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v6quewrlds · 2 months ago

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&.⠀⠀SAIGON⠀⋆⠀JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x doctor!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀10.4k.

summary⠀⁎⠀in small doses, stubbornness is attractive. it's the reason why they're both where they are: successful. but in large doses, stubbornness tangles all their wires, leaving them both turning away.

author's note⠀⁎⠀surprise, shawty!! wrote an actual summary, everybody cheer! was really trying for the angst, but dragging it out didn't feel like them. considering what i usually pull with angst, consider it a blessing lol. warnings⠀⁎⠀3rd person [she/her], angst, language, class differences (kinda sorta), argument about finances, a tiny bit of therapyspeak.

read more⠀⁎⠀joe burrow masterlist⠀⁎⠀series masterlist.

Every inch of Joe's body ached. His head pounded against his skull, amplifying every sound that shuffled past his ears. The dull throbbing of his knee drew a pained hiss from his lips as he descended down the hallway of Allegiant Stadium, out to the team bus waiting to take them to the airport. His teammates dragged their feet, shoulders heavy with the weight of their loss. Joe's eyes searched the floor, avoiding the glaring lights above. The quiet whispers of disappointment grew as they boarded the bus, each player retreating into their own cocoon of defeat.

He collapsed into a seat near the back of the bus, sighing heavily as he pulled out his phone. The screen lit up, displaying messages from his father, one from his agent, and a few from his friends, all trying to offer comfort in their own ways. But one stuck out from all the rest. It was relatively simple as if she could sense the frustration and shortness in his voice from thousands of miles away.

Sorry about the game. Talk to me when you're ready.

His thumb swiped through his phone, hovering over the digital keyboard as he attempted to gather his thoughts. What was he supposed to say to her? That he'd let everyone down? That he'd played the worst game of his life? He couldn't. Instead, he dialed her number, his heart racing as the call connected.

"Hey," her voice came through at the end of the third ring. Almost instantly, his heartbeat slowed, gently washing over him as if he had breathed in the scent of her. Soft, soothing understanding flooding his ears and pulling a sigh from his chest.

"Sorry you had to watch that," Joe murmured, his eyes closing as his head leaned back against the headrest. "Played like shit."

"You're only human, everybody has off days," she replied. "On the bright side, it was nice to get some eye candy after work. You looked pretty good out there, despite the misery."

Her attempt at humor didn't lift the fog of Joe's mood entirely, but he managed a weak scoff, appreciating her effort. "Glad I could be useful for something," he muttered, casting a glance out the window as the bus pulled away from the stadium. The neon lights of Vegas, though miles away, taunted him with their brilliance, an unsettling contrast to the bitterness that had settled into the pit of his stomach.

"What's the mood like?" she asked, there was a shuffling in the background of the call. No doubt the sheets of her bed whispering against her skin as she turned, probably shifting to get more comfortable. The thought made Joe's chest tighten, a deep ache settling in his chest as he realized how much he missed her.

"It's like a fucking funeral," he grumbled. "You'd think we'd lost the Super Bowl. Feels like we did lose the Super Bowl." He laughed bitterly, the absence of a smile communicated over the line even though she couldn't see him.

"Baby," she sighed, her voice thick with sympathy. "You guys'll bounce back. You always do."

Joe nodded despite her not being able to see him. "Yeah, you're right." He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the bus. "But I just... I just really need to see you right now." He sank deeper into his seat, his hand rubbing the back of his neck which also ached and throbbed from the hits he had taken during the game.

She paused for a moment. If the defeat on his face displayed in high definition on her TV wasn't enough to tell her how much he was hurting, his voice certainly did. "How long is your flight?" she asked, pressing the speaker button on the call as she switched over to Maps. She typed in the address to Joe's house, mildly impressed with the flow of her thumbs, needing not a moment of thought to remember it in full.

"Uh," he squeezed his eyes shut, "about four hours, I think." The bus rumbled to life, shifting away as the light turned green, the vibrations echoing through his body. "Then it's about 30 minutes to my place. Why?"

"Well," she said, her voice light, "I know we had plans to spend my week off together. But since it technically starts tomorrow, I don't mind driving down tonight. Traffic's not too bad, I'll be there before you even land."

"Oh, you don't have to do that, baby," Joe said, the weariness in his voice palpable. "You just got off work. You deserve to rest. I can come pick you up tomorrow afternoon like we planned. I want to spend every second of your week off together, but I don't want you to wear yourself out."

"Don't worry about me, hon," she replied, her voice steady. "I'm already all packed, except for a couple of things. I'll grab them now and hit the road. I'll be there in four hours tops, all snug waiting for you in your bed." Her voice dipped low, a hint of teasing in her tone.

Joe's eyes lit up at the thought of her curled up in his bed, waiting for him; all sleepy love and warmth. It had been two weeks since he had held her, two weeks of endless nights filled with cold, empty sheets and the ghost of her scent lingering on his pillow, on his clothes, in his house. "You don't know how much I need that right now," he murmured, the corners of his mouth tilting up slightly. "As long as you feel okay to drive. Text me when you're 30 minutes out, and I'll let security know."

"Don't worry about me, okay? I'm serious, Joe," she assured him. "I want to do this for you. I'll be fine. Promise."

"Alright," Joe relented, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you, baby. That means a lot."

They talked a bit longer until the bus pulled up to the airport and the team started to gather their belongings. He promised to text her when he boarded and to let her know when he'd be home. With a final, "Love you," Joe ended the call and squeezed his eyes shut, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.

She stood from her bed, slipping her feet into her Ugg slippers and grabbing her phone and its charger from where it was plugged into her alarm clock. True to her word, her duffel bag was already packed, seated by her door, a pair of her gym shoes stacked on top. The room was dark, the only light coming from the hallway, painting a rectangle on the carpeted floor. She didn’t bother turning any lights on, knowing the layout of her apartment like the back of her hand.

Leah sat in the living room, cross-legged on the couch, eyes trained on the Real Housewives of, presumably, somewhere. The living room filled with the sound of expletives and yelling. She held a glass of wine in her right hand, her hair pulled up into a messy bun atop her head. Leah looked over at her, the TV's light reflecting off her glasses. "What's going on?" she asked slowly, the volume on the TV dropping as she hit mute.

"Heading to Joe's," she said over her shoulder as she set her duffel down by the front door. She turned back towards the kitchen, searching for something to eat before her journey. "I was gonna drive down tomorrow, but he sounded horrible over the phone. So, I figured I'd just go now and get the most out of my week off."

Leah looked up at her with a knowing smile, the TV's reflection flickering over her face. "You'll be getting something for sure," she teased. "You sure you're good to drive? That's like, what, a four-hour trip at this time?"

"I'll be fine," she said with a wave of her hand. "I had a pretty easy day at the hospital, and I'm in a decent mood. I have my playlists and some sugar to keep me awake." She grabbed a protein bar from the pantry and a Dr. Pepper from the fridge before returning to the living room. "But thanks for looking out for me." She leaned over the couch to hug Leah. "Give me a kiss for luck?"

Leah rolled her eyes but leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek. "One of these days I will steal you from him," she joked. "But I guess I can stomach this for now."

She laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. "You're so strong, babe." She squeezed Leah's arm playfully before walking towards the door, reaching for her keys. "I'll text you when I get there."

Leah nodded. "Drive safe, babe."

"I will," she said, slipping her phone into her pocket.

The drive was relatively quiet, with enough cars on I-71 to keep her company without causing any stress from unexpected traffic. The Cincinnati skyline came into view just as her dashboard read 11:45 PM. The city's lights twinkled like stars scattered across the dark fabric of the night, bringing her an inch of hope with each passing mile.

By the time she pulled past the gate to Joe's neighborhood, her phone lit up with a text from her boyfriend. "Just landed, be there in 35."

She parked her car in the driveway, waving to the security guard on duty, who offered to help her bring her things in from the car. "I've got it," she said with a smile. "Thank you, though." The guard nodded, his eyes lingering for a moment before returning to his post.

The house was still, much stiller than she had ever seen it. Darkness filled the rooms, the silence causing her every move to echo. She tiptoed to her bedroom, making sure to text both Leah and Joe on her way, confirming her arrival and that she was safe. His room was perfectly orderly, evidence of his housekeeper's recent visit. She tossed her bag onto the bed and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension from the road.

Her muscles eased as she trailed off to his closet, picking out a plain white t-shirt that smelled faintly of him. His shower was warm and welcoming, the water washing away the last of the road's grit and the day's stress. By the time she emerged, the scent of his soap clung to her skin, flooding her senses with his smell. She slipped into bed after completing her skincare, snapping a picture of herself in his clothes, wrapped up in his sheets, and sending it to him.

The minutes ticked by slowly as she waited for Joe. The house was so quiet she could almost hear the air conditioner run. She began to drift off, her eyes heavy as the analog clock on his dresser displayed 12:17 AM. The sound of his car pulling into the garage jolted her awake, her body rising from its spot in the bed. Her feet carried her to the door as she heard his footsteps approaching. The door swung open slowly, and Joe appeared in the doorway, visibly exhausted, his undereye darkened with shadows, his posture drooping with the weight of the loss.

He took a moment to drink her in, standing in his home in his boxers and shirt. A sleepy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, his first genuine smile since the beginning of the never-ending night. "Baby," he murmured, his chest rising and falling with a breath. She looked so at home in his space, so beautiful in his clothes. He stepped closer to her, his eyes searching hers, the need for her comfort dancing through them.

"How was the drive?" he asked, his voice hoarse from the dry plane air. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She smelled like her, but also so faintly of him.

Her hands found his back, gently stroking circles, feeling the tension knotted into his muscles through the fabric of his shirt. "It was fine," she whispered, her voice muffled against him. "I missed you."

Joe's arms tightened around her, his grip fierce. "Missed you, too." He continued holding her, content to stand there in the quiet darkness for as long as she would let him. His heart rate slowed, his breath evened out as her warmth seeped into his bones. He didn't realize how much he needed this until she was there, a shiver coursing through him as her fingers continued their gentle dance along his back.

"I'm so tired," he admitted, his voice a low rumble against her neck. "But I'm so fucking happy you're here."

"I know," she whispered, her own exhaustion forgotten in the face of Joe's warmth. She could feel the tension in his body, the tightness of his embrace telling her everything she needed to know about his state of mind. "Let's get you showered and into bed," she suggested, her voice gentle. "Just wanna feel you next to me."

Joe nodded into her neck, reluctant to let go. "Okay," he murmured, his grip loosening just enough for her to step back. He turned and disappeared into the en suite, the sound of the shower echoing through the room. She took a moment to appreciate the noise, the house finally feeling alive again with Joe's presence. She climbed into bed, scrolling through her phone to hold off her own exhaustion until he was done.

When Joe emerged, his skin was pink and warm from the hot water, his hair brushed back from his face. She watched him move around the room, his movements deliberate and weary. It was clear that he was more than physically exhausted; his eyes were sad, his shoulders slumped with the burden of defeat.

He finally joined her in bed, his lower half the only part of him concealed by a gray pair of boxers. He slid in next to her, his body immediately fitting into hers as if they had done this a thousand times before. She set her phone aside, reaching over to switch off the lamp, plunging the room into a comfortable darkness.

Her neck craned upwards to meet his descending kiss, and their bodies aligned, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her closer. He surrounded her with warmth, and she felt the tension in his body begin to dissolve as his hands roamed over her. There was no urgency to the press of his lips, only a gentle selfishness that grew with every shared breath.

"Missed you," he repeated, the syllables slurring slightly from fatigue. His arms tightened around her, pressing his face into her neck, his nose skimming the skin. Her hands found his hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands. She could feel his warm breath, his heartbeat thumping against her chest.

Her lips pressed to the shell of his ear, peppering kisses along his tanned skin. "Wish I could just hold you like this every day," he whispered, the pacing of his speech slowing down in his drowsiness. His hands snaked under her shirt, caressing the bare skin of her back, his eyes screwed shut.

“I know," she whispered back, her voice just as tired. She could feel the beginnings of his stubble, scratching against her skin. The warmth of his breath danced over her neck. One of his hands dropped to her thigh, pulling her leg over his. "This would be the best part of my day," she murmured, her voice sleepy. "Every day."

He pulled her closer, kissing along her clothed shoulder. His breathing evened out as they continued to lay on their sides, wrapped up in each other's arms. "You smell good," he mumbled, his eyes still closed. "Always smell good, but especially in my clothes."

She hummed softly. "Used your soap," she said, her voice a whisper. "Been too long since I smelled you."

Joe's chuckle was low as he met her eye. "Been too long since I've felt you," he murmured, his hand sliding down to her ass, squeezing weakly before resting there. "Look so good in my clothes, in my bed." His voice was gruff, sleep tugging at the edges of his words.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, her eyes drifting shut. The weight of Joe's hand was comforting, grounding her in a way that she hadn't felt in weeks. "I'll always be here for you."

Joe nodded into her neck, his eyes slipping closed as his grip tightened slightly. "Love you, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion.

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, her fingers carding through his hair. "Love you too, Joey."

Joe's eyes remained shut as he drifted off to sleep, the comfort of her touch and the sweet scent of her skin surrounding him like a warm blanket. She lay there for a few moments longer, watching him, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Then, she too, succumbed to the gentle embrace of slumber, nestled against him.

Mid-morning warmth flooded through the curtains as Joe's alarm blared, jolting them both from their deep sleep. He groaned and reached over for his phone to silence it, then turned towards her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. "I don't wanna get up," he mumbled into her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

"It's Monday, babe, you don't have to," she groaned, her hand finding his as it pulled her back to his chest. "Why is your alarm going off?"

"Didn't remember to shut it off last night," Joe mumbled, his eyes still closed. His hand reached for her hip, sneaking under her shirt to rest on the bare skin of her waist. "You don't have to go anywhere, do you?"

Her eyes remained shut as she snuggled closer, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. "Just need to get out of your bed before I get too comfortable," she said with a small smile. "I should keep a schedule, you know, make sure I stay productive during my week off."

Joe's grip tightened around her, his eyes still closed. "No, you don't," he murmured. "You can stay here all day if you want." He kissed her shoulder. "With me." Dropped another to her neck. "In my bed." He kissed her cheek and whispered, "Where you belong."

She felt a smile tug at her lips. "That sounds tempting," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Tempting?" Joe echoed, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "It's more than tempting." His hand slid up to cup her face, turning her towards him. His eyes searched hers in the dim light, the shadows playing across his features. "It's necessary," he said, his voice thick with something that sent a thrill through her.

"Necessary?" She echoed, her body turning to face Joe fully. His hand remained on her cheek, his thumb tracing lazy patterns across her skin.

"Mmhmm," Joe murmured, his eyes still sleepy but focused on hers. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a gentle kiss that spoke of the ease that she brought with her. His hand slid from her face to her neck, his thumb resting just above her collarbone. He could feel the timid thump of her pulse under his touch.

Her eyes fluttered open as Joe broke the kiss. He was so close, his breath ghosting over her lips. She reached up to trace his jaw with her fingertips, feeling the rough stubble under her touch. "You're so needy," she murmured accusingly, her voice still thick with sleep.

He smirked. "You love it." He kissed her again, this time deeper, his tongue slipping into her mouth. She made a noise of protest that turned into a sigh as she melted into him. He rolled her onto her back, his body hovering over hers, his hand sliding down to the hem of her shirt.

He guided it over her head, his eyes focused on hers as he tossed it aside. His hands skimmed over her bare skin, his touch tender yet possessive. Her eyes searched his, her heart racing in anticipation of his next move. She felt the warmth of his body press into her, his chest to hers, her legs tangling with his.

He hummed, low in his throat, as he laced his fingers through hers, pinning them above her head. His kiss grew more urgent, his tongue dancing with hers as his hips pressed into hers. She felt the heat pool in her core, her body responding to his without hesitation. She arched up into him, her bare breasts brushing against his chest.

Joe's hand slid down to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak of one nipple. She gasped into his mouth, her legs parting for him. He took the invitation, his hand sliding down her side to her thigh, pushing it up and hooking it over his hip.

He ground against her, his hips rolling into hers, the friction making her squirm. "Joe," she panted, her eyes half-lidded. He broke the kiss, his mouth trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. She felt a thrill of pleasure as his tongue followed, soothing the path his teeth had made.

"Can't stop saying thank you for being here," Joe mumbled against her neck, his breath warm and tickling. She giggled, feeling the vibration against her skin. She tilted her head to give him better access, his kisses turning into nibbles that forced laughter from her.

"You told me you needed me, so I'm here," she purred, her voice a whisper that was barely heard over the sound of his teeth scraping her skin. "But maybe I can be there for you... in the kitchen. Eating something?"

As if on cue, her stomach growled loudly, and Joe groaned just as loudly. His head fell forward, his forehead pressed against her sternum. "Fuck, I was just getting started," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers as his head lifted to kiss her again.

She couldn't help but chuckle. "We've got all week," she reminded him, pushing him off gently. "I'm starving."

Joe sighed dramatically but rolled off her, his hand sliding down to squeeze her thigh before letting go. "Fine," he grumbled, his eyes still closed. "But we're coming back to this."

She laughed, sitting up and stretching. The bed was warm and inviting, but she knew they both needed to eat. She slid out of bed, and Joe's eyes followed her as she grabbed his shirt from the floor, slipping it on. She walked over to her duffel bag, finding a pair of wide-leg sweatpants to pair with his shirt.

"I'll start breakfast," she said, leaning down to kiss him. He caught her hand, pulling her back down for one more deep, lingering kiss before releasing her.

"Don't burn anything," he teased, his eyes still half-lidded as he watched her leave the room. She shot him a playful glare over her shoulder before disappearing into the hallway, the sound of her bare feet on the hardwood floor fading as she moved towards the kitchen.

Joe took the moment to stretch out in the bed, his muscles protesting after the tense game and the long flight from the night—or morning, really—before. He couldn't help but smile, though, as he thought about her wearing his clothes, feeling his warmth even in his absence. With a groan, he pushed himself out of bed and into the bathroom, hissing softly at the sight of his bruises from the game. Wincing, he applied some of the shea butter-infused lotion she had brought with her, the coolness soothing his skin.

By the time he made it to the kitchen, the smell of turkey bacon and eggs filled the air, making his stomach rumble with anticipation. She was moving around with ease, her hips swaying to some unheard tune. She looked over her shoulder at him, her smile bright. "How do you want your eggs, baby?"

"Any way you'll give 'em to me," he uttered, his hands finding her hips from behind as he nuzzled his face into her neck. She giggled, shaking her head as she continued working on the eggs. He kissed along her neck, his hands sliding around to her stomach and then up to cup her tits over the shirt. "You're so fuckin' perfect," he murmured into her ear, his voice thick with desire. "Gimme anything you want and I'll take it."

"Not my eggs, you freak," she huffed, playfully shoving him away with her elbow. "Scrambled, over hard, omelet?"

"Surprise me," Joe said, stepping back into his place behind her, his chest pressing against her back. He could feel her laugh reverberate through her upper body, his arms wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her closer. She playfully slapped at his hands, trying to focus on not burning the food.

The kitchen was filled with the sizzle of bacon and the crackle of eggs hitting the hot pan. Her movements were swift and practiced, opposing Joe's sluggishness. He leaned against the counter, watching her, feeling the weight of the last few days fall away. He watched the way she moved in his space, so confident and comfortable. If he could have painted a picture of what contentment felt like, it would be this; it would be her.

"You know," she said, her voice teasing as she flipped an egg expertly, "you could always help. Make some toast or something. Cut up some avocados?"

Joe groaned. "But then I'd have to move." He pressed himself into her with a touch more determination. "And I'm really enjoying this view."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. When his left hand snuck up to her tits again, she shooed him away again with a laugh. "Go do something," she said, pointing towards the refrigerator. "Make yourself useful."

With a dramatic sigh, Joe retreated to the fridge, grabbing the avocados and a knife. He took his time peeling and slicing them, savoring the feeling of normalcy he longed for during the spaces of time when their worlds diverged. "How many eggs do you want?" she called over her shoulder, not turning away from the stove.

"Two's fine if you're tossing in some veggies on the side," Joe called back, his focus on the task at hand. "I'll grab some of the Greek yogurt and berries too."

She nodded. She cracked his eggs into a small bowl and whisking them with a fork until they were fluffy. She poured them into the pan with the already cooked bacon and vegetables, mixing everything together. Joe grabbed two slices of bread, buttering both sides before sliding them into the toaster.

"Wait, what day is it?" she suddenly asked aloud, the question interrupting the comfortable silence that had settled over the kitchen.

Joe paused his toast prep, looking at her with a quizzical expression. "It's Monday," he said, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Why?"

"No, the actual date, I mean," she clarified, glancing at the calendar hanging on the fridge. "It's the 9th, isn't it?" She questioned with a gasp.

Joe nodded, reaching up to find plates and silverware. "Yeah, it's the 9th. Why?" He drew the syllables out, making clear his inability to follow her line of thinking.

Her eyes widened slightly as she continued working on the omelet. "My rent and my student loans are due today," she murmured, a hint of panic seeping into her voice. "I didn't transfer the money from my savings account."

Joe's smile fell, his eyes meeting hers with understanding. "You can do it from here," he said, placing a hand on her waist. "Use my laptop. It's on the table in the living room."

She nodded, her shoulders dropping slightly with relief. "Thank you, baby," she kissed his cheek before slipping out of his grasp and making her way to the living room. She returned a minute later, sitting down at the kitchen island with his laptop. Her eyes scanned the screen as she quickly logged into her bank account. She felt Joe's presence behind her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders as he leaned over to peer at the screen.

"Shit," she hissed under her breath, her eyes narrowing at the screen. At a glance, there was enough for her rent, but not nearly enough for her student loans. She felt Joe's hand tighten on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. "I must have used that money for something else," she murmured, feeling a twinge of frustration.

Joe leaned down, his cheek warm against hers, his hands moving to intertwine with hers. "Let me take care of it, sweetheart," he said softly. "It's no big deal."

She stiffened, her eyes snapping up to his. "No," she said firmly, clicking through her banking portal. "I'll figure something out." She shrugged off his touch, resuming her clicking around.

"Babe, it's just money," Joe reasoned, his voice gentle. "Don't stress over it. I got it."

Her eyes narrowed at the screen. "It's my responsibility," she said through gritted teeth, her hands clenching with tension before she relaxed them with an exhale. "Just give me a second to think."

Joe stepped back, his expression unreadable. He knew how important it was for her to be independent, to manage her own finances. But seeing her like this, the weight of her world on her shoulders, it was hard for him to stand idly by. He turned back to the toaster, his jaw clenching as he waited for the bread to pop. "Okay," he said slowly, noncommittally turning to finish off assembling their breakfast.

She continued murmuring under her breath, her right hand tapping at the calculator app on her phone as she mentally rearranged her finances. Her stomach tightened as the number on her screen grew larger, much larger than what she could reasonably part with at the moment. "Oh my god," she whispered, burying her face in both her hands.

Joe set a plate of perfectly toasted bread, eggs, and crisped bacon before her. "You okay?" He asked, his voice tentative.

She hesitated, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "I don't know," she sighed, picking up a piece of bacon. "It's just...I've been trying so hard to keep up with everything. I thought I was doing so well."

Joe sat beside her, his own plate forgotten. "Of course you are," he assured her, his hand finding hers. "So you don't have the loan money right now. It's okay, you'll figure it out."

"It's not just the loan money," she said, her voice rising with frustration. "My credit card's due in two weeks, and I won't get paid yet. I'm out of savings. I still need to pay for gas and food for the next three weeks. My niece's birthday is coming up, and I want to get her something nice..."

Joe found her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles in comfort. "Let me help," he urged again, his voice softer this time. "Just tell me how much you need, and I'll transfer it to you."

Her eyes began to cloud over as she looked at him. "I can't," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "It's my debt. I need to pay it."

"Baby, please," Joe's voice was low and earnest. "I just want to take some of that burden off you. I know how much you've been working, and I can help. Let me do this for you."

She took a deep breath, looking down at their entwined hands. She knew Joe was trying to be supportive, but she felt a surge of exasperation. "Joe," she began, her voice steady but firm. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't. I have to do this by myself."

"If you're worried about paying me back, don't," Joe insisted, his voice filled with concern. "I just wanna take care of you. So let me. Just tell me how much."

She pulled her hand away, standing up from her stool. "Joe, I said no. And that's the end of it." She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice, but it was clear she was reaching her breaking point. "Just give me a second to think. I'll be right back," she added, escaping into the hallway and up to the master suite before he could respond.

Joe sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he stared at the plate of food in front of him. He knew she was stubborn, but he couldn't help but feel a little hurt by her rejection. He pulled his plate closer to him, the smell of the eggs and bacon suddenly not as appealing as it was moments ago. He took a bite, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach.

As he sat there in the silence, he could help but take a peek at her phone. The calculator app was still open, and a number was displayed on the screen. He took a bite of his toast, the crunch echoing in the quiet room. His leg bounced as he fought the urge to turn her phone toward him, to confirm the digits of the number on her screen. The urge grew the longer she was gone, spreading through his limbs and making his heart race. He took another bite, chewing it slowly as he listened for the sound of her returning from his room.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He leaned over, his eyes taking in the number displayed. It was a low four-digit number, enough to make him pause but not nearly enough for him to feel even a quarter of the stress she seemed to be under. He knew she was fiercely independent, but this was ridiculous.

His own phone sat on the island to his right, and without a second thought, Joe picked it up, navigating to his banking app. He had more than enough to cover her entire loan amount if he really wanted to, let alone the amount that was causing her such distress. But he knew that wasn't the point. He set his jaw, frustration and affection warring inside him. He knew her pride was important, but so was her peace of mind. The decision seemed simple to him—he had the means, and she had the need. In just a few taps he could ease her burden. Sure, she might be upset with him, but that was a risk he was willing to take if it meant she could focus on the important things, like her residency and making the most out of this week together.

He made up his mind then, tapping out a quick transfer from his account to hers. It was done before she could come back. It would take a moment to clear, but when he clicked the trackpad to reload her online banking page, the amount was there. Pending, but there. He took another bite of his eggs, his stomach no longer in knots.

"Okay," she announced, her voice echoing from the hallway. She returned to the kitchen, her expression composed. "Let's just eat," she suggested, sitting back down. "I'll figure this shit out after."

Joe studied her face, seeing the tightness around her eyes, the set of her jaw. He knew she was lying to herself, trying to pretend it wasn't a big deal when it clearly was. But he also knew her well enough to know that pushing now would only make it worse. "Come here," he said gently, setting his fork down. He opened his arms to her, and she leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she whispered, the warmth of Joe's embrace seeping into her bones. She felt his hand gently stroking her back, his thumb tracing soothing patterns along her spine. For a moment, she allowed herself to melt into his comfort, to let go of the anxiety that had been building within her. But as she leaned away, she couldn't help the feeling of something being off. She glanced at her phone, realizing it was off from where she had left it.

Her head turned to look at her laptop, her eyes fell on the banking app, and she froze. The balance of her checking account was different—substantially so. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the screen, her mind racing. "What did you do?" she demanded, pulling away from Joe's embrace to look at him.

Joe swallowed hard, setting his fork down. He knew this was going to be a fight. "I just transferred some money," he said calmly, trying to keep the frustration from his voice. "You don't have to pay me back, babe. I'm your boyfriend; I'm supposed to support you."

She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Joe, I already told you no," she said, her voice shaking. "Why would you do this?"

Joe leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. "Because I love you," he said, his voice steady. "And I can't stand to see you stressed like this. You work so hard. You dropped everything to be here with me on your week off. Drove down late after work just because I was feeling down. I just wanted to do one thing to make your life a little easier."

Her eyes searched his, trying to read the intention behind his words. Her hand hovered over the laptop, the urge to check her bank account again strong, but she resisted. "It's not just about the money," she said, her voice tight. "It's about me being able to stand on my own two feet. You're undermining me."

Joe's expression softened. "I know that's what you want to do," he said, his voice low. "And I respect that. But we all need help sometimes. And that's what I'm here for."

Her eyes remained on the laptop screen, the number staring back at her. "This isn't just about you, Joe," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "I don't want your money, just like I don't want anyone else's money."

Joe pursed his lips together, failing to suppress an eye roll. "You're being ridiculous," he said, his voice tight. "It's not a handout, babe. If you want to think of it like a loan, fine. You can pay me back, and I'll get you something nice with the money. It's yours, you deserve it."

"So every time that I've told you that I didn't need your money, you just... ignored me?" Her voice was laced with anger, her arms crossing over her chest. "Did you think I didn't mean it?"

"Baby," Joe growled lowly, "you're overreacting." His patience was wearing thin. "If your parents or anyone else offered, you'd take it without a second thought, wouldn't you? Why is it different coming from me?"

"No! I wouldn't. It's not different at all!" She snapped, pushing herself away from Joe. The heat of the kitchen seemed to rise around her, and she could feel the anger bubbling up inside her chest. "Didn't I tell you that I've done all of this on my own? I finished undergrad debt-free, I worked during medical school, and took out loans for what I couldn't cover. I've never once asked anyone for a handout, not even my own family!"

Joe stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "And I'm not asking you to start now," he said, his voice rising to match hers. "Just take the money, this one time. It's not like you have to struggle now to make up for the fact that you grew up with more than I did! You don't have to prove anything to anyone, especially not to me."

Her eyes flashed, the words stinging like a slap. "What?" she whispered, the anger in her voice barely contained. "What the hell does that mean?"

Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just...I feel like sometimes you push me away because we grew up differently and, for whatever reason, that makes you feel like you can't take anything from me," he said, his voice strained. "But I'm good now. I have more money than I know what to do with. I take care of my people, and that includes you."

Her eyes narrowed as she took in his words. "I don't need to prove anything to you, Joe," she said, her voice steady. "And I don't push you away because 'we grew up differently'," her fingers air-quoted the phrase. "Maybe my family had a little more money than yours did, or I grew up in a different state, went to different schools, but that doesn't mean we grew up worlds apart. And it certainly doesn't mean that I'm going to let you throw money at my problems just because you think that's what I'm used to."

"That's not what I'm saying," Joe said, his voice rising in frustration. "I'm just trying to help!"

"I don't need your help, Joe! Not like this," Her voice was firm, her irate with irritation. She turned away from him, her hands trembling slightly as tears spilled over her lash line. She walked over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, taking a long sip to cool her anger. The cold liquid slid down her throat, but it did little to ease the burning in her chest.

"I just want you to catch a break," Joe said, his voice tight. "I know you're strong, baby, but everyone needs a break sometimes. You're not weak for letting someone else carry the weight every once in a while."

She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "I know you mean well," she began, her tone measured. "But it's not about the money. It's about the principle. I want to be able to support myself. I don't want to rely on anyone else for my happiness or my security." She turned to face him, her eyes glistening. "If I let you pay for everything, then what happens if things get tough between us? What happens if you get hurt? What if we break up, and I've gotten used to you fixing everything with your money?"

Joe's jaw clenched as he looked at her, his frustration palpable. "You think that's what this is about?" he asked, his voice gruff. "That I'm gonna hold this over your head? That I'd use your financial situation against you?"

She set the water bottle down with a thunk, her eyes meeting Joe's. "Not now," she said, her voice softer. "But maybe in the future. I've seen it happen with other people, Joe. They start taking and taking, then suddenly they start expecting it. They forget that the person they're with had a life before them and they can have one after them too."

"You're not making any fuckin' sense, babe," he grunted, his voice echoing in the kitchen. "Why are you making this about something it isn't? It's just money."

She groaned, "Do you listen to anything I say?" Her eyes searched Joe's, looking for any sign of understanding. "Did any part of this conversation get through to you?"

"I'm listening," Joe said through gritted teeth, his blue eyes stormy. "But that doesn't mean I have to agree with you."

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping her emotions in check. "You can't just ignore what I'm saying because it doesn't fit with what you think," she said, her voice strained. She turned on her heel, fisting the water bottle as she muttered, "This is why I didn't want to tell you."

Joe stepped closer to her, his hands coming up to frame her face. "Baby, look at me," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'm not ignoring you. I just don't understand why you won't accept help from me."

"You would know if you would listen to me for once," she said, pulling away from Joe's grasp. Her eyes searched his for any sign of clarity, but only found a stubborn resolve. She could feel her anger rising, the walls she had built around her emotions threatening to crumble. "I need a moment," she managed, her voice tight.

Joe sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. "Fine," he said, his tone clipped. He watched as she strode out of the kitchen, her footsteps echoing defeat on the hardwood floor.

She retreated to the bedroom, pacing in the space they had just shared so intimately. The silence was deafening, filled only with the echo of their harsh words and the thud of her heart in her chest. She huffed out a breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside her. Even without him in her direct sight, Joe was everywhere. On her skin, in her mind, and now, in her bank account.

Her hands tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over her head and discarding the cotton blend fabric onto the floor. Her bare chest heaved with each breath, her brown skin warming in the early morning light that spilled through the bedroom windows. Her hands shook as she reached into her bag, finding a simple hoodie that had made the journey from Cleveland.

Joe remained in the kitchen, the silence thick and oppressive. He knew she needed space, but the urge to follow her, to fix this, was a weight in his chest. It went against his instincts to let her stew alone. He stared at the spot where she had been standing, gnawing on his lower lip, his brain racing with apologies and explanations and a million solutions.

He didn't stand there for much longer before he heard her approaching again. The jingle of her keys was a warning that she was about to leave. Joe steeled himself as she marched back into the kitchen. "I'm going for a drive," she announced, her voice firm. "I need some air."

Joe nodded, his heart heavy. "Okay," he said, his voice low. "But just...don't go too far, okay?"

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, Joe thought he saw a flicker of softness. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and she grabbed her phone from the counter, her shoulders tense. "I'll be fine," she said, her voice cool.

He watched her retreating back, the door clicking shut behind her, and the house fell silent. The echoes of their argument lingered in the air, a bitter taste left in his mouth. Joe walked into the living room, collapsing onto the couch, his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face with his hands. He was torn between anger and guilt, frustration and fear.

They had never argued like this before. Sure, they were both stubborn, but there was always an edge of humor to their disagreements, a playfulness that reminded them of their affection for one another. This was different. This was a crack in the foundation of their relationship, and Joe wasn't sure how to patch it up without making it worse. As he sat on the couch, listening to the quiet hum of the house, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had screwed up big time. He knew she was proud, knew that she valued her independence. He also didn't expect her to jump for joy when he offered his help. But the look on her face when she saw the transfer—that was new. It was a mix of anger, hurt, and disappointment that hit harder than any tackle he'd ever taken on the field.

He rose from the couch eventually, dragging his feet to clean up the mess in the kitchen. The pans clanked as he washed them, his mind racing.

What had he done wrong?

He just wanted to help her, to make her life easier.

Why couldn't she just accept it?

His hands clenched around the dish sponge, squeezing until water dripped out.

Did she really think he would use this against her?

He placed the rinsed dishes in the washer.

Why was she entertaining the possibility that they could break up?

As the washer hummed to life, Joe walked to his room. The crumpled shirt on the floor was a stark reminder of their argument. He picked it up, the fabric still carrying the scent of her perfume, and placed it on the chair. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared at the floor. He hated this, hated that he couldn't fix it with a dry quip or a distracting kiss. But he knew her; she needed time to process, to cool down. He had to give her that space, even if it killed him.

His thighs ached, the pain spreading into his lower back as the rhythmic thump of his heart matched the sound of his feet meeting the flat surface of the running belt. The treadmill whirred beneath him, and sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging his eyes as he blinked. He had been here for twenty-seven minutes, and counting, his mind racing as much as his legs. The numbers on the digital display blurred together, his breaths heavy and ragged. He wasn't supposed to be working out, much less pushing himself like this on his recovery day, but the pent-up energy and frustration had to go somewhere. The house was too quiet, too empty without her.

Joe knew he had messed up. He knew she didn't need his money; she had made that clear on multiple occasions. What he hadn't anticipated was how much his offer would hurt her. He had seen the walls come up, the barriers she had worked so hard to keep at bay, and he had thrown them up without a second thought. He had been so focused on fixing the problem that he hadn't thought about how she might feel. It was a dumb mistake, one he shouldn't have made with someone he loved as much as he breathed, adored, and loved her.

His ringtone cut through his thoughts, loud, nearly knocking him off the treadmill. He grabbed his phone, expecting it to be his girlfriend, but instead, it was her best friend, Leah. He ignored it, let it ring through to voicemail. He was blessed with a few seconds of silence before it buzzed again. Evidently, she wasn't calling him to chat about the weather.

Leah's text message was short and to the point.

CALL ME BACK.

The urgency in the message was palpable, and Joe's stomach twisted. He didn't need any more drama, not today. With a sigh, he stopped the treadmill and wiped his face with the towel hanging around his neck. He stepped off the machine, his legs feeling like jelly as he made his way to the bedroom to call her back.

Leah picked up on the first ring. "What the hell did you do to her?" Her voice was sharp, accusatory.

Joe's shoulders slumped. "Good morning, Leah," he said wearily, trying to keep his voice steady.

"It is 1:35 in the afternoon. You're not cute, Burrow," she snapped. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but she called me sobbing and couldn't explain what happened, so you're going to tell me right now. What did you do?"

Joe sighed heavily, his hand raking through his hair. "We had an argument," he admitted. "I didn't mean to upset her."

"What did you do, Joe?" Leah repeated.

Joe took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "It's about money," he began, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. "I transferred some to her account without asking because I noticed she was stressed about rent and loans and her card. I just wanted to help."

"Why would you do that?" she said. He could almost see her face, the roll of her eyes, the furrow of her brow. He could hear her call him a name under her breath. "You know how she is about that shit, Joe. You've seen her work herself to the bone to pay for everything herself. I don't understand why she hates financial help, but that's just how she is, and it's what makes her her. It’s something that’s important to her. Did you stop to think for three seconds about how that might make her feel?"

Joe felt the weight of his mistake sink in. "Yeah," he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. "Not long enough, apparently."

"Yeah, no shit, dumbass," Leah's voice was tight with annoyance. "How much was it?"

Joe swallowed hard. "Like, a couple grand," he murmured, the number sounding obscene in the quiet of the room.

Leah's sharp intake of breath was his only response for a moment. "Christ. Joe, she's a doctor, not a charity case," she said, her voice measured. "You can't just throw money at her problems because you think it's a quick fix. If you were feeling that generous, you could've just sent it over to me." The last part was said with a hint of a tease, trying to lighten the mood, but Joe knew she was at least somewhat serious.

"I just wanted to make things easier for her," Joe said, his voice laced with frustration.

"And in doing so, you made it ten times harder," Leah shot back. "Look, Joe, I know you're a good guy, and you're obviously crazy about her, but you can't just bulldoze over her boundaries like they're nothing, regardless of your intentions. Doing so only makes her feel like you don’t value the things that she does."

Joe nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I know," he said, his voice tight. "But what do I do now?"

"You start by actually listening to her," Leah said firmly. "When she says she doesn't want your money, she means it. Her financial situation is only temporary. She'll be out of residency in a year, and things will get significantly easier for her. But until then, you can't just ignore her feelings because you want your knight in shining armor moment. That's not how it works with her; she doesn’t want that from you."

Joe felt the sting of Leah's words, but knew she was right. "Okay," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "What do I say to her?"

"Start with an apology," Leah said, her tone softer now. "A real one, from the heart. Tell her you understand why she's upset and that you won't do it again. And let her know you respect her boundaries. Remind her how much you love her."

Joe nodded, his chest tight with the gravity of the conversation. He released a long exhale through his nose, allowing Leah's words a moment to hang in the air. "Look, Joe," she spoke up again. "I know I'm supposed to be the best friend who keeps you in check, but I'm not mad at you. I understand how frustrating this topic can be with her. But I set you two up for a reason. Don't blow this up and force me to cut you off. I have love for both of you, and I don't wanna be stuck in the middle."

He swallowed hard. "I won't," he said firmly. "I promise."

"Good." Leah's voice was firm. "I told her to turn her ass around and go home to you. She should be on her way."

Relief flood his senses, brushing cool air over his warm face. "Thank you, Leah," Joe said, sincerity coating each syllable. "For everything."

Leah sighed into the phone. "You're welcome," she said. "Oh, and also, don't let her send you that money back. Put your foot down about that, she deserves a break. Just don't try that shit again, 'kay?"

Joe chuckled sarcastically. "Lesson learned," he said. "Thank you, Leah."

Leah's voice softened. "Good luck," she said before hanging up.

He sat on the edge of the bed, holding his phone, staring at the screen. A few moments later, his phone buzzed with a text from her.

I'm on my way back.

The simplicity of the message didn't betray the tumult of emotions he knew she must be feeling. He texted back:

Drive safe.

The words felt inadequate, but he sent them anyway, hoping they'd serve as a lifeline across the digital divide.

As Joe waited for her, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them. He knew he'd have to be more mindful of her feelings, her need for independence. He'd have to find other ways to show her how much she meant to him, beyond the material. But he also knew that she had her own walls to break down, her own compromises to make.

The sound of the garage door opening was music to his ears. He shot up from the bed and made his way to the door, his heart racing like he was running down the field with seconds left on the clock. She walked in, her eyes red and puffy, her shoulders slumped. She didn't look at him, just allowed him to wrap her in his arms. He could feel her tremble, the anger and hurt melting into his embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, delicate as the brush of a feather. She shook against him, tears wetting his shirt. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, baby."

She didn't push away, but she didn't fully melt into him either. "Why did you do it?" she asked, her voice small and broken. "I was so angry, Joe. So, so angry."

He held her closer, his heart aching with each word. "I just wanted to help," he said, his voice gruff with his own unshed tears. "I should've left it alone, I know." He kissed the top of her head, inhaling her sweet scent. "But I can't stand seeing you stressed, you know that."

She nodded, her breaths hitching as she tried to hold back the sobs. "I hate fighting with you," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.

Joe's arms tightened around her, his thumbs making gentle circles on her back. "Me too," he murmured. "Do you wanna talk about it? What can I do to make it right?"

She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his. "I don't know," she admitted. "I just... I don't want to feel like I owe you anything."

Joe nodded, his eyes serious. "I get it," he said. "I do. And I'm sorry for making you feel that way." He took a step back, giving her the space she needed. "But you don't owe me anything, sweetheart. Ever."

Her eyes looked for the truth in his words. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort of calming down. "I know you didn't mean it like that," she said finally. "But if I'm being honest, it scared me."

Joe's eyebrows furrowed. "Scared you?"

She nodded. "It's just... it's a lot, Joe. The finances, the future, all of it. I don't want to be that girl who's with you for the wrong reasons. I want to be able to stand on my own two feet, and I don't want you to ever feel like you have to save me. I know that I don't earn what I should as a resident. But this is temporary, and I have to learn these lessons before I start making real money."

Joe's eyes searched hers, understanding dawning on his face. He reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "And I'm proud of you for it, honey," he said gently. "You're handling all this stress with more grace than I ever could. You deserve every good thing I can give you. We just need to find a balance."

Her chest tightened at the nickname she had grown so fond of. It felt like a promise, a vow he was making to her right there. She stepped back, wiping her eyes. "Okay," she said, her voice shaky. "I would like you to respect my boundaries, Joe. I can't do this if you don't."

He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "I will," he assured her. "I'll always respect you. I love you too much not to. But I want you to know that this is part of being with me. I'm gonna want to share all this with you, on your terms, of course, but I can't change who I am or how much I make."

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she composed herself. "I know," she said, her voice softer now. "And I love you for who you are. But I can't have you making my decisions for me, Joe. That's what it felt like."

He nodded, the gravity of his mistake settling on him like a heavy weight. "I get it," he said, his voice earnest. "I'll be more careful, I promise."

She studied him for a moment, her eyes drifting over his features, as if trying to read the sincerity of his words. Joe's heart was in his throat, hoping she could see the depth of his regret. Finally, she nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Deal, thank you," she said, taking a step towards him, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Leah told me to keep the money this time, but no more, I'm serious."

Joe chuckled, relieved. "Yes, ma'am," he said, kissing her back. "You know she called to chew me out?"

She laughed, a soft, genuine sound that filled the space between them. "Well, it worked, didn't it? I'm surprised she didn't just drive up here herself."

Joe chuckled, his arms still around her. "She can drive up here all she wants, I'm not letting her through. That's practically handing my ass up on a silver platter. No thanks," he said.

Her laugh grew stronger, the tension between them starting to unwind like a tightly wound coil. They stood in the entryway, Joe's heart thumping in his chest, her eyes searching his for any signs of doubt. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her mouth, hoping each touch would be a step closer to mending what had been broken.

#&. cassie writes.#&. joe x doctor!reader: fics.#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow x black!reader #joe burrow angst

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blackthunder137 · 1 year ago

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⋆.˚✮˚.⋆imagine mattheo being touchy and fingering you while in class-smut

"baby, i need you so so bad," he whispers in your ear while you were taking down notes in snape's class. you tried to shush him and tell him to go back to work, but he just did not listen. instead, his veiny, strong hand landed on your thigh, his thumb caressing and drawing circles mindlessly, making your skin feel a jolt of electricity. you tried to push his hands away because they were distracting you from focusing on the class. but his hand was firm and wasn't ready to buldge, he then slid his hands up to the hem of your skirt. you glared at him to which he smirked and whispered in your ear, "wanna make you feel good." you bit your lip. "shut up, mattheo. concentrate on the class and do your work." you managed to barely mutter those words out. "i'd rather do you, baby," he replied horsely which made you close your eyes to avoid losing control. he kept on sliding his hand up your thigh and moved your panties to the side, he groaned when he dipped two of his fingers inside your pussy. "fuck baby, you're dripping wet." he stated, his fingers starting to fuck you with such great precision. his skilfull fingers doing wonders to your pussy. his thumb caressing your clit. you tried to hold down your moan by biting your lips but that did not work. you left out a groan because you couldn’t control it in anymore, you hoped that no one heard you. his fingers picked up pace and at this point you long forgot to jot down your notes. his fingers were touching the right spot, over and over again. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your hand reached out to grab mattheo's wrist. your fingernails dug deep into his skin as your tried to tamp down the moans. your breathing grew shallower and your eyelids started to get heavy which made your classroom a blur. his fingers worked through the final knot in your core after which you exploded. the intensity which which you came, had your legs shaking violently. his massaged your clit one final time after which he drew his fingers out, and licked them. while he was licking his fingers clean, off your cum he whispered "you taste heavely". you could see the nail marks on his wrist which made this scene even more sexier. it made you feel a sense of pride because now the world knows that you are his as you marked him. your breathing steadied, although, you knew your face was still flushed and slick with a little sweat. mattheo kissed the side of your forehead and muttered "good girl," after which he paid attention to the class like he didn't just finger fuck under the table while a class was going on.

navigation

#:☆ﾟmay writes #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle x y/n #hp smut #harry potter #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle x fem!reader

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despressoslatte · 7 months ago

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not the zoey you wanted (four)

pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!

summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.

content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope

a/n: a big big BIG thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this fic! I love seeing everyone’s comments and inbox messages dissecting the story and making predictions! I wrote for OBX back in 2020 when the show first came out under a different blog (in case anyone here remembers a blog called jjmaybankx, HI! Though that’s just a generic username, it might be hard to remember that specific iteration ahaha), but i had just created this blog the same day i put out this fic… and i am in awe of how well received and how much you guys are actually invested in this little world i have conjured up whilst dreaming of bf!drew. I am very honored <3

Masterlist | < part three | add yourself to the taglist

ᯓ⟢

How you were supposed to just get up and go to your afternoon classes after what had just happened was beyond you, but you had an important peer workshop in one of your writing courses and then straight to the tutoring center for you.

Day one was hard, as you navigated the complexities of whatever the hell had just happened. You were angry: angry at the car for hitting Zach, angry that he had even for a second thought that Zoey Miller had been you, angry that she let him think that knowing it was wrong, angry that she did any of what she did at all. And most of all, angry that you were even angry with Zach for it.

Tuesday rolled around and you had to go to the class you had with Zoey Miller, with anger seething in your veins but the inability to cause a scene. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your roommate Bree, what had happened. You felt like if you made a big deal and spoke about it, then you would likely never get over it.

You felt her eyes on you as you typed your notes during the lecture, having sat a few rows and seats to the left in front of you. Could she like… not? Face forward and pay attention to the class, stop staring at the girl whose boyfriend you tried to steal after trying to steal his cousin, thanks.

Your next shift at the tutoring center was on Wednesday. Instead of having assigned tutees for the day, you had a five hour shift in the tutoring center where you mainly did your own homework, helped student athletes figure out why the printers wanted to act up and not print their assignments, and help the few random people who would come up to the reception desk to ask you for help on a writing assignment or to proofread their essays.

You paused as you set your coffee up and laptop down on the desk, looking across the tutoring center to see Zach hunched over his own computer in one of the middle tables, typing away. He was one of the few athletes who wasn’t assigned to mandatory study hall hours after he had gotten his grade up, thanks to your one-on-one tutoring sessions and then, once his girlfriend, study dates together in his dorm or yours. He normally wouldn’t be caught dead in the tutoring center if he wasn’t required to be there, preferring to do his homework on his own anyways.

But there he was, regardless.

A week passed and Zach didn’t try to talk to you at all, just like you had asked. You also never saw him walking around with Zoey Miller, a recurring minor nightmare you kept on having. Thank God, you thought every time you’d see one of them around campus without the other. Zoey Miller came to class looking miserable every time, and each time you worked a shift at the tutoring center, whether it be study hall monitoring or a few hours of one-on-one tutoring, Zach was there, during his homework by himself at one of the tables.

“Hey.”

You looked up from the book you were engrossed in, taking off one airpods to see Zach in front of you, his laptop in his arms.

“Zach…” you sighed softly.

“I’m not here to bother you, I swear,” he reassured you, sliding his laptop to face you. “I just… actually need your help with this one, promise.”

You looked down at his screen to see an essay typed out. You glance up at him again.

“It’s a big part of my grade, so I was wondering if you could proofread it,” he said sheepishly, putting his hands in his pockets.

You exhale and nod, motioning with your head to the seat next to yours. A smile beamed across his face, and he rounded the desk to sit down next to you, both of you half facing each other as he watched you go over his essay in suggesting mode, making comments and edit recommendations.

“I like the color you painted your nails,” he said softly.

“Zach,” you warned.

He shut up.

You got to page five of the essay, having only had to make a few small grammatical suggestions, a small smile building on your face for how well written the essay had been. When he wanted to apply himself, and knew how to, Zach would always be extremely smart. Sometimes, when it came to subjects he didn’t quite care for, he just didn’t care to put in the effort. But he was very smart, he had to be a student athlete.

Plus, you knew he had little moments of crises when he thought about his future. He didn’t think he’d make it pro, but he also wasn’t passionate for other things the way he was for soccer. He felt aimless sometimes. The ironic part of it all was that he chose English Literature as his major, the classes he struggled with the most and hence how you two met.

You had given him the idea before that if he really didn’t think he could go pro, he could keep playing soccer or being involved with it through coaching at high schools or even middle schools. But you also always told him that you thought he had it in him to go pro. He was the school’s soccer star, you weren’t sure why he always sold himself short.

“You okay?” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You had been stuck on page five for longer than it would have taken to read the page over twice, Zach just sitting there in anticipation of what you thought he needed to fix before he looked over at your face and noticed you were zoned out.

“Yeah, yeah,” you shook yourself out of it, continuing to scroll down through his essay.

Another excruciating fifteen minutes until you were finished reading over every line intricately and leaving any commentary needed, you slid the laptop back closer to Zach.

“Just those edits, and it’s all good,” you told him, trying to avoid looking at him.

He tapped the desk, nodding. “Thanks,” he said, and you pursed your lips and nodded.

You bit your lip to try and prevent yourself from asking the question that has been hot on your mind, but the words vomit out before you can stop it, “How come you’ve been doing your homework here?”

You finally look into his striking blue eyes, seeing them widen before his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“It’s the student athlete tutoring center,” he pointed out, then pointed at himself. “Student athlete.”

You titled your head to the side, giving him “the look” as you said, “Zach…”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed with a small laugh, closing his laptop closed. “It’s the only time I ever get to see you, okay?”

You had an inkling feeling that was it, and you just nod in response.

“I can stop if seeing me bothers you,” he whispered.

“Seeing you would never bother me,” you said back.

The hopeful smile that erupted on his face made your heart sting.

The moment you two were having was interrupted when another student athlete walked up, asking for help since the printers weren’t working. You offered Zach a small smile, and he gave you a wave, before you got up to go to the opposite side of the tutoring center to figure out the printer.

ᯓ⟢

On your way to class the next day, you paused in front of the class you had with Zoey to see she was standing a little bit to the side of the pathway talking to Zach. You slowed your steps down a bit as you stared at them. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell from the back of his head, jacket, and backpack that it was him.

That same guilty look was on Zoey’s face, and she was shaking her head.

You could tell from Zach’s body language that he was upset, the way his shoulders lifted and his arms moved about as he talked, the way he did when he was trying to drive a point.

You didn’t feel like watching them talk, putting your head down and heading into the building to go to class.

ᯓ⟢

“So, she broke up with you?” Zoey asked as she stood there staring up at Zach. She had asked him if they could talk when she saw him walking by on her way to class, and with an irritated huff, he agreed.

“She did not break up with me,” Zach said back sternly, shoving his hands into his pocket, kicking a rock on the floor. “She is just taking time to… process… what happened between you and I on the ski trip…”

“I didn’t mean for any of that stuff to happen… I—”

“I don’t really care what you meant to have happened,” Zach said back with a shrug. “You knew you weren’t my girlfriend, pretended to be anyways, and now she won’t talk to me.”

“Well, I don’t get why she’s upset with you when I’m to blame,” Zoey quipped back, earning a look from Zach.

“Don’t,” he shook his head at her. “Don’t try to make her out to be the bad guy here.”

“I’m not,” Zoey shook her head. “I’m just saying—”

“I don’t care what you’re saying, Zoey…” he sighed. He wiped his face with the palm of his hands and huffed frustratedly. “Look. It’s just a lot for her. First, she thought I ghosted her all weekend. Then, it looks to her like I had cheated on her, and then when she found out the truth, she hears that I was starting to feel things for you, and—”

“You were starting to feel things for me?”

He gave her an irritated glare when that was all she had heard from that.

“I love Y/N, okay?” he said to her sternly, using his hands to point to himself and then off to the side for emphasis. “Not you, not anyone else, just Y/N. Whatever fake relationship you and I had when I didn’t have my memories, that’s all it was, fake. You are not the Zoey I wanted.”

Zach looked away from her, and that was when he saw the back of your head, face pointed to the floor, as you sped-walked away into the building. He couldn’t tell if you had seen him and Zoey talking, but from the way you were walking so damn fast, maybe. Damn it.

He turned back to Zoey, who had tears in her eyes. And he felt bad, because he didn’t enjoy making girls cry.

“Just…” for the umpteenth time, he sighed. “Just stay away from me and my girlfriend, I’m begging you.”

ᯓ⟢

part five>

taglist: @faephoria @maybankslover @ursogorgeous13 @khiatonsx @enchantedstarfish @starsmoonn @zulema222 @10ava01 @ietss @rafegf-real @leather-n-velvet t @avengersgirllorianna @chalahyung01 @thaissette @emberaurora @isabellaxlilah @matchieee @purplerose291 @wtfdudesblog @mattyskies @onlyrealjoy @sabrina6272827 @probablyreadingsmutlol @loupiotesworld @tqd4455 @persefone200 @dreamygirli3 @tobucina @h1ghw4y-blog @k-k0129 @harrys-housewife @pillowprincess4him

hoping all of these tags worked, some of them weren't popping up when i typed them! i've retyped them all by hand like 3 times, but each time i save it, it comes up as half of the list not actually tagged, so pls let me know if it tagged you!

#drew starkey #zach maclaren #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #zach maclaren fanfiction #zach maclaren imagines #zach maclaren x reader #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren x you #drew starkey angst #zach maclaren x angst #zach maclaren angst

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fictionismyreality3 · 9 months ago

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Take a Break

Warnings: hints at smut no actual smut, romance and everything that comes with it

Notes: every so often the need for this man will just suddenly pop up like gOD LET ME LIVE

The fingers you were clenching around your pen were beginning to hurt. Trying to write this essay was making you feel more like a wide eyed freshman than someone aiming to finish senior year at the top of their class. You stared aimlessly at your laptop, your eyes burning from how long you’d been looking over the work you had so far.

Which was only the title.

Just 2 more months. 2 months and then you could graduate, and you’d have your degree, and you could have your dream job and not be cramming book after book in your head, hoping you’d pick up the knowledge when really all it did was make you feel like punching your-

“Darlin’? You doing okay with your homework?” The honeyed voice of your boyfriend echoed around your dorm you, a light breeze the only warning you were given as he appeared randomly behind you.

“Yeah, Jasper. M’fine.” But just looking at his unfairly gorgeous face made you want to punch him instead of your TA.

It wasn’t fair. He got to be stupidly handsome and smart and he could easily ace your classes, probably finishing your degree in a few days with his stupid fucking vampire memory, and everything was so easy for him that you- “Honey, you’re frownin’ at me.” Jasper’s words drew you out of your little thought spiral.

“Yeah, I know, I know.. I’m sorry, I just..” You took a deep breath. “This is making want to rip my hair out.”

Jasper’s face now wore a frown mirroring your own, his gaze ever attentive, searching your face like he was looking for some hidden solution you couldn’t see. He ran his hand through your hair soothingly, his thumb brushing away the crease between your brows. The frustration and self-loathing that was radiating off you had hit him like a thick summer heat, pulling him up to your dorm in an instant.

He didn’t like to see his pretty little mate upset.

You were supposed to be happy. It was the last few months of school and he should have been feeling waves of glee and satisfaction dripping from your pores. Not this. And so, Jasper made up his mind. It wasn’t often that he used his abilities on you, it was something you’d discussed early into your relationship, something you insisted could only be a last resort kind of thing.

But the tears welling in your big eyes made his heart clench, and he found himself layering calm and relaxation over you like a blanket. “Why don’t you take a break, darlin’?”

Your head went all fuzzy, the cotton candy filling your skull making the words on your computer screen seem irrelevant. Blinking slowly, it took you a second to realize what was happening.

“No, no Jas, I have to finish this.” The words of protest sounded funny in your ears, the idea of doing anything but slumping back in your chair seemed exhausting. “No, you need to rest. You work so hard, honey.” Coaxing hands pushed you back in your seat, a sense of lethargy filling your bones as you hazily made out Jasper kneeling in front of you.

“Can’t.. I hav’to.. have..”

A Cheshire grin curled over Jaspers lips as he watched your body grow lax and pliant. Sure, adding little bouts of arousal between the relaxation would be breaking the rules you’d set, but he couldn’t have his mate overworking herself. Ghosting his hands up your legs, he pushed a little bit more bliss into you, enjoying the little whimper that slipped out.

“Don’t worry, darlin, I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

#jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale x you #jasper x you #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale x reader #jasper x reader #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen #jasper hale

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zeroseuniverse · 5 months ago

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Folded Notes

Word Count: 875 Summary: When Jeongin wasn’t looking, she slipped a folded note into the side pocket of his backpack."I saw you smile at the little kid playing outside earlier. It made me smile too." Pairing: Jeongin X Fem Reader

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The sun filtered through the wide classroom windows, casting dappled patterns across the desks. Jeongin sat a few rows from the front, glancing discreetly to his left. There she was, perched near the window, her notebook open and pen in hand. He smiled faintly to himself as he watched her draw, her fingers gliding over the margins of her notes. The sketches were small but intricate—flowers, clouds, little animals that seemed to frolic across the page.

She didn’t know it, but Jeongin admired those tiny details more than she could imagine. He wasn’t brave enough to strike up a real conversation, even though she’d exchanged polite smiles and the occasional "Hi." Words always seemed to lodge in his throat when he thought about speaking to her. Instead, he channeled his thoughts into something simpler: little notes, left anonymously in her sketchbook.

It started on a whim.

One day, she’d stepped away from her desk, leaving her sketchbook open. Jeongin had noticed a drawing of a small bird perched on a tree branch. He scribbled a quick message on a sticky note: "Your art is beautiful. Keep going!" With his heart hammering, he tucked it between the pages and returned to his seat.

When she came back and found it, he saw her surprised smile from the corner of his eye. His chest warmed at the sight, and he knew he’d do it again.

Over the next few weeks, the notes became a ritual.

"Good luck on your exam today—you’ll do great!""The bunny you drew yesterday was adorable!""Your flowers make even the margins look like a garden."

Jeongin spent more time crafting those small, heartfelt messages than he ever spent on his own assignments. He would sneak them into her sketchbook during breaks, always careful not to get caught. The way her face lit up each time she found one made it worth the risk.

But what Jeongin didn’t know was that she had started to notice him, too.

At first, she was simply curious about her anonymous admirer. Who was kind enough to leave such sweet messages? But as the days passed, her attention drifted to Jeongin—the quiet boy who sat a few rows away. She noticed the way his pencil tapped rhythmically against his notebook when he was deep in thought. She caught the soft hums he let slip when he thought no one was listening. And that laugh of his—low, shy, but utterly infectious—it lingered in her mind long after class ended.

It didn’t take long to piece it together.

The timing of the notes, the proximity of his seat, the way he avoided her gaze whenever she caught him glancing her way—it all pointed to Jeongin.

The next day, she decided it was her turn.

When Jeongin wasn’t looking, she slipped a folded note into the side pocket of his backpack.

"I saw you smile at the little kid playing outside earlier. It made me smile too."

When he found it later, Jeongin froze. His heart raced as he read the message over and over, his mind spinning. Was it... her? He glanced in her direction, but she was focused on her notebook, as if nothing had happened.

The game had begun.

The following days were filled with small exchanges.

"You have a really nice laugh. I wish I could hear it more often.""I noticed you always lend people your extra pens. You're really thoughtful.""That doodle of the cat with sunglasses? Hilarious."

Jeongin couldn’t believe it. The person he’d admired from afar was now leaving notes for him. Each message felt like a gentle nudge, encouraging him to be a little braver. But still, neither of them made the first move.

The tension built with every exchange, a delightful mix of excitement and nervousness. She started leaving notes in his notebook. He began slipping messages under the edges of her sketchbook. The unspoken game pulled them closer and closer, like magnets drawn together.

One crisp afternoon, Jeongin finally decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

Class had just ended, and most students had filed out. Gathering his courage, Jeongin walked over to her desk. His hands trembled as he slid a folded note onto the corner of her sketchbook.

She looked up, startled, meeting his gaze. For the first time, he didn’t look away.

With a small smile, she unfolded the note.

"Can I take you out for coffee?"

Her heart fluttered. Without a word, she opened her bag and pulled out a bundle of folded papers. She placed them on the desk between them.

Jeongin’s eyes widened as he recognized the notes—his notes. But when she flipped through the stack, he realized something else: his notes were mixed with the ones she’d been leaving for him.

“I guess we’ve both been playing the same game,” she said softly, her cheeks tinted pink.

Jeongin stared at her, his lips parting in surprise. Then, a slow, radiant smile spread across his face.

“So... is that a yes?” he asked nervously, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, laughing lightly. “I’d love to.”

And just like that, the game of notes ended where it was always meant to—with two hearts finally meeting, no longer hidden behind words on paper.

#skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz #jeongin fluff #jeongin x reader #jeongin stray kids #jeongin skz #yang jeongin x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids fluff

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sakuraszn · 6 months ago

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ⵌ ECHOES OF WHAT COULD BE !

ft. Izuku midoriya x fem. reader

synopsis. Izuku quietly harbors feelings for someone he knows he can never have. He watches from the sidelines, silently suffering as his heart breaks piece by piece, helplessly observing his friend fall for someone else.

cw. sfw content upcoming!! ┊angst ┊unrequited love┊unspoken feelings┊this takes place during highschool.

nia’s notes. I haven’t wrote in forever..I highkey missed it soo I’m back n ready to come out with a bunch of content for u guys! I got inspiration from a song called: girl by the internet. 0.9k words.

Izuku Midoriya had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. He was gentle, his spirit was kind, and his dreams vast. But, despite those wonderful qualities that he has there was one thing he couldn’t bring himself to do: confess his love to the person he loved the most.

when it came to his feelings for you, he kept them locked away, buried deep within the confines of his heart. The dreams of becoming a great hero and harvesting the power of one for all were already a monumental task, and adding the complexities of love to his already chaotic life seemed like an insuperable challenge. So, he chose to keep his feelings at bay when the time was right.

you must be wondering how his feelings started for you, yeah? well, it all started during the second year at UA high school.

By then, you and Izuku had become among the closest of friends, like two sides of a coin, always together. Anywhere he went, you were right by his side, and vice versa.

Izuku has always admired your inspiration to help others even when it’s not needed.

Your presence had a way of lighting up a room, and your devoted attitude knew no bounds. All those things about you just had him in a chokehold and lured him to you like a cartoon character flying in the air for pie. He often grappled with the question: why couldn’t he muster the courage to confess his true feelings for you? It was a struggle he faced daily, a quiet battle that kept him awake at night. Each time he thought about disclosing his heart, fear crept in, wrapping around him like an unshakeable cloud.

Instead, he chose to remain in the background, silently observing as you drew closer to Shoto Todoroki, the charming boy who seemed to effortlessly grab the attention of everyone in the class.

Izuku couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy stirred within him lately every time he saw you and shoto together. You two were always laughing, sharing inside jokes, and supporting each other in ways that made Izuku's heartache. he could see the way your beautiful eyes sparkled when you looked at shoto, the way you would easily get flushed whenever he was near. It was clear to everyone, including Izuku, that you, y/n, had fallen for shoto.

Weeks dragged on, and the interactions between Izuku and you widened painfully. He still crossed your path often, still fought beside you in battles that demanded trust and unity, but the ease of your conversations had vanished. Laughter that once echoed between you now felt forced, awkward—a fragile reminder of what used to be.

One evening, the sky bled crimson as the sun dipped below the horizon. You stumbled upon him outside the dormitories, alone and consumed by his relentless training. His kicks sliced through the air with a desperation that mirrored the turmoil in your heart. It was as if the rhythmic motions were a futile attempt to keep the ghosts of your shared moments at bay. You stood in the shadows, unsure whether to approach or linger in the silence that had grown so thick between you.

“Deku,” you said softly. “Can we talk?”

He glanced up, jolted by your sudden approach, the gravity in your voice catching him off guard.

“Of course.”

You stood there hesitantly with your hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of your skirt. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. It’s about Todoroki.”

Izuku’s heart sank quickly. He nodded, bracing himself for the knowing words that were about to come out of your mouth.

“I… I think I like him,” she admitted, your cheeks tinged with warmness. “I’m not sure how he feels, but I wanted to tell you because… well, you’re my closest friend, and I value your opinion.” The words hung heavy in the air, and Izuku felt like someone plunged him with a knife and twist it in his stomach.

Izuku forced a smile, but inside, a storm raged. “That’s great, y/n. Todoroki’s a great guy.” Each word felt like a dagger, carving into his chest as he fought to maintain his composure.

“You think so?” she asked, her eyes searching his face for the reassurance she desperately wanted, unaware of the uneasiness brewing beneath his calm surface.

“Yeah.” The word slipped out, almost a whisper, his voice trembling just enough to betray the shambles within. “I think you’d make a great couple.”

The weight of her smile hit him like a shipment train, a bittersweet wave of comfort washing over her while he stood there, drowning in his own heartache. “Thanks, Deku. That means a lot.” Her gratitude pierced through him, leaving an aching void where hope once flickered, a crushing reminder of what could never be.

As you walked away, exchanging bittersweet goodbyes, Izuku let out a shaky breath, his hand pressing against his chest, overwhelmed by an aching nothingness. The words he desperately wanted to say felt heavy and trapped in his throat, swallowed by a paralyzing fear that gnawed at his heart. A deep sense of regret washed over him as he watched her figure recede into the distance, every step pulling her further away from him. He couldn't shake the painful thought that if he had only conjured the courage to confess his feelings sooner, maybe, just maybe, things could have been different.

He also understood that some things were better left unsaid. As he gazed up at the now dark sky, the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the moments lost to silence.

©sakuraszn! xoxo

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4doras · 19 days ago

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SK8TER BOI ౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

a troublemaker and someone like you would never work, but what happened to ‘opposites attract’? ⊹♡

riki x f.reader

genre. fluff

wc. 1.1k

a/n. hihi first riki fic and last post before i leave for a week 💔 but it's okay i miss the beach… i want to snorkel so bad. also ignore the whole meaning of sk8ter boi ㅠㅠ i know it doesn't make sense with this fic IM SORRY

he was a punk, she did ballet. what more can i say?

riki was nothing but a troublemaker. he was always in some sort of drama at school – disrupting classes, sneaking out during the day, doing graffiti on school property – he had done it all.

but you? you always got the best grades in all your classes, you joined multiple extra-curriculars, even going as far as joining the school council. long story short, you were one of the best students in the whole school.

more under the cut!

–

as per usual, riki had been disrupting your class, it was nothing special. but your teacher had enough of it.

“riki,” she tried to hold in her anger, trying to keep her voice below a yell, “move to the seat next to y/n.” she said, pointing at the seat where rei sat. “rei, please move to riki’s old seat.” the teacher dipped her head as if she was apologizing to rei.

once rei picked up her bag and left, you waved eachother a small goodbye as she walked to her new seat.

you slouched in your chair. your best friend was gone and all the way across the room, and now you had to sit next to this nuisance of a person.

–

just like you expected, riki disturbed you throughout the rest of the class; drawing stupid doodles in your book, tapping you on the shoulder to get your attention just to ask you what the answer was, purposely knocking his pen on the desk, he somehow managed to do all of that within the span of the twenty minutes of class that was left.

you hadn’t looked closely at the drawings he left in your book, but once you got home, you realised that he drew two cats with small hearts peppered around them.

he wanted her, she'd never tell

for the rest of the next week, you found gifts, accompanied with notes that talked about how pretty the anonymous sender thought you were, on your desk every single day. with each new day, new gifts would show up in your locker.

monday was chocolates, tuesday was a teddy bear, wednesday was a small bouquet of flowers, thursday was an assortment of candies, and friday was… well, nothing because you’d find it out today.

–

“you have a secret admirer, y/n!” rei squealed, squeezing your arm a bit too tightly. “the gifts are so cute…” she rambled on about how adorable the gifts were and how the admirer is “so in love with you”

“i don’t think its an ‘admirer’ per se,” you said, doing air quotes, “i wanna know who it is, though.” you hadn’t a clue on who it could be. people liked you, but you couldn’t think of one who would go this far for you.

in all honesty, it was pretty heartwarming. someone getting you gifts and writing cute notes for you everyday? it was sweet, sweet enough that you might just like the mystery person.

–

rei had to meet with her club for a meeting before classes started so you decided to go to class without her as the meeting would take well over an hour.

instead of a gift, you saw a small folded note sitting on the corner of your desk. it was weird, usually riki would be sitting in his seat next to yours, resting his head on his desk, attempting to sleep. but today, he wasn’t even here.

you opened up the note to reveal a full page of words.

“(sorry for not getting you a gift, im really sorry!!)

i really like you, y/n. i always thought i had something for you since our group project in seventh grade, but now i’m sure of my feelings, and i know that i really and i mean really really like you. it might be a lot but could we meet at en- park after school?

– riki”

all of those presents, all those sweet notes, they were from riki? the riki who was always getting into trouble? the riki who constantly pestered you in class? that riki?

you weren’t sure which was worse, the fact that the unknown messenger was riki or the fact that it made your heart race knowing this fact.

but all of her friends stuck up their nose, they had a problem with his baggy clothes

the second you saw rei exit the meeting room, you pulled her aside, note folded in your hand.

“rei, i need to tell you something right now.” you tugged her further away from the crowd of people, urging her to increase her pace.

once you reached a more secluded space, you whipped out the note, unfolding it for her to read.

she covered her mouth with her hands as she read, until she got to the bottom, immediately dropping her hands and jaw.

“no way.” her eyes moved away from the paper, averting them to you. “riki?” she took the note from your hands, inspecting the paper. “why did my biggest enemy have to like you!?” she sulked, knowing that the outcome could end up with you and riki together. “that means i might be ditched for riki…” she pouted her lips at you.

“what?” you were confused. you thought that she’d be unaccepting of the thought of you and riki being together, but she didn’t seem to mind it that much. “you’d allow it? me and him together?”

“well, i can’t really do much about it anyway, so why should i care? plus, it’s your life y/n. just ‘cause i don’t like him, it doesn’t mean you can’t.” she smiled. “so don’t worry about me, okay? this is about you.”

he's just a boy, and I'm just a girl. can i make it any more obvious?

you were up and out of your seat once you got dismissed from your last class, instantly beelining it for the park.

when you reached the park, riki was already sitting on a bench, waiting for you. you walked up to him, making your presence clear.

“you came.” he had a subtle smile on his face, unsure if you liked him back or not. “well, you read the note,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “i promise i like you, y/n. it’s not a joke or dare or anything like that.” he tried to play it off but you could tell he was nervous.

“you’ve liked me since seventh grade?” you questioned, still unsure of how true that was.

“yeah, but i thought you hated me so i never confessed then.” he looked down at his feet, still feeling awkward.

“i did,” you softly laughed, “it’s good you decided to wait this long to tell me.” you noticed how silent riki had gone. he wasn’t sure if you liked him or not, so you had to make it obvious to him. “look, i don’t know if you could tell, but i think you’re cute.” he immediately shot his head up.

“what?” riki froze, he never expected this outcome. out of all the things he had to brace himself, he never could have dreamed of this. he didn’t prepare how to react if you said you liked him back. “do you actually?”

he couldn’t believe that you liked him back, as if he was only dreaming of it – you had to prove it.

you planted your hands on his shoulders before tiptoeing to reach his face and kissing him. it wasn’t anything big, just a small peck on the lips but it still had him in total shock. his face was still, in the same position that he was when you kissed him.

“i like you, okay?”

we are in love, haven't you heard how we rock each other's world?

the next time you sat in class, you weren’t just sitting next to riki, you were sitting next to your boyfriend.

he was still the same riki that drew in your book and pestered you for the answer, but at least it was enjoyable.

and of course, being the troublemaker he was, he snuck a few quick kisses when no one was looking.

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lupinqs · 10 months ago

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CHAPTER TWO ━━ Silence and Static

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.5K

☆ ━ warnings: nothing really, paige is just kinda emo lol

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: sorry this is such a filler and it’s boring but it’s meant to serve as a basis for paige’s perspective after her and dani’s fall out

THE START of senior year has a bitter taste that Paige wasn’t prepared for. She’s envisioned this time in her life in so many different ways—dominating on the court, coasting through classes with Dani by her side, enjoying the final months before the world outside St. Louis Park opens up to them. But reality always has a way of shattering things, leaving Paige to pick up the pieces of what’s supposed to be the best year of her life.

The ache in Paige’s chest is a constant reminder of what she’s lost—or more accurately, what’s been torn away from her without any explanation. As she sits at the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, Paige’s fingers hover over the message icon, the urge to text Dani overwhelming. She doesn’t know what she’d say; she just wants to talk her. But the memory of her and Dani’s last conversation stops any true thought or idea of communicating with the brunette. She was so hostile, so cold, so different from Dani—who’s always been warm and kind and true. And now Paige stares at the last message she received from the girl and it hurts her eyes to even look at.

Dani ❤️‍🔥

i’m going to camp, won’t have my phone

sorry

It was sent in early June, and that was it. No further explanation, nothing to ease the anxiety that had gripped Paige the rest of the summer afterwards. And now, Dani and Paige are both back, and yet, the aforementioned is more distant than ever before. The silence between them has grown thick, suffocating, leaving Paige alone with her thoughts and the static of unanswered questions buzzing in her mind.

With a heavy sigh, Paige tosses her phone aside and forces herself to get up and get dressed. She goes through the motions: pulling on her favorite UConn hoodie, tying her shoes, grabbing her bag. But everything just feels off. The hoodie’s too heavy, her shoes too tight, and the backpack weighs down her shoulders more than it should. It’s as if the world has shifted slightly, leaving her out of sync with everything around her.

As Paige trudges down the stairs, she finds her dad and Drew in the kitchen, the two of them already busy with their morning routine. The smell of bacon and maple syrup fills the air, though it doesn’t bring its usual comfort to Paige.

“Senior year, P!” her dad, Bob, chirps, grinning sideways at his daughter as he packs Drew’s lunch box. “You excited?”

Paige forces a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

Bob’s brows furrow slightly at her tone, sensing the lie beneath the surface, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he just hands Paige a piece of bacon, which she gladly accepts. “I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” he replies, clearly trying to be reassuring.

Paige nods, sending him a short smile before making her way over to Drew. He sits at the table, eating his pancakes. She ruffles his hair a little, and then kisses it lightly, saying, “Have a good first day, ‘kay? Better tell me all about it when you get home.”

Drew will be in first grade and he’s been bustling with excitement to start back up in school since it ended, having had a wonderful kindergarten year. Paige adores her little brother’s innocence, his love for learning. It clenches at her heartstrings a little bit, though—it feels like he’s growing too fast.

Drew sends his older sister a grin, saying with his mouth full, “I will, Paigey!”

She smiles back, this one reaching her eyes a bit more, before mumbling her goodbyes, Amaya sending a text telling Paige she’s here. No, Paige does not have her license yet—no, she doesn’t want to talk about it. She heads out the door, the morning air crisp. It does little to clear her mind. She smiles a little at her sophomore friend as she gets into the passenger seat, greeting her. Amaya grins back, though she’s clearly unhappy with the fact summer’s over.

When they arrive, the parking lot is already half-full, students milling about in groups, laughing and talking and probably complaining about the fact that school’s back in session. Paige isn’t offended when Amaya leaves her side to go to her friends in her own grade, bounding over to them happily. Besides, the blonde has already spotted Thaliah Sommers and KK Adams near the entrance, the pair waving at her with tired smiles.

“Hey, P,” KK greets. “Senior year, yeah?”

“Seems like it,” Paige replies, glancing at the building, lips pulled into a tight line. She doesn’t even bother trying to fake another smile, expression brittle at this point. Her friends don’t seem to care; they both look more than exhausted, their summer sleep schedules most likely not mingling well with the early arrival time.

“Can’t believe I have a first period,” Thaliah grumbles, wiping at her eyes. Truthfully, the girl looks as if she’s just rolled out of bed—sporting a sweatshirt and sweatpants, face bare. It seems as though senior year has made them all careless.

“Yeah, but at least you get out after fourth,” Paige reasons, shaking her head as she thinks of her own schedule. “I have all these random free periods between my classes, so I gotta stay here all day. I’ll prolly just end up bothering Coach during ‘em.”

“I’d hate that,” Thaliah agrees, scrunching her face up as the three of them begin to walk into the building, recognizing that class starts in a few short minutes.

Inside, the familiar sights and sounds of the first day of school surrounds Paige. Lockers slamming shut, freshman looking lost, teachers already reprimanding students. To her disappointment, Paige doesn’t feel a single ounce of excitement as she takes in her surroundings, instead only feeling an unfamiliar sheen of anxiety graze over her skin. She knows why. Lately, everything that’s wrong with Paige has led back to the same thing. Dani has always been her constant; though, now, it’s in a far different way than it was before. Dani seems to be the source of all of Paige’s problems, all of her recent negative feelings, the new emotions she’s been experiencing. The absolute lack of Danielle Callan has rocked Paige’s world more than most would believe possible.

And Paige has no idea whether it helps or not that her first class of the day is AP Lit—the only class she and Dani will have together the whole school year. When they were signing up for classes last spring, it was Dani’s idea to take it together. Dani had always planned to take it, but when she found out that none of their friends had that same idea, she needed someone. And that someone—always—was Paige. The blonde was hesitant, because, truthfully, she’s only ever heard bad things about the class. The teacher’s good—Paige knows that, she had her for English her freshman year—but, according to some of Paige’s older friends that have since graduated, the class is apparently a shit ton of reading and too difficult for her own good. Yet, because it was Dani, Paige had agreed. And the thought of spending that hour with Dani every single day was enough to make the thought of tackling Shakespeare and Faulkner bearable (especially knowing that Dani would be there to help her). But now, as Paige steps into the typical flamboyant English type of classroom, the reality of what happened over the summer hits her like a tidal wave.

Dani’s already there, sitting in the middle row, her light brown hair pulled up into a messy bun. She looks tired, shoulders slightly hunched and dark circles under her eyes, gazing vacantly at her desk. Paige’s heart twists a little at the sight. It’s not as if Paige hasn’t seen Dani at all since their fight—she has. They live right next door to each other, of course she has. But it still hurts all the same. To be completely cut off with little to no explanation by your best friend who you also happen to be hopelessly in love with is fucking painful.

Paige hesitates in the doorway, her feet rooted to the ground as her eyes stay on Dani. She wants nothing more than to go to her, to sit beside her like they always have, to pretend that everything is okay, even if it’s not. But something in Dani’s posture, in the way she keeps her eyes downcast, warns Paige to stay back and keep her distance.

“Oh, Paige!” Mrs. Donovan, the AP Lit teacher, calls out in excitement as her eyes land on her student. She grins brightly—a bit too brightly for the early hour, Paige can’t help but think—and gestures to a desk. The one that’s— “You’re right behind Danielle!”

Dani doesn’t look up at the sound of her name, doesn’t bother to acknowledge Paige’s presence at all. The blonde swallows hard, forcing herself to move. She slides into the seat Mrs. Donovan gestured to, the one right behind Dani, her heart pounding against her rib cage. From this close, Paige can see the tension in Dani’s shoulders, the way her fingers tap anxiously against the surface of the desk. Paige can only imagine how Dani’s feeling—but, still, she’s usually mostly accurate. Dani’s always been more introverted, and new schedules, new routines, and new people tend to make her anxious. Paige can tell she’s feeling that way right now. Because, despite everything, Dani is still Dani. And Paige will always know Dani. The blonde wants to reach out, to say something—anything—but the words only stick in her throat.

As the bell rings and Mrs. Donovan starts the class, handing out syllabi and talking about what to expect for the year, Paige’s mind strays far from the discussion. Instead, she finds herself staring at the back of Dani’s head, thoughts and memories circling through her head with unwarranted clarity.

JULY 2013

THEY’RE ELEVEN years old, and the summer sun blazes over them as Paige and Dani sit on the swings at the park near their houses. It’s a place they’ve been coming to for years, one of their constants. In fact, it’s actually where they first met.

The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, mingling with the sweet aroma of the cherry popsicles the girls devoured earlier. Paige’s legs pump the air lazily, the tips of her shoes grazing the ground, while Dani swings a bit higher, her hair flying out behind her like a banner in the wind. The worn-out metal creaks with each swing, a familiar sound that blends into the background of their laughter and chatter.

“Race you to the top!” Dani suddenly shouts, voice filled with a reckless enthusiasm that usually belongs in Paige’s instead. Without waiting for a response, Dani leaps off the swing, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud, making a beeline for the jungle gym.

Paige’s laugh bursts out of her before she can help it, and she scrambles to follow, heart pounding with the thrill of the chase. “No fair, you started first!” she calls, her words trailing behind her as she races after her best friend.

They reach the platform that hovers above the slide, the same spot where Dani broke her arm years before. Paige remembers it vividly—how Dani had cried, the way her elbow was bent all weird, and how Paige had held her hand the entire car ride to the hospital. The spot is a little scarred now, but it doesn’t stop them from sitting side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge as they survey their world from above.

From this vantage point, Paige can see so much more. The neighborhood spreads out before them like a patchwork quilt, each house a different square, each tree a different shade of green. The sun casts long shadows, making the world below them seem like a dream, distant and hazy. There’s a stillness in the air, a peaceful quiet that Paige—for once—isn’t the one who breaks.

“P?” Dani asks, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Paige hums in question, keeping her gaze out before her instead of on the girl next to her. There’s something in Dani’s voice that makes her brain short circuit a little, a seriousness that doesn’t belong in the carefree world around them. “Yeah?” Paige asks, trying to sound light, though a small knot of worry forms in her stomach.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Dani’s words hang in the air between them, heavy and laden with thought.

Paige turns to look over at her now, eyebrows furrowed in surprise. Dani’s never been the type to dwell on what’s ahead—in fact, she says it scares her too much to even think about it. Instead, she usually submerges herself in now, living in the moment, seizing the day with both hands.

“What d’you mean?” Paige replies, voice soft, almost afraid to shatter whatever fragile thing Dani is holding onto.

Dani shrugs, her shoulders rising and falling with a casualness that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Like… what we’ll be like when we’re older,” Dani elaborates, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “We’re starting middle school now, and I always hear things about friends drifting apart. I just wonder if, when we’re older—like high school or something—if we’ll still be friends. Or if things will have changed.” Dani keeps her eyes out on the horizon, expression thoughtful as Paige gazes at her.

Paige feels an odd tension in her stomach at the thought of losing Dani, of the possibility of their friendship fading away. It’s too painful, too much that would be taken at once, to even consider. Dani is Paige’s constant, her anchor in a world that sometimes feels too big and too overwhelming for the eleven-year-old. The idea that they could ever grow apart feels like a betrayal of everything they’ve ever promised each other.

“We’ll always be friends,” she says with confidence. Because, in what world could they not be? “Nothing will ever be able to change that, ‘kay?”

Dani finally looks back at Paige now, her expression softening, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Slowly, the seriousness begins to seep out of her. “Promise?”

Paige doesn’t hesitate, reaching out to hook her pinky around Dani’s. It’s a childish gesture that fits the friendship between two young girls. But this time, it’s true—a vow that they’re both determined to keep.

“Promise,” Paige echoes, squeezing Dani’s pinky with her own.

As they sit there, side-by-side on the playground, the world feels small and manageable, just for a little while longer. And, here and now, Paige allows herself to believe that nothing with ever come between her and Dani—no matter what.

PAIGE BLINKS, the memory fading just as their promise did. It hurts all over to think about the fact that she was so sure that nothing would ever come between them, that their friendship was absolutely unbreakable. But now, here they are, strangers but not at all, bigger walls being built between them each and every day.

The weight of that lost connection presses down on Paige’s chest, making it hard to breathe. Her lungs flare in and out. She wants—needs—to do something, to find a way to bridge the gap between them. But she just doesn’t know how, the silence and static between them far too heavy. And the fear that she might never get the chance to again is almost enough to make Paige’s lungs go out completely.

Mrs. Donovan’s voice drones on in the background, but Paige can’t focus on the words. All she can see is the back of Dani’s head, the way her highlights illuminate her brown hair at certain angles, the way she shifts uncomfortable in her seat every now and then, probably feeling the weight of the blonde’s gaze tearing into her back. It’s almost as if an invisible barrier has been built between them, one that Paige can’t tear down no matter how hard she tries.

Finally, the bell rings, signaling the end of class. Paige watches as Dani gathers her things quickly, avoiding eye contact with the blonde as she hurries out of the room. Paige lingers there for a second, heart sinking slightly as she watches Dani slip out the door, her back rigid, her steps quick and purposeful.

Paige feels a mixture of relief, dread, and—oddly enough—excitement. Relief that first period is over, dread at the thought of facing Dani again. But, at the same time, excitement about seeing Dani again. Because if this is the only time Paige can see her, if AP Lit is truly all Paige will ever be able to get out of the brunette again, she’ll take it. As pathetic as it sounds, she’ll take as much—or as little, she supposes—of Dani as she can get.

THE FOOTBALL game is the first big event of the back to school season, and Paige stands there in the student section with Thaliah and Amaya. It’s not like Paige has any particular interest in football; of course, she’s always preferred basketball. But she’s been in need of a distraction, something big and exciting enough to pull her out of the unfamiliar melancholy that’s settled over her, and it seems like a high school football game under the lights is the perfect choice.

The student section is alive with energy, the kids screaming and chanting things that they probably shouldn’t be as the game kicks off. Paige does her best to lose herself in the excitement. She screams along with her friends, sweating slightly under the setting sun, grabbing a Hawaiian lei excitedly when KK offers her one. It’s beach theme tonight—Paige tried to fit into it, wearing sunglasses and some beach button up with a white crop top, the lei helping to add to it.

But as Paige’s eyes drift along the players, along the field, along the track—her eyes land on her and it’s almost as if any and all excitement that had settled inside of Paige is whisked away, just like that. Dani stands on the sidelines, between the line of football players and the cheerleaders, her camera clicking away. It’s not like this is a new thing—Dani did this last year, for yearbook, and Paige shouldn’t be surprised to see her doing it again this year.

The Callan girl has always been passionate about photography, and it’s one of the many things that Paige has learned to love about her through the years. Paige knows that Dani has a way of almost losing herself in the click of her camera, finding beauty in the smallest details, the most mundane moments captured and crafted into something beguiling. Dani used to show Paige all the photos she’d taken, scrolling through the storage on the camera. The two of them would huddle over the device, and Paige would help her best friend pick the best photos for whatever project she was working on in yearbook.

And then, of course, there’s the other memory card that Dani has—the one that Paige knows is labeled “P.” It’s simple—all of the scattered photos that Dani has taken of Paige over the years, all put together on one little storage device. Dani told Paige several times that it was her greatest piece of work, merely because Paige was the star of it. Yet, for a while, Dani didn’t let the blonde look into it, keeping the memory card hidden away. But, eventually, Paige’s curiosity got the better of her and she’d found the card and scrolled through the photos. There were some from when Dani first got into photography, when they were much younger, with chubbier cheeks and more crooked smiles. A good amount was the photos Dani got of Paige court-side, some for the yearbook, some just reserved for the two of them. And then there was the candid ones—Paige remembers scrolling through them, and the look in her own eyes that stared at Dani from behind the camera… God, she remembers thinking that it seems she was whipped from the very beginning.

Paige’s heart clenches at the thought of that memory card, and wishes she was a photographer so she could have one of Dani. She’s got a fair few—or, well, a lot—of photos of Dani on her phone, but it’s just not the same. Faintly, Paige wonders what Dani’s done with the “P” card. Maybe she threw it away, crushed it into tiny little pieces, tossing it into the trash like she did her and Paige’s friendship. Or maybe—maybe—she’s kept it. Paige hopes it’s the latter; she imagines Dani, late at night, thinking of Paige like Paige has been thinking of her, and then going through the photos of her, wishing she could take back everything she said.

Paige almost rolls her eyes at her own thoughts. She’s almost sure Dani threw it away.

And then, the blonde is pulled out of her own head by the sound of the crowd erupting into a series of cheers, the band beginning to play. She glances at the field, then at the scoreboard, realizing she’s just missed a touchdown. Thaliah and Amaya and all the students around Paige are jumping up and down, chanting for Hopkins. Paige joins in, trying to drown herself in it, doing her best to put her mind to rest and just have some fun—she’s always been so good at that; she wishes it wasn’t so hard to do recently.

When the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the game, Hopkins pulls through with a narrow win. The crowd is excited for their first victory of the season, screaming those “start the buses” and “who’s your daddy” chants that Paige has always found ridiculously hilarious. Eventually, everyone begins to disperse, and Paige stands with Thaliah and Amaya, the three of them following the rush of students leaving the bleachers.

Amaya quickly tells Paige and Thaliah that she has to go to the bathroom, rushing towards the building. The other two girls stand around patiently, people watching their peers. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long until Paige’s eyes once again find Dani’s frame. The brunette is packing up her camera gear, hauling a small duffel on her shoulder.

Thaliah follows the blonde’s gaze, nudging her gently. “You should go talk to her,” she says encouragingly, nodding towards Dani.

Paige shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.” It’s true; she remembers their last conversation—the cold look in Dani’s eye, the forced indifference, the river she rushed to drown Paige away.

“You’ve been miserable,” Thaliah says, point-blank. Paige’s eyes shift to her left, where the tanned girl stands beside her, brows furrowing in almost offense. “Don’t side-eye me like that—you know you’ve been miserable. And I think you’ve got nothing to lose these days when it comes to Dani, so you might as well just try.”

Paige doesn’t answer, eyes merely locking back onto her best friend. Without thinking, almost like her legs are moving of their own accord, the blonde starts walking towards Dani. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say, doesn’t know if Dani will let even let a word slip out of her mouth. But Thaliah’s right: it’s worth a shot. Paige can’t leave without even trying.

As she approaches, she watches Dani glance up, eyes meeting Paige’s. It lasts for only the briefest of seconds before Dani plainly averts her gaze, eyes anywhere but on the blonde walking up to her. Paige feels her heart stutter against her rib cage, threatening to sink at the sight, but, nevertheless, she keeps going, only stopping when she’s a few feet away from the brunette.

“Dani,” Paige murmurs, her voice soft, almost pleading. It’s all she can say; she doesn’t know what else to say.

The basketball player watches as her best friend’s body goes rigid, her hands stilling on her camera bag. It takes a second, but eventually Dani looks up, meets Paige’s gaze, brown on blue. There’s an unnameable emotion swirling within the Callan girl’s irises, and Paige wants nothing more than to step closer, to look deeper in them, to decipher exactly what’s going on in her best friend’s head. But she doesn’t. Paige stays rooted in place. And, for one, stupid moment, she believes that Dani might actually say something, that maybe this could be the first step in their repair.

But it doesn’t last.

“Dani!” multiple voices echo the name from the pair’s right. Paige turns to see Beau Hudson, still clad in his football gear and eyeblack, grinning and waving at Dani—his girlfriend, the blonde thinks, sickly—beckoning her over. He seeps with the same overconfidence he’s had the twelve years that Paige has known him, and it makes her blood boil over slightly. By his side is Serena Corren—a cheerleader that also happens to be Beau’s best friend, who’s famously known for her sharp tongue and dismissive attitude—also grinning and waving. Serena and Beau stand with a group that’s more than excited and impatient for Dani to join them.

Paige’s stomach twists at the sight. It’s clear that her best friend has integrated herself into this new crowd, one that Paige has always found superficial and unkind.

“I have to go,” Dani mutters to Paige, not meeting the blonde’s eyes. She slings her bag over her shoulder before hurrying off to her new friends, leaving Paige standing there, aching all over.

Paige watches Dani go, feeling like the weight of the world is pressing on her shoulders, weighing her down. She wants to scream, to cry, to do something to make Dani see that they don’t have to be like this, that they can fix whatever has gone wrong. But she can’t. So, instead, she just stands there, staring, missing her best friend.

Yes, Paige misses her. God, she misses her so much that it fucking hurts—it hurts her insides, her outsides, her bones, her skin. It makes her feel all wrong. Every part of her aches with the absence of Dani Callan, the loss of everything they’ve had. She misses Dani’s smile, the gleam in her eyes when she’d look at Paige, the giggles she’d let out whenever the point guard made a stupid joke. She misses the way Dani used to make her feel—alive, whole, like she could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, as long as Dani was by her side.

But now all of that’s just—gone. And that’s clear as day as Paige watches Beau Hudson wrap his arm around Dani before pressing a firm kiss to her mouth.

She’s going to be sick.

Paige feels a hand on her arm, a head resting on her shoulder. It grounds her a little. Thaliah mumbles, “It’s gonna be okay, P.”

Paige doesn’t have the heart to say it, but she knows that’s not true. There is nothing okay with the fact that Dani is slipping—or, she supposes, has already slipped—through her fingers. There is nothing okay with the loneliness and pain that comes with it.

Paige doesn’t really know if anything will ever be okay again.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn huskies #wbb #wcbb #paige bueckers smut #wlw #take me to church #hopkins p fic #paige bueckers x oc

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wandasboy · 6 months ago

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A Well-Deserved Break (part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2

DO NOT COPY OR PUBLISH MY WORKS. MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY

Pairing: Older!Detective!Agnes x Younger!GN!Reader

Summary: It had been a week since your last encounter with Agnes, you couldn’t stop thinking about her no matter how hard you tried.

Warnings: Age gap, gn!reader, no use of y/n, pet names, flirting, suggestive themes, sexual content

Word Count: 1200+

A/N: Sorry it took so long! Also, I have never written smut before so bear with me. There will likely only be one more part.

It was finals week and you had one more exam to study for. You had been hunched over your desk for most of the evening once classes were over and were beginning to feel how stiff your back and neck were. You decided it was time for a break. It’s winter, but you decided a walk would be nice, just to stretch and get your blood pumping. You pulled on the first coat you saw and walked outside.

About 10 minutes into your walk, you began to curse yourself for leaving the house without gloves or a hat, or even a thicker coat. Being stubborn, you shoved your hands in your pockets and kept going, not wanting to waste your break. As you were shuffling along the sidewalk, you heard a car pull up to a stop next to you.

“Well look who we have here, what are you doing walking around outside this late?” Detective Agnes smirked at you and waved you over.

You smiled and walk ed closer to the passenger door. “Hi Chief, I’ve been studying for hours and wanted some fresh air.”

She watched as you rubbed your hands together, chilled from the cold breeze. “Pretty cold for a walk don’t you think, sweetheart? C’mon, hop in and get warm.”

Your face was red and wind-burnt and you couldn't feel the tips of your fingers. She unlocked the door and you stepped in. “Thank you,” you mumbled while shivering.

“So smart and yet you’re out here without gloves and a hat?” She clicked her tongue in feign disapproval. She reached into the back and grabbed an extra jacket, throwing it over your lap.

You pulled it up over your arms and around your shoulders. In doing so, you caught a hint of her sandalwood and amber cologne lingering on the collar. You breathed it in, relaxing into the passenger seat.

She watched you in her peripherals, smiling to herself. Within minutes of pulling away, she gets a text which makes her huff in frustration.

“Dammit, stupid officers can’t do a single thing on their own.” She turned to look at you, “Sorry baby, I have to stop at the station and fix this. Do you want me to drop you off at your place?”

You could tell she was peeved by the tone in her voice. Her grip on the wheel had tightened and she had turned back to face the road.

You had missed her since the last time you saw her. Although you had only been with her for a few minutes, you found yourself longing to spend more time with her. “Can I come with you?”

Agnes drew a short breath at your question, surprised. She quickly regained her composure, “I don’t see why not.”

Upon arriving at the station, Agnes opened the door for you, leading you to her office. She sat in her chair to take a call. You watched her from your spot near the door, unsure what to do. You tried not to pay too much attention to the way her legs were spread, how her fingers gripped the phone, and how every time she raised her voice it sent chills down your spine.

Instead of standing there awkwardly, you took the opportunity to look around her office. Her chair was pulled away from her desk, so you walked in front of her to look at the items on her desk. She had case files, sticky notes, a framed picture, and a few trinkets scattered on her desk. You picked up a half-solved Rubik's cube and began to fidget with it.

Agnes looked up, watching you move in front of her, looking and touching the many items she had on her desk. She continued her conversation (although it is more her yelling at the person on the other end.)

Focused on the Rubik's cube, you barely noticed her stand up, grabbing a file in front of you. You felt her breath on your neck and you shivered. Your heart began to race as her front was almost flush to your back. Getting the file she needed, she sat back down in her chair. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You turned to watch her, seeing how focused she was (albeit irritated), how she exuded authority and confidence. Gathering courage, you decided to sit on her desk, facing her, while you waited. She suddenly looked up, watching you. Her eyes raked over you and you shrank under her stare. She yelled at the guy on the phone then hung up with a sigh. You looked down at her coyly as she sat back, enjoying her view.

“Such a pretty doll you are.” She smirked, watching how you reacted to her words. Without thinking, you licked your lips and shifted on her desk. She suddenly stood up directly in front of you, quickly taking advantage of the slight spread of your legs, stepping between them. She placed both hands on the desk on either side of you, leaning into your space. You gasped, feeling her up against you. She chuckled at your reaction and moved her mouth closer to your neck, whispering.

“You like this don’t you, sitting here, acting innocent. Such a tease.” She nipped at your ear and you let out a small moan and instinctively bucked your hips. The action causes your core to brush against her front.

She took this opportunity to grab your hips and pull you closer. You yelped at her rough grip, which encouraged her to grind you against her. You reached up and put your hands on her shoulders to stabilize yourself. “Mm, such pretty sounds.” She pressed her lips to your neck, ghosting her lips slowly downward. She licked at your pulse point and you wrap a hand around her neck. She bucked her hips and slid one hand under your shirt. Before she got further, there was a knock at the door. She pulled away from you and sighed. Someone yelled, “goodnight chief” through the door and walked away.

Agnes looked at her watch and then back up to you. “It’s pretty late, we should get you home.”

You looked at her, visibly frustrated. “But-”

“Another time, baby. C’mon.” She gave you her hand to help you down from her desk. Grabbing her coat, she takes your hand, leading you out of the station. The drive to your place was silent, the tension evident in the air. You wondered how she knew where you live, but don’t question her. Upon arriving, she turned to look at you.

“Goodnight, doll,” she said leaning over to kiss your cheek.

You felt your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink. “Goodnight Detective,” you said with a small smile and get out, turning around to wave once you reached your door.

Once you get inside, you leaned against the door, letting out a deep breath. You closed your eyes and try to stop your mind from racing. You decided to take a shower, hoping it will ease the butterflies in your stomach. After showering, you got in bed, knowing you’d be unable to focus on studying at this point. Lying in bed, your mind wandered, remembering the feeling of Agnes’ hands on you, her tongue tracing down your neck. You fall asleep, unable to ease the throb between your thighs.

~~~

Agnes drove back to her place, her mind replaying the events in her office. Upon getting home, she grabbed a beer and sat on her couch, trying to distract herself from imagining having you all to herself, no interruptions…

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x gn reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #detective agnes #detective agnes o'connor #agnes o'connor x reader #agnes of westview #carter writes

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doumadono · 2 years ago

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A/N: this small thing drew inspiration from a recent conversation I had with my wonderful @indignant-alpaca, delving into the common struggles faced by students across various disciplines. Despite our diverse fields of study, we all encounter similar challenges sooner or later. Drawing from my own experiences, I decided to craft a variation focused on enhancing the learning process, using one of my favorite characters, Bakugo, as a source of inspiration 💣

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

In class

Be actively involved in class discussions and activities. Katsuki would assertively participate, ensuring he grasps concepts firsthand.

Treat each class as a competition to stay engaged. Challenge yourself to excel, just like Bakugo's competitive spirit drives him to be the best hero.

Don't hesitate to ask questions when you're unclear. Katsuki would demand clarity, and you should too! It's a proactive approach to understanding the material.

Observe and analyze the teacher's explanations and demonstrations. Katsuki assesses his opponents' moves; similarly, analyze the "moves" in your lessons for a deeper understanding.

Take dynamic and concise notes. Katsuki strategizes in the heat of battle, and your notes should capture essential information for later review.

Studying

Approach your study sessions with intensity and focus. Katsuki's training is high-intensity, and your studies should match that energy.

Divide your study time into focused blocks for specific subjects. Master each "arc" before moving on to the next, just like Katsuki hones specific skills.

Work on problem-solving exercises regularly. Katsuki tackles various challenges, and you should too. Practical application reinforces theoretical knowledge.

Utilize interactive study methods. Katsuki learns by doing, and hands-on activities or simulations can enhance your understanding of complex topics.

Plan your study sessions strategically, focusing on high-priority subjects during peak concentration times. This approach mirrors Katsuki's tactical approach to hero battles.

Channel your inner hero by immersing yourself completely in the subject matter, just as Katsuki immerses himself in his battles.

Break down complex topics into smaller components for in-depth understanding, similar to how Katsuki analyzes quirks of his opponents to identify their weaknesses.

Learning attitude

Cultivate a hero's mindset. Set ambitious goals and view your studies as a heroic journey toward self-improvement.

Develop resilience in the face of challenges. Katsuki faces setbacks but emerges stronger. Treat academic difficulties as opportunities for growth.

Believe in your capabilities. Katsuki exudes confidence, and a strong belief in your abilities can positively impact your academic performance.

Be flexible in your approach to learning. Katsuki adapts his fighting style, and similarly, adapt your study techniques to different subjects or challenges.

Regularly reflect on your progress. Katsuki analyzes his battles for improvement; evaluate your academic journey to identify areas for growth.

Learning, Bakugo-style, means embracing the fact that doubters will always exist, no matter your achievements. Instead of seeking external validation, channel that energy into mastering your skills and gaining knowledge for your own growth. The focus should be on personal improvement and the satisfaction that comes from overcoming challenges, rather than proving yourself to others.

Periodically review past material to reinforce your knowledge. Katsuki often reflects on his battles to improve his combat strategy. Apply this concept to your studies for a solid foundation.

Test yourself regularly to identify weak points. Katsuki constantly challenges himself in battles to enhance his abilities. Use quizzes to gauge your progress and strengthen areas where you struggle.

Develop mental resilience to overcome setbacks. Katsuki faces defeats but bounces back stronger. Treat failures as stepping stones, learning from them to improve and move forward.

#bakugo katsuki #study like Bakugo #bakugo #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x reader #kacchan #bakugo headcanons #mha headcanons #bakugou katsuki #bakugo fluff #bakugou katsuki headcanons #bakugou fluff #mha fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x you

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hidden-poet · 1 year ago

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Professor Snow

1/1

Summary; Coriolanus takes a position at the university teaching military theory where he develops an unhealthy crush on one of his students.

Warnings; unethical behavior, teacher/student relationship, stalker behavior, coercive control, dubish consent, reader is not very smart, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, reader isn't described or named.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

After studying under Dr. Gaul, he took her place at the University.

She was only looking for a successor, and now that she had found one, she no longer wanted to waste time there. So Coriolanus became the University's military theory professor, in addition to his Gamemaking duties.

He hated the first year. If the pest of the day wasn’t some annoying boy who had never seen war talking about how he single-handedly would have defeated the districts, it was a young girl wanting to single out his attention.

But in his second year, an infatuation started to soften his days to something close to enjoyment.

She always sat alone, at the front, but rarely took any notes. At first, she jotted every word from Professor Snow, but by the end of the first month, her note-taking had stopped and she drew flowers upon the pages instead.

When Coriolanus put up a slide depicting the horrors of war he had witnessed, she winced. She was a delicate flower ready for debasing, and Coriolanus found himself protective of her.

He would catch a young boy staring at her occasionally, innocently or not, and would proceed to make an example out of him.

He would save her homework assignments to the end, eager to see her opinions and problem-solving. They were both terrible, but he passed her anyway. Her analysis lacked any original thought, she only regurgitated what previous men in power thought. Her disinterest in the class was evident, but he still wrote ‘great job’ on her papers only to see her smile.

It occurred to him, however, that if he kept passing her, he would no longer have her in his class. She was set to graduate at the end of the semester, and he might not see her again. So he began to fail her homework assignments and even essays that were worth a pass.

He watched her face as it sagged when she received her first fail. He hated to disappoint her, but it was for her own good. The longer she was in his class, the more she would warm to him.

She was embarrassed, hiding her paper in her book bag.

She began taking notes again in class. Their eyes would meet and Coriolanus could feel himself turn into putty every time she would glance up to look at him.

It happened twice, he would get so lost just staring at her that he forgot where he was going with his sentence or tune out a student asking him a question.

Twice was enough to decide that his little blossom had to come home with him, where he could give her the appreciation she deserved. He hated to see her so stressed out over these assignments. He wanted to kiss her brows as they furrowed trying to understand the content.

“It didn’t matter, darling. Don’t worry about it,” he wanted to say, but instead he put a red line through her work.

One lecture she did nothing but stare at him.

“Professor Snow?” She approached him timidly with her paper in her hands.

“Yes, honey?” It was not an appropriate way to address a student, but she was more than that.

“I was wondering if you could take another look at my paper?”

He took it from her soft hold and pretended to review it. She stood so close, he could smell her perfume.

“What about this deserves a higher grade?”

“I got nearly a zero, sir. I met all the criteria.”

“No. Hobbes and Rousseau met the criteria and you copied them. Philosophers I taught about in this class, so I have very little interest in re-reading them in your poor and clunky paraphrasing.”

Her shoulder dropped and tears welled in her eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He stood up from his chair and took her into his arms, yet another thing that would be disapproved of by the school board.

“I am sorry.” She sobbed. Her tears felt so good upon his shirt. He would have kept her there longer but she pulled away, embarrassed.

“I am sorry. I am being silly. It just seems like no matter how hard I try, I keep failing.” More tears run down her cheeks, making Coriolanus want to pull her back into his arms. He was left with no choice but to cross them over his chest.

“I tried so hard. I spent weeks on this assignment only to get four percent more than a person who never turned it in at all!”

“I understand, blossom, but I asked you what you thought about the constant state of war. Not what Hobbes thought.”

She nods her head looking defeated. Her body shifts to turn back to the door. He couldn’t let her leave upset with him.

He pulls her back by her arm and lifts her head up to his level, tipping up her chin.

“Hey, what do you think? Are people in a constant state of war with each other?”

He doesn’t remove his hands, liking their place.

She shrugs her shoulders, her voice small and meek, giving away how much she wanted to leave him.

“I don’t know. Hobbes said-”

“Forget Hobbes. What do you think would happen if we didn’t have laws governing us?”

He, for one, knows that he wouldn’t be wasting time asking philosophical questions that went over her head. He would pin her to the floor and have his way until his name was the only one she remembered, and then take her home to safety.

“I think people look for order. We would naturally form some type of governing system that would work for all.”

God, she was foolish.

“All people look for order? You don’t think anyone would hurt you if there were no repercussions?”

He could see he was scaring her so he backed off a bit. Letting his hands fall to his side.

“We live in the Capitol, sir. There’s no guarantee that they would be met with repercussions here.”

It was the first original thought he heard from her, and it wasn’t all the way incorrect. Corruption was prominent within the Capitol.

“I think people are good. Mostly. A few bad apples but…” she shrugs again, finishing her sentence before completion.

“And what should we do with the ‘bad apples’?”

What would she do to him?

Another shrug and her eyes go floating around the room.

“Help them, I guess.”

A grin spread across his face. She would comfort the wolf that ate her.

“Well,” he reaches across his desk for the paper and a pen. Although she was undeserving, he wrote a large A across the top. “I must say I disagree but the assignment is based on your perspective.”

He hands the paper to her who stands shocked, but with a great big smile across her face.

He would do anything to see her smile, even if it derailed his plans.

“Thank you, sir.”

His mind raced with ways to keep her close but the next class needed the room soon.

“You need extra help,” he takes his satchel off the floor and leads her to the door, “Come see me in my office on Tuesdays at 6.”

“I couldn’t sir. I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

Coriolanus felt as though he might die if she didn’t agree to come.

“My measure as a teacher is based upon my worst performing student.”

He knew his words stung her and he hated to do it but soon he would only speak sweet words to her. Coddling her from the world they live in.

“I would be more than happy to have a one-on-one with you.”

—-------------

He dreamt of the upcoming Tuesday. The staff at the University were out for drinks and dinner so the office was always empty. He was completely alone with his girl. It made the long day worth it.

He sat next to her, too close, as he helped her complete his homework on his office desk.

She had asked him a question but it was lost upon his ears.

“Hm?” He hums absentmindedly, before clearing his throat and trying a harder and deeper ‘hm’.

“I am stuck on question 8.”

He leans over her to check the question.

“It’s C.”

“But why is it C?”

The question was simple, and Coriolanus was through with teaching for the day.

“The answer is just C.”

He gets up as she fills in the bubble.

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

“No, sir. Should I leave? I didn’t mean to interfere with your dinner.”

She goes to get up but she had only been there an hour. He wanted more time.

“Sit,” he told her, rushing over to hinder her chance of escape.

She doesn’t fight him, sitting down and dropping her homework back down.

“I’ll order something in. Finish your homework.”

He returns from his phone only to find that she had finished all her work.

Disappointment filled him. It would only take a few seconds to check it and then she would leave. He tries to act indifferent. Essay homework would now be given.

“Right, let's take a look.” With his guidance, the answers were all correct so his brain worked to make a reason to prolong her stay.

“Very good, angel,” he praised and she glowed under him.

“Now, your reading notes. I want to see that you picked up the right ideas.”

He holds his hand out. Praying that she had no notes to give him.

Her reaction told him she had not. Her shoulders shrunk, and her nose reddened.

“You did do your readings, did you not?” He teases.

“I was going to do it tomorrow morning,” she admits quietly.

He fakes disappointment. “Oh no, petal. That won’t do. I need to see that you are understanding the content. Readings are crucial to your learning.”

“I am sorry. I didn’t know you wanted me to have it done.”

He shakes his head although he could laugh giddily.

“Take your book out and begin.”

She looked like a kicked cat as she started her readings.

He remains close, marking other students' work next to her. He takes a break to retrieve the food when it arrives but her eyes never stray from the page.

The food was lukewarm and nothing special but he acted as if it was the best thing he had ever eaten.

He holds his fork out to her, hopeful but she politely declines, stating that she isn’t hungry.

“You’re going to make me eat alone?” He asks, already opening all the containers on the desk.

“I should really finish and go home. My parents are waiting for me.”

“You don’t live in student accommodation?” He knew this already but confessing he did could seem obsessive.

“No. My parents don’t live far so it's easy for me to commute.''

He hands her a plastic fork now that she is distracted from her work and she takes it.

“What are your plans after graduation?”

He imagined her in his home pregnant.

“I am not sure. My father wants me to take over the family business, but I’m not sure it’s for me.”

The family business sold high-end jewelry. She was always adorned in it.

“Why?” he pushes.

She avoids his eyes again as she speaks.

“I would like to do something that helps people,” she admits.

“But you chose a business major?” Under a normal student/professor relationship he would not have known that without her telling him. But he spent hours going over her academic record. Her grades were not great, but they didn’t need to be. He would look after her.

“My father chose a business major, I just completed it.”

She pushes her food away and brings back her textbook, “Well, almost. This class is the only one I have to complete to graduate.”

“Better get back to studying then.”

He cleans up the food. He had no appetite either.

It was good to know that she was susceptible to influence. If she did what her father wanted, as her husband, she would cause him little trouble.

She yawns and he supposed he had kept her long enough. It was only a full workday before he could see her in class again. He wondered if he could devise a plan to see her on weekends. But for now, he bid her goodnight and saw her off in her car.

They continued their Tuesday nights. Coriolanus even managed to get her to come in some Saturdays before a big test. He helped her not only with his class but all she signed up for. Coriolanus was blessed with an academic mind and found her business major incredibly easy while she struggled with proposals and understanding key learning criteria. It worked well for him seeing her nearly three times a week. He was beginning to think he would be able to pass her after all. The sooner she graduates, the sooner their student/teacher relationship ends and something more could bloom.

When he entered class on Thursday, she was talking to another student. Another male student. It ruined his good mood completely.

He barked at everyone to sit down, and the other student, who Coriolanus never bothered to learn the name of, thankfully went back to his usual seat up in the stands.

He couldn’t help but glare at her during his lecture, along with slamming papers down on the desk too hard and manhandling University equipment.

Did she know of his affections for her, and was now using them against him for a passing grade? Coriolanus Snow would not be made a fool.

He spoke too fast for her to finish taking notes, leaving her to try to absorb information as much as she could. He dismissed the class after handing out the week's homework assignment, stopping by her desk last.

He places a hand up on her desk. “Stay,” he demands.

She leaves her packed bag by her feet as her classmates exit the room. The boy had the gall to wave goodbye but she only smiled back.

He knew he had no reason to be mad. Classmates talk. But he is mad. He is so furious.

He waits until the classroom is cleared before leaning closer with a fierce glare.

“Is my class a joke to you?”

“No, sir.”

“Then perhaps you can tell me why after hours of wasting my time with you, you still manage to hand in something I can barely read, let alone pass?”

“What?” Her voice quivers. The grades were not released yet, so her hope for a pass was still standing.

“Maybe if you spent less time flirting and more time studying I could have my nights back.”

As an only daughter, she was unused to being spoken to harshly. So the words of an authority figure upset with her quickly made her eyes water.

He wanted to pull her up from her seat and kiss her tears away, but she needed to know what she did was wrong.

“You’ll have to redo it.”

There goes her weekend and any plans with any boy, he thought.

She nods her head, “Yes, sir.”

“I want it on my desk by Monday morning.”

She nods again. Thinking it was over, she reached for her bag.

“Well?” He snaps. “Say thank you. I shouldn’t be giving you another chance.”

“Thank you, Professor Snow.” She mutters.

“What? Speak up,” he pushes.

“Thank you, Professor Snow,” she says more loudly.

“Go,” he flicks his hand towards the door and she rushes out.

Coriolanus didn’t want to leave for the week with her still mad at him, he had to make amends. So he waits in the multi-level parking garage. It took him a while to find her car, relieved that it was still there.

He waits for an hour, sitting on the hood of her car. When she does arrive, her eyes are red and puffy from crying. He felt terrible that he had caused her to bawl her eyes out for what was sure to have been an hour and a half.

“Professor Snow?” She questions, making her way to the car.

“Oh, precious. I am sorry.” She stood far enough in front of him that he could reach out and tug her forward into his hold.

“I just want what’s best for you, darling.” And it’s not that boy.

He proves he is stronger than her when she fails to break free from his hold.

With his grasp, he uses his right arm to stretch over her and pull her jaw up to look at him. His left arm wrapped around her shoulders keeping her pressed against his chest. A loose curl fell over his forehead and across his eyes.

“You were doing so well. You need to refocus, angel. We can study more together, you’ll get there.”

“You fail me for no reason”. Well, there was a reason. “I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend, honey.” His grip suddenly turns painful, causing her to squirm but he keeps her face still up towards him.

“Is he your friend too?”

“What are you talking about?”

The sound of footsteps echoing through the concrete building forced Coriolanus to release his hold. He would have trouble explaining to the school board why he thought this position was appropriate.

Another female student in tall heels makes her way up the slope. She had large headphones on that quieted the awful sound of her heels meeting the concrete floor, but it drowned further conversation between the two.

With Coriolanus off her, she unlocks her car, throwing her bag into the passenger seat.

“I won’t waste any more of your time, Professor Snow. Thank you for your help.”

If the other student had walked any faster, Coriolanus would have thrown open her car door and yanked her out. But even with the students' large headphones if she decided to scream it would be heard. So he steps out of the way, watching the sleek car go. He was left with an empty feeling and a quiet rage.

—---------------

He taps his pen against his desk while his other hand is pressed against his lips, propping him up. He had expected her to make her way to him by now. He had sent her a reminder message that their study session was still on.

He knew she would be here. She told him she hated studying at home. Her parents always distracted her. They loved their daughter and never put too much value on her schooling. Their money would take care of her before her husband came along. Her father would be happy for her to never marry and stay in the home, but he knew that he wouldn’t be around forever, and there would be a need to have someone else to look after her.

Coriolanus knew that they only bothered to send their daughter to University as a hunting ground for eligible bachelors. While not the intended fish, Coriolanus was certain he could win over her parents. But first, he had to win her over. And she was making it very difficult by not keeping their plans.

She was at the library, he was certain. Only 100 yards from his office. She would sit there until her assignment was done. He was sure to fail it again.

His chair scrapes against the floor as he pushes it back. He storms through the University without coming across another soul. It was late Saturday, and students and academics had long started their weekend. It was perfect for him. He wouldn’t mind if everyone else in the world died, so long as it left him and his girl. It was a sunny day, the temperature warm enough to stay outside in it. Once he found her, he would suggest that they lay a blanket on the field.

The library was dead. Capitol students were more interested in the social life of the University rather than the academic. He had expected that it was only her there, head burrowed into a book with her usual perplexed expression.

But through the book stands, he could see her sitting next to the boy from his class. They sat close together with books, coffee, and pens scattered over the table.

“Trust me, he wants you to write more formally. Try this-” she transcribes his words onto her paper and Coriolanus makes himself known.

“This is academic misconduct. You both could be expelled from the University.”

Maybe that’s what she needed. Her family would surely shun her and with no earning potential of her own, it would drive her into his arms.

“I was just helping.”

“You were just completing her assignment for her.”

She shook her head, going to speak, “No-”

“Shut up,” he spat.

He points to the young boy, “I want to speak to her alone. Leave.”

They both wait until the boy is far enough so their conversation won’t be heard.

She looks at Coriolanus with hopeful eyes.

“Sir, I-”

“You fucking slut.”

“Excuse me?” She asks, shocked.

“Whoring yourself out for an assignment. What would your parents think?”

She stands up behind the table, scooping her things into her arms.

“How dare you suggest that. He was helping me because you suck at your job.”

He crosses the table and grabs her by the arm to stop her from leaving.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.” She tugged against his hold but she was only a young woman, barely an adult, and he was a full-grown man.

“We are going to the Dean, and you can explain to him that the reason you cheated is because he hired me.”

He doesn’t let go of her arm, using it to lead her to his car. She doesn’t fight him. She was too stupid to realize that the Dean wouldn’t hear concerns of academic misconduct on a Saturday. Or that Coriolanus had darker intentions than penalizing her for colluding with another student.

He drove too fast through the city. Her hands clenched his leather seats but she said nothing to him the entire journey. When they arrive at his skyrise and the gates open to his carport, she sobers to the idea that she might be in danger.

“Where are we?” She asks as he parks the car.

“Get out of the car,” he demands, unclipping his seat belt.

She follows him willingly into the elevator and up to his penthouse.

“Professor Snow, why are we here?”

He slams the door shut behind her and uses the solidified door to push her up against it.

“You are so fucking dumb, you know that? I’ve never seen anymore more undeserving of a place at the University than you.”

He had his hand on her neck to keep her there but added no pressure to hurt her.

“What was your plan with that boy? Use him to graduate and then get knocked up by him? Force him to marry you?”

“No! I didn’t have a plan. We’re just friends.” Her small hands go up around his wrists.

“Well, I don’t like you being ‘just friends’ with him. You’re never to see him again.”

She nodded as much as she could in her position.

“Okay, sir. Just please let me go. My family are expecting me home.”

Now that she was here, he didn’t like the idea of any other place being her home.

“Take your phone out of your pocket and tell your parents that you’re spending the weekend at Sophie's.”

Sophie was her best friend. She spoke of her often but Coriolanus had never met her.

She does as she was told, and Coriolanus leans in closer to watch her type the message on the family group chat. She was an adult and could stay where she pleased, so long as it was a preapproved place by her father, and Sophie’s was.

He takes the phone, pocketing it and releasing her from the door.

Her hand reached back to open it but the lock sprang up.

“Why did I have to tell them that?” She questions.

He knew now, and forever more, he was going to have to spell things out for her.

“We’ve had a terrible fight and now just need time to regather ourselves.”

He walks towards the open kitchen expecting her to follow.

“I am sorry. You can tell the Dean. I’ll be expelled for misconduct.”

“You think I care about academic misconduct? What do you think we were doing these past few weeks? I was doing your homework.”

She followed him to the kitchen now, and he could feel her presence behind him as he reached into the fridge for one of the fizzy drinks she liked. He stocked up in case she ever did decide to come over.

“What are you doing? Let me out then.”

He cracked open the tin and took a sip. It was sweet and too bubbly for his liking.

“Your parents sent you to school to find a husband. I think it’s time you found one.”

“I told you, I wasn't flirting with him!” She protested.

“Me, you dumb girl.”

She looked taken back. She steps back away from him, her eyes wide and frightened.

“You? Professor Snow-”

“I think given everything, you can call me Coriolanus, sweetheart.”

She retreats to the living room to create some distance.

“I am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

He scoffs at her, placing the can on the kitchen island and following her to where she stood.

“I won’t tell anyone about this,” she offers, “Just open the door.”

He chooses to sit, pulling her down on top of him. Her dress rises up to her thighs and he takes a second to run his hands up and down them. He helps her position her legs around his waist before holding her down by her hips.

“You don’t find me handsome, is that it?” He asks. He saw the way she looked at him when she thought he couldn’t see her. He knew she wasn’t immune to his natural good looks.

“Please, Professor Snow. I just want to go home.”

“Oh, love. You’re going to be staying here now with me, darling.”

“No. No I can't, I have to go home.”

Coriolanus shakes his head. “This is your home now, beautiful.”

He really hated to see her cry.

“Everything’s going to be fine, sweetheart. Don’t cry.” He reaches up and wipes the tears as they fall.

Her jewelry jingles as she runs her hands through her hair. For the first time, it bothered Coriolanus. It felt as though the jewelry was symbolic of her father's hold over her. She was Coriolanus' property now. Her chains belonged to him.

He began by sliding her gold bangles off her wrists and unclipping the delicate bracelets that hid in between them. He let them fall around him, unbothered. She doesn’t stop him as he reaches for her necklace and earrings.

He smiles up at her now that she is bare from her jewelry. He slides his hands up to the back of her shoulders and pushes her to rest on his chest.

—-------------

Coriolanus took the week off work to help her settle. He woke up early this morning next to her and went to get her favorite breakfast sandwich from a nearby café.

The line was long so when he returned home, he knew she would be up.

“Are you hungry, petal? I got us some food,” he calls out.

He places the food on the table, upon hearing no reply.

“Petal?” He calls. “Sweetheart?”

He searches his apartment to find her sitting by the door to the greenhouse, crying. He crouches down next to an expensive marble statue that she had used as a battering ram.

“Well, why did you break it if you didn’t want it broken?” He spoke to her as if he was speaking to a child.

“It wouldn’t break,’’ she sobbed. “I couldn’t get it to crack open.”

He taps against the reinforced glass that has only minor cracks.

“It’s tough,” he consoles. If anyone else would have broken his things, he would have gone berserk, but she had free reign to smash and destroy what she liked.

“Come here,” he picks her up by her arms, forcing her to her feet and back into the bedroom.

“I want to go home to my parents,” she cried.

“I am not keeping you from your parents, petal” he says, placing her back into bed, “We’ll go visit them when you feel better.”

She curls into her side and he places himself behind her, halfway on top of her so he could speak gently into her ear.

“Don’t you want me to take care of you? Make your father proud of the man you’ve chosen? All your parents want is for you to be married. You could give it to them and never have to worry about a single thing again.”

She uncurls herself slightly, encouraging him to keep going.

“I’ll make sure you pass all your classes. Have the finest things. All you need to do is be my good little girl. So easy, even you could do it.”

He knew she had deep anxiety about the future. He could offer her a world, where all of the if’s were disintegrated. She was interested in it, flipping on her back to look up at him.

“We’ll wait until you graduate to announce our relationship. We’ll tell your parents tonight.” He wanted to strike while she was still in a deluded state. “You’ll move in. Become my personal assistant after graduation. You said you wanted to help people. Help me. Your dad will be so proud of you.”

He clouded her mind. It was an easy way out from everything that troubled her, offered by a man who she had crushed on but never thought she could have.

She nods her head, even before she was aware of it. Only the crushing feeling of his lips against hers brought her head movements to attention.

They both returned to the classroom on Thursday for the final exam. Her mind knew that Coriolanus was not right in the head. That he couldn’t love like a normal person. But it was too late. Her parents approved of the relationship. Her father was glad that it was an older, successful man rather than an immature young boy. And her mother was glad that he was handsome and rich. It would disappoint them, despite the circumstances of the relationship, to break it off. Coriolanus had already promised them a wedding by the end of the following year. Coriolanus acted indifferent to her in class, not even looking at her as he placed the exam paper down in front of her. It was already filled out with the answers. All she had to do was sit there for an hour pretending. Nevertheless, that night they celebrated her achievement. Coriolanus told her how smart she was, and that her grades placed her at the top of his class. And his work ensured that she at least passed the rest of hers. The rest of the school year was spent organizing a graduation party while Coriolanus handed in work with her name on it. This life was easy, but came at a price. Her life was no longer hers. Coriolanus played with it like a doll.

Everything was done together or not at all. He considered her his, and as such, expected everything she did to be run past him first.

“Yes, Professor Snow.” She would tease him when he gave her an outright demand, instead of dressing it up with sweet talk.

He left his position at the University to his successor, much like Dr Gaul did. He had bigger things to focus on. His presidential run and growing family took precedence over teaching military theory and the likes of Hobbes and Rousseau. He laughed at her when she failed to remember the ideas of Hobbes. His dumb, naive little girl never had to worry about the state of warre that plagued mankind. He would protect her from humanity in its entirety.

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #coriolanus x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #professor Snow

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