#bangles types

[banglesblog]

Different Types of Bangles

Bangles have been an integral part of traditional and contemporary jewelry for centuries, adored for their elegance, symbolism, and versatility. They are crafted in various designs, styles, and materials to suit every taste and occasion. Among the myriad options available, metal bangles stand out as timeless pieces, combining durability with style. In this article, we’ll explore the different types of metal bangles and delve into the variety and styles they offer.

Types of Metal Bangles

1. Gold Bangles

Gold bangles are synonymous with luxury and tradition. They are a staple in bridal trousseaus and festive occasions. Gold bangles can range from simple, sleek designs to intricate patterns embedded with gemstones. Variants include:

Plain Gold Bangles: Minimalist and perfect for daily wear.

Antique Gold Bangles: Featuring vintage designs, often with an oxidized finish.

Temple Bangles: Embellished with religious motifs and carvings.

2. Silver Bangles

Silver bangles are cherished for their affordability and understated elegance. They complement both traditional and modern outfits. Types of silver bangles include:

Oxidized Silver Bangles: Popular for their rustic charm and bohemian appeal.

Sterling Silver Bangles: Made from high-quality silver, often paired with gemstones.

Engraved Silver Bangles: Featuring intricate patterns or personalized inscriptions.

3. Platinum Bangles

Platinum bangles exude sophistication and exclusivity. Their subtle sheen and hypoallergenic properties make them a favorite among those with sensitive skin. Platinum bangles are often:

Plain and Polished: For a minimalist, modern look.

Gemstone-Studded: Featuring diamonds or colored stones for added glamour.

Twisted Designs: Offering a contemporary and unique aesthetic.

4. Copper Bangles

Copper bangles are admired not only for their earthy appeal but also for their health benefits. Many believe that wearing copper can help alleviate joint pain and improve circulation. Popular styles include:

Hammered Copper Bangles: With a raw and textured finish.

Antique Copper Bangles: Featuring oxidized surfaces for a vintage vibe.

Magnetic Copper Bangles: Designed for therapeutic purposes.

5. Brass Bangles

Brass bangles offer a warm golden hue at a fraction of the cost of gold. They are often crafted into bold and statement-making designs. Common types include:

Ethnic Brass Bangles: Adorned with tribal or folk patterns.

Polished Brass Bangles: With a shiny, reflective surface.

Mixed Metal Bangles: Combining brass with silver or copper for a striking effect.

6. Steel Bangles

Steel bangles are the epitome of durability and modernity. They are often associated with Sikh traditions, particularly the kara. Steel bangles are:

Plain Stainless Steel: Simple and long-lasting.

Colored Steel Bangles: Available in rose gold, black, or other hues.

Engraved Steel Bangles: Featuring motifs or inspirational quotes.

7. Bronze Bangles

Bronze bangles have an antique allure and are often chosen for their vintage aesthetic. These bangles can be crafted into:

Chunky Bronze Bangles: For bold, statement looks.

Filigree Bronze Bangles: With delicate, lacy designs.

Antique Finish Bangles: Featuring an aged patina.

8. Aluminum Bangles

Lightweight and vibrant, aluminum bangles are perfect for casual wear. They are often:

Color-Coated: Available in various shades to match outfits.

Embossed Aluminum Bangles: With raised designs for added texture.

Stackable: Sold in sets to create a layered look.

9. Titanium Bangles

Titanium bangles are prized for their strength and lightweight nature. They are ideal for those seeking durable yet stylish accessories. Styles include:

Minimalist Designs: Perfect for daily wear.

Brushed Titanium Bangles: With a matte finish.

Engraved Titanium Bangles: Personalized with messages or patterns.

Variety of Bangles

In addition to metal types, bangles come in various designs and combinations, offering endless possibilities for accessorizing. These include:

Cuff Bangles: Wider and open-ended for easy wear.

Hinged Bangles: With a clasp or hinge for secure fastening.

Stackable Bangles: Thin and often worn in multiples.

Textured Bangles: Featuring hammered, engraved, or braided patterns.

Bangles for Every Occasion

The versatility of metal bangles makes them suitable for every occasion. Here’s how you can style them:

Daily Wear: Opt for lightweight, plain bangles made of silver or stainless steel.

Workplace: Minimalist gold, platinum, or titanium bangles add a touch of elegance.

Festive Events: Antique gold or gemstone-studded bangles pair beautifully with ethnic attire.

Casual Outings: Choose stackable or colorful aluminum bangles for a fun, playful look.

Conclusion

Metal bangles, with their diverse types and styles, are a must-have in every jewelry collection. Whether you prefer the timeless charm of gold and silver or the contemporary appeal of titanium and steel, there’s a bangle for everyone. By exploring the variety of bangles available, you can find the perfect accessory to express your style and celebrate every moment.

[bmpmp3]

last night i had a dream i had a hysterectomy (something i want) and to commemorate after healing i got my ears pierced (also something i want) but specifically i got an extra piercing on one ear near the top with the intention of putting triangle shaped earrings in it to bring to mind the ear notches of TNR feral cats. i had a dream i fulfilled my true desire of being spayed.

[born-to-lose]

Realized I have a lot more 70s style clothes than 80s

[ironmusicnight]

A Complete Guide to the Different Types of Bangles

Bangles are timeless accessories that have adorned wrists for centuries, representing cultural heritage, tradition, and personal style. Available in a variety of materials, designs, and styles, bangles can be both traditional and contemporary. This guide explores the different types of bangles, their significance, and how to style them for different occasions.

The Cultural Significance of Bangles

Bangles hold deep cultural and symbolic meanings across the world. In India, they are worn by brides as a sign of prosperity and marital happiness, while in other cultures, they symbolize status, wealth, and spiritual beliefs. Over the years, bangles have evolved beyond tradition and have become fashion statements embraced globally.

Types of Bangles

1. Metal Bangles

Metal bangles, often made of gold, silver, or platinum, are widely cherished for their durability and elegance. Gold bangles are especially significant in Indian culture, symbolizing prosperity and marital bliss. Silver bangles, on the other hand, are known for their health benefits and aesthetic appeal. Platinum bangles, though rare, offer a luxurious and modern touch.

2. Glass Bangles

Glass bangles are vibrant, delicate, and widely worn in South Asia. These bangles come in various colors and are often associated with celebrations and festivals. In Indian weddings, brides wear red and green glass bangles as a symbol of good fortune and happiness. The delicate tinkling sound they make is also considered auspicious.

3. Lac Bangles

Lac bangles are handcrafted from natural resin and are known for their intricate designs and bright colors. These bangles are especially popular in Rajasthan, India, and are often embellished with beads, stones, and mirror work. They are lightweight, making them comfortable to wear for extended periods.

4. Wooden Bangles

Eco-friendly and stylish, wooden bangles offer a unique, rustic appeal. They are commonly hand-painted or carved with intricate patterns and are perfect for casual or bohemian looks. Wooden bangles can also be polished or coated with lacquer for a glossy finish, adding an earthy charm to any outfit.

5. Plastic Bangles

Affordable and available in countless designs, plastic bangles are a popular choice for everyday wear. They come in a variety of colors, patterns, and sizes, making them a fun and versatile accessory. They are especially popular among young girls and are often mixed with other types of bangles to create stylish stacks.

6. Stone-Studded Bangles

These bangles are adorned with precious or semi-precious stones, enhancing their beauty and making them ideal for special occasions. Gemstones like rubies, emeralds, and diamonds add a touch of elegance to any outfit. Stone-studded bangles are often paired with traditional attire for weddings and festive celebrations.

7. Thread Bangles

Thread bangles, wrapped in colorful silk or cotton threads, are lightweight and stylish. They are often handcrafted and can be customized with beads, pearls, and charms to match different outfits. These bangles provide a unique blend of tradition and modernity, making them suitable for both ethnic and casual ensembles.

8. Kada Bangles

Kada bangles are thick, rigid, and usually made of metal. They are a significant part of Sikh and Punjabi culture, often worn by both men and women as a symbol of strength and faith. Some kada bangles are intricately designed with engravings, while others are simple and unadorned, representing spiritual devotion.

9. Cuff Bangles

Unlike traditional bangles, cuff bangles have an open-ended design, making them easy to wear and adjust. They are modern, stylish, and available in a variety of materials like metal, leather, and resin. Cuff bangles are perfect for stacking with other bracelets or wearing as standalone statement pieces.

10. Acrylic Bangles

Acrylic bangles are lightweight and available in vibrant colors and patterns. They are perfect for casual wear and can mimic the look of glass or metal bangles without the fragility or heaviness. These bangles are great for adding a pop of color to any outfit and are particularly trendy among fashion-conscious individuals.

How to Style Bangles for Different Occasions

Bangles can be styled in multiple ways to enhance any outfit. Here are some styling tips:

Traditional Events & Weddings: Opt for gold, stone-studded, or glass bangles paired with ethnic attire like sarees or lehengas for an elegant look.

Casual Outings: Wooden, thread, or acrylic bangles complement casual outfits and give a fun, boho-chic vibe.

Office & Formal Wear: Minimalist metal or cuff bangles add a touch of sophistication to professional attire without being too flashy.

Festivals & Celebrations: Lac or brightly colored bangles can make any festive outfit stand out.

Layering & Mixing: Mix different types of bangles, such as metal with thread or glass with wooden bangles, to create a unique, personalized stack.

Conclusion

Bangles are more than just accessories—they carry deep cultural and personal significance. Whether you prefer the elegance of metal bangles, the vibrancy of glass bangles, or the modern appeal of cuff bangles, there is a style to suit every occasion. Understanding the different types of bangles can help you choose the perfect ones to complement your look and express your individuality. No matter your style, there’s a bangle type that will enhance your beauty and make a statement.

[fashionsray]

Women’s Bangles – The Gold-Plated Elegance

Bangle bracelets have long been a staple in women’s jewelry collections, symbolizing tradition, beauty, and grace. Among the most sought-after styles are gold-plated bangle bracelets, which combine the opulence of gold with affordability. These bracelets are versatile enough to enhance both traditional and contemporary outfits, making them a favorite for women of all ages.

Why Choose Gold-Plated Bangle Bracelets?

Gold-plated bangle bracelets are not only elegant but also practical for everyday wear. Here’s why they are a popular choice:

Luxurious Look Without the High Cost: These bangles replicate the appearance of solid gold, offering the same charm at a fraction of the price.

Durable Shine: High-quality gold plating ensures a long-lasting, polished look that resists tarnishing.

Variety of Designs: From intricate patterns to minimalist styles, gold-plated bangle bracelets cater to every taste.

Popular Gold Bangle Type Bracelet Designs

Gold bangle type bracelets come in various designs, allowing women to select styles that resonate with their personality and wardrobe.

Classic Smooth Bangles

Sleek and timeless, these bangles are ideal for those who prefer understated elegance.

Perfect for daily wear or as a complementary piece to other jewelry.

Intricate Traditional Designs

Adorned with detailed carvings or motifs, these bangles reflect cultural heritage.

Often paired with traditional outfits for weddings, festivals, or celebrations.

Stone-Studded Bangles

Featuring cubic zirconia, colored stones, or pearls, these bangles add a touch of sparkle and sophistication.

A great choice for festive or formal occasions.

Styling Gold-Plated Bangle Bracelets

Gold-plated bangle bracelets are incredibly versatile and can be styled in various ways to suit different occasions.

Stacking for a Contemporary Look Layer multiple bangles of varying designs and sizes to create a trendy, bohemian vibe. You can even mix gold-plated bangles with silver or beaded bracelets for a unique twist.

Pairing with Traditional Outfits For a classic and elegant look, match intricate gold bangle type bracelet designs with sarees, lehengas, or anarkalis. Add gold-plated earrings or a necklace set for a complete ensemble.

Minimalistic Everyday Style Opt for a single, sleek gold-plated bangle bracelet to wear with casual or office attire. It adds a touch of elegance without overpowering your look.

Caring for Your Gold-Plated Bangles

To ensure your gold-plated bangle bracelets remain in pristine condition:

Avoid Exposure to Moisture: Keep your bracelets away from water, sweat, and perfumes to maintain their shine.

Store Them Properly: Use a soft pouch or a separate compartment in your jewelry box to avoid scratches.

Gentle Cleaning: Wipe your bangles with a soft, damp cloth and avoid abrasive cleaners.

Perfect for Every Occasion

Gold-plated women's bangle bracelets are ideal for everything from daily wear to festive celebrations. Their affordability and elegance make them a practical choice for women who love the charm of gold but prefer budget-friendly options. Whether you’re attending a wedding, a family gathering, or simply heading to work, these bangles add a touch of sophistication to your ensemble.

Gold bangle type bracelet designs are more than just jewelry; they are expressions of style, culture, and individuality. Add them to your collection and experience the timeless allure of this versatile accessory.

[archanasinghrathore]

Different Types of Bangles: A Stunning Variety for Every Style

Bangles are timeless accessories that have adorned wrists across cultures and generations. Their appeal lies not only in their beauty but also in the way they can enhance any outfit. With an incredible variety of styles, materials, and designs, bangles offer something for everyone. Let’s explore the different types of bangles available today, celebrating the stunning diversity that this jewelry category has to offer.

1. Traditional Bangles

Traditional bangles often hold cultural significance and are crafted with intricate designs. In many cultures, such as Indian and Middle Eastern, bangles are part of significant rituals, symbolizing marital status and cultural heritage. Common materials for these bangles include gold, silver, and brass. Gold bangles are particularly popular for weddings and festive occasions, often adorned with gemstones or delicate engravings that reflect the craftsmanship of skilled artisans.

2. Glass Bangles

Glass bangles are a vibrant and colorful option that has gained popularity, especially in South Asian cultures. These bangles come in an array of colors and are often worn in stacks for a striking effect. The beauty of glass bangles lies in their delicate craftsmanship, with many pieces hand-painted or embellished with intricate patterns. They are lightweight, making them comfortable for everyday wear, while also adding a pop of color to any outfit.

3. Wooden Bangles

Eco-friendly and unique, wooden bangles are a great choice for those who appreciate natural materials. Often handcrafted, these bangles can showcase intricate carvings or simple, polished finishes. Wooden bangles are versatile and can be worn casually or dressed up for a more sophisticated look. They are often painted or stained in various colors, allowing for customization that suits individual tastes.

4. Metal Bangles

Metal bangles are a staple in many jewelry collections. Available in various metals such as silver, gold, copper, and stainless steel, these bangles can range from minimalist to ornate designs. They can be worn individually for a sleek look or stacked for a more dramatic statement. Some metal bangles feature intricate designs, while others may have a sleek, modern finish, making them suitable for both casual and formal settings.

5. Charm Bangles

Charm bangles offer a personalized touch, allowing wearers to express their individuality. These bangles can be adorned with charms that represent interests, milestones, or cherished memories. Whether made from metal, leather, or elastic, charm bangles can be customized with an assortment of charms, making each piece unique. They are perfect for layering and can easily transition from day to night.

6. Cuff Bangles

Cuff bangles, with their open designs, provide a bold statement while being easy to wear. Often wider than traditional bangles, they can feature embellishments like gemstones, engravings, or intricate cut-out patterns. Cuff bangles are ideal for those who prefer a more contemporary style and can be paired with other wrist accessories for a layered look.

7. Friendship Bangles

Friendship bangles symbolize camaraderie and connection. Typically made from colorful threads or beads, these bangles are often exchanged among friends to signify loyalty and affection. They are usually lightweight and can be layered for a playful, bohemian look.

Conclusion

With so many types of bangles available, it’s easy to find pieces that resonate with personal style and cultural significance. Whether you prefer the elegance of traditional gold bangles, the vibrancy of glass bangles, or the uniqueness of handmade wooden styles, there is a stunning variety for every taste. Bangles not only elevate your outfit but also carry stories and meanings, making them a cherished addition to any jewelry collection.

[benefits-of-wearing-bangles]

The Benefits of Wearing Glass Bangles: Tradition, Style, and Well-Being

Bangles hold importance in Indian culture, whether Hindu, Sikh, Jain, Muslim, or Christian. Apart from the designs and decoration, married and unmarried women consider the glass bangles auspicious and worn.

In Southeast Asia, especially Indian culture, bangles have been among the most adorning ornaments since the Indus Civilisation.

Here, women wear bangles as they hold symbols behind them and for fashion. In today's blog, we will be delving into the various types of fancy glass bangles and the different types of glass bangles design.

Read the blog on How to Style Crystal Bangles: Tips from Fashion Experts, style them with the right colour and dress them in this Baisakhi!

Significance of Wearing Fancy Glass Bangles by Women in India

Glass bangles are one of the most worn ornaments on the wrists, and they have bright colours and designs. With a rich meaning behind it, women of all ages love to adorn themselves with intriguing designs made from different materials.

There is a belief about why married women wear glass bangles. It is believed that wearing glass bangles brings good fortune to the husband and the family in general.

Over time, bangles have become much more trendy and fancy, with much more intricate designs to suit contemporary demands. From brides-to-be to women in general, people are wearing bangles for different reasons.

It is believed that when a woman wears glass bangles, the sounds produced by the bangles keep away negativity and bring positivity to the home. Moreover, they add personality, beauty, and elegance to the woman who wears them, reflecting her sensitive heart and love for her loved ones. The fragility of the bangles signifies the fragility of the relationship and life in general.

Well, let's get to the colour and what it signifies.

Bangles Colours and Its Meaning

There are different trendy and fancy glass bangles out there, but there are colours that signify something positive. So, let's take a look at the colours and their meanings!

Red colour bangles signify love and luck. In North and West India, a married woman wears red bagels to represent happiness, luck, and a new beginning.

Green Colour Bangles signify auspiciousness and fertility. According to Ayurvedic, green bangles are therapeutic, promote blood circulation, relieve stress, and promote overall well-being. It is also believed that wearing green glass bangles brings good fortune and positivity to the person wearing them.

Yellow Bangles are symbols of happiness.

Wearing white bangles means new beginnings.

And orange glass bangles signify success.

Silver bangles are to signify strength.

Gold Bangles are symbols of good fortune.

The Material Use in Making Fancy Bangles

Glass bangles are unique in design and how they are made. Among the other materials used in making bangles, glass offers the flexibility needed by the maker to create the necessary designs and shapes.

When it comes to bangles made from glass, the materials used are block glass in different shades of colour or directly from batch material. Glass bangles are in increased demand among women, especially during festivals, over plastic bangles.

Let's take a look at the materials used to make this unique glass bangle design.

Zari is a shimmering strip that is included in the bangle's designs to give a shiny look to the bangles. And Hil is a bracelet polished in gold and silver. Soda Ash (33%), Silica Sand (66%), Chemicals (1%), and Soda Lime Silica Glass are made at around 1450 degrees Celsius. Lead glass, often known as soft glass, contains about 24% lead (Pb) as an essential ingredient. Soda Lime Glass is used in the manufacturing of the majority of items.

Fancy Glass Bangles Designs a Sign of Craftmanship

Glass bangles are more than just colourful circles. They offer a whole lot of other creative and stunning designs, adding elegance and femininity to the one who wears them.

Many artisans use various techniques to create beautiful designs on it here, how glass bangles are a unique work of art and design.

Artisans hand-painted the glass with intricate designs like floral and even miniature portraits to add the beauty of springtime to your wrist.

Geometric shapes and vibrant colours are fused to create a stunning and unique look on glass bangle designs, giving them a contemporary feel.

Adding a shimmer of gold and silver foils gives a set of bangles a touch of luxury, making it perfect for every special occasion.

Tinny beads of sparkling stones are embedded in the glass to create a dazzling look on your wrist.

Symbolism and Personal Expression

For many individuals, wearing fancy glass bangles is not just about ornamentation but also a form of personal expression. The colours, designs, and styles can reflect one's personality, mood, or cultural identity.

Moreover, another thing that sets bangles apart from glass is their versatility and accessibility. Many women may prefer to associate them with traditional attire, but you can give them a modern look by pairing them with other Western attire, too.

Compared to other materials, glass bangles are more affordable and are a popular choice among many women.

If you prefer a more sophisticated look, you can go for thin bangles. However, for a much more bolder look, you can even go for more subtle and delicate designs like the kada or bracelet.

From selecting to wearing different colours, bangles become a way of expressing individuality and celebrating one's unique sense of style.

If you are looking for unique and good-quality glass bangle designs, visit the Golden Cascade website and check out for the latest and intriguing designs to wear on any occasion or for your daily wear.

Read the blog 10 Benefits of Wearing Glass Benefits to learn more about what benefits it can give you.

Conclusion

In conclusion, fancy glass bangles are much more than just decorative accessories. They embody centuries of tradition, craftsmanship, and cultural significance for women who wear them. It tells a story of heritage and personal expression. Whether you wear them during special occasions or as everyday adornments, glass bangles continue to captivate and inspire, bridging the past with the present and celebrating the beauty of diversity and tradition.

[ookaryi]

Nahida redesign! Breakdown below

So I adore Nahida as character, but especially as a southasian I always wished she would have more cultural motifs in her design. I really wanted to see something that could be realistically in the game, that adds to the original, while retaining the few great details hyv put in her design so I thought why not do it myself!

I based her dress on the lehenga instead of having the basic dress, as it's closest to her silhouette (missed opportunity!!!!!!). Its traditional wear, yet not as ancient as the saree which i thought fits nahidas youthfulness. Tbh I just split the dress in 2 lol, as i love her patterns

These prominently feature the bodhi leaf, which in buddhism symbolizes enlightenment and wisdom. So it was important for me to not alter those elements, and I changed almost nothing else on the dress.

What I did change are the sleeve things (?) To an actual dupatta, which is a type of long scarf. Put even more bodhi symbols there. Sorry for bad pic

Additionally I added a maang tikka (head jewelry) and earrings. I kept her bangle and the ghanta bell (used in hindu rituals) on the back as these are the other cultural elements she has.

The Mehndi design is a Lotus to reference one of her inspirations: Anahita, persian goddess of wisdom and flowing waters and where Nahida's name comes from. She is also inspired by hindu goddesses like Saraswati (also goddess of wisdom and more), Aranyani (forest goddess) , a forest fairy from the buddhist Kusanali Jataka tale, and likely even more.

And for the last detail: I gave her anklets, in reference to Aranyani/Rukkhadevata.

One of Rukkhadevatas title was Queen Aranyani, and the actual real goddess is said to have worn anklets with bells that were heard in the forest. Tho I removed the bells, since Rukkhadevata is dead and forgotten now, and so you can't hear her anymore. :')

Bc of it's purpose it's not the flashiest design, but I had so much fun researching, learning so many new things and trying to incorporate them back to Nahidas design! If someone educated has more to add or something I can correct I'd love to hear :)

[cranberrydietcoke]

euphoria - r.c

ex bf ! rafe cameron x kook princess ! reader

content: 18+, drinking & drug use, drunk/high sex, degrading names (slut, whore, bitch), on camera type shit, kinda public party sex, my y/ns are always cream team soz, kinda dubcon ig, he makes her say ily, creampie. def giving s1 fratboy rafe. non-descriptive except for tanned skin n u curl ur hair!

a/n: first rafe fic eeeep! many more to come tho i deadass have feelings for him it’s a problem. & thx u for the luv on my last two fics !! preesh u bad bitches

wc: 3k

your fingers intertwined with sutton’s as she pulled you along, splitting the tight crowd of snapbacks and miniskirts. smoke hung over the purple atmosphere as some future song boomed from the speakers. you greeted each spinning face you slid by with a slurred sorry baby! or scuse’ me!

“bitch nooo, come the fuck onnnnn,” she pleaded, jerking you away from the random man you were offering your vape to.

“later okay! come smoke w’me!” you yelled back at him, trying to communicate with charades as sutton pulled you deeper into the heart of the party. he was cute, but you knew you wouldn’t see him later, considering rafe was about twenty feet away slicing lines on the kitchen counter. the baby pink polo hugged his bicep as he bent over, rolled dollar bill tight between his fingers.

fuck. i miss that platinum card.

a few months ago, you and rafe  were the it couple of kildare, without question. luxury vacations, designer swimwear, a mercedes for christmas, days in the yacht. it was like kim and fucking kanye. even more so now. a breakup had never lasted more than a few hours, usually ending with you both getting high and rafe fucking an ‘im sorry’ out of you. but this time, you were actually done with his shit, done having a screaming match every day, done apologizing all the time just so he wouldn’t blow up. sure, it was sad at first. but when it was posted on figure8insider, you had finally reached the last stage of grief: acceptance.

“like why do they even fucking care?” you barked, scrunching a warm, fresh curl in your hand. “how do they even know? shit’s like tmz.” spinning in your satin vanity chair, you turned to face your friend before sashaying to your closet.

“they act like we’re soooo a-list. i’m with your ass every day, you are NOT that interesting,” sutton chuckled, adjusting the strap of her top and checking herself out in the mirror. with topper’s parents away in the virgin islands, his annual end-of-summer banger was everybody’s move for the night, and you were certain rafe was gonna be there.  

“right?” you blew clouds of strawberry pound cake as you rummaged through hangers, “like, i’m not an influencer.”

it came out like a lie, and in a way, it was. you were the sweetheart of the island’s restless and entitled youth, their very own people’s princess. your strapless black dress could only be worn after sundown, barely covering the lower curve of your ass, delicate pink ribbons holding together the cutout of your cleavage. a stack of expensive gold bangles chimed together as you stuffed all your shit into your purse, slammed another shooter, and dialed reagan for a ride.

“you know rafe’s gonna be there, right?” she asked, turning the music down and casting a glance at you from the driver’s seat. you suck your teeth behind your glittery lips.

“duh, bitch! why do you think she got that on?” sutton screamed from the back, making all three of you die in laughter as you hid your face. just like, one more time wouldn’t hurt.

even under the kaleidoscope of neon lights, you could tell the whole room’s attention turned toward you as you danced your way in. sneaking a seltzer from the cooler, you settled at the beer pong table where a group of wannabe finance bros crushed solo cups of natty light, shooting each other starstruck glances and sharing whispers as you glided through, greeting everyone with an indifferent wave and an insincere heyyyyyyy.

“yo, rafe, your girl’s over there,” kelce leaned in, motioning over to the enveloping swarm of people growing around you.

“bro, top,” rafe fell back, slapping topper in the chest, “why the fuck did you even invite her?” he spat out, eyes pulsing.

“dude…why wouldn’t i invite her…” topper stated plainly, as if rafe had asked if the sky was fucking blue. if you weren’t there, that shit was a flop.

“that bitch,” he started, shaky hands sliding in to search his pockets, “that bitch is fucking crazy, okay?” he pulled out a dime bag and his wallet, eyeing his friends who knew better than to speak. he tapped some out on the granite countertop, lining it up nice and clean with his american express, hinging at the waist to align a rolled 20 with the powder, making it disappear in one snort.

before it could register, sutton was dragging you through the sea of people and closer and closer to rafe, forcing you to abandon the crowd of drooling fans. gripping your shoulders, she planted you right in front of him. you looked up, caught between a flash of fear and drunken amusement, an absent smile playing on your face.

“be good okay?” she chided, lightly slapping your back with beaming pride, “text me if you need anything!”

he wiped the excess powder off his nostril with a laugh of disbelief as he stood over you, studying your face. all you can manage is a squeaky and breathless hi as your tipsy blush deepens.

“hey, kid. miss me or somethin’?” he mocked, bringing the tips of his fingers to brush against your arm. 

“oh my god rafe, be serious,” you scoff, batting away his large, lingering hands.

“aw, what? don’t wanna share a blunt with me like we used to?” he drew out, words dripping in honeyed hatred. almost made you forget all the shit he’d put you through. the familiar teal of his eyes roamed over every square inch of your freckled and exposed skin.

“fuck no,” you laughed, watching as his tongue swiped against his bottom lip, “no tellin’ where your mouth has been.”

“right, “ his eyes narrowed as he crouched down, inches from your face, “like you’re some fuckin’ angel.”

breath hot on your lips, encapsulating you with the smell of stout liquor and le labo santal. “won’t smoke with me, but you’ll smoke with ole boy?” he spoke, low and calm through heaving breaths as he motioned with a sharp hand towards the brunette you’d ran into.

fuck. he heard you.

 “i see how it is…bein’ an attention whore since you left, huh?” he backed up, wiping the wetness off his lower lip with the same hand.

“don’t piss me off,” you rolled your eyes, “come on.”  taking his wrist into your hand and leading him towards the balcony door. he had an uncanny talent for manipulating the situation, planting the illusion you had the upper hand, although you never did. you were unknowingly right where he wanted you. digging into your purse, you pull out an m&m mini’s tube, popping it open and flipping it vertically. a blunt slid out and into your fingers, perfectly rolled.

the coastal air was thick with humidity, only lit by the light poles on the beach. rafe’s chest hovered over your back as you stepped out into the salty breeze, brushing strands of hair out of your eyes and positioning the blunt between your lips. just as you fished for your lighter, he moved faster, sparking a flame under his calloused thumb and bringing it closer. he watched you as the fire cast a glow on your half-lidded gaze, crackling lightly as you inhaled. as mean and vile and ungrateful as he was, he truthfully couldn’t imagine himself with another girl. you were bitchy, high maintenance, never satisfied, spoiled, whiny, just so unknowingly powerful. but god, you were fucking perfect. who else on this island would be able to handle you?

“you know,” you hissed, drawing the smoke sharply between your teeth before releasing it in a hazy stream that slipped through the perfect, glossy ‘o’ formed by the soft contour of your lips. “it wasn’t as devastating as i thought it was gonna be.” you sputter, nudging it towards his towering frame which stood outlined by the glow of the orange lanterns. he hit it, tiny little consecutive pecks that made the tip flash on and off.

“really?” he choked between inhales. “cause you look pretty devastated to me.” he smirked, stepping closer, blowing the potent smoke into your parted lips as you instinctively breathe it in. “you miss me?”

“maybe just a little,” you tease, watching the satisfied smirk grow on his face. his free hand traced the curve of your collarbone, fingers lightly brushing the tousled strands of your hair off your shoulder. he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tanned skin.

“i miss your carrdddd, that nice big boattt, the presents.” you sing with a smug smile, hands snaking around his neck, his fingers finding the cushion of your hips, moving and swaying together.

“oh, shut the fuck up,” he looked down at you, dilated pupils scanning your face, “nobody’s fucking you like me, bet that,” a dry laugh left his throat.

“ugh,” you crash into his chest, pressing your cheek into the dry cleaned ralph lauren. whining  ihateyouihateyouihateyou’s.

steady and smooth, he discarded the blunt, wrapping his hands around your back, groping and pawing at your half-revealed ass. without thinking, you lift onto your tippy toes, breath coming in shallow gasps, lips lingering over his open mouth. without warning, his tongue fought its way in, swirling with yours in a hot, desperate hail mary. your lips met in sloppy smacks, stumbling over each other until he eventually had your hips pressed against the side railing.

pulling away, he spoke, low and from his chest. “you hate me? yeah? or do you just miss my dick in you,” his face lingered over yours, “n’ it’s got you all fuckin’ bothered.” you felt the puff of breath with each word. “say it,” he coaxed, hiking up the front of your dress to thumb at the hem of your panties, “say you want me to take that pussy.” his long fingers ran over your clothed clit, making your hips roll against the opulent stone that hung over the thornton estate. he chuckled, shaking his head as his gaze fixed between your legs. “it’s fuckin’ mine anyways.”  

your lips chased after his as he stepped back, tsking at you, still holding you steady by the waist. “nah, baby. gotta say it,”

you closed the distance, pressing your soft, heavy tits into the muscle of his abdomen and the pads of your fingertips into his bicep. face so close to yours, a smirk practically tangible in the air.

“pleaseeeee rafe, i need it,” you panted out, desperate and erratic. “just one more time.” your eyes traced him up and down, sinking into cross-faded euphoria. a single, needy tear fell from the corner of your glittery and bloodshot eye, streaking down your flushed cheek. brushing his lips against you, he flicked his tongue, tracing the path of the teardrop. you moan at the warmth against your cool skin, reaching down to guide his hand between your legs.

“fuck, such a slut.” he breathes out, cupping your dripping cunt and meeting your lips in a deep, perverse kiss. the kind that you just can't help but pull back a little bit. “missed you, missed this pussy.” he spoke in a low guttural rasp, almost inaudible. his wide build shielded you from the large glass doors that led into the party, hooking his fingers in the fabric of your panties and yanking them down, dipping his middle finger into the wetness pooling at your entrance.

“god, need this shit,” he groaned, swiping his finger gently up and down, circling your bundle of nerves. “turn around.”

he gave the command yet didn’t wait for a response, his firm grip on your waist flipping you the other way, leaving no room for a fight. bent over the balcony balustrade, your head hung in the air, looking down at the pool that sat twenty feet below. one of rafe’s hands pinned you over the railing by the back of the neck while the other played and prodded at your hole, getting you ready for him. discreetly, he worked his cock loose, rubbing the tip through your slick folds.

“rafeeee,” you muffle out, face smushed against the stone and immobile from the strength of his grasp. “not here, please, ca-can we just go inside?”

“nahh, i don’t think so, baby. this is what you wanted, right?” his hand slid down, wrapping a fist into the bunched fabric of your dress, pressing into you. your walls fluttered against him, a feeling so familiar yet so distant. lasers from the party strobed through the window, flashing by you. knees buckling, you couldn’t help but wiggle your ass back against him.

“god – fuck!” you squeal out, feeling him balls deep in you, guiding you down his length and filling you to the hilt. reaching into the pocket of his khakis, which still hung low on his hips, he fishes his phone out. with a quick flick, snapchat is open and the flash is washing over you. even with your head hung over the railing, you could still see the spotlight focused on your tight, twitching hole. he slides in and out, using your dress to manipulate the rhythm of your body. capturing everyyyy moment.

“this s’my shit, huh?” he panted out, your ass recoiling against each harsh thrust. “you’re my bitch, y’know that? been my bitch.” voice low and slow, almost cocky, like he wanted everyone to know -  like they didn’t already. the sound of damp, saturated clapping mixed with the crash of waves onto the shore.

“p-please, they’re gonna see,” you whimper, body jerking as he slams into you over and over. imagine the uproar if everyone saw you, little miss untouchable, taking your ex-boyfriend’s cock on the terrace outside topper’s party. grabbing a handful of hair, he yanks your head back, glare of the light fixed on your face. 

“they’re gonna see anyway, baby, don’t be shy. jus’ cum f’me,” your face screwed with his words, brows furrowing as you looked up at the camera with hopeless, empty eyes. just so fucked out. the curve of his dick poked and kissed that sweet spot deep inside you, bringing you closer and closer.

“you love me, huh?” he grunted, still forcing a deep arch in your back. “tell the camera you love me, princess.” you could feel yourself coming loose, guilt and lust boiling over in your tummy. you explode in a squealing moan, gripping on his cock and covering it with cream.

 “i love you rafe, fuck! - love you so so much!” crying through hiccups and flickering eyes, still trained on the flash. such a smart girl getting fucked dumb on camera. such a powerful person yet completely powerless in his hands.

“gonna let me nut in you?” his filming hand went flimsy as he quickened his pace, groaning and letting out short little bursts of air. “y’gonna take it all, be good for me like you used to?” he rasped, met with limp nods and a braindead mhmmm. that’s all it took for him to pound every inch into you, sending you deeper into your daze. fuckin’ dickmatized.

the video on his screen shook violently with each stroke, hot spurts of cum filling you up. “fuuuuckk,” he groaned, hips stuttering to a stop and loosening the grip on your hair, leaving you to catch your breath hung over the railing. he pointed the camera down, pulling himself out and spreading one cheek open with his hand to expose the stickiness dripping out of you. the flash finally goes off, and he saves it to his memories. bringing his fingers up to your leaky hole, he fucks his seed in deeper, eliciting a choked sob from your lips. pulling you upright and flipping you to face him, he squats down to pull your panties up from around your ankles, shimmying your hips into them and pulling your dress down. it was just like y'all used to.

the party was still in full swing as you both slipped back in, parting ways as you went to check in with sutton and reagan, completely disregarding the knotted mess of hair on your head and the streaked makeup down your face. was that fucking real? your legs were tight as you stagger and shuffle through groups of drunk teenagers all bouncing with the music, trying to regain your composure. as soon as reagan spots you from the couch, her jaw is on the floor, ushering you closer with her hand.

“y/n, no fucking way! you slut!” she shrieks with wide eyes and a light slap to your arm. “does sutton know?”

“girl, she set the shit up!” you try to explain, motioning with your hands. “i was like, if you insistttttt.” you lie, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, hitting her with a debby ryan radio rebel type smirk.

“you’re lying,” she goes on, picking her jaw up and taking a swig of her drink. “speak of the devil!” she exclaims, motioning behind you with her drink. a sharp smack landed on your ass, making you jump. sutton’s hand gripped yours, turning you around.

“did you fuck him?” she smiled, obviously drunk as shit and wayyy too loud.

“yeahh, what do you mean…” you roll your eyes, snapping your head to the side with a wide smile. it was evident how excited sutton was, prideful about it. lifting her solo cup in the air and grabbing to lift yours with the other, she let out a deafening woo!

“personally…” she went on, clutching her imaginary pearls, “i think that’s worth drinking to,” she proposed, side-eyeing and nudging you not so subtly. “come on bitch! shots for ken and barbie!”

to be honest, that was the last thing you remember.

the next morning, you woke up nuzzled in plaid grey sheets, your phone buzzing incessantly with notifications. the sound of the groundskeepers filtered through the windows. tannyhill.

fumbling with your phone, the words flashed across the screen.

figure8insider – ‘kildare’s power couple reunited? rafe cameron and y/n y/ln spotted together at party!’

oh.my.god.

[rieamena]

two plus two equals six

nerd!takuma ino & popular-ish!fem!reader

contains... both of you being absolute losers and incredibly embarrassing. that's about it.

word count: 9.4k (its been a while since i've written something this long...)

riea's comments: it's been a terrible couple of days but this idea really stayed in my head and i really had to act on it. idk if its one of my best works but i still like it! i will prove my spot as the mayor of takuma city!!!

technically, you weren't supposed to bother him. something about threatening a restraining order but a threat is really just empty words, amiright?

"hey…," you called out towards the man just two feet in front of you, as a result of you sneakily sliding into the seat across from him at the cafe table he sat at. your lips hung on that final syllable, really stretching out that "eyyy". "you're in my gen chem right?" the harmonic clink of your bangles rang through the space you occupied as you focused on making your voice sound as sweet and sultry as possible

the man in question, y'know, the ones your friends call p.f.b.b.. the p.f.b.b. thing was all credits to you of course. every time you talked about that day's writing or chemistry lecture, he was always mentioned as just that: pretty face black beanie, even though "pretty face black beanie" never looked your way once. it was several continuous moments of pure delusion, your pure delusion

p.f.b.b. glanced up at you and gave a small head nod before turning back to his laptop. it had a clear case with a bunch of stickers from bands you didn't recognize amongst other things you assumed he liked. "of course you are! the chemistry between us is just so genuine maybe its cause you're such a gentleman!"

a giggle escaped you as you continued talking. "see what i did there? the gen from genuine and the gen from gentleman both correspond to the gen from gen chem. which i know means general by the way, i'm not—"

"are you okay?"

p.f.b.b.'s eyes were now trained on your form, looking with an expression you couldn't discern as anything but pure concern. but of course, for you, that meant something completely different. under his gaze, you felt your cheeks heat up and you began to fidget. "p.f.b.b., stop looking at me like that! you're making me shy…"

it was silent for a few seconds before he spoke. "why do you keep calling me that?"

"i'm sorry?" you tilted your head a bit

"this is maybe the third or fourth time you've called me p.f.b.b.," he takes a sip from his coffee cup before continuing to type away on his laptop

i've spoken to you before??? is what you thought

and its also what you said.

"well yes," he started, gaze never leaving the blue light of his device, "like that time i answered professor's question and you said 'wow p.f.b.b. you're so smart!'. or that other time when i picked up your pencil case for you as i was leaving the lecture hall. or when—"

"okay i get it! i seriously don't remember that happening at all though… maybe i should start taking memory pills…" you muttered

"i know you're popular and stuff but we're in university now. the bullying thing is outdated and super uncool."

you had to take a couple of moments to fully grasp what he was saying. he thought you were bullying him. he thought you were a bully. and worst of all, he thought you were uncool. your body shivered at that thought and a pit formed in your stomach

"wait—!" you exclaimed, even though he wasn't going anywhere, "first off, i'm not bullying you! the p.f.b.b. thing is an inside joke—"

"am i in on the joke?"

you froze in place. he got you there. "well no—"

"exactly. move to the second thing please." he bluntly stated as he took another swig of coffee

"okay um, i'm not uncool! i'm actually really cool. and i wouldn't consider myself to be popular either!" you scrambled to find your words and for each syllable that you said, you felt that pit in your stomach growing bigger

"everyone in the school knows you. you're popular." he said as he reached into his messenger bag, pulling out glasses and putting them on

you usually would be entranced, but you had way bigger fish to fry. "i—i can't be popular! what if someone asks me for the best date spots, or amazing places to eat, or secret secluded areas for a bit of privacy!? i'm not from here! i wouldn't know! and—and then i'll look like a failure! i'll look like a loser! p.f.b.b. i can't!—wait."

it was only when you stopped talking that he looked up from his laptop, "what…?"

you'd never noticed it before but his voice was really nice, almost to the point where even you would shut up just to hear him talk about any topic that came to his mind 

"are you from here?"

"uh, yeah? i was born and raised in this area. why?" p.f.b.b raised his eyebrow at your sudden question to which you sighed in response. "oh nothing…," you cupped your hands on your jaw and looked out a nearby window. "i just wish a local, y'know, someone who's lived here all their life and was born and raised here, knows all the ins and outs of the city…, yeah just wish someone like that would show me around. i'm still new here…"

"well, i hope you find that person."

your eyes snapped open to see him all packed up, headphones on, and that suspiciously never-ending coffee cup in hand. "bye for now."

sitting in shock was all you could do. and sit you did. a calm five or so minutes had passed before you noticed something shiny in your peripheral. a card, but not just any card, a pokémon card, but not just any pokémon card, an ultra rare pokémon card at the back of a phone, but not just any phone, p.f.b.b.'s phone

you struck gold. pretty face black beanie will certainly be looking for this soon enough, and then you'll be there to swoop in and save the day. and it'll go something like this…

"ugh, where is that thing!" p.f.b.b. mutters frustratingly

"what thing?" you say sweetly, batting your eyelashes

"my phone. i must've misplaced it."

"oh perhaps…" you walk over to where he's standing, his phone in hand, "is this your phone?" you look up at him cutely

"yes! this is my phone! you found it! how can i ever repay you?"

"oh… you don't have to. i was just looking out for you…"

"i know! let's get married!"

"well if you insist…"

"of course! i love you!"

cue flowers and glitter and sparkles 

you giggled from how creative and vivid the scene was but unfortunately that sound broke you from your delusion and brought you right back to the real world

"i have p.f.b.b.'s phone." you said flatly, opening the door to your shared apartment. shouts of "what?!" and "huh??!" filled the space as you set down your things and laid on the couch. your best friends quickly flooded the living room, throwing questions at you

"ladies, ladies, please. one at a time."

nobara hit your thigh, "stop acting so high and mighty! how did you get his phone?"

mimiko massaged the area as she listened to you, "so long story short, we were talking at a cafe and then he left but forgot his phone so i just picked it up!"

"so… you stole his phone." nanako stated

"no. he left it and i picked it up."

"wait— don't you know his schedule?" nobara mentioned, resting her head on the plush couch, "shouldn't you have been able to give it back to him?" 

"well no… i'm not a stalker! i just have general knowledge of when and where his classes will be during the week."

"so why didn't you give it back to him, instead of stealing it?" mimiko teased, now kneading at your calves

"not you too, mimi!" you whined, "like i said, i didn't steal his phone! he left it on the cafe table and i picked it up!"

their voices mixed together to try and get the same two words through that thick skull of yours

"that's theft!"

the arguing of you and your roommates concerning your concerning ethics filled your ears, preventing you from hearing anything else. especially that banging on the front door

nanako shushed you all, bringing her voice to a barely audible whisper, "do you guys… hear that?"

thump. thump. thump.

"its probably one of your packages," nobara mentioned, earning an enlightened nod, "you seriously have a shopping addiction."

the shopaholic stood up and walked over to the door, still whispering, "you're one to talk!" you, nobara, and mimiko watched on as nanako's hand slipped over the door handle and turned it open. you swore that the door wasn't even open for a full five seconds before it was slammed shut. "it's a man."

the four of you exchanged confused looks. "yeah… maybe it's the delivery man…? check for a package," you said reassuringly. the door opens and it closes. nanako's voice right after. "no package."

"well… uh… what does he look like? maybe he's returning something one of us misplaced?" mimiko stammered, feeling the tension in the air rise at the unexpected stranger. the door opens again and it closes again. "brown hair. brown eyes. he's kinda emo looking…"

"spencer's emo or hot topic emo?"

"spencer's."

"wait!" you realized, practically falling over yourself as you ran to the door and pulled it open, "its–!"

"uh, hi..." you said, voice suddenly small compared to your usual playful demeanor. he was standing right outside your apartment door, looking more tired than annoyed, though the crease in his brow said he was definitely annoyed

"hey," he replied, with little emotion. his eyes briefly flicked to your roommates huddled behind you, who had all gone suspiciously silent. "you have my phone."

you unfortunately understood his intentions of finding where you live. it wasn't to ask you on a date, or to take you up on that offer you made earlier, it was to get his phone. you could've lied and said you didn't have it but…

"i do!" you held it up triumphantly like some kind of trophy, though the look on his face immediately made you regret it. "...but i swear, i wasn't trying to steal it or anything!"

his eyebrow raised slightly, and for a second, you thought he might actually laugh. instead, he sighed and reached out his hand. "can i have it back?"

"of course," you said quickly, but just as you extended it toward him, you froze. "wait! how do i know this is really your phone?"

"i'm sorry?" he blinked, looking somewhere between incredulous and exhausted. "you know it's my phone. you picked it up."

"yeah, but..." you stepped back slightly, holding it just out of reach. "what if it's not your phone, and you're just some random guy who also happens to wear a black beanie and drink coffee in moody cafes?"

your roommates groaned audibly from behind you, and you heard nobara mutter something like she's impossible under her breath

p.f.b.b., stared at you for a long moment before pinching the bridge of his nose. "okay. fine." he held out his hand again, palm up. "ask me something only i'd know if it's my phone."

you paused, scrambling for a question. "uh... what's on the back of your phone case?"

"a meowscarada pokémon card. holo, rare," he said without missing a beat. "which you clearly already saw, since you're holding it."

damn. he had you there.

"okay, okay," you relented, placing the phone in his outstretched hand. "i believe you. say no more."

he chuckled softly—barely audible, but enough to make your heart do a little somersault. "thanks. i appreciate you picking it up. i was worried i'd have to replace the card."

before you could stop yourself, you blurted, "you must really like pokémon, huh?"

"it's nostalgic," he admitted, remembering his childhood. "my brother and i used to play together when we were kids."

your lips curved into a grin. "that's cute. guess you're not as emo as you look."

his head tilted slightly at that, but you caught the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. "guess not. anyway..." he glanced past you at your still-curious roommates. "thanks again. i should go."

"wait!" you called after him as he started to turn. he stopped, looking at you expectantly. "how do you know where i live? do you live around here or something?"

"i… uh… live just over there," his thumb pointed behind him and you followed that direction to…

the unit right across from yours.

703.

"what?!" you gasped, "how come you never said anything? plus, i never see you in the mornings? how is this possible?!"

"one, we don't know each other well enough yet to know where the other lives," p.f.b.b. scrolled through his missed messages while he continued, "and two, i make sure to leave early and come back late every day just so i can avoid you."

grumbling, you wanted to slam the door in his face again but remembered that you had to choose peace. "that's great! i hope you're happy!" aaaand you slammed the door anyway

yet. we don't know each other well enough yet.

"oh p.f.b.b~!" nanako swooned

"oh [name]~!" nobara giggled

"insert kissing sounds and the actors are running their hands over the other's body." 

"stop that!!"

music was blasting and your spirits were up. you were practically skipping to your next class. that was… until you caught sight of a familiar head of blonde behind the granite fountain 

"uncle ken!" you called out, rounding the fountain's corner

"hello, [name]. what brings you here?" the well-composed man paused his previous conversation, giving his research assistant a silent apology while he focused on you

you nodded to p.f.b.b. before answering kento, "nothing much! just walking to my next class,"

"uncle…?" p.f.b.b questioned under his breath

unfortunately for him, his mentor picked up on it. "my apologies, i should introduce you two," kento turned towards the other man who seemed to regret his decision of speaking his thoughts, "ino, this is [name]. her parents and i are close so, naturally, she calls me her uncle. and—"

kento spun back to you, using his hand to motion towards "ino". you noticed a bracelet adorning his right hand. kento doesn't like wearing anything that's not a watch and it looks handmade and those colors… yellow, blue, black and brown??? how odd… "[name], this is takuma ino. he's been my research assistant for two years."

it was kind of weird to realize that p.f.b.b.'s name wasn't… well— p.f.b.b. like, he has a whole name: takuma ino. it hung on your lips and your tongue savored the taste. "hi," you spoke, giving ino a small wave. "hey," he responded, parroting your motions

"was that what you were working on at the cafe yesterday? some data stuff?"

"uh…, yeah. yeah i was."

kento silently watched this happen and even he was uncomfortable. there was a slight tension in the air. it was missable but apparent enough if you looked for it. he cleared his throat softly, bringing your attention back to him. "how are your parents?" he asked.

"they're good," you replied, smiling, though your voice carried a slight hesitation. "they always ask about you, by the way. mom wanted me to tell you that you're still her favorite."

kento allowed a rare chuckle, shaking his head. "i'm flattered, but i imagine that makes your dad roll his eyes."

"it does." you laughed

"speaking of family," you continued, "my brother is getting discharged from the military soon! and we're planning to have a little get together or something. nothing too crazy, but it'll be our first one together since he left and i know how much he loves you so…" your voice trailed off, hoping that the silence was strong enough to carry your unspoken words

"i understand. of course i'll be there."

kento smiled when he saw you beaming, on the verge of jumping up and down from happiness, and from the corner of your eye, you swear that you saw the corner of a lip curl up from that "ino"

"great—oh shoot—!" you checked the time on your phone and realized that… if you didn't go now, you'd be late. and that professor does not play. you showed up three minutes late to one of his lectures and he basically publicly humiliated you. "i gotta go but text mom and dad about it, okay uncle? bye now! bye ino!"

as you speed walked away, you felt ino's eyes lingering on you. a soft chuckle escaped your lips. takuma ino—you liked the way it sounded

the campus library was unusually quiet for a wednesday night, the usual hum of late-night chatter replaced by the occasional sound of a book being flipped or the muffled footsteps of a librarian making their rounds. you had no plans to be productive tonight; in fact, you'd come here specifically to procrastinate. or, more accurately, to bother someone

your target was easy to spot, tucked away in the far corner of the library like a hermit hiding from civilization. p.f.b.b was hunched over his notebook, one earbud in, one out, the faint sound of rock music drifting in the air around him

you made a beeline for him, sliding into the seat across the table before he could even process what was happening. "fancy seeing you here," you whispered conspiratorially, even though this was his obvious habitat

he didn't even look up, just sighed. "you're aware this is a library, right?"

"and you're aware you're in my study spot, right?" you countered, setting your bag down with an exaggerated thud

finally, his eyes flicked up to meet yours, unimpressed as always. "you… study?" before you could fight back, he continued, "anyways… pretty sure i've been coming here since the semester started, so if anything, this is my study spot."

"well that's too bad for you because i've been coming here since the first day i set foot on this campus," you shot back with a grin, leaning forward on your elbows. "but i'm willing to negotiate. how about we share?"

p.f.b.b. stared at you before shaking his head and returning to his notes. "as long as you don't talk too much."

"me? never."

silence settled between you for a few moments, a fragile truce held together by his focus and your determination not to annoy him too much. but that didn't stop you from sneaking glances at his notes

"why are you studying organic chem?" you asked after a while, squinting at the complicated diagrams on his page. "i thought we were suffering through general chem together."

"because i'm actually trying to graduate," he replied flatly

"well, me too," you said with a dramatic sigh, leaning back in your chair

he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, finally setting his pen down. "if you're not here to study, what are you here for?"

you grinned, pulling a pack of gummy bears out of your bag and sliding them across the table toward him. "to make sure you don't pass out from starvation, obviously."

he looked at the gummy bears, then at you, his expression unreadable. after a beat, he shook his head, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "you're weird, you know that?"

"compliments will get you everywhere," you said, plucking a gummy bear from the pack and popping it into your mouth

for the rest of the night, you sat across from him, not saying much but somehow managing to get under his skin with every little comment or movement. oddly enough, seeing him work made you itch to do some studying of your own. and when he finally packed up to leave, muttering something about having an early class, he didn't tell you to leave him alone or call you annoying

instead, he paused just before he walked away, turning back to you with a bemused look

"thanks for the gummy bears."

"anytime— wait! aren't we going the same way…? wait for me!" you scrambled to pack up your pencils and books, stuffing them in your bag, not realizing that p.f.b.b—i mean— ino, was kinda, sorta, maybe, if you had asked him he'd say "no", but from what i saw, he was… waiting for you…

"then move faster, idiot."

you walked through the halls, passing numerous rooms, a small skip in your step. your body froze as you recalled a certain room's number, kento's research lab. walking back to where it was and peeping through the windowed door, you saw that it was… organized chaos. papers and binders were stacked, whiteboards covered in dense equations, and the faint scent of coffee could be smelled from outside the door. looking closer, you could see someone hunched over a desk, scribbling something on a notepad. ino.

you twisted the handle of the door, opening it with a push, "tough work?"

ino looked up from his desk, blinking at you in mild surprise. his hair was slightly disheveled and rid of that beanie, and there was a smudge of something that looked suspiciously like marker on his cheek

"i'm fine," he said, though the dark circles under his eyes told a different story. "really. i've got it handled."

you raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. "you're drowning in… whatever this is. don't worry about it, i'll just provide extra assistance."

he groaned, leaning back in his chair. "seriously, you don't have to. it's not a lot of work."

the phrase held so much irony considering there were sheets upon sheets of paper, and towers of that. you guessed he realized his small lie once he glanced around the room

ino sighed but didn't argue further, instead gesturing to the mountain of work in front of him. "fine. if you're so eager to help, you can start with that pile over there."

you pulled up a chair beside him, scanning the papers and the spreadsheet open on his laptop. "okay, let's see what we're working with."

as you both settled into the task, the room grew quieter, save for the sound of typing or the rustle of papers

"you're surprisingly good at this," ino said after a while, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye

"surprisingly?"

he winced. "i didn't mean it like that. just… i didn't expect you to pick it up so quickly."

"thanks for the backhanded compliment," you said dryly, but there was a hint of a smile on your lips

he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "sorry. i meant it as a real compliment. you're making this way easier."

"you're welcome," you said, turning back to the spreadsheet. "but seriously, how have you two been doing this without losing your minds?"

"coffee," he said immediately

you snorted. "yeah, i can tell. your bloodstream is probably ninety percent caffeine at this point."

he smirked, but the teasing in his expression softened into something more genuine. "it's been… a lot. nanami keeps me grounded, though. he's really good at this kind of thing."

"yeah, he is," you said, pausing for a moment before adding, "but so are you."

ino blinked, caught off guard. "me?"

"yes, you," you said, glancing at him. "you're smart, ino. you don't give yourself enough credit."

he looked at you for a moment, his usual demeanor towards you faltering. "thanks," he said softly

the moment lingered longer than either of you expected, the air between you feeling just a bit heavier

the hours passed in a steady rhythm of work and banter sprinkled in, and by the time the sun began to set, the two of you had cleared more than half of the tasks kento had left behind

"see?" you said as you leaned back in your chair. "teamwork makes the dream work."

ino laughed, shaking his head. "alright, fine. you win. maybe having you here wasn't the worst thing."

"don't get too used to it," you teased, grabbing your bag. "next time, i might just let you suffer alone."

he playfully shot you a look while stretching in his chair, "hey, how about i show you around."

"what? are—are you joking?"

 he got up and packed his bag with never before seen speed, "yeah. i am."

"you—!"

"follow me."

ino led the way out of the building, his energy contagious despite the long day you both had. the evening air was cool and refreshing, the city humming quietly as the golden glow of the setting sun bathed everything in a warm light

"i know this great spot," he said with a grin as he walked slightly ahead, hands casually stuffed in his jacket pockets. "you've been here for a while, but have you actually seen the good stuff?"

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "define 'good stuff.'"

he smirked over his shoulder. "you'll see."

as you followed ino down the bustling streets, the city seemed to transform as it got darker. neon lights flickered to life, illuminating the shop windows and casting colorful reflections on the wet pavement from an earlier drizzle. the aroma of street food mingled with the faint scent of rain, creating a vivid tapestry of sights and smells

"so," you began, dodging a biker weaving through the crowd, "what's the first stop on this magical mystery tour of yours? please tell me it's food. i'm starving."

ino grinned, gesturing dramatically toward a food cart that had a line of eager customers. "you, my friend, are about to experience the best takoyaki this city has to offer."

"oh, come on," you teased, falling in step beside him. "isn't that what everyone says about their favorite food cart?"

"don't disrespect taro-san like that," ino shot back, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. "this man has been perfecting his craft since before i could hold chopsticks."

moments later, you stood together, balancing plates of piping hot takoyaki drizzled with sauce and topped with dancing bonito flakes. ino took a bite, his expression almost reverent. "see? what did i tell you? food of the gods."

you took a bite, and your eyes widened. the crisp shell gave way with a soft crunch, revealing the molten, creamy filling inside. it was so warm it nearly melted on your tongue, a perfect blend of savory depth and a subtle sweetness that made your mouth water instantly. the octopus at the center was tender, just the right amount of chewy, and so fresh it almost seemed to bring a whisper of the ocean with it. the sauce on top was like a burst of fireworks—sweet and tangy, with a smoky undertone that paired flawlessly with the creamy mayo drizzled alongside it

you had to pause for a second after swallowing, just to appreciate it. the warmth lingered in your mouth, and you already knew one bite wouldn't be enough. within seconds the entire thing was gone, but you couldn't give ino the satisfaction of being right

"it was alright i guess." you shrugged, "i suppose you're not as full of it as i thought."

"right…," ino said with a suspicious grin, nudging you lightly with his elbow. "stick with me and i'll make you a connoisseur."

he didn't waste any time bringing you to the next point of interest, grabbing your hand with his and dragging you to a small, secluded alley lined with string lights and small artisan shops. it was beautiful, to say the least

"it's… quieter here."

"yeah," ino agreed, his voice softer now. "this is one of my favorite spots. it's like the city pauses for a second."

you glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes softened as he looked around. "you come here often?"

"used to, back when i needed to think. or when i was avoiding studying," he admitted with a sheepish grin

"you? avoid studying? how unlikely…" you sneakily caught a glance at your still interlocked hands, noticing a small, oddly colored, handmade bracelet around ino's wrist. but it seems you were staring at it for far too long

"oh! sorry!" he stuttered, pulling his hand from yours, and bringing it to his chest. you immediately felt the slight chill of the night but still flashed a bittersweet smile that conveyed something of a don't worry about it. out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the shops practically twinkling. getting a closer look, your wallet itched once you saw the array of jewelry and hair accessories. it was sorted by color and then by type, gold earrings on the far left and silver necklaces on the far right. but you were inexplicably drawn to one item: a hair clip with four small, white seashells on it

"that one?"

ino's voice next to you made you jump slightly. giving him a small hit on his shoulder, you followed his finger to the item you were just admiring. "yeah, that one. it's really pretty, isn't it?" ino hummed in response, surprised to see you turn away from it and walk down the alley instead

"but…, maybe i'll get it another time."

after a minute or so of window shopping the rest of the stores, ino caught up to you. "next up is the park. you can't say you've really seen the city until you've walked through it at night."

once you got closer, ino pointed at the beautifully lit area in the distance. lanterns illuminated the paths, and the sound of a bubbling fountain echoed softly. children chased each other, their laughter carrying through the crisp air, while couples strolled hand in hand. ino brought you to a bench overlooking a pond, the moonlight reflecting off its surface like a scene from a painting

"alright, i'll give it to you," you said, leaning back and stretching, stomach craving that takoyaki from earlier. "you weren't kidding. this is incredible."

"see?" ino said with a smirk, leaning back beside you. "i'm full of surprises. and speaking of that… here." ino reached into his left pocket, pulling a small item out, and pushing it into your hands

staring down at it, you realized it was the seashell hair pin you were eyeing from earlier. overrun with happiness, you flung your arms around ino, showering him in thank you's. pulling away and on the edge of bouncing in your seat, you slipped it into your hair, looking at ino for validation

"how does it look?"

oh. oh.

she's… beautiful. though, i've always known that…

thanking the cashier and gathering your bags, you made a beeline for the exit. you see, you were trying to make it home as quickly as possible because it was friday and you and your roommates always watched a specific show on friday nights. you guys ordered in and it was just amazing, until nanako said that she was craving your cooking, everyone agreed, and then you somehow lost the four way rock, paper, scissors on who goes to the store to get the ingredients. so here you were, standing under the awning of the nearby grocery store, bags in hand, watching the wall of rain as it drenched the street. the rain that wasn't in the forecast and the kind of downpour that left everyone scrambling for cover

great. just great.

your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out to see a text from kento

kento: the rain was unexpected. are you alright?

you sighed and quickly typed back

you: yeah, just stuck waiting for it to stop. don't worry, i'll figure it out

after a couple minutes of you standing and contemplating your next move, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb, and the passenger window rolled down, revealing p.f.b.b.'s grin that even though you've seen about three times, you'd never get used to

"need a ride?" he called out, leaning casually over the center console

you blinked at him, caught off guard. "what are you doing here?"

"i was with nanami when he mentioned you," he said, shrugging. "said you were stranded. figured i'd play the hero."

you tried to cross your arms but the weight of the bags were kind of weighing them down, "play the hero driving kento's car? do you even have your license?"

"hey—," he explained, raising his voice just a bit, "it may be nanami's car but he said i could take it! and yes, i do have my license!"

you rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "alright, fine. but what about these?" you gestured to your grocery bags

"pop the trunk," he said, pressing a button on the dash. the trunk lid opened smoothly. "problem solved."

with a sigh, you stepped into the rain long enough to stow your bags before climbing into the passenger seat, shaking droplets off your jacket as you settled in. the interior was warm, the faint scent of leather and air freshener filling the space

"comfy?" he teased as you buckled up

"more than i'd be waiting in that rain," you shot back

he laughed, the sound light and easy, as he pulled back onto the road. the rain drummed steadily against the car, but inside, it was quiet, almost peaceful

"alright, then…, let's go home."

home, huh?

the blue light of your laptop pierced your eyes as you typed the final words of your assignment, and submitted it, chemistry work abandoned at the edge of your desk. as you were looking at it ashamedly, a ping came through your phone

xxx-xxx-xxxx: have you done the writing assignment yet?

you: wrong number

xxx-xxx-xxxx: no. it's p.f.b.b.

you: oh! how did you get my number?

p.f.b.b.: don't worry about that. did you do the assignment?

you: yeah i just finished. why?

p.f.b.b.: can you come over? i need some help with it. in exchange, i'll help you with your chem work that i know you didn't start

you: well since you're offering…

"do you still even like him?" nobara questioned, "before you'd be jumping up for joy."

"yeah, i do," you put your laptop and chemistry work and textbook in your tote, grabbing some snacks from the pantry too, "i'm just not as upfront about it anymore. maybe it's cause we're friends now, but i don't know!"

you slung your tote bag over your shoulder, opening the door to your apartment and saying a quick "i'll be back" to your girls. walking just across the hall and knocking on his door, you barely had time to exhale before it swung open to reveal ino in a hoodie and sweats, his hair slightly tousled like he'd just slipped off that beanie

"right on time," he said with a grin, stepping aside to let you in

"you texted me like two minutes ago—"

"make yourself at home," he interrupted, already moving to clear space for you

his apartment mirrored yours in layout but had its own chaotic charm—textbooks and notes spread across the coffee table, an empty coffee mug sitting precariously on the edge

you dropped your bag and slid onto the couch, pulling out your laptop. "let's see what you've got so far."

ino groaned, flopping down beside you with an exaggerated sigh. "barely anything. writing isn't my thing."

you rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. "that's what i'm here for."

the second session, where you both stumbled through the assignment, bickering over comma placement and syntax while munching on the snacks you brought. you teased him for his messy handwriting, and he fired back with jokes about your overuse of sticky notes

the fourth session, where ino finally made good on his promise to help you with chemistry. he sat cross-legged on the floor, explaining concepts in a way that actually made sense while you leaned over his shoulder to read his notes

the sixth session, where the stress of exams had both of you yawning into your notebooks. he brewed coffee—terrible coffee—but the gesture made you smile. you fell asleep on his couch that night, waking up to a blanket draped over you

or that one time he showed up at your door, unannounced, holding a coffee cup in one hand and a thick textbook in the other for an "emergency study session,"

today was no different. you walked over to ino's apartment that he graciously started leaving unlocked around this time—just for you. walking in and greeting him briefly, you sat on his couch, your knees brushing against his as you both hovered over the same textbook as you reviewed chemical equations. the proximity made it hard to focus; you were acutely aware of the way his shoulder brushed yours every time he shifted, and you wondered if he was too 

"see?" you said, pointing to a diagram. "like what does that even mean? what does this show me?"

"okay so, this shows esterification.  ethanoic acid and ethanol produces ethyl ethanoate and water in the presence of an acid catalyst like sulfuric acid. the reaction begins with the acid protonation of the carbonyl oxygen of the carboxylic acid, making the carbon more electrophilic." he replied, the words falling off his tongue with ease

you glanced up at him, finding his eyes already on you. though the usual playful spark was there, his words went in one ear and out the other, and you felt embarrassed that you didn't understand a word except acid, produces, reaction, and catalyst

neither of you spoke for a long moment. the tension was palpable, the world outside his apartment fading away until it was just the two of you in this bubble of uncertainty and longing

"ino, repeat that for—" you started, but your words were cut off as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so tentative it felt like a question

your breath caught, your mind racing even as your heart leapt. what is happening right now? it was almost an immediate reaction that you kissed him back, the touch lingering just long enough to send your thoughts spiraling before you pulled away

"i—" he started, his expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. "i didn't mean to—"

you shook your head, rising from the couch as you scrambled to gather your things. "i should go."

"wait," he said, standing as if to follow, but you held up a hand to stop him

"i'll… see you later," you murmured, avoiding his gaze as you slipped out the door

the walk across the hall to your apartment felt endless, your heart pounding in your chest. once inside, you leaned against the door, your fingers brushing your lips as you replayed the moment over and over

what the fuck?

the party was in full swing, a cheerful celebration of your brother's long-awaited return. laughter and chatter filled the room, plates of food were passed around, and glasses clinked in endless toasts. you were busy setting a tray of drinks on the counter when you spotted takuma ino standing near the door, looking a little out of place but still managing to charm a small group of your family members and friends with his easygoing smile

your steps faltered, your chest tightening. he hadn't mentioned he'd be here. not that you blamed him—why would he? last night's kiss wasn't a topic either of you seemed ready to breach today. but still, the sight of him caught you completely off guard

turning on your heel, you found kento by the kitchen, nursing a glass of wine. marching up to him, you jabbed a finger in his direction

"why is he here?" you hissed, keeping your voice low

kento raised an eyebrow at you, calm as ever. "he's here because i invited him. your brother wanted to know more about my project. what better way to tell him about it than to bring my research assistant? why?"

you rubbed your temple, biting back a groan. "look, i'm not saying that he can't be here, but… you could've given me a heads-up."

kento's gaze turned suspicious, and his lips twitched into a slight frown. "why would you need a heads-up? haven't i introduced you two?"

you felt heat rising to your cheeks, the embarrassment seeping into your voice as you fumbled for an explanation. "well, yeah, formally, but he and i—we—we're—he and i—NO!"

kento stared at you, unblinking, while you buried your face in your hands, muttering curses under your breath. his frown deepened, and you could practically feel his uncle intuition kicking in

"wait," he said slowly, his tone sharpening. "what do you mean, 'he and i'?"

"nothing!" you snapped, dropping your hands, "i meant nothing. just—just forget i said anything."

kento's expression didn't waver. he studied you for a moment longer before sighing and shaking his head. "whatever you're freaking out about will pass. ino's a good guy."

"yeah, i know," you muttered under your breath, glancing back toward ino, who was now engaged in a conversation with your brother. his laugh echoed across the room, and you couldn't help the flutter of nervous energy it sent through you

as the party continued in full swing, you moved around the room, trying to keep busy—refilling snacks, grabbing empty plates, and avoiding ino's gaze whenever your paths seemed to almost cross

you weren't sure how long you could keep this up. every time his laughter reached your ears or you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, your heart seemed to skip a beat. the kiss from last night lingered in the back of your mind, a constant, unspoken weight

you had just finished setting down a fresh tray of drinks when you heard a voice behind you

"hey."

you froze, recognizing it immediately. slowly turning around, you found ino standing there, his hands holding a can of soda; they were shaking. his usual smile was softer now, almost nervous

"can we talk?" he asked, his voice low enough that no one else could hear over the party noise

your heart sank and leaped at the same time, "uh, sure. now?"

he nodded. "yeah. just for a minute. outside?"

you hesitated, glancing around the room. kento was chatting with your brother near the couch, and the rest of the guests were engrossed in their own conversations. no one would miss you for a few minutes

"okay," you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended

ino led the way to the front door, holding it open for you before stepping out into the cool night air. the silence stretched as you stood there, arms crossed against the slight chill. ino rubbed the back of his neck, clearly searching for the right words

"so," he started, his tone careful, "i uh… figured it was probably a bad idea to bring this up inside. with, you know, everyone around."

you nodded, unsure of where he was going with this. "probably."

he let out a small breath, finally meeting your eyes. "about last night…"

your stomach flipped. of course, he'd bring it up. you'd been bracing for this moment all day, but now that it was here, you didn't know what to say

"look," he continued, "i don't want to make things weird between us. especially not with nanami, or your family, or—"

"it's not weird," you interrupted, surprising even yourself. "at least, it doesn't have to be."

his brows lifted slightly, a flicker of hope in his expression. "really? because i was worried i'd screwed things up."

"you didn't," you said quickly. "it's just… unexpected."

ino nodded, stepping closer. his voice softened, almost hesitant. "i don't regret it, you know. the kiss. but if you're not okay with it, i'll back off. no questions asked."

the sincerity in his tone made your chest ache. you looked up at him, taking in the way his usually confident demeanor seemed so tentative now

"i didn't say i wasn't okay with it," you murmured, barely louder than a whisper. "believe it or not, but i've been flirting with you for a while now."

ino blinked at you, his brows knitting together in confusion. "wait… what?"

you tilted your head, giving him a look that said seriously? "flirting, ino. you know, dropping hints, teasing, trying to get you to notice me?"

he stared at you, his lips parting slightly as if the realization was slowly dawning on him. "you're kidding."

you let out a soft laugh, part amused and part exasperated. "no, i'm not kidding. you're telling me you didn't pick up on any of it? not even when i started making excuses to see you more?"

ino's hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it in that familiar sheepish way. "i thought you were just being nice! like, nanami-level nice."

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "nanami-level nice? ino, i bought you coffee with your weirdly specific order three times in one week. kento would never do that."

he opened his mouth, then closed it, a look of genuine shock crossing his face. "wait… that was flirting?"

"yes," you said with a small laugh. "and the time i told you your new haircut made you look good? or when i made sure there was always a snack for you at kento's? flirting, ino."

ino's jaw dropped slightly, his hands falling to his sides as he processed your words. "oh, my god. i'm the dumbest guy alive."

"well… maybe," you said, trying not to laugh at his adorably stunned expression

"i am," he insisted, his voice rising slightly in disbelief. "you've been into me this whole time, and i've been walking around like an idiot, completely missing it."

you couldn't help but laugh now, the sound easing the tension between you. "well, now you know."

he took off his beanie and ran a hand through his hair, still looking flustered but with a hint of something softer in his eyes. "yeah. now i know."

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet night stretching around you. then, almost shyly, ino glanced at you again. "so… does this mean i can kiss you again? like, now that i'm finally catching up and all."

you smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. "i think that depends. are you going to keep being oblivious, or are you going to start paying attention?"

he grinned, his usual confidence flickering back. "oh, i'm paying attention now. promise."

before you could respond, he stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours as his gaze met yours. slowly, he leaned in, his lips expecting to meet yours in a kiss that was as sweet as it was certain, but… instead they met your pointer finger

"do you hear that? i think someones calling for me." you walked back into the house, leaving ino to wallow in his self-inflicted embarrassment for a while

the convenience store's fluorescent lights buzzed softly above the aisles, casting a harsh glow on shelves stocked with instant noodles, snacks, and cheap energy drinks. you and ino—or, as he let you call him in private, takuma—had wandered in after a long evening of hanging out at his apartment, the kind of night where laughter and teasing filled the silence

takuma leaned against the refrigerator door, his black beanie pushed back enough to reveal a few strands of his messy hair. he squinted at the drink selection like it held the answers to life's greatest mysteries

"you've been staring at that for a full minute," you teased, sliding up beside him. "it's not that deep. just grab the green tea like you always do."

he smirked without looking at you. "and miss out on your expert critique of my choices? never."

you reached past him to grab a bottle of sparkling water, your shoulder brushing his arm. it wasn't much, just a small touch, but it was enough to make the air between you shift. for a second, it felt like the buzzing of the fluorescent lights got louder, the hum filling the space where words should be

he cleared his throat, stepping back just slightly. "you always drink that fizzy stuff. isn't it just soda pretending to be fancy?"

"it's called having taste," you corrected, placing it in your basket

"right. taste," he said, rolling his eyes but smiling anyway

as the two of you wandered through the aisles, the quiet of the late hour settled over you, broken only by the occasional sound of a cashier scanning items. you found yourself in front of the snack section, takuma trailing behind you with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets

"you want anything?" you asked, holding up a bag of chips

"nah, i'm good," he said, but his eyes lingered on the pack of pocky in your hand

you smirked, tossing it into your basket. "liar. i'll grab it for you. consider it a thank you for giving back that hoodie you stole last week."

"i didn't steal it," he argued, though his tone was more defensive than adamant

"oh, so it just walked out of my closet on its own? how did you even get in?"

he scratched the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "mimiko let me in… and… it's comfortable."

you grinned, but decided to let it go. instead, you nudged him lightly with your elbow as you headed toward the counter. "next time, just ask. i might even let you keep it."

he followed you in silence, but when you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, you caught the faintest hint of pink on his ears

after paying for your haul, you stepped outside into the crisp night air. the streets were quiet, the kind of stillness that felt rare in the city. takuma walked beside you, the pocky in his hand already opened

"you're eating that now?" you asked, digging through the bag for that sparkling water of yours

"why not?" he said around the stick in his mouth, offering you the box

you took one, the chocolate coating melting slightly against your lips. for a moment, the two of you just walked in comfortable silence, the tension from earlier still lingering but softer now, like a thread pulling you closer without snapping

"thanks," he said suddenly, his voice quiet

"for what?" you asked, glancing at him

he shrugged, not meeting your eyes. "i don't know."

"he knew. he definitely knew," you insisted, gesturing wildly as you paced the living room

mimiko tilted her head thoughtfully. "but if he knew, why wouldn't he just say something?"

nanako smirked. "maybe he's waiting for you to say something first. or maybe he's just an idiot who can't read the room."

nobara clicked her tongue. "i mean, the guy's not exactly subtle. pretending he needs help with writing assignments? clearing his schedule to go grocery shopping with you so that you never have to carry the bags in by yourself? and don't even get me started on how he looks at you when you're not paying attention."

you threw up your hands, exasperated. "what am i supposed to do, just march up to him and demand he explain himself?"

"yes," they chorused

"ugh!" you groaned, grabbing your bag and stomping toward your room. "i don't wanna do this anymore!"

their laughter followed you down the hall, but your irritation evaporated the moment you stepped inside. on your desk, there was a letter

your name was scrawled across the front in unmistakable handwriting. your breath caught as you picked it up, hands trembling slightly as you unfolded the paper. the words inside were written with care, each line pulling at your heart:

to you, the one who's always on my mind,

i've started and restarted this letter more times than i can count, and even now, i'm not sure if i've found the right words. how do you tell someone that they've completely changed the way you see the world? that their laugh is the best sound you've ever heard, or that their smile makes even the worst days feel a little brighter?

i've never been good at this—putting my feelings into words—but for you, i'll try. because you deserve to know how incredible you are, even if i can't say it as smoothly as i'd like.

you have this way of making everything feel easier, lighter, just by being yourself. and it's not just the big things, like how you help me with work or how you always know exactly what to say when i'm frustrated. it's the little things too. like how you hum under your breath when you're focused, how you tilt your head when you're confused, how you always manage to start an argument over the stupidest of topics, how you light up when you talk about something you love. it's those little things that make me fall harder for you every day.

i don't know when it started—maybe it was the late nights we spent working together, or maybe it was how you didn't let me quit when things felt impossible. but now i don't think i want to stop. you make me want to be better, just so i can be someone worthy of being by your side. and maybe i'm not saying this the right way, but i hope you understand what i mean.

i don't know what you'll do with this letter, and maybe i'm an idiot for writing it (and asking mimiko to put it on your desk for me), but if nothing else, i just needed you to know.

yours (if you want me to be),

p.f.b.b.

your chest tightened, emotions flooding through you as you reread the letter. before you could realize it, you were across the hall, in front of takuma's door

you knocked on it and pushed it open without waiting for a response. "takuma—"

he was standing in the kitchen, and your eyes immediately caught the bouquet of your favorite flowers on the counter. the vibrant blooms were arranged with care, their familiar scent wafting through the room

takuma turned, his face a mix of surprise and panic. "oh. uh… hey."

"you're unbelievable," you said, holding up the letter, trying to fight back your smile

his ears turned red as he scratched the back of his neck. "so, you found that."

"takuma, what is this?" you gestured to the flowers and the letter, your voice a mix of exasperation and something softer

he hesitated, looking uncharacteristically shy. "i… i wanted to tell you how i feel, but every time i try, i just… i mess it up. so, i thought maybe this would be easier."

you stared at him, your heart pounding. "and the flowers?"

"i thought they'd make you smile," he said simply, stepping closer. "do they?"

you felt your lips twitch despite yourself. "they do."

his shoulders relaxed slightly, but the tension between you only seemed to grow. his voice dropped, softer now. "i meant every word in that letter. i did."

your breath hitched, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted, "why didn't you tell me sooner? i've been…" you trailed off, shaking your head

"been what?" he pressed, his eyes searching yours.

"waiting," you admitted. "i've been waiting for you to say something since the party. anything."

takuma stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours. "i'm saying it now," he murmured. "i care about you. a lot. more than i probably should. and if i'm being honest, you terrify me a little because of how much i feel when i'm around you."

your heart twisted at his words, and before your mind could find a reason to say no, you leaned up, capturing his lips in a kiss. it was hesitant at first, soft and searching, but when his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, the world seemed to melt away

when you pulled back, both of you were breathless, his forehead resting against yours

"i think we should date," he said, a small smile playing on his lips

you laughed softly, your nerves giving way to warmth. "i think we should too."

his grin widened, but before the moment could get too serious, he quipped, "does this mean i get to steal your clothes now?"

you smacked his arm playfully. "i'm pretty sure it's supposed to be the other way around."

"hey…, what does p.f.b.b. stand for?"

"mmm," you hummed, looking at your… boyfriend. "don't worry about it."

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@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @babysoo-meu

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@baekhyunsbestie @vorfreudevortex @leuriss @xaithings @corvid007

[oneforthemunny]

How would Mafia Eddie react if he's at a dinner party with reader. He sees the reader talking to a girl at the bar. He sees them laughing and having a good time. The girl turns around, and Eddie sees that she's a girl he used to mess around with. Reader brings the girl over to the table where Eddie is at, to introduce her to him.... i need to know lol

mafia!eddie my love!!!!!!! this is so fun. as we all know, mafia!eddie's reader (aka me) is very jealous lol. so this is a funsie little blurb haha. contains language and mafia type themes. really just silly fun fluff, a little angst if you squint.

"I'm going to grab another drink." You leaned over, pressing a kiss to Eddie's cheek, hollowed around the cigar he was smoking.

"I'll get it for you, baby-"

"-I got it, Ed." You smiled, hand wrapped around the empty martini glass. "You're talking. I'll be right back." Your hand squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, stepping away from the large table towards the bar.

Rick's annual poker party, a rewarding get together for all his 'friends', and an excuse to gamble and drink themselves silly. It was also an excuse to get dressed up, hang on Eddie's arm while he paraded you around in the newest Versace dress, straight off the runway.

"Can I have another martini? Dirty, please." You slid your empty glass over to the bartender with a smile.

"I like your dress." A voice from beside you pulled your attention. You were pleasantly surprised to see another girl, one your age.

"Thank you." You smiled back, hands smoothing down the black fabric. "I like your shoes. Those are so cute."

"Thanks," The girl giggled. "My boyfriend bought them for me. An apology gift for missing my birthday last week. He was with some of the guys in Miami."

You sucked in a breath, grimacing. "Yikes. I've been there. One of the biggest fights me and my boyfriend got into was because he kept missing dates, and not calling."

"Yes!" The girl gaped, her manicured hand slapping the bar lightly. "They never call."

"Never."

"And then they act like you're not supposed to be upset?"

"Oh my god, yes." You groaned in agreement. "And then they show up and wonder why you're pissed. Like they didn't just stand you up."

The girl beside you laughed in agreement. "Yeah, well, at least that's when the good part comes." She looked at you over her wine glass, a brow lifted. "That's when the gifts come."

You gave a nervous laugh, shifting uncomfortably. You knew there were girls like her, who used the men in Eddie's line of work for the benefits- for the money.

"I'm Goldie, by the way." Her bangles rattled when she stuck her hand out for you to take, you repeating your own name with a gentle shake of her hand.

"Are you new here? Or new to this?" Goldie asked, nodding towards the blackjack table of men behind you.

"Sorta. More new to getting to come to these things." You giggled softly. "My boyfriend doesn't always come. I usually have to persuade him."

"I wish." Goldie snorted lightly. "My boyfriend would come to every single event they had if I let him." She pursed her lips, setting down her glass.

"And see that's the other thing- they can always come to these things, but not dinner with my parents?"

"Oh, yeah," You laughed lightly. "That's like pulling teeth. He acts like I'm holding him at gunpoint of something when I ask him to come home with me for the holidays."

Eddie's eyes wandered back over to you from his place at the table, a fluttering glance that turned into a quick headed turn. His heart dropped, trying to keep his expression neutral as he looked at the girl beside you- Goldie.

Goldie liked to hang around guys like Eddie. Always at the right places at the right times, and always ready to get a hotel room with them. And Eddie had done that with her, a time or two actually, before he met you.

He tried to play it cool, swallow back his beating heart when you started towards him, martini in hand, a smile on your face, and Goldie trailing behind you.

"Ed," You called, so sweetly, it made him feel a little sick. Maybe she hadn't told you?

"Ed, I wanted you to meet Goldie. I met her at the bar." You giggled, clearly a little tipsy, getting silly the way you always did when you drank.

"Goldie, this is my boyfriend. This is-"

"-Eddie." Goldie clicked her tongue playfully, her tone raising in octave. "It's so good to see you again."

You faltered, looking from her back to Eddie, face falling in confusion. How did she know him? Maybe through her boyfriend? If so, then why does Eddie's face look like that?

"You two know each other?" You lifted a brow.

"Yes-"

"Not really-"

Eddie avoided her stare, refusing to look at her, his face stoic and cold. Goldie's had shifted into something that made your chest tighten with a familiar territorial rage. Her lashes batting towards him, hip jutted, and chest dipped low to show her slipping cleavage.

"Hm," You hummed, setting your drink down, your lips pursed. "Well, it was good talking to you." You smiled politely, purposefully taking a seat in Eddie's lap, your arms wrapped around his neck.

You didn't miss the way her face fell. "Hopefully I see you here next time." You flashed a dazzling smile, your hand sliding up Eddie's neck sweetly, pushing his curls back. "It's always good to have another girl friend here."

Goldie stammered out a response, excusing herself with her head hung.

Eddie was rigid under you, watching you carefully, studying your body language when you turned back to him. "Goldie, hm?" You lifted a brow. He knew better than to answer, still unsure.

"So how many girls have you fucked here?" You scoffed, eyes narrowing at him.

"I don't remember. I just know none of them matter." Eddie schmoozed, hoping your tipsy state would allow him a little grace until you were back home. "Because none of them were as good as you."

His lips pressed to your cheek, strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you in. You hummed in response, unamused, but still letting him kiss you.

"I'm sure." You deadpanned, eyes rolling to meet his.

"'M serious, sweetheart." Eddie whispered, lips vibrating against your cheek. Normally, he'd never show such affection in public, but he'd give in tonight, he knew you needed it and he needed to. "You're too good. Made me forget all of them. None of them compare to you. You know that. You're better in every single way."

You melted at his words, giggling and pressing your face into his neck, playfully nipping the skin there just to feel him go rigid under your touch. You'd blame it on the alcohol, for your lack of reaction- for now, anyways. Tomorrow morning, Eddie was greeted with a dull hangover headache, and a furious you, standing over him, hand on hip, demanding to know more.

[theballadofharkness]

Whisky and Wine: Part 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Claire Debella x fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected when you came home from your publishers to your older partner Claire’s home was an invitation to her friend’s, Billionaire Miles Bron, private luxury yacht for the weekend. The problem? Claire had been very careful to keep her fellow disrupters away from you, terrified they would ruin yet another aspect of her life. But nobody says no to Miles, so you find yourself surrounded by Claire’s ‘inner circle’.

Word Count: 10.4K

Warnings: Non explicit smut, and sexual harassment (non explicit: it is a hand on the thigh but it does warrant a warning I think). So as always minors DNI xo

A/N: apologises this took so long! Work and life has been hectic but I should be back to updating more regularly and for those who enjoy my Agatha works, I have quite a few things to publish soon xo 💜🪻

The morning air is already thick with heat, the Mediterranean sun beating down mercilessly on the yacht's upper deck. The brunch plates have been cleared, fresh drinks poured, and now the group is settling, finding their places in the slow, indulgent rhythm of the day.

Duke, unsurprisingly, has stripped down to his swim trunks and is doing laps in the pool, his massive frame cutting through the water with precise, practiced strokes. Every time he reaches the edge, he stops for just a second to glance over at the side of the deck where his gun sits, gleaming in the sun, like he can’t stand the idea of being too far away from it. Like it’s an extension of himself, something he needs within reach to feel whole.

Peg is hunched over her laptop, her bucket hat pulled low, shielding her face from the sun as she furiously types away, looking like a stark contrast to the scene around her. Her legs are pulled up onto the sunbed, bare knees pressed together, her fingers flying across the keyboard with stressed efficiency.

Birdie, on the other hand, is a fucking spectacle.

Living up to her namesake, she is absolutely peacocking, standing near a sun lounger, posing like she’s waiting for someone to paint her rather than just exist in the space. She’s draped in a swimsuit so needlessly complicated that it looks more like an avant-garde fashion piece than something meant for swimming. Her hair is perfectly styled, makeup flawless despite the heat, and she’s decked out in more jewelry than necessary- chunky gold bangles stacked up her arms, oversized hoops catching the light, rings weighing down her fingers. And, of course, she’s in heels.

High heels by a pool? You try not to think too hard about it.

Lionel is sprawled out on a lounger, sunglasses perched on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. His posture is relaxed, but the stress radiates off of him, his fingers twitching slightly, like he needs something to do, something to focus on. You can practically hear his brain working overtime, even though he’s technically supposed to be relaxing.

And then there’s Whisky.

She’s walking across the deck with slow, deliberate movements, every step purposeful, every inch of her oozing that lazy, confident sex appeal that makes it clear she knows exactly how she looks.

She makes her way over to Miles, who has picked up an acoustic guitar of all things, strumming lazily, looking insufferably pleased with himself. The image of it is enough to make your skin crawl: Miles Bron, billionaire, tech “genius,” barefoot on the deck of his fucking yacht, playing guitar like he’s some soulful artist just waiting to be discovered.

Whisky drapes herself over the back of the couch he’s perched on, her fingers trailing over his shoulders as he plays, and you tear your eyes away before you have to see him eat up the attention.

Instead, you focus on Claire.

You find her sitting stiffly beside you, eyes locked onto something across the deck, a very specific look settling over her features, the slight furrow of her brows, the way her lips press together, the subtle way her fingers twitch against her knee.

You follow her gaze and… oh, of course, she’s staring at Peg’s laptop.

You frown. “Oh, no. No way,” you say immediately, turning to face her fully, voice firm.

Claire blinks, like she wasn’t aware she’d been caught, turning her attention back to you. “What?” she asks, feigning innocence.

You narrow your eyes. “Baby.”

She huffs, shifting slightly, but doesn’t deny it. “I was just thinking I could-”

“No.”

“Just a few-”

“No, baby. No.” You shift onto your knees, leaning in closer, placing both hands on her cheeks dramatically. “You promised. No work this weekend.”

She sighs, her hands coming to rest on your thighs as she looks up at you, something playful tugging at her lips.

“I know, but-”

You pout.

Claire pauses.

You know what you’re doing, you know she hates when you pout, that it wrecks her every time.

“I never get this much time with you away from your laptop at home,” you continue, voice soft, a little wounded, pushing just enough to make her feel it.

She exhales sharply, her grip tightening on your thighs, like she wants to argue, wants to say just one email, just one quick check-in, but she can’t. Because she knows you’re right. And you know she hates disappointing you.

So she groans, tilting her head back dramatically. “Fine,” she relents. “No work.”

You beam, kissing her quickly. “That’s my girl.”

She exhales through her nose, shaking her head as she pulls you back into her lap, her arms wrapping around you completely, like she’s trying to prove she’s really, fully present with you.

And for the first time all morning, you feel like you can actually relax.

The sun glints off Birdie’s oversized sunglasses as she pushes them down her nose, appraising you and Claire with a slow, deliberate sweep of her eyes. The expression on her face shifts almost instantly, first with mild intrigue, then thinly veiled irritation as her gaze lands on you.

It’s subtle, but you see it, that tiny, involuntary twitch of her lips, the way her brows tighten ever so slightly.

It’s your youth, your freshness. It bothers her. You’re effortlessly radiant, still glowing from the morning’s laziness, from Claire’s kisses, from the unbothered softness of being utterly wanted without having to ask for it.

And Birdie knows it.

But, of course, she doesn’t comment on you. No, you’re not the target here. She turns to Claire instead, sliding her sunglasses off completely, flashing a too-wide, saccharine smile.

“Oh, Claire,” she coos, voice dripping with manufactured sweetness, “you look so cute.”

You arch an eyebrow, shifting slightly in Claire’s lap to look at Birdie properly, but Claire doesn’t even hesitate, she just deadpans right back at her and gives her the finger.

Birdie gasps, clutching her chest dramatically. “God, rude.”

You smirk, a little proud, but then a better idea hits you.

Birdie thinks she can just throw little jabs and keep moving, that her beauty, her legendary status, means she never has to sit in that discomfort herself. Maybe it’s time she gets a taste of her own medicine. You shift, tilting your head just so, letting your lips curl into something sweet, saccharine, but pointed.

“Oh, doesn’t she?” you say, voice light, airing on thoughtful, as you turn to Claire instead.

You drag your fingers along Claire’s shoulder, watching her eyes slightly darken at the touch, and then smile as you continue:

“Always so elegant and sexy,” you say, voice slipping into something deliberate, something knowing, “she doesn’t even have to try.”

You feel Claire react, the subtle shift of her muscles, the way her hands tighten just slightly around your waist.

Birdie’s expression hardens. It’s quick, the way her lips purse, the way her perfectly arched brows pull just a little, but you catch it. Not that she has time to say anything, because you keep going.

“Not that trying really hard is a bad thing, Birdie,” you add, still smiling, still so fucking sweet, “I mean, you’ve obviously spent hours on this, uh…” you gesture vaguely, taking in the chaotic swimsuit, the towering heels, the excessive accessories. “…ensemble.”

Claire chokes on a laugh.

Birdie’s jaw tightens.

Your smile widens, eyes glinting as you deliver the final blow. “You look cute, though,” you say easily. Then, after a beat, “Adorable, even.”

Birdie glares.

Claire loses it.

She actually snorts, a rare, genuine sound of amusement, before she hooks her arms around you, pulling you straight into her lap on the sun lounger.

You laugh as she presses a quick, gratified kiss against your temple, murmuring “Fucking love you” into your hair as you hand her the glass of white wine you had been holding.

You settle against her, draping yourself in her warmth, and let yourself relax.

Because here’s the thing, you never put other women down, you don’t believe in it. But Birdie Jay? Birdie needs to learn that messing with Claire means messing with you, and that’s a mistake she will always regret.

You sigh, fully melting into Claire’s arms, letting her warmth wrap around you as you rest against her chest. The midday sun is relentless, the heat seeping into your skin, making everything feel hazy, lazy, but Claire’s fingers, tracing soft, idle patterns up and down your bare back, keep you grounded. She smells like suntan lotion and white wine, and when you glance up at her, she’s already looking elsewhere, her sharp eyes locked onto Whisky.

Whisky, who is currently draped over Miles, her toned, bronzed legs curled over his lap, her manicured fingers trailing up and down his chest as she giggles at something he’s said.

It’s the fakest laugh you’ve ever heard.

Claire huffs softly.

You grin. “Oh, come on,” you murmur, just loud enough for her to hear. You tilt your head, resting your chin against her collarbone, eyes gleaming as you press closer. “It’s so obvious, right?”

Claire hums, still watching them, her fingers slowing as she absently traces the line of your spine. “I know,” she mutters, voice low with disbelief. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice before.”

You giggle. “You’ve been a little preoccupied, baby.”

She smirks at that, but her eyes stay on Whisky, her brows furrowing just slightly. “I just…” she exhales, shifting, adjusting you in her lap, her free hand reaching for her wine glass. “I wonder what she’s really getting out of this. I mean, what could possibly be worth having to act like Miles is desirable?”

You snort. “Not his billions?”

Claire scoffs, taking a sip of wine. “You couldn’t pay me enough.”

You bite your lip to stifle a laugh. “I think the second he pulled out his acoustic guitar, I’d lose it.”

Claire actually groans. “Jesus, don’t remind me of that. He thinks he’s fucking John Lennon.”

That sends you giggling, tucking your face into her shoulder as she shakes her head, lifting her glass again.

“God,” she mutters, “she must have the patience of a saint.”

You pull back, still grinning, and glance over at Duke, who is sitting at the edge of the pool, watching Whisky with open pride. His gun, because of course he brought it, rests beside him within arms reach, like being too far away from it would kill him.

Claire follows your gaze and sighs. “And Duke,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “I mean, I know he’s a meathead, but I’m still… God, I’m so disappointed in him.”

She tightens her hold on you slightly, shifting as she moves her wine glass to the table beside her. “I’d never pimp my partner out to get something. I don’t care what it is.”

You smirk, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, you sure?” you tease, tilting your head, your lips brushing against her jaw as you murmur, “You don’t wanna rent me out for Senate?”

Claire stills.

And then… she growls. It’s low, deep in her throat, as she immediately turns, shifting so quickly that you let out a surprised squeak. Her hands move fast, one gripping your waist, the other sliding down, fingers digging into your ass as she pulls you into her.

“Don’t even joke about that,” she mutters, voice dangerously low.

Then she kisses you. It’s not soft, it’s claiming. Possessive. Her fingers dig in, pressing you down hard against her, and you gasp, lips parting as she deepens the kiss.

“You’re mine,” she murmurs against your mouth, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Your head spins. You can’t help the breathy little moan you let out, or the way your fingers tangle in her hair, or how you immediately tilt your head to chase her lips when she pulls back, just slightly.

“I know, Mommy,” you whisper.

And fuck, her eyes go dark. She groans, kissing you again, slower this time, her hands smoothing up your back, her grip still firm but gentle, grounding herself in you, needing you close.

And honestly?

You love it.

The sun was relentless, pressing down on your skin in thick, golden waves. The day had barely begun, yet the air was already heavy, swollen with heat and tension that had nothing to do with the weather. You’d curled yourself into Claire’s side, letting her fingers trace lazy patterns along your spine, her touch grounding you, anchoring you to this moment.

“Claire.”

Lionel’s voice was quiet, almost careful.

You didn’t move immediately, still curled against Claire’s side, your lips brushing against the warm slope of her shoulder. But you felt the way her entire body tensed beneath you, the way the soft circling of her fingers stilled against your back, as if bracing herself.

You turned your head just enough to look at Lionel, sunglasses shielding his eyes, but his mouth was set in a firm line. His fingers tapped against the condensation on his glass.

“How are you feeling?”

The words might have seemed harmless to anyone else, a polite check-in after a night of drinking, a casual question between friends. But you weren’t just anyone else. You knew exactly what he meant. It had nothing to do with Claire’s hangover.

It had everything to do with Andi.

With the court case.

With the weight of what they’d agreed to do for Miles.

Even if you hadn’t been privy to all of the discussions, hadn’t been included in all the hushed, conspiratorial conversations that happened behind closed doors, you still knew. Because it was written all over Claire’s face. And Lionel’s.

They were the two most moral people in the group. The ones who should have been the first to walk away. The ones who, in any other scenario, wouldn’t have let themselves be backed into a corner like this. But instead, they were here. They were staying. They were testifying.

And you knew it was eating them alive.

The moment stretched between them, thick and suffocating. So you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Claire’s lips, trying to ease some of the tension gripping her body. You pulled back just slightly, brushing your thumb over her cheekbone.

She blinked, brows drawing together, concern creeping into her expression. You already knew what she was thinking. That maybe you felt pushed out. That maybe she wasn’t being a good enough partner to you, too caught up in her own shit to be fully present with you.

But you just gave her a small smile. “You and Lionel talk, baby.”

Claire’s frown deepened, searching your face, as if trying to make sure you really meant it.

You did.

You knew she needed to talk to someone about this. And Lionel was the only one who truly understood what she was going through.

She exhaled softly, her lips parting just slightly as she mouthed thank you before turning to Lionel.

You stood, stretching slightly, feeling the heat of the sun immediately settle against your skin.

You needed a drink. Something cold. Something that might help quiet the buzzing in your head, the unease curling in your stomach. As you walked toward the bar, you caught a glimpse of Claire and Lionel slipping into the infinity pool, the two of them drifting toward the far edge, the part where the water met the sky, where they could talk without worrying about being overheard.

You swallowed, jaw tightening. You hated this for her. Hated that she was carrying this. That she even had to make this choice. But you also knew she wouldn’t let you carry any of it for her. She was protecting you. Even if it hurt.

You reached the bar, stepping under the large umbrella and relishing the brief relief from the heat. The bartender glanced at you, wiping his hands on a towel before leaning forward slightly.

“What can I get you?”

You hesitated, considering. Something light. Something that wouldn’t add to the already growing nausea in your gut. “Just a pineapple juice, please.”

The bartender gave a short nod, turning to grab a glass when you felt it. A presence behind you. Too close. A hand on your waist that wasn’t Claire’s. Wrong.

Before your brain could fully register what was happening, you heard his voice, low, casual, friendly.

“Oh no, no, no,” Miles chuckled, his fingers pressing just slightly against the soft skin of your hip, too close to the knot of your bikini bottoms. “You have to try the Cuban Breeze. It’s so good. That was the drink that got us on the no-fly list at St. Barts.”

Your whole body locked up.

The heat of the sun suddenly felt suffocating.

Too hot. Too much.

You weren’t a stranger to touch. You liked being touched by Claire. By people you were comfortable with. People who had earned the right to put their hands on you.

But this?

Miles’ touch felt wrong.

It wasn’t overtly inappropriate, but it was just enough to set off every single alarm bell in your body.

Your heart started hammering, your stomach twisting as a sharp wave of unease rolled through you.

The urge to yank his hand off of you, to push him away, was immediate. But you hesitated, your mind racing. You knew exactly how dangerous Miles Bron was. You knew exactly what he was capable of. He could ruin Claire. Could ruin her campaign. Could ruin everything she had spent her entire career working toward.

And after last night, after the veiled threats and the barely concealed gloating, you knew better than to put a target on your back.

So you forced yourself to stay still.

You forced yourself to swallow the nausea rising in your throat, to keep your voice steady as you reached for the drink he was offering.

You barely looked at him.

Didn’t meet his eyes, didn’t give him anything.

Just took the glass, gripped it tight, and stepped away from his orbit, you from him. Your entire body felt cold, even as the sun blazed down on you. You needed to get back to Claire.

Now.

The ice in the glass clinked softly as you walked back to your sun lounger, the condensation slipping between your fingers as you lightly sipped at the ridiculously gaudy drink Miles had pushed into your hands.

It was absurdly overdone, chunks of pineapple bobbing at the surface, a skewer of bright red maraschino cherries resting precariously on the rim, and, as if that weren’t enough, a cheap plastic straw adorned with a fake parrot, its tiny beady eyes staring blankly at you.

You barely tasted the drink itself, the lingering unease from your interaction at the bar curling like smoke in your stomach. You needed to breathe, needed to sit down. Needed Claire.

Because Miles had touched you. And now, even as you walked, the phantom weight of his hand on your waist still lingered like an oil stain, seeping under your skin, impossible to scrub away.

Your sun lounger was waiting, shaded slightly from the relentless midday sun. You settled down, adjusting your wrap skirt, crossing your legs as you tried to will the tension from your shoulders. You weren’t going to let this ruin your day.

You’d just sit here, sip your ridiculous drink, and wait for Claire to finish her conversation with Lionel and come back to you.

But then you heard him. Again.

Miles’ voice, still that same casual, easy-going tone, as if he hadn’t just made your entire body lock up at the bar.

“So,” he started, walking up behind you, the sound of his bare feet padding against the deck making your stomach tighten. “Been getting any writing done on this trip?”

You took another slow sip of the Cuban Breeze, barely reacting before you calmly responded, “No. Claire and I agreed not to do any work while we’re here.”

It wasn’t a lie. It also wasn’t the whole truth. Because even if you wanted to write, there was no way you’d be able to focus, not with this group. Not with the stress and the constant, looming reminder of what Claire had agreed to do for Miles.

Miles hummed as if considering your words. “I like that,” he mused, stepping further into your space, his shadow briefly passing over you. “I respect that. Work-life balance, that’s important. But listen…”

He sat down across from you, too close, the movement making your body tense involuntarily.

“I’ve been on the phone with some high-profile publishing houses,” he said, flashing that Miles Bron™ smile, the one that was meant to be charming but just felt like a sales pitch. “They’re very interested.”

You blinked at him, fingers tightening slightly around your glass.

There it was. Again. That same offer. That same temptation. And for a split second, you thought about it.

Not because you wanted Miles’ help, but because you knew how easy it would be to say yes. To let someone like him open doors that were otherwise bolted shut. To skip the years of clawing your way through an industry designed to keep people like you on the outside. But you’d already made your decision.

So you exhaled softly, offering a polite, measured smile. “Thank you, but no thank you.”

Miles laughed like you’d just told him something hilarious. “Why not take the help?” he grinned, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. “This could be so good for you.”

And before you could even think, even process, his hand was suddenly on your thigh. Just resting there. Casual. Like it belonged there. Your entire body went rigid.

Your breath hitched. You knew what he was doing. It wasn’t an accident. Wasn’t innocent. It was a test. He was seeing how far he could push you.

Your skin crawled, the urge to shove him off of you overwhelming, but you hesitated. Because what if? What if you pushed back and he made things worse? What if he decided Claire wasn’t worth the effort anymore? What if he destroyed her campaign just because he could?

Panic started creeping in. Your throat tightened. And without thinking, your eyes darted to Claire. She was in the infinity pool with Lionel, their backs to you, she had no idea what was happening. She had no idea that you were sitting here, frozen, with Miles’ hand on you, with his voice in your ear, pressing you, pushing you, trying to see how much he could get away with.

And for the first time since this entire trip began, you felt unsafe. Miles’ hand was still on your thigh. Heavy and possessive like it belonged there.

Your breath caught in your throat, body locked up so tight you thought you might snap. The more he talked, smooth and friendly, the more you shrank, wanting to disappear, to fold in on yourself until there was nothing left. You barely even heard his words, too busy trying to keep yourself still, too afraid that pulling away too sharply would be seen as rude, that it would set him off, that he’d take it as an invitation instead of a rejection.

Say something.

Move.

Do anything.

But you felt frozen, caught between the weight of his palm and the horrible sinking feeling in your stomach, the knowledge that one wrong move could make everything so much worse.

And suddenly a voice cut through your inner turmoil. “Miles,” Birdie drawled, lazily pushing down her sunglasses to peer at the two of you. “Is that my Cuban Breeze?!”

Your heart lurched.

Miles’ head turned at the sound of his name, his hand still firm on your thigh as he smirked at Birdie.

“The very same,” he said, tipping the glass toward her.

Birdie gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest like she was shocked, but you could see it now. The carefulness. The practice. The way she made her voice all light and excitable, playing into the only role she knew how to play, the fun and brainless Birdie J she’d curated so perfectly over the years.

If you weren’t still reeling, still trying not to shudder at the feel of Miles’ touch, you might’ve been impressed.

Instead, you just sat very still, barely breathing, barely blinking, as Birdie tossed her hair and insisted, “Miles! That was mine! Okay, that’s it, come on, we’re getting another one! We are ending up in the pool tonight.”

Miles chuckled, finally pulling his hand away as he stood, letting Birdie loop her arm through his. “We’re starting in the pool,” he teased.

And just like that, he was gone. Dragged away in a flurry of heels and jewelry and gleaming white teeth.

The second he was out of reach, your breath left you in a sharp, uneven rush. It was like you could breathe again. Like you were finally allowed to.

Tears pricked at your eyes, burning hot and humiliating, and you hated it. Hated that your body had betrayed you. Hated that your hands were shaking, that you felt gross, that even now, with him gone, you could still feel his palm on your skin.

You sucked in a sharp breath, blinking rapidly, fingers curling into the fabric of your wrap skirt, trying to keep yourself together.

“Hey.” The sound of Peg’s voice made you stiffen.

When you turned, she was already watching you, her lips pressed into a thin line. Laptop snapped shut. She’d seen the whole thing. And even though Peg was a lot of things, tired, overworked, probably one bad day away from quitting, she wasn’t heartless.

“…You okay?” It was a simple question, one that you should’ve answered easily. But the words stuck.

You swallowed hard, nodding too fast, forcing out a shaky, “I… I’m fine.”

Peg didn’t believe you. Didn’t even pretend to. She sighed, fingers drumming against her knee before she suggested, “You wanna go to the bathroom? When Birdie frustrates me, I splash some cold water on my face. Helps.”

You hesitated, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “…Yeah,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, okay.”

She stood up, waiting for you, and you went to move, only to stop short. Because the second you stood, you felt exposed, like everyone was watching you.

Your bikini suddenly felt too small. Your wrap skirt felt too sheer. You wrapped your arms around yourself, willing the rising panic to settle, but the words still came out wobbly when you stammered, “I—I think I need to grab a cover-up or something.”

You felt stupid the second you said it, but thankfully Peg was patient. Like she understood. Like she’d been in your position before, like she knew how it felt to be powerless, to be just unimportant enough that speaking up against the wrong man could destroy your entire life.

She just nodded. “Okay.”

And you were about to move when a familiar voice called out: “Baby?”

You froze. Oh, God. Claire. She was still in the infinity pool with Lionel, but now she was frowning at you from where she leaned against the edge, arms draped over the stone, her body half-submerged in the water.

She’d been distracted before, caught up in the kind of tense, anxious conversation that made the heat feel more oppressive than it already was. But now? Now she was looking at you. And seeing.

Your stomach twisted violently. The last thing you needed was Claire’s attention on you. The last thing you needed was for her to notice. To ask questions. To put things together. Because if Claire figured out what had happened, she would kill him. You knew that. And nothing good could come from that.

So before you could even try to answer, Peg, calm, steady and carefully measured, gave her a practiced smile and called back, “We’re fine! Just going to get something.”

You could still feel Claire’s eyes on you, heavy with suspicion.

You forced yourself to nod like that was true, like that was all it was, and then quickly turned, following Peg inside while trying not to let the horrible weight in your stomach sink you.

Peg followed you into your room, letting out a low whistle as she took in the space. “Damn,” she muttered, hands on her hips. “You got this? I have a glorified closet next to Birdie.”

You barely heard her. Your heart was still hammering, your skin still crawling, the weight of everything still pressing down on your chest like a slab of stone.

You beelined straight for the bathroom, fingers gripping the door frame as you mumbled, “Um- thanks for, uh…getting me here. But I’m fine now. You can go.”

Peg frowned. You couldn’t see it, you were already pushing the door closed between you, but you could hear it in her voice when she asked, “Are you sure? I can wait, if you want. Saves me from getting splashed by Duke’s cannonballs.”

She was offering kindness, a way out. But you couldn’t take it. Because even though she’d helped, even though she’d seen what happened and quietly stepped in, it didn’t change the fact that you felt like your skin had been stripped raw, like you’d been ripped open and had nowhere to hide. The only thing you wanted, the only thing you needed, was to be alone.

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you, and murmured, “No, it’s okay. I might take a nap. Barely slept last night.”

Peg was quiet for a second, then she sighed. “…Alright.”

You heard her step away. The door clicked shut behind her. And then… nothing. Silence. For the first time since Miles had put his hands on you, you were alone.

You turned the lock with shaking fingers, turning the tap on full blast.

And then, you collapsed. Your knees hit the tile floor as you folded in on yourself, arms wrapping tight around your legs, forehead pressing against them as the first sob wrenched out of your chest, sharp and violent. You couldn’t stop it. Didn’t even try.

The sound of the rushing water drowned out your cries, but it didn’t drown out the feeling, the raw, suffocating sensation that filled every part of you, like your own body was a cage you were desperate to escape.

You could still feel him. His hand on your thigh. His arm around your waist. His voice, smooth and friendly, like he hadn’t been doing anything wrong. Like you were supposed to just accept it.

You pressed your hands against your face, trying to breathe, trying to make it stop, but nothing was working.

Because this wasn’t just Miles. This wasn’t just one moment. This was every time you’d felt small. Every time you’d felt powerless. Every time a man had looked at you and seen something that was his to conquer before you even got the chance to say hello.

And the worst part, the very worst part, was that you hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t pushed him away. Hadn’t made a scene. You just sat there frozen.

Another sob tore through you.

You clutched your knees tighter, nails digging into your own skin, trying to ground yourself, trying to remind yourself that he wasn’t here, that you were safe, that Claire would never let anything happen to you… oh god, Claire.

A new wave of panic crashed into you. Because Claire had seen you, she’d known something was wrong.

And if she found out, if she figured out what really happened, she would kill him. And Miles knew that. He counted on that. That was why he did it. Because he knew you wouldn’t dare tell her. Wouldn’t dare start anything that could ruin Claire’s chances, that could put her in a position where she had to choose between her career and you. You couldn’t let her find out. You couldn’t. Because if she did, this trip would turn into a bloodbath.

You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking, trying to shove that thought down, trying to shove everything down, until it was buried deep enough that it wouldn’t come back up.

But for now, you could do nothing but sit there hugging yourself, rocking slightly, crying so hard it hurt. You didn’t know how long you sat there, curled up on the cold tile floor, knees hugged to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself like you could somehow hold yourself together if you just squeezed tight enough.

At some point, the sobs slowed, your chest stopped heaving, and your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps instead of frantic, desperate gulps of air.

But the weight, the awful, sinking weight, still pressed down on you. You felt raw and stripped open. Exposed. Like if you looked in the mirror, you’d see something hollow staring back at you.

You couldn’t stay here, not on the floor. Not in this stupid fucking bikini that suddenly felt far too small, far too revealing, far too much like the exact thing Miles had been looking at, had been touching.

Your stomach turned as you forced yourself to your feet. Your legs were weak, shaking, like you’d been drained of everything that kept you upright, but you forced yourself to stumble out of the bathroom anyway.

Your vision blurred with the remnants of tears as you moved on autopilot, crossing the room to Claire’s suitcase, flipping it open, digging through neatly folded clothes and expensive fabrics until you found something soft and worn, something familiar.

An old Harvard alumni t-shirt.

The fabric was faded. The letters were cracking. The material was stretched from years of being yanked on, pulled over her head in half-asleep movements, tossed into the wash again and again.

She’d had it since college and she still brought it with her. You clutched it tight in your fingers, holding it to your chest for a moment before tearing the bikini off, ripping off the sheer skirt, pulling on a pair of Claire’s boxers, and yanking the t-shirt over your head.

The second it was on, you curled up on the bed, knees tucked to your chest, hands clenched in the fabric like a lifeline. It smelled like her like home, like safety.

You inhaled deep, trying to pull yourself together, trying to to fix yourself before she got back. Because if she saw you like this, if she even suspected something was wrong…

The door handle rattled.

You froze.

“Baby, why the fuck is the door bolted?” Claire’s voice called out, sounded worried and frustrated.

You scrambled off the bed, nearly tripping over yourself in your rush to reach the door, unlocking it with trembling fingers before pulling it open.

Claire was standing there, brow furrowed, eyes scanning over you the second she saw you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you rushed out, voice still hoarse from crying. “I just… I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking.”

Claire crossed her arms, still looking at you like she was trying to figure something out. “Why are you in here?” she asked, tone shifting from frustration to confusion.

You swallowed, heart hammering. “I-I wasn’t feeling great,” you lied. “Thought I might nap.”

Claire tilted her head, studying you closer. Her gaze drifted down, taking in the clothes you were wearing, her boxers, her t-shirt, and her frown deepened. “…Why are you in my clothes?” she asked. “Not that I mind, but…you look like you’re ready for bed.”

You clenched your fingers tighter in the fabric, struggling to keep your voice even. “I just- I just wanted to be comfortable.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed like she sensed something wasn’t right. And fuck, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it together.

Claire didn’t let it go, of course she didn’t. She was a politician. She was sharp, too sharp to let something like this slip past her. And you knew that. Knew that the second she’d seen you, standing in the doorway in her old t-shirt, looking pale and shaken, something in her had clicked.

So you weren’t surprised when her eyes softened, not with relief, but with something much worse, with worry and with concern. With that keen, assessing gaze that meant she was already putting together the pieces of something you weren’t ready to say out loud.

“Baby,” she murmured, voice gentler now. “Are you sure?”

You nodded too fast, too eager. Too desperate.

“I-I’m fine, Claire,” you said, voice tight. “I just… I wasn’t feeling great, Peg walked me up, that’s all.”

Claire’s frown didn’t lift. Her hand came up, her soft, steady fingers reaching for you, instinctively seeking out the warmth of your skin… and you flinched.

It was a small movement, barely even noticeable, but Claire had felt it. She felt it and she froze. The space between you, already so small, suddenly felt like a canyon.

Her hand, still suspended midair, twitched before curling slowly back into a fist, falling back to her side. And the look on her face… that fucking look. You’d seen her angry, seen her livid. But this? This was something else entirely. This was something fragile.

“Baby,” she said carefully, like she was afraid you might shatter if she wasn’t careful. “What’s happening?”

You forced yourself to smile. Your face felt stiff, unnatural, like it knew you were lying before your mouth even formed the words. “It’s nothing,” you said, voice falsely light. “I’m fine.”

Claire’s expression darkened. It was clear she didn’t believe you, but before she could push further, something else flickered across her face.

Something pained, something hesitant. She swallowed thickly, shifting on her feet, suddenly unable to meet your eyes as she murmured, “Is this about…? About the trial?”

Your stomach dropped. “I-…”

“I know how you feel about this,” she said quickly, voice just shy of desperate. “And I know I should’ve said no, I know it’s fucked, I know it’s Andi, and I—”

She exhaled sharply, raking a hand through her hair. “But I didn’t know what else to do,” she admitted, shaking her head, and you could see it, the spiraling thoughts, the gnawing guilt. “I couldn’t say no, I-”

She broke off, biting her lip. “Baby, please don’t be upset with me.”

The pain in her voice made your chest ache.

“Oh, Claire,” you whispered, stepping forward, practically scrambling into her arms. “I’m not, baby. I promise. I’m not.”

Her arms hesitated for half a second before they locked around you, pulling you tight against her like she’d been starving for you, like she had thought you were slipping through her fingers and she needed to hold on.

“I swear,” you whispered against her neck. “I swear, baby, I’m not upset with you.”

She still looked unsure, still looked unconvinced.

So you tilted your chin up, kissing her. Soft. Sweet. Like a vow. “Claire,” you whispered against her lips. “Kiss me.”

She exhaled shakily, brushing her lips against yours again, slow, hesitant, like she was still bracing herself. “Baby,” she murmured, voice barely there.

“Please,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

And that was all it took. Her hands gripped your hips, fingers pressing firm against the cotton of her boxers as she pulled you flush against her. Her mouth was soft, desperate against yours, kissing you with all the words she wasn’t saying, all the emotions tangled in her throat, all the tension coiling in her shoulders.

It wasn’t enough.

You kissed her harder, clutching at her like she was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. Because maybe… maybe she was.

Claire pulled away just slightly, enough to put space between your lips but not enough to let you go. Her hands still held you tight, her breath warm against your cheek as she searched your face.

Her fingers traced over the fabric of her old Harvard t-shirt on your body, her thumbs just grazing the bare skin of your thighs where the hem of the shirt rode up. The concern in her eyes was clear, cutting through the heat of the moment like a cold breeze.

“Baby,” she murmured, voice husky but still gentle. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t want to answer. Didn’t want to think about Miles. Didn’t want to think about the weight in your chest, the sick feeling in your stomach, the way your hands still trembled from earlier. So instead, you kissed her again. Only it wasn’t soft this time, it wasn’t careful, it was desperate. A need. A distraction.

Claire inhaled sharply through her nose, surprised, but didn’t hesitate to return it.

Her fingers tightened against your hips as you parted your lips, letting her deepen the kiss, her tongue sliding against yours. The room felt smaller, hotter, the air between you thick with tension.

She kissed you slowly, like she had all the time in the world to explore you, like she could feel something was off but wasn’t willing to pull away again just yet.

You weren’t going to let her. Your hands slid up her back, tugging her even closer, feeling the warmth of her skin through the lightweight linen of her shirt. You sighed against her lips, tilting your head to let her kiss deeper, harder, her teeth just grazing your bottom lip before she sucked it into her mouth.

And it worked for a while.

She let herself get lost in you, let you pull her down onto the bed, her hands exploring, moving under the oversized t-shirt to squeeze your waist, your hips, her fingertips grazing the sensitive skin at your sides. But then, again, she pulled back. Not much, just enough to make you chase after her, lips parted, eyes hazy, wanting more.

She smiled softly at how eager you were, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “Baby,” she murmured again. “Talk to me.”

No. Not now. Not when you could still feel his hands. Not when you could still hear the low rasp of his voice, the forced friendliness of it, the way his fingers had lingered.

So you did the only thing you could do. You took her hands, her strong, capable, safe hands, and guided them up your body. Up, under your shirt. Up, over the bare curve of your breasts.

The second she realized what you were doing, her breath hitched.

“Touch me,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Claire groaned. A deep, low sound in her throat, her fingers instinctively flexing over your soft skin.

Her thumbs brushed over your nipples, making you shiver, and you gasped softly as she squeezed, kneading the weight of your breasts in her hands, her eyes darkening as she watched you react beneath her.

“You’re not playing fair,” she rasped, her voice deeper, rougher.

You didn’t care. Didn’t care if you were playing fair, if you were playing dirty, if you were making it impossible for her to think straight. All you wanted was to forget. To lose yourself in her. To make this, her, the only thing in your head.

Claire groaned again, leaning down to kiss you, slower this time, deeper, her hands still warm, still perfect as she touched you exactly the way you needed.

And for the first time that day, you let yourself breathe.

Claire groaned against your lips, her fingers flexing, kneading the soft weight of your breasts. She squeezed, just enough to make you gasp, her thumbs brushing over your already sensitive nipples. You whimpered, arching into her touch, your body desperate for it, for her.

“Shit, baby,” she murmured, voice low and rough, breath hot against your cheek. “Love playing with your tits.”

A whimper caught in your throat as she rolled your nipples between her fingers, tugging just enough to make your back arch. Your head spun, pleasure drowning out everything else, every thought, every memory, every trace of him.

There was only her.

Only Claire. Only the warmth of her hands, the teasing pull of her fingers, the way she cupped and squeezed and played with you like she had all the time in the world.

Your hips shifted restlessly against her, desperate for more, but Claire was focused, obsessed even, her eyes locked onto you, watching every little reaction, every soft whimper and sharp intake of breath.

“Look at you,” she muttered, voice thick with want. “So fucking pretty, baby. You like this?”

You could only nod, lips parted, a tiny, desperate sound slipping from your throat.

Claire smirked, then tugged at your nipples again, harder this time.

You whined, thighs squeezing together, body writhing under her.

She groaned at the sight, shifting to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your neck, nipping lightly at your skin. “Sensitive little thing,” she mused, rolling her hips just slightly against yours. “Love having my hands on you. Could touch you all fucking day.”

You gasped, your body a live wire under her touch, your mind too fuzzy to hold onto anything else, no worries, no fears, no past. Just Claire. Just her hands. Just the perfect way she owned you, made you forget everything except how good she made you feel.

Claire groaned, her fingers still teasing, still tugging, still making you squirm. Her thumbs brushed over your stiff nipples, and you gasped, your whole body trembling under her touch.

“Touch me all day,” you whimpered, desperate, pressing your chest further into her hands. “Please, baby. Don’t stop. I don’t wanna leave this room, I don’t wanna go anywhere, I just wanna stay here with you. Till this trip is over, till we’re home even, just stay with me, please.”

Her hands squeezed, tugged, making you gasp again, back arching. “Not until you tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours,” she murmured, voice husky but firm, her thumbs rolling over your sensitive peaks.

A whimper left your lips as you scrambled for something, anything to keep her from pressing, to keep her hands on you, to keep you here, safe.

“Nothing,” you gasped, shaking your head. “Can’t think of anything but you, please, mommy.”

Claire froze.

For the first time since she had laid her hands on you, she paused, fingers still resting against your flushed, sensitive skin, her dark eyes searching yours. Because she knew. She knew you. She knew how you sounded when you were desperate, when you wanted her. She knew how you sounded when you were trying to run. And right now, she could tell the difference.

She frowned, torn, her fingers twitching against your skin. Because fuck, here you were, your tits out, gasping, offering yourself to her like the sweetest fucking thing she’d ever seen, like all you wanted was for her to take care of you, to make you forget. But she hated that you needed to forget something. She hated the way you had flinched before. She hated the way you were running from something you weren’t telling her about.

Her jaw tensed, eyes flicking between yours, searching, debating, trying to decide whether to push or to give in, to give you what you wanted, what you needed, or to pull back, to demand the truth. Her hands were still on you, warm, steady, but her gaze was something different now, something deeper, something filled with something close to fear. And she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do with it.

Claire’s hands dropped from your body completely as she stepped back, putting space between you for the first time since she’d walked into the room. The shift in her presence was instant. Where there had been heat, hunger, devotion, there was now something sharp, something concerned, something demanding.

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “Baby, no. I love you, but no. You’re talking to me about this.”

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably, and you sighed, tugging your top back down to cover yourself, suddenly feeling too exposed, too vulnerable. You folded your arms over yourself, hugging your own body, trying to push down the sting of tears in your throat.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured. “It’s stupid. A total overreaction, honestly, don’t worry.”

Claire’s eyes darkened in an instant. “Overreaction to what?”

You exhaled heavily, your gaze flicking anywhere but her, trying to will the tension in the room to evaporate, to let this moment pass. But Claire wouldn’t let it pass. Not when she was looking at you like that, standing there so still, so steady but ready, like a storm just before it broke.

You clenched your jaw, fingers gripping your own arms. You could still feel it, the weight of his arm slung around your waist, the press of his palm against your hip, the casual, entitled way he had touched you, like you were just another thing in his collection.

You swallowed, forcing the words out. “Miles touched me.”

The room went silent. Claire went rigid. “What the fuck did you just say?”

You sighed, shaking your head quickly, already seeing the way her expression was shifting, darkening into something terrifying, something lethal.

“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you,” you said quickly, voice tight with nerves. “It was nothing, really.”

But Claire was already moving before you could stop her, spinning toward the door like she was about to hunt him down, like she was going to tear him apart.

“Claire- no,” you gasped, grabbing her wrist, holding on tight. “Please. It’s not- it’s not that serious.”

She turned back to you, her entire body vibrating with fury, her jaw clenched so tightly you could hear her teeth grind. “Not that serious?” she repeated, voice low, dangerous. “He touched you. You flinched when I tried to touch you, baby. And you want me to pretend that’s not that serious?”

You swallowed, shifting closer to her, your grip on her wrist tightening as panic built in your chest. “Claire, please,” you whispered. “You know him. You know what he’s like. If you make this a thing, he’s gonna- he’s gonna lash out, he’s gonna make things worse. I can’t- I can’t let you do this. It’s not important enough to make waves, okay?”

Claire’s nostrils flared, her entire body tense, her fists clenched so hard they shook. “Baby,” she said, voice low, raw, pained, “you are the most important thing.”

You let out a shaky breath, moving in closer, pressing yourself against her as if you could just melt into her body, as if you could disappear into her arms and make all of this go away.

“Then don’t say anything,” you whispered, voice pleading. “For me, okay? Just- just don’t say anything. Just stay with me. It’s not long now, till this is over. Just stay with me.”

She let out a slow, heavy breath, and for a moment, you thought she might argue, might tell you she couldn’t stay silent, that she wouldn’t. But then she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly, her hands finally coming up to grip your arms, sliding up, squeezing gently.

She leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours, her breath warm on your lips. “Fine,” she murmured. “I won’t say anything.”

You exhaled in relief, letting yourself fall into her, wrapping yourself around her, inhaling the scent of her, the scent of something grounding, something safe.

“But I promise you this,” she said, voice firm, unwavering. “I won’t leave your side for a second.”

Claire held you close, arms locked around you like she was anchoring you to the world, keeping you safe. And for a second, just a second, you let yourself believe that maybe she could, that maybe if she just held you tight enough, she could erase it, make the sick feeling in your stomach disappear, make the memory of his hand on your thigh vanish.

But your chest tightened, and you let out a shaky breath, pressing your face into the crook of her neck as the tears finally spilled over.

Claire’s grip immediately tightened, her hand stroking up and down your back, her lips pressing against your hair. “Baby,” she whispered, pained, helpless. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

And that only made you cry harder.

“It wasn’t even explicit,” you choked out, voice thick with tears. “It’s not like he- he said anything outright, or, or forced anything, or even made me feel threatened exactly, it was just…” You swallowed hard, hands fisting in the fabric of her shirt. “It was just the way he made me feel.”

Claire exhaled slowly, her jaw clenched against your temple, silent but listening.

You sniffled, trying to collect yourself, but it was so hard when she was holding you like this, when the warmth of her body was so safe but the memory of his touch was still lingering.

You took a shuddering breath. “And the book deals… God, Claire, the way he talks about them, it’s like a business proposition. Like- like, look at Whisky, she played the game, she made herself useful, so why wouldn’t I?” Your throat tightened. “And the worst part is, it didn’t even feel calculated. He wasn’t, like, deliberately pressuring me. It’s just…”

You shook your head, letting out a bitter, wet laugh.

“It’s just that he assumed,” you whispered, voice raw. “He assumed that if he made a move, if he offered himself up, I wouldn’t be able to resist.”

Claire’s hold on you turned almost crushing, her breath shaking as she nuzzled into your hair. “He really thinks he’s that fucking irresistible,” she muttered, voice dark, dangerous.

You huffed out a small, mirthless laugh, tears still slipping down your cheeks. “I mean,” you said weakly, “I’m a lesbian. Surely he must know this won’t work on me.”

Claire let out an incredulous breath, shaking her head against yours, and then she pulled back slightly, cupping your face in her hands, wiping your tears away with her thumbs.

“Oh, baby,” she murmured, voice thick with a painful sort of fondness, something utterly devoted but also furious on your behalf.

You sniffled, pressing into her touch, her warmth, her safety.

“I hate him,” Claire said simply, fingers stroking your cheeks, voice soft but lethal. “I hate him so much, baby.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling slowly. “I know.”

“And I can’t do anything about it?”

You swallowed, looking at her desperately. “Please, Claire.”

Her jaw clenched, and she took a slow, grounding breath. “Okay,” she murmured, voice rough, uneven. “Okay. But I’m not letting him near you again.”

You nodded, finally, fully collapsing into her arms.

And she held you like she never intended to let you go.

~

Claire had been holding you for what felt like forever, her hands gentle but firm, her touch grounding you, keeping you here, keeping you safe. Her thumbs kept stroking small, soothing circles into your back, and every few moments, she’d kiss the top of your head like she needed to remind you she was there, like she needed to remind herself that you were safe in her arms.

Eventually, you sniffled, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Okay,” you whispered, voice still thick from crying. “We should go back out.”

Claire searched your face, her hands coming up to cup your cheeks, her thumbs brushing over your damp skin. She hesitated, like she was looking for any reason to keep you in here, away from them, but eventually, she nodded.

“Yeah, baby,” she murmured. “Wanna swim together?”

The corner of your lips quirked, a small, shy smile as you nodded.

She beamed, her whole face lighting up like she was so proud of you for being brave enough to step outside again, and she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back. “Okay,” she said gently, giving your arms a little squeeze. “Let’s get changed.”

Your heart fluttered as you moved to grab your bikini, but the moment you held it in your hands, you hesitated, suddenly feeling too exposed, too seen.

Claire noticed immediately, stepping behind you, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “Hey, baby,” she murmured, voice soft. “It’s okay. Why don’t we bring a cover-up for when we get out of the pool, yeah?”

You nodded, letting out a small breath of relief, and Claire kissed your temple before helping you change. She took her time adjusting the strings of your bikini, making sure you were comfortable before slipping a light, soft cover-up over your shoulders. Her fingers smoothed down the fabric, and then she pulled you into her chest, wrapping her arms around you.

“Perfect,” she murmured, lips pressing softly against the shell of your ear. “So, so perfect, baby.”

You melted into her, letting her kiss you slow and sweet before she finally took your hand and led you back outside.

The sun was bright, almost too bright after the dimmed comfort of the bedroom, and for a moment, you hesitated. But Claire squeezed your hand, glancing over at you with a warm, reassuring smile, and just like that, the tension in your shoulders eased.

She guided you to a sun lounger, settling you down before straddling the lounger behind you, reaching for the sunscreen.

“Can’t have my baby getting burned,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck before squeezing a generous amount of sunscreen into her hands.

You shivered as her fingers smoothed over your back, rubbing the lotion into your skin with slow, thorough movements. She took her time, her hands massaging over your shoulders, your arms, your spine, her thumbs pressing gently into the muscles of your back.

“You’re so tense, baby,” she murmured, kissing the top of your shoulder as her hands kneaded softly. “Just relax, I’ve got you.”

You let out a small, content sigh, leaning into her touch as she continued working the sunscreen over your skin, her hands trailing down your sides, over your stomach, your thighs. By the time she was done, you were practically boneless, melted into her lap.

She chuckled, kissing the side of your neck again. “All good?”

You turned to her with a soft, sleepy smile, reaching for the sunscreen bottle. “Your turn.”

Claire smirked but let you maneuver yourself onto your knees, facing her as you squeezed some sunscreen onto your palms. You started at her shoulders, your hands gliding over her skin, taking your time to rub in the lotion with the same slow, methodical care she’d given you.

When you reached her chest, you frowned, tsking lightly. “Baby, you’re burning up,” you murmured, pouting.

Claire laughed, shaking her head as you ran your hands over her collarbones, her sternum, rubbing in more sunscreen than necessary, but she wasn’t about to complain when you were touching her so sweetly.

“Is that so?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded firmly, smoothing more lotion over her shoulders, pressing a lingering kiss to her clavicle before finally pulling back. “There. Now you’re safe.”

Claire grinned, stealing a quick kiss before taking your hand and guiding you toward the pool.

The water was cool against your overheated skin, and the second you both stepped in, you melted, your muscles relaxing under the gentle sway of the water.

Claire waded in deeper, and the moment she was deep enough, you launched yourself into her arms, wrapping your legs around her waist, your arms around her shoulders, clinging to her like a little koala.

She let out a soft, delighted laugh, immediately wrapping her arms around you, one hand splayed over your back, the other cupping the back of your head. “There’s my baby,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You hummed, burying your face in her neck, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of her sunscreen, her shampoo, her everything.

She swayed the two of you gently in the water, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles into your back.

“Better?” she murmured.

You nodded, nuzzling into her.

She kissed the top of your head, her arms tightening around you. “Good,” she whispered. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m not letting go.”

And you believed her.

You were so warm, so content, pressed against Claire’s chest in the pool, her arms wrapped around you as the water gently rocked you both. The sun was high in the sky, making everything hazy and golden, and you felt yourself slowly slipping into that perfect in-between space, not quite asleep, not quite awake, just floating.

Claire must’ve noticed, because she pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “Getting sleepy, baby?”

You hummed, barely able to keep your eyes open, completely at ease in her arms. “Mhm.”

But before you could drift off, a loud, roaring noise shattered the peace, making you jump in shock. You instinctively clung tighter to Claire, heart thudding as the sound grew closer, and then…

VROOOOM.

Your head snapped around just in time to see three luxury jet skis zooming through the water at high speed, the engines slicing through the otherwise still bay. They were sleek, brand new, painted in obnoxious metallic colors, gold, deep red, electric blue.

From the deck, Miles clapped his hands together, grinning wildly. “Gang! The speedboats are here!!”

Lionel, who had been sitting with his sunglasses on, letting his stress radiate into the atmosphere, slowly turned to look at Miles and sighed heavily. “Miles… these are jet skis. Very different.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Same thing.” Then he grinned again, rubbing his hands together like some cartoon villain. “Now, c’mon! Let’s see who can beat Duke!”

Duke, already puffing up with pride, flexed his arms, the ridiculous tattoo of a gun on his bicep bulging. “Hell yeah, bro!” He turned to Whisky, all amped up now. “Babe! We need to take some videos for the channel, c’mon!”

Whisky, who had been lounging under the sun with an expression of mild boredom, suddenly perked up. She flipped her hair back, flashing a camera-ready smile. “Yes, Duke-y! Sounds good!”

You could tell immediately that she was excited to be featured more on the channel. A chance to get more views, to build a bigger following. She was already pulling out her phone, checking the angles, making sure she was camera-ready.

You sighed and turned your attention to Claire, who was watching the scene unfold with the most unimpressed expression you had ever seen. “…Baby,” you murmured, voice amused, “you don’t look very excited.”

Claire scoffed, glancing back at the jet skis with an expression like they had personally offended her. “That’s because I’m not.”

You grinned, already knowing full well that high-speed water sports were not her thing. “Aw, come on. You don’t wanna go race Duke?”

She shot you a look. “Absolutely not.”

And honestly? You were kinda with her on that one.

Taglist: @harknessshi @agathascoven1 @notorious-vick @jessica-mcd @sapphicfleur @lisqueen @starryjeongyeon @brekker157 @maximilfism @meghina18 @onlybynightandonlybysea @buttercandy16 @milflovers4 @rigglemethat @mistyshane30 @certified-sleep-deprived @agathaallalongg @yun4-st4rx @psychickryptonitebouquet @athnastasia @eletricheart @her0in-addicttt @writerspirit @sarahhh-plz @imlike-so-gaydude @morallygreymilfs @worstendingever @trasheddoll2 @womankissersworld @rizzlesregal13 @lowlyjelly @nightlyconfusion @morgananyx @agathaspett

[pomefioredove]

Hi!! I’d like to request Epel, Vil, & Rook with a reader who is always quiet and shy but has a very over-the-top and eye-catching sense of style. Bracelets and bangles up to their elbows, massive dangly earrings that clink with every move, attracting stares (and magpies) wherever they go despite being as timid as a mouse.

as a goth who hates being looked at or talked to this is TOO real

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ pomefiore style

summary: stylish but shy reader type of post: headcanons characters: epel, rook, vil additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, rook is rook

you're pretty, you're polite, you attract attention everywhere you go

basically everything Epel is not

now, Pomefiore students notoriously hate being outdone

any outsider looking in might assume what Epel feels for you is... jealousy

you dull his own beauty just by standing next to him!

but to Epel...?

you are a BLESSING

he will drag you around with him everywhere

(the one time he doesn't mind holding hands...)

when you're with him, people stare at you, compliment your beauty, and leave him be

it's a mutually beneficial relationship, though

people will look at you as the delicate one, and he can do all the talking for 'ya!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

sorry. sorry

but Rook will antagonize you on purpose

constantly putting you on the spot, trapping you in endless conversations, finding you wherever you hide...

for... normal reasons

okay. not normal reasons

he just doesn't want you to hide your beauty away from the world, that's all!

shyness is not deal-breaker for him

(if anything, he likes it. makes the hunt CHASE more exciting)

after all, to him, a secret beauty is the rarest of all

you are his souris, adorable but timid

he is such a freak I'm sorry

if you like him enough, you'll get used to it. if not, Vil will eventually taken pity on you and intervene

"would you leave the poor thing alone," in his own words

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

not unlike Rook, Vil thinks it's a disgrace for you to hide yourself away

from the world, yes, but more importantly, from him

the guidance he could give you...

he can practically envision you blooming into a beautiful flower

you already know your way around a wardrobe, that's for sure

you turn heads everywhere you go

and the way you present yourself implies that you have some confidence, you just reserve it for...

something that's not eye contact?

there's much to be done, but only if you agree to do it

he can't promise you anything in return but his company

which is invaluable. to him, at least

...and, apparently, to everyone else

with him by your side, you attract twice the amount of usual stares

and if you get nervous? you're permitted to hold his hand

...in front of all those people

for... no reason...

[ellesreids]

hi!! i wanted to send in a request for a spencer reid x reader fic. i don’t have a particular plot in mind (or you can create headcanons, if you prefer) so you may have to get creative but i love the idea of a funky whimsical reader. like she wears fun socks and has too many plans and has bugs as pets. like an elementary school art teacher vibe yk? maybe she actually is an elementary school art teacher or maybe she works at the bau, you’re choice. i just love this concept cause everyone writes the reader so similarly to spencer, but i think he’d be really compatible with a type b creative person too :) all i ask for is loads of fluff!! i love your writing and im so excited to see what you do with this :) tysm!! sending love ✨⭐️🎀💗

I absolutely love her I already wanna write more and more about her!! thank you for requesting lovely, sending back ten times more love <3 this is basically like a backstory to how they met and got together, but I'm literally already thinking about writing a few blurbs lol.

──── ⊹☆⊹ ────

You and Spencer first met when the FBI was doing their annual school visits at the elementary school where you taught. The whole school hall was packed with children and teachers, and Spencer felt like he was minutes from fainting because he knew he was up next to present and he knew it was going to be near torture trying to explain profiling to a bunch of ten year olds.

Just before he was set to go on stage, his eyes had caught yours. It's not like you were hard to find anyway — you stuck out like a sore thumb, actually. A far cry from any average teacher, with clothes so colorful and lively and jewelry that adorned you all over. Spencer was already starstruck, and he hadn't even talked to you yet.

When you saw him, you gave him a small smile in greeting, noticing his very nervous demeanor, and somehow that alone had helped quell a bit of the firing nerves that shot through his body. The kids couldn't care less what Spencer was talking about, and much less the teachers, but you practically had your eyes glued to him, giving him encouraging nods as he sputtered his way through his fully memorised presentation.

He had tried to talk to you after his speech was over, but as all the kids were pushing their way outside of the hall and back to their respective classes, he lost you somewhere in the crowds. He thought about you for days after that encounter, and didn't get to see you again until about a week later, when you, by some miracle, walked into the bullpen of the BAU holding a huge fruit basket that had been meant to be given to the team the day of the school visit. You definitely were a spectacle, turning heads and piquing interest as you made your way through the office. Flowy skirt, crinkled, paint-stained shirt, and jiggling bangles in contrast to all the crisp, perfectly tailored suits that surrounded you.

Morgan, ever the gentleman, saw you struggling and offered to help take the gift from your hands, and you thanked him profusely. Just as you were getting ready to make your way back to school after some friendly small talk with Morgan, you noticed him, sitting at his desk seemingly completely enraptured with the file he was reading. The cute agent that had been so nervous he started turning pale. The colour had definitely returned to his face now, and he looked even cuter than before, so after politely excusing yourself, you decided to make your way over to his desk.

When Spencer saw you standing at his desk, same warm smile as before when you greated him, he was starstruck all over again, sitting there with a mouth slighty agape as you complimented his total wreck of a presentation. "I'd like to treat you to a coffee sometime to, y'know, say thank you for coming to talk to the kids." It was a horrible cover-up, but it seemed to work nevertheless, and when the doctor had gathered enough of his impressive IQ points, he managed to accept your offer in an almost incoherent mess of words.

You had since then taken him out to coffee, and naturally, a date followed, and then a few more.

And now, Spencer couldn't even believe his luck. He had almost made peace with the idea that he'd never see you again, and now you were sitting across him in the busy restaurant on your now sixth date. In many ways, you and Spencer are complete opposites. Where Spencer thrives in routine and familiarity, you're much more flexible and adaptable. You're a take it as it comes kind of person, yet he functions better the further away he can plan.

Your patience and creativity make it easy for him to see why you're a teacher as well, and Spencer swears he'd already fallen in love by the first date. He tries to reel it in, though, afraid of scaring you off with his overeagerness, but you don't seem to mind at all. You look at him with stars in your eyes every time he rambles about whatever subject he seems to have endless knowledge on, and sometimes you even counter with your own rambles. The two of you complemented each other in the most perfect way; like two opposite poles of a magnet, yet unstoppably drawn to each other.

After your date, he takes you home and walks you to the door like a gentleman, and when you ask him if he'd like to stay for a cup of tea, he accepts with a shy smile and red-tipped ears. If he thought your clothes were a perfect reflection of your personality, your house is even more so. The inside is filled with the type of warm lighting that feels nostalgic, the scent of cinnamon and bergamot permeates through the air, trinkets and paintings are scattered in every corner his eyes falls to and plants are pearched on and near every window in sight.

You take off your shoes, and he mimics you, the both of you bursting into a fit of giggles when you notice each others' socks. The two of you make your way to your living area as the kettle boils, and he's greeted by your cat, rubbing herself against his leg with a soft purr. "She likes you," you say with a happy shriek, "and she normally doesn't like anyone that fast, so you should feel honored." He does feel honored, funny enough. If it means that much to you, it means even more to him that your cat likes him.

For probably the millionth time since he's met you, he's completely enamored with you. He watches as you speak animatedly, one hand petting the cat now in your lap while the other holds your cup of tea. He winces a little when you move the cup around so seemingly neverminded, but you've managed to not spill anything yet, which he thinks is quite impressive.

His brain was going a hundred miles a minute as you. He realized he'd now had something, someone to look forward to when he returned from cases. Someone who waited for him and missed him. He had someone to share his thoughts with, someone who listened and truly cared about everything he had to say.

The realization makes his heart ache, this funny feeling that starts in his chest and spreads through his whole body like white heat. He feels a little breathless, hand absent-mindedly clutching his chest in a way that would probably seem melodramatic to anyone else watching.

"Spencer? Are you okay?" you ask, breaking him from his reverie as you place your almost empty cup on the nearby coffee table before you're feeling his forehead with the back of your hand. It was silly, but you were so used to working with kids who got sick out of the blue, and Spencer had suddenly started looking deathly pale.

"I'm fine, it's just," he hesitates, and you pull your hand away, carefully shuffling a little closer to show him he had your undivided attention. "I'm very happy we found each other," he finally says, eyes lifting from his lap to gauge your reaction.

"I'm just as happy, Spence," you smile, "you make me very happy." Without really thinking about it, you press a kiss to his cheek to reiterate your words. As soon as you're pulling away, Spencer's chasing your lips with his, and in a very uncharacteristically bold move, he kisses you in a way he hopes will reiterate his words just as perfectly. You return the kiss tenfold, hands grasping his face as you pulled him impossibly closer, kissing him until you both were breathless. Once you're pulling away, Spencer feels like his brain is steadily melting out of his ears, heart beating faster than he thinks is healthy.

That was the night you Spencer asked you to be his girlfriend, and since then, his days have been brighter than ever.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Jamaai Ghar Aaye ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

Summary: Lando and you go back home from your honeymoon. You hadn't realised how much your parents had changed in that short period of time.

⤑ ln x desi!reader 𔓘

⤑ fluff 𔓘

masterlist ☾☼

marrying lando had been a dream come true. it was something you hadn't expected, but god, you were glad it happened.

now, after not only getting married, but being back to india, to your city after your honeymoon really made you realise just how real the relationship was. the two of you had planned to stay in india for a week with your family, before going to monaco. lando had to begin with his training soon, and you had to get back to work. it worked out well for you.

standing just outside the airport, you quickly spotted your cousin's car, and the two of you dragged your bags over. your cousins stepped out, hugging the both of you, and put the bags in the trunk.

lando and you climbed into the back seat, where you rearranged the bags to sit in the middle, closer to where lando was against the window.

he immediately wrapped an arm across your shoulder and you leaned into him, holding his hand, enjoying the way your red bangles clinked against each other. he pressed a distracted kiss against your temple, his attention on the people outside as your cousin made his way out of the airport pick up and drop.

"so, how was the honeymoon?" your cousin in the passenger seat asked, turning from his seat.

you brightened up, and leaned forward to tell him all kinds of stories. your hands moved animatedly, and every now and then, lando chimed in with a part that you missed.

"are you pregnant yet?" your cousin asked.

your cousin in the driver's seat coughed loudly as he tried to hide his laugh, and you glared at him. smacking your cousin's arm, you said, "what kind of question is that?"

"what? the only reason you can have sex is if you're trying to get pregnant!"

lando laughed, "mate, how many kids do you have?"

"shut up! i don't have sex that often!"

"sure you don't," your husband responded, still chuckling.

"hey, stay out of my sex life!"

"you stay out of ours then! no no, better yet, stay out of your baby sister's sex life, unless you want me to tell you all about how i made her c-"

"no, no, no, no shut up! i don't want to know! i don't care! stop talking!"

everyone in the car burst out laughing. serves your cousin right.

all four of your phones buzzed at the same time, and you checked the notification. your mom was asking in the family group if you and lando were on your way yet. quickly clicking on the camera icon on whatsapp, and setting it on selfie mode, you snapped a picture of you and lando making goofy faces.

sending the picture, you let your family know that you were about five minutes away. all you got was a thumbs up in response.

tuning back into the conversation happening in the car, you realised that your cousin from the driver's seat was talking.

"there's a full daawat at home,"

"what's a daawat?" lando asked you softly.

"it's like a full meal. multiple types of starters and main dishes and desserts. that kind of thing," you responded, just as softly.

"why is there a daawat?" lando asked, his question directed towards your cousins. the confusion was obvious in his voice, and despite him slightly butchering up the pronunciation of the word, you still appreciated it.

your cousin looked at lando from the rear view mirror and smirked, "jamaai ghar aaye hai,"

before lando could ask, your cousin parked the car in the allotted parking space, and the four of you got out of the car.

lando fussed around with the bags, insisting on taking out all the local sweets that he had handpicked from your honeymoon.

"baby, we can give it to them once we go inside,"

lando shook his head, already holding the pile of boxes, "no. we gotta give them now. what's that thing you say when you buy chocolates or a bottle of wine or something when we go to someone's house?"

you bit your lip, trying to hide your smile as you said, "khaali haath kisi ke ghar nahi jaate?"

"bang on," lando said, and walked towards the front door.

your cousins followed behind him with the suitcases, grumbling about their weight.

before you could even reach the door, your parents stepped out, arms wide and smiling. seeing them instantly filled you with joy, and you opened your arms as well to hug them. your parents sidestepped you, and hugged your husband, taking the boxes from his hands and dumping them in your open arms, as they quietly chatted for a bit.

you frowned, and watched as your husband leaned down and pressed his hand to your parents' feet before touching that hand to his chest.

well, at least sanskaar acche sikhaaye hai tumne.

your cousins laughed behind you, but you ignored them.

settling the boxes, you greeted all your aunts and uncles, and you joked a little bit with your cousins as well. you kept a watch on lando from the corner of your eye. he hugged and laughed with the entire family, and you couldn't help but notice how much attention he was receiving.

it made you happy. of course it did.

when your aunt called for dinner, you insisted that lando begin with his meal while you freshen up a bit to get rid of the flight feel.

picking your bag and walking to your room, you began winding down. changing into fresh clothes, you tied your hair, removed all your excess jewellery, washed your face and did your short skincare routine.

once you were done, you walked back to the dining room, and slowed down at the scene in front of you. lando sat at the head of the table, his plate filled with different delicacies. your entire family were surrounding him, offering him more food, and feeding him if required.

with a frown, you sat on the other end of the table, where your cousins sat, talking amongst themselves.

you began serving your plate, and every time you asked an aunt or uncle for a particular dish, they gave it to you without even glancing at you, and it only made you frown more.

as you ate, you watched the special treatment your husband was receiving from your family.

"what the fuck is happening?" you asked lowly to your cousins.

they looked at the scene that you had been watching. your mother was forcing gulab jamuns in his mouth, and you could tell lando was loving the attention.

your cousin sister snorted, "isn't it obvious? jamaai ghar aaye hai,"

you scrunched up your face as you watched all the gulab jamuns vanishing, and silently wished you had taken two beforehand.

sighing you said, "i miss when i used to be the favourite child,"

your cousins laugh, "it always ends up being the jamaai,"

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

@partiallyderived this is for you! i got this idea a long time ago when we were talking about your dad basically seeing lando as his son-in-law. baba maan gaye ismein bhi ;)

lemme know what you think of it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Prince Malleus Draconia vs Human Pettiness

So we’ve all heard about the trope of angry humans doing petty stuff to avoid their supernatural s/o’s. Like dating a werewolf and wearing silver, or dating a vampire and eating Italian (or entering a house that they haven’t been invited to) or dating a demon sitting in a salt circle or even dating a fairy and wearing iron.

So let’s say you’ve had an argument with your unfairly handsome fae boyfriend and later, being the stubborn-as-a-mule human you are, realise that even though you’ve somewhat calmed down, you’re still very cross with him so you decide to get back in your own way. You may have come into Twisted Wonderland with no magic but you did possess the stories and folklore of your non-magical world. You grew up with the tales of the men and women of yore that whispered horror stories of curses, kidnappings and enchantments, fairy rings and changeling children - and it’s time to put your childhood fascination of the once-fictional-but-now-part-of-your-reality to shine.

Of course, you started with the iron jewellery; any type of bijouterie in your possession that you could possibly wear, you did. Rings, necklaces, bangles, anklets, earrings, chains, studs on your clothing, the prong of your belt, even the clips in your hair - all made out of pure iron (most of them a gift from Leona for reasons you weren’t too sure you wanted to know). You even managed to replace the buttons of your school blazer for shiny new metallic ones.

Next, you fortified your stronghold to ensure that any pesky fairies wouldn’t be able to enter. You hung up an iron horseshoe onto the door of Ramshackle and sprinkled salt all around its perimeter. You found some of your old clothes that were no longer in use and turned them inside out before placing them both inside Ramshackle and outside. Next you hung up bells and deep-toned wind chimes on as many places on Ramshackle’s exterior you could find. Then, after marvelling at your handiwork, you went to your bedroom and relaxed.

*Insert a pouting Malleus sulking ten feet away from you, physically unable to come closer, mentally debating whether or not he should be impressed by your commitment*