#i gotta catch up on school assignments ^^;

[sparklystarrrr]

Can you write Ace trappola x Gn!reader who is his childhood best friend romantic headcanons?

YAYYYY ACEEEEE MY BABY BOY

this kinda turned into a fanfic but in head cannon formatting butttt I'm not complaining

Back To You

Synopsis: You’re Ace’s childhood friend, right? So why does your heart yearn for him so much?

Contains: Ace T. x Gn! Reader, childhood friends to lovers, a whole bunch of fluff, awkwardness, childhood friends trope actually makes me salivate if you couldn't tell, STUDY SESH ROMANCE, so much yearning, some cursing, yes Ace blushes all the way down to his neck no I don't care if you think he doesn't BYEEEEE

You and Ace had been best friends since elementary school, ever since then you've rarely been caught apart

You two would actively be jumping into one another's pool every hot Queendom of Roses summer and snowball fighting in huge puffy and warm jackets during the winter

Watching him grow into the young man he is now caused your heart to stutter all the way back to middle school. For him it was the same

He would occasionally catch himself staring at you for too long, only to label it as admiration for his best friend

Even in your preteen years, seeing Ace with his past girlfriend caused an eerie twinge in your heart that you'd yet to identify...

Well, until the present time

You both went as far as to even getting into NRC which was basically a commitment to your friendship as if knowing each other since you were learning addition wasn't a commitment already

From racing each other down the slides on the playground to who could get a higher score on a Potionology test, you were an iconic and inseparable duo

The type of duo where if for example, you were out alone, people would ask where Ace was and vice versa

Even when Deuce got added on to make your little chaotic trio, people would recognize the duo in the trio (not that any of you noticed, obviously)

Considering you're probably much smarter than Ace, you two have daily study sessions that eventually turn into something completely different

Usually spilling tea about random kids from your home town or from school or prank calling the people you two debriefed about from middle school

On days like today, stormy and gray clouds covered Sages Island

The two of you were under plush blankets in Ramshackle on a slightly dusty couch

Thousands of papers scattered across the coffee table that none of you paid much mind to, mostly focusing on the English assignment in Ace's lap

His hands were raking through his fluffy copper hair while he grumbled, flopping himself over onto you as he usually would

His head would end up on your lap or shoulder while he would whine about not wanting to do anymore work

You'd laugh at his unwillingness to continue working while playing with his hair

There was an occasional poke at his sides every time he would try to squirm around in your lap

You hope he doesn't realize how pink your cheeks are, that your chest is rising and falling a bit faster, and hoping he doesn't heart your heart practically pouncing out of your chest like you can

His lips pout in complete seriousness, asking why you'd be laughing at his pain

You could try your hardest to be annoyed with him right now, but how could you when his lips are pouted so perfectly that it makes it hard to look away... or lean in... (who said that? must've been the wind)

"Ace c'mon, you gotta get up and finish this." You say with a smile peaking through

"But likeee I don't wanna get off your lap. 'M comfortable, how dare you try and make me suffer even more. This is an abusive relationship- ACK-"

Before he could continue, you kindly rolled him off your lap and to the ground

"THIS IS ABUSE I'M CALLING (your mom's name)-" "DON'T YOU DARE CALL MY MOM"

After some quick banter, you two lock in... kind of

He's finally starting to get the excerpt of some random book Trein assigned in class with the help of you

You're both sitting close together, leaned in closely which wouldn't be a problem if you two didn't have manyyy unsaid emotions bubbling up between you two

Ace could feel his brain turning to mush every time you spoke while he felt the warmth radiating off your cheeks

It got way too much for you both. After years of having these bubbling up feelings, the proximity was nearly overstimulating

Ace threw his head back onto the plush couch with a huff and placed his hands over his face

"What's wrong now, it's just like one more question Ace, you're doing good so far." You words of encouragement were enough to send him flying into a new universe but for now he'd have to sit close to you and pretend he's not trying to level up your friendship without making shit awkward

He shook his head,"We gotta talk about something right now."

Welp, now shits awkward

Bro RARELY gets serious yet now he's in the presence of his huge ass crush and can't hold himself back

"Well uh, what do you wanna talk about? You're lowkey scarin' me right now Ace"

He can't even look at you, let alone turn his body to you

"Y'know we can't keep imagining things aren't different with our friendship right now."

"What do you mean?-" "You know exactly what I mean (n/n)."

He finally turns to you, cheeks and neck a striking pink. His eyes dart to the floor, the papers scattered all over the place, anywhere that isn't you

The air is so tense around you it's hard to breath

"I know what we've both been thinking of.. don't play dumb." He grumbles

"It's about our feelings, right?"

He hums low in response, clearly too embarrassed to say anything

A ping of confidence strikes through your body making your hand wrap around his own sweaty palm

His eyes draw down to the feeling of your hand intertwining with his, a mischievous smirk replacing his pout

"Damn, you like like me?" His giggles fill up some of the awkward tension between you two for a moment

"Oh, don't act like you're not feeling the same way" You mutter just soft enough for him to hear

His smile becomes wobbly after you call him out. He's suddenly a puddle of jello

And, just as usual, he throws himself onto your shoulder,"Sooo... what does this make us?"

"Well I don't know Ace, ask me to be your partner first maybe?" You tease sarcastically

"You make me work too hardddd" He whined

After a small glare from you, he complied,"Fine fine, will you be my partner?"

Hearing those words come out of the mouth of your best friend since childhood made something explode inside you

Your body went all mushy and sloshy against his, humming in affirmation with a giddy grin

With your hands still intertwined and being inside each other's bubbles, it was only natural for you two to lean a little closer, squish your bodies nearer

He pulled you by your hand gently,"There's no going back after this, got it?" He mumbled against your lips

You didn't even give yourself time to answer, going right in and molding your lips against his slightly chapped ones like they belonged there

It was quick, just a peck, but it left you two utterly breathless

Ace's hand flew over his mouth and you looked like you were holding back a squeal while you pulled away

It settled in, you and your childhood best friend were now dating.

"Soo uh... does this mean we can stop doing work today. My brain has melted enough." "Nope! We lost too much time, now we gotta get back to work Mister!" "UGH FRICK YOU-"

Your relationship didn't really change at all

The friendly banter remained, the tickle fights and play fights remained as well except now they involved kisses and terrible pet names that would make you both cackle so hard you'd have to stop the fighting to clutch your stomachs

It also meant even more sleepovers, and who wouldn't want to have more sleepovers with their best friend?

Now you'd get to spend the rest of your life arguing over the stupidest things ever with the love of your life, aka, Ace freaking Trappola

And you two still pissed each other off to no end. That part will never go away, you're welcome (y/n)!

(when your mothers found out, they both audibly screamed "I KNEW IT!!")

[loafbud-wc]

I've made some progress on the gameplay video of my abandoned 2015 fangame! Here's the thumbnail I'm gonna use for it hahaha

[jimmedicated-jambino]

Did some expressions from Nirami's emotion challenge thing (OG template is under read more) while I regenerate

I like to play w Jimmy's hair like he's one of those Barbie styling heads <3

Template by Nirami on YouTube

[orcelito]

So my orchestra concert is this week and I fully forgot until yesterday (lost track of time!!) so I was planning on staying after rehearsal today to practice. But during rehearsal, I was surprisingly on top of things. Only had a few little things I messed up on. I was hitting parts that I often struggle with!!! So I was just like. Damn, maybe I AM ready for this...

I was gonna go to a practice room anyways to work on it for a lil bit, but all the practice rooms are full lol, so that isn't happening. But that's okay, I can try to work on those bits I still messed up on at home.

[conivolos]

guh curse my stupid autism life i gotta plan out what days i can go to school next week

[korvaine]

Now that I'm playing D2 again, I forgot how much funny shit tends to happen in raids and its fueling my itch to draw ksjdhfjdhd

And now that I'm back, we have a full raid team. I feel obligated to be the 6th.

help, reading week is so far away still

[rafesteddy]

"𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥" - 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝟑

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐆𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤

*total fic is 15k

5.8K

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 - 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒

⚠️warnings contain spoilers⚠️

Mean!Rafe, Bully!Rafe, bulling, Rafe is an ass, name calling, degredation, swearing, drinking, smoking, drug usage, kissing, praise, size kink, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), rough oral, multiple orgasms, spanking, violence, fighting, ownership kink, pet names, multiple POVs, violence, gore, horror, stalking, blood mentioned, gaslighting, lovers to enemies to lovers, reader is quick to forgive, mentions of mutual masterbation, teasing, cheating, possessive Rafe, jealousy

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Sweetheart! Reader isn't from the OBX. She met Kiara (roomate) at college and quickly became friends with the Pogues. The group decided to join the reader, working at Camp Salem which she attended every summer since she was little. After junior high she became a camp counselor herself. Sweetheart!Reader is just that, a sweetheart. She's a lover-girl and quick to forgive. She's hard to read regarding her sexual experience-her sweetness is irresistible to Rafe. He fantasizes about corrupting her and stripping her of that. Sweetheart!Reader wears her heart on her sleeve, making her the perfect target for her bully, Rafe Cameron.

𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Canon-wise this Rafe is the closest to Season 1 Rafe. He is the definition of touch starved, touched but untouched, craving intimacy because it makes him feel better, even if it's just for a few moments. The only awful thing he did in his past in this AU is to be an asshole to the Pogues. He and the Kook trio are serving community service hours assigned from the university at Camp Salem after getting in trouble for something at the end of the last school year (undisclosed drinking violation). This being something they couldn't pay their way out of.

Rafe’s POV:

“You ready, baby?” I murmur as I stretch out my legs, watching as she walks into the water nice and slow. Her hands relax at her sides, skimming the brisk water. She wanders out into the lake just above her hips, diving into the deep as I take off for my morning run, watching her from afar as I always do.

She glides across the lake, moving fast. I pick up the pace as well, trying to get to my regular spot on the trail before turning around with her. I used to tell myself I was just out for a run, but that’s a lie. Telling the boys it was simply part of my morning routine, but who am I kidding? It’s all for her.

It’s the only time I get to see her without her guard up; she’s been on edge all summer ‘cause of me. I know. I pushed her away…further, if that’s even fuckin’ possible. Made her feel unsafe in her favorite place. This fuckin’ hell hole…

Every stroke she takes pulls her farther from the beach. She’s a strong swimmer, but why the fuck is she out here all alone? What if she gets tired? What if something happens? She needs me.

And I need her. Fuck, I need her so damn bad.

This is my last weekend. I’ve wasted every possible second. I gotta make this right, even if I just get to apologize. I don’t want her to hate me even though I’ve given her every right to. I’m an idiot. I always get in my own way. I’m a goddam asshole. And this summer just highlighted that tenfold. She’s amazing. She’s so good at what she does: with the kids, with her friends. She lights up every room she walks into, and here I am, snuffin’ her out at every turn.

Y/n’s beautiful. Fuck, she’s stunning. Every time I catch a glimpse of her, I feel my heart break a little more. There’s somethin’ about her here, too. Maybe it’s the lake. Maybe it’s the summer heat. But I can’t help but picture the two of us out on my boat, her sun-kissed skin and the glimmer of the open water shining on her hair. I can’t help but think about how pretty she’d look in her little bikini, lying on my chest as we unwind on the boat deck, rolling with the waves.

That could have been us.

How did I get this deep into summer without telling her I was sorry, without admitting how cruel I was? Without telling her just how much I think about her? I had all this time, and I wasted it being angry and cold, being a fucking coward.

When I leave, she’ll finally get to relax. She might lift her head for the first time all summer and actually look around, seeing someone who’s gonna treat her like a princess. There’s plenty of guys here. She might fall in love with someone… and she deserves to. She has the right to be happy. I want to be the one that makes her happy. I can’t keep watching her from a distance. What do I have to lose anyway? I’ve already made an utter ass of myself. I’m at rock bottom.

I need to tell her I’m sorry… for everything. I need to let her know how I feel.

I stand at the lake's edge, watching as she swims into shore. My heart pounds in my chest as adrenaline courses through my veins. I study her carefully, watching the little rivers of water roll down her curves. God, she kills me. I draw a deep, ragged breath as she runs her hands through her hair, pawing out the water. I can’t take my eyes off her… I don't want to. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Damn, this morning is hittin’ harder than ever. Morning after morning, I could have made a move, choosin’ the wrong one each time. What about now? Her guard’s down, she’s relaxed. Y/n’s alone without any eyes on her that’ll question her sanity for talkin’ to me. Maybe she’ll hear me out. Fuck me. No…

I watch Kie walk through the sand toward her. Y/n smiles brightly at her friend, a genuine smile I haven’t seen in months. Kiara says something that makes y/n laugh. Carrera is gonna give me well-deserved hell if I even try to get close. I have to get her alone. I need her to know I mean it. I need her to know that I’ve thought about her for months and haven’t stopped. I’ve gotta convince her I'll be a better man if she gives me half a chance. I’ll get my shit together. I’ll be the kinda guy that deserves her. I’m gonna make this right.

𝐿𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉…

Reader’s POV:

“And just like that… fire,” Pope smiles up at you proudly. Your little crowd claps for him as he rises to his feet, giving you all a playful bow. Sarah fiddles with the speakers, pulling up a playlist as the rest of the counselors filter in toward the beach. Free Weekend is the one summer weekend where the camp counselors get to cut loose— a family weekend where all the kids head home for a few days, returning on Monday to finish the last half of the summer. You breathe deeply, looking out onto the calm, dark waters. It’s quiet, peaceful, serene. But that won’t last long. These small moments remind me why I love this place so much.

Pope crashes down on the sand next to you with a beer, passing one your way as JJ blazes up a joint on your other side. “God damn, this place gives me the creeps,” JJ rasps through a smoke-graveled grunt.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad my ass,” JJ scoffs. “You don't think we all know the stories? Shit’s spooky.”

“Yeah, it’s a little spooky I guess,” you breath as you wrap your arms around your waist, holding yourself a little tighter. Camp Salem was a pure joy during the day: bright and full of life, kids screaming and running around, birds chirping, energy buzzing. But at night, that light gets wiped out completely, the place changing entirely. A thick blanket of darkness falls on everything: the sky, impossibly dark, tall trees looming, shadows shifting all around.

Free Weekend always seemed a little more ominous. When the kids left it felt like they took the life with them. It didn’t help that the camp counselors loved to stoke the fires of fear, telling stories about what happened all those years ago when this was Camp Kildare. Free Weekend… Fourteen Counselors slaughtered at the hands of some campy-80’s-movie-esque slasher. It was bullshit. Nonetheless, those stories stuck in the back of your mind.

The lake shimmers under the moonlight, its reflection painted across the deep waters. The large fire casts embers into the sky, floating away into the distance, a red hue mixing with the stars twinkling in the sky above. The party starts to surge around you—still, no sign of Rafe. You bite at your lip nervously, trying to focus on the conversation between the pogues, but you can’t help but catch yourself looking out for him. You peer through the deep woods that line the beach, cabins set just behind, darkness, and trees swallowing up the rest of your view.

It had been a long summer with Rafe. He took out his frustration in the worst way. Who would have thought he would be so bad at managing his emotions? You laugh to yourself at the ridiculousness of that thought. He was such a dick. So, impossibly mean. I'm patient; still hanging onto our time together by a thread. But I’ve had about enough.This is his last weekend here. His probationary hours are all but complete. His worry about getting kicked out of the frat finally squared up. Even though he’s an asshole, there's this part of me that wants him to stay. What’s wrong with me?

Your stomach flutters as you hear his voice. Rafe walks down the little pathway with Kelce and Top, laughing about something. Rafe punches Thornton playfully, rough enough to make him stumble, the blonde already drunk. Kiara huffs out a disheartened breath, seeing the trio. The three shuffle through the sand, making their way to the fire.

Rafe sits down, trying to act casual, but there’s obviously something on his mind today more than the rest. He’s snuck a few more glances than usual; his stare a little more pensive than his usual glare.

The bonfire casts flickering shadows across his sharp, tight jawline. He leans closer, flexing his arm muscles unknowingly, straining his sun-soaked t-shirt. Rafe takes off his hat, running his hands through his hair, turning it backward instead, letting you see his beautiful eyes. His gaze shifts to yours, catching you staring, but this time you keep your focus on him. Rafe’s eyes narrow slightly, sizing you up but not in the way he has been— with kinder eyes.

The air between you thickens more, building from the moment you saw him watching you at the lake. For a split second, you thought he was about to break. But when Kie came over, everything changed. He walked away reluctantly, it seemed. What if he was going to apologize? Maybe I’m overthinking it.

You smile softly, hoping to ease the pressure, and like some dream state, he smiles back slightly, the corners of his perfect lips curling up; his eye flutter, the man unsure if he believes it himself.

Holy shit.

Rafe’s POV:

Is that a smile? Oh my god. I feel like I have to pinch myself. That… that’s a real smile. Her smile. Just as I hit my high I'm struck down again. My stomach twists as I watch an arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her close, whispering in her ear. She giggles that sweet fucking giggle, rolling her stunning eyes away at what Heyward has to say. Pope? You fucking kidding me? My heart shatters. Why wouldn’t he go after her? Why wouldn’t she have people pinning after her? I knew it would fucking happen… I knew that she would find someone. But how did I not see this coming? Is this a new thing? Don’t tell me I’m watching the start of their fuckin’ relationship. I’ll lose my goddamm mind. I grit my teeth and clench my fists, feeling myself right on the brink of a breakdown, seconds away from crashing out completely.

I underestimated just how hard this would be… Seeing her with someone else. Pope Heyward... Fuck that guy. He has no business being that close to her. My blood boils at the thought of him having what I yearn for—getting my girl. My chest tightens with anxiety, making my labored breathing that much harder. She’s too smart. That smile toward me meant nothing… Topper was right all those months ago. She’s done with me. She deserves better. She found better. Fuck everything. If she hates me, fine. At least she feels something for me.

Reader’s POV:

”I’m gonna get a beer. Anyone want anything?” You ask as you rise to your feet. JJ holds up two fingers, gesturing for two beers as the rest is waves you off with a ‘thank you’ and a smile. You foot through the sand, heading toward the coolers on the fringe of the woods. Leaning over you snag three, turning around, gasping as you bump right into Rafe’s big chest.

“Three, huh?” He cracks up.

“They’re obviously not all for me.”

“Obviously,” he taunts. “Drinkin’ three beers would require you to pull that stick outta your ass, and we both know you’d never do that. Now, would you?” You suck your teeth and step around him, but he strides in your path, letting out another laugh, getting off on making you uneasy. “Ain’t it exhausting being such a goodie-two shoe? Don’t even get me started on what a prude bitch you are-”

”Enough,” you shout. Pope, JJ, and John B stand up instantly, staring in your direction; posturing—challenging Rafe to mess with you again.

“Wait… Wait a damn minute. Are you fuckin’ all three of ‘em?” He whispers cruelly, close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your neck. “You’re a fuckin’ whore. Aren’t you?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Leave me alone,” he mocks your voice, reaching out his big hand, hooking his finger around your belt loop, pulling you in. “You don't want that. You love this shit. Bet’you're soaked, princess.”

“You’re pathetic, Rafe.”

“Have fun with your boyfriends, sweetheart. I'm sure it’ll be a long night for a slut like you. You got three holes for a reason. Ain’t that right?”

“You’re a pussy, Rafe.”

“‘S’cuse me?” He snorts out a little chuckle. “What was that now?”

“You heard me. Can't say you're sorry. Can't admit you like me… You’re a fuckin’ pussy and everyone knows it.”

“M’not,” he whisper, swallowing hard, thrown off completely, trying to regain the upper-hand. “I can’t wait to leave this shit hole— then I don’t have to see your priss-ass every day.”

“Keep lying to yourself, Cameron.” You push past him, walking toward the fire as you scrunch your nose, holding back tears of frustration as the pogues look back up at you. You pass JJ his beers before cracking open one of your own, quickly downing it; plucking the joint out of Maybank’s fingers next.

“Rough night. Huh?” JJ asks, making your group laugh as he states the blatantly obvious.

”Just gotta get through tonight,” you sigh through a sticky cloud of weed smoke. Pope scoots a little closer, lessening the space between you. He looks down at you with warm eyes, giving you a soft, sweet smile. It had been a fun summer with him so far; there was no denying Pope’s boyfriend material, but there’s a piece of your heart that’s holding you back…

You look across the fire, watching as Rafe talks with his friends. He chuckles between sips of beer, seemingly unaffected by your exchange, an arrogant swagger in his body language letting you know that he still know, regardless of where the two of you stand, he has your focus. Rafe looks your way, catching you red-handed. He smirks at you, continuing to torture you without words at all.

“Hey,” Pope breathes as he rests his large hand on your thigh, guiding your eyes back to him. “Forget about him. Alright. He’s just a dick… Always been a dick.” Pope keeps his hand sat, rubbing his thumb lazily, keeping you grounded. You give him a soft smile and a nod.

You’re trying your best not to look, but when you turn your attention to Kie, her eyes are focused in Rafe’s direction. She chuckles delightedly and shakes her head, obviously amused with something. You turn your attention to Rafe, watching him watch youl, his body language quickly betraying him. He crosses his big arms over his broad chest, lips pressed into two thin lines, as his eyes cut into you like daggers.

“Looks like someone’s night took a turn,” Kiara chuckles. You laugh as well; a mixture of excitement and nerves. Your laughter and smile making the tensions between the two of you heighten even more.

“I mean… We could have fun with this.” JJ hums against the lip of his beer bottle before taking a swig.

“This is a bad idea,” Kie warns.

“Of course it is. Stupid things have good outcomes all the time... You know that, Kie. Now, who of us does he hate the most?” Everyone in your group raises their hand, causing more laughter.

”Honestly, it seems like Pope,” John B adds.

“‘Course it does,” Pope clips. “You in?” He cocks his eyebrow at you mischievously.

Why not? You nod and smile as you lean into him, resting your hand on his cheek as you brush your thumb along his bottom lip. “He’s gonna kill you,” you coo. But to Rafe and the other kooks it looks like you’re mumbling sweet nothings to Heyward. Giddy energy courses around you as the group feeds off of Rafe’s growing rage.

“Yeah - What’s new?” Pope mumbles as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss, stopping right before your lips meet, sharing breath with you. “We don’t have to kiss. It’s alright. I'm sure this is enough-” You steal Pope’s words off his lips as you press yours against his in a deep, searing kiss. You let your mouth move with Pope’s, relishing in the moment of peace, knowing this would bring nothing but drama. The pogues hoot and hollar. You pull away slowly, the two of you looking back at each other, unable to deny that the kiss was great regardless of the situation.

“Yeah, that was hot. He’s pissed,” JJ blurts, making the reality of the situation sink in fast.

Holy Shit.

JJ leans into the campfire, a broad, sinister smile painted on his lips as he prepares to tell the story of ‘84, laying on the theatrics thick. “Sit back and relax. Grab a beer. Let me tell you about what happened here.”

“That rhymed,” John B. smiles and nods, elbowing JJ, who smiles proudly.

"M’a storyteller. What can I say? Well, it was the summer of ‘84… At this here camp,” he drawls as he motions his hands around the fire, catching everyone’s eyes. “Camp Kildare… Camp Kill. It was Free Weekend, just like tonight—a warm summer even, such as this. The counselors were young, carefree, horny-“ He lets his voice get swallowed up in the cat-calls of the crowd. “No one noticed the counselors gettin’ picked off one-by-one, everyone figured they were just couples slippin’ away for some advanced cuddling in the bunks. But then, a few too many started to disappear. Ain't no way all of ‘em were bangin’ one out. I mean, the kids are gone. Right? It’s quiet and eerie. Losing thirteen people is a little hard to ignore. First was Max. He ran up to the mess hall fridge to snag a keg. The next were Joy and Casey, who slipped away for a quickie in cabin five. After that, odd shit started happening left and right.”

“People started separating from the rest, only to get slane brutally. One lone counselor remained: Peggy Dates. They found her the next day, fightin’ for her life around what little remained of her fellow counselors, all slashed to pieces. In the middle of the welcome sign, they found an axe, buried deep in the lumber, dripping with the blood of thirteen…”

“Now we all know them filthy kooks only want one thing, and one thing only: cash money. I’m ass at math, so don’t quote me on this, but twenty years ago they decided to open the camp again, giving it a new name, thinkin’ no one would notice. But it’s hard to ignore it… There’s evil here. You can feel it— hear it. See it,” he whispers just above the crackling of the fire as he points toward the inky black woods.

“The Kildare Slasher is still wandering out there, just waitin’… So if you see a man walking around the timbers in a ripped plaid shirt, wielding an axe, just run. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!” JJ screams, making the crowd around the fire shout with terror and thrill. You lean into Pope and him into you, cuddling closer.

Rafe’s eyes drill into you from across the fire, his focus never leaving you, frustration, confusion, rage, all but boiling over as he scowls at you, wearing his possessiveness on his sleeve. Ever since everything went down, he never had to fight for your attention; he always had it, even if you weren't talking. He was never worried about someone taking you because, at the end of the day, he knew how hung up you were on him.

But tonight burned. He hated seeing someone else get your attention. He hated seeing someone else making you laugh and smile. His lip twitched with anger, fists tightening as he watched your fingers lace into Pope’s. And in that moment, you saw him physically holding himself back, every fiber of his being wanting to storm across the fire and take back what was his.

Instead, he sits there and stews some more, plotting his next move. He smiles smugly; his next plan of attack coming sooner than he hoped as he watches Zoey Peters stand up from her makeshift seat on a log. She brushes off shorts, the curves of her plump ass poking out of the bottom of her cut-offs; tits spilling out of the top of her shirt. Rafe’s tongue pokes in his cheek. You watch him, his calculated daze morphing into a come-hither stare. Zoey takes the bait effortlessly, strolling toward Rafe with a smile. He looks up at her from his seat on the cooler; the beautiful blonde slotting herself between his thighs, his hand instantly resting dangerously high on the back of her thighs.

He gives her a cocky smile, mumbling something charming that makes her giggle. Rafe grabs her hand, guiding her to sit on his lap. His eyes fall down her body, landing on her perfect tits, drifting higher ‘til they set on her full, glossed lips. Fuck, he’s an asshole. It’s so clear he’s doing the same thing I am… His eyes dance between the two of you as they chat. He’s so obvious about it; it’s maddening. He’s really trying to fuck with me like he hasn’t already been doing that ALL fucking summer. His large hand gropes her bare thigh as he leans in, whispering something in her ear, making her turn away bashfully. I can’t help but feel the sting; déjà vu hitting hard. Whatever…

“You wanna go down to the water?” You ask Pope, who looks over at you with a smile.

“I’d love that.” He grabs your hand, helping you to your feet, the two of you shuffling down the beach toward the lifeguard house. You step through the cool sand, leaving the warmth of the party to a place more private. “So?” Pope looks down at you, saying so much with a single word.

“So?” You sigh, tipping your heavy head on his shoulder, your body relaxed from the liquor and smoke, not too much, just the perfect buzz.

“How long until Cameron’s stomping over here asking ‘what the hell are you doing-”

"Where the fuck are you two goin’?" Rafe spats. Pope laughs weakly, the comedy and predictability of it all too much. Pope’s fingers twine into yours, silently letting you know that he’s not afraid. “What are you doin’ Huh?”

"Just hanging out, Cameron. What does it matter to you?” Pope challenges. “Don’t you have a girl? Where’s Zoey?”

“Oh, fuck off, Heyward. We both know why I was talkin’ to her. Aight? Now I’m gonna ask you one more fuckin’ time. What are you doin’ with my girl?”

“Your girl?” Pope laughs. “You’re joking? Are you his girl, Y/n?” You look up at Pope confusedly, shrugging like you’re unsure, just fucking with Rafe at this point. “We all know the answer to that,” Pope mocks. “You’ve been harassin’ her all year; been a fuckin’ asshole to her all summer. ‘Course you’re not-”

“You’re not gonna talk to her ever again. You understand?”

“She’s my friend,” Pope scoffs. “Of course, I’m gonna talk to her, you fuckin’ psychopath… We done?”

“Far from it,” Rafe laughs.

“You wanna be done, sweetheart? We don’t need to do this with him,” Pope looks down at you with a glint in his eye, using a pet name to stiffen the blow.

“Call her sweetheart again. Please,” Rafe pleads maniacally; an unhinged look in his eye as he stares backs at the two of you.

”You hard of hearing, sweet cheeks?” Pope smiles making Rafe lose all control.

“FUCK OFF, POPE. THIS IS BETWEEN ME AND HER!” Rafe shouts. His voice thundering in your chest, fists clenched at his sides, as he steps into Pope’s space.

“You just want her ‘cause she’s with me, man. You don’t care about her.”

”Don’t fuckin’ speak for me,” Rafe barks, the two standing head to head, preparing to fight as the kooks and pogues run down the beach toward the three of you. "YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE WHAT’S MINE, BITCH?" Pope swings, striking Rafe in the jaw, surprising you both; knuckles against flesh, making him struggle back, holding his face. Your hands clamp over your mouth in shock as the beach floods with panic. Kelce, Topper, John B, and JJ jump in as well; a barrage of big bodies going at it, blow-for-blow.

The light from the campfire in the distance is your only source of light as you and Kie do your best to pry the boys off each other. Rafe regains his footing, wiping the blood from his lips, his piercing blue eyes brimming with fury. He runs forward, tackling Pope to the ground, the two grappling in the sand. "RAFE, ENOUGH. STOP!” You shriek as he gets the upper hand completely, pounding Pope into the beach.

Kelce grabs Rafe by the back of his shirt, yanking him off before he can do any more damage—Rafe fights against his hold, barking threats at Pope as Kelce holds him back. ”STAY AWAY FROM HER, HEYWARD. STAY THE FUCK AWAY.”

You pout your lip, looking into Pope’s beautiful brown puppy dog eyes, blotting away the blood on his cheek. He sucks his teeth, eyes pinching shut in pain. "Well, that went about as well as expected,” Kie groans, giving JJ a side-eye as he glides his tongue along some paper, rolling up a joint.

“I had a great night. What are you talkin’ about?” JJ smiles, his lip split and bloody, one of his eyes swollen shut. You cup his cheek in your hand, looking back at him regretfully as you sigh.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow. Maybe we should have avoided the whole make-him-jealous thing. Don’t you think?”

“Our first mistake was listening to Maybank,” Pope whispers, making JJ scoff.

“Talkin’ shit… Damn, Pope. You’re on a roll tonight, baby. Didn't you throw the first punch too, man? Proud of you-”

”He did,” you answer for him, pressing the bandaid against his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that, Pope.”

“It was my pleasure, truly. I hate the guy. Got to say my piece. Got to get under his skin. Maybank was right. This is a great night,” he smiles. “Definitely worth a scrape or two.

“Or three…”

“Rafe deserves to hear all the shit he put you through… M’guessing you still wanna be with him?”

You shake your head ‘no,’ but the whole room knows you’re lying. “That's not true-”

“Liar, liar. Pants on fire,” JJ mutters through his exhale. “Very, very questionable taste in men but we've come to terms with it.”

“Have we?” John B laughs weakly, picking the joint off JJ’s fingers before resting it between his lips.

“I don't know... Kie was right all along. He’s a-”

“Walking red flag,” the room chants in unison.

“Mhmm… He is. He’s a mess,” you sigh.

“But…” JJ mocks you, waiting for you to continue the words you're too embarrassed to say aloud. I still want him.

“Ya know… He said that the three of us were “doing it.”

“Yo… It as in sex?” JJ blurts as he chokes on his smoke. “I am so in.” You roll your eyes and laugh, returning your attention to Pope again.

“Thank you for tonight.” He smiles at you sweetly, taking your hands in his.

“Anytime, Y/n-”

”Hey.” The five of you turn toward the noise as Zoey peers inside, searching the room before meeting your gaze. “Have you seen Paisley?” She asks worriedly.

“Uh, yeah,” Kie mumbles. “Cabin four with Trevor, what, like thirty minutes ago?”

“Oh,” Zoey giggles, putting two-and-two together. “Maybe I’ll give her a bit.”

Pope hops off the counter, wincing slightly as he adjusts his body to stand straight, his muscles aching. “Let me walk you to your cabin.” You smile and nod, taking his hand in yours.

The two of you walk down the row of cabins, the strain of the evening somehow lessened, leaving everything a little lighter. Pope pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. “Thank you again, Pope,” you mumble against his chest, listening to the soft pattering of his heart. “I’m sorry about all this.”

He breathes out a deep breath with you before shrugging and smiling warmly. “You’re my friend, y/n. And good news for you, I love you more than I hate him. So...”

“Love you too. You’re too good to me, Pope.”

“I know,” he grins as he rocks back on his heels, trying not to laugh. “If you need me, just holler, okay? Knowing Cameron he’s not done… Be careful with him.” Pope kisses your forehead before pulling back, looking down at you with a smile. “Have a great night.”

“You too.” You watch as Pope walks away, disappearing into the night toward his cabin. Reaching for your walkie-talkie, you pull it out of your pocket, lifting it to your lips. “Be safe,” you smile.

“I’ll be so safe,” he chuckles.

“Let me know when you get back. I don’t want you to get got by some slasher.”

”Stop, you’re scarin’ me,” he whimpers dramatically.

“Fuck!” You squeak as you're grabbed by your arm. You swing around, meeting Rafe’s gaze, slapping him across the cheek without a second thought. His face snaps to the side; hissing in pain.

“I deserve that,” he mutters before clearing his throat, returning his eyes to yours.

“I fucking hate you, Rafe,” you huff as you swerve around him, walking toward the stairs, but he grabs your arm, pulling you toward him again.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs as he backs you into the cold wooden wall of the cabin. It’s true… it’s not just lip service; I fucking hate him. I hate the way I can’t get over him, the way he’s constantly on my mind even when he treats me like absolute dog shit. I hate that I still like him. “Leave, Rafe.”

“Will you just stop? Please… I’m trying to talk to you. I've been trying to talk to you all day.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Why would I after everything you’ve done?” Rafe’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, towering over you, but he’s never been more powerless.

“I’m trying to make things right—”

“Make things right? Well you're shit at that, Rafe. Hurting me wasn't enough. You moved onto my friends?” You lift your hands, shoving him once, banging your fists against his chest next. “And for what, Rafe? Because you were angry? Because you wanted to prove something? You kept saying I'm yours? I never have been because of you. You didn't want me to be ‘til it was too late. Harassing me for months, then having the audacity to say ‘I belong to you’? Even when we were dating, you couldn't do that. Did you even see what you did to Pope?”

His eyes darken, jaw clenching. “I didn’t want to—”

“He never did anything to deserve that. He stood up for me and said nothing but the truth.” Rafe exhales sharply, looking at the ground as he searches for the right words. “Speak.”

“I was angry. Okay? You were trying to make me jealous. He - Fuck. He was provoking me.”

“Provoking you, Rafe? How?”

“Stop acting like you don’t know!” He shouts, his voice booming through the dim. The summer air hangs thick with tension as he steps closer, voice rising in desperation. “This isn’t some joke to me like it is to them, y/n. They think it’s funny, playing these games, dangling you in front of me to make me jealous. Kissing you, touching you like he did just to piss me off. Trying to make my life hell. I'm already there. I’m miserable!” His voice breaks with the bitterness and pain spilling out of him. “And there the pogues are, laughing at me, pushing me until I snapped. I didn't want to do that. All I wanted was to talk to you.”

“They didn’t make you do anything. You chose to snap. You decided to hurt people because you couldn’t handle your own shit, Rafe.”

“It’s impossible when I see you with other people—”

“And so you lashed out?” You ask, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not how you fix anything. You hurt people who care about me because you couldn’t control yourself.”

“This whole situation is pushing me and I can't fucking take it.”

“Yeah? Well, this situation, this mess… you made this on your own. Don’t you dare try to blame my friends or Pope for your misery.”

“Are you and Heyward really a thing? Really? I need to know. Alright?”

“You don't get to know. Leave me alone, Rafe.” You do your best to push him off of you, but he cages you in, looking down at you with begging eyes. “Leave. Me. Alone.” He shakes his head. ‘No,’ his jaw muscles coiled, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his emotion.

“I can’t…” He whispers. “I can’t leave you alone, y/n. I—I came to apologize. For everything. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did: tonight, here, this year… ever. I’m just—I’m so, so sorry, y/n.”

“That’s all you have? An apology?” You ask weakly. “We’re so far past this, Rafe. You know how much awful shit you’ve said to me just today?”

“I know. I know - god, I fucking know. I replay it over and over, y/n… I know I’ve been a jerk. Okay? I know I’ve screwed up more times than I can count. But I like you. I like you a lot. Then I fucked everything up and I didn’t know how to handle it, so I pushed you away. If I kept my distance and acted like I didn’t care, it would be easier for you and me, but it’s not. It’s killing me. I'm sorry, princess-”

“Stop.”

“No. Please just-”

“I said STOP!” You shout in frustration, loud enough to make him flinch. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Rafe. You’re leaving in the morning. It’s for the best.” Your words come out harsher than intended, making his tears slip down his cheeks. “I don’t want to do this with you anymore. The jabs to my heart, the bullying, the mixed signals—I’m fucking done, Rafe. I’m done with you. So just go. It’ll be easier if you’re gone. You're toxic and for some reason I can't get over you. So you gotta go. I want you to go. I’m sure you can’t fucking wait. Just give it a day or two. Huh? You’ll be back on campus; back to your old ways. Sleeping with some beautiful sorority girl and you’ll forget all about me and my priss ass.”

He looks at you blankly, taking in every word, falling apart in front of you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, like a broken record.

“I’d hope you’d be, Rafe.

His eyes soften on yours; nostrils flaring as he brushed the tear off his face. “Y’know, tomorrow when you wake up, I’ll be gone,” he whispers, voice cracking with sadness.

“I’m counting on it.”

[yuvany]

PAINT ME LIKE MONA LISA

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 with an artist!reader

OT7 ENHYPEN x fem!reader . . . CONTENT / WARNING(S) : fluff + est relationship + not proofread . . WORD COUNT : 812 . CHECK MARK !!

( REBLOGS + FEEDBACK APPRECIATED !! )

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

"Hee, don't move." You suddenly warn, your pencil balancing in between your fingers as you hold your palm up. "Please don't tell me a bomb is gonna detonate, babe." he jokes, and you chuckle, the sound of your pencil stratching the paper fills the room. "Are you drawing something?" He asks, and you hum. "Yup, wanna take a guess what i'm drawing?" You try to do this quickly while Heeseung is standing as still as he can. "Not sure. Care to tell me, pretty girl?" Heeseung itches his nose quickly, which goes unnoticed by you. "Obviously Mr.Handsome is my muse today."

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Saw you placing a bowl of fruit on the table, adjusting it and looking at it from all angles. Jay starts getting interested in what you're doing, so he gets closer to you from his hiding spot behind a corner. You hum delighted and return to your seat, but see Jay standing there. "Hello?" You ask with a chuckle. "Hey, sweetness. What's going on here?" Jay asked. "Nothing much, just an art project for school, they want us to do realism." You go on and explain the assignment. "So, like in the movies?" He asks, referring to how most movies use a bowl of fruits. You nod your head, and Jay gives you a kiss on the cheek for good luck.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Jake walks into your room and sees the painting resting on the floor, the paint still looking moist. It's like the canvas is whispering for him to come closer, because he does, his eyes observing each detail. Without noticing, Jake's finger gets closer to the canvas, brushing against the edge softly. "Aye! Don't touch!" You exclaimed upon entering your room and seeing him hunched on the floor. "sorry babe, but this is absolutely gorgous!" He says, a wide smile presenting itself on his lips. "Thank you, but you gotta be careful, babe." You laugh awkwardly, hunching down beside him to admire your art with him.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

He sees you pull out a sketch book and a pen, his eyes glued to the movement of your wrist. "Are you drawing me?" He asks with a smirk as he poses jokingly. "You wish." You chuckle and turn the block around so that he can get a view of it. Sunghoon takes a while to look over the rough sketch, and you start to wonder if he's actually observing it, or just zoning-out. You raise and eyebrow, and he says, "You know, I am a much better view than a simple window." He glides his arm around your waist and pulls you in. "I'm sure you are." You say, pressing you lips to the corner of his mouth.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

You and him went to an art museum, his hands holding yours while you take your time to watch each exhibition before either taking a picture, which Sunoo knoows you'll use later as reference, or pulling out a small piece of paper form your bag and a pencil as you sketch the art while explaining the history behind the artworks. "That's really interesting." He says, and follows you around while you repeat the pattern of taking a photo, sketching and explaining. "Imagine if they one day put up your art, angel." he says in awe, and you reply, "then I'll tell them that the history of it is my love for you."

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

He sees you curled up in bed with your art block on the bed as you sketch on it lazily while laying down, waiting for inspiration to flow into your head. Jungwon sees you through the door when he walks by, and walks back to make sure of what he saw. Naturally he walks in, catching your attention. You hum at the sight of him and he plops onto the floor after grabbing a pencil from your desk causing yiu to stop drawing and look at him confused. So far, you've only drawn sunflowers and fishes very sloppily. Jungwon sees them and tries to copy the best he could, but let's just say he did his best. "That's a cute one." You giggle, seeing his attempt.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

Your first date with him was an artistic and creative one. He took you to an art cafe and challanged you to a paiting conset, but he underestimated you and drew a nice sunset instead, confident that he'd win the bet easily. "Times up!" He says with a smirk, and you smile brightly and let go off the brush. "Do you wanna go first?" You ask, and Riki shrugs. "Alright, but be prepared to be blown away." You clap the sight of his scenery, and he urges you to show yours. As you turn the canvas to him, his jaw drops and you chuckle. "So what do I win?" you ask after he was done gaping. "How about a kiss?" He asks, and delivers.

[elliesplug]

smoking w logan...

logan howlett x reader, friends to lovers

summary: the stress of being a new professor at this school is catching up to you. luckily, you have a good friend to help you take that stress away, in more ways than one.

warnings: weed usage, fem compliments, illusions to sex

word count: 2, 574

I’m fairly new to this school. About 4 months had passed since I had first gotten my invitation from Charles. Which, of course, I happily accepted, excited at the thought of teaching my favorite subjects to people like me. I get the opportunity to share my love of literature through my teachings. The class seems to like me so far, and there’s always a few students straggling behind after class to share a laugh. Being able to connect to my students like this is a treat, and working at this school is just the cherry on top.

The classroom I teach in just so happens to be right across from Professor Howlett's room. His creaky wooden door opens and closes in between classes every period. Being right across from each other means that he and I frequently see each other. Logan often takes advantage of this opportunity to visit the classroom. He’ll do things like bring me coffee, give me papers that I copied off the printer, or just have a little chat. Sometimes, when he's on missions, I'll often sub for his class. It fills me with content to know that Logan trusts me with the care of his class. Being new to the school, I’m highly afraid of what the other professors think of me, but these small interactions with Logan take all of my insecurities away.

“There’s my favorite literature teacher right there!” Logan says with a smile, interrupting my lesson. Interactions like this were common between Logan and I, but every time they happened, the classroom went ballistic. The nosy students love to engage in Logan’s and I's friendship.

“I’m the only literature teacher here, Logan.” I respond with a blank stare, trying to hide my laugh.

“You’ll always be my favorite, though!” The man tells me with a wink before entering his own classroom to return to his teachings. I try to hide my smile and attempt to quickly pull the attention back to my lesson. This interaction made my whole class gasp and snicker.

“Ooo your boyfriend says that you're his favorite!” A student yells, resulting in the whole class to chuckle.

I giggle at their immaturity. “Alright, alright, there's no need for that. Let's get back to Pride and Prejudice now, please?”

Before I know it, the day is done. I stayed behind grading like usual. Lately, I've been so behind in my classwork that I haven't had any time to myself. As a new teacher, I feel as though I have so much to prove, and I have a strong fear of letting everyone down.

A red pen marks a check across my paper as I continue to grade another assignment. My ears are met with the sound of a knock on my door.

“What are you up to here, pretty? It's 7:45 and the sun set hours ago. All the kids are probably just about finished with dinner. You need to get your ass outta here.” Logan tells me as he leans against the doorframe.

I take a quick break from grading to look at the clock on the wall of my class. “Its 7 already? Shit I didn't even notice. I'm just grading some things right now, like always. Seems like that's all I ever do.” I respond with a chuckle, not even lifting my head up to look at him.

Logan comes behind me and begins to rub small circles on my shoulders, massaging out any tension in my body. His presence alone fills me with comfort. The knots in my back loosen with every soft touch.

“Pride and Prejudice, huh?” Logan says as he notices the papers on my desk.

“Yeah I bet your old ass was there when it was written.”

“Haha. You're very funny.” He replies in a sarcastic tone. “Damn with all these knots in your back, I gotta ask if you've been sleeping on a pile of rocks? Who's stressing you out like this?”

A sigh escapes my lips, “I don't wanna sound like I'm complaining or anything because I'm more than happy that I get to work here…it's just…all these papers are really stacking up on me…”

He continues to break up the knots in my back. Another red X on my paper. Then I feel Logan leaning down to whisper something into my ear. “Y'know with all this stress… I think you deserve a little somethin’. Lucky for you, I just went to town and restocked for us.”

I finally take a break from hunching over my papers and turn to him with a smile, already knowing what he had planned. “You don't say, Professor Howlett?”

“Yes ma’am. Got it right in my room. How bout we roll up and then after I'll help you with your papers? We can get 'em all done, even if it takes all night I'll stay here and finish for you. Promise.”

The gesture warms my heart. “That sounds perfect,” a groan leaves my lips, the stress escaping with it, “I appreciate that so much you don't even understand.”

“Yeah yeah, now c'mon and go roll cause you know I'm shit.”

We make our way down the long dimly lit halls to his room and quickly close the door behind us. Logan and I have been smoking together ever since he found me alone with a joint late at night, during one of the first weeks I was here. I'm surprised he even found me because I was hiding out on the roof of the school. Knowing him, he must've sniffed me out, hoping to get some. He told me he wouldn't snitch to Charles if he could smoke with me. I know that he wouldn't have told me either way, but I happily invited his company, especially since I wasn't familiar with anyone here yet.

These late night smoke sessions made our relationship grow stronger. We would hop from topic to topic as the smoke left our lips. Sometimes, covering our childhood, our favorite shows, war stories, gossip, and then laughing to the point of tears the next moment. He found out where I buy from, and ever since that day, he has refused to let me buy my own weed. I tried to tell him that he didn't have to do that, and he said that as long as I rolled for him, then he didn't mind.

He told me that the singular time he attempted to roll it was to impress this girl. He ended up unsuccessful, to say the least. The joint ended up covered in spit with half of the weed on the floor. By the time he told me the end of that story, my face was covered in tears of laughter. This is when I knew that this would be the beginning of a genuine friendship.

The joint is finally finished as I seal it with my tongue. Logan and I only smoke together when it's late at night and everyone is in their own respective spaces. Sneaking around like I'm a kid hiding the fact that they smoke from their parents is honestly kind of fun. It fills me up with just the right amount of adrenaline, and I'm happy that Logan is the one beside me.

We make our way to the roof, and the bright moon greets us. The night sky is clear and filled with gorgeous constellations. The chilling breeze of the night tickles my skin as I take a seat. Of course I forgot to bring a jacket. I try to hide my shiver and lessen the sound of my chattering teeth, but Logan quickly notices. He shifts to take off his brown leather jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. The warmth of his body heat was still trapped in the jacket, and it quickly comforted my senses.

“Logan, you're gonna be cold.” I pleaded.

“ I'll be just fine. Can't have you freezing to death now. Then I won't have anyone to roll for me.” He jokes.

I let out a chuckle as I took the joint out of his coat. Logan holds the lighter to the joint and cups his hands in order to hide the wind from the fire. The lighter makes a clink sound and sparks. The comforting scent fills up my nose as I take a huff. I release the smoke with a happy sigh.

“God, I needed this so much you wouldn't even understand.” I responded. My attention rests on the beautiful night stars.

I passed it to him after a few more hits. Our fingers touch, the feeling heats me up. No matter how cold it is, Logan always manages to stay hot. The joint gives me the courage to rest my head on Logan’s shoulder. The joint lets out a small sizzle as he takes a big inhale.

“Trust me, I know, sweetheart. You've been frantic all week, and I notice it even though you're damn good at hiding it.” He takes another hit in between sentences. “Plus,” Logan then suddenly takes my cold hands and intertwines my fingers with his own, “you bite your nails like crazy when you get stressed.” I look down at our joined hands in shock, trying to contain how much this is affecting me. I quickly bring my attention back to the stars in an attempt to hide my emotions. Logan and I have always shared these small touches but nothing as romantic or intimate as this before, and definitely not for this long. The tension between us has always been there, but it's easier to ignore it than shed a light on it.

The smoke leaves his lips before he passes it to me again. “Yeah I know. It's always been a bad habit of mine when I get a little anxious.” I take the j up to my lips with a long drag. With each hit, I hope that it will make my nerves melt away.

Suddenly, a soft peck is laid on my hand. This action draws my attention away from the shimmering constellations. I'm greeted with kind hazel eyes staring back at me. Logan's gaze is intense as he pays attention to my reaction. “You can't keep doing that. You know it's bad for you.” He gently tells me. Logan’s lips attach to my hand as he lays another peck. He does this as if he could take my stress away with a single kiss.

My attention is drawn to his lips as I watch him slowly drop our hands. His red glassy eyes never left my own, which were magnetized to his lips like magnets. He has me right where he wants me, and I'm more than happy to be here. I have him right where I need him. Logan’s passionate gaze leaves my breath shaky and my body fuzzy. The air is thick, and the nerves aren't going away.

“You're babysitting the joint. Are you gonna hit it or just keep holding it, darling?” He asks me, breaking me out of my thoughts. Logan always looks good, but he especially looks good when he stares at me with those low hanging glossy eyes.

“What? Oh yeah! Sorry about that, here.” I let out a breathy giggle as I passed him the joint.

He simply responds with a laugh before inhaling the smoke. Logan knows what he's doing to me. He's pulling my strings like a puppet, and I'm loving every minute of it.

In an attempt to break up the tension, I turn to Logan. ��Enough about me. How are your classes going? It must get tough balancing missions and classes sometimes. I don't know how you do it, to be honest.”

“Yeah it can get you worked up a little. I've been doing it for a while now, though, so it's definitely less of a hassle than it used to be. Some missions still knock you out, though.”

“Yeah I can only imagine how that must be. Some of the missions you've told me about are absolutely insane. Can't believe you come back from all that and still teach, too."

“Well it helps when you have a pretty literature teacher holding it down while you're gone.”

I smile up at him as a laugh escapes my lips. “My God, Logan, what is up with you tonight! You got a little crush on me or something?”

“Pshhh. Don't get a big head now. You're a cocky little thing, aren't you?”

“I might be cocky but you're the one adding fuel to the fire.” I responded. The effects of the weed are hitting me strongly. My relaxation brings me the confidence to take his hand and hold the joint up to my lips. I keep eye contact with him as I draw in the smoke. He smirks down at me as a result of the action.

“Y'know I've been thinking…”

I cut him off, “Oh no, that's never good”

He looks at me with a face of fake annoyance. “With all of this stress you've got going on, it would be nice to escape for a bit. Get away from these kids for a day and hit the town on the weekend. Maybe even get some dinner.”

“Wait a minute…are you asking me out, Professor?’ I ask him with a smile on my face.

“That depends on your answer, Professor.”

“I think I can fit some time in my very busy calendar for little ‘ol Logan.”

“Aww how sweet of you.” He jokes back.

He holds the joint up to my lips and watches as I breathe in the smoke. Any kind of anxiety I had before is gone now. The air shifts and is now filled with a different kind of tension. Stars reflect in Logan’s red eyes. I stare back at him as his eyes follow my lips. I'm filled with happiness to know that he wants this just as much as me. A soft hand cups my jaw as he brings his head closer to mine. My nose is filled with the scent of Logan and weed. Our warm breaths entangle each other in the cold night.

“Gimme some.” He tells me.

I release the smoke from my lips, and he quickly attaches his lips to mine. He inhales my smoke and quickly unlocks his lips from mine, exhaling the smoke.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Anytime.” I whisper back. My heart is beating out of my chest. Everything he does to me heats up my soul. That familiar fuzzy feeling greets me in between my thighs. Logan is getting tired of restraining himself, and it's easy to tell. I'm sure he can hear the way my heart erupts for him. I love this game he's playing.

Just then, he takes his hand and guides it to the back of my neck. Looking into my eyes for reassurance, I respond with a nod. Just like that, he kisses me. The kiss is strong and concentrated. Everything about the way he moves tells me that he's been wanting this for a while. His kisses are sloppy in all the right ways. Logan flicks the joint off the roof without a second thought, knowing that he has something much more valuable in his hands. He gladly explores my body and groans into my mouth with pleasure.

Logan and I most definitely didn't get around to grading those papers that night.

[mancalledvenus]

you think i'm pretty?

nishinoya yuu x reader

summary: you and nishinoya are paired together for a class assignment that leads to you asking him for volleyball tips and him asking for your number ^_<

word count: 1.4k

a/n: not proofread and written at 1am so sorry if it's a tough read lmfao i'm trying to clean out my drafts. thank you for reading !

the school day had dragged on for longer than usual. you sighed as you slumped into your seat for the last class of the day: psychology. the course was probably designed specifically to drain your energy and spoil your mood. that’s what it felt like at least.

your teacher droned on about his weekend for a full ten minutes before announcing to the class he'd be pairing you randomly with one of your peers for the next presentation.

you felt your body start to fill with dread. internally praying you didn't get stuck with someone lazy that made you do all the heavy lifting. you listened carefully for your name as the teacher called them out.

"y/n l/n, you'll be working with nishinoya yuu." he gestured to the boy in the back of the class with his head down on the desk that was clearly not paying attention.

"great." you thought to yourself as you shuffled through the room to the back.

his head snapped up as he heard footsteps coming his way, but relaxed a bit when he realized you weren't the teacher. he sat up fully and leaned back in his chair, giving you a clear view of his face. as you examined his features and sat down in front of him it registered in your head that this was the same boy that played the libero position on your school's volleyball team.

reluctantly you decided to ask him about it. being in volleyball yourself you'd always been curious about his skill and took it as an opportunity.

"are.. are you on the boy's volleyball team?"

his eyes widened and he smiled as he answered your question, "yeah are you a fan?"

you scoffed a little and shook your head, "not exactly, but i've seen you play. i'm the libero for the girls team."

nishinoya had finally seemed to shake off his forced laid-back persona and was noticeably more energetic than before. a side of him that you'd recognized from when you peaked into the boy's gym on more than one occasion while they practiced. even though you told everyone you were there to pick up tips from more 'skilled' players, deep down a part of you kept returning to see the cute boy in the #4 jersey.

"that's awesome! i always see you in here and our chemistry class. had no idea you were into volleyball."

you shrugged and glanced down, "i dunno, i'm kinda new to the team still. i'm not that confident in my skills yet."

nishinoya frowned at your tone and shook his head, "it takes a lot of courage to just step on the court and play. if you're gonna be a good libero you have to make sure you're dependable. you can't be reliable if you're second guessing yourself like that!"

you nodded to yourself silently before looking back up at him. the look on his face was enough to encourage you in of itself. the reassurance from this, well stranger basically, gave you a great feeling of relief and you were starting to feel less burdened with worry.

"that's definitely something to consider," you sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, "still our team is kindaaa... underdeveloped? we're not bad, it's just like we're still figuring everything out, y'know?"

"ohh, yeah i get that." he nodded.

"i wish we had someone with more experience so they could guide me a little or something."

nishinoya nearly jumped out of his seat to lean closer to your face. "i could totally help you!" the volume of his voice caused the pair sitting near you to glare at you both a little irritated, but you didn't notice and neither did he. "i'm so down to help you out- especially if it'll benefit the team too! you guys gotta rep us at the girl's tournaments.. i didn't catch your name also, i'm so sorry."

"it's y/n," you laughed at his enthusiasm. "i wouldn't wanna burden you too much, but that sounds like a lot of fun."

"please, i'd be lucky to get to play with someone as pretty as you. i'm getting sick of my teammate's faces honestly."

you laughed again and bit the inside of your cheek trying to withhold an uncontrollable smile.

"you think i'm pretty?"

nishinoya's face turned red. he had a habit of running his mouth without thinking and even though he'd flirted with girls relentlessly before, something about you made him extremely flustered. maybe it was the way you'd been staring into his eyes? the way you’d been listening to him so attentively as he was talking?

god you’d barley said a few sentences to him and you were already making him sweat. how come he hadn’t noticed how close you were until a few seconds ago? was he really that zoned out talking about volleyball?

"i.. uhm, i mean.." he tensed up with his arms glued to his sides, "you can't really blame me for saying it, you're gorgeous.."

"wow he's forward." you thought quietly, still processing what he'd said. there was nothing but silence from the two of you and all you could focus on was how your heart clenched every time his eyes connected with your's.

unable to talk without stuttering all you could offer him in that moment was a flustered smile which he returned with a quiet laugh. gaining more coincidence he finally broke the silence, "y/n?"

just as you were about to recover from his previous remark, him saying your name was enough to completely knock you back off your feet.

"..yeah?"

"would you let me take you out sometime?"

"FUUCKKK HE'S SO CUTE." you raved internally. you got swept up in your thoughts again before panic started to settle in at the realization that you needed to actually reply to him.

blushing and astonished at his sudden bold behavior, what was intended to be words came out as a collection of incoherent mumbles, "you- wha.. you? you and me? imeanthatwouldn't- i.. serious.. really?"

"i'll take that as a maybe," he chuckled and grabbed his pen from off his notebook, "if that's too much of a commitment could i at least get your number?"

the stupid shit-eating grin on his face gave the impression he knew exactly what your next actions would be; and he did. you reached across the desk for the pen he held out to you and shyly smiled to yourself as you began to write your number on the back of his other hand he had stretched out to you as well. you gripped it softly and etched the numbers on his skin.

the minute you finished writing he pulled his hand to his face swiftly. his eyes practically twinkling in excitement as he admired your penmanship.

his eagerness as he whipped his phone out of his pocket and began copying the numbers made you giggle, "why didn't you just hand me your phone in the first place, silly?"

"honestlyy," he began and you rolled your eyes realizing he was about to say something annoyingly charming and dumb, "i really only wanted you to hold my hand.. at the end of the day i am a simple man." the threw his hands up as he explained himself.

"you're so stupid." you held his pen in your teeth to chew on the cap. "i'm keeping your pen for that."

"i'll give you every pen i can find if that's all it costs."

you blushed a bright shade of pink and pushed his head down so he's looking downward at the desk, "n-nishinoya. we haven't started the assignment." you brushed his comment off and tried desperately to get him to pay attention to the papers sprawled across his desk.

the remainder of the class was him flirting with you and you trying not to completely lose your shit while also trying to get your work done (you guys didn't even finish reading the instructions).

______________________________________________________________

after school during the boy's practice.

"TANAKA. I DID IT I GOT HER NUMBER!!" noya nearly ran over hinata and yamaguchi running to find his friend.

tanaka's eyes followed the sound of the familiar voice to find noya rushing through the door, "Huh, who's? ..Y/N'S?"

"YEAH!! i played it sooo cool too. i pretended to not know her name and everything! seriously, every time she looked at me i almost died. her smile bro- her smile is sooo pretty-"

"prettier than mine?" tanaka smiled and folded his arms while listening to his rambling.

"don't interrupt me!" noya huffed before continuing, "she plays volleyball! did you know? god i got her number!"

"it was about time my man!" the two shook hands as their giddy shouts echoed throughout the gym.

almost immediately they were shushed by ukai for being too loud then scolded again by daichi then laughed at by yamaguchi and tsukishima, but in that moment nothing anyone could say to him would put a dent in nishinoya's mood.

______________________________________________________________

the end !

[mrypotter]

Flowers Upon Your Head

Draco x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader officially crowns the Slytherin Prince of Hogwarts, but what she doesn’t expect is to be crowned his princess. (Not real crowns, but made of flowers.)

Warnings: Talk about praising someone, like hailing them, self doubts in academic work, nothing else I know of.

Sorry if it’s too short; but it’s gotta be one of my favorites besides “Dear Draco”.

Dear Draco

Masterlist

Request Requirements (they’ve been updated!)

The sky was bright blue, sun rays shining bright across all the land of Hogwarts, showcasing the wondrous school that held many intelligent students; now either learning more knowledge or taking their assigned time off.

Two green robes were taking the second option to their best advantage: staying outside in the fresh air and catching up on work.

The both lay on the grass by the Black Lake, the boy leaning against the tree trunk and the girl sitting criss cross next to him.

The boy, platinum blonde hair and known as the bully of the school, had his Potions homework in front of him on his lap. His quill scribbled left and right as he wrote an essay.

The girl, known as the most innocent person in the world who wouldn’t hurt a fly, was previously done with her homework and is now fiddling (or, at least, that’s the word Draco would use to describe what she was doing) with flowers in her hand, tying the stems together to make something the boy didn’t know.

She was well concentrated until she heard a groan escape the boy, her eyes moving from the flower stems to him, raising an eyebrow questionably.

He didn’t look up as did she, instead he was having a glare contest with the paper as he tapped his quill quite frustratingly.

“What’s another word for fragile?”

She thought for a moment, going back to the plants in her hand once she discovered his groan was the reason of nothing serious.

“Delicate? Brittle?” She asked once figuring it out, fingers slightly burning from now finishing the tie of the stems, the nectar from the flowers getting on her fingertips as the stems were tightly wrapped around her hands.

He hummed. “Brittle is good.”

She smiled soft, glad she could help in some way. “Is the essay coming along nicely?”

He chuckled. “With the amount of skill I have in the writing spectrum and your vocabulary, I think it’s going quite well.”

She rolled her eyes this time, knowing he was being sarcastic with the statement he said about himself.

“Dray, don’t worry; I read it during lunch and it looked fine so far. That is if you didn’t ruin it with what you call last minute edits.”

Her teasing tone grabbed a smirk from him that she didn’t see.

She wasn’t mindful of the next occurrence because she was in fact focused on the finishing touches of her crown, but his ears turned from pale to a soft pink color at the nickname.

He scoffed instead to cover it up even though she didn’t see it. “Doubt it.”

She sighed, knowing there was no use in trying to convince him the work was good grade worthy.

He suddenly slapped the paper down in front of her on the grass. “How does this look?”

Despite the aggression he showed in his actions she could hear a little anxiousness in his voice. He was nervous for her reaction.

She still had the flowers in her hands so she didn’t touch the paper in fear of getting things on it, so instead of holding them in front of her she moved them so they were by her shoulder and she looked down at the paper.

Draco’s handwriting covered the paper, perfect cursive with soft swoops in the letters forming great work.

Her eyes scanned it as she read, taking in the information he provided.

She hummed in satisfaction. “Very nice, Dray. Very nice.”

She smiled at him as he took the paper back, this time noticing the pink tint on the tip of his ears.

“You okay?” She asked, oblivious to the reason for his flush.

He nodded, swallowing thickly.

She hummed again, turning her body fully to him. “Don’t worry! Snape will love it. I see it now,” she started, pretending to look of into the distance like she was dreaming. “An ‘Outstanding’!”

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Wouldn’t go that far with it but whatever.”

She scoffed at his negative mindset and, wiping her hands on the grassy ground to get rid of the nectar, grabbed the crown she just previously made. She then turned the scoff on her face to a soft reassuring smile.

“Well, whatever you may think, I think it was wonderful and the good grade I know you’ll get is well deserved.”

She ended her sentence with softly placing the crown on his platinum head, the soft white petals perfectly matching the mob of hair he held.

Draco’s eyes moved upward as if he would be able to see the flowers on his head. The girl laughed, then she smiled once again.

“All hail the Slytherin Prince.” She joked. She expected another eye roll but instead received a soft smirk coming from the corner of his lips, a small chuckle escaping him.

She then moved to sit next to him, their shoulders brushing and cheeks flushing.

His soft looking hands reached out and using his long fingers pulled flower after flower out of the tall grass, each stem producing a satisfying snap when they broke.

Although she kinda felt bad for the flowers, she knew that the roots were still planted into the ground, so that gave her reassurance knowing they’d grow back again.

Still she watched as his own hands messily tied the stems together almost just like she did. When he was finished, his arm reached up as he placed it on her head, the weight of it slightly flattening the top of her hair.

He then leaned in, brushing his nose on her cheek; her face turning a soft tone of red. His head turned so his lips touched her ear lightly. The touch was barely felt, but it was there.

“All hail the Slytherin Princess.”

He whispered it, making the meaning much more meaningful. A soft chill went through her, a warm sense of comfort and nervousness at the same time racing down her spine.

“How’d you know how to tie it?” She asked curiously to hide the nervous warmth flooding through her. She felt his cheeks spread into a smile.

“I watch you, loves; much more than you think.”

Her face flushed as his finger gently booped her nose.

He chuckled low right in her ear. “Aww, don’t get flustered loves; just giving my princess the praise and recognition she deserves.”

Wait.

‘My Princess’?

Thank you for reading! 📖

[sunday-bug]

Friday Night Flirts

Pairing: College Student!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Content: flirty banter, somewhat grumpy reader x sunshine Bucky, Bucky is your brother's roommate, mild smut, no explicit sex, but definitely suggestive

Synopsis: Your brother’s roommate, Bucky, turns out to be more than just an annoyance - a study session turns into a bit more.

A/N: my entry for @avengers-assemble-bingo for AA Spring Bingo

Prompt/Square: "Roommates"/3

Card Number: AAS002

Fucking Colin. Always hungover. Always late for class. He’d flunk out if it weren’t for you, his dutiful twin sister. The golden child. You rap on the dorm door three times. 

An irritated groan comes from the other side. “Colin! Open up you dumbass!” You raise your fist and start banging more aggressively, bringing your fist back and letting it fly forward as the door swings open. Your fist meets a chest… a hard chest. Definitely not your brother’s chest.

“Good morning, sunshine,” an unfamiliar voice bellows. Your eyes meet the stranger’s.

“Who are you?” You ask, annoyed, as you scoot past him to throw a bag of Advil, Pedialyte, and a breakfast burrito at your brother. “Drink this, take three Advil, and eat that. And stop getting smashed on school nights, idiot.”

“Your girl is a buzzkill,” the tall stranger says to your brother. 

“Ew, she’s my sister, bro,” he spits out, taking a big drink of the Pedialyte. 

“Again, who the hell are you?” You ask him.

“I’m Bucky,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“He just transferred in. Got assigned to be my roommate. Knows all the good party places,” Colin explains, taking a tiny bite of burrito.

“Lovely. That’s just what you need,” you say sarcastically to your brother.

“You seem like you could use some fun,” Bucky chortles. “Relax. He’s fine.”

You snort, “Clearly. He’s hungover to Heaven on a Wednesday morning.” You look at your brother and see his face has turned ashen, a sheen of sweat covering his face.

“I’m gonna-“ he starts, running out the hall presumably to puke.

“Great,” you mutter, shaking your head, looking at Colin’s pile of textbooks and schoolwork on his desk. Your eyes turn to Bucky’s side of the room and you notice his unmade bed, unsurprisingly clean desk, and a poster of a band you like.

He notices you looking at the poster. “They’re a prog metal band,” he offers. “I’m sure you haven’t heard of them.”

Your eyes flit to him in irritation. “I saw them in the city last summer, actually. One of my favorites.”

“You?” He asks incredulously. “You don’t seem like…”

“Go on, what’s your first impression of me?” You press, arms folding over your chest.

“Prissy,” he admits with a laugh. “High strung. Bit of a ball buster.”

“How sweet,” you reply, rolling your eyes. You give him your name and introduce yourself properly. “I’m Colin’s twin sister. Linguistics major. Certified ball buster. Allegedly a priss. Just looking out for my brother.”

Bucky laughs and follows your lead. “I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky. Fine arts major. Certified in motorcycle safety. Allegedly great in bed. Just making sure my new roommate has a good time.”

“You’re trouble,” you mutter, exasperated.

“And you look like you could use some,” he smirks, taking a step closer to you. 

“I assure you that I can find trouble without you as a tour guide, Bucky,” you offer, relaxing your arms at your side.

“I like how you say my name,” he utters, moving closer still.

“If you think you’re being charming, it’s not working,” you whisper.

His eyes move over your body quickly before meeting yours again. “You might want to tell your body to catch up with your mind then. It’s giving you away, darlin'."

You furrow your brow and look down, seeing your peaked nipples poking through your thin T-shirt. You cross your arms again, covering your breasts. “I’m just cold.”

“Just cold,” he repeats with a smirk, looking down at his watch. “I gotta get to class.”

You feel the smallest tug of disappointment in your gut, but steel yourself with snark. “Of course. You wouldn’t want that 2.0 GPA to slip!”

Bucky gathers a sketchbook, a few books, and sticks a pencil behind his ear. He puts his hand on the door to leave. “3.8 actually,” he offers with a smile before taking off. 

Colin walks back in a few moments later, looking a bit better. “You missed your first class,” you say. “Don’t miss the next one, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, curling into his bed. “I set my alarm. I got it.”

“Okay, see you later,” you say before leaving his dorm. 

—

It's Friday night. You have your planner on your desk and all of your assignments for the upcoming week laid out. Your roommate is going home for the weekend so you have your dorm to yourself to study and get ahead. Your phone pings.

Colin: I think I left my wallet in ur purse 

You’d gone to the gym together and for a bite to eat last night and remember him throwing it in your bag. You check your purse and find it. 

You: Yeah, I have it. When will you be here?

Colin: Can u bring it to me? I gotta shower

You huff, annoyed. 

You: Fine. Be there in 5.

You throw a sweatshirt over your bra and bike shorts, grab your purse, and trek to his dorm. At least it was nice outside. The door to his room is cracked when you get there so you knock once and enter. 

“Hi, sunshine,” a familiar voice bellows. Bucky is standing by his bed, shirtless and glistening, a towel slung low on his hips. “My eyes are up here,” he teases.

You scoff, “Where’s Colin?”

“Just left to shower. What’s up?”

“I have his wallet,” you say, reaching into your purse and walking over to set it on your brother’s desk.

“Do you keep tabs on his spending too?” Bucky teases.

“He left it in my bag, asshole,” you mutter, watching him rifle through his closet. 

“You know I’m teasing you, right? You’re cute when you get all riled up,” he smirks, picking out a blue t-shirt and throwing it on his bed. He assesses your casual outfit. “Don’t tell me you’re staying in on a Friday night.”

You look down at your sweatshirt and shorts and swallow. “I have a lot of studying-“

Colin storms back into the dorm at that moment, hands raised in glee. “She texted me, bro!”

“No shit?” Bucky asks, high-fiving your brother. 

“She wants to go out tonight,” Colin says. “I know we were gonna-“

Bucky cuts him off, “Go out with her, man. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something to do.”

“Okay, man. Thanks,” he says, toweling off his hair. You plop down on Colin’s desk chair, swiveling around and snooping through his notes and textbooks as he gets dressed, pockets his wallet, and rushes out the door. 

You laugh and stand up. “Good for him. Guess I’ll see ya around.”

“Wait,” Bucky starts. “Don’t go.”

You raise your eyebrows, hand on the doorknob. “Don’t go?”

“I mean, do you wanna do something tonight? With me?” He asks quietly, still in a towel. Your mind goes back to your solo study session in your dorm. 

“I really was planning to study,” you say. 

“Can I make a suggestion?” He asks, pulling a pair of sweats from a drawer. 

“Um, sure?”

“What if I study with you, and then we do something fun?”

“You want to study with me? On a Friday night?”

“And then we’ll do something fun, yes,” he clarifies.

“I already have all of my stuff set up in my dorm, though,” you mutter. 

“So we’ll study there,” he says nonchalantly.

“Oh, um, okay,” you agree. “I’ll just wait in the hall so you can get dressed,” you say, slipping out into the hallway. You scroll mindlessly on your phone while you wait for Bucky. He slips out after a couple minutes, sketchpad in hand and you breathe in. “Did you put cologne on? To study?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “What? I can’t smell nice?”

You smile to yourself and nudge off the wall, leading the way to your dorm. “Let’s go.”

The walk back to your room is odd. People look at you, or rather, at you walking with Bucky. He seems to know everyone, despite recently transferring in. 

“You, uh, you make friends pretty easily, huh?” You ask.

“I’m a nice guy,” he shrugs. “Not my fault you’re antisocial.”

“I’m not antisocial, asshole. I’m… shy,” you clarify, realizing how lame that sounds. You open the door to your building and the RA at the front desk’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull at the sight of you with Bucky. You wave and head up to your room. It’s not that you’ve never had a boy in your room, but maybe not a boy of Bucky’s… caliber. 

“I take it your roommate actually enjoys her Friday nights,” he quips as you let him into your empty dorm room.

“She went home for the weekend. And for your information, I do enjoy my Friday nights.”

“Do you have a speaker?” He asks, ignoring your rebuttal, scrolling through Spotify. You nod to the small speaker on your desk and watch him pick a playlist.

A familiar song plays and you smirk. “I like this one.”

“Me too,” he says, perusing your books and study materials. “Looks serious.”

“It can be,” you offer. “What do you need to work on?”

“Just a few sketches for my still life class.” He takes off his shoes and sits on your bed, getting comfortable quickly as he opens his sketchpad. You watch him stick his tongue between his teeth in concentration and can’t help but smile as you sit down at your desk. Propping your legs up on your desk, you lean back and read from your textbook, making highlights over important passages. You hear Bucky flip the page of his sketchbook, sigh, and the sound of pencil on paper. After a half hour or so, you readjust your position and hear his pencil stop moving. He clears his throat.

“Can I see?” You ask, eyeing his sketch pad.

“Um…”

“No pressure,” you say, waving off the question. 

“You can see,” he says sheepishly, turning the sketchpad to you. It takes you a split second to recognize yourself on the paper in the same sweatshirt you’re wearing now, bare legs propped up on your desk, a book in your lap. Your eyes flit from the drawing to him and then back. 

“So, you’re really good,” you say with a small laugh. 

“I’m okay,” he offers with a shrug. “I had to miss a class this week, so I’m working on extra credit.”

“What did you miss?” You ask.

The slightest blush blooms on the apples of his cheeks. “The nude model.”

“Ah,” you say quietly. “So you thought my bare legs might suffice?”

“I, uh, I should have asked before I started sketching. I’m sorry,” he says, closing his book. 

You realize he thinks you’re upset. “No, Bucky, it’s fine. Really. It’s a lovely drawing. It’s flattering, actually, to see how someone else sees me.”

He swallows, “Yeah, well you’re not exactly hard to look at.”

It’s your turn to blush. You feel your entire body heat, and suddenly your dorm feels very small and hot. You shut your textbook and shed your sweatshirt. “Sorry, it’s warm in here.”

Bucky eyes your bra and shorts combo - you normally don’t think much of it, as it’s something you wear to the gym regularly, but it’s like he’s undressing you with his eyes. And you’re so okay with it. “It’s okay,” he breathes. The way his eyes darken uncoils something inside of you and you make a decision.

“We’ve studied,” you start, “and you mentioned doing something fun after, but I just wouldn’t feel right if you didn’t get full points for your extra credit assignment.” You stand up and walk to your bed. “Don’t you think?”

Bucky smirks nervously. “What are you suggesting?” 

“Sit at my desk, and I’ll show you,” you say. Your heart is slamming in your chest, but the way he’s looking at you is making you feel bold as hell and like you want to prove his assumptions about you wrong. He gets up and sits in your desk chair and you take his place on your bed. His cologne lingers and goosebumps rise on your skin. You arrange your pillows so you’re lying down but facing him. “Draw me.”

The smallest smile paints his face and he shakes his head slightly, turning to a fresh page in his sketchbook and pulling the pencil from behind his ear into his hand. “Put your foot up on the headboard,” he directs you, taking your ankle gently in his hand and planting it where he wants it. His touch - the first time he’s actually touched you - feels like fire. 

“Wait,” you say. “This isn’t right.” 

His head falls. “I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable-”

You cut him off and sit up. “No, it’s not that,” you say. “You said you missed the nude modeling class, so…” You pull your bra over your head, freeing your breasts. A small noise escapes Bucky’s throat and you smile as you remove your bike shorts, leaving you in your underwear. You lie back on the bed as he instructed before, one foot on the headboard, the other planted on the mattress. You bring one hand up over your head and rest the other on your ribcage. 

“How’s this?” You ask, finally looking into his eyes. His throat bobs as his eyes travel up and down your nearly naked form. 

“Fucking lush,” he whispers. “You’re perfect.”

You smile and move your hand up from your ribcage to your breast, brushing over your hardened bud. 

“Oh, fuck, don’t do that,” he breathes, closing his eyes. “I won’t be able to concentrate.”

You giggle and put your hand back in a safe place. “Okay, I’ll behave. Go ahead and sketch. I’ll stay still.”

He smiles and looks down at his sketchpad, stroking the first lines of your form across the page. A slow, sultry song comes over the speaker and he clears his throat, adjusting the notebook in his lap. The air conditioning kicks on after a few minutes of him sketching and the cool breezes from the vents licks across your bare skin, making your nipples peak once again. Bucky notices immediately and focuses his pencil on one part of the paper, his eyes shifting from your breasts to the page. The blush in his cheeks deepens, and his arousal is obvious through his sweatpants. The sight of his excitement turns you on, and you can feel yourself grow wet. You shift just slightly, clenching your thighs together for some form of relief. His hand comes up to move your legs back into position and you shy away, teasing him. 

“Isn’t that the first rule of nude modeling? You can’t touch the model?” You ask.

He chuckles lightly, holding his hand up in surrender. “Fine, no touching.”

You move your legs back into position and he notices the evidence of your arousal on your underwear. “All of that without even touching you?” 

You gasp quietly at his comment before quipping back, “I could say the same for you.” You eye the growing bulge in his sweatpants. 

“Take them off,” he begs, nodding to your underwear. You swallow and nod once, slowly sliding your underwear off. Bucky licks his lips at the sight of you completely naked and sits back down in your desk chair, picking up his sketchpad. “I’m almost done.”

“Good,” you breathe.

“Good?” He asks, looking up at you from under his dark lashes, pencil poised above the paper. 

You nod, trying to convey what you want without actually saying the words. 

“I thought I couldn’t touch the model,” he says cheekily, concentrating on his work. 

“Maybe we can break that rule,” you sigh, letting your hand travel lower to where your body is begging for it.

“Jesus Christ, I’m definitely not going to finish if you start doing that,” he mutters.

“But you said you’re almost done,” you hiss, starting to rub slow circles around your clit. “So finish.”

“Oh, I intend to finish,” he growls, dropping the sketchpad on your desk and shedding his shirt and sweats in seconds before climbing on the bed with you. Your body clenches in anticipation as he surrounds you - his muscles, his fucking cologne, his erection pressing into your leg. 

“Are you still sad about your Friday night in?” You breathe, kissing his neck and pushing your hand under the waistband of his boxers, gripping him gently.

Bucky gasps and smiles, biting your earlobe. “Fuck no. I think you’re onto something with Friday night study sessions. Now c’mere.”

[lixiemissexotic]

𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑! 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐗 𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑౨ৎ

౨ৎ: WC-1k. reader is a college track athlete recovering from a minor injury. your university arranged for the elite athletic trainer from japans national volleyball team to help out during rehab season. but what happens when said trainer is someone from your past?

౨ৎ: lmk if you guys are interested in this becoming a mini series.

౨ৎ: past situationship, fluff, gentle iwa, they are both lowkey kinda sassy in this, iwa has tattoos and piercings cs i said so!

you knew rehab season was gonna be long. the season was already ending when you sustained your injury, but not without a stellar performance. your university was very keen on you making a full recovery, that you knew for a fact.

what you didn’t expect was to walk into the athletic room and come face-to-face with a ghost of your past — wearing a black compression shirt hugging muscles that were definitely not that big two years ago.

you halted in your footsteps halfway through the doorway, heartbeat stuttering, fighting an eye roll, thinking “this has to be a joke.”

“oh,” you breathed. “you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

he turned slowly, voice deeper than you remembered — lower, a bit rougher around the edges.

“didn’t expect to see you either.”

iwaizumi hajime.

the last person you thought you’d ever see again — especially not here. not while you were sweaty, limping, and slightly pissed off from your coach breathing down your neck all week. not while your thigh was still tight from that hurdle fall. and definitely not while you were still trying to forget the way he kissed you that one night in his car like he meant it… and then vanished like he didn’t.

he didn’t look surprised. not exactly. more like… steady. like he’d prepared for this moment and you were the one who needed to catch up.

“so,” you spoke, arms crossed over your chest, trying to act like you didn’t just check out the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. “this is what you do now? national team trainer?”

“something like that,” he said, calm as ever.

“your school brought me in for the rest of the season.”

“and they just magically assigned you to me. wonderful,” you said, pointing to your face with your pointer finger, which held a bleak expression.

“sassy track star. great,” he muttered, under his breath but definitely loud enough for you to hear. “they really assigned me rainbow dash.”

you raised an eyebrow. “did you just call me a pony?”

“if the horseshoe fits.” he crossed his arms. “still fast, still mouthy.”

“and you’re still annoying,” you said, walking past him, letting out a laugh. “they let you keep the piercings now?”

“business, please.”

he walked over, clipboard in hand like this was just another session and not a lowkey emotional ambush.

like how is someone even supposed to react to their ex-situationship being their athletic trainer responsible for their rehab??? you thought to yourself.

it’s at times like these you wished you could just turn your head into a question mark and disappear.

he came closer to you — close enough that you could smell that same dior cologne, crisp and stupidly nostalgic.

his eyes dropped briefly to your thigh, where the compression sleeve was riding up.

“still tight?”

you nodded, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“only when i push too hard.”

“which is always, knowing you.”

that made you pause for a second. not just the words, but more so the way he said them — soft. knowing. like he remembered how hard you trained, always destined to be better, go harder.

your voice dropped. “you still remember that?” you tried to play it off with an awkward laugh.

“i remember a lot of things,” he said, finally looking up. our eyes locked, just for a few painfully long seconds before you looked away.

“you gonna tape me up or keep staring?”

he huffed a breath — almost a laugh — and motioned to the table. “c’mon.”

you hopped up, and he knelt in front of you, starting slow. careful. his fingers were warm, steady on your skin, moving with the same familiar quiet confidence that used to make you melt. he didn’t speak much, but you could feel the tension, the silence heavy with things we left unsaid.

“you got more tattoos,” you said, pointing out, breaking the silence.

he looked up through his lashes. “you noticed.”

“a little hard not to. not like you’re making a good effort at hiding them.”

“still with that attitude, i see.”

he looked back down and kept working. his thumb brushed over your inner thigh — accidental or not, it made your breath hitch — and that’s when you realized this was gonna be dangerous. being near him again. feeling all of this. remembering.

and worse?

yearning. wanting. almost needing.

“all done,” he breathed out, double-tapping your thigh to signal you to get up.

“we’ve got work to do. gotta get you back in good shape, track star.”

©2025 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝗼 𝐥𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐠𝗼𝐝. 𝐂𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝗼𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝗼𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝗼𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝗼𝐧 𝗼𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝗼𝐫𝗺𝐬.

[imsogonesposts]

Ocean Boy

|| ao3 || an: this is part of a series, but each fic can be read on its own || Not What I Thought Series Masterlist || Finnick Odair Masterlist ||

summary: class with finnick (wc: 1,004)

It had been a week since your last class, since you first met Finnick. He had told you last week to save a seat for him for the following class, but as the clock ticked closer and closer to noon, you were beginning to have your doubts of the boy ever returning to sit next to you. 

That is until a voice, Finnick’s voice, calls out your name followed by a “good morning,” as he slumps into the available seat next to you. 11:57. He was dressed in sweatpants again, this time wearing a blue shirt that complimented his eyes instead of the hoodie you saw him in last. “You saved me a seat!” He exclaimed as he turned to face you. You could only let out a small smile.

“You told me to,” you simply replied. “Though, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up,” you tell him. 

Finnick only smiles at that, wiggling his eyebrows. You’ve quickly noticed that he likes to do that whenever he’s about to tease you. “You were waiting up on me?” He asked in a teasing tone. 

You only rolled your eyes, biting back the smile that wanted to creep onto your face. “Something like that,” you reply as Finnick slides a sealed granola bar across the table, to you. 

“Well, I got this for you from the vending machine, so consider it a ‘thank you,’ for waiting up,” Finnick replies with a softer, almost kinder smile before taking out his notebook and pen and focusing his attention on Professor Beetee as the class slowly started to begin.

***

“So, how are your other classes going?” Finnick asked as you both began to pack up your belongings. 

Professor Beetee had decided to end class half an hour early simply because he could and wanted to, meaning you would likely spend your free time until your next class in either your shared dorm room with your two friends Katniss and Johanna to take a nap or in the library to catch up on some homework.

“Pretty good,” you reply with a smile. “I got swamped with assignments for one of my classes though, so I gotta work on that.”

Finnick nods in understanding. “Yeah, my science teacher gives out assignments like crazy, and then she takes forever to grade them,” he says with a laugh, “she seems sweet though,” he lets out a small shrug before handing you your pencil pouch as you put your belongings away. 

“I can’t wait to take a nap,” Finnick tells you, getting up to stretch, “first thing I’m doing once I leave this class. I went out swimming at the beach a few blocks away from the school, and lost track of the time. I ended up getting back to my place around 1 am, and then after I showered, I was done for. Knocked out.”

You smile, “I didn’t know there was a beach nearby,” you tell him, getting up as well as you and Finnick begin walking to the hallway.

Finnick nods with a happy, joyous smile on his face. “Yeah, it’s gorgeous out there, you should go some time when you’re free. Very peaceful too, you could get lost there for hours.”

“I can tell,” you reply with a smile, beginning to notice the sight red tinge on his skin, likely from a sunburn. He didn’t look like he minded too much though. “You really like the ocean, huh?” You questioned with a smile. 

Marine biology major and spending hours upon hours on the beach? It was practically obvious.

Finnick’s smile somehow grew at your question, though. “Oh, I love the ocean,” he replied, the smallest crinkle meeting his eyes as he smiled. “I’ve loved it since I was a kid, we used to live near the beach, and for as long as I can remember I’d run out there and spend as long as I could out until one of my parent’s went looking for me. One of the biggest reasons I picked this school is because it’s so close to a beach.”

He was leaning against a wall now, scrolling through his phone before showing you a picture of what you can only guess to be a baby, probably around three or four years old, Finnick smiling a wide smile to the camera as he stood in front of a glass wall with fish behind it. 

“Loved aquariums for as long as I can remember too,” he tells you.

You couldn’t help but smile at his love for the water. It was almost endearing to see him talk so passionately about it. “Were you a mermaid in another life?” You asked him with a laugh. 

Finnick only shrugged with a smile before pocketing his phone away. “Funnily enough, my mom used to make that exact same joke to me all the time,” he tells you with a smile before glancing to the side. 

“I’d hate to cut our time short,” Finnick mutters with what almost looks like a frown, “but I think I gotta start heading out,” he says, nodding to his friends who were waiting for him on the other side of the hallway. A tall boy with brown hair and grey eyes, and a blonde boy with hazel eyes, who you think you remember Finnick referring to as Peeta last class. 

You nod with a smile as you both make your goodbyes, before making your way to the library. And on your way, you passed the school’s bookstore, noticing they had a collection of fish stickers put on display at the very front. And before you had time to second guess your actions, you were walking into the store, picking up a pack, and paying for them as you continued your way to the library. Finnick had bought you a granola bar from the vending machine, it was only fair to buy him a gift as well, right? Especially with his love for the ocean and the water. It only made sense. 

[empressdede]

Reconnecting Ringside

Sade is interning at WWE, hoping to gain some insight experience and runs in to Jon, an old friend. What are the chances of these two reconnecting?

Word count: 3.5K

Pairing: Jonathan x OC (Sade)

No warnings, Happy Valentine’s day ❤️••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Jonathan Fatu adjusted his snapback as he strolled through the halls of the WWE Performance Center, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. Fresh off a promo rehearsal, he was already thinking about heading back to his hotel—until a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Jonathan Fatu? Is that really you?”

He turned, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Sade?”

There she stood—Sade, his old friend from back home. The years had changed her, but the warm smile and bright eyes were unmistakable. She held a media badge around her neck, a notepad in hand.

“Wow,” Jonathan chuckled, a grin spreading across his face. “Long time no see! What brings you here?”

Sade’s smile widened. “I just started an internship with WWE’s journalism team. Gonna be doing interviews, covering events, all that.”

“No way!” He beamed proudly. “Look at you, making moves. This business is wild, but you’re gonna kill it. Trust me.”

Sade laughed. “I hope so! And I’m pretty sure an interview with a certain Uso has to happen soon.”

Jonathan smirked, his playful side kicking in. “Only if you can handle the heat, ’cause when I’m on the mic, it’s straight fire!”

“Bring it on,” she teased. “Just don’t make me roast you on camera.”

Jonathan laughed loudly, shaking his head. “You ain’t changed a bit.”

Before they could say more, a voice called from down the hall—production needed Jonathan on set. He glanced back at Sade. “Yo, we gotta catch up after this. Dinner tonight?”

“Deal,” she replied.

As he walked away, Jonathan couldn’t help but smile. The WWE ring had brought him countless battles—but this? This felt like the start of something special.

-

Later that evening, Jonathan and Sade found themselves at a cozy restaurant not far from the arena. The air buzzed with the soft hum of conversations, but their table felt like its own world.

“So, WWE journalism, huh?” Jonathan leaned back, his chain catching the low light. “How’d you end up here?”

Sade smiled, setting her drink down. “Well, you know I always loved storytelling. After college, I did some freelance sports writing. Then, I saw WWE was offering an internship for media coverage. It felt like fate. And now here I am, about to cover superstars—never thought I’d run into one I actually know.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Man, life’s wild like that. Feels like yesterday we were back home, clowning around.”

Sade’s eyes sparkled. “Remember when you used to practice your promos in front of my camera for my school projects?”

Jonathan laughed loudly. “You mean those cringy ones with the bad lighting? Yeah, I remember. Guess that was my first taste of ‘The Mic.’”

Sade grinned. “I knew you had star power even then.”

Jonathan’s expression softened. “And now you’re here, chasing your own dream. That’s dope.”

Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence, and for a moment, it was just two old friends, worlds apart from where they started, but somehow right back in step.

Then Sade’s phone buzzed with a notification—Interview assignments posted. She opened it and paused, eyes widening.

“Well, looks like fate’s still working overtime,” she said, turning the screen to him.

The assignment read: “Exclusive Sit-Down Interview with Jimmy Uso – Tomorrow.”

Jonathan smirked. “Guess you’re getting that interview sooner than you thought.”

Sade raised an eyebrow, her playful competitive streak kicking in. “Hope you’re ready, Fatu. I don’t go easy on my subjects.”

Jonathan grinned, his tone playful but firm. “And I don’t pull punches. Better bring your A-game.”

Their eyes locked—a spark of excitement, challenge, and something unspoken lingering between them.

“Game on,” Sade replied with a smirk.

The following morning, backstage at a live event, the atmosphere was a mix of buzzing anticipation and focused intensity. Jonathan Fatu—better known in the ring as Jimmy Uso—sat in his dressing room, meticulously going over last-minute details. The mirror in front of him reflected a man who had weathered countless storms in the squared circle, each scar and smile telling a story of his journey.

A gentle knock at the door broke his concentration. Jonathan looked up to see Sade stepping in, notebook in hand and a confident gleam in her eye. The room, usually reserved for quiet pre-match rituals, seemed to brighten with her presence.

“Good morning, Jimmy,” she began warmly. “Ready for our sit-down?”

Jonathan grinned. “Always. It’s not every day I get to be interviewed by an old friend.”

They settled into a pair of mismatched chairs by a small table cluttered with water bottles, a coffee mug, and memorabilia from past events. Sade switched on her recorder and leaned forward. “Let’s start at the beginning. What was it like when you first realized this wasn’t just a game, but your life?”

Jonathan’s eyes softened with memory. “I remember the first time I stepped into the ring—the roaring crowd, the smell of sweat and determination. It wasn’t about winning or losing back then. It was about proving to myself that I belonged in a world where every moment mattered.”

Sade scribbled a note, then asked, “And what about the pressure of living up to a family legacy? Your brother, the rest of your clan—it all adds a layer of expectation.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Family is both the weight on my shoulders and the wind beneath my wings. Every match, every promo, I’m not just fighting for myself but for everyone who’s ever believed in me. It’s a relentless drive.”

The conversation flowed naturally, as if the years apart had melted away. Sade probed further, “There must have been moments of doubt along the way. Can you share one that changed you?”

Jonathan’s gaze drifted to a framed photo on the wall—a candid shot of him and his cousins backstage, laughing after a tough day. “There was a time when I wasn’t sure I’d ever overcome the obstacles. A major injury had me sidelined longer than I’d hoped, and the fear of losing my edge was overwhelming. But in that quiet darkness, I learned that resilience isn’t just about physical strength—it’s about heart, determination, and the unwavering support of those who stand by you.”

Sade’s voice softened. “That vulnerability… it makes your triumphs all the more inspiring.”

“Exactly,” Jonathan replied, a wry smile playing on his lips. “The ring isn’t just about the spectacle you see on TV. It’s about the sweat, the scars, and the moments when you push past pain to become something more.”

A comfortable silence fell over the room as they both reflected on the weight of his journey. Finally, Sade added, “I think that’s what the fans need to hear. Behind every high-flying move and every electrifying promo, there’s a human story. A story of struggle, family, and the relentless pursuit of a dream.”

Jonathan nodded appreciatively. “And thanks to you, Sade, that story is going to be told with honesty and heart.”

The recorder clicked off as Sade closed her notebook. They sat for a moment, two friends connected by time and a shared passion for storytelling—one through the physical poetry of wrestling, the other through the power of the written word.

Stepping out into the corridor, the buzz of the arena waiting just beyond, Jonathan clapped Sade on the shoulder. “I’m looking forward to the next chapter. And hey—if you need any behind-the-scenes action, you know where to find me.”

With a final smile and a promise to reconnect after the show, Sade walked off, her mind brimming with the raw, authentic narrative of a superstar whose legacy was as much about heart as it was about hustle. And for Jonathan, the day had reaffirmed that every story—both in and out of the ring—deserves to be told.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Weeks passed, and Sade and Jonathan settled into an easy rhythm. Between shows, interviews, and the chaos of WWE life, they always found time for each other—grabbing dinner after tapings, cracking jokes between promos, and sharing late-night conversations that blurred the line between the past and present.

Their friendship felt natural, like they had never lost time. But for Jonathan, something unexpected had started to creep in—attraction. He found himself looking forward to her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she asked the right question, or how she stood her ground during heated debates about wrestling storylines.

One evening, they sat together in catering, plates filled with the usual post-show fare. The energy of the arena hummed faintly through the walls. Sade, scrolling through her notes for her next assignment, glanced up to catch Jonathan watching her.

She smirked. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Jonathan shook his head, leaning back with a grin. “Nah, just—never thought I’d see you in this world. But you’re killin’ it.”

Sade chuckled, brushing off the compliment. “You always did hype me up.”

Jonathan’s eyes glinted with curiosity, and he tilted his head playfully. “So, tell me… you leave a boyfriend behind to pursue this dream?”

Sade paused mid-sip of her water, then burst out laughing. “Boyfriend? Nah, haven’t had one in a while. Been single for two years now.”

Jonathan’s eyebrows lifted slightly, though he kept his cool. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

She raised an eyebrow, her playful side kicking in. “Why you askin’, Fatu?”

Jonathan shrugged casually, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “Just curious.”

Sade smirked. “You’re terrible at being subtle, you know that?”

Jonathan laughed, rubbing his chin. “Maybe. But I’m good at being real.”

A charged silence settled between them, one that felt… different. Sade felt the weight of his gaze, but before she could unpack it, a crew member called her name from across the room.

She stood, flashing him a quick grin. “Well, just curious, I gotta get back to work. See you later, Fatu.”

Jonathan watched her walk away, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath. “See you later.”

But as she disappeared down the hall, one thought stuck in his mind: This ain’t just friendship anymore.

-

The more time Jonathan spent with Sade, the more his feelings tangled. Friendship had always been easy with her—jokes, conversations, the comfort of someone who just got him. But now? He found himself noticing everything—the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, how she challenged him in conversations, how her passion for storytelling mirrored his passion for the ring.

But the more he felt it, the more he panicked.

Jonathan wasn’t a stranger to love—he’d been through enough to know how messy it could get. And with Sade? She was his friend. Hell, his best friend. If he crossed that line and it went south, he could lose something he hadn’t even realized he needed so badly.

So, he buried it. Teased her like always. Kept his playful charm front and center.

But his heart kept slipping through the cracks.

One Night After SmackDown

The locker room buzz had died down, and Jonathan was cooling off from his match, towel draped around his neck when his phone buzzed.

Sade: “Still here? Grab a late bite with me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Bet. Meet you outside.”

They ended up at a small diner—not glamorous, but the kind of place that felt real. Sade was deep into a story about a backstage interview gone hilariously wrong, and Jonathan, fork paused halfway to his mouth, just… watched her.

“You good?” she teased, catching his stare.

He blinked, covering with a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Just… you really love this, don’t you?”

Sade’s expression softened. “I do. I love getting to know people, hearing their stories. Wrestling isn’t just about fights—it’s about heart, passion, legacy. And you…” She nudged him playfully. “You live that every night.”

Jonathan felt a warmth he couldn’t shake. “Yeah, well… guess I’m lucky I got someone who sees the real side of all this.”

Their eyes locked—something unspoken humming between them for a beat too long.

Later That Week – At the WWE Performance Center

Jonathan decided he needed to do something about these feelings—anything—before they started eating him alive.

So, he did what he knew best: he hit the ring. Training always cleared his head. Except, this time, it didn’t.

Every corner of the ring reminded him of Sade—because she was everywhere now. In his matches, his promos, his downtime. And it wasn’t annoying. It was terrifying how right it felt.

Finally, he stopped, breathing hard, hands on his knees. “Man… what the hell’s wrong with me?” he muttered.

A voice from behind startled him. “You good, Uce?”

Jonathan turned to see Joshua, arms crossed, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Jonathan lied, wiping his face. “Just workin’ some stuff out.”

Josh wasn’t buying it. “Man, you wrestlin’ ghosts or somethin’? What’s really on your mind?”

Jonathan hesitated, then sighed heavily. “It’s… Sade.”

Josh’s eyebrows shot up, a smirk forming. “Ohhh. Sade. Say less.”

Jonathan groaned, “Man, don’t start—”

Josh cut him off, serious now. “You feelin’ her?”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean… I didn’t plan on it. But it’s like—she’s my friend, but she’s more than that, too. And I don’t wanna mess it up.”

Joshua clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Bro, when you know, you know. But if you’re already over here sweatin’ and stressin’ like this? It’s ‘cause you care.”

Jonathan looked at his brother, the truth hitting him square in the chest. “Yeah… I do.”

–

Lying on his bed, phone in hand, Jonathan’s thumb hovered over Sade’s contact.

He typed: “You up?”

Then deleted it.

Tried again: “Hey, you wanna talk?”

Deleted that, too.

Frustrated, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Get it together, Fatu.”

But deep down, he knew—this wasn’t something he could fight like an opponent in the ring.

This was something he had to face.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Valentine’s Day was a week away, and Jonathan Fatu had one thing on his mind—Sade.

The decision to finally tell her how he felt was clear, but how he’d do it? That was where he was stuck. He wanted it to be perfect—something meaningful, something that showed her just how much she meant to him.

So, between training, matches, and travel, he found himself scrolling through ideas—dinners, flowers, maybe something personal like a custom WWE jacket with her name on it. But every option felt too small for how big his feelings had become.

The planning was driving him crazy—and, without realizing it, making him distant.

Sade Notices the Change. At first, Sade didn’t think much of it. Jonathan was busy—WWE life was hectic, and they both knew that. But as days passed, she felt it—text replies were shorter, their usual jokes felt half-hearted, and he wasn’t hitting her up to hang out like he usually did.

After their last interview together, he barely stuck around—just a quick “Good job” and he was gone.

Sade couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Talking to Joshua

Sade decided to get to the bottom of it, and who better to ask than Jonathan’s twin, Joshua?

She found him backstage after SmackDown, cooling down from his segment.

“Hey, Jey,” she greeted, her voice light but uncertain.

Joshua smiled, towel draped over his neck. “What’s good, Sade?”

She hesitated briefly, then got straight to it. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Jonathan.”

Joshua’s eyebrows lifted knowingly. “Oh?”

Sade shifted her weight, arms crossing. “He’s been… different lately. Distant. Did I… do something? Is he mad at me?”

Josh chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, you didn’t do anything.”

Sade narrowed her eyes. “Then what’s going on? We were tight, and now it’s like I barely know what’s on his mind.”

Joshua debated for a second—he knew what his brother was up to, but it wasn’t his place to spoil it.

Instead, he grinned slyly. “Lemme just say this—My brother’s head is in the game… but his heart? Yeah, that’s somewhere else right now.”

Sade frowned in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Joshua gave a small shrug but couldn’t hide his amusement. “You’ll see soon enough. Trust me.”

Sade’s confusion only deepened. “You Fatu boys and your cryptic answers…”

Josh laughed, “What can I say? We love a good storyline.”

-

Meanwhile, Jonathan was pulling every string he could to make this Valentine’s Day unforgettable. He called in a favor with WWE production for something special during that night’s show—a personal video package with highlights of their friendship, moments from their interviews, and even a few candid clips.

His heart pounded at the thought of it. This wasn’t just a gesture—this was him laying it all on the line.

But he hadn’t spoken to her much because if he did… he’d slip. He knew it.

Sade, still confused and slightly frustrated, wondered if Jonathan was pulling away from her for another reason entirely.

But what she didn’t know was that Jonathan wasn’t pulling away—

He was getting ready to step closer than ever before.

Valentine’s Day -

Valentine’s Day arrived, and the energy backstage was electric. Red and pink decorations lined the catering area—thanks to some overzealous staffers—and the buzz of the night’s matches filled the air.

Jonathan, though? His heart was racing for a different reason. Tonight was the night. His plan was set—the video package would air after his segment. But before that… he needed to ask her. Directly.

Sade was reviewing her notes for a post-match interview when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Hey.”

She turned, and there he was—Jonathan, looking slightly… nervous? She raised an eyebrow. “Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. MIA. You finally decided to show up.”

Jonathan rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, about that… I’ve been, uh, working on something.”

Sade folded her arms, smirking. “Something so important you had to ghost me?”

Jonathan chuckled softly, but then his tone shifted—serious, genuine. “Nah… something for you.”

Sade’s expression softened. “For me?”

Jonathan took a small breath—this was it. “Yeah… So, listen. I know I’ve been distant, but it’s ‘cause I’ve been trying to figure out how to do this right.”

He stepped closer, his voice steady but warm. “So, I’m just gonna say it plain—Sade… will you be my Valentine?”

Sade blinked, her lips parting in surprise. Of all the things she expected—that wasn’t one of them.

Then, a slow, radiant smile spread across her face. “You mean all this time you were stressing about this?”

Jonathan chuckled nervously. “Yeah… pretty much.”

Sade shook her head with a laugh. “You really are something else, Fatu.” She paused, eyes softening. “But… yeah. I’d love to be your Valentine.”

Jonathan’s grin could’ve lit up the entire arena. “Good. ‘Cause I wasn’t takin’ no for an answer.”

Later that night, as the crowd roared and the lights dimmed for a transition segment, the arena screens flickered to life—playing a special video package.

Footage of Jonathan and Sade appeared—interviews, shared laughs, behind-the-scenes clips… their story. The final frame read:

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sade. — Jonathan”

Sade, watching from the interview set, felt her chest tighten—warmth flooding through her.

And as the camera panned back to Jonathan, standing in the ring with a mic, he smiled toward her direction.

“Yo, Sade,” his voice boomed, “Just wanted everyone to know—you’ve already made this the best Valentine’s Day.”

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Sade couldn’t fight the grin on her face.

The cheers from the crowd still echoed faintly through the halls as Sade and Jonathan stood together backstage, the energy of his Valentine’s Day surprise still buzzing between them.

Sade pulled back slightly from their hug, her eyes searching his. “That… was unreal, Jon. I don’t even know what to say.”

Jonathan’s gaze softened, his hands lingering at her waist. “Don’t gotta say anything. Just… tell me how you feel.”

Sade’s heart pounded. She felt the weight of the moment—the years of friendship, the teasing, the laughter, and now… this.

So, she stopped thinking.

And closed the distance.

Their lips met—soft, warm, and every bit as perfect as she’d imagined. The world around them blurred into nothing, the noise fading until it was just them.

When they pulled back, Sade’s breath was shaky, but her smile was radiant. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jonathan’s lips curled into a grin, his forehead resting against hers. “You have no idea how long I’ve been hoping you would.”

The unspoken was spoken, and everything felt… right.

And as they stood there, lost in each other, one thing was certain—this wasn’t the end.

It was just the beginning.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

How we feeling? We loved it? Hated it? 😂 Let me know🤍🤍

P.S. Look who was working overtime during her Hiatus😭 Happy Valentine’s to those who celebrate. We love, love 😭❤️

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[slut4sugu]

— PRETTY LIL THING ! [𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] 𝐄!𝟒𝟐 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

including: aged up!characters, mutual pining, spanish, cursing, slight stalking, protective miles

genre: fluff/suggestiveness

summary: miles has seen you around the school and has taken a liking to your sweet and sarcastic nature oh..and your very pretty face

🎸: 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭-𝐁𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

You’ve heard about the prowler before and even sworn you saw him a couple rooftops away from your house one time. Though you never would’ve thought that the violent individual would be crushing on you. “So you’re telling me that you would rather go out with Jordans hoe ass than Miles Tasha?” Your friend Kali asked, eyes glancing over to the teen who was sittin in his assigned seat busy taking notes even well after class was over, before glancing back at the light skin girl who sat in front of her. “Listennn, Miles is fine but he kinda scary tho.” She explained, fixing her claw clip that held her Mirco braids before looking down at her now lit up Lock Screen, “Besides I just got a text from jordannnn.” She giggled, quickly picking up her phone before getting lost in messages. Kali rolled her eyes, before shifting in her seat to talk to you. “What about you tho girl? Last time i checked your into scary lil boys.” She teased, twirling a curled braid around her manicured finger.

You rolled your eyes at the darkskinned girl, before taking in a glance at Miles. You never really talked to him but, Tasha wasn’t wrong he was definitely fine, his braids complimented his already handsome features. He had nice eyes too.. and his forearms were- you looked up for a second admist in your thoughts only to catch his eyes staring into your brown ones. Instead of looking away you smiled softly, waving at the boy. Your heart rate accelerating when he waved back, a small small smile causing your heart to melt. Only to hear Kali going “No fucking way he waved at you.” Causing your eyes to widen as you wiped your head around to scold your friend for being so loud, though not being able to help the slight smile tugging at your lips when you heard his faint snicker. ‘ I’ve never seen miles smile before..that shit was cute as fuck-‘ you thought to yourself. “My god Kali! Didn’t I tell your ass to stop being so loud?!” You whisper shouted, before quickly gathering your books realizing the next period is about to start. “My bad, but its not every day you see that mothafucker smile.” She said defensively, you rolled your eyes in response though you agreed with her in your head.

You tapped Tasha on her shoulder, snapping her out of her lovey dovey trance. “Oh shit, thanks y/n. Bro Jordan is actually a sweetheart yall gotta hear what he just sent me, ‘was the sweetest fuckin thing.” You and Kali looked at each other with the “this bitch finna talk about ‘her man’ all 4th period” face. “Mhm I bet it was Tash.” You said dryly, before putting your supplies and phone in your tote bag standing up quickly as you looked at the clock. “Now cmon yall, I wanna get sum from the vending machine before 4th! Hurry up, cmon!”

Miles watched as he saw you pull both of your friends out the door, the white bow that was clipped to your ponytail finally became visible as you three left the classroom. “Niña bonita.” he muttered to himself with a small smirk, before packing his own things up as he got ready to leave.

✮. Now onto headcannnons!

[🕷]after that small encounter, miles would start to make note of your paths home and schedules as to not put you in any danger in future missions

[🕷] since you both would have 2nd and 4th period together, when your friends weren’t there that day or with ‘they’re mans’ you would pair up with miles for anything. Which surprised almost half the class since miles usually kept to himself and scared off any one who needed a partner to rather work by themselves.

[🕷] once you two started to pair up more small talk started, which turned into sitting with him at lunch, which then turned into letting him walk you home

[🕷] Miles would always look out for you a well, whether it be reminding you of deadlines, or scaring off any dickheads who wanted to take advantage of you. Which you thought was hot, how he scared people off without having to do anything

[🕷] after a while you started to have feelings for miles, which he knew and thought it was cute how you always denied it when he would flirt with you, though whenever you saw a girl show interest in him you would roll your eyes and yet mind your business only to have the biggest smile when he would eventually turn her down.

[🕷] Since of course miles liked you too he wanted to tell you how he felt but he thought about the danger he could put you in if you found out who he really was. Would you run away? Never talk to him again? Report him to the police? He couldn’t bear think of a day were he couldn’t see your pretty smile. So he distanced himself.

[🕷] He noticed how you would become more quiet in class, your usual bubbly star student attitude gone as you would now just sit in the back of the class your head down not saying a word. Your wardrobe growing more dull, your usual softcore style turning into just hoodies and sweats

[🕷] He started to worry about you, following you home became a normal thing. Ensuring you didnt get taken or hurt by anything or anyone.

[🕷] Then finally heart shattered, when he saw you about to go up to him before meeting his gaze and turning around. He couldn’t take it, he rather tell you who he is rather than just shut you out. So thats exactly what he did, not bothering to tell his uncle Aron.

He caught you on your way home one day, coming out of an alleyway scaring you in the process. “Shit- wait..Miles? What are you-what do you want.” You asked firmly, despite your eyes starting to water slightly at the sight of merely seeing his face. “Look, angel I- the only reason I iced you out like that is to protect you. You don’t know who I am or what I’m associated with. And the last fuckin thing i want is to put you in danger.” You looked into his eyes, seeing if he meant what he said. “What are you talking about miles? Your not dangerous, or scary or nothing like that. I don’t care about whatever those weird ass clowns call you at vision. I care about you.” You explained, walking up to him. Your eyes starting to wobble as he backed up in response, “You don’t understand-“ “Then tell me Miles!” You shouted, tears finally spilling from your waterline. Causing the brown skinned teen’s face to fall into guilt, “Tell me why I can’t be with the one person who I love so damn much-“ “I’m the prowler.”

He did it. Your gonna run away. Why aren’t you running? Get away from here-You took another step and quickly wrapped your arms round his torso. Hugging him tight as you buried your face in his chest, “I don’t care about that miles, I just said i fucking lo-“ You felt two strong forearms wrap around your lower back, “I heard you ma, ‘love you too. But you shouldn’t be-“ You squeezed him tighter, “I’m staying miles, I don’t care who you are. I’m staying with you.” He chuckled, resting his chin ontop of your head. “Fine then, but stop wearin hoodies unless its mine. You look prettier in skirts and shit.” You giggled, pulling back from the embrace to look up at him. “Fine, only if you kiss me like you’ve missed me.” Your eyes flickered from his lips back up to his dark brown eyes, with a smug smile plastered on your lips.

“your a lucky pretty lil thing..givin me a run for my fuckin money.”