling asleep in their room

Characters: Third Years

CW/Notes: gn!reader, fluff, Slight Book 7 Spoilers! (Malleus's part), mostly written as platonic but its up to the reader

Trey Clover

Trey makes it to his dorm room after a hustling day of classes and vice-warden duties. He's ready to just sit down and relax his muscles for the afternoon. As soon as he steps inside his room, he recognises a familiar figure lying in his spacious bed on his clover plush. Trey smirks a little amused by your choice of sleeping space. He makes sure the lights are off making his way towards you. He shifts your body to put the blanket covers over you.

Trey is like the older brother of Heartslabyul. He has younger siblings and knows how to take responsibility for others. Taking off his dorm Uniform hat and jacket, he settles at a respectful distance away from you, just resting his eyes with a hand behind his head. He watches you as you stir awake. "Sleep well, sleepyhead?" Trey says with a teasing smirk looking at your slightly dishevelled appearance.

Cater Diamond

After the unbirthday party, Cater returns, eyes locked on his phone as he edits and goes through all the photos he has taken during the day. He walks into the room, still looking down at his phone until he notices a silhouette hugging his smily plushie. Cater immediately goes to his camera, tip toeing towards the bed.

He takes multiple photos thinking just how cute you look with your cheek flushed and soft against the pillow. Cater hovers over you to snap different angles and profiles. "Aww, such a cutie~" Their cheeks look so soft, " He thinks in his head, trying not to wake you up. He reaches over to poke your cheek, snapping a picture at the same time. Minutes later, you are on Magicam for everyone to see, and Cater has no shame. There are plenty hashtags describing just how cute he thinks you like #sleepingbeauty #cutiepatootie #sweetcheeks

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is not pleased. Leona did sense you before even making it into his room by your scent. He scowls, seeing the person lying in his bed. "Stupid herbivore" His tail swishing behind him in annoyance. "Oi, wake up" Leona says bluntly, standing over you. When you refuse to get out and won't budge he lets out a frustrated sigh. "Move over. Now".

Leona slumps over on the bed, spreding his limbs out. He doesn't care at this point. He shifts over, pulling you into his body. "Since ya not gonna listen, you'll be my pillow," He says in a gruff voice. His tail is thumping against the mattress, but he likes how comfortable this is. He will never admit it, though. Leona has a sense of pride that you're not afraid to be near him, let alone dare fall asleep in his room. "Not a word or ya out. I need my nap". He's out within seconds.

Rook Hunt

Rook already knew you were in his room. Most likely, it was his works doing, a set up to get you into his room. Being a hunter, he knows exactly what's happening were and he keeps his diligent eyes on you. Rook returns to his room, where you sleep with an adoring look on his face. "Such a darling, Mon ange ♡" He's absolutely mesmerised by your beauty and peaceful, vulnerable state. He sees beauty in everything. To him, you're like a work of art in itself.

Rook watches over your sleeping face and body. The way your body rises with each breath to the small movement of your face. He takes in every detail. At some point, he takes out his phone to snap a few photos of you. He's so stealthy you'll never know he did. Just be warned you'll end up on his secret wall behind the wallpaper in his room. He's a questionable one.

Vil Schoenheit

The last thing Vil expects is to find someone in his room when he returns. Let alone finding someone in his bed, that's just unacceptable. He lets out a small cough before he speaks, "Wake up this instant." Vil makes his way across the room. "You mustn't sleep in such attire, and sevens forbid in my bed. One must always wear clean pyjamas and do a proper skin and hair routine prior. Which you clearly have not done."

Vil would scold you and point out your eyebags or tired look, warning about the consequences of overworking yourself. You have no choice but to follow through with his routine as he applies beauty products on your face and hair. If you complied well, he might just let you stay and rest up. "Very well...I'll permit you to stay. But don't make a habit out of this. " His voice is authorative, but without a bite to it. Vil actually secretly enjoys pampering you with some self-care and sharing his knowledge.

Idia Shroud

What was he doing out of his room in the first place? Who knows. When Idia comes back, it's an instant panic and internal turmoil. He nearly yelled but slapped his hands over his mouth. "What are they doing here! This can't be happening IRL! What do I do? They'll be mad if I wake them up!" He is slouched over, fiddling with his hoodie string, trying to decide what to do. His heart is pounding in his chest, the phrase "why me? Why my room?" Running through his head at a hundred miles per hour.

He can't help but stare at you, a small smile tugging at his blue lips. "No, stop! That's creepy. Cringe behaviour. They'll think you are a creep!" Idia snaps himself out of the trance but can't bring himself to wake you up. He huddles over near his desk, distracting himself with a game occasionally glancing at you sleeping with the ends of his hair pink.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is surprised to find anyone in his room. He appears looming over the sleeping form eyes slightly widened as he observes your state. Malleus is rather glad that you're here, making his room seem less lonely. He is pleased that you are not afraid of him and comfortable enough to sleep not only in his room but remain asleep in his presence.

Malleus ensures the room suits your comfort, moving the blankets over you. "You're an interesting cause, child of man. A truly endearing sight." Malleus watches over you, ensuring you only have pleasing dreams and a deserved rest. After a short passing of time, He starts humming a melody. A lullaby.

"My eyes are watching over you still, let’s be together. With no fear, even if we wake from this dream"

His low voice echoes through the room, sensing you into a deeper sleep. That guaranteed would be the best sleep of your life.

Lilia Vanrouge

His room is a mess stuffed with artefacts and the most random things. Lilia finds you tired and fast asleep in his room. He sees this as a perfect opportunity to give you a little scare. Hanging off the ceiling, he yells out a "boo!" Causing you to wake up. "Khee hee," he plays it off by acting cute. "Fu-fu~ look at you all worn out, little one." Lilia doesn't miss a chance to tease you.

His red eyes sparkle with mischief. "Oh, I'm just messing around. Go back to sleep, I'll watch over you~" Says the man who just woke you up for giggles. Once you're off to sleep again, Lilias caring side steps in. He ensures you are safe and well rested, letting you sleep in his room, even on him, as he pats your head affectionately. Lilia is very parental and will guard your sleep from any nightmares.

[mommyslittlebird]

Long Distance Mommy!Wanda: Punishment

Of course, I could finish my chapter for this week, but I could write 2k words of puppy!reader yesterday and 1k words of this today 😵‍💫😵‍💫

"You've been a very naughty girl today, haven't you?" Wanda clicks her tongue over the phone.

You swallowed. You wanted to argue. The only reason you had gotten distracted in class was because she was sending you naughty things all day. But you held your tongue. You knew better than to argue. "Yes, mommy."

"Mmm," she hummed, pleased you thought better of trying to pin this on her. "And you know mommy has to punish naughty girls, don't you?"

You nodded. "Yes, mommy."

"That's a good girl. Now, I need you to go to the toy drawer and pick out exactly what I tell you to, okay? You'll need a plug- the blue one tonight-, the paddle, and your clamps."

Your eyes went wide. It wasn't uncommon that Wanda would make you put in the plug or wear the nipple clamps, but she very rarely made you use both at the same time. You whined. "Mommy..."

"Aww, what is it baby?" She cooed with faux sympathy.

"It's gonna hurt..." you whimpered quietly.

She nearly laughed. "Of course it's going to hurt, baby. It is a punishment, after all. But you're gonna be a good girl for mommy, aren't you?"

"Yes, mommy," you grumbled reluctantly, grabbing the toys and bringing them to the bed. Since dating Wanda, you'd acquired a good number of new toys, including a nice adjustable stand for your phone that allowed you to film yourself on your bed. You set up your phone, putting Wanda on speaker and hitting the video call button.

Wanda smiled as you appeared on her screen, already naked and preparing yourself for her. "Hey, pretty girl."

You blushed, carefully avoiding the camera as you applied lube to the plug and slowly pushed it into your ass.

She clicked disapprovingly. "Uh uh, sweet girl. You know better than that. Turn over and spread your cheeks. Mommy wants to see your pretty plug."

You did as she asked, glad that at least she couldn't see how red your face was getting from this angle, even though you were sure she already knew.

She hummed. "Mmm, good girl. You're lucky I don't make you take it out and put it back in, since you decided to hide it from me the first time."

You whimpered at the thought. "Thank you, mommy. I'm sorry."

When she finally had her fill, she spoke again. "Okay, sweetheart. You can turn back over now. Show mommy how you put on your clamps."

You turned back over, showing her the clamps first so she could make sure they were adjusted to their most intense setting. You pinched your nipple, crying out as the cruel metal sank into the sensitive bud. You did the same thing on the other side, nearly crying with how sensitive you were.

The plug stung slightly, stretching you just past what was comfortable. But the clamps hurt even worse, burning and stinging your sensitive chest. You were already squirming in front of Wanda. "Mommy, can I touch myself, please? Please mommy. It hurts so bad." The lack of pleasurable stimulation made the pain almost unbearable.

Wanda, who could see how quickly you were already approaching a breaking point, caved. "Yes, baby. Play with yourself for me. Tell mommy how it feels."

The pressure to your clit immediately brought you relief, allowing the stinging pain to take on a slightly pleasurable edge. It was truly amazing how much of a difference it made. You moaned. "Much better, mommy. It still h-hurts. But... not s-so bad."

"Mmm, that's a good girl. Keep touching yourself for me, baby. Get yourself nice and sensitive."

You did as she asked, bucking against your own hand in a desperate attempt to get yourself off. With the stimulation on nearly every sensitive part of your body, you could feel your orgasm steadily approaching. You hoped Wanda would have mercy on you, deciding that the combination of the clamps and plug was enough of a punishment for tonight. "Can I cum, mommy?"

Wanda was slightly taken aback by your question. Sure, she'd been teasing you all day, but you were hardly ever this fast. "So close already, baby?"

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip.

"Stop." She commanded.

You whined but did as she instructed.

"Pick up the paddle. I want you to hold yourself open for me and spank your little clit twenty times. I'll count out loud. If I don't think it was hard enough, it doesn't count. Understand?"

You whined, picking up the paddle in your right hand, using your left hand to spread your lips apart, putting your swollen clit on display for her. Hesitantly, you brought the paddle down with a soft thud. She didn't start counting. You tried again, harder this time. She didn't say "one" until the third time, when the leather made a loud thwack again your glistening folds.

You continue to bring down the paddle again and again, eyes watering and thighs shaking until they uncontrollably snap closed. "No more, mommy. Please."

"Three more." She commands. She takes a small bit of mercy on you. She'd only counted 15.

Shaking, you spread your thighs again, bringing the paddle down again. Your legs snap closed in between each painful strike, but you manage three more.

Her harsh demeanor final fades away after she counts the third strike. She allows you to throw the paddle down and collapse onto the bed with your thighs pressed tightly together in an attempt to relief the pain. "You did so good for me angel. You can take the clamps off and the plug out whenever you're ready, baby. Mommy's got you, sweetheart."

Even from far away, she was always so tender in her aftercare. She directed you through all the steps, carefully talking you through everything from applying ointment to wrapping yourself up in your favorite blanket. She told you leave the toys on the nightstand wrapped in a blanket. They could wait until morning.

You wrapped yourself around the stuffed bear she'd bought you, inhaling the strawberry scent she'd picked out to put inside. You let her soft words of praise and love wrap around you, pretending she was laying right beside you. You peacefully drifted off to the sound of her gentle voice singing to you.

Even from miles away, she would always let you know you are her precious angel, more loved than anything else in the world.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

WAITING AIN’T EASY

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: after 6 gruelling months of long distance with drew, y/n decides to surprise him on set. listen to ‘waiting ain’t easy’ — Evan Honer!!

based on this ask !! i really hope you enjoy my lovely :) amazing ask as always !! i made a little twist on it though, and added some angsty goodness to make it more emotional <3

WARNINGS: angst to fluff, fighting, crying, mentions of breaking up, long distance relationship, like one (?) curse word, brief mention of cheating rumours (made by the media) and i think that’s it? (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N stared out at the crashing waves outside her beachfront rental in Australia, the sun dipping low in a painted sky of reds and golds. Normally, she would've snapped a picture to send Drew, knowing how much he loved sunsets. But tonight, her phone sat abandoned on the kitchen counter, vibrating occasionally with notifications she couldn't bring herself to check.

It had been nearly six months since she'd left for Australia to film her new movie, a dream opportunity that she'd accepted with boundless enthusiasm. Drew had been so supportive at first, kissing her forehead and promising her they'd figure it out. "Eight months will fly by," he'd said. "We'll make it work." And for a while, they had.

The first few months had been manageable—late-night FaceTime calls, text messages scattered throughout the day, photos exchanged to make each other smile. But as the weeks turned into months, the strain started to show. The time difference, their conflicting schedules, and the exhaustion from their respective work had turned their once-effortless connection into something fragmented and brittle.

And then there were the rumors.

The first article had popped up about a month ago, with pictures of Y/N and her co-star, Paul Mescal, leaving a restaurant. They'd been with a group of castmates, but the tabloids didn't care about context. The angle made it look intimate, as if the two of them had been alone. Headlines screamed: "New Flame on Set?" and "Trouble in Paradise for Drew Starkey and Y/N?"

Drew hadn't believed the rumors—not really. He knew how tabloids worked. But the seed of doubt had been planted. Their conversations became laced with tension. "Why didn't you tell me you were going out?" Drew had asked one night, his voice tight.

"I didn't think I had to give you a play-by-play of my day," she'd snapped, the exhaustion from a grueling shoot making her sharper than she intended.

"I'm not asking for a play-by-play, Y/N. I just want to know what's going on in your life. Is that too much to ask?"

The fight spiraled from there, unresolved, and left a bitter taste that lingered.

Tonight, their most recent argument had pushed them to a breaking point.

She answered the phone after his third call, her voice strained. "Hey."

"Hey," Drew replied, the weight of unspoken words heavy in the silence that followed.

"I'm sorry I didn't call earlier," she began, trying to preempt his frustration. "I got caught up on set, and—"

"Y/N, you always get caught up on set," Drew interrupted, his tone clipped. "I'm starting to feel like I'm not a priority anymore."

Her heart sank. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it? Because it feels like I'm the only one trying here."

"Trying?" she repeated, her voice rising. "Drew, do you know how hard this has been for me too? I miss you every single day, but I can't just drop everything to cater to your insecurities."

"Insecurities?" he echoed, incredulous. "You're calling me insecure because I want to spend more than five minutes talking to my girlfriend? Because I'm tired of feeling like I'm the last thing on your mind?"

"Don't do this," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Don't twist this into something it's not."

"Then tell me what it is, Y/N," he shot back. "Because right now, it feels like we're falling apart."

Her throat tightened. "Maybe we are," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Drew exhaled shakily on the other end of the line. "Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know what I believe anymore," she admitted, tears streaming down her face. "This... this isn't what I thought it would be. I didn't think it would hurt this much."

"You think I don't hurt too?" His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "You think I don't lie awake every night wishing you were here? That I don't feel like I'm losing my mind wondering if this is worth it anymore?"

Her chest tightened painfully, but she couldn't find the words to soothe him. To soothe herself. The weight of their love—their pain—pressed down on her like a crushing wave.

"I can't do this right now," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," Drew said bitterly, "of course you can't."

And then the line went dead.

Y/N stared at the screen, her hand trembling as the call ended. She wanted to call him back, to take it all back, but the words hung in the air between them, too heavy to ignore.

Halfway across the world in Charleston, Drew sat in his apartment, his phone clutched in his hand. He stared at the empty screen, the echo of their fight replaying in his mind. The silence in the room was deafening, the loneliness suffocating.

They were both alone, yet they'd never felt further apart.

—

Drew sat on set, legs stretched out as he leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. The day had been slow, and while he loved working on Outer Banks, his mind wasn't fully there. It hadn't been for weeks. The weight of his argument with Y/N lingered, the harsh words and silence that followed gnawing at him.

He sighed, locking his phone and tossing it onto the nearby table. The OBX cast was scattered around the set, some chatting, others grabbing snacks. Madelyn, Madison and Carlacia were huddled together near the craft services table, giggling about something. Their sudden burst of laughter caught Drew's attention.

"What's so funny?" he called out, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing!" Madison replied quickly, a little too quickly. She nudged Carlacia, who bit her lip to stifle another laugh.

Suspicious, Drew tilted his head but didn't press further. He wasn't in the mood for their antics today. As much as he loved his friends, all he really wanted was Y/N. Six months apart felt like an eternity, and knowing they still had two more months to go made the ache in his chest worse.

What he didn't know was that Y/N was only minutes away.

Y/N stepped off the plane, her heart pounding as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. She had managed to keep the wrap of her film a secret from Drew, wanting to surprise him in the best way possible. It hadn't been easy; she'd had to bite her tongue during their rare phone calls and carefully avoid social media posts that might tip him off.

Madelyn, Madison and Carlacia had been the first people she told about her plan, and they had been more than happy to help. When she landed, they were waiting for her, practically vibrating with excitement.

"You ready to blow his mind?" Madelyn asked, grinning as she pulled Y/N into a hug.

"I've never been more ready," Y/N said, her nerves and excitement warring within her.

Carlacia held up her phone, ready to document everything. "Okay, we've got this all planned. He's sitting in the main lounge area. You just walk in, and we'll follow behind you."

Y/N nodded, exhaling shakily. "Let's do this."

Back on set, Drew was oblivious. The girls had disappeared somewhere, but he didn't think much of it. They were always running off to do their own thing. He leaned forward, rubbing his hands over his face as exhaustion crept in.

The sound of footsteps approaching barely registered until he heard a familiar voice, soft and hesitant.

"Hey, Starkey."

Drew's head whipped around so fast that his chair tipped backward, clattering to the floor. He stumbled to his feet, his heart racing as his eyes locked on her.

"Y/N?" His voice cracked, disbelief written all over his face.

Before she could say another word, Drew launched himself toward her, nearly tripping over his fallen chair in his haste. He reached her in seconds, his arms wrapping tightly around her as he lifted her off the ground.

"Y/N," he choked out, his voice breaking as he buried his face in her shoulder.

She clung to him just as tightly, her arms wrapped around his neck as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Hi, baby," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Drew pulled back just enough to look at her, his face streaked with tears. "You're here? How are you here? I thought—"

"My shoot wrapped early," she interrupted, laughing through her tears. "I wanted to surprise you."

Drew didn't hesitate. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss so full of love and longing that it made Y/N's knees weak. Around them, the cast erupted in exaggerated groans and laughter.

"Get a room!" Rudy teased, shielding his eyes dramatically.

"Y'all are gonna make me cry," Carlacia joked, still filming the entire moment.

When Drew finally pulled away, his forehead rested against Y/N's, his tears falling freely now. "God, I missed you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I missed you so fucking much."

"I missed you too," Y/N said, her hands cupping his face as she brushed away his tears. "I'm so sorry, Drew. For everything. For the fight, for the silence. I hated it. I hated being apart from you."

"Me too," Drew admitted, his voice cracking again. "I was so scared, Y/N. Scared I was losing you."

"Never," she said firmly. "I was scared too, but I never stopped loving you. Not for a second."

Drew let out a shaky laugh, his arms tightening around her as if he were afraid she might disappear. "Waiting ain't easy," he said softly, his eyes searching hers, "but it's worth it for you. Always."

Y/N felt fresh tears well up as she kissed him again, pouring every ounce of love and reassurance she had into it. When they finally broke apart, the cast was clapping and cheering, much to Drew's embarrassment.

"Alright, alright, show's over," Drew said, his cheeks flushed as he waved them off. But he couldn't stop smiling, and his hand never left Y/N's.

Carlacia walked up, showing them the video she had taken. "You two are gonna want this later. It's a tearjerker."

Drew chuckled, pulling Y/N closer. "Thanks, Laci."

As the cast gave them some space, Drew turned to Y/N, his eyes still glistening. "You're really here," he said again, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

"I'm here," she confirmed, her smile soft. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Drew's expression softened, his love for her radiating in his gaze. "Good. Because I don't ever want to do this without you again."

They spent the rest of the day glued to each other, catching up, apologising, and soaking in every second of finally being together again.

For the first time in six months, everything felt right.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such an adorable one to write :’) i love writing hurt/comfort, it’s just my absolute fave genre of ff !! i really hope you enjoy this @xoxosblogsblog <3

[averyspizookies]

High schooled

————————

as always all work is fiction.

Cw: 🍃🍃😉 ( very VERY exaggerated for entertainment, I’m completely aware this isn’t how most people are when they’re ⬆️⬆️ so yeah trust lol this isn’t accurate)

Also, hey guys!! I’ve missed writing so much. I hope you all like this stupidness to hold u until I release the fic I’ve been working on, so here’s something silly to pass the time. leave anons and comments!! I love you pookies.

Pairing: high school Azzi x Paige, teammates to lovers.

Word count: 2.5k

___ ____ ___

Paige and Azzi hadn’t really talked since tryouts.

They had that kind of quiet chemistry off the bench—electric in motion, like the ball just understood where it needed to go when it was between them. Both juniors now, they’d played together long enough to know each other’s rhythm.

But that didn’t mean they spoke.

Azzi had a different kind of high school experience than Paige.

She was that girl. Popular, pretty, the one everyone assumed had a line of people trying to date her and ten more waiting to join. The kind of girl teachers adored and strangers rooted for. Not because she was fake nice—but because she was quietly kind. Always helping someone. Always smiling. Always balanced.

Paige… wasn’t like that.

She was loud in her own way. Not obnoxious—just real. Known for zoning out in class and zoning in on the court. Since eighth grade, everyone knew she was gonna be something serious with basketball. She didn’t try in school, didn’t really try to make friends. Not because she was rude. She just didn’t need the noise.

No drama, no gossip, no fake laughing in the locker room. Paige just wasn’t interested.

Except… when it came to Azzi.

Something about her stayed in Paige’s head longer than it should’ve.

Azzi was a walking contradiction—soft-spoken but never timid. Composed but not cold. Like she had more going on under the surface, but didn’t owe anyone access to it. Paige tried freshman year. Reached out. Dropped some lines, tried to get close. Didn’t work.

She figured out real fast she wasn’t the type of person Azzi Fudd kept around.

So she stopped trying. Just admired from a safe distance.

And maybe, yeah, she passed to Azzi more on the court than she should’ve. Maybe she felt it when their plays clicked like clockwork, but it stayed on the court.

They were mutuals online. Occasional polite nods in the hall. Shared group chats with dry thumbs-ups.

So when Azzi found Paige slouched in a stairwell during fourth period, it was…unexpected.

**

Paige was bored. Like, kill-me-now level bored.

Geometry again. Her second time through it. Shapes and angles and numbers that had nothing to do with game stats. She was out of patience. She didn’t need geometry to steal a ball away or drop 20 on a D1 recruit.

So she left.

Asked to use the bathroom, slid her hoodie up, and took a stroll around the school—with a little extra on the side.

The new pen she’d picked up was hitting. Harder than she expected.

She’d only started smoking a couple months ago. Some college party, bad decisions… yadda yadda. But the high? Oh, the high hit like a deep exhale after a long day. Her brain got quiet. Thoughts slowed. Shit just made more sense—or didn’t have to.

No drug tests in-season for high school. So every now and then, when life got too loud, Paige took a moment.

She took one hit. Waited. Then another. Then three more in a row.

Five hits.

Which was about… four too many. For school at least.

“Fuck,” she muttered, staring at herself in the mirror. Her pupils were swimming. Eyes bloodshot. Movements molasses-slow. She looked like she’d just been dragged through a dream.

“Just act cool,” she mumbled, even though her mouth was already betraying her.

She splashed water on her face. Didn’t help. Her reflection looked like it was vibing to a song she couldn’t hear. That white noise hum in her ears made everything feel like a music video.

She walked up the stairwell, each step a challenge. Head bobbing slightly, hoodie half-on, breathing like she was auditioning to be a fog machine.

Then—

“Paige? Are you—uh, okay?”

Azzi’s voice. Light, amused. But with a thread of concern underneath.

Paige turned around way too fast, stumbled a little, then forced a wide, dopey grin. “Azzi! Yep. All good!”

Azzi tilted her head. “You sure? ‘Cause you look a little… lost.”

Paige glanced around, turning her head to sweep her surroundings. Maybe she accidentally took a wrong turn.

Nope, just in school…was this girl good?

Lost? What did Azzi mean lost?

She didn’t need a map.

She was on the fucking stairs.

“I’m on the stairs.”

Azzi fudd might be stupid. I mean she was on the stairs. Not in the ocean.

“Yes, you are indeed,” Azzi said, laughing softly. “I meant lost in a different way, genius.”

“Ohhhhhhhh” Paige chuckled out, realizing she was the stupid one.

That shouldn’t’ve been funny.

But somehow, that was the line that cracked Paige wide open.

Laughter spilled out of her like a floodgate had been waiting to blow. Real, breath-stealing, stomach-clutching laughter. The kind that made you bend over and slap your own knee.

Azzi blinked, half smiling. “Paige? What’s so funny?”

“I don’t—” Paige gasped. “I don’t even know.”

She tried to catch her breath. Failed. Then started laughing again, this time with tears creeping into her eyes. Her face was flushed, eyes even redder now, blue nearly swallowed by the haze.

Azzi moved closer, just in time to catch her as she stumbled forward.

“Whoa—hey, okay,” she said, steadying Paige with a gentle grip.

Paige leaned into her, loose-limbed, chin dropping onto Azzi’s shoulder like she belonged there. Like her body just knew this was a safe place to land.

“You smell good, Az…”

Azzi froze.

Paige’s own brain screamed in slow motion—why’d you say that?!

She hadn’t meant to. But weed turned her mouth into a traitor. And the thing was, it was true. Azzi smelled clean. Calm. Vanilla and something a little citrusy. Paige could’ve buried her face there and floated away.

Before Azzi could say anything, Paige pulled herself upright again. “Uh, thanks. Sorry.”

“Paige, wait—”

“Yeah?” Paige turned around, blinking slow, lips parted.

Azzi hesitated, then exhaled. “I’m… worried about you. I know we’re not really friends, but you’re obviously—not exactly clear-minded right now. So… you wanna just sit with me for a minute?”

She wasn’t judging. Just honest. Soft but firm.

Paige stood there, heartbeat thudding unevenly. If she went back to geometry like this, she’d be cooked. Suspended, maybe expelled.

“…Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

Azzi smiled, relief softening her eyes. “Cool. And, uh—thanks.”

“For what?”

“The compliment.” She grinned. “But we should probably leave before someone walks in.”

Paige’s cheeks warmed. She hoped it didn’t show, but knowing her winter-pale skin, practically translucent in the winter months—it absolutely did.

“Yeah. You right.”

They started walking together, slow at first. Quiet.

Until Paige squinted over at her.

“Wait… don’t you got class right now? I thought you were like, Miss Honor Roll.”

Azzi gave her a side-eye. “I don’t have a class this period. I usually help out around school. Staple stuff, prep club kits, support the special ed classrooms…”

Paige shook her head. “Yo. You’re like… annoyingly perfect.”

Silence.

“I mean,” she fumbled, “not like in a bad way. Just, y’know—like a little fairy princess of academic responsibility.”

“Paige.”

“Yeah?”

“I get it,” Azzi said with a small laugh. “I’ll take it as a compliment. Again.”

Paige grinned. “Good.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs when Azzi stopped and looked toward the side door to the lot.

“You down to maybe…” she jerked her chin toward the exit, “…skip the rest of the day?”

Paige blinked, jaw slack.

“You? Azzi Fudd? Tryna cut school?”

Azzi pushed the door open

Azzi laughed and stepped through the side door, shooting a grin over her shoulder. “Guess you’re a bad influence.”

The sunlight caught her curls just right, making her look like some kind of daydream, and Paige stayed posted up at the top of the stairwell, watching her go like her brain had skipped a beat.

Bad influence. Word.

She shook her head to snap out of it, blinking slow. Her high was still humming loud in her chest, but she remembered—oh right, legs. Gotta move ‘em.

By the time she made it down the stairs and out into the parking lot, Azzi was already halfway across the pavement, walking with that calm, light-footed stride like she’d done this a thousand times. Paige jogged a few steps to catch up, hoodie still half-off, one hand shoved in the pocket like she was just chillin’ and not, y’know, freshly ditching school with the girl who usually carried the whole moral compass of the team.

“This your first time skipping?” Paige asked, settling in next to her, pace casual.

Azzi glanced over, lips pressed into a little smile. “Yeah… first time.”

Paige smirked. “You nervous?”

Azzi shrugged. “A little. But you make it look kind of… fun.”

Paige raised a brow. “Fun? This is elite-tier boredom survival. I skip ‘cause geometry is straight-up brain poison.”

Azzi laughed softly. “You might have a point.”

The air settled into something soft for a second, the daylight beaming on both of them warm and honey like.

“Gimme your phone.”

Azzi stopped mid-step. “What?”

Paige held her hand out, palm up, expression calm but firm. “Your phone. C’mon.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Just trust me.”

“Right.” Azzi gave her a long, skeptical look but didn’t move. “Sounds like the start of a very bad idea.”

Paige kept her hand out. “You said you trusted me. One time. Promise.”

Azzi hesitated. Then sighed and reached into her back pocket, pulling out her phone like she already knew she was gonna regret this. “Alright. Just don’t break it or hack into my Pinterest boards.”

Paige grinned. “Can’t promise anything.”

She took the phone, thumbs already moving. “Password?”

“It’s my birthday. November—”

“I got it,” Paige cut in, casual like she’d cracked military intel.

Azzi blinked. “How did you…? Seriously?”

“I got good memory.” Paige shrugged. “You said it in that interview after the regional tourney last season. Mentioned your birthday fell on a game day.”

Azzi looked at her sideways, not saying anything at first.

“What?” Paige smirked.

“Nothing.” Azzi shook her head, amused. “I don’t even think my brother remembers my birthday.”

“John or José?” Paige asked without missing a beat.

Azzi stopped walking. “Okay, now that’s creepy.”

Paige turned to her, eyes calm but teasing. “I pay attention, Az. Don’t freak out.”

Azzi let out a breath, half-laughing. “Maybe I sold you short, Beuckers.”

Paige grinned. “Bet you did.”

They kept walking, the silence between them feeling more relaxed now, more like… space shared instead of space filled. Then Paige’s face shifted into focus again, thumbs tapping at the screen with quick, practiced confidence.

“Alright,” she said. “When I tap your shoulder, just cough real dramatic. Like you been in bed all week.”

Azzi stared at her. “Excuse me?”

“Cough, Fudd. Trust the system.”

Azzi looked like she wanted to argue again, but then Paige raised the phone to her ear, posture suddenly very official.

“Hello, Hopkins attendance. How can I help you?” a woman’s voice answered.

Azzi’s eyes went wide. Paige shot her a side glance and gently grabbed her wrist to ground her.

“Uh, yes, hello!” Paige started in the most ridiculous fake British accent Azzi had ever heard. “This is Miss Fudd’s nurse, and I’m terribly afraid she’s come down with quite the nasty cold. Poor thing’s barely able to stand.”

Azzi nearly snorted, choking on a laugh she had to bury in her elbow.

“Oh no! I’m sorry to hear that,” the voice replied kindly. “Also, you have the most interesting accent—”

“Yes, yes, I get that all the time,” Paige interrupted smoothly, trying to hold her own laughter back. “But unfortunately, I must be going. Tea’s getting cold, and Miss Fudd needs rest. Take care now, love.” She hung up with a little flourish.

Azzi was staring at her, mouth open in a mix of horror and hysterics. “Did you just—was that a British accent?!”

“Oi, love, mind your tone,” Paige said, still in character for half a beat before she broke and started laughing.

She handed Azzi her phone back like it was nothing.

“Paige, you are—” Azzi laughed, “you’re an idiot.”

Paige shrugged. “A talented idiot.”

Azzi shook her head. “That was insane.”

“You’re off the hook now. You’re welcome.” Paige threw a lazy arm around Azzi’s shoulder for half a second before pulling back, like she didn’t even realize she did it.

Azzi blinked, cheeks warm. “You know you didn’t have to go that hard.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Paige said, eyes twinkling.

They kept walking, the pace slow and unbothered. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had pressed pause—no classes, no pressure, no teammates watching. Just the two of them, skipping school like it was their own private rebellion.

“You ever thought about… not doing this alone?” Azzi asked suddenly.

Paige looked at her. “What you mean?”

“Like,” Azzi tucked a curl behind her ear, “I know we don’t talk much. Or, like… at all. But I could help you. If school’s a lot, if you’re slipping—I could tutor you. I’m serious.”

Paige hesitated, her eyes lingering on Azzi’s face. “Yeah… maybe. I’d like that.”

Azzi smiled, quiet and genuine. “Cool.”

The air between them felt different now. Not heavy. Not awkward. Just... full of possibility.

Paige rubbed the back of her neck, then glanced at her. “When you wanna start?”

“Friday work for you?” Azzi asked, her voice soft. Smile breaking though.

Paige held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded.

“It’s a date.”

———————

Hope you guys enjoyed!! Remember to leave comments and anons!! Let me know how u like this, and thank you for reading! <333

[slasherscream]

She Likes a Boy (And I’m Not Just a Boy)

pairing:  jordan li x fem!reader

summary: You and Jordan are friends with benefits, and Jordan is trying so hard to be okay with that. Somehow, they still fell in love with you despite their best efforts to not fucking do that. But you've only ever fucked them when they're a guy, so they assume you're only interested in them one way. Just like everyone else. You've never said anything to make them think any different so it's obvious, right? So they take what they can get. Which is only half. And they keep you at a distance, because anything else will kill them.

A/N: flashbacks are in all Italics. some smut.

gif credit: artemidosgifs and stannyramirez

“Oh shit, Jordie, wait-” You can’t catch your breath, legs shaking where they’re thrown over Jordan’s shoulders. 

“Stop fucking squirming.” Jordan huffs, licking some of your wetness off your thigh.

Your vision is swimming a little. How long have you been in this position? Or in Jordan’s room? It’s hard to keep track of anything, when you’re with them. His tongue finds your clit again. Insistent, rough swipes. You’re too overworked now for anything gentle to even register. How many times have you cum now? 

“You always taste so fucking good.” Jordan moans, voice hoarse and low.

He puts a hand under your back to press you further into his mouth. With only your shoulders pushed into the mattress you can’t move. Jordan’s eyes are always glued to your face when you fuck. As if he’s daring you to shy away from whatever he’ll do to you next. 

Considering that his favorite thing to do is overstimulate you, you’re not sure the irritation is fair. What are you supposed to do when he’s made you cum four times and is still going? According to Jordan, the answer is simple: lie there and take it. 

Lifting you up. Pinning you down. These are the solutions he’s arrived at. Jordan hates having to chase you just to give you the orgasm you begged him for in the first place. 

“You ready for my fingers again?” Jordan asks, but it’s not a real question, because you don’t get to so much as gasp before he’s plunging three fingers into you again. 

He’s rough as he rocks his fingers into that soft spot inside of you that always makes your eyes roll back into your head. He knows the angle you like him to use by heart. 

“Fucking shit, Jordan!” Your hands fall into his hair, grip like a vice, and Jordan half moans and half laughs against you.

It’s the vibrations that send you over the edge again. The breath leaving your lungs in one rush as that coil inside releases and makes the world go white and your ears ring. 

You come back to yourself slowly. Jordan hovering over you, pressing kisses into the side of your neck. You grasp at his shoulders, pulling him down so that he's laying on top of you. The weight is comforting after the overwhelming head rush. You still feel shaky. He goes down easily, wrapping one arm underneath you.

“I can feel you smirking, jerk.” You laugh weakly, hitting his arm.

“You soaked my fucking fingers. Think I'm allowed a smirk.” Jordan says. 

He lifts his head from your neck and there's that smug look you love to see him wear. It's enough to make you ready to have him all over again. You settle on gently massaging his scalp. 

“I'll tell you what you're allowed.” You tease, grinning at him. 

“Hah! Always have enough energy to be a fucking brat, huh?” Jordan rolls his eyes. 

You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. “I've got enough energy to make out too! Gimme a kiss.”

“Fucking insatiable.” Jordan scoffs, but gives in. Because he always does. 

It's hard to think when Jordan kisses you. He kisses like he doesn't need to breathe. Or be anywhere else but with you. One of his hands finds yours, locking your fingers together. You squeeze tight. Try not to imagine holding his hand like this outside each other's dorms. Because that only ever makes you feel empty afterwards when all the hormones from the orgasms should leave you floating.

You get a third wind when Jordan rocks his hips against yours and you feel he's hard again. You reach a hand between the two of you, grasping his dick to angle him back inside. Thank God for Supe refractory periods. You sigh when his tip pushes into you. 

“Yeah princess? You want me again?” He tries to sound teasing, nonchalant, but he only sounds like he wants you just as bad.

You rock your hips so that he slides inside fully. Watch him tilt his head back and moan for you as you move. Hungrily taking in the way every sound shapes his mouth. You lean up to kiss at the underside of his jaw. You can't leave any hickies on him but you always kiss him like you want to. God you fucking wish you could. Maybe if you could leave marks people wouldn't chase after them so much. If everyone knew Jordan was yours. But Jordan isn't yours. 

You bite him a little harder.

Jordan's hand finds your throat. You whine, the noise strangled against his palm. You go lax as he pushes you back into the bed. Gently. His fingers flex, a little tighter, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“Gonna be good for me?” Jordan asks.

You nod your head frantically, legs dragging him closer. It's never close enough. No matter what you do. 

“Yeah, I'll be good, Jordie.” You say the words he wants to hear, feeling your head go soft and thoughtless again.

“Fucking liar.” He grinds his hips into yours and chokes you harder when you clench around him. 

You’d been fast friends, best friends, since the moment you stepped on campus and met one another as freshman. Talking to Jordan. Spending time with them. Everything that first year didn’t even feel like getting to know one another. It just felt like coming home.

You didn’t say as much to Jordan. They would have rolled their eyes and scoffed at how sensitive you were, if you had. But you knew they felt the same way. You were the one Jordan went to whenever they were sad. When they were excited. When they were coming into themselves, learning to love who they were after a lifetime of everyone else telling them not to. 

You were the first person to see them. Before Brink, even, you saw them. All their potential. All their greatness. All of them, and Jordan had never forgotten that. 

Jordan saw you too, in turn. You’d never felt like much more than a pretty face, before Jordan. 

You were the type of beautiful that made people look twice when they walked past you. When you were a little girl you soaked in all the praise like a flower. Every: ‘she’s so pretty’, and ‘well look at her!’, or ‘oh wow!’ was nourishment to your little soul.

It would be impossible to pinpoint the moment you realized that was all anyone saw. Even once your powers manifested. Advanced healing, advanced reflexes, limited invulnerability, energy manipulation. You were the whole nine yards. Your parents, when you were thirteen, had sent a video of you using your powers off to Vought. 

A man and woman showed up a day later in suits, wanting to meet you personally.

“She sure is a little looker, isn’t she?” The man had said, and he’d held your hand for too long before he let go. 

They’d come prepared. With ideas for costumes. Which team of teenage Supes you should be placed with. If you should just go straight for television. The adults talked around you. Not paying you any mind as you stared at the costume that would reveal so much skin. You’d never worn a skirt that short before. You hadn’t been allowed, hadn’t even wanted to, really. If you’d come home from the mall having bought anything like that on your own, your parents would have blown a fuse. Now they just sat on either side of you, mile wide grins plastered on their faces. 

All the voices faded to background noise. You realized maybe you were too young to be a superhero. You thought it would involve more... saving people. Running into burning buildings. Getting the bad guys. Saving the day. The people from Vought were only talking about magazine spreads. About what persona would fit your look. 

“What about school?” You’d asked, quietly, and everyone in the room had turned to look at you baffled. 

“What about school, sweetheart?” The woman laughed. “You’ll get a private tutor, of course. But your future is big. You won’t even have to worry about stuff like that anymore. Goodbye lame homework. Hello red carpets!” 

You sat very quietly until they left. Your parents were more angry than you’d ever seen them, when you told them you wanted to wait until after high-school to pursue being a hero. 

You knew telling them you weren’t sure you wanted to do it at all was off the table. 

During high-school you noticed people didn’t listen to you. You would be telling someone about your favorite book; or talking about a movie that changed your whole worldview, only to realize the other person had been staring at your lips the entire time. 

You stopped talking so much about things you cared about. No one listened anyways. 

‘Bimbo.’

‘Airhead.’

‘Slut.’ 

Were all things you’d heard before you’d ever gone on your first date. Gotten so much as your first kiss on the cheek. High-school was lonely, and you couldn’t talk about it being lonely without sounding like an asshole, you quickly realized. The few friends you had would roll their eyes when you’d try and vent. You thought it was just playful ribbing. Friends tease each other. It made you feel included! Until you caught them mocking you behind your back to one another.

‘Look at me, I’m Y/N, and life’s so hard because I’m so pretty and popular. Is she fucking serious? Stuck up bitch.’ 

You stopped venting.

When you got to God-U, you weren’t sure what to expect. College was a chance to reinvent yourself. Even if you weren’t sure you wanted to be a Superhero you knew this could be a chance to find your people. Lifelong friends. 

People who you could get coffees with between classes. Who would go to all your birthdays and want to be there. People you would spend hours on the phone with. Fall asleep studying together. Girls who might like you enough to make you their maid of honor. Guys who would high five you when you did something cool and not try to sneak a glance at your chest. 

You were imagining it all as you unpacked your boxes. Your stomach twisting itself into knots. Living in a half world between excitement and dread.

Then you met your roommate and she gave you the look. The look you’d gotten all your life from girls, and you knew you’d never be real friends. Girls who looked at you like that kept their boyfriends away from you at parties. And they never shared the secrets that friends share because they thought you’d put them in a fucking burn book. The look alone almost made you give up and just go home. 

You went for a walk instead, fighting back tears. That’s when you ran into Jordan. Literally, ran into Jordan. You knocked the both of you to the ground. 

When they’d snapped, “What the fuck dude?” at you, harsh and angry and very them, you’d burst into tears. 

It wasn’t the perfect way to meet your person. But you were glad you met them at all. 

 “Stop moving your eyes away from the screen.” Jordan says. 

“I’m not allowed to move my eyes away from the screen?” You laugh.

“No, this part is really important. You have to pay attention. I wanna see if you catch it.” 

You try your best to keep your eyes glued to the screen, as instructed. But you can’t help the way you keep glancing towards Jordan. She looks good. She always looks good, but right now you don’t even want to look away from her. The colors of the movie flashing across her face, blues and golds, make her look like a painting. 

“Are you watching?” Jordan asks, and you smile at the excitement in her voice. 

You look back towards the movie, wondering what she wants you to see so badly. You look just in time. A small detail catches your eyes and you gasp, reaching out a hand blindly to shake her in your own excitement. 

“Did you see that in the background?” You shake her again, for good measure.

“I saw it.” Jordan laughs.

“That means that he killed the wife!” 

“How do you figure?”

You pause the movie, ready to explain where you think the plot is heading. When you turn to face Jordan you have to take a deep breath. You don’t know whether you love or hate that look. Your feelings on the matter change day to day. 

Jordan is leaned up into the arm of the couch, relaxed, and she’s staring at you with The Smile she wears sometimes. She started doing it a few months into your friendship. Back when you used to talk and then slowly stop. So completely sure that nobody wanted to hear what you had to say. 

Jordan had asked you, back then, why you always stopped telling stories halfway through, or stopped talking about your day, or the latest book you’d read. 

You wanted to lie, at first. Eventually you told a half truth, “I never have anything interesting to say.” 

Jordan had looked at you for a long time. You were worried that somehow, up until that moment, they hadn’t realized how boring you were. But you acknowledging it out loud had made them think about it, and now they were going to ditch you for a friend who was interesting, funny, and smart. 

Instead, Jordan had told you that she loved the way your mind worked, and she’d smiled The Smile at you, for the first time. You hadn’t known how to respond, to the words, or the smile. You turned the conversation back towards Brink’s latest class assignment. 

Later that night you’d gone back to your dorm room and cried, but you’d felt happier than you’d ever felt. 

It made you feel warm and soft that three years later Jordan still smiled at you like that. It felt like your cue to say anything on your mind, no matter how dumb. Green light means go. The Smile means talk. 

“Well?” Jordan nudges you with her foot, still smiling, and waiting for you. 

You shake your head to break free of the spell she puts you in, “Well, look at his sense of style for the entire movie. All his stuff is modern and sleek and then the first time we see his bedroom all the rest of the decor is in line with the rest of the house, except that one thing. All the camera shots are so purposeful and they lingered a little, after he walked away. They wanted us to see he was keeping a trophy. He totally killed her, didn’t he?” 

Jordan pauses for a second and then laughs. “I don’t know how you always guess right. I didn’t see the twist coming at all the first time I watched it.”

“Secondary super power.”

“Connecting all the dots?”

“Connecting all the dots, yeah.” 

“Y/N! Y/N, thank fucking god, you gotta come with me.” Cate grabbed you by the arm, rougher than she’d ever touched you before. 

“I was on my way to class.” You tripped over your feet as Cate pulled you the opposite way you needed to go.

“Forget class! Jordan’s gonna get themself expelled.” Cate snapped. 

“What?!” 

“They’re beating the shit out of Peter in the locker room. Luke’s not on campus. I can’t get close enough to stop them-”

You’d broken into a sprint towards the fighting arena. You didn’t know what the hell was happening. Peter and Jordan had spoken maybe ten times to each other in all the years of attending the same university. 

You’d never gotten anywhere so fast in your life. Andre was standing steadfast in front of the entrance to the boy’s locker room, a small group of other students standing outside. You could hear the sounds of fighting pouring out from the door. 

“Back it up you fucking vultures.” Andre snipped. He might not have super strength but he was still Number 4, and could look intimidating when he needed to. 

“Andre, what’s going on?” You pushed to the front of the crowd. 

“Thank fuck Cate found you. You gotta get in there. Jordan’s gonna fucking mur-” Andre glanced at the phones pointed at the both of you, trying to record even a drip of gossip about top students trying to seriously hurt each other and lowered his voice, “Jordan is actually gonna fucking kill Peter. I’ll keep the crowds back. Get in there.” 

You moved past him into the locker room and your jaw dropped at the state of the place. 

You thought these lockers were bolted down. Apparently not. At least four rows of them were knocked to the ground, heavily dented. A water bottle refilling station had been crumpled to nothing, exposed pipe spraying water across the floor.

“Get off of me you fucking animal.” You heard Peter cry from further in the room and ran. 

Jordan had shoved Peter up against the wall. You were surprised Peter was still conscious. He was lucky he healed so fast. You could see his black eye fading even as Jordan broke his nose. 

“You fucking stay away from her. You understand? I hear you fucking talking like that again and I take the tongue out of your fucking mouth, you asshole.” 

Peter laughs through a mouth full of blood,“Not my fault she gave it up so easy, Li-” 

Jordan throws him into one of the last standing lockers and you see that they are indeed bolted into the ground. Evidently, Jordan throws stronger than Supe resistant steel can take. When Jordan moves to lift Peter out of the crater his body made in the downed locker you rush in between them, putting a shield up. 

“Y/N?” You can see some of the anger fade from Jordan’s face, just a little, at the sight of you.

“Hey, Jordie. Think Peter has had enough.”

Jordan scoffs, “No, he really fucking hasn’t,” he leans around you to yell at Peter, who’s trying to push himself onto his knees, “He’s still running his fucking mouth!” 

“Pussy whipped asshole-” Peter groans.

You glance at Peter on the floor, aghast, “Peter! Stop antagonizing, Jordan. What’s wrong with you?” 

“Unbelievable, honestly. You walk in on Jordan kicking my ass and you tell me to stop antagonizing the fucker?” Peter huffs, pushing his nose back into place so it won’t heal wrong. 

“Name calling isn’t gonna make him stop kicking your ass. I’m trying to help.” You shoot back.

“Well, no one needs your help, you dumb-” 

“Hey.” Jordan interrupts. He’s not yelling anymore, but his voice is the loudest thing in the room. “Watch your mouth, Peter. I fucking mean it.” 

You look back and forth between them. They watch each other for a long moment. Jordan looking eerily calm. Peter looks away first. 

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought. Come on, Y/N.” Jordan grabs your hand and marches you out of the locker room. Past Andre and Cate, who try to stop you both but Jordan waves them off and muscles his way past the crowd too. 

He doesn’t stop until you’re back in his dorm room and he’s shut the door behind the two of you. 

“You were fucking that loser?” He asks, clicking the lock into place.    

“You’re lucky Andre and Cate kept people out of the locker room so there’s no video of everything! You could get expelled, Jordan! What the fuck happened?” 

“He hit me first and he’s not even in the top ten. What’s he at? Number 14? No one’ll give a shit what happens to him. When did you start fucking him?”

“I’m not fucking him! Or… I’m not just, fucking him. I’m… I was dating him. Why were you two fighting?” 

“Dating? For how fucking long? You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.” Jordan’s hair is already a disheveled mess. He yanks his fingers through the strands and makes it worse. 

“We’ve been going on dates for like… three months? Kinda? Maybe.” You say quietly. 

“Three months?! Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me? What the fuck?” 

“Why are you so mad?”

“Friends talk to each other about shit like this! And if you’d talked to me, I would have told you that Peter is a clout chasing piece of shit that’ll never amount to anything. You should’ve heard the shit he was saying today. Fucking piece of shit!” 

“That’s why you were fighting?” You wring your hands together, a knot tying itself over and over in your stomach. “What did he say?”

Jordan stops pacing the room, goes still and turns away from you. 

“Well? What did he say? It was bad enough to make you two beat the shit out of each other! So what was it?” 

“He just… You don’t have to worry about it, okay? He won’t go near you again.” Jordan says firmly.

“Whatever he said he’s gonna keep saying. Just behind my back. I should know.”

Jordan sighs and moves to sit beside you on his couch, knee bouncing with anxiety. “He was… bragging to his shitty friends. About being the first guy on campus to fuck you. About how it didn’t even take that long and… how… he was thinking of recording you. So he could show them how slutty you are. It was…. fucking disgusting.” 

“Oh.” You say. 

You swallow around the lump in your throat. You’d done everything you could to avoid something like this happening. Had kept your dates off campus, to make sure he actually wanted to date you and not just the hot girl ranked Number 3. You’d spent nights staying up on the phone laughing and talking. You’d put off sleeping with Peter for a whole two months, even though you liked him, because you wanted to make sure he liked you. 

You hadn’t even let him call you his girlfriend until a few days ago. You thought he really liked you. But no matter how hard you try… you guess this is it. You’re just something pretty to look at. Even Vought doesn’t take you seriously, despite your powers. You’re the top ranked student in everything. Right behind Jordan. Forensic analysis. Combat. Battle strategy. Still, you only ever get asked about makeup routines and how to maintain your figure in interviews. 

You wipe at your burning eyes and try not to cry about something you’ve already accepted. 

“Fuck that guy. Fuck him. He’s so far beneath your level I’m surprised you can perceive his plane of fucking existence, okay? He’s a fucking single cell organism. He doesn’t even know what a brain is.” Jordan gets up from the couch to kneel in front of you, tries to look you in the eyes. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“No, you fucking are not. Don’t say that about yourself. He’s fucking stupid. It’s genuinely insane you even wasted your time with him. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing anyone?” Jordan asks, voice quiet.

“I just…. I wanted to make sure he was actually gonna stick around before I even brought him up to you. You’re so … important, why tell you about someone who isn’t? It’s not like you write home to me about any of the people you mess around with! We’ve never really talked about this kind of stuff.” 

“Yeah, but it’s different. I’m not serious about anyone! You were actually dating, Peter. And I would have told you not to.” Jordan rolls his eyes.

“Well, I wanted to make sure it was serious. Before I even said anything.” 

“It wouldn’t have gotten serious if you’d told me about it in the first place. I wouldn’t have let Peter within ten feet of you!” 

“We’re talking in circles.” You huff in frustration, pressing your palms into your eyes to stop the stinging.

“Sorry, I just…. Fucking still wish I was beating the shit out of him, honestly.” Jordan says.

“You are not leaving this room for the rest of the day, Li. Even if he is Number 14, you can’t walk away from a fight then go back for seconds cause you didn’t get it all out the first time. That won’t hold up too well in court.”

“He heals too fast for there to be any marks left on him. It’ll all be hearsay.” Jordan smirks.  

You let out a weak laugh. Jordan reaches out, touching the corner of your lips. “Can we shoot for something a little bigger? If I don’t see you smile soon I’ll actually go kill him.” 

You roll your eyes and slide to the edge of the couch, so you’re resting your head on Jordan’s shoulder, leaning all your weight against him. He wraps his arms around you, rubbing circles into your spine.

“I really wanted it to work out, Jordan.” You mumble into the skin of his collarbone.

“With fucking Peter?” 

“With… anyone.” Your voice wavers and Jordan’s grip gets tighter. “It’s so fucking lonely. I just want to be someone’s favorite person. Not because of how I look, but because they like me. Really like me. And no one fucking does, no matter how hard I try.” The tears start falling now and Jordan pulls back and makes you look up at him, one hand on your cheek. 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I fucking… I like you. I’ve always liked you.” Jordan says, frantic as he wipes away the tears as they come.

“It’s not the same, Jordan!” You shake your head, and bite your lip. You’d almost said it’s not enough. Because it isn’t. But you can't think about that for too long. It makes the hole in you ache a little worse. 

“Yeah….guess it’s not.” Jordan says quietly. He keeps wiping away the tears, dutiful and gentle as he goes. 

“You said he hit you first?” You ask, after a long moment of him quietly soothing you.

“Come on, I’m not stupid. Had to let him get the first swing in.” Jordan smirked.

“What did you say to make him hit you?” You ask.

“Told him he was lucky you believe in charity work and giving back to the fucking needy.” 

It’s enough to startle a laugh out of you. You smack his arm weakly before pulling him into another hug. He kisses the top of your head so softly you don’t notice it, too busy laughing. 

“Y/N, good to see you dear. You keeping our Jordan out of trouble?” Brink asks as he comes out of his office, not surprised to see you perched on Jordan’s desk. 

“Professor, we both know that I’m the one getting Jordan into trouble.” You flash the older man your most mischievous grin. 

“Ah, my apologies. I assume that means you’re distracting her from doing her work, as well?” Brink raises an eyebrow teasingly. 

“Yes.” You say.

“No.” Jordan protests, at the same time. 

You throw your head back with a laugh. “It’s a goal I hold most dear to my heart, to distract Jordan from grading these papers. I think I’m succeeding wonderfully, you’ll be happy to know, Professor.” 

“She’s joking, Professor.” Jordan smacks your thigh and you glance down just in time to burn the image of her hand on your thigh into your brain. She almost never touches you, when she’s like this. 

“You know, Jordan, I didn’t happen to lose my sense of humor after I hit sixty.” Brink waves off Jordan’s concern and leans towards the two of you, whispering conspiratorially, “I know the gray hair gives the illusion of being a boring old fart, but I do like to laugh every now and then.”

Jordan shakes her head with a small laugh and you can’t help but watch, entranced, at the way her hair brushes the olive skin of her cheeks. When you look back towards Brink you find him already watching you, a knowing smile on his lips. You laugh nervously, and look down at the wood grain texture of Jordan’s desk. It’s suddenly fascinating. Is it real oak? Cherry?

“You close to being done, Jordan?” Brink asks casually. 

“Uh-” Jordan’s face blanches and you suddenly feel genuinely sorry for distracting her from her work. 

“-relax, kiddo. You’re not in trouble. Geez, what am I, a work nazi? Those papers don’t need to be graded for another four days, right? You work too hard. I was just asking cause’ I was getting a little hungry myself and wanted to know if you could use a break? There’s a great new Indian place nearby, apparently. Professor. Karp was telling me about it yesterday. It’s only a twenty minute ride away. Wanna tag along?” 

“I should probably finish up a few more papers-” 

“She would love to take a break, Professor.” You reach over, saving the work Jordan’s done and shutting down her laptop at lightning speed. 

“Brat.” Jordan mouths the word at you quickly, so Brink won’t see. 

You stick your tongue out at her, not caring if anyone sees. 

“You should come along too, Y/N. Been awhile since we last caught up.” Brink has a twinkle in his eye that you can’t quite place.

You slide off Jordan’s desk anyways, not willing to pass up any valuable Time Spent With Jordan, “I’m not sure if I trust Professor Karp’s recommendation on restaurants, but I’ll try and be very brave about it if the food is awful.”

“Jordan, have I ever told you how much I love this girl?” Professor Brink shrugs on his coat with a laugh. 

“Yeah.” Jordan watches Brink help you into your own coat with a small smile. “Yeah, Professor you have.” 

“Fucking fuck me!” Jordan throws her phone onto the coffee table in front of her.

“Are the parental units being emotional terrorists again?” You ask from your spot on her bed, turning the page of your textbook, mindlessly highlighting another sentence that could be important for the upcoming final. 

“No, it’s just the whole fucking roster is busy.” Jordan roughly runs a hand through her hair, disheveling her bob. 

“Huh?” You look up from your notes.

“The whole roster is locked in for finals but I really need to let off some fucking steam!” Jordan sighs.

“How big is the roster?” You try to sound curious, like a best friend would be, and not irritated, like someone in love with their best friend would be. 

“Too big for me to not be fucking someone right now.” Jordan snips. 

“We are studying right now. Or I’m studying, and you should be studying too, instead of thinking about needing to get your rocks off.” You say coolly, flipping to the next page. 

“I can’t fucking focus.” Jordan groans, but comes back over to the bed and flops down beside you, throwing her arm over her eyes. “What concept are we on now?” 

“Theories on limiting public and private property damage in fights with other Supes.”

“There is no fucking way I can focus on something that fucking boring without having an orgasm first.”Jordan groans, again, “It’s not even about limiting loss of human life or injury?”

“Nope. Property damage.” 

“Fuck me!” 

You both fall into silence. You studying. Jordan, you assume, weighing the pros and cons of downloading Tinder. The thought makes your stomach drop.

Then you get an idea. An awful, horrible, no good, rotten fucking idea. 

Your mouth is opening before you can stop yourself, “You could fuck me.”

“Huh?” You’ve never seen Jordan sit up so fast.

“I just mean- … we really gotta focus and I... I mean if you just need to let off some steam we could always…” You try your best to fumble your way into proper usage of the English language but even the thought of fucking Jordan makes that impossible. 

“Are you serious right now?” Jordan shifts halfway through the sentence, eyes glued to your every nervous, jittery movement as you sit in front of him.

“Wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t a real offer.” You say quietly, not looking up from the book. 

Jordan snatches said book from your lap and tosses it away, ignoring your noise of protest. “You don’t think it’d make things weird?” 

“Weird was when I had to take you to get your wisdom teeth removed and you kept saying the green man was gonna get us while you were still high off the good stuff. Sex is just sex, right?” You try to say it casually. 

“Would… would it be a one time thing?” Jordan asks slowly.  

“It could be more… we could be-” You say, equally as slow. 

“- could be?” Jordan echoes, voice sounding oddly tight and expression carefully blank.

The look is so strange it makes you panic, and if you’d thought of saying something stupid and desperate for one second like ‘a couple’, well, that look on his face is more than enough to send you straight back to reality on the ‘my-life-fucking-sucks’ express in no time flat.

“We could be like friends with benefits!” You blurt out in one breath. 

“Oh.” Jordan says. 

“It was just an idea.” You reach for the textbook again, which landed near Jordan’s thigh. You’re careful not to touch him when you grab it, or sound too disappointed, or heartbroken at the completely lackluster reaction Jordan has to the thought of having sex with you. “A stupid idea, forget it.”

“Why’s it stupid?” Jordan’s brow furrows, tone teetering on the edge of defensive. 

“I mean…” You can’t think of a reason fast enough. “We’re probably sexually incompatible.” 

“Why do you assume that?” Jordan goes from staring at you, to glaring at you. 

You’ve always hated how once Jordan latches on to a line of questioning, you can’t get them to drop that interrogation for shit. A dog with a bone has nothing on a Jordan who wants an answer.

“I don’t… know?” You say, but it sounds like a question. 

“I think we’d be compatible.” Jordan states this like he’d state the sky is blue or water is wet. 

“Have you thought about it before?” You ask, bewildered. 

“What, are you into something really kinky?” Jordan answers your previous question not at all.

“No!” There goes that nervous body language of yours again. 

“Only way to really know if we’re sexually compatible is to actually try it out.” Suddenly, Jordan is within your personal space bubble. 

You don’t really know how to react, your body freezes up on instinct. Jordan’s hand comes up to rub soothing circles into the crook of your elbow. Your shoulders fall away from your ears.

“Can I kiss you?” Jordan’s voice is quiet, soft as he tilts his head to knock his nose against yours. Playful, teasing. But the look on his face is something you can’t place at all. 

You feel his breath on your lips and nod absentmindedly. 

“Don’t want you to nod when I ask you a question like this. Yes or no, Y/N?” 

“Ye-” The words not fully out of your mouth before Jordan is kissing you, a heavy hand pulling you closer by the nape of your neck. 

You pull yourself into Jordan’s lap and try to focus on how good it feels when he nips at your bottom lip, instead of how much you wished you’d asked him to be your boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. Everything. Even if he’d said no, at least then you would have had an answer. Now you’ve only made your life harder. 

You stop thinking so much when Jordan puts a hand on your hip and guides you to grind yourself against him. 

“Y/N’s right.” Jordan mutters, not looking up from his phone. 

“No, she is not. You’re just agreeing with her because that’s your default factory setting. Listen to the context of the argument please.” Andre snaps, drowning his Vought Triple meat burger in ketchup.

“I did. Your grim dark theory on children’s media is lame, and Y/N knows more about the Monster’s Inc universe than you ever will.” Jordan shrugs.

“Hah!” You laugh in Andre’s face.

“Is it really such a flex to be an expert on the lore of a Pixar movie universe?” Cate asks teasingly. 

“Yes.” You say. 

“No.” Andre says, like a sore loser.  

“I agree with Y/N, it’s literally in the explicit text of the movie, Monsters Inc isn’t a post-apocalyptic world. It’s a separate dimension from ours. The monsters come to our dimension to harvest screams of children to get clean, scream energy. God, Andre, pay attention during movie night.” Luke jumps in on the tormenting Andre train, grinning wildly at the other man from across the table. He gets a middle finger for his troubles. 

“I’m glad someone pays attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You sniff haughtily. 

“I literally agreed with you first.” Jordan looks at you from over the top of her phone in a way that makes you blush. 

“I’m glad two people are paying attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You clear your throat. 

“Thank you.” Jordan’s intense brown eyes fall away from you and you take a gulp of your drink. 

“Bathroom alert, Y/N. A stall just opened up.” Cate tells you pointing to the bathroom door right as another girl exits. 

“I am kissing you on the lips, telepathically.” You say, sliding from the booth you’re all sharing.

“Don’t you telepathically lip lock with my girlfriend.” Luke calls after you, laughing.

“Get some powers of telepathy yourself and make me, fire boy.” You enter the bathroom, shutting out the sounds of laughter from your table with a smile. 

You take the biggest stall at the back and try to go about your business quickly. You hear two faucets turn on, someone washing their hands, and try not to get pee shy. 

“So how was it?” A monotone voice asks, you assume one of the hand washers.

“You know I don’t usually kiss and tell, but it was insane.” A higher, more giggly voice answers. 

“So they really are good in bed then, huh?” The monotone voice sounds a little more curious. 

“Incredible. All the rumors are true. They’re a little… uh, brusque, about the after sex part, if I’m putting it lightly, but the sex itself was great!” The high voice chirps. 

“What? Did they throw you a towel and tell you to kick rocks?” The monotone voice asks. 

“Pretty much.” The high voice sighs. “But they made me cum so many times I think I’d still pick up if they called me again. You think they might?” 

“I say this with all the love in the world: girl stand up.” Monotone voice drawls. 

“You wouldn’t be telling me that if you knew how good it felt to sit on her face.” High voice says.

You stifle a laugh, trying not to get caught eavesdropping, but with Supe hearing it really is hard to mind your own business. Besides, they’re not being that quiet about the conversation anyways. 

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Or you could experience it for yourself. They were just as good as a boy as they were as a girl. Maybe better. I dunno. She was more aggressive as a girl, which was kinda hot.” 

“Jordan Li, pussy eating extraordinaire. Can we go now? Our food is probably ready.” Monotone voice sighs. 

“Fine, but I’m telling you, the things they can do with a strap are-” 

The voices fade away with the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing. 

You find you don’t really want to finish eating your food, when you get back to the table. You spend the rest of lunch trying your best not to look at Jordan, and also ignoring Cate’s concerned gaze boring into the side of your skull. 

You pretend to be sick to avoid having to face the reality of Jordan being more than happy to touch other girls as a girl. They just don’t want to touch you when they’re a girl. You wonder what about you is so uniquely off putting. You wonder why it can’t be you. Why can’t it ever fucking be you? 

Jordan barges into your room on day three of the silent treatment that you told the group chat was due to a raging fever. 

Luckily your eyes, swollen shut from all the crying, and the red nose to match, corroborate the story. 

“We got it all. We’ve got tissues. We got soup. We got pain meds. We got liquid meds. We also have all the ingredients for a hot toddy, if you want to mix your poisons a little.” Jordan begins to unpack everything onto your counter. 

“I don’t want to take anything.” You say morosely, and a little mean, kind of wanting to hate them but just feeling sad. Jordan’s your best friend before anything else, and you could never hate your first real friend. 

“Come on, just a little something. You sound fucked up.” Jordan practically coos, touching your forehead. “Feels like your fever’s gone down a little. Sit up for me.” He says, and pulls you to sit up when you don’t do it on your own.  

“I don’t want to fucking-” Jordan puts two pills in your mouth as soon as you open it to bitch at him. He hands you water to help you swallow it down. 

“Thanks for that. That was really fun for me.” You snap once you’re done.

“It’s for pain and should bring down the rest of your fever.” Jordan lays you back down, tucking the covers all the way up to your chin. You marvel at the way he doesn’t rise to the bait of your very clear attitude. Jordan, catching the look on your face offers you a small glare. “I’m worried. You usually don’t get sick. I’ll check that attitude when you’re better. Now, do you want the damn hot toddy or not?” He rubs your head soothingly.

“Yes, please.” You try not to pout as you watch Jordan make the drink for you. You really hate how hard it is to hate them. “Sorry, Jordie.” 

“Oh, you can go ahead and save that apology for when I make you cry into your pillow, yeah?” Jordan doesn’t even look up from measuring the ingredients.

You pull the covers over your head and leave them there until Jordan pulls them back down. 

You almost hadn’t come to the party. 

You weren’t in a partying mood, as of late. You were in more of a Shakespearean pining era than a City Girls one. But the group had bullied you in the group chat for a week straight until you’d promised to come. The group bullying hadn’t worked so much as Jordan asking you one single time to go had.

So here you were. 

You’d been nursing one drink for the better part of an hour and hadn’t done a single line of cocaine. Jordan had offered you some, but the line had already been placed on the back of his hand. You politely declined, much to his confusion. You only ever did hard drugs with Jordan, and only at big rager parties like this one. 

At the moment you’re nearly sober. Because you didn’t so much as want to touch Jordan right now. Let alone do something like snort a line off of him. Then you’d have to do something like lick the residue off his skin. Which would lead to kissing him. Which would lead to making out with him. Which would lead to fucking him. 

And you think, for the sake of your sanity, you need to be done fucking Jordan Li. 

It’s been about three weeks since you were “sick” and you’d dodged every attempt at getting physical that Jordan tried to initiate since. At first you were able to pass it off as still feeling icky. That excuse worked for a week. Now, you didn’t hang out alone with them and pretended not to see Jordan’s ‘you up?’ texts until morning. 

Your friendship just needs a hard reset. This time spent not having sex will do it. 

Besides, it’s not like Jordan isn’t swimming in fucking choices. What does it matter if you’re one less body off the menu? There are plenty of hot girls at this school. Jordan’s probably already fucked half of them.

You throw back the rest of the drink you’ve been nursing all at once.

“Are you okay?” Cate puts a hand on your arm and you offer her a blinding, completely fake smile. 

“Yeah!” You say, as chipper as possible.

“Jesus christ.” Cate replies, face going all sad and concerned. “What did Jordan do?” 

“Huh?” You blink, confused.

“You are the most pissed off I’ve ever seen you. What did Jordan do? You’ve been avoiding them for like two weeks. What gives?” Cate pulls you closer by the arm so that she doesn’t have to shout over the music. 

“Nothing!” 

“Can you try to lie again but do it better, this time?” Cate frowns.

“Jesus Christ, does everything have to be about Jordan? Must my whole entire goddamn life revolve around Jordan Li?” You snap, the way someone who isn’t mad about anything does.  

“Okay.” Cate says slowly. Like she’s trying to placate a wild animal. 

The tone alone makes you roll your eyes and move to disappear back in the crowd of drunk twenty-somethings. But she firms her grip on you, the leather of her glove digging into your skin. 

“Y/N-”

“I’m fine, Cate. I just have to get over it.” 

“Get over what?” Cate narrows her eyes at you. That shrewd look she sometimes wears when she knows something before someone else falls onto her face. 

You wonder if you’re completely transparent about your pining or if Cate missed a dose of her medication. Is she starting to hear the buzzing of your frantic, angry, miserable thoughts? Or is she just naturally perceptive? 

“So, this is where the real party is hiding!” An arm is thrown around your shoulders suddenly and you are careful not to sigh, because Jordan may not be as perceptive as Cate, but they’re pretty damn close. Especially when it comes to you. 

You’ve never moved away from them holding you close like this before, so you can’t do it now. You try to just be still. Don’t lean into his warmth, but don’t cringe away either. You probably used to melt against him, when he touched you. Pathetically. Desperately. A sunflower following rays of light across the sky. 

“-Princess?” Jordan gives you a gentle shake and your head snaps to the side to look at him. “You okay?”

“Yup!” Apparently, you didn’t say that convincingly because he starts to scowl at you. Surprisingly enough, the thought of withstanding a Jordan interrogation does not make you want to be at this party for much longer. “I’m gonna head out, though.” 

“What?!” Twin exclamations of confusion form Jordan and Cate both.

“Not feeling it. I think I need to get some more sleep. I got a headache, or… something.” You shrug.

“Or something?” Jordan echoes.

“You are not going anywhere, yet, dear friend.” Andre throws his own arm around you, appearing from thin air, and tugging you away from Jordan. You’ve never been more grateful to him. 

“How do you figure that?” You laugh.

“We’re about to play truth or dare in the other room and you dodged playing last time. You can leave after you’ve played. You can’t get known as the truth or dare dodger.” Andre says. 

“You say that as if being a party game dodger is like being known for dodging the Vietnam draft.” You snort.

“No, it’s worse. People that dodged the Vietnam drafts are heroes. Truth or dare dodgers are cowards. Come on.” Andre begins to drag you towards the other room and you go along with minimal dragging of your feet across the floor. 

The room is crowded, but all the faces are familiar. They’re all within the top twenty, or the groupies that hang around everyone in the top twenty. You pull Andre across the room to a spot on a raggedy couch you have to squeeze the both of you into. No room for Jordan, who you want to avoid. Or Cate, who is too fucking perceptive. 

You wish you’d grabbed another drink for yourself. Jordan winds up across the room from you, in an optimal position for trying to catch your eye and give you a concerned look every ten seconds. 

This does not make Truth or Dare more fun to watch. 

Vulgar dare from one classmate to another. Forcing someone else to admit an uncomfortable truth. One humiliation after the other. Pick your poison on whether you want to debase yourself through the damnation of your own words or a physical act. All challenges of self-mortification being doled out by people who secretly don’t like each other very much, but all call each other friends anyways. 

“Earth to Y/N the space cadet.” The girl sitting next to you gives you a playful shove. You try not to glare at her. Her name escapes you. You think she hangs around with number 6. Or something. 

“What?”

“Cate picked you. Truth or dare.” She says the words ominously, causing teasing jeering to rise from the entire group. 

“Well, Y/N, what’s it gonna be?” Cate raises her eyebrow at you challengingly. 

“She doesn’t have to play if she doesn’t want to, guys.” Jordan rolls his eyes.

“Dare.” You say, wanting to get this over with. 

The room erupts into excited noise. You don’t know why. Cate, of all people, would never force you to do anything humiliating. Or truly scandalous. It’s why you trust her enough to say dare, instead of truth. But you never pick dare, because anyone else would abuse the power. Everyone looks too eager to see Number 3 do something embarrassing. 

As if Cate isn’t your closest friend beside Jordan. As if she’d abuse the trust you place in her. It makes you sick. You don’t wanna be here. At this party, or at this stupid fucking school.

“I dare you…. to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.” 

“What?!” Jordan turns to give Cate the nastiest, most disgusted glare you’ve ever seen.

“She doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to. You know I’m all about consent.” Cate shrugs innocently, crossing her legs together and giving you a smirk. 

You sit for a second, contemplating your next move. There are plenty of pretty girls at this party. In this room. If nothing else, the top twenty and their groupies are photogenic (hell, some of them are only in the top twenty because of their looks to begin with. You hope you’re not one of those.) But there’s only one girl you want to kiss at this party. 

There’s only one person in the world you want to kiss at all. 

You take a shaky breath, feeling like the walls are closing in. Andre nudges you subtly, catches your eye, as if to say: ‘you okay?’ but there’s something else in the look too. Something that says it’s not just Cate, who knows. Probably your whole friend group knows how you feel. Probably the whole school. Probably anyone but Jordan sees it. And Jordan probably does see it, because they’re too fucking smart not to, and they’re choosing to ignore it. Because it’s easier that way. Because your feelings are probably too inconvenient. Because you’re not their type. Because you’re clingy, and stupid, and not good enough- 

You stand up. The room is a wall of noise, and smell and sound pressing in on you. You see Cate smirk. You see Jordan looking away. You see every girl in the room sit up straight. Delusional, if they think any of them could ever be anything, compared to Jordan. 

You walk past every other girl in the room, and stand in front of Jordan, who still isn’t looking.

You kick his ankle with the toe of your heel, to get him to look at you. His head snaps around, the curls of his hair sticking to his forehead, and he looks comically confused. And it’s really too fucking much, for someone as smart as Jordan to look so confused. So fucking baffled, about what’s happening here. But it’s a pretty convincing act. That only makes you more angry. 

You make an impatient motion with your hand. A ‘do it already’ movement of your wrist. The same way you’d crossly signal for another driver to go first at a fucking four way stop. 

He just blinks up at you, owlish. 

"Well? Are you gonna let me kiss the prettiest girl at this fucking school or what, Li?" The room has gone a little quiet, or maybe the blood is rushing in your ears so bad everything is quiet in comparison. 

Jordan stares up at you for a moment longer than is comfortable. And you really start to feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you. You don’t let yourself shy away from the attention. Not Jordan’s, not anyone else’s. You straighten your spine and look down your nose at him, and tap your foot. Try to look like the mean girl everyone expects you to be because no one cares who you actually are. 

As if you could care less if Jordan leaves you stranded right now. As if it will be their loss, if they don’t kiss you, instead of the worst moment of your entire life. 

Jordan shifts. 

You try not to think of how desperate you must look, when you reach out at a speed that isn’t human to hold her face and angle it up, so you can finally fucking kiss the girl you love. 

You wish you could kiss her like it didn’t mean anything. Like she’s nothing. Like you hate her. But you don’t know if this is the only time you’ll ever get to kiss Jordan when she’s your girl, and not your boy. This might be the last time you kiss Jordan ever. 

It has to be. 

You close your eyes tight. Try to ignore the way they’re stinging. You kiss Jordan slow and tender. The way you’ve always wanted to. You tangle a hand in her hair, to bring her closer. You try not to marvel at the way the longer strands tangle in your fingertips. She gasps against you, and her hands find your waist and you are too sober to cry over Jordan touching your waist above your clothes. Like a fucking middle-schooler. 

But the tears start falling anyways. You let out a quiet sob against her lips that you try your hardest to stifle, and Jordan may not have kissed you like this before. But she’s kissed you plenty. She pulls back, startled, like an animal. Big brown eyes full of concern. 

And the spell is broken, and you are standing in front of about thirty of the world’s worst, most unsympathetic human beings, crying, because you kissed your best friend who doesn’t want you back. 

You’ve got ten seconds to leave before someone pulls out their phone and records you. If they haven’t already started. 

So you run.

Through your tears the layout of the house becomes unfamiliar. You try to hide your face a little, and hope people don’t recognize you as you pass them by, sobbing openly. 

Years of pent up feelings are bubbling out of you. The relief. The grief. The way you hate yourself for falling in love with the only person who has ever loved you. Wondering why you couldn’t just be grateful for the kindest, most understanding friendship you never even thought yourself worthy of. Why couldn’t that have been enough? 

Why did you fall in love with them? 

A hand closes around your wrist and you try to yank yourself away but you’re pulled into a bathroom and the door slams shut behind you. 

You wipe your eyes so you can see who’s tried to save you from embarrassing yourself any further. 

It’s Jordan. Because of course it is.

You burst into tears again. 

“Are you fucking drunk? What the fuck was that? Y/N what the fuck is happening right now?” Jordan sounds on the verge of a mental break. 

She’s probably wondering what type of things people are gonna start saying about the two of you on social media. She’s probably mad at you for giving her a PR mess to clean up. 

“I’m not drunk!” You protest, sounding a little like someone who might be drunk. 

“Are you high? What did you take? Lemme see your pupils.” Jordan reaches out to grab your face and you swat her hand away. 

“No one fucking drugged me, Jordan. I’m just a stupid fucking idiot who’s in love with you! There! Are you happy?! Why don’t you go laugh at me with one of your stupid fucking girlfriends. You’ve got so fucking many of them.” You wail, sinking down to the floor, and hiding your face in your arms. 

The room goes quiet, besides the sound of you crying. Loudly. You think you might be having an anxiety attack. You can’t breathe right. But maybe that’s just from the heaving, toddler-like sobs. 

“You’re in love with me?” Jordan asks, quietly. 

“As if you don’t know!” You snap your head up to glare at her. She kneels down in front of you, and puts her hand on your knee and you try not to get distracted by how pretty she is. “I follow you around like a puppy dog. Like your little shadow. And everyone notices except for you, because you don’t want to notice, because you don’t fucking want me. I got the message, Jordan. I got it!” 

“What message?!” Jordan grabs you by the shoulders, voice fraying at the edges, and looks like she wants to shake you.

“You don’t touch me!” Your voice raises to the edge of a yell, and the sound of it echoes in the small room. 

“What are you fucking talking about-”

“-don’t be cute, Jordan. You don’t touch me when you’re a girl! I thought… I thought it was maybe just that you didn’t touch girls when you’re a girl but it isn’t. Apparently you have plenty of fucking girls that you touch and fuck, when you’re a girl. It’s just me, that you don’t! What’s so fucking bad about me? Huh? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?” You demand.

You think you might sound like an insane person, and you wish you could pull the words back in but the hurt is bubbling out. A river relishing that first burst of freedom when a dam breaks, no matter how much damage it causes. 

Jordan is staring at you like you’ve grown two heads. Mouth agape. You wish you were dead, a little.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jordie.” Your voice goes small, and you sniffle. “I really tried to stop. But I can’t, I love you. I’ve probably loved you from that very first day. Because you’re wonderful, you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met and I don’t know how anyone…” You trail off, fanning at your eyes to try and pull yourself together. “...I don’t know how everyone else knows you without being in love with you. I wish I wasn’t in love with you, please don’t be mad, please don’t fucking-” You sob, again. 

You find yourself pulled into Jordan’s lap this time. It’s a foreign feeling, to be touching so much of Jordan when she’s like this. You bury your face into her neck and cry, and let her black hair block out the fluorescent lighting. She shushes you, cheek pressing against the side of your head, and that’s familiar. The way she soothes you. Your hands wrinkle the fabric of her jacket, clinging to her tightly. 

“I’m sorry. I can get over it, I promise. I just needed to tell you. I’ve never kept anything from you before. It was killing me, but I can get over it, Jordie, I promise-” 

“Hey, hey, hey, no-” Jordan’s turning you to look at her suddenly. “Don’t fucking… I’m not… I’m not mad at you or fucking… gonna leave you, Y/N. What the fuck? I love you.”

You could start crying from the relief of hearing those words come from her lips again. You thought she wouldn’t ever speak to you again. She grabs you by the chin and kisses you, hard, your teeth clink together and your noses mush and you go completely still and frozen, like a scared deer. 

“I could see the words not fucking register in your brain the way I meant them. I am in love with you. Romantically.” Jordan barely pulls away, you feel her lips brush against yours, every other word. 

“What?” 

Jordan laughs, “Good, now you’re just as confused as I fucking was. Why the fuck wouldn’t I want you? I’ve always wanted you. You’re…you.” 

“I’m me?” You echo. 

“I didn’t…. I didn’t want to make you feel… like everyone else has. Like I was just fucking waiting around for a chance to date you. Or fuck you. As if your friendship doesn’t fucking matter. Or was a consolation prize, if I couldn’t get you to date me. It isn’t a consolation prize. It’s the most important thing to me in the fucking world.” Jordan laughs, and the sound is suspiciously choked up. 

“Oh.” You say, and are crying. Again. Jordan laughs and wipes the tears away with her thumb. 

“But what about when we started having sex? You still… never touched me when you’re like this.” 

“You’ve never said anything about liking girls.” Jordan says quietly.

“You’re not just a girl. You’re the girl. And guy. ” You say, holding her hand against your face and kissing her palm fiercely. She laughs again, and puts her forehead against yours. 

“So what? I’m the one girl you’re into?” Jordan raises a brow and doesn’t look very happy saying the words, oddly enough. 

You tilt your head trying to puzzle out why, slowly, you arrive at a conclusion. “I literally talk about girls all the time.” 

“When?!” 

“I’m constantly pointing out pretty ones!” You snap. 

“I thought you were just being sweet!” Jordan snaps back. 

You close your eyes and breathe in the smell of her cologne. 

“You make me so angry I don’t know how to think.” You say, and kiss her bottom lip softly. “You’re not an… experiment, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re the…” You trail off, realizing this is not one of your romantic daydreams where you’ve thought of the words you’d tell Jordan over and over again. 

In real life you can’t tell people that they’re the love of your life if you aren’t their girlfriend. Unless you want to look crazy.

Jordan, who is your best friend, before she’s anything else, melts. Because she knows you well enough to know what you aren’t saying.

“Yeah.” Jordan nods, sniffling once and trying to look very tough even though her lip is quivering a little. “I… I love you too. Or whatever.” 

“If it makes you feel better I’ve slept with other women before, to make sure I wasn’t just in love with you.” 

“Weird fucking thing to tell me after I say I love you, but go off.” She glares at you. 

“I think you could do with feeling a little jealous. Why am I hearing stories about how good you are at fucking other women while I’m trying to piss at Vought Burger in peace?” 

“What?” Jordan’s brow furrows. 

“Three weeks ago I heard-”

“-I fucking knew you’ve been mad at me!” Jordan grabs your waist, pulling you closer.

“You would have been pissed too, if you heard the shit I was hearing!” 

“If I hear anyone talking about fucking you ever again I’m going to go to prison.”

“Hot.” 

“Shut up and be my girlfriend.”

“Shut up and be my everything.” 

“You’re gross.” But she kisses you, and it’s gentle, and no one else is there to see it. 

And it’s perfect.

A/N: this is my first time doing full on smut for a fic! it beat me the fuck up. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. and this fic took too damn long to write. xoxoxo

[heavyhitterheaux]

IDGAF (NSFW)

See Me Through You Series

I don't care right now (I don't give a fuck)

Pull your hair right now (come here)

Tryna beat it right now (she like)

But you know I got a man

Synopsis: Joe has no more fucks to give and is tired of him not having the title of being your boyfriend

Warnings: mentions of dv

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

After Joe had told you that he knew that you loved him instead of Trevor, you stood there speechless.

One thing you weren't about to do was tell him that he was wrong.

His eyes never left yours as he waited for you to say something. When you didn't, he knew that it had to be up to him to at least try to pull a response out of you.

“Look, Y/N, if you go back to him, fine. I can't stop you, but I do need to tell you one thing.” He told you as he grabbed your left hand to hold it while the other one was holding onto the bouquet of flowers that he had gifted you.

“What's that?” You asked him not knowing that you had absentmindedly squeezed his hand tighter.

“You’re making a mistake and hopefully you realize that before you get hurt again because I know that at this point, it's bound to happen.” Joe said as he was not holding back how he felt about the entire situation.

Now the question was why did Trevor have such a strong hold on you?

“Joey, I promise that you don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine.” You said while trying to reassure him, but knew for a fact that more than likely it was not working in your favor.

“And who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself? Do you also not realize how much your brother worries about you too? From what I've seen and heard about him, he is not a good person. Especially not to you. Did you forget him leaving actual marks on your wrist while we were at that party and you were trying to get away from him? What do you think would have happened if I wasn’t there to get you away from him?”

“I wish that people would just stop acting like they know what's best for me.” You breathed out, frustrated about being hit from all different angles.

Joe, Ja'Marr, Erin, and Alisha.

Even your parents thought that you had broken up with him a while ago because that's what Ja'Marr told them when he knew that Joe had eyes for you.

“Bam Bam! Why did dad just say he was relieved that I finally broke up with Trevor!? And that you had told them?! Didn’t realize my life was a soap opera to you!”

“I just uh predicted the future. Now you're not going to make me look like a liar to mom and dad, right?”

“I should beat your ass right now.”

“I mean…. You have someone who likes you that I know will treat you right. He's literally just waiting for Trevor to get out of his rightful spot.”

“JA'MARR! Who are you talking about!?”

“Pebbles, don't be dumb. I'm talking about Joe, obviously. I see the type of person he is and that's someone I want for my sister.”

The relief that was evident on their faces let you know that he was not ever going to have approval from anyone that was a part of your life.

As soon as those words left your mouth, Joe wasted no time responding to you.

“Oh so you think this is what a healthy relationship between two people looks like? And someone obviously needs to because you definitely can't do it yourself.”

“Just like you said before, if I go back to him, it really isn't any of your business or anyone else's for that matter. Let's keep it that way because I am done with this conversation.”

“If that's what you want then okay. I won't say anything else about it. And to add to that I'll keep my distance because you're right. You shouldn't be spending more time with another man that isn't your boyfriend and I guess he probably feels like I stepped on his toes enough. But he won't have to worry about that anymore.” He told you as he sighed and held up his hands in defense, losing the warmth that he had been getting from holding your hand.

“Wait…” You started to say, but Joe shook his head at you.

“No, this is what you wanted so this is how it's going to be from now on.”

“Joey, I didn't mean…”

“Didn't mean what? You love me but your ass is crawling back to him as he begs for forgiveness as usual after doing the bare minimum? Actually, he doesn't even do that. I'm not about to compete with anyone who I feel isn't even on my level to compete with me in the first place. I'll see you at the game if you're coming later. Probably not the best idea to wear my jersey since we can't have Trevor seeing it.”

Now it was apparent that Joe was more than pissed off with you.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I need to head back to my apartment to start to get ready anyway. But for the record….” He trailed off and you tried to grab his hand, but he immediately moved away.

“For the record what?”

“I love you too. So do what you will with that information.”

That's the last thing Joe told you before he turned away from you before he walked back to meet up with Justin and Ja'Marr.

Later that day in the afternoon, you were sitting next to Alisha and Erin in the student section of the stadium waiting for the game to start. After the conversation between the two of you earlier in the day, you honestly didn’t feel like going, but decided to anyway.

Even though Joe was mad at you, you had already promised him last week that you would wear his jersey to the game and didn't care who saw it at this point.

You were going to support your friend.

Your friend that you were in love with and he was in love with you however that was a whole nother discussion.

“You look good in your future husband's jersey.” Erin teased while Alisha laughed before taking a bite of her hot dog.

“He’s a little mad at me right now so hopefully seeing me in it will make it a little bit better.” You said as you turned to look at her.

“Well he can't be but so mad at you since he is literally making his way over here.” Alisha told you as you turned around to see that she was indeed correct.

The three of you were on the first row in the middle so that you would have the best view. In order to get these seats, all three of you made sure to get to the stadium early. When Joe finally reached you, he had an expression on his face that you couldn't quite read and you were the first one to speak.

“Surprised to see me?” You asked and he nodded.

“A little bit, but I know you. A promise is a promise and you said that you would be here. You aren't one to back out of something so easily.”

“Hmm, true. Are you still mad at me?” You quietly asked and Joe simply shrugged.

“Seeing you in my jersey is making me less mad if that helps. If you were my girlfriend, after tonight when I won I would be able to take it off of you. But I know my opportunity is coming.”

“I…” You started to say as you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Oh, that’s right. We established boundaries today and I promised that I would back off. It's kind of hard, but I just have to deal with it.”

“Joey….”

“Bold move though wearing it considering anybody could see it, including him. We both know that he already doesn’t like me. Think he'd be mad if I kissed you right now? In front of all these people? Letting the entire world know that you belong to me and only me even if you aren't ready to admit it yet.” Joe whispered as he leaned closer to you. Joe had spotted Trevor in the stands a few rows up and sent a small smile his way which led to Trevor glaring at him. You still had yet to notice that he was there which Joe was going to take advantage of.

When you were quiet, Joe laughed as he broke the silence.

“Let’s find out.”

He lightly grabbed your face and moved you closer to him so he could place a kiss on your cheek that was dangerously close to your mouth.

If you would have moved less than one centimeter, he would have planted that kiss on your lips.

“We'll talk later.” He told you while pinching your cheek and you simply nodded. This was the second time today that he had left you speechless.

“Have a good game, Joey.”

“It already is a good game, because you're here.” He replied as he winked at you.

He made his way back over to the sideline while Erin and Alisha were grinning from ear to ear as you turned around to look at both of them.

“I seriously wish yall would just fuck already. It would literally solve so many problems. He would take you on the fifty yard line if he could.”

“ERIN!”

“I’m just saying. I am literally waiting for the wedding invite. I wonder if you two will get married here or have a destination wedding? I can start looking up places.”

“What am I going to do with you?” You asked her, but also couldn’t help but to laugh at the same time.

What you didn't see was Trevor fuming behind you. He had seen the entire interaction and planned to confront you about it later. He knew that you and Joe were obviously close and were friends, but that interaction that he just saw was too intimate for his liking.

He hadn't cared for Joe ever since the party where he had stepped in between the both of you. In the back of his mind, he knew Joe liked you, it was obvious. But one thing that he had to do was set him straight and let him know that you were his and planned on reminding you about it later.

Little did he know, it was too little too late.

You were too far gone at this point, and the only person that held your attention was Joseph Lee Burrow.

Later on that night after he had gotten back to his apartment from LSU winning their game, Joe had grabbed food and was sitting down eating it while his phone vibrated on the table in front of him indicating that it was his mom and he quickly answered.

He simply wanted to be by himself and didn't bother celebrating with any of his teammates because once again, his mind was on you.

It was a continuous cycle, you, football, and focusing on his classes.

It took everything in him not to text you to tell you to come over at this very moment. He was supposed to be mad at you, but being around you was something that kept him grounded. Seeing you wear his jersey tonight made it hard for him to continue to be mad at you.

“Hello?”

“I watched the game and you played amazing as usual. I'm sorry that I couldn't make it to this one, but I will definitely be there next week.”

“It's fine, don't even worry about it and thank you.” He quietly said and she knew for a fact that something was wrong.

“What's going on? You sound upset.” Robin asked him and he sighed before he answered her.

“I like this girl…”

“Oh Y/N? Yes I know. Pretty obvious. You literally talk about her non-stop every week that me and your dad call you. Can't wait to meet her, but go on.”

“Well she knows that I like her, well I actually told her that I loved her earlier today and also told her that I knew she loved me. We've gotten really close ever since I came down here and met her. If I'm not playing football or in class, I am literally spending all of my time with her.”

“Well, what's the problem?”

“She has a boyfriend and I might just have to settle for being her friend because instead of breaking up with him and being with me, she told me that she is giving him another chance even after he's hurt her multiple times.”

“I know that can be hard to watch, but as bad as it sounds, you need to let her make her own mistakes. If that's her decision, you need to respect it.”

“And that's what I told her and also said from now on I’ll be keeping my distance from her.”

“If you feel that's your best option, then stand by your decision.”

“I just…. All I've seen is her getting hurt by him and she steadily defends him each time.”

“I… if you are her friend and you are as close as you claim you two are, just be there for her and help her get through whatever may happen. If the two of you are meant to be together, you'll be together.”

It was 2 in the morning when Joe heard someone knocking on his apartment door and was instantly confused. Hopping up from the couch that he had fallen asleep on with open books scattered around him, he opened the door to see you staring at him in a frantic state.

“Y/N, is everything okay? What's wrong?” He asked as he stepped to the side to be able to let you in and led you to sit down on the couch.

“My brother isn't here, is he?” You asked not bothering to answer his question and looking around since sometimes Ja'Marr would crash at Joe's place if he was too tired to go back to his own.

“No, but do I need to call him?” He asked and you immediately shook your head no.

“No! Please don't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, just don’t tell him.” You didn't mean to raise your voice and it came out harsher than you intended.

“Then are you going to tell me what happened? Wait, why is there a cut near your eye? And it's bleeding.” He asked and got up to wet a washcloth and dabbed at your face with it.

It was at that moment that you had looked down and started playing with your matching bracelet that you and Ja'Marr had gotten each other on your eighteenth birthdays and under no circumstances would you make eye contact with him.

That's when the thought hit Joe like a ton of bricks.

“Did that asshole put his hands on you?”

“No.”

“Y/N, if you lie to me I'm calling Ja'Marr.”

“Okay, okay. He tried to. We were arguing and he threw a vase at me that shattered against the wall and some glass from it must have cut me. And then he pushed me into a corner and acted as if he was going to punch me, but punched a hole in the wall instead. Right next to my head. He apologized, but I waited until he fell asleep and then I came here. I was so scared.” You quietly said as tears were starting to run down your cheeks and Joe quickly wiped them away.

It happened again, just like he said it would.

And this time, it ended up being a lot worse.

Joe was sitting there with his jaw clenched and once you looked up at him, you knew that you had to stop him before he did something stupid.

He abruptly got up and was looking for his keys when you instantly ran to stand in front of the door to block him.

“Move, Y/N.”

“Joey, no. You are not going anywhere. Let it go.”

“He fucking hurt you. I should go over there and kick his ass myself.”

“I cannot risk you getting in trouble and therefore getting kicked off the team, he isn't worth it. I'll be fine. Do not mess up your future over me.” You told him as you took his hands in yours.

“But YOU are worth it. Who the fuck in their right mind would do something like that to you? I knew I didn't like him when I met him and your brother was right about him.”

“Joey, promise me. Please don't. I'll deal with it in my own way.”

“There is no way in hell you are going near him ever again. Ja'Marr would be mad as hell at me if he knew that I knew that he hurt you and didn't do anything about it.”

“And that's why you aren't going to tell him.”

“Wait, what? Y/N… you cannot be serious.”

“I… it's the same thing with him too. You can both get arrested for assault and it'll lead to so much more, just please.”

Joe let out a deep sigh before nodding, letting you know that he would honor your wishes.

The two of you were still standing in front of the door and the two of you hadn't taken your eyes off one another when you suddenly reached up and kissed him, catching him off guard, but he immediately kissed you back.

When the two of you broke apart, the reality of what you had just done hit you like a ton of bricks.

You had just cheated on your boyfriend with Joe.

And you didn’t have an ounce of regret in your body.

“I'm sorry, I…” You started to say as you stepped away from him and Joe cut you off as he lightly brought you back towards him.

“I'm not. Break up with him and be with me instead. So I can show you how you're supposed to be treated. I promise you that you won't regret it.”

You didn't respond, but Joe immediately brought your face to his and kissed you once more. Both of your hands were exploring each other's bodies but as soon as you tried to lift Joe's shirt, he abruptly stopped and he kissed the side of your mouth like he had done earlier at the game before saying anything.

“Not yet. You've been through a lot tonight and the last thing I want is for you to feel like I'm taking advantage of you in a vulnerable state and you regret it tomorrow.”

“But I'm…”

“I just want you to rest for the rest of the night. We have plenty of time for that. I'll grab you some clothes to sleep in.”

Nodding your head he kissed you again before taking your hand in his and led you towards his bedroom that you had grown familiar with all throughout the semester. Any time you came over, it would lead to you stealing one of his shirts or one of his hoodies. He was convinced when the semester was over that all he was going to have left at this rate were his boxers. Once there, he let go of your hand and went into his dresser to pull out one of his old Ohio State shirts and handed it to you.

“It'll probably be huge on you, but you'll be comfortable.”

You smiled at him before heading to the bathroom to change out of your clothes. Once you closed the door behind you, you glanced in the mirror and didn't recognize the girl staring back at you.

You promised yourself that if it happened again, you would leave him, but here you were. You had someone right in front of you that wanted to give you the world so what were you so scared of?

You were tired of running around in circles and tired of making excuses.

First thing you were doing later on that day was breaking up with Trevor.

Once you had gotten changed, you walked back out into Joe's bedroom to see he was now in just a pair of sweatpants and looked like he was headed towards the door, but was quickly stopped in his tracks as he heard your soft voice behind him making him turn around.

“Where are you going?” You quietly asked since you were confused.

“To sleep on the couch while you sleep in my bed. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay first.”

“Joey, no. I'm not kicking you out of your bed and besides, I don’t want to be by myself right now.” You confessed as you grabbed his hand.

He nodded as the two of you both got settled, Joe was closest to the door while you were closest to the window. After making sure you were comfortable, he reached over to turn off the lamp that was on the bedside table. That was when he heard your voice once more.

“Joey?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for always being there for me. Even when I might not deserve it.”

At this point in time, you were honestly surprised that he even answered the door and let you in, but knowing the type of person he is, he wouldn’t have reacted any differently.

“I'll be here as long as you want me to be and you deserve the world. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

—

You didn’t know how long you were laying there, but sleep was the last thing taking over your body. Noticing that Joe's breathing also hadn't slowed, you turned around to face him and at the same time you heard his voice.

“Princess? You still awake? You need to go to sleep.”

“I can't sleep. I'm still so scared, I know he's going to look for me sooner or later.”

“You’re safe here and no one is going to touch a hair on your head. I can promise you that.” He told you as he stroked your face and placed a light kiss on your forehead as he was able to make out your features in the dark by the moonlight peeking in through the curtains.

“Come here.”

Joe then wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him as he then leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips which you quickly returned.

All of this led up to a heated make out session with Joe now hovering over top of you as his hands reached underneath his shirt that you were wearing. His fingers lightly grazed your nipples and he then began to roll them between his fingers as he noticed that your bra that you had been wearing had been long forgotten which he was thankful for.

Before he lifted his shirt over your head, he asked for permission to make sure you were absolutely sure about wanting to do this. Joe had wanted you from day one, but if you weren’t ready to do this he was willing to wait until you were.

“Are you…?”

“Yes. I was sure earlier tonight and I'm sure now. I know the last thing I'm ever going to regret is being with you.”

Once he peeled the shirt away from your body, he now had full access to you. The plan was to take his time so he could give you the undivided attention that you deserved since he knew for a fact that Trevor wasn't giving it to you without even having to ask you about it.

His mouth found its way to one of your nipples and he began to lightly suck on it while continuing to roll the other one in between his fingers before switching making a moan escape your mouth.

“Mmm, fuck.”

“I'm going to make you feel so good, princess.” He whispered against your lips before kissing them.

The increase in wetness between your thighs was evident as you Iet out soft quiet moans from the sensation of having him explore your body with his mouth.

As he moved further south, Joe's fingers ran along your folds as he saw how wet you actually were.

“This all for me? I've barely even done anything and your body is responding like this?” He asked you as he placed one kiss on each inner thigh.

As you nodded, he inserted one finger and soon worked himself up to two before settling in between your thighs and beginning to pleasure you with his tongue.

After a few minutes, he noticed you starting to squirm and firmly wrapped his arms around your legs in the hopes of limiting your movement.

“Stay still for me princess.” Was all you heard as your hands found a way to his hair and was softly tugging on it, hoping to bring him in closer.

With the use of his tongue along with his fingers, a new sensation unknown to you was building in the lower half of your body and at the same time, Joe began to suck on your clit.

“Oh, shit….”

Joe felt your hands trying to push him away from you, but all he did was tighten his hold on your legs making sure you had no way to get away from him.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? You won't be able to if you keep moving away from me.” Joe asked you as he had come up for air, but immediately went back down.

“Yes.” Was all you said as he began to suck harder.

It took no time at all for you to feel like you were seeing stars as Joe continued to pleasure you.

It was official.

Joe had given you your first orgasm.

He gave you a few minutes to recover as he was placing kisses up and down your thighs before sliding off his sweatpants along with his boxers as he opened the bedside table to pull out a condom. It was still obviously dark in the room, but you could literally see because of the light coming through the windows past the curtains, how big he was and you suddenly became nervous.

You thought to yourself that there was no way in hell that he was about to fit.

Joe could sense this as he was putting the condom on and quickly tried to reassure you.

“No reason to be nervous, baby. It's going to fit. Most important thing is that you have to relax for me.” He told you while leaning down to lightly stroke your face.

“Okay.” You quietly said in response, but you still weren’t convinced. But at the same time, you knew that Joe had no reason to lie to you.

Once he positioned himself in front of you, he reached down to kiss you and once he pulled away from you is when you heard his voice once more.

“You ready, princess?”

You nodded, but that obviously wasn’t enough for him.

“I need words, you need to say it. I’m not doing anything unless you do.”

“I’m ready.”

Once he finally heard it, you felt Joe slowly entering you and you tightly closed your eyes. As you did this, Joe immediately felt your body tense up.

It would have probably been a good idea to tell him that you had never had sex before before all of this began happening, but knew that he would be as gentle as possible with you regardless.

That's just the type of person he was when it came to you.

“Princess, you have to relax. It's me and the last thing that I am ever going to do is hurt you. When I told you that I loved you, I meant it. Every word.” He quietly said as he leaned down to kiss you.

You nodded and several more kisses were placed on your lips when you felt him easing the rest of the way into you at the same time making you gasp as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“You're okay, I got you baby.” Joe told you as he gave you time to adjust to his size before he made any sudden movement.

Kisses were planted along your neck and shoulder as you were adjusting to a new feeling that you had never experienced before. It wasn’t quite to the point of pleasure, however you weren’t necessarily in pain either.

It felt weird.

About a minute or so had passed when you slowly felt him begin to move and you wrapped your arms around him tighter.

Now all you felt was pleasure as moans escaped from your mouth when Joe began to increase his pace.

In order to go deeper and at a better angle, Joe held onto your hips before deciding to wrap your left leg around his waist.

“If you want this as bad as you say you do, keep those legs spread. Fuck you feel so good around me, just like I knew you would.”

Since your arms were already tightly wrapped around him, his face was in the crook of your neck as he had now leaned forward.

Making that sudden change in position, he was now hitting the same spot over and over again and you just knew that it was about to send you over the edge sooner or later.

You were thinking that it would probably be sooner.

“Fuck, Joey stay right there.” You breathed out as he lifted his head to steal a quick kiss from you.

Doing what you had asked him to, his movements increased in pace while also becoming sloppy at the same time making you think that he was just as close as you were.

“Joey, I…” You trailed off as a weird sensation was building in your stomach once more and you knew it was happening again.

The second orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks and you felt like you had gotten the wind knocked out of you.

As Joe heard your soft whimpers, he placed kisses all along your shoulder blade as you rode out your high.

He placed another kiss on your forehead before he slowly slipped out of you making you wince and went to throw away the condom.

Once he had come back, he had a washcloth with warm water in his right hand as he started to gently glide it onto your body in order to wipe you off.

When he was finished, he threw it into the hamper and laid back down beside you, ultimately pulling you on top of him. Your eyes began to become heavy between Joe rubbing small circles along your back and listening to Joe's heartbeat.

Your eyes fluttered open from hearing the television on a low volume and you could only assume that Joe was already awake. Once he noticed that you began to stir, he peeked down at you seeing as you were still laying on his chest.

“Good morning, princess.” He softly said before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Good morning. What time is it?”

“It’s almost nine and I was about to wake you up since I know that you have class at ten and it takes you five to seven business days to get ready.”

“Really, Joey?” You replied as you rolled your eyes.

“I call it like I see it. I always tell you what time I’m going to come and get you, however, I’ll be downstairs waiting in the car while you only still have one of your lashes on.”

“You get on my last nerve.”

“But did I lie?”

When Joe was met with silence and another eye roll from you, all he did was laugh.

“I guess I have to go and get ready then.” You told him as you sighed, not wanting to leave his embrace.

“We can do dinner later and have a study date…. With or without clothes.”

“JOSEPH!”

“What? What’d I say that was wrong? I was just giving you options!” He exclaimed as he then held up his hands in defense.

“I’m ignoring you. What time are we doing our dinner and study date?”

“As soon as you get out of class, just come back here.”

“I’m honestly a little nervous to go back to my apartment.” You said being completely honest.

“Just get some of your things and you can stay with me, you know that I don’t care and the most important thing is that you’re safe. I have to go to class too, but I can call Ja’Marr…”

“NO! Baby brother asks too many questions. I’ll be fine. The security guy who works there is super nice and I know if I tell him I don’t feel all that safe he’ll walk me to my apartment door.”

“As long as you’re sure. But call me if there’s a problem, understand?”

“Understood, Mr. Burrow.”

—-

Joe was still running off of the high from this morning as he had woken up to the sight of you beside him. He was walking to his last class of the day on campus when he did a double take as he spotted you in front of one of the many libraries that he knew was near a few of your classes. But who he saw you with was why he instantly became upset.

You were talking to Trevor, who of course he despised and for good reason.

He couldn't tell what the nature of the conversation was by your body language and it almost looked as if Trevor was barely paying any attention to what you were saying which wasn’t unusual.

So, did last night mean nothing to you?

Joe was watching you for a few more minutes until he looked down at his watch and noticed that if he didn't leave now that he would end up being late to class.

At this point, he was done trying.

If that's who you wanted, then fine.

And he made it up in his mind that he was done.

Completely.

Throughout the day, you were calling him and sending him text messages, that ultimately went unanswered making you nervous.

You deserved to get an explanation on why he was suddenly acting this way towards you and immediately hopped into your car after packing your bags that you were going to take in order to stay with him and quickly drove to his apartment.

The banging on Joe's door instantly annoyed him seeing as he just sat down to watch one of the many NBA games that we’re coming on that night. He glanced at the clock to see that it was barely 6 pm and had a feeling that it was you.

A deep sigh escaped his mouth before he got up to answer it. Once he did, he was met with you just as he suspected and you had a pissed off look on your face and Joe raised his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Yes? Did you need something?”

“So, you can have sex with me, but then suddenly ignore me? I may be little, but I will kick your 6’4 ass and throw a dumbbell at your head.” You asked him and pushed your way past him into the apartment.

“It's not even like that so stop jumping to conclusions.” Joe replied as he closed the door behind you.

“Then tell me so I can understand, Joey! Because you have me confused. You claim to want me so bad and then end up ignoring me all day!? When I called you multiple times? Who does that?”

“Because I saw you with him! Why the fuck are you even talking to him? Hasn’t he hurt you enough?”

“Now look who's jumping to conclusions.” You said as you crossed your arms.

“Then why else would you be with him? You did tell me recently that you were going to give him another chance. Recently as in yesterday before we had sex so I simply thought she claims she loves me, yet she's still going back to him.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose before you said anything else to him.

“You are literally so annoying. I went to talk to him to break up with him! Last time I checked you did confess that you loved me or did I not get that right?”

“Oh.” Joe quietly said and you couldn't help but to roll your eyes.

You started to make your way back towards the door in order to leave when you felt Joe suddenly pull you back as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Let me go. I'm mad at you.” You said as you were trying to wiggle out of his grip.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed anything.” He replied as he turned you around to face him and leaned down to kiss you.

“No, don't kiss me. Turn me loose. Leave me alone. All you literally had to do was just ask me.”

“I know, but seeing you with him just pissed me off and so I walked away. I promise it won’t happen again. You forgive me? I’m not letting you go until you say you do.” Joe asked you as he squeezed you tighter and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“I guess.” You muttered as he led the both of you over to the couch as Joe sat down first and then pulled you onto his lap.

“So, is it official now?” You asked him as he had been focused on the game that was playing on the television.

“Is what official?”

“Me being LSU's star quarterback Joe Burrow's girlfriend.” You teased as you kissed the tip of his nose.

“You've been mine for a while. That ex-boyfriend of yours was just keeping my spot warm. I bet he never made you feel as good as I did last night.” Joe told you as he was wiggling his eyebrows as you both then let out a laugh.

“No, because I never had sex with Trevor.”

Joe immediately stopped laughing and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Wait, huh?”

“I never did because I told him that I wanted to wait. That was one of the only things he actually did respect, but I know for a fact that he's probably cheated on me multiple times because of it, but I just ignored it.” You replied while being completely honest.

“Uh, princess? Don't you think you should have told me that? Fuck did I…? Shit. I would have made it a lot more special if I would have known. I would have had candles and…”

“Stop it. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.” You cut him off as you kissed him and tried to reassure him.

“I waited for the right person who I knew for a fact was going to treat me right.”

[patientreflections]

The Failure of Manufactured Momentum

In 2025, can Hollywood continue with the same old party tricks and expect applause? It’s a question I found myself pondering after stumbling upon an onslaught of post BAFTA social media content where one continuous storyline piqued my interest…and not in a good way. 

I don’t usually wade into fandom conversations, but I’ve always had a soft spot for Bridgerton—and Colin and Penelope’s story was my favourite from the books. Beyond that, I’ve kept my distance. I don’t ship actors or keep up with stan drama. But something about this weekend’s BAFTAs, and the very deliberate press rollout that followed, caught my attention. Not just as a viewer, but as someone who’s worked in a corporate public relations adaject role for over a decade and finds the Hollywood machine endlessly fascinating (and completely outdated).

What we’re seeing right now with Luke Newton and Antonia Roumelioti is a textbook example of trying to manufacture momentum when there’s no organic traction to begin with. The cracks are showing. With every single post and article that popped up on my FYP and Instagram feed these past 48 hours, the more I felt like I had a bad case of deja vu. Did I just read the same headline over and over again? Yes…but from different outlets and yet it all felt the same. Interest piqued. Clearly the press kit made the following demands: 

Couple Focused; Antonia is to be treated in the headlines with the same level of celebrity as Luke

Curated Images - the same set of approved images over and over again

Approved language. We get it, Antonia is “glamorous” 

Ah, manufactured momentum, the Hollywood PR machines old faithful approach when you have nothing of substance. Let’s be honest: Antonia is being positioned as a public figure, but the foundation is incredibly thin. There’s no significant modeling campaign to anchor her in that world. Her dance history, beyond being a teenage contestant on Greece’s Got Talent, hasn’t evolved into any noteworthy professional credits. And as an “influencer,” an angle that feels unconvincing, the aesthetic is curated, sure, but there’s no substance—no strong personal voice, no visible passion, no cultural or philanthropic cause to connect with. The identity being presented is vague, and vague doesn’t hold attention for long. Did it ever?  

This isn’t a case of the public being harsh. It’s that there’s nothing anchoring her presence outside of proximity to Luke. And for a rollout to work, there has to be something to build from—an existing spark of interest, a story, something people can latch onto. Right now, that just isn’t there. In PR terms, it’s a classic case of a lack of narrative coherence. 

It’s also not helping that the timing feels off. One year out from Bridgerton S3, and Luke’s visibility has been notably muted.  While Nicola Coughlan has gone from strength to strength since then, Luke’s career has remained.... steady at best. He’s the only Bridgerton lead with a season of the show not signed to one of the major agencies, and despite being positioned as a romantic lead, his trajectory feels… stalled.  So this moment, framed as a kind of visibility push, doesn’t feel rooted in authentic career growth. Instead, it reads as strategy: tie this reveal to a known milestone, hope for carryover attention. The fact that Nicola’s name had to be threaded into nearly every headline surrounding this weekend’s appearance says a lot - borrowed equity. It suggests his team knows he doesn’t generate enough coverage on his own—and that’s a hard truth, but it’s one the public is picking up on.

Unsurprisingly, the reaction has been indifferent at best. Well until it took a turn for the worse. Take the Entertainment Tonight instagram post. When a media push goes a bit too far, it can lead to consequences. Using Nicola’s name here and sidelining her accomplishments to push a couple narrative, well, it was a choice someone made. A bad one at that. Viewers are seeing through the strategy, and instead of buying in, they’re disengaging. That’s the risk when you try to force relevance without real public demand. If anything, this rollout has highlighted just how little genuine excitement there is around either of them right now.

So the question is: where does this go from here? Because from a PR perspective, you can’t build long-term interest on shallow foundations. At some point, there needs to be actual growth—either from Antonia showing a clearer sense of self, or from Luke stepping into a stronger career phase that doesn’t rely on nostalgia or association.

Until then, this push will likely keep feeling exactly as it does now: calculated, hollow, and a little too late.

[busybeewriting]

I wanna be yours.

Azriel x Shy reader

Summary: When you’re invited out for Emerie’s birthday. The last thing you expected was to have the shadow singer wrapped around your finger for the night. (Based off of this request)

Warnings: Suggestive themes, and eluding to more.

Ageless and Minors DNI

Requests are open!!

Masterlist

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You kept your head down, watching as your feet carried you down the streets of Velaris. You didn’t know why you agreed to go out with your beloved book club. But Nesta, she was so insistent. Gwyn popped in too to confirm she’d be going too. You couldn’t turn it down. But that didn’t stop you from being nervous.

The party was at Rita’s as normal. But tonight it was for Emerie’s birthday. And Nesta had gone all out. As you push open the door your breathing hitches as you look at the crowd. Multiple other Valkyries stood around, the whole freaking Night Court was there! You thought you might pass out, truly. You clutched the small gift for your friend in your hand and started forward, looking around for Nesta. Or someone you’d know at least. You could drop off the gift, a nice new dagger you had made for her- the handle engraved with her favorite quote from the series she wouldn’t stop gushing about. Beautiful and deadly- just like her. But your thoughts are cut short by the heat of someone’s body next to you, and thier breath hitting your ear.

“Boo.” And you jump several feet in the air, whirling around to find Azriel looking at you with an amused grin. You had clamped down on the scream you were going to let out, not wanting to drag any attention to yourself.

You glare at the shadowsinger. “Azriel!” You hiss, pouting up at him. “Thats not funny!”

He holds up his hands in defense, still smiling gently. “Nesta sent me to get you. She said you looked ready to bolt.” Smoothly he offered his hand to you. Looking at it, he was right. You were about to dip. Curse Nesta for knowing that. You take his hand with ease, letting him pull you into him. Navigating you through the crowd, his large hands settled on your waist as he gently pushed you forward. Each step made him press closer to you until all you could feel was his sturdy chest. You prayed to the Mother that you weren’t blushing- or that it wasn’t obvious.

Azriel had never been a touchy person. Nesta had told you that much, albeit with a smirk when you tilted your head in confusion. Explaining that usually he liked to keep his distance, didn’t speak much around people he didn’t know well. But with you it had never been like that. From the moment you met he smiled and greeted you with a kiss to your hand. And you could have sworn you saw pride swelling in his beautiful hazel eyes. And moments like that only happened more, Azriel doing something that made you blush and watching the satisfaction shine through his whole demeanor. Just that morning you had been learning to take down enemies much bigger than you. Azriel made sure you were his partner, pushing and pulling you in the right directions to get you to pin him. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Cassian had explained why this maneuver was good for taking down enemies larger than you. You didn’t miss the way he looked at you as he said something about how even the smallest movements could have the biggest impact. So he paired up everyone, Nesta and him. Gywn and Emerie, You and Azriel. 

Azriel stood in front of you, arms crossed over his broad chest. Watching you size him up. In one move you tried to get him down. But instead you got Azriel grabbing your waist and taking your wrists in his as he pinned them against your own. “Too slow.” He whispers in your ear and lets you go. Standing back to his full height as he waits for you to try again. Glaring at him, trying to find your best inner faith in yourself. You start again, trying a different angle. 

Again he wraps one of his thick arms around your middle and another across your collarbones. “Still too slow. You’re thinking too much. Let your movements be fluid.” He lets you go again, feline grin as he coos “You got this princess.” 

Your cheeks heat, but you push it down. Rushing at him, grabbing his wrist before spinning in and trying to lift him. But he stops you again. Instead intertwining your fingers, spinning you around and into a dip. Your eyes widen at the fluidity of it. How suave Azriel had just been. He tuts at you, “If you wanted me to hold you. All you had to do was ask. But you’re not even trying.” He sighs and brings you back up. Letting go. 

Gritting your teeth, you surge forward. Watching as Azriel’s eyes widen, the pawing at your body this time wasn’t to toy with you. But genuinely trying to avoid getting knocked down. But it was all for naught- as you triumphantly pinned his hands above his head. Straddling him with ease, panting on top of him. You leaned in, whispering, “I won.” Before standing and brushing yourself off. The rest of your teammates were still trying. So you looked back at him. 

Ariel stood, his cheeks dusted pink. You have never made him blush before- or at least to your knowledge. But you felt pride in that. For all the teasing he did. Subtle touches, sexy comments, looks in the halls. Bastard deserved it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Now here he was. Hands on your hips, chest pressed to your back as he scanned the crowd to try and find your table. All you could feel is his warmth pressing into you. As if he wasn’t phased at all by this morning. Even just thinking about it made you blush! The way you had pinned him had been… it left little to your imagination about his wing span. It made something deep within in you crave more. He gives you a gentle push forward and continues down his path. Leading you to a small back corner, tables all scattered with people and presents. This was where the real party was apparently. You spot Nesta, and she quickly waves you and Azriel over.

Expecting the shadow singer to let you go now that you were safely at the table, but it seemed you were wrong. He was still slightly behind you, but one hand remained on your hip, drawing small shapes into the fabric of your dress. As you looked up at him, he wore a proud smirk. Looking down at you with a wink.

You squeaked and looked away quickly. Nesta was also smirking at the two of you. But she leaned in, “I’m glad you came!”

You smiled at your friend, “I’m glad I did too! Has Em showed up yet?” Nesta shakes her head. “Not yet! But the night is young.” She looks between you and Azriel as she waggles her eyebrows at you. Quickly covering your face you whine. Suddenly you feel something wrap around you and bring you closer.

A wing. It was a wing. You peak out from behind your hands to find that Azriel had created a thin winged barrier between you and Nesta. Selfishly pushing you into him in the mean time. Your hands gently lay on his chest. He leans down to whisper to you, ”Isn’t it too early to be whining?”

You wrinkle your nose in confusion. ”Theres a time and place for whining?”

Azriel smirks again- feline in nature. And you curse yourself for finding it so attractive. ”Well for one i’ve barely touched you. Secondly you’re not even under me yet.” Your mind flashed back to that morning. He had been under you…and now? Your eyes widen, and your face grows redder. Mouth opening and closing before you just burry your face in his chest. He chuckles lowly, patting your head.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As the night progressed you found yourself loosing up a little. Nesta had pulled you, Gwyn and Emerie onto the dance floor, helping you learn to move with the music. Soon enough the three of you got the hang of it. Laughing warmly, singing loudly, and swaying your hips to the beat. Loving the feeling of music beating so loud it feels like a heartbeat. You were starting to understand why Nesta loved it so much.

As the music switched from upbeat pop, into a more sensual rhythm. Nesta showed you how to slow your actions down, but you stopped watching her when she beckoned Cassian over. You stayed with Gwyn and Emerie, the three of you continuing to dance the night away before one by one they got asked to dance with other men. Before you could return to the table, a strong set of hands held your waist.

“May I have this dance?” Azriel’s smooth voice purred into your ear. You gently laid your hands over his, looking up at him and nodding. You watched Nesta for a few seconds, her hips grinding into Cassian’s. And you blew out a breath, leaning further into Azriel. Letting your hips sway with his.

He groaned softly into your ear. Leaning his head into the crook of your neck. Gently kissing your exposed skin. ”You looked so good dancing like that. I couldn’t help myself.” He whispers, his hands squeezing your hips as he helps you grind into him more. ”Now look at you. Not so bashful anymore huh?”

Your cheeks heated and you wrapped your arms around his neck. Arching your back against him. “You’ve been watching?”

His low chuckle vibrates through him- and by extension you causing you to press your thoughts together tighter. “How could I look away?” His hands trail up from your waist to just under your bust, before trailing back down to the end of your dress that had ridden up to mid thigh length. Keeping his hands only on the area’s you were clothed already. But you were desperate to feel his hands on your skin. “Watching you sway your hips? Run your fingers through your hair? You look beautiful-“ He leans back into you, kissing your cheek before whispering. ”It makes me want to ravish you.” Your face heats, biting your lip as you look up at him. “Wh-who says you can’t?” Azriel’s eyes lock onto yours and you watch the shadow singer debate his options. He could continue this little game of cat and mouse. Teasing you and letting you go on and on. Or. He could simply take you back to his place and tease you more there. “We’re in public, princess.” He says evenly. “I couldn’t possibly ravish you here. Not the first time at least.” That gets a small gulp from you but you quickly whisper. “I don’t think our absence would be noticed.” Azriel’s eyes darken and he grips your hips tighter. “You know what this entails, right?” You slowly nod. “I know. And I want it.” Azriel doesn’t say a word, silently bringing you to his house.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

a/n: Writing suggestive pieces, vs like- smutty pieces is so different. 😭 But i hope it turned out all right. Also sorry for it being so short!

[world-of-aus]

Exposure

Pairing: Hockey Player!Bucky x Sports Photographer!Reader

Warning: A whole tall glass of angst my friends.

Author's Note: I try not to get in my head during the editing phase since it's been so long, but alas nothing different.. Anyway here's part II. Part III based off the schedule i've decided to go with will be out Tuesday! Enjoy my little puck bunnies!

The following day you arrived at the arena before sunrise. You soaked in the moment; the city still wore its quiet. Streets hushed, the skies heavy and gray, you liked it this way, before the buzz started, before the lights turned on and the world expected you to smile or answer questions that right now you weren’t sure you had the answers too. 

You slipped inside through the side entrance, badge clipped to the collar of your work polo, your camera bag slung high over one shoulder. Your footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, familiar and grounding. Your sanctuary. Game days were always louder. Busier. But the morning after? Just a few trainers and early risers. Equipment staff. And a few rookies running drills in the distance. 

And You. 

You made a beeline for the media room, needing the hum of your monitors and the soft click of your editing software like a balm to soothe the invisible ache beneath your skin. Shutting the door behind you, you flicked on the desk lamp, pulling out your chair as you took a seat opening the folder from last night’s game. 

You tried to maintain your focus as you sorted through the gallery, but your eyes kept drifting to that one photo. 

The one you shouldn’t have saved. 

Bucky, turning mid-play. Looking right at you. Looking for you. 

Your jaw clenched as you minimized the window, pulling up a different set; group shots, sponsor promos, post-game press conference angles. You worked through them all methodically, flagging and exporting, labeling for the Bruins’ socials and web team to go through when they had a chance. 

“Hey you, good morning.” You startle in your chair hand clasped to your chest as you turn your head to find the voice.

Dolores, one of the media team assistants, leans up against the doorway, smile pulling at her bubble gum pink lips as she holds two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. “Didn’t think anyone beat me in today, but i shouldn't be surprised, you were on fire last night."

You exhale a breath forcing a smile onto your lips. “Thank you. I - I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Ah. Game high?” she questions stepping into your office.

“Something like that.” You nod, “figured I could get a head start today sorting through last night’s gallery.” 

Dolores nods subtly as she hands you a coffee perching herself on the edge of your desk. “So,” she hums around a sip, “any thoughts on the new guy?” 

You keep your face neutral at the mention of him, “He played well, I think he’s going to be great for the team.” you answer holding back all you really want to say

“Well? Did we watch the same game last night?" she laughs. "He was an absolute machine out there y/n! Three assists, two goals, and that overtime steal? The team is obsessed already. Not gonna lie, I didn’t think someone with that kind of name recognition would be nice, but he said thank you to everyone last night. Even the janitor.” 

You stirred your coffee slowly taking in her words, everything you already knew, “That’s good.” you offer. 

Dolores eyed you, brow raised. “You feeling okay y/n?” 

You nod, offering up a smile, “I’m fine, just a lot on my mind with deadlines." Lie. 

“Cool, cool” Dolores trails off, perking up when she feels her phone vibrate. You watch the brunette pull her phone from her pocket, eyes lighting up, “Oh, group text from Theo. They want to set up the media shoot for Barnes. Headshots, player profile, some PR content. Probably later this week.” 

Your stomach dropped. Of course. 

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right?” You choke on your coffee. 

Dolores blinks brown raised in concern. “Okay, seriously you good?” 

You clear your throat, nodding your head, “Yeah, fine, fine.” Another lie. “Just went down the wrong pipe.” you smile. 

She gives you another wary look her finger hovering over her phone, “Actually you want me to cover the shoot when it’s scheduled? You’ve had the past few days stacked, I'm sure you could use a break.” 

You hesitated. A normal person would say yes. A sane one. But the photographer in you, the one who never backed away from a challenge, never let her personal life interfere with her work—sat up straighter. 

“No,” you said. “I’ve got it, Thursday, right?” 

“Thursday.” she confirms smiles kissing her lips as she gets to her feet. “Should be fun. Plus, he's easy on the eyes.” 

The smile doesn’t reach your eyes this time. “Yeah.” Dolores leaves without another word much less another glance back your way as she exits, your office door shutting softly behind her. Your eyes slip shut, forehead falling to rest on your hand. 

What am I doing. 

Four years ago, you had let yourself believe you’d have a life with Bucky Barnes. A future. He promised he wouldn’t forget you, and maybe he didn’t. But remembering wasn’t the same as staying. 

Now he was back. On your turf. Wearing the same jersey, part of the same team. A dream you once had.

But you’d wanted space. Needed time to collect yourself. after the splash of cold reality.

Instead; you were being handed time alone with him, a camera lens, and nowhere to hide. 

God how were you going to get through this? 

After the bomb was dropped on you your morning seemingly dragged. 

You buried yourself in editing, tagging, uploading and when your screen began to blur, you switched to shooting some behind-the-scenes content for the social team; quick snaps of the locker room being restocked, jerseys being hung, trainers prepping gear. Easy, harmless, no emotional landmines. 

Until the sound of skates on concrete echoed through the hallway just outside the tunnel you were walking through

You didn't have to look to know who it was. The low cadence of Bucky’s voice carried with it that distinct scrape of memory, warm nights and colder mornings, whispers in the dark, promises traded under streetlights and winter skies. You backed up, ducking into the supply room, waiting for the sound to fade. Your chest felt tight, like it had forgotten how to expand all the way. 

Coward, you thought, gripping the camera around your neck. This isn’t you. 

But your feet wouldn’t move letting the seconds tick by until silence reclaimed the hall. 

When you finally stepped back out, the air felt heavier, like it remembered him too. 

— 

Across the ice, Bucky had just wrapped drills with the second line and was toweling off when Sam skated up beside him. 

“You good tinman?” Sam asked swiping his own towel across his skin. “You’ve missed the net twice.” 

Bucky blew out a breath, shaking his head as if that would clear his mind. “It’s my first week Wilson, just settling in, getting used to the team.” 

Sam raises a brow at his friend. “That look like settling to you? I've seen you do better with worse.” 

Bucky doesn’t answer. Truth was, his head wasn’t in the drills this morning. Not with you somewhere nearby, probably avoiding every corridor he stepped foot into. 

He hadn’t expected you to be here. Had hoped upon, maybe. But seeing you last night? 

That had knocked the air right from his lungs. 

You hadn’t changed much, still had that quiet fire in you, still moved like you didn’t want to be seen and couldn’t help but draw every eye anyway. 

But your walls, they were taller now. Sharper. Like maybe he was the reason you had built them. He was.

Sam nudged him with his stick. “C’mon man. Don’t make me look better than you. It’ll mess with my image and you know how i feel about my image - i'll be downright insufferable."

Bucky managed a smirk, “yeah Wilson we all know how you are about your image.” 

“Damn straight you do, now get your ass in line and show them why they made that trade, let them know who you are."

— 

Later that afternoon as you checked the team calendar. The photoshoot had been scheduled for Thursday morning. You stared at the block of time like it might disappear if you willed it hard enough. Thirty minutes alone. In the white-wall studio. With him. 

It wasn’t enough time to prepare. 

It was too much time to survive. It was - 

A knock at the door jolted you your head peeking over your shoulder.

Wanda peeked her head in, holding a paper bag in one hand and a concerned look in the other. “I brought food. And if needed, unsolicited best friend wisdom.” 

You let out a tired laugh, lips turning up in a genuine smile as you took in your best friend. “You always know.” 

“Damn right I do.” Wanda grinned stepping in the door falling shut behind her, you watched as she plopped into the chair opposite your desk. “You didn’t answer my texts last night. Or this morning. Got worried, I assumed you either died or ran off to join a convent after New's broke." 

“I thought about it,” you said, voice flat. “The convent thing.” 

Wanda arched a brow and handed over a wrapped sandwich. “So, how bad was it?” 

You didn’t answer right away staring at the sandwich in your hands like it might crack open and reveal a solution to you. 

Wanda leaned forward, her voice gentle. “Hey, talk to me y/n.” 

You let out a shaky breath meeting your friends' eyes. “It’s like, he walked in and every part of me remembered. My body, my brain, my camera, my heart, they all remembered. And I’ve spent four years trying to forget. Four year’s Wands. "

Wanda’s expression softened. “Oh y/n..” 

“I thought I was past it I really thought I was. I thought I made peace with what happened. But seeing him? Looking at me like I’d never left his memory?” You blinked hard, shaking you head. “It was like time didn’t care about all the healing I’d done.” 

Wanda was quiet, letting you get it out. 

You set your food down, untouched, suddenly not feeling very hungry as the next words came. “He came up to me after the game. Said one thing. One thing that once upon a time i longed to hear."

“What did he say?” 

You swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t forget you.” 

Wanda’s eyes widened. “He said that?” 

You nodded tears pressing at the backs of her eyes, but you didn’t let them fall. “It’s not fair Wanda, why did he have to say that, I was okay, I healed – I healed.” 

Wanda reaches across your desk gently covering your hand with hers. “That’s not nothing, that means something.” 

Your watery gaze found hers. “It used to mean something. But he still left. And I stayed behind, picking up pieces of myself I didn’t know I’d dropped. I had to rebuild my life without him in it. I rebuilt it."

“I know,” Wanda said softly fingers squeezing. “But you don’t have to pretend you’re unaffected now.” 

“I’m not unaffected. I’m - unmoored.” 

The two of you sat in silence for a beat, the kind that wrapped around you with weight and warmth all at once. Pulling in a breath you wiped beneath your eyes with the tips of your fingers. “His media shoot is Thursday.” 

Wanda blinked. “As in you and him, alone in a room with your camera Thursday?” 

You nodded slowly. 

Wanda winced. “Do you want me to pull strings? Get someone else assigned?” 

“No.” You shook her head. “It’s my job. And it’s just thirty minutes. I can handle thirty minutes.” 

Wanda gave you a long, steady look. “It’s okay to break a little, you know. You don’t always have to hold the frame.” 

You offered a ghost of a smile. “Someone has to.” 

Thursday. 10:02 AM.  You adjusted the lighting rig with trembling fingers. The white backdrop behind you swayed slightly in the draft from the ventilation above. Everything was too bright, too clean. Too still. The silence felt artificial. Even your camera rested quietly on the stool beside you, waiting for you to break first. 

You kept checking the time. 

The media shoot was scheduled for 10 a.m. sharp. 

At 10:04, the door creaked open. 

You didn’t have to look up to know it was him, but you did anyway. 

Bucky stepped in, a little breathless, in full gear minus the helmet. His hair was damp from morning practice, pushed back in a way that should’ve looked unkempt but didn’t. His cheeks were flushed, and there was a half-smile on his lips, the kind that came instinctively when he didn’t know what else to do. 

It was like a body check to the ribs. 

He stopped just inside the doorway. “Hey.” 

You nodded attempting to tilt your lips up in a smile. “Hi.” Silence stretched between the two of you, taut and fragile. 

He moved a little closer. “You still shoot on a Nikon?” 

You blinked, he remembered. “Yeah, I do.” 

He gave a soft chuckle. “Thought so.” 

You swallowed. “Still wear the same brand of cologne.” 

That made him grin, unexpected, a flash of something that belonged to another life. “You remembered?” You shrugged softly, focusing your eyes on the camera instead of him. “It’s hard to forget something that used to be everywhere.” 

His smile faltered, faded. “Right.” 

You picked up your camera as youadjusted the settings. Your fingers didn’t shake this time. Not because you weren’t affected, but because the camera gave you purpose. And purpose, at least, gave you armor. 

“Let’s get started,” you said setting yourself up. 

He nodded wordlessly stepping onto the white tape mark on the floor. 

You raised the camera and suddenly everything slowed. The viewfinder filled with his face, older now, sharper, but familiar in a way that made your throat tighten. You forced yourself to remain focused; you adjusted, snapped. Click. 

He didn’t smile at first. Just watched you with quiet eyes, letting you work. Letting you look at him without looking directly. 

“Smile,” you said softly. 

He gave you a crooked one. 

Click. 

“Eyes up.” 

He tilted his chin slightly, gaze catching yours through the lens. The way he looked at you, steady, careful, made something in your pulse quicken.  

Click. 

A pause. You lowered the camera. 

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky said. 

You stiffened shaking your head softly, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea Bucky we should really just focus on what we’re here for.” 

“Too late,” he said gently. “Because I really want to.” 

You hesitated. Then: “Go ahead.” 

His voice was low as he asked the one question that had been ringing in his mind. “Why didn’t you write back?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes widening slightly at his words. 

He stepped forward then just a fraction. “I sent letters y/n. A few actually. I left you messages. I didn’t just vanish.” 

You looked away, jaw clenched. “I know you didn’t vanish Bucky, trust me I know. You just became unreachable.” 

“I tried, y/n. I know I was busy; I know things moved fast, but I didn’t forget -” 

“Don’t,” you cut in, sharper than intended. “Don’t say that like it fixes anything.” 

He went still. 

You took a breath, tried again, quieter this time. “I didn’t write back because I didn’t know how to say I wasn’t okay. Not without sounding like I wanted to hold you back.” 

“You wouldn’t have,” he said with a shake of his head. “You never could have.” 

“But I didn’t know that then.” your voice cracked. “We were younger than Buck, and watching you become everything you dreamed of I wouldn’t be the one to hold you back from that - I needed to figure out who I was without you.” 

The room pulsed with silence. 

He stepped forward again, slower this time. “I never wanted to be someone you had to live without, I wanted your dreams.” I wanted you. 

You blinked hard, eyes burning. You would not cry. 

“I missed you,” he said, quiet and sure. “Even when I was surrounded by everything, I thought I wanted.” 

You looked up at him, camera still clutched in your hands. “I missed you too Bucky. But missing someone doesn’t always mean you get them back.” 

The two of you stared at each other, grief and longing suspended between the two of you like dust in a shaft of light. Then you lifted the camera again, as if to say: This is who I am now; without you.  

He nodded, understanding. And despite your treacherous mind and heart telling you to take back your words, to talk to him, you pulled your focus back in on the task and finished the shoot. 

Bucky didn’t leave the studio right away; even though you had turned away quickly after the last shot, pretending to check your gear, giving him an easy out his feet stayed planted on the white tape line watching you. You hadn’t forgiven him that much was clear, but you hadn’t shut him down either. You’d let him in, reminding him what it used to feel like to be seen by you; fully, quietly, completely. He wanted to know where to go from here, but his mind had no idea what the next step looked like. 

It wrecked him. 

“Barnes,” someone called from the hallway. Trainer’s voice. Break time. 

He hesitated for a moment wanting to say more but not wanting to push when you had just barely let him in. With one last longing look at your back he turned, leaving the same way he came. 

You waited until the door clicked shut behind him before sitting down hard on the edge of the backdrop stand. Your camera dangled from your hands, heavy and warm, like it had soaked up all the heat in the room. You felt hollowed out. You had held it together, and now you wanted nothing more than to fall apart. But there wasn’t time for that now, there was never time. 

Running a hand over your face, you catch the edge of moisture at your lash line. You wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not here. The shoot had gone fine. Technically perfect. But emotionally? 

A disaster. 

He still looked at you like you were the only person who mattered most in any room he walked into. You’d hated it how all you wanted to do was soak it up. You didn’t know which instinct scared you more. 

A soft knock on the door startles you. 

You stand quickly, wiping your palms on the back of your jeans as you watch the door creak open a head popping through. 

It wasn’t Bucky, It was Logan, the team’s media assistant. “Hey, you good? Coach wants selects from the player shoots by the weekend.” 

You nodded, “I’ll have them ready before then, no worries.” 

“You, okay?” 

You smiled. Too polished, too quick. “Yeah. Just been a long week, just about ready to get out of here."” 

He didn’t push. “Cool. Let me know if you need help sorting.” 

“Thanks.” 

When he left, you finally let yourself sit back down. And this time, you let your eyes close. 

Just for a moment. 

Just until the feeling passed. 

— 

Later that day, Bucky found himself wandering into the empty arena. It was quiet, ice freshly zambonied, light streaming through the upper windows in long, soft angles. He sat on the bench, helmet cradled in his hands, thinking about what you had said early that morning. 

“I needed to figure out who I was without you.” 

He’d never considered that you might’ve been drowning while he was flying. He’d thought you were the strongest person he knew. And you were, without a doubt in his mind, but strength didn’t mean pain didn’t touch you. He’d convinced himself the two of you were just growing apart. That the silence had meant acceptance. But now? 

Now he saw it for what it was: self-preservation. 

You hadn’t known how to be with him while he became someone else. And maybe, deep down, he hadn’t made enough space for you to stay. 

He leaned back, letting his head tip against the glass behind the bench. It was cold. Grounding. 

He didn’t know how to fix it. 

But he wanted to. 

For the first time in a long time, he wanted something more than goals, more than glory. 

He wanted to be someone you could look at without flinching. 

— 

That night, as you sat curled up on your couch, laptop open, Bucky’s photos pulled up on the screen you paused. Each shot was good. Clean. Professional. But sterile, in a way you hadn’t noticed while shooting. 

Until the last few. 

Those were different. 

Something had shifted between frame twelve and fifteen, his eyes had stopped performing and started speaking to you. 

The final image? 

It hit you like a sucker punch. He was looking straight into the lens. Not smiling. Not guarded. Just open. And somehow, impossibly, waiting. 

You stared at it for a long time, you should have deleted it, but you didn’t. 

You closed your laptop instead, falling to your side as you curled up further on the couch, your arms wrapping around a cushion like it might hold you together. 

You see, the worst part wasn’t that he was back. 

The worst part was that he still felt like home. 

And you didn’t know if you could survive losing him a second time. 

[itneverendshere]

Have a request for bartender!reader ! What if readers ex boyfriend reached out to her and was trying to get her back and Rafe catches wind of it? Something along those lines

thank you for the request!!! love writing a little jealous rafe. hope you like it! 🩵

when you say you love me, know i love you more - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Rafe stood at the edge of the beer pong table, a cocky grin tugging at his lips as he lined up his shot. His arm stretched out, elbow angled just right, ready to sink the ping-pong ball in one of the red cups sitting across the table. He had already sunk three cups in a row, and Kelce was losing his mind over it.

“Come on, man, don’t choke,” Kelce teased.

“I don’t choke,” Rafe shot back, his eyes flicking up toward the cup before he tossed the ball.

It arced through the air, spinning before landing with a satisfying plop into the last cup on the opposing side.

Kelce whooped and threw his hands in the air while Rafe just smirked, acting like it was nothing.

“Game over,” Rafe muttered, turning to glance around the room. It was the kind of scene he had grown used to, but tonight was different.

Tonight, he wasn’t just here to mess around.

He was here with you.

His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, standing by the bar, chatting with some friends. You laughed at something, the sound cutting through the noise of the party and making his chest tighten in a way that still caught him off guard.

Even after months, you still had him twisted up in knots. He could admit it to himself—he was down bad for you.

You had that way of looking at him like no one else did. Like you saw through all the bullshit he tried to hide behind.

And somehow, you still wanted him.

He couldn’t even remember what it was like not having you in his life.

The way you looked at him? It made him feel like he was more than just some rich spoiled guy trying to get by.

But then, over by the bar, some guy had sidled up next to you, talking a little too close, leaning in like he thought he had a right to.

He couldn’t hear what was being said, but the guy’s body language was enough.

Dude was smiling, leaning in, acting way too familiar. You weren’t exactly pushing him away, but Rafe could tell by the way you kept looking around that you weren’t into it either.

You were probably just being polite, like you always were.

“You gonna shoot or just stand there glaring at that dude?”

Rafe’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Kelce nodded toward you. “The one talking to your girl. Might wanna check that out. Looks like she might need a little saving.”

Rafe’s gaze snapped back to the bar.

The guy was still there, still talking, and something about it made him start to seethe. Some random asshole thinking he could just swoop in and talk to you like that while Rafe was right here?

No.

Without a word, he pushed past Topper and Kelce, his long strides eating up the distance between him and the bar.

His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, he wasn’t about to lose his shit—he knew you hated when he got all worked up.

When he finally got close enough, he slid his arm around your waist, pulling you back into his chest without hesitation.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, loud enough for the guy to hear. “Everything alright over here?”

You instantly relaxed against him, your hand coming to rest on his arm as you glanced up at him with a smile.

“Yeah, we’re good,” you said, but there was a little tension in your voice. “Just, uh—”

Before you could finish, the guy—who clearly had zero self-preservation instincts—just smirked, like he found the whole thing amusing.

“Oh, you must be the boyfriend.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, sizing the guy up. “Yeah, and you are?”

There was a brief pause before the guy extended his hand like he was being friendly or some shit.

“The ex, actually,” he said smoothly, like he didn’t just drop a bomb. “Name’s—"

Rafe didn’t hear the name. All he heard was the ex.

His grip on your waist tightened as he stared at the guy, eyes narrowing. The ex? This was the dude who used to be with you?

You quickly placed your hand on his chest, like you were trying to diffuse whatever was happening in his brain.

“Baby, it’s fine,” you assured him, looking up at him with those eyes that always calmed him down when he was seconds away from losing it. “He’s just saying hi.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything, just stared down at the guy—your ex. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell this guy to fuck off, but the way you were looking at him, the way your hand was resting on his chest, it was enough to keep him in check.

Barely.

If it wasn't for you he'd be heading fist up into a fight.

The ex gave a half-assed smile. “Anyway, I’ll let you two get back to it. Just thought I’d stop by, you know, say hey.”

Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave him until he turned and walked away. The second the guy was out of sight, he exhaled slowly, his grip on you relaxing as he let out a frustrated breath.

“Fucking seriously?” he muttered under his breath, looking down at you. “That was your ex? I didn’t even know you had an ex.”

And that was entirely his fault.

When you first started seeing each other, the thought of other guys being with you made him want to be sick, so he never asked about your dating history. The less he knew the better. 

“Yeah, I just didn’t think it mattered. It’s not like he’s been around, and I didn’t expect him to show up tonight.”

Rafe’s jaw flexed as he processed that, his eyes still looking in the direction where the guy had walked off. He hated how that word—ex—seemed to have a hold over him now. It wasn’t even that he was jealous of the guy himself.

Rafe knew you loved him.

You had made that clear more than once. It was the fact that the guy had history with you, that he had shared things with you before Rafe even came into the picture.

It woke something possessive in him.

“When did you date him?”

“I was, uh, seventeen. Maybe eighteen?” you started, your fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on his chest. “It was a long time ago.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with that.

“And?” His tone was calm, but you could tell by the way his grip on your waist tightened that he wanted more.

You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t let it go.

“We broke up when he went to college. He… cheated on me,” you added, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but Rafe stiffened at your words.

“He cheated on you? That fucker cheated on you and now he’s just strolling up, acting like he’s got the right to even talk to you?”

You reached up, gripping his face to pull his attention back to you.

“It was years ago. He means nothing to me. You know that.”

But he wasn’t letting it go that easily.

His hand came up to cover yours, his fingers threading through yours, “Yeah, but the fucking nerve of that guy, thinking he can just show up after what he did—”

You couldn’t help it—you started giggling. Rafe blinked down at you, confused for a second as your laughter caught him off guard.

“What?” he asked, brows furrowing.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the giggles, but it wasn’t working. “You sound more heartbroken about it than I do.”

Rafe’s expression morphed into one of disbelief.

“’Course I am,” he snapped, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He hurt you, 'm gonna break his face in half if he even tries to come near you again.”

That only made you laugh harder, the warmth in your chest growing as you looked up at him. The fierceness in his voice, the way he was all riled up because of something that happened years ago—it was ridiculously cute.

“You’re sooo cute when you’re protective,” you teased, reaching up to ruffle his hair slightly.

Rafe’s scowl deepened, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“I’m being serious.” His arms wrapped around you a little tighter, his protectiveness practically radiating off him. “No one gets to mess with you. Not then, not now.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I know, baby. And I love you for it.”

He grumbled under his breath, but you could tell he was softening, his hand running up and down your back in slow, reassuring strokes.

“Yeah, well, don’t let that asshole get too close again. I’m not responsible for what happens if he does.”

It made your heart skip a beat because even when he was all tough and possessive, there was something so warm and safe about being in his arms.

“Baby, you’re so serious right now,” you murmured, your fingers absentmindedly tracing little shapes on his bicep. You tilted your head up to look at him, “I mean, come on, you know you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Rafe’s blue eyes flicked down to meet yours, and he raised an eyebrow, not convinced.

“Oh, really? ’Cause I’m pretty sure your ex just tried to hit on you right in front of me.”

You let out a chuckle, standing up on your tiptoes to nuzzle into his neck, your lips brushing against his skin. “You know he doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

You felt Rafe exhale as if he needed to hear you say it again just to make sure. “Damn right,” he muttered, “But if he tries again—”

You cut him off with a playful kiss, your lips pecking softly against his, and he immediately melted into it, his fingers pressing into your spine. When you finally pulled back, your lips brushing against his as you spoke, you couldn’t help but tease him a little more.

“So, what’s it gonna take to calm you down? Do I have to keep kissing you until you stop thinking about knocking him out?”

Rafe smirked, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips.

“I mean, you could try,” his earlier grumpiness gone, “Might take a while though.” His thumb brushed over your skin, and you couldn’t help the way your body leaned into his touch.

God, you loved this man.

“Don’t be greedy.”

He tilted his head slightly, brushing his lips against your ear in a way that made you want to leave the party as soon as possible.

“I was such a gentleman back there, wasn’t I?”

“Mhm, a real knight in shining armor,” you nodded, but you couldn’t deny how much you adored him right now—especially when he was acting all possessive but trying to play it off.

“You know what they said, a gentleman in the streets, a freak in the—”

“Okay, you’re not drinking anymore.” You faux pushed him away, pretending to be exasperated. 

"C’mon, ’m not even drunk," a playful grin spread across his face, "You love it when I’m a little bit of both though."

You rolled your eyes, but the smile pulling at your lips was undeniable. “Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that.”

Rafe just grinned, that cocky edge in his eyes, knowing full well you weren’t immune to him. "You know I’m right."

His confidence was ridiculous, but also incredibly hot.

“Alrighttttt, Mr. Beer Pong Champ,” you muttered, trying to sound indifferent, but the way your body instinctively pressed into his made it pretty clear you weren’t unaffected. “Don’t let it go to your head, though.”

“Too late for that.” He smirked, his hands slipping lower as he pulled you closer. “I think you like it when ’m a little possessive.”

You bit your lip, “A little, sure. But don’t go getting all caveman on me.”

He chuckled, dipping his head down “I’ll try.”

You swatted at his chest, laughing, “Rafe Cameron, you’re impossible.”

But before he could answer, Topper walked up with that knowing grin of his, clearly having watched the whole thing from across the room. 

“You guys done playing Romeo and Juliet over here?”

You shot him a look, your cheeks heating up just a bit. “Shut up.”

Rafe just rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered. “Sorry we don’t all have to third-wheel it like you.”

Topper snorted, crossing his arms.

“Please. I’m good. Just thought I’d check if you’re gonna join the rest of us or if you’re planning on spending the rest of the night whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears.”

You gave Rafe a look, trying to suppress your smile because, honestly, you knew Topper wasn’t wrong.

You’d probably ditch the rest of the party if you could.

“We’ll join in a bit,” you said, turning to Topper with a grin, “Once Rafe is done showing off for the night.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

“God help us,” Topper muttered, but he was smiling. He pointed toward the other side of the room, where Kelce was still hyped up from the beer pong win. “The other team wants a rematch, by the way. Say they’re not going down without a fight.”

Rafe looked over,  “They’re dreaming.”

Topper shrugged. “Figured you’d say that.” He shot you a look, eyebrow raised. “Guess that means you’ll be stuck watching him crush everyone for the next hour.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Rafe gave you a playful squeeze, his grin still firmly in place. “You love watching me win.”

“Mm-hmm, sure.” He wasn’t wrong. Once Topper was gone, you turned back to Rafe, raising an eyebrow. “So, are you really gonna make me watch you play another round of beer pong?”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss your temple, “Only if you want to. Or we could get out of here. Your call.”

Your heart missed a couple beats at the way he said it, all suggestive and teasing, making it very clear what he meant.

You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes “I think I’ve seen enough beer pong for one night.”

“Good choice,” he murmured, and just as he said it, his hand slid lower, giving your ass a firm squeeze—definitely more than a playful pat.

At this point, his touching and the need for constant PDA barely phased you. You loved it.

With one last glance around the room—just to make sure no one was watching too closely—you grabbed Rafe’s hand, giving him a look that said exactly what you were both thinking.

“Let’s get out of here.”

[coracaodeleao]

"Would you fuck me if I was skinny? I fuck you now" Viktor x gn!reader

"Would you fuck me if I was skinny?"

The question hangs in the room like smoke, clinging, dense, unavoidable.

You hadn’t meant to say it. Not really. It slipped out in a breath between insecurity and laughter, meant to be brushed away before it landed. But it did land—right in Viktor’s lap, where he sat with one knee tucked beneath him, thin fingers stilling over the edge of his cane.

His brow furrows.

“Why would you say that?” he asks, voice low and a little hoarse, like it caught on something soft in his throat.

You try to wave it off. Joke. Shrug. But your smile doesn't reach your eyes. “I mean… you’re you. Tall, sharp, smart. All limbs and cheekbones. And I’m…” You gesture vaguely, not needing to finish the sentence.

Viktor exhales, slow and deliberate. He sets his cane aside, carefully. Moves toward you—not with urgency, but intention.

“I do not fuck you in some imaginary version,” he says, and there’s something molten under his words now. “I fuck you now.”

Heat creeps up your neck, your ears. “Viktor—”

He silences you with a look. Not harsh. Not pitiful. Just... full. Of everything you couldn’t believe someone might feel for you like this.

“I want you,” he says, his hand resting against your waist like it belongs there, not flinching from the softness, not pretending it’s something to ignore. “Exactly like this. You think I don’t notice the way you move? The way you take up space like the world hasn’t earned you yet?”

You blink, and your breath trembles.

“I don’t want less of you,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “I want all of you.”

You don’t know what to say. Or maybe you do, but your throat feels too full to let anything out.

Viktor doesn’t push. He just looks at you like there’s no one else he’d rather be looking at. Like he’s not waiting for you to become something different, something smaller, something else. He’s here for you, and the quiet weight of that truth settles over your skin like a blanket pulled fresh from the sun.

“I don’t want less of you,” he says again, softer now, like a secret. “And I don’t want you only when you imagine yourself changed. I want you when you're laughing so hard you shake the whole bed. I want you when you’re certain I’ll come to my senses. I want you when you ask that question like it hasn’t already been answered a hundred times, in every way I know how.”

His fingers brush your jaw, then trace the curve behind your ear, feather-light. His touch is reverent, but sure. No hesitation.

“You are not a compromise,” he says. “You are what I want.”

The kiss comes like gravity. Natural. Inevitable.

It starts soft—his lips pressing against yours like a promise he’s been waiting to make—but it doesn’t stay that way. Not for long. Because once your hands find his narrow waist, once he feels the way you hold him like he might disappear if you let go, he melts. Into you, onto you, against you. His frame trembling with the same want that’s burning through yours.

You feel him like a live wire—his body lean and tense, every motion sharpened by need. He doesn’t overwhelm; he fits. And he holds you like he’s starved for something only you can give.

“I fuck you now,” he whispers again, this time against your neck, and there’s no more doubt in it. Just certainty. Heat. Devotion.

And this time, you believe him.

He doesn’t rush. Never does. Viktor’s the kind of man who studies everything like it’s worth knowing—you included. Especially you.

His hands move with purpose now, slow but unrelenting, undoing the distance between you piece by piece. When fabric shifts, it’s like he’s peeling the world back just to find skin beneath it. His breath warms the places he uncovers, and he’s whispering things you can barely catch—soft praises in that accent-laced voice, too close to your ear, too tender to ignore.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmurs, kissing a path down the side of your throat. “You think I care for angles and bones when it’s you that ruins me like this?”

He presses against you, hips already betraying the control his voice pretends to hold. He’s hard. You can feel it, and the knowledge of it makes your whole body tighten with want. But more than that—it’s the way he touches you like he’s learning you for the first time and memorizing you for the hundredth. He doesn’t skip over anything. Every inch of you is received. Held. Wanted.

When you arch into him, he groans, low and broken, like the sound has been sitting in his chest for hours just waiting to escape.

His hands guide yours, dragging them under the hem of his shirt, letting you feel the sharp lines of him, the tension in his stomach, the shiver in his spine when you touch something just right.

“You make me—” he cuts off with another kiss, deeper now, more urgent, like he can’t bear being separate for even a breath longer. “Let me show you.”

And when he sinks into you—slow, careful, deliberate—it feels like gravity tipping sideways. Like everything real has narrowed to this: the stretch, the heat, the press of him fitting into every part of you like he’s meant to be there.

He curses in his mother tongue, forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged.

“You feel—gods, you feel perfect,” he chokes out. “You always do.”

The rhythm he finds is gentle but firm, hips snapping just enough to make you gasp, to make him bite his lip at the sound. He’s murmuring things now, almost delirious with the feel of you—how warm, how real, how here you are.

“I want you loud,” he says, voice thick and low. “Want to hear what I do to you.”

And you give it to him—all the sounds he asks for, all the breathless gasps, the broken moans. Because it’s him. Because it’s Viktor. Because he’s touching you like you’re a prayer he didn’t know he still believed in.

And by the time you both fall apart, tangled and panting, neither of you has anything left to prove.