#just when you think I’m done I come back and whack you on the back of the head guignol style

[galaxyspeaking]

We’re gonna have to be quiet if you wanna do this.

[areislol]

The morning after

►— pairings. genshin men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. some of the characters get clingy really quickly.

►— synopsis. albedo created a machine where it would bring back their creator, who was stuck in another world, back to where they belong. but instead of bringing you here to them, it brought them to where you were.

►— a/n. RAGGHH i was having so much trouble just trying to figure out the title 😭 i hope you guys enjoy this 🩷 I’m very sorry for the lack of action or if it’s simple.. next chapter will be more fun for you guys I hope 🙏🏻

►— wordcount. 4.2k

✧ part one | ✧ part two | ✧ part three | ✧ part four | ✧ part five | more tba.. NAVIGATION

recommended to listen to: needy - ariana grande or circles - post malone

The next morning, you awoke to Childe’s hand slapped over the side of your face, snoring quite loudly. Groaning, you pushed his hand away and yawned, opening your eyes groggily.

You managed to sit up on the bed and rubbed your eyes, looking around you could see multiple men standing around in your room, Thoma and Kazuha looking out your window, admiring the view, while the others were looking around your room and pointing at the unfamiliar objects lying about your floor and talking amongst one another about what it could be.

“Hey.. see that thing right there on the floor? Do you think that could be used to whack a Hilichurl?”

“… Itto I doubt something as small, petite and cute looking would be used to hit a Hilichurl..” Zhongli heaved a great sigh from Itto’s stupidity (he couldn’t say that though) and pinched his nose bridge from disappointment.

It was a pink, light wand with a red lollipop at the top with a lid covering it. It was candy… not a weapon you can use against Hilichurls.

You could feel your heart skip a beat because ?! Why were all of these guys in your room?! But after remembering what had happened last night, you calmed down.

Right.. that happened.

Suddenly, you felt Childe cling to your side, burying his head into your abdomen as his arms wrapped around your waist. “Mmm..”

You were too tired to even fuss about why he was being so close to you so you decided to just ignore him and his actions. While stretching your arms and yawning, everybody turned their head to look at you.

“Oh, uh.. good morning everybody?” You said, stopping mid-stretch, almost subconsciously shrinking from their gazes.

A collective “good morning” could be heard from everyone as Neuvillette and Cyno walked towards the edge of your bed and started to question if you slept well or not (you did because it was warm), complaining about how when they woke up they found Childe snuggling close to your side and being so clingy towards you.

(Why were they complaining? Easy answer, they were jealous is what. They would rather bury their heads in the sand than ever admit it.)

Nodding your head slowly, you smiled sheepishly and waved your hand at them. “It’s all good, don’t worry about Childe he’s just.. maybe he just likes to hug people?”

Cyno glared at Childe and let out a sigh before nodding his head. “Sure..”

Neuvillette offered his hand for you to take—giving you a gentle smile. “I’m glad you slept well, Y/n. Shall we prepare you breakfast?”

You took his hands and thought about his offer before nodding, offering him a grateful smile. “That would be nice.. but maybe once I’m done getting ready because I’m not sure if you guys are familiar with how things work.”

Neuvillette gave you a simple nod and once you hopped off the bed and let go of his hands you made your way to the bathroom, slipping on your slippers as Kaveh and Xiao with a few others followed you into your bathroom.

It wasn’t so different to theirs but it looked more.. modern for sure. “It looks so.. white and grey. Oh wow! What is this stuff on the wall..?”

Kaveh pointed to the strange object stuck on the wall. It was a toothbrush holder.

“Oh, that? That’s a toothbrush holder, it holds toothbrushes... I mainly use it for my friends if they ever come over.”

Kaveh and Gorou nod their head. “Strange, but unique. I like it!” You smiled at them before turning around and began to brush your teeth before washing your face, all the while they (Kaveh, Xiao, Kazuha and Kaeya) watched you do your thing.

It was a bit awkward, to tell the truth. While you were doing your morning routine they were either watching you or looking around your bathroom.

After finishing everything you needed to do in the bathroom, you bent down in front of the sink and opened the cabinet, grabbing a few packs of toothbrushes and ripping them open before handing them to Kaveh, Xiao, Kazuha and Kaeya.

“Here, use these. I’ll have to go out and buy the rest as well..” you sighed, thinking about how much it would cost.

Making sure they grabbed one, you helped him apply toothpaste on their toothbrush and left them to do their thing while you stepped out of the bathroom and groaned.

Sleeping with Childe and Xiao wasn’t a bad idea but they squeezed you tight through the night. Especially Childe, he just kept on clinging onto you and your arm was sort of sore.

As you stepped foot into your room, you realised that everybody was gone, they probably were in your living room, and you also realised that Thoma was making your bed. When he saw you just standing there eyeing him he smiled shyly.

“Y/n! I decided to make your bed.. as you noticed. How do you like it?” Thoma questioned, patting your pillow down before standing beside there looking like.. a maid.

You smiled at him nervously and thanked him, “well, you didn’t have to do that but thank you, it actually looks pretty nice and neat!”

There was no reason to lie, the bed looked nice and clean. Your sheets were tucked under your pillows and everything looked so smooth and clean.. he even put your plushies aside on the wall!!

You couldn’t help but smile even more as you noticed him leaving your plushies on your bed. But you were snapped out of your thoughts when Thoma then spoke.

“Would you like breakfast now?” You hummed and nodded your head and walked out of your room with Thoma trailing right behind you. And as you moved closer to your living room you could hear the chattering of everyone.

You didn’t know why but just hearing everybody talking and chuckling in your room made your body relax for some odd reason. It made you feel good, it felt as though the burdens were lifted from your shoulders, how weird.

As you made your way through your living room and into the kitchen, the others started to notice you and Thoma following behind you.

“Oh, Y/n! You’re finally here.” Heizou smiled, waving hello at you. You waved back at him and also included the others (even though they didn’t wave first.), smiling so tenderly and waving at them made their hearts flutter—feeling heat rushing to their cheeks.

“Mhm, I’ll make breakfast for you guys.. if there’s enough that is.” Everybody’s hearts nearly burst at your hospitality. Their creator.. offering to make them breakfast? Oh someone please catch them they might faint!

Aether jumped up from the couch and walked towards you and Thoma. “I’ll help!” He chirped, giving you and Thoma a warm smile to which you two returned. “Sure, thanks!”

As you three rummaged through the cabinets, trying to find anything to make breakfast—you eventually settled on pancakes (how did you have so many ingredients for 28 people? No clue.)

It was oddly comforting that you had people in your house let alone help you out with cooking. It felt nice nonetheless, to have company over, even if it was unexpected.

You let the others stare at your TV in awe, wondering what it was. “See that remote thing on the table? Yes, the one that’s black and has multiple colours on it, yup, press on the red one at the top left—yes! Good job, now uh watch whatever you want?”

You could hear the “oohs”’ and “aaahs” s of the men to which you chuckled softly. They acted like toddlers who just found something new in their life. It was adorable.

Breakfast was finally served after an hour or so, the voices of Itto and Childe could be heard thanking for breakfast being served now as they were starving.

“Oh finally!! I’ve been waiting for years for breakfast!” Childe groaned, almost drooling at the sight of the pancakes. “My stomach was growling so loudly..” Itto agreed.

“We could hear.” Could be heard from Dainsleif, Ayato and Capitano. They seemed to be fed up with him and his antics (so was everybody else.)

Everybody began to sit down in the most random spots, well, anywhere they could sit. Your table could only accompany only 8 people so the rest sat down near your coffee table in front of the TV and some eating at your desk.

They also made sure to sit away from people they didn’t want to sit next to. Diluc with the fatui (Capitano, Childe, Dottore and Pierro.), Wanderer from literally everyone else (he sat himself down in the corner like a little child), and Dainsleif from the archons—Zhongli and Venti.

It was a funny sight, to say the least, but, they had to do what they had to do, in this case—eat your pancakes.

As you and Thoma set down the plates and drizzled maple syrup on them, everybody said their thanks and picked up their utensils before digging in, some even moaning from how amazing it tasted.

“Enjoy your pancakes!” You happily said before standing behind the kitchen counter munching on your own pancakes beside Thoma. “Mhm.. it tastes so good! You and Aether are such good cooks!”

For Thoma hear you praise him and Aether made his cheeks flush red. He mumbled that it was “no problem” and quickly stuffed more pancakes into his mouth to hide his embarrassment, unbeknownst to the jealous glares coming from different directions of the room at him.

While you were still chewing and eating your pancakes, you were unaware of Ayato walking towards you and setting himself beside you.

“Y/n-“ Ayato began before you cut him off with a horrified yell. Turning to face Ayato you placed your hand on your chest and let out a sigh, everybody turned to look at you, their pancakes still half in their mouth as they stopped mid-eating.

“Ayato! You scared me..” you breathed, Ayato frowned and held his hand over his heart. “I didn’t mean to scare you, dear.. are you okay?”

You nodded your head and sighed. “It’s all good Ayato, I know you didn’t mean to.” You replied, giving him a reassuring smile to make sure he doesn’t feel bad, but he was already so.

“Did you need anything though? You must’ve come here for a reason..” Ayato nodded before averting eye contact with you, a noticeable pink blush appearing on his cheek.

He held his fist to his lips and cleared his throat. “Well.. this is embarrassing.. but I wanted to..” he stopped mid-sentence and looked back at you with a flustered face.

“Feed you.”

You stared at Ayato blankly, confused about whether or not you should be feeling happy or creeped out.. “wai- feed me?” Ayato nods. “Must I reiterate?”

Shaking your head “no” you looked down at your plate with pancakes, there was only a few left. Wanderer, Cyno, Dottore and Childe could feel their eyes twitching.

The sound of your fork clinking down onto the plate was heard and then your voice. “W-well.. I guess i don’t mind? I mean it’s a bit odd yes but why not? I haven’t been fed since I was a toddler.” You hummed.

Ayato’s lips curve upwards into a soft smile as he happily picked up your fork and stuck it in the cut pancake before placing his palm under your chin.

“Say aaaah~” You opened your mouth and said “aaaah” before chewing on the pancake, humming happily. Ayato slid the fork out of your mouth and smiled fondly at you. You were so adorable.

Thoma peeked his head out to look at Ayato feeding you, he was jealous. Why hadn’t he thought of feeling you before? It was too late now. The others stared at he fed you, suddenly a horde of men came running behind Ayato and chiming in, saying that they wanted to feed you too.

Goodness.. but it was fun to see them all fight to feed you, you had never gotten so much attention before so this was something and, to your shame, you enjoyed it.

Unfortunately, they could not take turns to feed you as that would be time consuming. They all went back to their spots and finished eating their food while sulking. After everyone had finished their food they set it inside your sink, Thoma offered to clean them and you thanked him.

You felt bad for Thoma just cleaning the dishes by himself but even when you offered to help him he shushed you with his finger pressed against your lips and told you it would be okay.

To even lay a finger on their grace without their consent was simply unforgiving. But for some reason being by your side made them so comfortable, as if you had been their friends since childhood. Was this the many affects you had on them?

After all of the dishes were washed and Thoma joined you all in the living room, you were sitting down on the couch sandwiched between Cyno and Al-haitham. Thoma noticed how majority of them looked tense and irritated, he eyed them down before seating himself down on the floor beside the others.

What Thoma had missed (somewhat as he could still hear the commotion from the other side) was everyone fighting to sit next to you. They were threatening each other and the taller and stronger men would be holding the smaller men, laughing at them.

Like how Capitano was holding Wanderer in his hand, chuckling as he found Wanderer spitting insults and threats at his face, funny. Which he did not like at all.

And in all honestly they could’ve started a war and use their powers if not for the fact that Childe had pointed out that Cyno and Al-haitham had sat themselves down by your side without them noticing.

Before anyone could’ve gotten hurt or broke anything in your house you calmed them down, telling them in a stern voice that if they broke anything you would never talk to them ever again, and it worked because they were all scared of that happening so they sat down obediently.

Wanderer and Lyney sat beside your legs and somewhat hugged them, almost scared that if they did you would scold them or find them creepy (they just wanted to be by your side).

“Hm.. what should we watch? Is there anything in particular you guys enjoy?” You hummed, skimming through Netflix, trying to find a movie for you guys to enjoy and bond over.

But there was a problem. Everybody had their preferences, some wanted horror while the others furiously shake their heads no. Some wanted rom-com but the others immediately shook their heads no.

“Oooh how about some action and adventure? Like Ant-man?” You said, pressing on the Ant-man movies as they read out the summary.

Everybody agreed on that movie and you weren’t sure if they agreed because you chose it or what.. they did choose it because you wanted it.

Not only that but it also sounded interesting. “Ant-man.. that sounds interesting! Why does he have to be an ant..? Why not a tiger or something?” Gorou questioned, looking up at you as he cocked his head to the side.

God.. he was so adorable!! Even if he didn’t mean to do the puppy-dog eyes, he still did them and he looked so squishable!

“Well I have no clue, but it sounds interesting doesn’t it? That’s why we should watch it!” The others surrounding you hummed in agreement. Standing up you walked towards the wall.

“Where are you going?”

“Turning off the lights to get into the mood.”

After turning off the lights Itto ooh’ed and got all giddy, to which wanderer gave the stank eye to him. You plopped down beside Cyno and Al-haitham and pressed the play button on the remote and set it down on the table in front of you.

During the movie there were tons of reactions, some were laughing from the comedic lines, some were nonchalant and unbothered by everything but they would sit up and lean forward a bit whenever the action would come on.

Some even teared up or straight out sobbed during the sad scenes (ahem you and Kaveh were crying and he just wanted to cling onto you crying but he was so far apart, Cyno and Al-haitham were unsure whether or not to comfort you but you weren’t in your sad feels just.. very emotional over the mother and daughter scene but they still pat you on your head and offered you tissues ahem ahem) while Xiao teared up a little bit but swiftly wiped it away before Zhongli could tease him.

Al-haitham, Dainsleif, Capitano, Pantalone and Diluc were nonchalant during the movie, only moving to get up to get more snacks. Lyney, Childe, Itto and Gorou were somewhat commenting on the movie and only got a smack from Dainsleif when they got loud.

Ayato, Kaeya, Kazuha and Freminet were all very invested in the story, plot and action. Even wincing and laughing when the characters did so too.

Baizhu was coughing every now and then with Neuvillette offering him water to drink to soothe his throat. Unfortunately many did not like how the dialogue would be interrupted by Baizhu’s coughing but before they could yell at him to shush, you would tell them to be quiet and that it wasn’t his fault—Baizhu was grateful for you and almost started to cough even more loudly from gratitude.

Aether, Heizou and Albedo were super into the action and fighting scenes. Occasionally scolding the characters in their head and planning what they would’ve done.

Venti asked you if you had any wine to offer him, you shook your head no telling him that you didn’t drink. Zhongli and Neuvillette’s urge to slap Venti was large but they thankfully restrained themselves.

Wriothesley was the only one that was watching everything going down, and always missing the part that was big in the plot. Reason why? He was watching you in awe of course, as your eyes widened and your mouth formed an “O” at an intense fighting scene or how you gasp or yelp at a jump scare.

But to tell the truth everybody was watching you like how Wriothesley was watching you.

And after one movie after another, you grabbed your phone and looked at the time, thinking you were going to see maybe 1 pm or somewhere in the afternoon, it read 8 pm.

“Already? How quick..” you mumbled under your breath, Cyno sneaked in a glance at your phone and realised it was already 8.

“Should we end the movies now? I mean I think everybody is getting a little tired now..” Cyno states, you peep your head forward and look at everybody on the floor and around you, they did seem sleepy.

“Mhm, okay, I’ll go get the guest bedroom ready and more mattresses.” You got up from the couch and began to get everything. “I’ll put everything away!” Thoma chimed in, standing up as well before putting everybody’s snacks and drinks away.

Cyno and Al-haitham got up, followed by Wanderer and Kaveh, and soon everybody got up, stretching their arms and yawning. “Geez, we watched for so long..” Childe mumbled, blinking his eyes tiredly at the TV.

Soon, Al-haitham began to walk towards your room hoping to find you there to which he did. “Y/n. Do you need any help?”

You turned around and smiled at Al-haitham sleepily. “Sure, I think I need a little help..” you mutter, holding the matter but higher to indicate you needed help with settling everything down.

Al-haitham nodded and walked towards you, grabbing the mattress and setting it down before grabbing the pillows and blanket, placing them on the mattress before glancing at you.

You seemed so tired after watching so many movies in the dark, it’s a wonder how you didn’t manage to fall asleep. Al-haitham sighs.

“Here, let me do everything okay? You get ready for bed and rest, alright?”

You glance up at him as he was much taller than you, you blink at him before furrowing your brows. “You sure? You don’t need any help at all?” Al-haitham shakes his head.

“Well alright then, thank you!” Smiling, you move towards your bathroom and as you stepped foot inside you closed the door shut.

While you were getting ready for bed, Al-haitham was making sure there were enough mattresses for everybody while keeping sure in mind that there was a guest bedroom as well.

You finished getting ready and opened the door, leaving the bathroom and found two mattresses down on the floor that could at least have two people on them. Al-haitham was truly kind and you wanted to reward him for doing something he didn’t have to do.

“You’re done? Well I finished everything so I’ll go call them to come inside. I’ll make sure they don’t make a fuss over who sleeps with you and sleeps on the floor.”

As Al-haitham was about to leave you grab ahold of his muscular arm. You didn’t expect it to be so muscular despite your eyes ogling at it since his release and arrival at your place.

“U-uhm, if you want.. since you’ve helped me how about you sleep in my bed? You don’t have to say yes! I just want to do something in return for you helping me.. I mean you really didn’t have to.”

Al-haitham stared down at you as you continued to hold onto his arm only to release your grip when you realise he wasn’t responding. “Oh, whoops my bad.”

You almost take his silence as a no when he speaks abruptly. “I.. thank you, I’ll take the offer, thank you again.” He replied softly, his eyes focused on you before averting eye contact and clearing his throat.

“I-I’ll Go get them now.” He mumbles, walking off into the living room to go grab them. You sighed and flopped down onto your neatly made bed.

All you were wearing was a tank top and shorts, it was what you normally wore and now that you were sharing a house with men it made you feel somewhat insecure, but still, the best thing in the world was feeling your bare skin touching the cold sheets.

You soon covered yourself with the covers and made yourself comfortable, grabbing one of your plushies and cuddling it, waiting for the men to come flooding in your room.

When are they going to com..

Just as you thought about them, they came through the door like a horde, all fighting over who was going to sleep next to you before Al-haitham stopped them from trampling over the mattresses with his hands like it was nothing.

“One at a time. And Y/n already said I was going to be sleeping next to her.” He said, almost in a smug tone like he was proud of you choosing him and decided to show it off.

“Okay and? There’s still one more slot!” Childe scoffed before Wanderer groaned. “Childe you literally slept with Y/n yesterday you ginger-“ “watch your mouth you purple mushroom head-“

Al-haitham sighed deeply and walked towards your bed, watching as you peeped your head to the side to see Childe and Wanderer yell insults at one another.

“Don’t mind those idiots.” Al-haitham states bluntly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Kazuha, Aether, Heizou and Ayato makes their way around everybody and begins to make themselves comfortable and take off a few of their article of clothings before lying down on the mattresses.

Finally, everybody sorted themselves out and figured out where they would sleep. With you blind choosing whoever would be the other people to sleep next to you which was Dainsleif.

Kaveh, Baizhu, Itto, Wanderer and the rest would be sleeping in the guest room much to their sadness. While Kazuha, Aether, Heizou, Ayato, Zhongli, and all that weren’t sleeping in the guest bedroom made their way to each mattress.

Everybody settled themselves on the mattresses and some even turned on the fan as they complained about it being too “hot”.

Dainsleif climbed onto the bed and took off his cape and a few other things. Al-haitham removed the covers and covered himself with the blanket.

You glanced over at Dainsleif and raised your brows. “I don’t want to be rude but aren’t you going to take off your mask?”

Dainsleif looks over at you before smiling softly, “well of course, I’ll remove it later on don’t worry. Just try and get some rest okay?” You hummed and sank down into the bed, sighing in content from being surrounded by the warmth of two very handsome men.

It’s silent and dark with only the sound of the softly humming fan. Everybody was awake and you knew it. You could hear the soft breathing of Al-haitham and Dainsleif coming from both sides of you. Soon, a thought and realisation pops in your mind.

“Wait, you guys didn’t go shower yet.. right?”

“…. Yeah..”

You sighed, knowing that you would probably have to go shopping tomorrow for clothes and sanitary products aaaand probably go broke.

> ✧ part three

note: THIS TOOK ME LIKE A COUPLE HOURS TO WRITE?? ALSO SPARE ME WITH ANYTHING RELATED TO GRAMMAR AND SPELLING I PROOF READ IT BUT AT THE SAME TIME I WAS TIRED SO.. ALSO. Im glad that you guys are enjoying this series so much 😭😭 honestly didn’t expect so many liking this so thank you guys so much!! I hope I continue to reach your expectations.

(also guys drop some suggestions or scenarios in my inbox that I could possibly add to the next chapters!)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchijii @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @goldenglow149 @rhwm @urlocalheizousimp @hex-vx @saltylovetale @backintomykpopphaseagain @toramune @oreo-ren @serenity-loves-red @flooofity @minteasketches @amaizverydum @lovelive-animequeen1029 @roseapov @yuraasia @chellazhef @fulldoves @kateybuggi @wanderingconstellations (if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter!)

if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few

liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

[loveinhawkins]

Sprawled across Steve’s couch, apropos of nothing, Robin says, “They’d be good Halloween costumes. Like, there’s three of us.”

Eddie blinks at her.

Robin blinks back, as if she’s being perfectly reasonable, as if she’s just continuing an ongoing conversation—when in reality, she’s been silently staring into space for the past minute.

“Buckley. Y’know I can’t actually read your mind, right?”

“Uh, no excuse,” Robin says disapprovingly. “Steve can do it just fine.”

“That’s a completely different—you do see how that’s—”

“It’s ‘cause Molly Pritchard,” Steve begins, in his honestly, catch up, Munson tone, “kept annoying the shit out of Robin—”

“Excuse me, that’s a blatant mischaracterisation and you know—”

“Annoying the shit out of you,” Steve repeats, undeterred.

Robin scoffs. “She kept going on, like, okay, we get it, you saw a Broadway show, whoop-de-doo—”

“Do I detect a note of jealousy, Buckley?” Eddie says, and hurriedly avoids Robin kicking him in the shin.

“No, she’s just completely detached from real life! Like, yeah, I’m sure Singin’ in the Rain was just wonderful, and oh, at the Gershwin, you say? Lucky you. Not all of us were having a positively darling Spring Break in New York, some of us were—” Robin breaks off, gesturing uncertainly before settling on, “Busy.”

“That’s one word for it,” Eddie says.

“Anyway, that wasn’t the—Molly Pritchard rambling on was just the, like, catalyst for—she wasn’t the point. The point is—” Robin stops again, flounders, then whacks Steve on the shoulder. “Steve, I had a point, where is it?”

“Halloween costumes,” Steve says patiently.

“Right! She reminded me, there’s, like, three leads right there. Sort of. We should do it, I’ve never really done group costumes before—”

“For the hypothetical Halloween party we haven’t been invited to,” Eddie points out.

“Shh, details. And they’re not, like, ridiculously complicated—Steve, you’ve definitely got a couple suits just lying around—”

“Why does that feel like an insult?” Steve asks the ceiling.

“But uh, Robin,” Eddie says, “I thought you hated wearing heels?”

A deafening silence.

“Well,” Robin replies eventually. “I don’t know what bright idea you’ve got going on in your head, Eddie Munson, but I’m gonna be Gene Kelly.”

Steve chuckles. “Attagirl,” he says, raising his drink in approval.

He’s drinking coke out of a wine glass—according to Steve, it suits him. Eddie half-hates the fact that he’s right.

“And then the only thing we’d have to really look out for would be tap shoes, and we could—”

“Woah, hold your horses,” Steve says. “We’re definitely getting kicked outta the hypothetical party.”

“Why?” Eddie says. “Does Hawkins hate musicals now, too?”

“Tap shoes,” Steve says, as if Eddie’s being particularly dense. “Dude, we’re gonna, like, immediately scratch up the floor. We could only walk on carpet, and then what’s the point of wearing tap shoes in the first—”

“That’s… a very specific problem,” Eddie says.

“Yeah,” Robin says with narrowed eyes. “Very specific.”

Steve shifts in his seat. “No, it’s not. I just—I just know things, sometimes. Sue me.”

“Yeah, you do,” Robin says. Her eyes are still narrowed. “You know many things, Steve. But why do you know this particular—”

“I just do! There’s no—”

“I think,” Robin declares, “we should all put on our deerstalkers—”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, I regret ever introducing you to Dustin.”

“—to figure out exactly why you know that.”

Robin looks at Eddie pointedly.

Eddie assesses Steve, then shrugs. “Uh, he’s really protective over floorboards?”

Steve’s veneer of exasperation completely melts away; he snorts, and Eddie pretends he doesn’t feel the achievement flutter in his chest.

“Hopeless,” Robin says, stretching out languidly. “Completely and utterly—”

She sprints out of the room.

“Wha—Robin,” Steve says indignantly, but he’s laughing, jumps up from the couch and grins at Eddie as if to say come on, then. “Get back here!”

Eddie laughs too, following Steve up the stairs, into his bedroom, where Robin’s pulling things out of the closet with gleeful abandon.

“if my theory is correct…” she says, head barely visible.

“You really have been spending too much time with Dustin,” Steve mutters.

“Aha!”

And Robin emerges with a shoebox in her hands, and she’s opening it up, tossing out tissue paper, and then—

Steve groans.

Eddie’s lips twitch. “Oh.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says entirely without heat.

“I was right,” Robin crows. She holds the little pair of tap shoes as if they’re made of glass. “Steve. Steve.”

“Oh, you can shut up, too.”

“They’re precious.”

“No, they’re not—”

“Eddie’ll back me up, won’t you, Eddie?” Robin says sweetly.

Steve gives him a faux warning look. “Don’t encourage her, man.”

And Eddie has a joke right on the tip of his tongue, he swears he does, but his eyes are fixed on the goddamn shoes, and he can’t stop his fond smile from showing; his heart does a weird but not unpleasant skip in his chest, and what comes out is—

“You were tiny.”

Steve flushes. “What, did you think I just popped into existence at school?”

“Sometimes,” Eddie says, tongue-in-cheek.

Steve chuckles, face still red; Eddie’s heart sings.

Robin’s placing the tap shoes back into their box, oh so carefully. “Steve, please tell me there’re photos of—oh, there are,” she says triumphantly, as Steve groans again. “You gonna show us? Please?” “Uh, no,” Steve says firmly—and oh, Eddie thinks, that absolutely means he’s gonna cave by the time dawn peeks through the curtains and show them a whole damn album.

Robin seems to know this too, because she beams before setting off again, this time beckoning them, “Come on, come on! We can practice in our socks so we won’t scratch the precious floor, Steve.”

“Uh, practice?” Eddie asks.

“The choreography, duh.”

“Wait,” Steve says, “how do you even remember the—”

“The Hawk showed it once. They did a whole classic movies theme sometimes.”

Eddie vaguely remembers that: the theme ended with a showing of It’s A Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve.

And they give a hilariously bad attempt at the choreography, laughing at their socks muffling the sound of their heavy footsteps.

They wobble precariously on the top of the couch, spill coke all down the back of it. Every so often, Eddie notices that Steve’s hand is holding onto his shoulder for balance, for a little longer than is strictly necessary.

And he feels…

Light. Giddy.

God, it’s the most fun he’s had in years.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you 

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you 

dude 

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering 

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that 

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins 

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers 

wow 

fuck you

just landed 

thought you might like to know 

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess 

September 2021

dude enough okay 

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk 

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you   

November 2021 

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm 

idk why i’m trying again  

maybe i should block you 

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck 

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was 

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige 

merry christmas i guess

March 2022 

i misz you 

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich 

pkese pick up 

ignore that 

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you 

wait 

i don’t need to tell you that 

you already ignore it all anyways

 

August 2022 

i heard about the acl 

i’m sorry 

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm 

***

September 2022 

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more. 

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.  

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed. 

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake. 

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend. 

 “And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly. 

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly. 

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy. 

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else.  You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod. 

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it. 

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so,  “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest. 

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm. 

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.” 

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.  

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall. 

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free. 

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart. 

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.  

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it. 

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue. 

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

*** 

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet. 

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer. 

“You wanna see my dorm?” 

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice. 

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air. 

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack. 

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile. 

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things. 

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts. 

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin. 

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten. 

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it. 

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force. 

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having. 

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself. 

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat. 

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota  state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy. 

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour. 

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other. 

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus. 

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk. 

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes. 

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.” 

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that. 

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together. 

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts. 

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard. 

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking. 

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane. 

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously,  “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches. 

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid. 

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost. 

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,”  Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be. 

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps. 

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on. 

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears. 

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back. 

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore. 

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need. 

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something.  It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi. 

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step. 

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile. 

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her. 

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.” 

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen. 

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her. 

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing  “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that. 

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?” 

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her. 

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away. 

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again. 

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?” 

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch. 

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people. 

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige. 

“You having fun?” 

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch. 

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface. 

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together. 

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste. 

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths. 

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety. 

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back. 

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall. 

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that. 

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly. 

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable. 

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing. 

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed. 

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it. 

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.” 

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it. 

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear. 

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most. 

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck. 

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s. 

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up. 

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance. 

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

[momowritings]

it’s just… the thought of Toji finally growing some gray hairs is getting to me …

Toji is not vain by any means, but growing older is scary. It’s a reminder that his time is limited. He finally turned his life around but now he feels like he’s running out of time. When he’s shaving and he finds those grey hairs he pauses for a moment, reflecting on his life choices, he’s kinda lost in the moment until you walk into the bathroom again.

“You missed a spot,” you point out, wrapping your arms on his waist.

“Oh yeah, yeah you’re right.” You frown at him, noting the far away look in his eyes. You lean back on the counter to face him and tug on his shirt.

“You okay baby?”

“I’m fine.” But it’s not fine. His voice is still too quiet. This wouldn’t do at all and you couldn’t just leave it as it was.

“Okay, what’s on your mind?” A few beats of silence pass by before he meets your gaze. He looked unsteady, which was something you’ve never seen from your husband before.

“Do you notice anything different about me?”

The question took you by surprise. Has you missed something? A new hair cut maybe? Your eyes flick over his body trying to spot the change. “Different? Different how?”

His ears flamed red. He turned away before you can inspect further. “Never mind. Forget about it.”

“Wait did I say something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t do anything. I’m just getting too old it seems,” he said with a dry chuckle. You frown again at the thought, hoping that he wasn’t doubting himself.

“Too old? Now why would you think that?”

He turned his head to show you his side burns that were slowly greying, and you run your hands through them.

“I think it looks nice. You’d make an attractive silver fox.”

“Isn’t it too early for that?”

“Maybe,” you hum. “But you have had a lot of stressful events over the years. It’s doesn’t look bad at all.” You gave him a reassuring smile but he still didn’t look convinced.

“I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us.”

“That’s what you’re worried about? Toji, you do know I’m aging the same time you do, right? The days are moving through the both of us, making us move a little slower than the last time. It doesn’t mean anything bad though. Everybody has to go through it.”

“But you’re young now. You shouldn’t be tied down with me.”

“You can’t choose that for me,” you say firmly. “I like what we have so far. I want to be with you, and Megumi, and the dogs. I want to share more birthdays and holidays together. I want to show you my grey hairs when they finally show.”

Toji falls silent and you sigh. You wrap your arms around his waist, trying your hardest to dispel his worries through the touch, pouring as much love and confidence you could.

“I never thought the day would come that I would have to tell you not to care what other people think. You’ve done it so many times for me and for that I’m grateful. If anyone assumes anything other than love between us they are bitter and lonely. They can’t believe that two people can love each other with no other ulterior motives, because it is something that is hard to find. But we know the truth so I don’t pay them any mind, so neither should you, okay?”

Toji made a gruff sound that vibrates through your body. You wanted to look up at him but decided against it.

“Plus everybody knows that men get finer with age. I’ll have to carry a stick around to whack away touchy people.”

“I do that all the fucking time with men looking at you.”

“Great. Now we can be the super hot couple that’s mean to everybody but each other.” You look up at him and smile. You don’t comment on his watery eyeline but press a kiss into his cheek.

“Finish shaving, I’ll get Megumi ready.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 12

Day Eleven | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Thirteen

Pairing: Will Miller x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Notes: Thank you to everyone who voted in this poll!!

Warnings: Established relationship; FLUFF; formal wear; oral sex; safe sex

Your dress fit perfectly, your shoes were by the front door, you’d transferred everything you needed over to your matching purse…Hell, you were basically all ready to go. You glanced toward your phone as you picked up your earring, lowering your hand to quickly tap the screen. It lit up, flashing the photo of Will hugging you from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You smiled a little at the sight, then swept your eyes up to the time. Against all odds, you were ready with time to spare. 

“Hey, hon?” You called out, “How are you doing?” 

“Just fixing my tie.” 

“You need help?” 

“I’ve got it.”

“Captain William Miller, ladies and gentlemen,” You muttered to yourself, reaching for your other earring, “The definition of efficiency.” 

“Your shoes and your purse are out here!” Will called back. 

“That’s on purpose!” 

You straightened, smoothing your hands over your dress as you left the room. You rounded into the hall, spotting the broad set of Will’s shoulders by your front entry way. 

“How’s the tie looking?” 

“You tell me.” He turned to face you, brows raised, expectant of your scrutiny. You stilled, eyes widening slightly as you looked him over. The navy blue suit fit him to a tee. His shoes were polished; his light blue tie brought out his eyes. When you lifted your gaze back to his face, you found him smiling as you came closer. 

“I assume you like what you see?” 

“What makes you say that?” You asked dazedly. 

“You had a similar expression the first time you saw me naked.” 

The reminder made you splutter, embarrassed, and lightly whack his arm once he was close enough. 

“I did not,” You grumbled. “You just…Look criminally good in a suit,” You looked over him again openly. 

Will huffed a soft laugh, grasping you by the hips and drawing you closer. 

“You look beautiful.” 

“It’s a good dress.”

“It’s not just the dress.”

His quiet sincerity warmed you the way it always does. You leaned in, giving him a gentle kiss, then another as you fought the urge to curl your fingers in the fabric of his suit. 

“I tell ya,” You sighed, drawing away. “If my cousin wasn’t the one getting married, we wouldn’t even make it out of this apartment right now.” 

“Is that so?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” 

“I’m starting to get one. Come here.” 

“What?” 

Your heart leapt into your throat as you watched him kneel down. That wasn’t—He wasn’t about to propose, was he? Right before your cousin’s wedding? You hadn’t even said your first I love yous yet! What the hell was he thinking—?!

Your mind went quiet as you watched Will pick up your right high heel, waving you closer. Hoo, boy, okay. That was a harrowing four seconds. And the fact that your mind even went there in the first place—what the hell did that mean? You walked closer, steadying your hand on his shoulder as you stepped into the shoe, smiling as he adjusted the strap and the buckle. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” You murmured. 

“I don’t mind. You just got your nails done.” He helped you into the left shoe before straightening. “All set?” 

“Mhm!” 

-- 

“You’re staring.” 

“I’m not staring.” 

Will’s eyes were focused on the road, both hands on the wheel, so it felt like a plausible enough lie. It wasn't as if the man had eyes on the side of his head...Though his peripheral vision was stellar.

“I can literally feel you watching me,” Will argued. You didn’t bother to argue this time. Your mind was already moving elsewhere. Why had you assumed that Will was kneeling down to propose? He’d already reminded you that your shoes were out there; he knew that the straps were finicky, he knew that you’d just done your nails for the wedding. 

Did you want that with Will? Did he want that with you? Did you even want to get married? Did he? The two of you had never bothered to get on the same page about those things.

“What’s going on over there?” 

Will’s gentle prodding snapped you out of your train of thought. You shook your head a little and drew in a deep breath through your nose.

“Nothing.” 

“C’mon, baby, I know you better than that.” Will brought the car to a stop at the red, turning his head to get a better look at you. You smiled as he met your eye, unable to help the little fluttering in your belly. You always felt it when Will looked at you. You’d felt it since the day you met, and you knew you would feel it every day you were with him…Those would make cute vows…Damnit, focus!

“Hey,” Will murmured, raising his hand and gently trailing his knuckles gently along your cheek. “Where’d you just go?” 

You turned your head, brushing your lips against his hand. 

“I’m right here,” You insisted. Will’s brow rose in clear disbelief, but he didn't push. He turned back to the road as the light changed, lowering his hand to rest on your thigh. You sank into your seat, resting your hand atop his and turning to look out through the windshield. 

“...Just thinking, that’s all,” You admitted. “About the wedding and stuff.” 

“What about it?” 

You couldn’t tell him the truth now, right? It would sound silly. It could ruin the vibe for the rest of the day. 

“Just hoping my family will behave themselves,” You fibbed. Will squeezed your thigh reassuringly, offering,

“I’m sure it’ll be alright. They know how important today is to your cousin.” 

“Oh, I know that they know. They’re just not always as considerate as they should be. Speaking of which—” 

“If I’m cornered by your Aunt Linda, I should excuse myself as quickly as possible. I remember.” 

“Okay. Good,” You chuckled. Your stomach churned as Will pulled the car into the venue’s parking lot, and into a space. He shut the car off, but he didn’t hurry to get out. Instead, he turned his hand over in yours, intertwining your fingers. 

“Listen, worse comes to worse, I'll fake an emergency and tell them we have to go," He offered.

“Do you already have one in your back pocket, because these people can smell an unprepared liar a mile off.” 

“Ben had a fight two nights ago, took a hard hit. He said that he was fine, ignored the fact that the ring doctor told him that he had a concussion and needed to take it easy. Fish is taking him to the hospital, but I have to go and I’m not leaving without you.” 

Your brows inched up, a stunned smile growing on your lips. 

“Damn, Miller. That’s almost frighteningly impressive.” 

“If it’s only almost frighteningly impressive, I can keep workshopping it.” 

You snorted a laugh, slapping your hand over your mouth before the sound could spill out. Will reached up, taking hold of the other hand and catching your lips in a sweet kiss. He rested his forehead against yours as you settled, his nose brushing gently against yours. 

“It’s going to be fine, baby,” He promised. 

“And if you hate it at any time, we can leave,” You offered, “You tell me and we will be out of there.” 

“Deal.” 

-- 

“And you will not believe this contraption that they had to break out out to saw through my calluses—”

“I’m so sorry, can I borrow her for a moment?” Will’s voice was like an angel from on high as he broke into the conversation. Aunt Linda’s eyes flashed, a salacious smile blooming on her looks as she took Will in. 

“I do hope you’re talking about me, William,” She purred. You glanced up in time to see Will’s tight smile. 

“Not this time, Miss Linda. Excuse us,” He took hold of one of your hands, resting the other on your lower back before gently steering you away. You leaned into him, sighing softly once you were out of earshot of your aunt. 

“Your timing is impeccable, William.” 

He chuckled, letting go of you just long enough to pluck two champagne flutes off of a passing tray before nodding you toward the patio. You took one of the flutes as you stepped outside, sighing in the cool night air. It was a surprise to find that no one else was out there, but you weren’t complaining. You needed a break from your family. You took a sip of the champagne, leaning against the wide marble railing the surrounded the space. You turned to Will, smiling as he leaned against the railing beside you. 

“Has it been excruciating?” You asked. 

“No.” 

“C’moooon, you can tell me. They’re my family and they’re driving me up the wall.” 

“Honestly, baby, they haven’t been that bad.” 

“Not even Linda blatantly wanting to bang you like a screen door in a hurricane?” 

Will shrugged. “I seem to recall having a similar effect on you this morning. Maybe it’s the suit.”

“You’ve had that effect on me many more times than that and you know it,” You chuckled, “Though I do have to say…” You raised your hand, lightly fingering his lapel. “Something about you in a suit…I don’t know. It’s really doing it for me.” 

“Is that so.” 

“Mhm,” You hummed, peering at him from beneath your lashes. “I need to get invited to more fancy things.” 

“So you can see me in a suit more often?” 

“Exactly.” 

“How often are you thinking?” 

“Oh, once a month, at least.” 

“Once a month?”

“At least. Every other month if I have to—once a quarter at the barest of bare minimums.” 

Will set his champagne flute aside, curling his arms around you and drawing you closer. 

“Well what about you, huh?” He murmured. 

“What about me?” 

“Would we both be getting dressed up once a quarter?” 

“I’m sure I could arrange that, if that’s what you want,” You shrugged. Will hummed thoughtfully, a contemplative pout forming on his lips. 

“Or, we could pick a date night every couple of months and get dressed up.” 

“A fancy date?” 

“Do you wanna go skydiving in a suit?” 

“...My knee-jerk answer is no, but that kinda sounds cool as hell—Like, I don’t think I’d ever actually wanna go skydiving!” You hurried to add as Will laughed, “But if I did, I think I’d want it to be my fancy clothes.” 

Will leaned in, nuzzling into your neck and drawing in the scent of your perfume. You felt him lift his head, his carefully groomed beard brushing your shoulder. 

“Tell you what else,” Will murmured. 

“Mmm?” 

“I can’t wait to get you home and see what’s underneath that dress.” 

Your eyes widened, stunned at his nonchalant admission. You turned to look at him as he leaned away, and found his face vacant of expression as he reached back, taking up his champagne flute and taking a sip. He lowered his eyes to yours, shooting you a wink. This man was going to be the absolute death of you. 

“If you’d rather I didn’t, I can always see if Aunt Linda is free,” he added, lowering his glass again. 

“Oh, please. Linda would chew you up and spit you out.” 

--  

“That wasn’t so bad. “

“Are you kidding me?” You glanced back at Will as you headed for the kitchen. You were on the verge of being exhausted. Your feet were killing you from being in those damn heels all night; you didn’t even want to think about the little dents that your shapewear would leave when you finally peeled it off. Will looked just as composed as ever, though he’d loosened his tie in the car.  You sighed heavily, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter and swinging your legs back and forth. 

“No, I’m not kidding you,” Will shook his head, leaning in the doorway. “You were worried about your family being on their best behavior, right? I thought they seemed pretty reasonable…I mean, Linda was, you know.” 

“Linda was Linda. Linda is Linda no matter what anyone says, and while it occasionally makes me wildly uncomfortable, I sort of respect it.” 

“Did you respect it when she nearly hip-checked you out of the way to catch the bouquet?” 

“Doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause I snatched that sucker right out of the air,” You remind him, thrusting the bouquet into the air. Will laughed, nodding. 

“It was very impressive,” He insisted, closing the distance between the two of you. You grinned as he smoothed his hands down your thighs, lightly hooking them in the fabric of your dress and pushing it up around your knees, his fingers brushing along your skin as he did. 

“Well. I’m naturally very impressive, so,” You insisted, setting the bouquet down beside you. “Just in case you needed the reminder.” 

“Oh, I hadn’t forgotten.” Will slipped his hands up beneath your dress, palming your thighs as he crowded up against you. You raised your hand, curling it lightly around his tie and using it to draw him closer. You sighed softly as his lips met yours, grip tightening on the fabric as his tongue teased between your lips. You sucked in a soft gasp as Will’s hands snaked around the back of your thighs, tugging you toward the edge of the counter. His broke your heated kiss, grasping you by the nape and tipping your head back as his lips traveled lower. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” You admitted. 

“It’s a good suit.” 

You unwound your hand from Will’s tie and cupped his chin, forcing him to look at you. You shook your head, lovingly sweeping your gaze over his face as you insisted, “It’s not just the suit.” 

Will graced you with a wide, almost bashful grin before he leaned in for another kiss. He hooked one hand beneath your knee, drawing your leg up to undo the little buckle. You groaned softly as the strap loosened, and you wiggled your foot, letting the heel fall to the floor. He did the other next, and you sighed as you flexed your toes, then wrapped your legs around the backs of his. Your fingers made short work of his tie knot, then undid each of his shirt buttons, revealing more and more of his muscled chest to you. He shrugged his jacket and shirt off as one, and you almost mourned the sound of the two of them crumpling on the floor. 

Will reached up, undoing the zipper on the back of your dress. As it was pulled lower, the straps on your shoulders grew looser, sagging against your shoulders. You groaned as he reached under your dress, fingers skimming the edges of your shapewear. You broke your kiss, insisting, “Bed—Now.” 

-- 

You giggled as you lifted your hips from the mattress, letting Will peel back your shapewear and toss it back in the direction of your dress and strapless bra had been thrown as soon as you’d entered your bedroom. He leaned over you, smoothing his lips over the little dips and dents left by the material. He pushed your thighs wide as he settled between them, his kisses trailing over your inner thigh. You tipped your hips enticingly toward him as he neared your pussy—and then skipped over it, trailing kisses along your other thigh. You whined in frustration, pouting as Will shot you a smug grin. His eyes stayed trained heavily on yours as he lapped over your tingling cunt. He held that eye contact—at least, he tried to. His eyelids fluttered as he tasted you, then slipped completely closed as he moaned, lapping at your core, his beard brushing over your tender skin. 

You sagged back into the mattress, your hand winding into his hair as he indulged in the taste and scent of you. You didn’t use your grip to guide or steer him—you didn’t need to. Will took every little shift, sigh, whimper, and throb as guidance without you having to say or do a thing. He swirled the pad of his finger around your twitching hole before easing it in gently. He eased another in moments later, giving a soft, approving hum against your clit as your cunt clutched at them. He twisted and curled them, driving them in and out again at a steady rhythm, drawing you closer and closer to release. He rested his head on your thigh, his tongue swiping against your clit as your hips pressed down into his touch. 

“Will,” You breathed, swallowing thickly as he tipped his head to look up at you. “Not yet.” 

Will smiled, pressing another little kiss to your clit before he drew away. You bit your lip, watching him kneel up on the bed, and eying the swell in his trousers. Your mouth watered as you heard the clank of his belt, and you pushed yourself onto your hands and knees. You crawled the short distance to him, undoing the button and zip on his pants. You peppered kisses along the trail of pubic hair leading to his waistband, smiling as he pushed his pants and briefs down to his knees. 

You grasped his cock at the base, stroking it gently as your kisses grew closer and closer. You smoothed your hand down to massage his sack as you pillowed your lips along the side, tracing up to the head. He hissed softly at the first swipe of your tongue against his glans, and sighed as you took him between your lips. You bobbed your head slowly, laving your tongue along the veined underside as you drew your head back, and widening your mouth as you took him in. Will rested his hand on your head, simply letting it stay there rather than guide you any deeper. You pulled off of his cock with a slick pop!, swiping your tongue back and forth just beneath his head. You glanced up at him, unable to help the smug grin that overtook you as you found his cheeks and chest flushed, his lips parted as he panted softly. You drew away from his cock completely, using your hand to pump the slick shaft as you leaned up for a kiss. 

Will groaned, lapping between your lips as he hauled you closer to him. 

“Lay back, baby,” He murmured. You lowered yourself back down onto the bed, letting go of him as he leaned over to your nightstand, grabbing a condom and the bottle of lube. 

-- 

The first press of his cock made your mouth fall open with a moan, your hands grasping his thick biceps as he slowly guided his cock deeper into you. You bit your lip to quiet yourself a bit, sliding your hands further up, your nails denting into his muscles. Will’s eyes were closed, his lips parted as yours had been. That sweet little flush was still high in his cheeks, and you watched as his tongue lapped over his plush lower lip. You leaned up, taking his lip between your teeth and tugging it gently, only letting go as he fully bottomed out. 

You pressed your hips up against his, urging him on. Will lowered himself close to you, your chests brushing together as his hips began to gyrate in tight, controlled circles. You wrapped your legs around his, your foot trailing up his calf as his thrusts picked up in pace. Will nudged your chin up, brushing kisses along the column of your throat until he reached the base. He pressed a reverent kiss there before he nipped at it roughly, chasing the sting with a harsh suck. You whimpered, tugging his hair as the sting bloomed and dissipated. Will planted his knees on the bed, lowering one hand to your hip as his thrusts became longer and more forceful. The slap of his hips against yours cut through the sounds of the two of you moaning and panting as you each inched closer to your climax.

You were the first to tip over the edge as Will slipped his fingers between the two of you, swirling your tender clit beneath his roughened fingertips. You moaned his name as you tightened around him, hips bounding up into his touch, and against his cock. He followed close behind, hips juddering against yours as he moaned against your throat. 

Your thrusts slowed, then stopped entirely as he settled. He sighed softly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your chin as he slowly drew away. You watched him through bleary eyes, tracking him as he got out of bed, tying the condom off and dropping it into the bin beside your bed before disappearing into the bathroom. You sighed softly, closing your eyes and wriggling, goosebumps sweeping across your skin as your thighs pressed together, sending a latent throb through you. 

Will reappeared a few moments later, a wet washcloth in his hands. You let him spread your legs, keeping still and murmuring your thanks as he cleaned you. He tossed the washcloth into your hamper, then climbed back into bed beside you, drawing the covers up as you cuddled against his chest. You turned your head, pressing gentle kisses to his chest and shoulders as you slid a leg between his. 

You closed your eyes, listening to the steady thumping of his heart beneath you, your fingers aimlessly tracing along his side. 

“Will?” 

“Mm?” 

“...I love you.” Panic set in as soon as it was out of your mouth, and you forced yourself to keep still and quiet—as if that would help. He was a man, not a t-rex. 

“You don’t have to say it back,” You added. Will was quiet for a moment, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

“...And if I want to say it back?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning like a dweeb. 

“I mean,” You shrugged, “I’m not gonna stop you.” 

Will chuckled, grasping your chin and tipping your head up to meet his gaze. 

“I love you, too, baby,” He murmured. You let yourself grin then, leaning up and pressing a tender kiss to his lips before settling back in. Will sighed softly, fingers stroking gently over your skin. 

“...You do know what being the one to catch the bouquet means,” He added after a few moments. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you blinked dumbly for a few moments. Was he…Did he just suggest…?

“Mhm!” You squeaked. Will nodded, murmuring, 

“Just making sure we’re on the same page.”

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[billlydear]

SUPERNOVA - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE)

word count: 3135 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: max's english tutor has a black eye and a shitty alibi. billy sees right through it.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending, mentions of abuse, injuries mentioned (black eye), reader is abused by her mother just like billy is by his father

A/N: thank you for 300 followers!!! have this as a little gift from me to you <3 basic biology part three is in the works, don't worry! i just wrote this in a fit of sleep deprived passion the other night after thinking about it for a week or so and i wanted to share :) i hope you enjoy! the ending of this is pretty straightforward and, though i plan to write more parts, this can be read on its own for now.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

There’s never a good reason for Max to stomp into Billy’s room. It’s always either her demanding a ride somewhere, asking for money, or shouting at him to turn his music down. This time, though, there’s no music playing, and it’s nearing 11:00 PM, so he’s not sure why she’d need money or a ride.

He glances up at her, really more of a glare, through his eyelashes, reclined against the wall as he lounges on his bed. He’s got a magazine in hand and the pages are as boring as the cover was, but he’d rather stare at faded jet ski advertisements than read the book he’s supposed to be working on for English.

She stops just inside the doorway, jacket on and shoes laced. He narrows his eyes at her, something of a question, and she sounds just as venomous as he looks when she replies.

“I need to borrow your window.” She mutters, piercing eyes set on him.

He’s heard her say a lot of weird things since they started living together. Mom, I can’t find my left rollerskate, Why is my bra in the freezer?, and We’re not going in the theater, we’re going to sit outside and talk, have previously topped the list but this is off the charts.

“Sure, Max,” He drawls, fingers tightening against the waxy magazine paper, “Just haul it back in here when you’re done, okay?”

“You know what I mean,” She huffs, already lunging for his bed. She practically topples him in her overzealous attempt to reach the window, and he shoots a hand out to steady himself as the mattress rocks. He has half a mind to kick her onto the floor but he watches her click a flashlight open from her jacket pocket, and stares with suspicious intrigue instead.

“Come on, come on,” She huffs, clicking the light on, off, on, off, “Where is she?”

“Who?” Billy leans forwards, peering out the window into the blackened neighborhood, “Jesus, Max, don’t go shining lights into people’s windows at night, they’ll think you’re some creep trying to watch them change.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you know that from experience,” She grumbles, shoving his hand away when he tries grabbing the light.

“I’m not kidding,” Billy seethes, muscled arm coming to combat her defenses, nearly shoving her off of the end of the bed, “What are you even trying to do, anyways?”

“I’m trying to talk to my tutor,” She snaps, landing a sharp slap to his thigh that reddens the skin there, “Butt out, butthead.”

“Assface,” Billy grumbles, rubbing at the tender spot on his leg with half a mind to whack her upside the head. She ignores him completely, desperately flicking the light at a ground floor window.

“Do you really need tutoring help now?” Billy groans, the incessant clicking preventing him from what was supposed to be his before-bed relaxation.

“She wasn’t at school today,” Max explains in a huff, “Or- like, she didn’t show up at my school. She called this morning to say she was sick, but she sounded fine, and I heard someone in the parking lot say that they saw her outside her house, just sitting there, like, really late last night.”

“So she was getting some fresh air,” Billy deadpans, “Now get out of my room.”

“Would it kill you to cooperate?” Max turns to him with such a judgemental stare that Billy’s surprised he doesn’t wither away right on the spot. Hell hath no fury like a teenage girl scorned, he thinks, annoyance bubbling in his chest.

“She’s obviously not coming,” Billy reasons, his patience wearing thin after almost two minutes of flashlight nonsense, “She’s probably sleeping. She’s got the flu or something, and you’re gonna wake her up and make her even more sick. Just leave her alone, and leave me alone.”

“I’m not asking you to be a part of this!” She gushes, jaw set in a hard frown and eyes rolling when he props his elbow up on the windowsill, cheek smushed into a bored expression against his palm.

“I just want to see if she’s okay, because she doesn’t normally get sick, and I haven’t seen her window open all day, and I really think that something might be wrong, so-”

After a staggering two minutes and forty-six seconds of morse code from hell, your curtains part. Max practically lights up at the sliver of light that appears between the drapes, but when your face pops between it, her breath hitches in a gasp.

Your eye is bruised. It’s swollen shut and purple, an ugly stain that blooms down your cheek, like a rose that sticks its thorns straight into Billy’s chest. His posture, previously saggy and bored, stiffens until he’s nearly pressed against the glass, brows furrowed in horror as his lips part ever-so-slightly.

“Oh my god,” Max breathes, and you regard them both with a weary gaze.

Max lifts the lower half of Billy’s window, slipping out the gap with such agility and speed that Billy doesn’t have a chance to try to stop her before she’s already outside. He rushes to follow her, cringing as his bare feet land in damp piles of leaves.

“What happened to you?” Max runs to your window, bracing her hands on the sill.

“Nothing,” You try to smile, and it pulls at the skin around your eye, finishing the expression off with a wince, “I just- it’s silly, okay? I slipped and fell on the ice out front and I hit the stair rail on the way down. I was too embarrassed to go to school, ‘cause I knew everyone would ask, so I just called out sick. I’m sorry, Max, I know today was our day, but I’ll do double time once this heals.”

The more you ramble, the quicker you spew your pre-determined speech, the more the thorns lodge themselves in Billy’s gut. It’s familiar behavior, having an outlandish excuse at your disposal, reciting it like poetry, blaming the bruises on a misstep down the stairs rather than a rage-fueled fist. He’s done the same to countless teachers, all staring down at him with a condescending sneer, assuming he’d instigated another fight.

Max might not be well acquainted with different types of bruises - and god he hopes she never has to be - but Billy certainly is. And your black eye is not from a stair railing, he knows that. It looks the same as his does whenever Neil decides he’s in a fighting mood, and it doesn’t seem like you have the frozen peas that Billy usually medicates his marks with.

“It’s okay!” Max promises, and thankfully she commands enough of your attention to where you don’t notice Billy’s grief-stricken stare, looking for all the world like he’d been punched in the gut.

‘It’s okay, we can just meet up some other time. Or- or I can come over to your house! So you don’t have to show your face anywhere. And I won’t tell,” She insists, hands dug snugly into the pockets of her jacket, “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

So are you, Billy notes, just not to the people with the same ones.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” You frown slightly, biting the inside of your cheek, “This really hurts, and it’s kind of giving me a headache, so… might be best to just meet when it’s healed.”

“That’s fine,” Max nods, reaching up and through the window to sling her arms around your neck in a rushed hug, “Just- call me when it’s better, okay? My teacher set us this new essay, and it’s got some stupidly complicated prompt, so I need your help figuring out-”

Billy watches as your head ticks up, eyes widening slightly as you tune into the sounds of your house. He knows the look all too well, you’ve heard someone coming.

“That’s great Max,” You stammer, reaching for the window pane to close it, "I’ve gotta go!”

“-how to… write it.” She finishes, face wrinkling in confusion when you slam the window shut, yanking the curtains closed, “Feel better…”

“Go,” Billy jumps to action, hearing a raised voice from within your room, not your own, “Max, move!”

He pushes her along the side of their house, shoving her around the back until they’re out of the line of sight from your window. He peers around the corner from behind an overgrown trellis, one that lets him see you without you seeing him. He waits with bated breath, ignoring Max’s indignant protests and slamming a hand over her mouth.

She licks his palm, but he manages to stay calm and keep it there. He will smear it on her cheek later, though.

Sure enough, Billy watches your curtains fly open. There’s a woman in the window now, and you’re standing behind her, expression unreadable. Then you speak, and Billy can’t hear it. Your voice must be soft, gentle, calming. The woman barrely reacts, eyes scanning wildly for whoever you’d been talking to. But Billy keeps Max quiet, pinching her hard when she tries escaping his grip.

Billy watches the woman in your window with a hatred he’s only ever felt towards Neil. She acts the same, menacing glares and a puffed-up chest. You react just as he does, a personified tension-diffuser as you shrink in on yourself and give steady, slow answers. She’s shouting, you’re mumbling. She’s advancing, you’re backing away. She’s grabbing your wrist, forcing you close to her, and you’re squeezing your eyes shut.

Billy’s stomach churns; he can’t watch this any longer.

He herds Max to the other side of the house, keeps her restrained with one hand and pries at her window with the other. It opens smooth and easy, no squeaking that would alert their parents to their escapade.

Once they’re both inside, she flips.

“You asshole,” She huffs, “You manhandled me! You really couldn’t just let me have one nice conversation with my friend? You had to yank me away like some psychopath?”

“She wasn’t going to come back,” Billy murmurs, a glint in his eyes urging her to lower her own voice, “And she didn’t fall down the stairs. Go to sleep, Max.”

He feels a pillow hit him in the back as he strides out of her room, and each step down the hallway towards his own feels like he’s numbing from the inside out. The role reversal of his own life had been so mind-shattering, watching a scene from his household happen in real time in front of him instead of a torturous memory in his nightmares.

By the time he reaches his room, his fingers are too numb to shut the door. He kicks it closed instead, staring out of the still-opened window to watch your own. The curtains are drawn again, shutting you off from the world.

He stands there staring for what feels like seconds, but is probably minutes with the way his brain is warping his thoughts. Abuse felt so lonely, it was a soundproof room with padded walls, but they stung like hot coals when his dad came stomping in to shove him up against them. His family, his safe space, his padded room, came with the irony of only existing alongside pain, fear, and anxiety. And knowing there was an identical room beside his for god knows how long, thick layers of insulation drowning out each of your cries and blocking out each other’s existence, makes him sick.

His eye stings with the residual image of your own, a feeling he knows all too well. His hand, on instinct, tingles with a cold sort of sensation, the same that he got from grabbing the ice-covered peas out of the freezer.

He’s off to the kitchen in a hurry, feet padding carefully across the floor so as not to alert anyone of his presence. The biggest challenge is opening the freezer door quietly, but he’s a pro at it by now. He takes the peas back to his room, but this time he doesn’t curl up in his bed with them pressed to his eye, he clutches them tightly and heads for the window.

Max’s flashlight is discarded on the sill, and he wraps it in his free fist. He clicks it on cautiously, testing the sound to see how it echoes in the empty space between your house and his. It’s not obnoxiously loud, hopefully no one can hear it.

He flashes it against your window, only for a second, then ducks beneath the sill. He waits, expecting an explosion of sound as your mother reaches out to grab him. But nothing happens, so he straightens up to his full height. The wind nips at his bare arms, goosebumps erupting over the skin not covered by his muscle tank. He waves the flashlight once more at your window, covering it with his thumb to flash it instead of clicking the button rapidly. 

He hears shuffling from inside, then silence. Then shuffling again, a little closer, and silence. Then more shuffling, and the routine continues until he hears your fingers scrape at the window pane.

You duck under the curtains this time, easier to slip back inside and shut the window instead of drawing the curtains, “Max, I can’t-”

Billy doesn’t know what to say when your eye catches him. He blinks, once, twice, three times, watching as your anxious eyes rove over him. Only then does he register the chill in his hand, the peas.

“Here,” He murmurs, voice soft and slightly raspy, as he holds the package out to you, “Ten minutes, then turn the package around, then ten more minutes. And if it’s still icy, do it over again.”

You take the peas because you have to, because he’s pressing the cold package into your hand. Your fingers wrap around it and you peer curiously at the image on the front, only glancing back up at him when he shifts in his stance, leaves crushed beneath his feet.

“The package rustles,” He warns you, “Be careful. Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t,” You finally murmur, breaking your stunned silence, “I- Uh, thank you. It’s.. Billy, right?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, nodding once. He’s half aware that his curls aren’t exactly perfect like they typically are, because nodding sends one of them tumbling into his eyesight over his forehead, “That’s me.”

“Y/N,” You mumble, and this time even Billy hears the heavy footfalls in your hallway. They set you on edge again, and he yanks his fingers back from the windowsill so that you can snap it shut, “I gotta go.”

“Bye,” He whispers, voice lost to the night as he stands outside your window. He ducks beneath the sill again, where your mom can’t see him if she decides to search the premises. He doesn’t hear anything from your room, though, and he takes it as a good sign when the footsteps retreat. Then he hears the soft crunch of the package of peas, muffled beneath what he assumes is your blanket as bed springs creak from within.

His eyes snap shut at the sound, envisioning you curled up beneath your comforter, hugging the bag of peas to your bruise. It’s a position that feels so natural to him he almost replicates it, back slumped against the siding of your house. The rustling stops; you got yourself settled.

Only then does he move, climbing back through his window and shutting it for the night. He can’t sleep, though, eyes drifting towards your window from his seat on his bed. He watches, he waits, he stares until his eyes sting, every second that passes a blessing for the lack of commotion it causes. When he does fall asleep it’s after the upstairs lights of your house have shut off, because only then is it over, only then is it safe. He sleeps in solidarity with you, knowing that the click of the lightswitch puts you at ease just like it does him; if there's someone else awake, it’s not safe to sleep. He’ll wake up tomorrow morning with a stiff neck from sleeping up against the wall, but his eyes will flutter open and the first thing he’ll see is your window, hopefully open to showcase peace inside.

Never in his life has he felt connected to someone his age. That’s what abuse does, that’s what Neil does. He isolates Billy, keeping him under his thumb so the boy can’t escape his clutches. But now there’s a glimmer of hope right next door. Hope, he supposes, isn’t the right word. A muddy black eye isn’t hopeful. It is, though, when it’s matching his own, when your scars and bruises line up with each other’s to map out constellations of torture. He wants to chart them, find out where the patterns are, spit out the stories behind them.

He’s spent enough time stargazing his own past, picking a new ball of fire each night to examine. To pick apart, to wish he’d have acted differently in, to regret. Now there’s a whole other sky mere feet away from him, and he yearns to chart it, to explore its patterns in the desperate hope of finding companionship. Oh, that cluster? A missed curfew. That bright one? Backtalk.

He’s always felt like a potential supernova. Like one day, all of the hurt, rage, and despair inside of him is going to burst forth in an explosion of color, blood and guts paired with anguish and heartache. 

And now, knowing there’s another ticking time bomb beside him, two panes of glass separating the two dying stars, he has hope. Maybe it’s morbid, to want to explode in tandem. To seek connection in even destruction. All Billy knows is that if he can’t get out, he’ll die.

He thinks about it for a moment; getting out. Shooting across the galaxy, hurtling over the inky black sky until the swirling black hole that is Neil Hargrove can’t suck him in anymore. Landing somewhere where he burns bright without the threat of explosion. 

And for the first time since that vision began, he sees two stars. One yours and one his, twin flames, both rocketing towards a safe corner of the universe, one where no one else can dim your glow. 

Billy knows right then and there, he has to get to know you. He’s never tried making real friends, never wants to get close enough to have to reveal that Daddy hits him and Mommy - New Mommy - doesn’t care. But you’re the same as him, a dimming star puttering along with the desperate hope of migrating instead of exploding. And if you can feed off of each other’s light, merge into one, he knows you’ll be strong enough to escape together, to go out without a bang.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

[eddiesbigolepp]

fresh ink

synopsis: eddie’s sweet little girlfriend wanted some ink to show off, good thing he knows a great tattoo artist.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

word count: 1325

warnings: 18+ swearing, slightly sexual, needles, slight nudity, eddie being a perv again

a/n: this is the same cheerleader!reader from my other fic

the tattoos that were spread over his skin made you smile. when he first gave you a tattoo tour, each piece made your eyes light up more than the last. you were in awe, they added just the right touch to his skin. the more time you spent with him, the more you caught yourself staring at them, usually the bats on his arm when you held hands. or zombie on his chest when you laid together. it was just so mesmerizing. you traced them daily, a habit that eddie had come to love.

recently, you had started thinking about what you would get tattooed on yourself. it wouldn’t be a zombie but it would be something cool, and something that meant a lot to you. maybe you’d get something for eddie. would that be too much? you two had been together for a while, but would he be creeped out?

“hey!” eddie says grabbing your attention, “you alright?” he questions as you blink up at him mindlessly.

“what? i’m okay,” you mumble looking over to the tv playing some slasher film. you didn’t even realize the movie was almost over until he took you out of your trance.

“no you’re not you’re staring at my arm like it’ll fall off if you look away,” he chuckles turning your face back to him. “what’s wrong sweetheart?” he asks again as you absentmindedly trace the bats on his arm.

“it’s nothin i told you,” you laugh back up at him.

“you’re lyinggg” he says dragging out the last syllable. “what is it, are you obsessed with my hands or something?” he teases, nudging you a little. when you don’t answer his eyes widen and he laughs a little more. “you are, aren’t you? is it the tattoos? they’re pretty sick huh?” he gloats, ego slightly boosted because of your staring.

“you wish, munson,” you reply, rolling your eyes and grabbing a pillow to whack him with.

“hey, hey!” he frowns, grabbing the pillow after it lands on his chest, “violence is not the answer babe.” he turns his body to face you better and he smiles sweetly, “really though, what is it?”

“i just want one..” you mumble, eyes flashing down to his arm again for less than a second before looking back up at him.

“wait what?”

“you heard me.”

“wait but i really didn’t you didn’t even use your cheerleader voice,” he jokes, “what’d you say, doll?”

“i… want one,” you say, a little louder than before.

“what? an arm?” he says grabbing your hands, “i think you’ve got two perfectly good ones right here, they’re probably stronger than mine!” he laughs referencing your insane tumbling ability.

“no stupid,” you laugh back, grabbing his right arm, “one of these..” you point at the bats on his arm.

“little miss head cheerleader wants a tattoo? what have i done to you?” he grins pulling you in for a quick kiss. “what makes you want a tattoo? tell me it’s because of me.” he smiles holding his hand to his heart all giddy.

“don’t get all cocky big boy,” you retort, raising your brows quickly, “i don’t know they’re cool, i don’t know where to get one or where to put it. my mother would kill me if she saw it.”

“wellllll..” he says in a sing-songy voice, “you could get one behind your ear,” he says bringing his hand up to small area behind the lobe. “or maybe hidden beneath the girls,” he says, dragging his pointer finger down your neck, all the way down to your tank and snapping the hem against your skin. “maybe even here,” he mumbles bringing his hands down to your exposed hip and rubbing circles into it. “i’d love it if it were right here too though..” he smirks, bringing his hand down to pinch your butt cheek.

“hey! watch your hands!” you answer, slapping his chest. he still leaves his hand there smirking harder than before. “i have no idea what even to get, also if my dad saw the charge on his card then he’d freak.” you groan, laying your head on his shoulder.

“wait right here,” he says quickly, standing up and letting you fall over to his spot on the couch.

“jeez a warning would’ve been nice,” you call out as he runs to his room quickly. you can hear him rummaging through his dresser and cursing when he banged his finger between two drawers.

“got it!” he shouts, walking back with a black case in hand and a smile plastered on his face. “who said you’d have to pay, i know the best tattoo artist in town!” he chuckles, sitting down in his same spot and opening up the case. there’s a bottle of ink, what looks to be cups for dolls, and a couple sterilized needles.

“what is that?” you ask and he laughs at you shaking his head.

“you cheerleaders, too pure for this world.” he jokes pulling out the packaged needle. “this is a needle, i dip it into the ink and i poke your skin. stick n poke, that’s what they call it. i could give you a small one since you want it so bad,” he chuckles looking down at you as you stare at the box he held in front of you in awe.

“would you really?”

“yeah sweetheart it’s not that hard, now what do you want?” he smiles, “you could get a cute little star or a flower, or maybe an e?” he offers only half kidding.

“i’ve got an idea i think,” you smile and walk back toward his room to find some paper. he closes the case and grabs a couple paper towels before following you back to the room.

he sees you already laying on the bed doodling something in his little notebook and he saunters over. “whatcha got there?” he asks, peering over your shoulder to see what you’ve drawn. his smile widens larger than ever and he rolls you over once you finish. “where do you want it sweetheart?”

“you choose, somewhere hidden though, only want you to see.” you say, beaming up at him. his eyes brighten up tenfold and he grins mischievously. “then let me get started,” he says pushing your tank up so only your boobs are half covered.

“this is gonna hurt a bit, so let me know when you need a break, doll face,” he says grabbing a half empty bottle of water to dip his paper towel into. he wipes the valley of skin between your breasts with the damp towel before wiping you dry.

he pulls the sketch out from the notebook and presses a kiss to your chest before he starts his work. he’s concentrated as he tries to make it perfect. and when a pinch is stronger than the others, you squeeze his shoulders and groan. if it weren’t for the situation right know he’d jump your bones but for now he’ll “go easy on you.”

once he wipes your skin for the last time and he smiles up at you wiggling his eyebrow. “i’m done?!” you question sitting up abruptly almost knocking his head.

“relax! it’s not going anywhere!” he says rolling over to let you stand. you practically run to the mirror to check out the tattoo he gave you.

“eddieeee!” you beam watching him walk up behind you. he hugs you from behind and presses a big kiss to you cheek “this looks so good, thank you babe.” you giggle as he turns you around to get a good look at it.

“tips are appreciated,” he says turning his cheek for a kiss in return.

“i think i can arrange something,” you reply turning his face back to you to kiss his lips.

“gonna buy you so many tiny tops just so i can see my handiwork.” he chuckles darkly lifting you up and bringing you to the bed.

a/n: the tattoo doodle in question

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Part two thoughts on an ani x bpd reader? Like, when things get that bad, does either of them wake the fuck up and realize things need to change? Remorse or guilt? The reader leaving? Ani leaving or falling into a self loathing hole, doing bad stuff again and again whether to himself or reader) and not taking care of himself?

It’s interesting to read some of your takes on BPD relationships, because I obviously have no idea what that’s like, but you do. You can make it seem very addicting, but also very terrifying and unhealthy, depending on which way the pendulum swings (I hope you take that as a compliment. Tone is hard through text. Lol. 😅).

I personally do not believe abuse is justified in any situation, whether you have a disorder or not. There’s lots of ways to deal with feelings without taking it out on someone else. On the other hand, I know some BPD’s have described feeling horrified with themselves after an episode like that, and so I’ve never really known just how much ‘control’ someone has in that moment. Either way, I still believe it’s the person’s responsibility to find a way to deal with it. Nobody deserves to be miserable around them just because they can’t handle something.

Anyway, I kind of went off on a rant. Apologies. Lol. My main request was for a part two of Ani x BPD reader! ❤️🫶✨

Not offended at all bby.

I think after I’m done with stalker!ani I’ll write a fic on this. Just cause so many people have asked about it.

100% BPD X BPD would be a terrible pairing. Coming from me as a bpd gal.

Now, personally, I’ve never physically abused anyone during an episode. But I HAVE done lots of property damage and I also broke my hand when I used a concrete wall as a punching bag. I split a wooden bat at the tip from whacking a fence once.

When it gets that bad, I don’t really remember what I said or did. I just feel really jittery, almost like an extreme caffeine high you know? (Imagine old cartoon character drinking coffee and their whole body vibrates, eyeballs and all)

But if it doesn’t get to that point, which it rarely does now that I’m medicated correctly and have a good support system, I IMMEDIATELY feel regret. Like horrible sorrow. Bpd means big feelings and when I feel regret, which isn’t often, it feels like I’m grieving a death that I’m to blame for.

For the smaller, more snappy or short outbursts:

My mouth works faster than the logical part of my brain that tells me not to say something mean.

Sometimes I catch myself in the middle of saying something awful and then I just have to finish it because the damage is done and I may as well spit it out. Then I’ll lock myself in the bathroom for an hour until I’ve hyped myself up enough to apologize, then I’ll go back to the bathroom until the big feelings from my apology die down. I’ll be quiet, basically selectively mute for the rest of the day and be super irritable.

It’s exhausting. But it’s even more exhausting to have to continually remind myself not to spew the first thing that pops into my head or not to chuck the bag of shredded cheese at the wall because I can’t get the ziploc to open.

It’s so stupid that something so small as getting my hairbrush stuck on a knot in my hair could set me off into a teeth gritting, foot stomp and shriek. Like wtf? That’s embarrassing. But it happens before I can even think about what I’m doing.

The best way I can describe it is: I’m a bratty toddler when it comes to emotional regulation.

But you’re so right tho, your illness doesn’t give you an excuse to be an ass. It just proves the person doesn’t want to put in the work to get better if they use it as a justifying reason.

BPD might cause my reactions, but I’m in charge of my actual actions. Sometimes it takes a long time for them to recognize that though. I’m an adult now, I’m medicated, I’ve spent my fair share of days in the loony bin. Looking back at my teenage self? It’s horrific and sad. For me and everyone around me back then.

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 3

Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader x Suguru Geto

warning: this is a dark yandere fic that will feature upsetting themes in the future and it is canon divergent

About:

You moved to Tokvo over the summer to take a teaching job. As you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

Chapter Summary:

You didn’t bring all that much with you, thinking you’d probably lay low for the summer. Your new friend wants to get you something though, it’s on the house he claims.

Previous Chapter

3. Worn Out

With the laundry finally done and dried enough to pack into a bag, you made a comment half joking about this being the second time you were doing laundry this week because you didn’t pack so much and then didn’t really think it through by the time you got here.

“Oh?” Shoko nodded along, idly watching you get dressed as she drank her second cup of coffee of the day in bed. She had an anatomy textbook opened up on the mattress that she was lazily reading. “Guess you didn’t wear so much in town, huh?”

“I guess not, no.” You added along, intending to wash her home clothes next at the accommodation before you gave them back to her. “There was the uniform, my inside clothes and then not much else. I didn’t really get out much as a teen.”

“That’s not so bad though, I think,” she considered it some more, setting the cup on her bedside table, “you had a reason for it, I mean. Guess you never developed your style then?”

“Not really, I guess, I liked some styles on blogs before as a teen but never dressed that way before,” you considered, you had a style you always liked but felt too exposed for it in the town, “I guess that must mean that you have, right?”

Just as she was about to say answer something in response to your question, Satoru stumbled from outside of the bedroom and through the door before smoothly recollecting himself, patting and brushing down his clothes as if nothing had ever happened.

“Oh, this is more boring than I imagined…” He said in a disappointed and resigned tone, taking a look around the room to see both you and Shoko just talking to each other casually. “You’re really both just doing nothing here? No comparing bras? No… what do girls do when they’re alone?”

Shoko rolled her eyes in response and threw a pillow at him as her eyes trained on the thick textbook next, ready to chase him out if she needed to.

“H-hey, I’ll knock it off, I swear-“ He replied, genuinely fearful of being whacked on the head with the book, “I came in here with good intentions-“

“—Spying on women isn’t a good reason” She said as she shut the book with her palm, getting a good grip on it.

“No, I’m serious, I was simply eavesdropping for good reasons,” he tried to backtrack, warily eyeing the book, “[name] doesn’t have enough to wear, right? Well, let’s just say I’m feeling generous and-“

“—It’s f-fine technically,” you stammered, suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of being shopped for, “the first paycheck is at the end of the month right? I’ll just get some basics when it’s cashed in.”

“It’s the first couple of days of summer vacation, newbie,” he replied as he pointed something out, “you’re gonna be doing laundry all week and washing your clothes into nothingness in this heat.”

“You could say yes and give him a chance to spend some money.” Shoko added to his offer, seemingly relaxing now that he was acting normal again.

“I could?” You nervously asked, seeming afraid of that implication. You didn’t really like the idea of people spending money on you. Did it mean you would have to owe him? Maybe you were being too quick to judge, though.

“He’s stingy when it comes to spending money on himself, but he acts like he’s made of money when it comes to spending it on others.” She explained.

“I am made of money.” He grinned.

“Just don’t let him take you into any stores with shady low lighting.” Suguru said from the hallway, apparently listening in.

“How lowly do you think of me? I’m not taking her to a lingerie shop.” Satoru replied, acting offended in an overly dramatic and facetious way.

You blushed a little at the prospect, feeling a little uncomfortable as such a thing was joked about so casually around you. You did your best to not make it show and you didn’t want for people to walk on eggshells for your sake just because you grew up more sheltered than they did.

“I suppose that it would be nice to have more to wear.” You nodded along, feeling encouraged.

“Then we’re going~!” Satoru beamed, seeming thrilled about the idea as he reached out to grab your arm.

“D-do you mean now?” You warily asked while staring towards the bathroom, thinking it would have been another day or at least when your clothes were dry. The concept of going outside currently seemed incredibly daunting.

“We can wait a little, but nobody should care that you’re wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants in the summer.” He said, thinking that’s what you were worried about.

“It’s not that, it’s uh, my scar it’s kind of…” You back-pedalled, hiding your arm a little more as the sleeve failed to cover it fully.

To all of their credit, it must have been visible at least somewhat before and they never said a thing. The sleeves to Shoko’s t-shirt were long but they cut at the elbow.

“It’s really not that bad.” Shoko assured you.

“Nobody cares so much out here.” Suguru added along to her words.

“You coming then or?” Satoru waved you forward.

You sighed, the hangover was a little better by now and didn’t feel so bad. You weren’t looking forward to being in a crowded area, but you also did want to get to know the group a little better so why not?

***

The bare minimum that he allowed you to do back in Shoko’s apartment was to brush your hair as well as borrow a pair of trainers because your sizes were similar and there was apparently no way that you were to be walking through the city in sandals.

Apparently that’s how you’d get blisters walking in the summer. Socks and breathable trainers were supposedly ideal. The more you know, you supposed.

The only thing that they were all right about was that nobody, not a single soul seemed to care that you had a scar.

“So, what’s your usual style?” Satoru asked you at some point as he led you through the city. By now it was the early evening and it was relatively crowded but the summer air wasn’t as thick anymore.

“I’m not sure, I guess I never really had a chance to explore it.” You admitted it. You liked fashion, but you never thought about it.

He paid close attention to you as you walked, keeping an eye on what seemed to catch your eye when you glanced at the windows of shops on your walk. Shoko and Suguru had both stayed behind otherwise, deciding to both watch a movie as you and Satoru went further off into the city.

“You technically won’t have to worry about what to wear when the classes begin,” he spoke up after a short while, swinging his arm around your shoulder in what you presumed was a platonic way—he did so with his friends, so it shouldn’t be so different here, “jujutsu teachers unlike regular school teachers have a uniform, but we can get you enough just to last through the summer.”

You nodded along, even if it was different when you were a student. Your teacher wore her own clothes to the school but it was relatively relaxed back home. You did like that idea though as it meant that you could focus on getting just the essentials instead.

You found that you liked his non-joking and considerate tone for a change. It left you wondering if he played up that side of him for certain people because it was something that was expected of him.

Shoko did mention that he didn’t get that much of a childhood either, so maybe he reserved his playful side for those who could handle it.

Your mind suddenly felt anxious; were you making him feel uncomfortable with the way that you were?

Just as you were overthinking though, he pulled you off to the side and yanked you into a store that had impossibly bright fluorescent lighting.

Maybe your headache wasn’t gone after all…

“Here we go,” he announced as he looked around, the clothes being similar to what caught your eye when you walked on the street, “try to choose something that you like, something that you can see yourself wearing often. It’s summer so it gets painfully hot if you live in the city but the nights can be quite cool, so you can get away with wearing something light with sleeves if you really want to.”

You nodded along, feeling a little comforted about wanting to hide your scar if you really had to go down that route. You didn’t want that one incident to define you though, so you were going to try to be different for a change.

“Gotcha.” You finally said as you stared at the large space in front of you. There were so many options in designs that you liked, but where would you even start?

You didn’t want to abuse his kindness too badly though, so you settled on seeking out the essentials instead. Just as you had planned to before.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready to check out.” Satoru said as he took out his phone, seeming not bothered at all about having to wait around.

You decided upon a few bottom staples like some trousers, shorts, a long flowy skirt and then a shorter skirt. For the top options you opted for options that were simpler, but they would work no matter how you would style them.

He paid for you, just as he promised when you bought your pile of clothes up to him, seeming a little embarrassed at just how much you managed to have gathered. He pretended not to notice your reaction when you saw the total price at the tills, but in reality he thought that your reaction was endearing because you would actually appreciate what he had gotten you.

On the way back to Shoko’s, he spoke to you a little more after a while of silence, saying that you’re stopping by a takeaway place to get some food, that it’s a tradition for someone to sponsor something greasy and heavy after a night of drinking out, so that’s something you’re both going to do to really become a part of the group.

He had you carry that bag of food as he carried everything else upon insisting, prompting you to bring in the food into the apartment as you quickly kicked off the shoes by the front door.

You settled the bag on the coffee table in his pointed direction as the other two suddenly perked up at the sight and at the smell alone.

Shoko reacted by calling you her saviour, knowing fully well that Satoru sponsored this part of the trip as well. Suguru leaned forward a little, grabbing something immediately.

Satoru finally set the bags of clothes down by the door before settling into the sofa, pulling you down along with him as you sat between him and Shoko on the crowded sofa, but nobody really seemed to care as their bodies adjusted in strange ways to make it all work.

A box of takeaway rice was promptly then shoved into your hands with breakaway chopsticks along with something else to go with it.

You sat and you ate your food along with the rest of them and couldn’t help but feel comfortable for once despite in a situation so loud and so cramped.

Were you finally part of something for once?

***

You were back at your accommodation on the campus the next day. Satoru and Suguru were also off to their own apartments as well, as you now understood that everyone lived separately.

Shoko’s place was the easiest to get to in between everyone else’s. She supposedly intentionally chose a place like that to be close to convenience shops because she wasn’t always up for cooking, her job being a tiring one—which put her close to the station.

Suguru lived closer to the busier parts of the city and kept relatively vague about his space when the conversation was ongoing, not giving you much room to figure him out.

Satoru lived in a place that was otherwise sponsored by his clan, choosing an area that was surprisingly quiet. Maybe even he needed a place that was peaceful to retreat to.

You on the other hand just had the campus accommodation, nothing too special just yet but you couldn’t complain too much as it was free.

You sighed as you collapsed back into the bed at your residence, staring at the ceiling as you did so. Things were quickly looking up for you now that you weren’t so isolated; you had a group of people to talk to, who even gave you their numbers to talk to or text and yet—it felt like something was off.

You couldn’t quite place your finger on it though, so you decided just for now to let it go.

This was fine.

You were fine.

(If only you knew just how wrong you were.)

***

Next chapter.

End note:

Scenes are finally set up, expect it to take a certain direction from chapter 4/the next chapter onwards.

[everythingne]

out of the woods - ls2 [2]

With a home race that couldn't go better, Dhanishka feels the confidence to let loose. But, Bahrain's post race celebration brings up some confusing feelings Dhanishka definitely won't handle the best. Charles plays the disappointed older brother role very well, Daniel is a bit of an enabler as is Lando, who also wins a bet with McLaren. Also, the FIA makes a weird call.

logan sargeant x ferrari!ex!oc

fc: iffat marash (and other pinterest girlies)

warnings/notes: mentions of past car accidents, drunkeness, a makeout scene, tbh if logan looked at me the way i describe here i would fold oops. conflicting feelings here for miss dubey

(part one) (part three)

Bahrain hasn't even started, my home race hasn't even started, and I already feel like I'm about to snap. I knew coming into this race there was a lot of pressure on me to do well, not to mention how basically everyone I knew and their fucking mother was here, but from Ferrari alone. This was the season they planned to solidify Charles and I next to Red Bull. They'd been secretive about their car, their plans, and whatever, just to hopefully psyche out the other teams.

Personally, I just wanted to win for myself, but thats a whole other story.

When I walk in the race, cameras are on me faster than I can say my name, thousands of eyes watching the only rookie this season as she makes her way into her paddock. Inside the paddock is no better, and the garage can't even be a safe haven as reporters walking the pit lane try to get video of me and Charles greeting eachother.

He's like a bright red beacon of safety admist the chaos of this morning. He hands me a coffee, says it's supposed to be some sort of weird chai thing. It tastes... like slightly more bitter and heavily espresso filled chai. But I drink it anyway because lord knows I need the energy.

"You look stressed, is it the race?" Charles asks after our debriefing, when I'm working on reaction times. I keep working at whacking the buttons, eyes trained on the center as I also work my periphery.

"I think so." I say, uninterested, and Charles purposefully messes up the game so I look at him with a loud exclamation. He grins, and I get now why Arthur had punched Charles in the arm as a greeting once. He looks like a cat that knows it's done something wrong, but smugly doesn't care. Like my aunt's big brown cat named Porsche.

They'd bought her a 'Porsche' for her birthday that year. Haha.

"What's it actually?" Charles asks when I catch my breath a little, taking a big gulp of water and then sipping on the coffee-chai-thing.

"I talked to Logan after we left the resturant and I can't stop thinking about it." I set down the cup and go to return to the game before Charles grabs my wrist and pulls me back.

"Do you wanna talk about it before the race? Maybe get it out of your system so it doesn't affect you while driving?"

"You're talking like you speak from experience."

"Maybe I do." He hums and I huff through my nose, before grabbing both of my drinks when he nods his head back to his drivers room. Probably the only place here we could get privacy. He pops me down on his couch and sits next to me, motioning for me to talk.

I stammer a bit before sighing, “Logan still thinks it’s my fault. He still thinks I had something to do with the accident. And I’m a fucking idiot because I still love him.”

Charles’ eyes widen as I lean forward and huff, rubbing my forehead as I keep talking, “I still love him after three years. And he doesn’t love me back and that hurts but I can’t do anything about it.”

"you still love him?" He asks and I nod, and then hitch forward with a sharp gasp. It's like saying the words out loud have thrown every possible emotion in my face. Anger at him for breaking up, regret for not chasing him, a deep sorrow for the things we'd lost. He had been my first love, something so innocent. I didn't know how I was supposed to live without him.

"I do," I whisper through the lump in my throat, "I love him, but I can't even look at him without feeling sick."

For once with all the issues I've come to tell Charles about, this is one that stumps him. But he wraps an arm around me, pulling him to his side as he rubs his hand along my back and I curl into his touch. I don't exactly cry, but I more so just hyperventilate.

And it takes maybe ten minutes for me to calm down fully and when I do, Charles squeezes my hands.

"No matter what happens, I've got you." He says softly, "just like at dinner, I've got you."

I nod and he hands me a tissue, I fix up my makeup and stand, letting him escort me back out to the garage so we can go get out fireproofs and race suits.

The sun is long set when we start the race, the warm up lap making my nerves spark as my fingers twitch on the steering wheel. I knew Bahrain's track like the backs of my hands, I knew exactly what to expect and what to do and where to go. Starting p8 wasn't terrible, I would've preferred to be higher but I'll take what I can get. In front of me is Yuki, Carlos, Daniel, Charles, Oscar, Lando, and Max. With Logan directly behind me and Alex behind him.

I'm not super worried about Alex, but Logan had a pretty similar driving style to me so I worry about him coming and overtaking me. I know I can overtake Yuki, Carlos, and Daniel if I give myself time and risk going wide when it comes to Carlos, but Lando, Oscar and Max will be my biggest competition. Though I'm not sure about Charles, I guess it depends on what we're told on the radio.

Within the first five laps, I've gotten past Yuki and Carlos, but Daniel's giving me a run for my money. Charles even tries helping, but it's no use, and I take my place behind Daniel for the foreseeable future. I don't mind it, holding P6 at the beginning isn't the worst scenario. I just have to wait until people starting going in for tire changes and such, hopefully I'll be able to use that to get around.

Eventually, Daniel understeers and it gives me a perfect opportunity to whip around him and I solidify myself in P5. Oscar's ahead of me, Lando ahead of him, Charles in P2 and then Max holds P1. Charles is fighting him for it and I'm impressed with how we're doing so far.

At some point Logan comes up behind me, I'm only alerted via the radio for half a second before I see him try and push me to the edge of the track. I speed up, purposefully oversteering the turn to knock him off my back.

By the end of the race, I find myself P3 by a goddamn thread. Lando having wing damage making it easier for me to snag around him in one of the last turns. Charles isn't far ahead of me, and Max holds his P1 usual. Lando's P4, Oscar P5, and Logan P6. Everyone else is pretty much scrambled, almost all the racers overtaking someone multiple times throughout the race.

I can't really feel anything under the thrum of my excitement, Charles coming up behind me and lifting me off the ground in celebration as Max laughs from a distance. We're making our way to the stage for the podium, helmets off and a hat secured over my head to block out the sun and my post-race helmet hair.

"Lets go! 'Ishka!" Charles jumps and I laugh, whacking him on the head as he hoists me in the air.

"Congrats, kid." Max grabs the brim of my hat and yanks it down, making me yelp in surprise as Charles sets me down. I fix the brim of my hat while Charles laughs, trying to help me yank down Max's hat too before I'm called to walk up on stage.

The roar of the audience is deafening, the announcement a warble as I take the trophy with a thank you and shook the hand of the woman who gave it to me. I lift it above my head, the noise only growing, and I can't help the satisfied shout that leaves my throat in celebration.

Dipping back into the paddock, I see Logan being ushered away from me by Alex. Even though the sight of him makes my throat close and stomach drop, I try to keep my head up. I try to not let it affect me, but I know it does.

I told Logan the truth. I let him him go because he wanted to go. Nothing Logan did now would change the way my heart ached for him. In F2 I learned quickly to shove my emotions down and never let them escape me, and when I wasn't in the safety of Charles' company, I felt like I had fallen back into that same routine again.

Cold, sharper than a tack, everything rolled right off. I bit my tongue when necessary, fought back only when provoked.

It was nothing like how I had been before Trident. That much was known. But I wasn't about to be used again. Never again.

A few hours later, we're at the hotel Charles is staying in, him laying face first on his bed while I fix up my makeup in a mirror for the upteenth time. Another night out is in order to celebrate the season kickoff, Max inviting Charles and I along with him, Daniel, and Carlos to some sort club I've been to a hundred times already.

Once I've used Charles' bathroom to change into my clothes for the night, I'm wrapping a large Ferrari jacket around myself to be a bit more 'presentable' until we get to the club. I lean into the mirror to check and secure all my jewlery before I make my way out of the bathroom.

Charles looks up from where he's sitting in one of the chairs in the hotel room, his eyes doing a quick once over before he grins and stands up. He's wearing some jeans and a loose black button-up, a gold necklace swinging before settling against his collarbones as he makes his way to my side.

"Revenge dress?" He muses to me with a smirk and I whack his arm with a loud laugh, shaking my head as I walk to grab my purse off the coffee table.

"It wasn't intended to be, but sure." I grin as I take a sip from my wine glass on the table, eyeing the now empty bottle we were using to loosely pregame the night, "Glad to see you've gotten a bit of fashion advice, the polo looks good. If Max is wearing anything Red Bull I'll choke him out."

"I'll help you." Charles laughed and hands me his wallet. I pop it in my purse without thinking, I know it's so I don't run off without him, and I pretend to be annoyed. But the action is sweet.

"We have a little private room with some of the other drivers," Charles grabs our phones off the charges and hands me mine as he pockets his, fixes his hair in some sort of habit, and then looks back to me as he grabs the handle of the door, "So, you can leave your stuff there until we leave."

"Sounds good to me." I follow him out the door, my heels clicking on the tile on the hallway as we move down to where the carpet starts. Charles turns back to me as he walks, watching me dig out my car keys. When I lift my eyes to meet him he scratches his jaw and then speaks.

"Logan's gonna be there. That's fine with you?" Charles asks. I had told him in the garage this morning about my argument with Logan. It had been eating at me, and Charles being ever the observant picked up on my shift in attitude before I did.

"I probably won't even see him, this club is always packed." I reason, even with the private room. I'd spend most of my time at the bar. If I was with my friends, also the dancefloor, but I had a suspicion I wouldn't be doing much dancing tonight.

"You sure?" Charles holds the elevator door open for me, letting me step in and press the button for the lobby. I nod, adjusting my outfit a little bit as I look over at him.

"It's fine, I'm over it." I shrug, looking at myself in the mirrored doors of the elevator and fixing up my hair loosely. I can feel the elevator slowly start to lower and I grin at myself.

Maybe it was the confidence from my win, but I looked good tonight.

"You cried over him this morning and now you're saying you're over it?" Charles hums, thinking back clearly to me frustrated for no reason this morning and his intervention with led to me half-hyperventilating into his chest.

"I got P3 in my first F1 race, Charles. No one can touch me. I'm hot, sexy, and breaking the Ferrari curse." I playfully do a little z-snap that has Charles chuckling as the doors open to the lobby and he brings me out to an awaiting car. This was something else I would never get used to, how we all just kinda casually had luxury vehicles. Now, my parents were well off, my father a CEO and my mother a tailor, and they had plenty of money to give to me and my sister if we needed it. But it hadn't always been that way. So the Ferrari just idling outside the hotel, clearly brought over by Ferrari for Charles and I to drive like once this whole weekend is a shock to me.

He lets me in the back, then gets in the passengers, instructing the driver on where to go while I lean back with a content sigh and watch the streetlights pass.

dhanishkadubey made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, charlesleclerc, and 254k others...

dhanishkadubey: kicking off the start of a wonderful szn. much love to the tifosi 🏎️ ❤️ (📷: @ charlesleclerc)

charlesleclerc: ❤️

danielricciardo: this bitch drinks fireball like water.

dhanishkadubey: ur rlly exposing me like this danny :(?

user1: congrats on p3!!!

oscarpiastri: go dhanishka go !!

user2: tensions rising in the loscar fandom tn

maxverstappen: great start to your rookie year, dhanishka :)

anyadubey: YAAA THATS MY SEXY SISTER!!!

user3: actually in love w her.

When we arrive at the club, the place is already going hard. Early 2000s music pulses from various speakers, the lights flashing to the beat of who I think is Britney Spears mixed with that one song from Saltburn. It's Daniel who greets us in the upstairs room, showing me where to leave my bag and jacket while Charles is escorted off to the side by Pierre and Max. I spot Esteban and Lance chatting idly with Magnussen and some other racers. It's odd combinations tonight, as the grouping strays from the normal clumps of friends, but it means I find myself engrossed in a conversation with Alex and George maybe thirty minutes after getting inside.

"I seriously thought you were gonna be much meaner!" George shouts over the pulsing music and I laugh as he hands me my drink from the bartender. I thank him softly and take a big sip, nodding at the sour taste im expecting from the cocktail.

Catching George's eye, I tease, "Do you want me to be?"

"God no," George waves a hand in my direction with a soft laugh, something playful and almost childlike gleaming in his eyes as he tilts his head, "Carmen's plenty mean to me."

"Oh stop!" Alex scoffs, whacking George's arm, "As if Carmen's little jabs equate to Lily's!"

"Didn't you literally call Lily the doll from Squid Game?" I ask, then pop my straw in my mouth and take a slow sip. Alex freezes as if he's been caught red handed, and George suppresses a giggle.

"Look..." Alex holds up a hand in defense but George and I are laughing too hard to really hear whatever excuse he uses to defend his actions.

"Okay, can I ask you a question, Dhanishka?" Alex asks after we've calmed down, leaning forward on the bar as I settle in my seat with George on my other side. I nod and he swallows and I can see him roll the question through his head. He takes a sip of his drink, swallows, and turns to ask, "If you wanna answer, what exactly happened with you and Logan? 'Cause he's been moping since you got announced to be racing with Ferrari and I might lose my mind if he doesn't knock it off."

"Oh god," I say into my midori sour, taking the bitter drink into my mouth and swallowing it and setting my hand over the cup. George leans over to look, head slightly tilted like a puppy as Alex quickly speaks up.

"If you don't wanna say anything, it's fine, but--"

"--No, no. It's fine Alex," I wave a hand, "uhm, Logan and I started dating when we were racing in Renault, but we'd been kinda... I guess flirty since the end of our formative years and into like secondary school. We were... I was fifteen, so he was seventeen or sixteen at the time? It was just like... puppy love, y'know? Pure and innocent, nothing too serious.

"And, we were both in love and it was nice. It really was nice. But, when that crash happened with Trident, I think something snapped in him. I... the breakup... it came from nowhere. I don't know if it was because he was mad, thinking I had something to do with it, or if he just... didn't know what to do and needed control after Trident took that P2 position from him? I don't know. We hadn't spoken since that day until last night."

"You talked to him last night?" Alex asks with slightly wide eyes and I nod, taking another sip of my drink.

"We argued about it last night while waiting to leave." I sigh, rolling my shoulders as I pop the straw between my lips and take a long slow sip, then speak, "He thought I had something to do with the crash, I told him I didn't, he asked me why I let him leave--which, Alex, feel free to tell him I think that's a dumb fucking question. I wasn't gonna force him to stay if he was unhappy, or if he didn't wanna date anymore. I'm not a monster."

"Wait, wait," George waves a hand to grab my attention and I turn to him with a soft hum, "So is he mad at you?"

"I don't know," I finish off my drink, noticing both George and Alex are not even halfway down their respective drinks, "I can't tell with him. I would completely understand if he was furious about everything, but none of it was my fault. I didn't even know Trident planned to crash into him!"

"I'm gonna try talking to him," Alex looks over at someone to the right of me and I don't have to look to know he means Logan's there. I nod, sip my drink, and excuse myself to go back to the room. George escorts me up there, to make sure I'm fine, and then leaves me to Daniel who grins.

"You've had something to drink, right?" He asks and I nod, but happily join him and Lando at the bar for shots of various alcohols. And I end up drinking a few glasses of soju back to back with Max at one point, introducing him and Checo to different flavors while Daniel laughs at Max's shock over how everything just tastes like a slightly sour juice. I'm finishing my fourth glass of soju when I start to feel woozy. Taking a water from the bartender, I count the drinks I've had in my head and roughly equate them to about a handle of alcohol.

Lando orders a final round of shots for us, Fireball burning down my throat.

"Danny!" I call to the Australian, who turns in a full circle before realizing wher eI am. He nods and steps closer so I don't have to shout.

"The bathrooms right there," I point to a hallway and Daniel nods, "Can you grab my stuff and I'll meet you guys by the door?"

"Yeah, just be quick! Text me if you need anything." He squeezes my wrist and I nod, slipping away and down the stairs that lead tot he dark bathrooms. Once I'm done, I step out into the hall looking down at my phone when I slip on water pooled by the door. Or what I hope is water.

A hand juts out, catching me by the waist and tugging me forward so I'm no longer falling backwards. The firm hand is familiar, and when I glance up to thank the man who caught me I make eye contact with Logan. I resist the urge to make some rude comment and thank him softly instead.

"Are you gonna tell everyone about us dating?" He asks instead and I scoff.

"Are you gonna start a fight every time I see you?" I rebuke, and then shrug, "Alex and George asked. And if I said no, they could just look it up. I didn't say any apecifics, just the bulk."

Logan looks a little relieved at that, almost like he was nervous about their reactions if they knew every little thing that we'd done. Truth be told, puppy love was the best way to describe us back then. Stolen chaste kisses, giddy smiles when holding hands, little meaningful gifts, late night texts that led to sleepy smiles the next day. I was sure he'd had something more... mature after he'd broken it off. I had rationalized in my head that was why he broke it off. I'd never know the real reason, I wasn't going to ask.

"You..." Logan finally lets go of my waist, and in the low light I see his eyes sweep over me with a look I want to decipher. I've lost the key to his brain, and I know I won't be finding it any time soon.

"You look as beautiful as the day I left you, more so now... but," He laughs, shaking his head, "Sorry, I had too much to drink. I shouldn't."

"You shouldn't." I agree, but a tiny smile curls at my lips, "But thank you."

Logan looks at me for a long moment and I return the gaze, our eyes spelling out stories of his hands carding through my hair, laying on a blanket on the roof of his London apartment and listening to music in shared earbuds, us cheering on Oscar when he'd asked Lily out and celebrating with him after.

He was so much of my past, and somehow I found that I wished he could fit into my future.

"Can I ask one thing?" Logan says, the music pulsing above us louder now, making his voice get swallowed by the music. I step closer to hear him as I nod, throat dry as trepidation rolls across my skin, his lips part, and it takes a second for him to ask, "Can we not fight? I don't think I can ever see you look angry at me again, I've been replaying our argument outside the restaurant for days now.

"I don't wanna leave our past behind us and move on," He continues when I gape at him, "I loved you back then, maybe I still do now or maybe its the fact I'm so drunk the world is spinning, but you were such a big piece of my life. I've known you since we were kids, Dhanishka I can't let go of you now that I've got you back."

His heart is being held out for me, hands shaking as he stares at me, and I just stare back. Just friends, I tell myself. That's all we'll be.

"You know," I start, and I can feel its my heart and blood alcohol content leading the conversation and not my brain, "I do think I still love you--or maybe its the fact I'm just as drunk as you are, if not worse. You made my life, you made me who I am, from the stupid jokes to the little kisses behind our garages, or sneaking into eachother drivers rooms to nap..."

I swallow my pride, "I won't let go of you this time."

He grins and on wobbly legs he takes me into a hug, I let his arms wrap around my waist, hands warm against my skin as I throw my arms around his neck. The stairs squeak behind us, and we step back, but I don't see anyone come down. When I turn back to him, I find he's still looking, and as the music shakes the walls and rolls into my skin, I find one of my hands cupping his jaw. His breath cuts short, lips parting as his tongue darts out.

It's so dumb how easily I fall back in love with Logan Sargeant.

He dips down before I can think to pull back, slotting his lips against mine, and I welcome it. His grip on me tightens as he tugs me back in, bunching fabric under his fingernails as he gasps when I nip his lip.

"We shouldn't do this." He gasps between a kiss he drives, only to be cut off by me stepping closer to keep our lips dancing. He turns us, pressing my shoulders to a wall, cornering me underneath him, and I bite back a whine in the back of my throat.

"We shouldn't," I agree, and gasp when he moves closer, his hands sliding down to guide my hips towards him as his knee knocks mine apart. He steps one foot between mine, leaning into me, and I can't help the whine he forces out of my lips this time. And when I see his satisfied grin, I can't help the tiny bashful smile that pokes at my own lips.

"You're an asshole." I breathe against his lips, the club pulses above us, footsteps creaking on the stairs, but in that moment we dont feel the pull of the crowd singing and dancing. His hands grip my waist through the thin fabric of my black dress, pulling me in, and I feel everything. His chest hits mine with his sharp breath in, our eyes finding each other and holding a gaze I feel as bitter as the tequila in my stomach.

"I know," He pulls me in by wrapping his arm around my waist, hand finding my jaw and tugging me impossibly closer. Our lips meet again, all heat and fervor and my hands find the back of his head, knocking our teeth when I tug him in after he breaks the kiss.

22R stains his lips and I see it on his teeth when he grins, memories flicker through my eyes. He tastes like expensive whiskey and rum, a hint of shitty bottled beer taps my tonsils when I swallow. He tastes like everything I should run from and yet, I crave more.

"Dhanishka!" Charles calls for me somewhere in the club, voice loud against the music, and I step back. Reaching out to grab my wrist, Logan pulls me in once more, his thumb runs along my lower lip, fixing the smudged lipstick in the dark, dingy bathroom hall. I don't know what to say, I don't know if this is a moment where I'm even supposed to say anything.

"Danny!" Daniel shouts, coming to the hall of the bathroom and I push Logan back into the men's room and slam the door shut before he can say anything.

"There you are!" Charles calls and I wave, turning to them.

"Sorry," I giggle, the warmth of the kiss on my face as I feel the ghosts of Logan's hands on my skin, "I think I had a little too much."

"So did Max," Daniel snorts, flicking on his phone flashlight so I can properly see the stairs as I make my way over to where they stand halfway down them. I hear the men's room door creak and turn back to catch Logan's eye as Charles grabs my wrist and carts me upstairs.

We share a tiny grin between us, charged by drunken decisions, it's our moment. No one else sees. Or if they do, they don't say a word But Charles' grip on my wrist tightens, and I have an odd feeling we might not have been as alone as we thought we were in that hallway.

taglist (thank you!)

@chasing-liberosis @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

[berryhobii]

Down Bad(pjm x reader)

Pairing: fuckboy!Park Jimin x fuckgirl!black!female!reader

Word Count: 8.6K+

Warnings: Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), drinking, assault(throwing things at someone), mentions of objectifying women, mentions of STD tests(everyone’s clean), drinking alcohol(nothing explicit), kind of homie hopping but not really, mentions of previous partners, mentions of dom/sub relationships, reader’s low key a dom🫣, reader’s also bisexual😝, reader’s got that WAP and NyQuil 😺, talks of safe words(comfort and consent are sexy!), oral(m and f receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex(wrap it please), multiple orgasms(m receiving, mentions of f receiving), reverse cowgirl

A/N: Hi babies! I’m back! I recently started a new job so I’ve been kind of focused on that but I’m pretty much finished with a lot of my works. All I have to do his proofread some things and I’ll upload a few things at once. In this work, I described reader as dark skinned. Reader also has a 36 inch buss down middle part😝😝i always see so many stories of the men being hit ‘em and quit them types so I thought it’d be refreshing to make the reader like that instead. This is my first time writing a character like this so I hope you enjoy. Please tell me what you think. This will have a Part 2 as well! I hope you like this. Criticism is greatly appreciated! Stay safe🩵🩵🩵

~

Yawns and whines sounded from his bed, the body that’s been warming it for the past few hours finally rising from the post coital sleep caused by multiple rounds of intense and rough sex.

The sun wasn’t even up yet, the moon still shining overhead.

“Oh you’re awake?” A voice asked.

The woman’s sleep fuzzed eyes blinked a few times to clear her blurry vision, sights settling on the lean back of the man who just rocked her world hours before.

She sleepily smiled, lifting her tired body from the mattress. The blankets fell, revealing her naked body which had been littered with marks and bruises from his mouth and hands.

Draping her arms over his shoulders, she pressed a few kisses to his shoulder. “It’s still dark out. Why are you awake?”

His head turned slightly to look at her. She was pretty, not really his type but easy on the eyes. Now with messy hair and her makeup smudged, he was starting to think she was only really pretty when done up.

“I never went to sleep.”

Her warm cheek rubbed against his skin before she lulled in low and suggestive tone, “Ready for another round?”

He scoffed a laugh, shaking himself from her hold and standing to his feet. “Nah but your Uber is less than 5 minutes away. You better get dressed.”

Her mouth dropped in shock, sputtering out a, “w-what? What are you talking about?”

He picked her dress and underwear up off the ground before tossing them on the bed.

“I meant what I said. Beat it. I have to go to sleep before work later.” He quipped dismissively with a yawn.

Her hands gathered up the blankets, holding them to her chest, hot shame and embarrassment burning at her cheeks. Whereas his gaze initially made her feel sexy and wanted, now his sharp eyes just made her feel dirty and used. Like some $2 whore.

“But….”

He rolled his eyes, already growing irritated. His phone chimed and he held it up, seeing the Uber was just a minute away.

“Come on. Your Uber is about to pull up. I didn’t know where your house was so I just put in the bar where we met. Is that cool?”

Suddenly, a pillow whacked him in the face with enough force that it actually made him stumble back. Wait a second……what did she say her dad did? Huh, he could barely remember her name, much less what she was talking about in the bar. Truthfully, he didn’t talk her up much before getting her to come home with him. She was easier than most.

He didn’t have too much time to dwell on it before multiple projectiles were firing at him.

“Hey! Hey! Stop!”

He held up his arms to protect his head, sucking and dodging all of the things she flung at him. It didn’t do much, however, since almost every item was hitting him. Damn she had good aim.

“You asshole! You fuck me and then put me out?! Did your mother not teach you any fucking manners?!” Gratefully, she ran out of things to throw.

He huffed, rubbing his side where his fake potted plant had hit him. “You’re insane. Look at how you trashed my room.”

She growled as she pulled her clothes on, grabbing her phone and purse before stomping out in a huff.

“Screw you, Park Jimin! I hope your dick falls off!” She spat in disgust, slamming his door hard enough to shake the walls.

Pfft, whatever.

Park Jimin was a certified womanizer and connoisseur of the primal pleasures. His body count was probably higher than college kids on 4/20. To some, that might seem gross and irresponsible. Who can have that much sex with that many people? And to that, Jimin said ‘be jealous’. Jimin prided himself on safe and consensual sex at all times. Well, there were a few women who he’s braved unprotected for but he always made sure they were clean and got them Plan B’s afterwards!

To ensure no strings attached sex, Jimin had 3 main rules he followed.

1. Never go over the woman’s house.

2. Never sleep over

3. Never sleep with someone twice

These 3 rules are what kept Jimin a well oiled machine. It’s also what kept girls for getting too attached and sending mixed messages. He wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship or anything long term; just sex and that’s it.

And he planned on keeping it that way.

~

Jimin flopped down on his friend’s couch, groaning from his still aching side. A light bruise had already purpled there but thankfully nothing was broken.

He sluggishly pushed himself through work, those pain patches doing nothing to alleviate his pain.

“Fuck, my side is killing me.”

“I will never understand why you treat women like that. Didn’t another girl post your STD results on Instagram a few years ago?” His best friend since childhood, Taehyung remembered.

Ah yes, that incident.

To sum it up, a girl he slept with some years back had requested his STD results. Normal enough, right? Safety first and whatnot. After hitting it and quitting it, he thought he’d never see the girl again. Everything was quiet until he was tagged in a post showing his results along with a lengthy caption calling him a pig and multiple variations of the word ‘slut’ that he’s never even heard of.

And if that wasn’t bad, almost every woman he’s slept with spawned under that post like white girls to pumpkin spice. Fortunately, it didn’t go viral(673 comments doesn’t count, right?) and Jimin sort of forgot about it.

From that moment on, he never gave out any of his contact information and he kept his STD results in his wallet. So far, everything’s been going well.

Well, until last night.

“It’s fine. She got in the Uber and hopefully she got home okay.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in shock. “You didn’t get her an Uber home? At 3AM? Do you know how dangerous that is?” He gasped, following in the woman’s footsteps and throwing a pillow at Jimin but with not nearly as much force.

Jimin blocked the pillow before continuing, “I’d rather not know where she stays so I can avoid ever walking by. She had the arm of a baseball player.” Suddenly it clicked! Jimin snapped his fingers in jubilation, memory coming back. “That’s it! Her father’s a baseball player. That’s what she said.”

Taehyung slapped his forehead dramatically. “You’re ridiculous. You know, one day you’re gonna meet someone who will give you your just desserts.”

The middle finger was thrown up in Taehyung’s direction.

As if that would ever happen.

~

Jimin’s pain had faded by the weekend which meant it was time to party!

If only he had a party to attend. He was avoiding his favorite bar—not out of fear of seeing that strong armed girl again! Of course not!

So he decided to tag along with Jungkook and Jungkook’s college friends to another bar. He also convinced Taehyung to take a break from being a moody misunderstood artist.

Drinks were flowing and the sweet tail in this bar was catching Jimin’s eye. He could already spot at least 4 women that fit his standards. If everything went well, he’d be out of the bar and on his way home with someone on his arm within an hour.

“Let’s get some shots.” Jungkook offered to which the others nodded in agreement. While he turned to do that, Jimin started surveying the bar again. Taehyung must have noticed because he nudged him.

“You’re not thinking of which girl to take home, are you? Did you not learn from that baseball player’s daughter?” Taehyung sighed exasperated. He loved Jimin but goodness he could be an idiot. The shots arrived at that time and Jimin downed his. He didn’t really need liquid courage to loosen him up but it still helped.

Jimin shrugged his shoulder. “Stop worrying so much. Bathroom quickies are my specialty.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, muttering, “but somehow learning from your mistakes isn’t.”

Ignoring the jab, Jimin resumed his scan of the bar, making eye contact with a pretty girl across the way. Her eyes widened at being caught, quickly averting her gaze and looking at her drink as if it was the most interesting thing ever.

He smirked. Perfect. Shy ones are always the best.

Just as he was about to move to approach her, she was tapped on the shoulder by another girl by her side. They moved away from their spot on the bar and Jimin was met with a sight so mouth watering that he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

A woman was leaned over the bar counter, thick glossed lips sucking at a straw in a fruity colored drink. His eyes followed the curve of your back, over the swell of your ass in that dress—thick luscious legs that looked miles long in your strappy platforms and white toenail polish! Your hair was long and dark, falling over your back like an onyx curtain.

Damn. You were sexy as hell.

“Hey look, it’s Yoongi hyung.” Jungkook noticed, pointing in the direction of their friend.

Jimin and the others watched as Yoongi crossed the bar……straight to you.

Yoongi leaned against the bar next to you, your eyes sparkling at the sight of a familiar face.

It’s moments like these Jimin wishes he could read lips. What were you two talking about? Did Yoongi know you personally or was this your first time meeting him? If Yoongi did know you, were you two just friends or currently on the pathway to dating? Contrary to his demeanor and face, Yoongi was actually very social and made friends easily. He was also just as smooth as Jimin when it came to bringing people home. Would Yoongi get you first?

After stalking watching them for a while longer, you two seemed to bid each other farewell before Yoongi walked away.

Jungkook held up his hand to catch his attention. “Yoongi hyung! Over here!”

The cat like man’s gaze flickered over to the small group, a little smile on his face as he approached.

Once he got close enough, he greeted everyone with waves and bro hugs. “What’s up? I didn’t know you guys would be here tonight.”

Jungkook nodded. “There’s a deal on Long Islands. What are you doing here? Normally college kids come to this bar.”

Yoongi’s eyes scanned the crowd. “I’m Hoseok and Seokjin’s designated driver. Some girl Hoseok’s dating goes here.” He informed with a shrug.

Ah. That made sense. Hoseok was kind of a stuck drunk and while Seokjin was a good drinker, he still didn’t like driving under the influence. And Uber’s were off the table as well.

“Me? Get in a stranger’s car? Preposterous.”

So that left Yoongi as designated driver.

But enough about their wacky friends. Jimin had bigger things to worry about, like your ass.

“Hyung, who is that girl you were just talking to?”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, turning for a moment to look at you before facing Jimin again.

“Oh, y/n? She’s a student here. She’s getting her Master’s.” Yoongi answered.

Jimin hummed. “And are you two…..?” He trailed off, gesticulating his hands in a weird way.

Yoongi frowned. “Are we what?”

“He wants to know if you two are together before he goes and tries to fuck her.” Taehyung finished for them since he couldn’t bear this dumb game. “Please tell me she does professional kickboxing.”

Jimin pushed his catty friend. “Stop it.”

Yoongi’s mouth opened in a little ‘ah’. “No, nothing like that. y/n doesn’t date. Trust me, I tried.” He sighed, a little dreamily and defeated.

That was interesting. Not really that you rejected Yoongi but the fact that you didn’t date. It honestly shocked Jimin a little. You were smoking hot. How could someone like you not have a partner? Did you have a bad personality? Were you clingy? Were you just hot but also dumb? Hmm.

Eh. He didn’t care too much about that. You were single and attractive. That was good enough for him.

Fixing his hair and straightening his leather jacket, he was about to take a step but Yoongi’s hand on his chest stopped him.

“Hold up, man. I wouldn’t go after her.”

Jimin scoffed. “And why not? Just because you can’t get her doesn’t mean I can’t.”

The incredibly petty part of Yoongi wanted to just let Jimin go but he couldn’t, in good conscience, just let Jimin approach you unprepared.

“That’s not what I meant. I’ve never dated y/n but I have slept with her before.”

Wow, that was information he wasn’t ready for. Even Taehyung and Jungkook made noises of surprise.

“And what? Is she not good? Does she smell?” Jimin questioned, concern actually starting to eat at his tummy. Call him shallow and uneducated but Jimin didn’t venture near any pussy that didn’t appeal to his sensitive nose and delicate pallet. Perhaps you were just eye candy. Well, a blowjob would still count as a successful endeavor.

Yoongi shook his head. “No, of course not. The thing is, she’s the best I’ve ever had and I’m not joking. Like she’s so good that I still think about it and it happened over a year ago.”

“Pfft. That’s it? Whatever, hyung.” Jimin shook Yoongi’s hand off before strutting his way over to you.

Yoongi sighed dejectedly. “He has no idea what he’s walking into.”

You were about ready to wrap up your night. You really just came out for a drink and to spend time with your friends but they had left a little while ago to definitely have a foursome with these 2 guys. They asked if you wanted to join but you didn’t think you were that comfortable seeing your best friend’s vaginas. Well, willingly. You were a girl’s girl through and through but not like that.

Just as you sucked down the last of your drink, a presence settled on your side. At first you thought it was just another patron trying to get a drink but then a sugar sweet voice floated over into your ears.

“Can I buy you another drink?”

You looked to your right, finding a very handsome man leaning against the counter. He was very handsome but also pretty in a kind of graceful way. He wasn’t the type you often went after but you didn’t discriminate.

You leaned your cheek against the back of your hand. “I don’t accept drinks from strangers.” You disclosed.

Jimin felt his eyebrow twitch slightly but he couldn’t deny the slight rush your nonchalant tone gave him. You wouldn’t be easy and he liked it.

He sniffed. “You accepted one from the bartender. He’s a stranger.” He fired back matter of factly.

Ah, you could see now. He wasn’t the type to back down. Interesting. Maybe you would play along.

Your smirk sent a shiver down his spine. “He’s not a stranger. I know him inside and out.”

At that moment, the bartender came over to retrieve your empty glass. When you met his eyes, a red blush painted his skin from his cheeks to his neck.

Reaching into your purse, you pulled out a bill to tip him. “Thanks, baby. It was delicious.” You complimented, a sultry tone in your voice that spread that blush even further.

He shyly smiled, eyes flickering around. “Y-you’re welcome….” He grabbed your glass and you took the opportunity to run the tips of your stiletto nails up the back of his hand. He shivered at the touch, almost dropping the glass but managing to keep it from falling. He bowed at you, thanking you for the tip before scurrying over to the other side of the bar to tend to other customers.

Jimin’s jaw had yet to return to its original state. There was no way he just witnessed that. It’s obvious that you and that bartender had something going on; something crazy judging by how almost submissive the man acted just by being in your presence.

Was Yoongi right about you?

You flickered your eyes over to the new stranger, reaching out to tap at his chin.

“Your jaw will ache if you do that. Or do you like that sort of thing?”

Jimin snapped his mouth shut, your chuckle bringing heat to the tips of his ears but he forced it down.

“Oh so is the bartender your boyfriend or something?” He tried to passively ask but you could see right through him.

“Nope. I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. I used to though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You used to have a boyfriend?”

You shook your head. “Nope, a girlfriend but we had to go our separate ways. She had a great rack too.” You reminisced with a sigh.

Were you fucking for real? Jimin didn’t give a damn about your ex girlfriend but he’d be lying if he said you hinting at being bisexual wasn’t sexy as hell.

He cleared his throat. “Well uh, I’m Jimin.”

You hummed but didn’t make a move to introduce yourself and that kind of pissed him off.

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”

You swept your hair over your back, the scent of your perfume and whatever else you used in your hair invading his senses.

“Do I need to?” You drawled sassily.

He swallowed. Fuck you were pissing him off.

Luckily for him, Yoongi already told him your name so ha!

“I guess not, y/n.” He smirked.

You tilted your head. Ha! Gotcha! You weren’t so clever!

Then you smiled and it sent Jimin’s stomach in a whirl.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief. Jimin was very amusing to you. You couldn’t wait to break him.

You leaned closer to him, so close that your lips were almost touching. His breath got caught in his throat, eyes flickering back and forth between your irises.

What was this feeling? Jimin hasn’t felt like this sense his last big audition. His stomach was turning, nausea bringing that last drink he had right to the base of his throat, and his palms felt like all the water in his body had populated to his hands.

“That was cute.” Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips. “But it doesn’t matter if you know my name or not….”

Don’t ask why. Don’t ask why.

“Why?”

You smirked, hand lifting to ghost over the side of his throat, your nails scratched lightly over his pulse point. He thickly swallowed, throat feeling tight and dry all of a sudden.

“Because your mouth will be too preoccupied.”

Damn. You were good. Too good.

While he was mimicking a fish out of water, you dug around your purse for your keys before saying, “let’s get out of here. Do you need to tell your friends where you’re going?”

It took him a second to process what you had said but when he did, he shook his head.

“No. Why would I need to tell them?”

You shrugged. “Just to be safe. If something happens or they need you, they should know.”

He raised an eyebrow in a suspicious look. “Are you gonna rob me or something?”

You chuckled but he didn’t find anything amusing. “Of course not. Let’s just go then.”

~

Rule Number 1 was broken the moment he step foot in your apartment.

Similar to your outward appearance, your apartment was very cool and modern; cool tones of gray and blues complimented one another across all of your furniture and decorations.

You noticed how he was looking around at everything. “Did you want a tour?”

He flinched a little at you speaking. “No. We can just go to the bedroom.”

You eyed him for a brief moment but shrugged your shoulder and led him down the hall to your bedroom.

You didn’t turn on the lights when you entered your bedroom, instead traversing through the dark to find the remote to your LED lights. The room lit up in a bright purple, enough so that he could see clearly but it wasn’t overwhelming to ruin the mood.

He didn’t take time to look around this time, moving to remove his jacket and lay it across your vanity stool. You had taken a seat on the bed, hands working to untie the strings of your platforms.

“So, should we talk about boundaries and safe words?”

You were really making his brain buffer, like bad wifi connection.

“Safe words? Isn’t that only for like extreme stuff? Like BDSM?”

You were also constantly pissing him off with those little mocking chuckles.

“Normally yes but safe words are really just to gauge comfort and discomfort so if either of us don’t like something, we can have an easy way of communicating.” You explained simply, tossing your shoes to the side and working on the strings that held your dress together on either side.

The way you spoke so simply and confidently caused yet another weird feeling to flutter in Jimin’s chest. That was happening often with you.

“Uh….I don’t think that’s necessary.”

You paused in your disrobing(damn it) to look up at him. “Are you sure? The color system is pretty simple. This is our first sleeping together so we should both be comfortable.”

He’s never had to think about stuff like that before. This was just a one night stand. Why were you so worried about comfort and safe words? He just wanted to get his nut and go.

Holding in an aggravated sigh, he nodded. “Sure. Color system. Red, yellow, green. Perfect.”

If you noticed his tone, you didn’t say anything. Instead finally finally removing your dress and Jimin got to witness the glory that was your body and hot damn.

From your mocha dusted nipples to the intricate tattoo that rested just between your breasts, all the way down your meaty thighs and your clothed pussy that was barely covered by the thong you wore.

“Come here.” You beckoned with a finger. “Lie down.”

Your voice seemed to control his body, his feet moving forward to sit on the bed next to you. Immediately, you were in his space, climbing on top of him to push him down on the mattress.

Your hair fell forward over your shoulder, falling into his face, tickling his nose and getting in his mouth.

You giggled at his sputtering. “Sorry. Hold on.” You reached over to your nightstand to grab a large claw clip to get your hair out of your face.

With that done, you leaned down to capture his pillowy lips in a kiss. Honestly, you’ve been waiting to kiss him since he approached you at the bar. Something about those Bratz doll lips were so appetizing.

And they didn’t disappoint.

Jimin’s hands gravitated to your ass, gripping two handfuls and god bless, it was just as amazing as he imagined.

Your lips worked in tandem against one another. Jimin was caught up in the wonderful globes of fat blessing his palms, hands pushing you to start humping against his straining erection. You sighed as your clit bumped against the zipper cover of his jeans.

You tilted your head more to deepen the kiss, his mouth opening to let your tongues meet. He hummed at the taste of the fruity alcohol and the minty gum you chewed in the car.

Licking at his tongue, you sucked it between your lips, surprisingly pulling a moan from Jimin. Noted.

It honestly shocked him as well. He’s never felt this turned on just from a little kissing and dry humping. Hell, he hardly kissed any of his sexual partners. Maybe a little here and there but never full on making out like he was doing now.

And he hated to say it but he wanted more.

You must have noticed how he relaxed into the kiss because you pulled away to get a good look at his face—ears tipped red and puffs of breath coming from his plump lips that were shiny with your gloss.

“Do you want to tell me a color?”

Ah that. He almost forgot but he guessed he’d entertain it. “Green I guess.”

You hummed a “good”, pecking his lips once more before moving to his throat. Your hands went to start on the buttons of his shirt as you nipped and sucked at his pulse point. He stifled another moan when you bit the skin at his collarbone, trailing down to kiss over his chest.

He thought you were about to go straight for his cock, only to be shocked when he felt your tongue run over his nipple.

He jumped at the sensation, head craning to look down at you. “W-what are you doing?”

Your eyes glanced up at him. “Oh sorry. Do you not like your nipples touched?” You sounded honestly apologetic.

He felt weird. That felt weird but not necessarily bad. Fuck, what was happening to him?

“It’s just weird.” He simply said.

“Okay. I won’t do it again. Thanks for being honest.” There’s that feeling again.

Moving past his chest, you worked on his belt and the button of his jeans. He helped you get them down his legs, also removing his shirt in the process.

Once he was lying back down, you got comfortable between his legs. You kissed around his belly button, his abs contracting from the ticklish feeling. Gripping the band of his briefs, you pulled them down and off his legs, his cock jumping out and slapping against his tummy.

He sighed when your warm palm encased his throbbing erection, shivering as your breath puffed over his slick cockhead.

“Ready?” You asked.

He scoffed. Why did you ask him like that? Like a warning almost.

There was that smirk again. You were gonna enjoy this.

Kissing his tip, you licked a wide stripes up his shaft, going all around the circumference of his cock with your sinful tongue. His leg twitched a little at your calculated ministrations, suddenly feeling hot all over despite you just starting.

Once you deemed him licked enough, you took his tip into your mouth, gathering saliva in your mouth to drip down his cock. With that extra lubrication, you began pumping his shaft, tandem sucking at his tip. His hips buck up involuntarily, wanting to feel more of your warm mouth around him.

Your eyes were focused on his face, always watching to make sure he was comfortable but also, you loved seeing his reaction. His own eyes were squeezed shut, hands balled up at his side and lip pulled between his teeth hard enough to bleed.

Mmm. Easy work. Time to up the ante.

Jimin felt your mouth come off of him, the cold air brushing over his spit slicked cock. He let out a breath but that was short lived because all of a sudden, both of your hands were gripping his cock.

He barely had time to lift his head before it was crashing back against your pillows because you started going absolutely ballistic.

Both hands began twisting and squeezing at his shaft, your mouth back on his tip creating an air tight vacuum seal. As your hands moved, your head bobbed up and down on what your hands couldn’t reach.

Jimin’s back arched hard enough to hurt, mouth dropping open in a silent scream. You were like a woman possessed, not even the Warren’s would be able to cleanse you. Loud slurping and sucking noises bounced off the walls, filling his ears and spurring him towards an orgasm faster than it takes Azaelia Banks to embarrass herself.

If your mouth wasn’t full of cock, you would have smirked from his reaction. He couldn’t stop moving, knees lifting and falling back against the bed and bumping into you a few times, head restlessly tossing side to side against the pillows. His face and chest were flushed red, chest rising and falling as he struggled to breathe.

“Oh my god….” He breathed out, feeling closer to orgasm than ever.

Your hands moved from around his shaft and suddenly, you were taking him all the way down your throat, deep throating him like a god damn python. His hips bucked up again but your wet hands rested on either side of his pelvis to hold him down. You bobbed your head faster, sucking on every upstroke and laving your tongue against the vein that pulsed on the underside of his cock.

Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever felt so good in his life, especially not off head alone. It was like every nerve ending in his body was focused in his cock, your hot mouth pulling noises from him that he didn’t even know he could make.

Who the fuck were you? Who was he?

He was about to cum. He could feel it stirring and building in his lower belly, hotter than fire and ready to burst like a volcano.

Then you gripped his balls in one of your hands and gave them a light squeeze and the pearly gates were right there.

He let out a gasp, hands moving to try and stop you. He didn’t want to cum that fast and definitely not first. He always got the woman off first, at least twice before he finally came. And even that could take a while but you were about to wrench an orgasm from him in minutes. There was no way.

“W-w-wait….ah….I’m….” He stuttered, vocabulary suddenly becoming limited as his orgasm rose.

You could feel his cock throb in your mouth, balls drawing up in your palm. Taking him down your throat once again, his trimmed pubic hairs tickling your nose, you massaged his balls as if trying to force them to give you his cum.

Jimin’s brain struggled to remember that stupid safe word. He needed you to stop before the worst happened.

Alas, two harsh sucks and one more squeeze of his balls and he was ascending.

A moan so loud and drawn out that he didn’t even believe it was him came from his throat. Hot splashes of cum hit the back of your throat and you swallowed it down greedily.

Sensitivity began to prickle at Jimin’s spine and cock as you continued to fondle and suck at him.

“Yellow yellow yellow.” He gasped out and you immediately backed away.

He slumped against the mattress, inhaling deep breaths and trying to calm his racing heart. Tiredness began pulling at his eyelids and he felt like he could fall asleep at any moment but then a weight settled on his chest.

He cracked open his bleary eyes, not expecting to find your glistening folds just inches from his face. When did you remove your panties? Despite just emptying his balls, he could feel his cock twitch. Damn, could you not?

He looked up to see your sultry eyes staring down at him. He gulped down a block in his throat. He was not expecting this.

“I’ll acknowledge your refractory period but just because your cock is down for the count right now doesn’t mean your mouth is.”

He was speechless. He’s never had a woman so shamelessly put her pussy right in his face and practically demand he eat her out.

You must have taken his dropped open mouth as an invite to scoot forward to place your pussy right in his face.

The initial shock had worn off the moment your wet pussy touched his lips. Like muscle memory, he latched onto your clit, hollowing his cheeks to suck on the nub. You hummed at finally getting some relief. Seeing Jimin’s pleasured face had gotten you excited quicker than usual.

You were itching to finally break him down, to stake your claim and inject yourself into his bloodstream until he couldn’t think about anyone else but you.

Shouldn’t be too hard judging by how frantically he was slurping and licking at your clit like it was his first meal in ages.

You rocked your hips against his face, melting into the feeling. His tongue flicked expertly over your clit, plush lips sucking in intervals in a slightly amateur and sloppy way but thankfully, you liked it. You thought it was cute. And you weren’t really picky when it came to oral, clit stimulation was more than enough.

“Hold your tongue out.” You ordered and of course, he followed. You rocked your clit against the rough texture of his tongue, hums and sighs of pleasure passing your lips.

Jimin lifted his hands to grab at your ass, pushing you against his tongue a little faster. This wasn’t a competition(as far as you were concerned) and no, Jimin wasn’t trying his hardest right now to prove a point! He was just being an equal partner in this. He got off so you should too! Yeah, that made sense.

You threaded your fingers through his soft hair, holding him still as you used his tongue to get off. Using your other hand to tweak at your own nipples, you fluttered your eyes shut as you relaxed and let yourself be taken away by his tongue.

Jimin let you take control(as if you ever gave it up) but after a little bit, he took it upon himself to worm one of his hands under you to start prodding at your leaking hole. You could feel his fingers, a smirk that he couldn’t see twitching at your lips.

One finger sunk past your opening, your walls clenching around the digit. His cock twitched again, imagining how tight you’d be around it. Fuck that refractory period. He was ready to go now.

He felt around your walls until he pressed against that rough patch inside of you. He noticed you didn’t really react so he pressed a little bit harder, feeling a little rush when your hips jumped. Ah, you like it rough, huh?

Slipping another finger inside, he hooked them right into that spot again. Your mouth dropped and a light moan escaped your lips. He also wrapped his lips around your clit again and harshly sucked at it, pulling a slightly louder noise from you.

You were kind of expecting this but you also weren’t. With other partners you had, it normally took some coaching and adjusting for them to know how you liked it but he seemed to be knowledgeable.

How cute.

Gripping his hair tighter, you bounced up and down on his fingers, his lips slurping at your clit in tandem.

“Mhm….yes. Just like that. I’m almost there.” You moaned. That pressure was building higher and higher until you were right on the edge.

Jimin closed his eyes, curling his fingers everytime you bounced, sucking your clit like a man starved. He wanted to see you cum, see you fall apart for him.

He needed to see it.

Jimin moaned against your clit, the vibrations sending sparks up your back, your own moan rivaling his.

“‘M gonna cum. Harder.” You said breathless.

Jimin hated how much you bossed him around but he couldn’t care much about that. Instead, he thrusted his fingers in and out of your wet cunt faster, your arousal dripping down his palm and wrist. He was spurred on by the wet and sloppy noises that your cunt made, his cock hardening incredibly fast.

With a final suck and one more curl of his fingers, you were releasing all over his face. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your thighs smothering his head as your body locked up.

Jimin licked at your clit until you were shivering in sensitivity, your hips moving back until you were sitting back on his chest. Jimin stretched out his arm that was aching from your previous position, flexing his hand a few times.

You leaned back to rest your palms on his thighs, tilting your head back as you tried to catch your breath.

Jimin’s dark and sharp eyes trailed down your body—glistening dark skin covered in sweat, your gorgeous breasts and nipples heaving with every breath, dark stretch marks painting the insides of your thighs.

Damn, you were a picture of sin and he wanted to sink his teeth into you.

“Tapping out? I’ll acknowledge your refractory period.” He teased.

You dropped your chin forward to stare at him, a cute smile on your face. Scooting back so that you were straddling him again, you leaned down to kiss his lips. With this position, you could rub your slick folds up and down his cock. He groaned at the feeling. He could only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around him.

Pulling away from his lips, you asked, “did you bring condoms? I have some if you didn’t. What size are you?”

Yes he brought condoms but why the hell did you have them?

“Uh….yeah. I’m normally a medium.”

That made you snort. “Normally? That’s a weird way to phrase it.” Reaching over to your nightstand, you pulled open a drawer to dig around for the right size.

Now that you mentioned condoms, he started thinking.

Did you really need one? You both disclosed your health in the car already.

(“You carry your STD results in your wallet? Do you have a lot of sex or something?”

“I like being prepared.”

“What a coincidence. Check the glove compartment.”)

His pull out game was definitely top tier and he didn’t want any kids anytime soon so that wasn’t really an issue. Obviously he wouldn’t say no if you really wanted to use one but your pussy felt so wet and warm around his fingers….

He wanted to feel it with no restrictions.

“Do we….”

You pulled the condom out, sitting back up on his lap. Your eyebrows raised, acknowledging that he wanted to speak.

“Yeah?”

He pulled his lip between his teeth. Why was he hesitating? He’s never felt nervous about asking for what he wanted during sex so why was his tongue getting tied now?

You could almost see the gears turning in his head. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he wanted but you wanted to hear him say it.

“Yes?” You pushed.

He lifted his eyes to meet yours, your irises swirling with amusement. You were really…..

Sighing, he forced out, “do we have to use one?”

There we go. You smiled, shrugging one shoulder. “Not if you don’t want to.” You tossed the foil wrapper to the side like a discarded piece of gum.

How many times had you completely baffled him? Like 7? 8? 54? You were just continuing to defy every expectation and standard he’s had in previous sexual escapades. First you give him body ascending head, then you sit on his face, and now you were agreeing to raw sex? Was he dreaming? No, right?

He was broken from his thousandth moment of self contemplation by you moving. You turned around in his lap, your juicy ass on display to him. At that moment, he took notice of the two shiny piercings nestling just at the base of your spine.

You were gonna kill him.

He hissed when your warm palm wrapped around his hard cock, pumping it a few times, aided by the arousal you rubbed over him a bit ago.

“Ready?” You asked him for the second time and a small part of him wanted to say no. Your head game was already crazy. What the hell was your riding game like?

Too late to go back now because you were lining up the head of his cock with your hole and sitting down on it. He held his breath once your hot and tight walls began sucking him in, each inch feeling like a mile as you lowered yourself down.

He released the breath once you were seated all the way on his lap. He already felt ready to cum again and you haven’t even done anything yet. Your pussy was wetter than before and your squishy walls were holding his cock hostage like a bank robber.

You sighed at the stretch. He definitely had girth, which you preferred over length but he was still long enough to reach your spots. Perfect.

Adjusting yourself on your knees, you have a few test movements. Not really bounces but just moving back and forth to get both of you adjusted.

Jimin already couldn’t handle it, his head falling back against the pillows. He reached out his hands to rest on your ass and you took that as a sign of him being ready for the real action.

Perching both hands on his knees, you got on your feet and started bouncing on his cock. He choked out a surprisingly loud moan, fingers digging into your ass and head lifting again to watch you go crazy. Your ass rippled and jiggled every time you met his pelvis, you’re slick soaking his cock and walls hugging him on every upward stroke.

The clapping of your ass sounded like damn gunshots as it ricocheted off his pelvis, the force of your bounces shaking your bed and scrambling his brain.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t talk. All he could manage was groans and uncharacteristic squeaks whenever your walls squeezed around him. You were pulling noises out of him he didn’t even know he was capable of making.

“Ah fuck!” He strained, sweat causing his bangs and hair at the back of his neck to stick uncomfortably to his skin.

You hummed, your claw clip starting to slip a little. “Your cock feels so good. It’s gonna make me cum.” You were starting to get a little winded from bouncing on your feet so you moved to your knees, still bouncing your ass up and down at the same pace.

His ears sounded like they were underwater so he didn’t hear a damn thing you said, too focused on watching how your hole stretched around his cock.

“Shit, s-slow down.” He begged but since you didn’t hear any of the traffic light colors, you kept going.

He was about to cum! Hard! Very hard!

You could feel his cock throbbing inside of you, saw how his toes curled and I curled, and how hard he was gripping your ass cheeks.

Licking your lips, you urged him, “Give it to me, baby. Cum in my tight pussy.” Balancing back on your feet, your hands going to your knees, you rode his cock harder than before. He thought you were about to break his pelvis but he’d sit in the hospital in a full body cast any day of the week.

“Fuck fuck fuck! Oh shit!” He cursed. A few more bounces and he was releasing inside your warm cunt. His ears rang and his vision blurred as the second hardest orgasm of his life rammed into him. You continued to ride him, milking him of every drop that he had.

His whole body was on fire, his throat tight and dry, heart hammering in his chest.

Sensitivity didn’t have time to settle in because he felt ready to cum again but it felt painful almost. Not necessarily in a bad way though. A part of him didn’t want you to stop.

And you didn’t.

Turning in his lap with his cock still inside(what the hell), you pushed his sweaty bangs back from his forehead—taking in his red cheeks and kiss swollen lips.

He was so cute. Cute enough to bite and you did. He flinched a little at the feeling of your teeth on his cheek.

“You’re not tapping out, are you?” You kissed across his jawline and chin. “You’re still so hard and I haven’t cum yet.”

He wasn’t going to make it out alive.

~

Jimin rose to the smell of a sweet perfume and clean laundry detergent. He groaned as he stretched his body, the soft sheets feeling amazing against his skin. His muscles and bones popped as he tried to alleviate some of the tension from sleeping.

He blinked away the haze of sleep, lifting his head to get a gauge of his surroundings then it all started rushing back to him.

The bar. Coming back to your place. The mind blowing sex.

You.

He slowly sat up, running his hand through his hair. He looked around the room, finding nothing out of the ordinary. He noticed his clothes from yesterday folded and placed near the foot of the bed.

Did you do that? Where were you?

He found his phone on your nightstand, plugged into a charger. He removed it and turned it on, finding a few messages from his friends asking if he was safe and one of his coworkers asking to switch a shift.

He texted Taehyung back, letting him know he was okay and to his coworker to agree to the shift change.

As he was in his phone, he heard the sound of clicking entering the room. He looked up, finding you walking into the bedroom, a robe wrapped around you and your hair hidden under a bonnet.

“Oh. You’re awake. Good morning.”

Morning? It was morning? He didn’t even notice the time.

10:21AM

What the hell? He’s never slept in that late after a one night stand. He’s never slept over at all.

Rule Number 2. Broken.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Morning.”

You walked over to your dresser to shuffle through some undergarments to wear. “I made some coffee if you want some.”

He hated coffee.

“No thanks.”

He tossed the blankets off his naked body, standing on wobbly legs. He glanced back over at you to see if you noticed but you were busy pulling panties up your legs. At the motion, he caught a glimpse of your perfect ass. He swallowed down a block in his throat.

No Jimin! You’ve already broken two rules! Don’t lose resolve.

As he slipped his clothes on, he couldn’t help but feel a little strange. Why did this feel so familiar?

You turned to him once you were done, sending him a sweet smile that made his heart stutter. “You can use the bathroom to brush your teeth and everything. I have some extra toothbrushes.“

He sniffed and ran a hand through his hair again. “Um….are you….did you….sleep well?” That was a dumb question to ask.

If you thought so, you didn’t mention it, instead smiling again. “I did. Did you? You practically passed out. I cleaned you up a bit. Hope you don’t mind.”

Heat rose to the tips of his ears. You cleaned him up? That’s why he didn’t feel sweaty or sticky. Wasn’t he supposed to do that for you? Then again, he wasn’t much of an aftercare type person with his previous partners. He’d let them use his bathroom or whatever but he never took initiative to clean his partners up.

You were so much different than him. He felt a little…..inadequate compared to you.

“Oh. Thanks.”

You hummed, turning around fully to face him. Why did he look so…..small? Not necessarily in size but in his posture and energy. He seemed a little nervous and out of place.

“Is something bothering you?” You inquired. You were hoping he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable about last night. He only used the color system once and he never said red so you assumed he was fine.

He cleared his throat again. “I just….can’t remember much from last night.”

You sighed in relief. “Oh, I thought something else was bothering you. That’s it?”

That’s it? You said it so dismissively, like his question was nothing to be concerned about.

“We went a few rounds but after the last one, you just passed out. I guess I wore you out, huh?” You giggled at that last part but he only felt hot embarrassment swell in him.

Ha! Fuck him to sleep? Hogwash.

Then again…..

“You’re also kind of a cuddle bug. I was surprised but it was nice. You’re very warm.”

He didn’t want to hear anymore of this.

“Where’s the bathroom?” He gruffly asked, turning his head away. It kind of reminded you of a small child refusing to eat their food. Cute.

You smirked but told him, “across the hall. I put a toothbrush on the counter along with a face towel.”

God he was sick of that cheeky little smirk. Stomping off to the bathroom, he grumbled about “not a cuddle bug” on his way.

After freshening up and screwing his back on straight, he ventured out of the bathroom back to the bedroom but you weren’t there. So he went to the living room instead, finding you sitting on your couch watching television.

You turned your head when you heard him enter.

“All done?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Cool. Did you need an Uber or anything?”

Ah, that’s what felt familiar.

Oh. Right. He had to leave. This was only a one time thing.

So why did he feel so……unwanted?

“No. I can….I can call one.”

You just nodded. “Cool.”

He just stared at the side of your head. That was it? Cool? You weren’t going to ask him stay? Or to have breakfast? He was used to women doing that but you…..you just sort of ignored him.

He didn’t like it. Why didn’t he like it?

Pulling out his phone, he requested himself an Uber, the app chiming and telling him his driver was 4 minutes away. He’s never gotten an Uber that quick. Where was this that night he was trying to get away from that girl who used too much teeth? She was crazy, chased him out the door and insulting him loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. The driver had to meet him a block down.

“It’ll be here soon.” He announced for some reason. He didn’t know why he felt the need to tell you that. It’s not like you cared.

You stood to your feet. “Alright.” Walking over to the front door, you opened it. Jimin didn’t let his slight disappointment show on his face, heavy feet carrying him to your front door.

He stepped past the threshold, turning to face you. You were ready to close the door but paused when you noticed him still standing there.

“Something wrong? Did you leave something?”

Yes. Yes he did. He was leaving so much right now. He couldn’t leave knowing someone as perfect as you existed. He couldn’t just let you go.

Running a hand through his hair, he propositioned, “are you free sometime?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Free? For what?”

“You know….to do this again.” He motioned with a hand.

“Oh, um. I don’t think so.”

Rejection. That was new.

“What? Why?”

You gave him a pitied smile and he’s never felt so small before.

“This was just a one time thing. It was nice, don’t get me wrong but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to keep seeing one another. You understand, right?”

No. No he didn’t. Why didn’t you want to see him again? The sex was just nice to you? So was he the only one who actually felt something?

“But….”

“I’ll definitely add you to the roster. Get home safe, okay?”

The door closed in his face and he was left there, speechless and feeling used.

~

Days passed after meeting you and Jimin couldn’t get you off his mind. All he could think about was your perfect ass and the way you rode his cock, how you prioritized his comfort and cleaned him up and even let him sleep over.

You weren’t everything he wasn’t and he wanted more of you.

He couldn’t focus at work. He spent his nights staring at his ceiling, lost in his thoughts. He didn’t even go out to parties or bars anymore.

He needed to see you again.

He needed to talk to Yoongi.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 ao3 (Complete)

Eddie has a telephone voice, which Dustin finds absolutely hysterical. As the pizza place answers, his whole register switches into something a little smoother, over-pronouncing each word, and Dustin watches him with undisguised glee.

Eddie must read his thoughts because while their order is repeated back to him, he blushes, covers the receiver and mouths, “Oh, fuck off.”

When he hangs up, he playfully cuffs Dustin on the back of the head. “Do you mind? I was putting on the performance of a lifetime there.”

“What performance?” comes Steve’s voice, and Dustin turns to see him leaning against the counter, Tews following at his heels.

“That I’m a polite young man, of course,” Eddie says with a toothy smile.

Steve whistles, all faux impressed. “The Academy will be in touch, man.” He dodges Eddie’s attempt to trip him up, smirking—then yawns a bit into his palm. “Henderson, your cat’s like a sleeping pill or something.”

Dustin scoops up Tews, rocks him until he wriggles out of his arms. “Why can’t you be cute like that with me? You just claw at all my clothes, you little shit.”

“Dustin!” Eddie gasps, “don’t use such language around the baby.”

“Yeah, dude,” Steve snickers. “Don’t wanna offend Mr Polite Young Man’s delicate sensibilities.”

Eddie whacks him with the take-out menu.

Their back-and-forth hardly stops all throughout dinner. Eddie makes it look easy, Dustin thinks: how he delivers each quip so there’s never a lingering silence, yet still spaces them out so that Steve has more time to retort back.

And because Eddie keeps talking engagingly, Steve clears his plate without seeming to realise it; and Dustin feels himself calm at the sight of his eyes gradually brightening.

It’s not the only sight he takes note of.

Eddie is sitting close to Steve, their shoulders touching—and whenever he wants the box of pizza passed to him, or more soda, he just taps Steve’s arm in question, all while carrying on the conversation. Maybe before, Dustin wouldn’t think anything of it, but now he considers how Eddie had sat on the couch with Steve, his hand in his hair, how he’s been there for him the whole day; and a silent little lightbulb goes off in Dustin’s brain.

Because it goes both ways.

The girls Steve has dated wouldn’t do this—have never done this, at least as far as Dustin can tell, remembering flashes of dates he’d seen on the rare occasions Steve wasn’t driving him places, at the cinema or diner, or…

He gets the feeling that Steve has always been subtly holding some parts of himself back with them. He doesn’t do that with Eddie. He lets him in.  Dustin watches as Eddie tidies the counter, gently nudging Steve out of the way with his hip. It’s like finally solving a puzzle: now Dustin knows which way to look, he can’t believe how he didn’t notice it before.

Instead of saying anything, he busies himself with finding fresh blankets for Steve. As he shakes them out, it occurs to him that this is kind of what Steve must do for him every time he stays over—the difference being that he’s over often enough to have a set of pyjamas waiting for him in the guest room. Steve even ironed them once, which Dustin had teased him relentlessly for, but secretly found it… nice.

As it nears 10pm, Steve suddenly jolts from where he’s sitting on the couch, dislodging Tews from his lap again.

“Sorry, baby,” Steve says distractedly, gives Tews an apologetic pat. Dustin notices the little pinch of stress around his eyes again, and doesn’t mention the fact that Eddie’s already got him calling his cat ‘baby’, too.

“What’s up?” Eddie says. He’s lounging on the floor, has a few of Dustin’s comics spread out in front of him.

“I told Robin I was gonna pick her up, I forgot. Shit, she’ll be closing soon.”

“On it,” Eddie says, almost singsong. In one move, he leaps to his feet and retrieves the keys to his van. “Back quicker than you can say—”

“Jack Robinson,” Dustin finishes; Eddie says it a lot, probably picked it up from his uncle.

Eddie winks at him, turns to Steve and gives a dimpled little smile before leaving.

Steve looks off into the distance, still frowning.

After making sure Tews has safely moved over to his food bowl, Dustin jumps onto the couch, blankets and all.

“Oof,” Steve huffs, “you trying to crush me?” But though he acts like he’s going to shove Dustin off, he never once does.

They poke at each other, complaining about bony elbows and freezing feet. As Dustin adjusts the blankets, he shifts so that Steve’s the one on the inside of the couch. Steve has never mentioned anything, but Dustin’s suspected for a little while that he likes to sleep with his back against a surface; probably makes him feel less exposed.

Now that Eddie isn’t here, Dustin can’t stop his mind from wandering back to Steve, sitting alone in the junkyard. To the thought of him waking up in an empty house, terrified out of his mind.

“You know you can… like, stay over whenever, right?” Dustin says.

Steve has said pretty much the same to him, but Dustin knows there’s a bit of a difference: that maybe Steve finds it easier to offer than take something for himself.

He feels Steve shrug next to him.

“Uh, you sure? Don’t wanna cramp your style, little man.” His voice goes into his parody of a middle-aged suburban dad, and Dustin has a sudden clarity about what his aim is: to make Dustin scoff and roll his eyes at him, and forget about the offer.

But he doesn’t take the bait.

He leans briefly into Steve’s shoulder and says, “You know I’d be fine with it, right? Like, Mike and Nancy, they hang out all the time even if they don’t act like it, just barge into each other’s rooms. Same thing with Lucas and Erica. Like, sure, they annoy each other sometimes, but that kinda comes with the deal.”

“Oh,” Steve says softly, and Dustin glances to the side; he doesn’t know what it is that he’s said, but Steve looks deeply touched. “Thanks, Dustin. Really. Thanks.” Dustin takes a deep breath. Gathers his courage. “I get them, too.”

“Huh?”

Dustin sighs, turns a little into Steve’s side. “Nightmares,” he mumbles.

“Oh,” Steve says again, and he wraps an arm around Dustin. “Oh, bud, I’m sorry. You… you wanna talk about it?”

Dustin pauses. Nods.

Steve squeezes his shoulders. “I know what happened with… with Eddie was awful, man, it’s my fault you went through all that shit alone—”

“No,” Dustin interrupts, because making Steve feel guilty isn’t remotely his aim. “They’re not… they’re not only about Eddie.” He closes his eyes; he’s not told this to anyone. “Sometimes they’re about you. Losing you.”

Silence.

“Sometimes the bats get you, too. Or…” And it’s stupid that what he says next makes him falter—compared to the previous dreams, it’s hardly anything, no blood or gore, but…

“Or you’re—I can see you, and I-I can’t tell which one of us is in The Upside Down, but you… you can’t hear me.”

“Hey.” Steve gently prods Dustin in the cheek, holds his gaze. “I’d always hear you. You never have to doubt that, got it? I’ll always come find you.”

Dustin nods again—for a moment, doesn’t trust himself to speak. He wiggles a little closer, sniffs.

Steve pulls him into a proper hug. “I’m sorry, I just—fuck, I get so scared sometimes, Dustin. I don’t—” He swallows. “I know I don’t say it, but, God, I love you so damn much. I don’t want a-anything to happen to you.”

Dustin returns the hug. Pulls back and makes sure Steve is looking him in the eye when he says, deadpan, “Steve. I hate to break it to you, but so much has happened to me.”

Steve snorts. “You know what I—ugh, you’re the worst.”

Dustin pauses. “But if something ever did happen,” he says carefully, tries to measure his tone to show he doesn’t mean anything Upside Down-related, not anymore, “then we’d be okay, in the end, I swear. You’ve got me, I’ve got you, right?”

Steve exhales. Nods a little jerkily. “Right.”

And what the hell, Dustin figures he might as well say it now—it’s too important to just remain an unsaid, sort of mutually understood thing.

“Steve? I love you, too.”

It takes a second, and then Dustin feels Steve start to shake. This time, the tears aren’t hidden; he just… lets them be.

“Aw, goddamn it,” Steve laughs wetly, “why’d you have to go and say that?”

“You started it,” Dustin says.

“Shut up,” Steve says, lips trembling a bit as he smiles.

Dustin gives him time, just waits in the quiet until Steve’s breathing comes out steady again.

“J,” Steve says eventually.

“Jaws,” Dustin says.

“Oh, boo. Predictable, Henderson.”

“V.”

“…Damn it, all I can think of is Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”

“That doesn’t start with V, dumbass.”

Steve lets out a long yawn, like it’s crept up on him. “I know, butthead.”

They go on like that, throwing out letters and movie titles like it’s a tennis match. Gradually, it takes longer and longer for Steve to reply, his voice growing mumbly until it trails off entirely; and Dustin feels him go slack and heavy with sleep.

He looks up at the ceiling, hears the front door softly open and close. Tews is in the hallway, greeting Eddie with a more vocal miaow, and Dustin laughs quietly as he hears Eddie croon, “Oh, baby, hello, aren’t you just the best, huh?”

When he enters the living room, Eddie spots that Steve’s fallen asleep immediately. His expression softens, and then he smiles, looks at Dustin and says, “You’re gonna get a crick in your neck if you keep laying all stiff like that.”

“Was worried I’d wake him up.”

“Nah, you won’t. Here, I’ll help.”

And Eddie very carefully manages to tilt Steve further against the back of the couch, giving Dustin just enough room to move away from the embrace so he can stretch out properly.

Eddie is about to head back to his spot on the floor, where he’s placed a sleeping bag from the van, when Steve makes a tiny, vague noise of distress.

Dustin and Eddie both freeze.

“M’gotta…” Steve sighs, face twitching. His eyes remain closed. “Car keys, where… they need… have to…”

“Shh. Hey, Steve, you’re okay.” Eddie reaches across, strokes Steve’s hair. “You’re… you’re just dreaming, sweetheart.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s it, go back to sleep. You’re at Dustin’s remember? Everyone’s safe.”

“Dustin,” Steve echoes faintly. “Safe…”

Eddie waits until Steve has settled back into a deep, hopefully dreamless sleep, then draws back his hand.

Dustin turns, watches him unzip the sleeping bag and lie down.

“Do you love him?” he asks.

Eddie stares up at him. Then: “Yeah,” he says simply.

“Good,” Dustin says.

Eddie’s mouth parts slightly. He blinks. “That’s it?” he whispers.

Dustin blinks back at him. “I mean, yeah? Should I… um, have said something else?”

Eddie exhales a laugh, smiles. “No, you’re good. That was… great.”

A moment of comfortable silence.

“Hey, Dustin.” Eddie lowers his voice further, even though Steve’s out for the count. “He, uh. He doesn’t know, okay? Not… not yet.”

“I kinda think he does, though,” Dustin says, then pulls back the blanket so he can raise one hand in acknowledgment. “But, like, I’m not gonna tell him. Swear on my mom.”

Eddie laughs again, and he somehow makes it sound thoughtful. “We’ll get there, man.”

And Dustin knows Eddie isn’t just referring to him and Steve, dancing around the beginning of something great.

Dustin thinks of Steve waking up and checking the news for car wrecks. Of the nightmares, shared between them all.

We’ll get there.

“You can come round whenever, too, obviously,” Dustin says. “Like, we could make it a thing? Saturdays or something, mom won’t mind. All three of us.”

Eddie’s expression goes soft again, his eyes overly bright. It kind of reminds Dustin of how his mom sometimes looks at him on the first day of school, or Christmas morning.

“What?”

Eddie smiles. “Nothing.” He sighs, closing his eyes. “Just… wish more people were as kind as you, Dustin Henderson.”

Dustin looks down at him, pride and affection welling in his chest. He can feel Steve’s light snores ruffling his hair, and he shuts his eyes, knows that two of the people he loves most in the world are on either side of him.

We’ll be okay. We’ll get there.

[shoshiwrites]

Into The Wind

I thought it might be fun to take my WarCo OC Jo, normally featuring in a Band of Brothers WIP, on a little field trip to Thorpe Abbots — no background knowledge necessary (I hope!) ♡

“See, they come in here, right, like we all learned how to do this for fun-”

“Did though, didn’t we?”

She leans against the doorframe, silent, the huddle of jackets and collars faced away from her.

The back of his hand flies out to lightly whack his friend on the arm. “Besides the point, Buck- hey- anyway, comes in here like he can fly our planes- like he’s got any idea-”

“Heard this one’s a dame though-”

He pauses. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Dunno why else Harding would be on the phone talking through his teeth about women’s facilities-”

“We got Tatty and Helen and the rest of ‘em, don’t we?”

“I’m just sorry for the poor bastards who have to listen to him next. Mr. Kalamazoo Dispatch. Think he’ll ditch the jacket?”

“The last thing we need is another reporter. Struttin’ around, getting in our business-”

“Right, there can only be one strut-er, one peacock around here-”

“Right.”

It’s not a surprise, not even a little. But she’s hardly leaving now, not with the strings someone had yanked to get her here. Maybe they wanted you for a reason. After Mr. Easy As Pie, in his leather jacket. It sits in her stomach like a stone. Her eyes refocus to the light streaming through the windows, the dust motes and the papers tacked to the walls. The tap of her shoe when she shifts her weight catches the ear and then the eye of one, and then the entire group. 

All eyes, on her. 

The one who’d been talking turns around, and she has no choice to but to walk towards the table. Guess you’re not leaving now, are you? He blinks like they’ve conjured her out of thin air.

A few ma’ams, the scrape of a chair foot.

“Would you call that a strut?” she asks. “Need to know if I should be careful.”

What the fuck, Jo?

She’s sure she sees the one next to him look amused, the tiniest tip-up of his mouth. 

He looks up at her, eyes stopping at her shoulders, the collar of her blouse and the tiny hoops in her ears glinting in the light. Like he’s daring her to argue with his assessment, just a little. “Just as long as you’re not looking for a ride on any practice missions.”

The words hang there like fruit past picking. Someone snorts. 

“No, I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.” He smiles, halfway to a smirk. It warms his eyes. “So, what’s your name, sunshine?”

The Clarion hadn’t been printing it — she was Your Special Correspondent, which she’d pressured them to change from Your Trusty Correspondent. They were angling for Your Girl Overseas. But, she had to go for something, right? How could she expect the same from them, otherwise?

“Jo Brandt.”

He goes like popcorn around the table, introducing — the quiet one is Major Cleven. Douglass. Blakely. Cruikshank. And he’s Major Egan. “You can call me Bucky.”

“Major Egan.”

He gives a theatrical huff. All legs, in that chair. Smiling, like something’s a foregone conclusion. His eyes dart to the class ring on her finger, her left hand. She’s got another security briefing at the top of the next hour, and it’s almost a relief. 

“My apologies for the interruption, gentlemen,” she says, even though it’s hardly one. “Please continue your meal.” They're already done anyway, she can see that, the haphazard silverware and empty coffee cups. 

“We’ll be seeing you, though, right?” he calls, even before she’s turned to go. “Around?”

“Yes. As long as I don’t strut?”

He’s still smiling. “Yes, ma’am.”

She can hear the mutters as she walks back out, the sound of at least one man getting elbowed in the ribs. “I wouldn’t say no-”

The breeze outside brings a chill through her, the smell of damp spring and grass deadened by the winter. She has a uniform to get made, back in London. No more homemade blouses, the ones with embroidery. No flight jackets, either. She doesn’t know who she’ll be to them, not yet, but she knows who she doesn’t want to be.

[pizzaqueen]

Buckingham with a side of Steddie / just under 1k / rated T

Thank you for the encouragement to post this @courtjestermunson (and thank you to @legitcookie for also being encouraging about it)

“Never have I ever…” Robin twirls her hair, biting her lip. They’ve been playing for long enough that her head is starting to spin a little, though in a nice way, which is weird because head spinning shouldn’t feel nice, should it? She shakes her head, regrets it, then says, “Kissed a guy.”

She’s not surprised to see Chrissy drink where she’s sitting with her legs tucked beneath her on the other side of the coffee table. (God, she’s so pretty.) And she’s not surprised to see Eddie drink beside her. But, when she turns to tell Steve it’s his turn, and sees him tip his drink to his mouth, the shock sends the whole room spinning.

“You can’t… You can’t drink just because you want to,” she says. “You have to have done the thing.”

“I know.”

“But you haven’t…” Robin licks her lips. Steve gives her a look that says Yeah I have. Holy shit. “Who?”

On her other side, Eddie clears his throat and, when she looks over, he wiggles his fingers and says, “That would be me,” grinning.

Robin looks back to Steve. “You kissed Eddie and you didn’t tell me?”

“It was a recent development,” Steve says, arms folded over his stomach.

“Very recent,” Eddie adds.

Robin blinks. Through the haze of alcohol, she remembers Eddie and Steve slipping away to the kitchen earlier, Steve coming back looking all flushed and— “Did you guys kiss in my kitchen?” They were gone a while and they’d looked rumpled, too. “Oh my god.” She whacks Steve’s knee. “Did you make out in my kitchen?”

“A little?” Steve holds his fingers up, pinching them together.

“Ugh.” Robin screws her nose up. “How come you never told me?” She leans toward Steve, nearly losing her balance.

“I didn’t really know I wanted to until I did, you know?” No, Robin doesn’t know—she’s never not known she wanted to kiss girls—but Steve rubs the back of his neck, gaze flicking beyond Robin, probably to Eddie. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Um…” Robin’s a little confused and she’s a little hurt that Steve didn’t tell her but if he didn’t know then she guesses he couldn’t have told her, so it’s not like he didn’t trust her or anything. “Yes,” she says, “later,” and blinks at the glass in her hand. “Who’s turn is it?”

“It’s mine,” Steve says, shaking his head.

Next time it’s Robin’s turn, she decides to be brave. Steve was brave—or maybe drunk—so she can be too. “Never have I ever kissed a girl,” she says and, with an encouraging look from Steve, adds, “Yet.”

Steve drinks, a small smile hidden behind his glass.

Eddie drinks, which makes Robin furrow her brows in his direction. He shrugs. “Wanted to be sure, I guess.” He grins. “Wasn’t my thing.”

She nods.

But when Chrissy drinks, Robin’s heart stutters, and everything comes to a stop. At least Steve looks surprised this time, though Eddie doesn’t.

“It was at a party. Spin the bottle.” Chrissy shrugs. She looks at Robin across the divide of the coffee table Robin’s dad made before she was born, her cheeks pink in the candlelight. “It was kind of nice, actually.”

Robin decides to file that way for later. Well, she would if her mental filing system wasn’t total chaos right now. All she can think to say is:

“Oh my god, am I the only person who still hasn’t kissed anyone?” At the ensuing silence, Robin picks up the bottle of whiskey Steve purloined from his father, unscrews the cap and drinks right from it.

“Gimme that.” Steve tugs the bottle out of her hands.

“I’m depressed! I want to be drunk.”

“You’re already drunk.” Steve rolls his eyes. “We all are.”

Robin groans and flops back onto the shag rug. “This game is dumb.”

“The night’s not over, yet, Buckley,” Eddie says, then shuffles off to the record player. He puts on Cream, makes a vaguely approving noise, and comes back to sit next to Steve.

“Hey, Robin,” Chrissy says.

Robin lifts her head.

“I could use a glass of water.” Chrissy’s fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater. “Come to the kitchen with me?”

“Oh, it’s fine, you can help yourself.” Robin waves back toward the kitchen. “The glasses are in the first cabinet.”

“Well, I…” Chrissy bites her lip. “Okay.” She hesitates a moment, then pushes herself to her feet, heading toward the kitchen. “You don’t need anything?”

“Nope. I’m fine.” Oh, she is so far from fine. First, Steve kisses Eddie in her kitchen, and now Robin finds out Chrissy Cunningham has kissed another girl and it was kind of nice actually? Definitely not fine.

“Okay,” Chrissy says again, and slips into the kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Eddie says.

“Yeah.”

Steve nudges her knee and says, “Are you really sure?” looking pointedly toward the kitchen.

“Yeah…” There’s something here Robin isn’t getting, she’s not drunk enough to not know that. But what? “I don’t…”

“Oh my god,” Steve says, face in his hands, “just go to the kitchen with her!”

Robin looks between Steve and Eddie, both of them giving her expectant looks and Chrissy didn’t need Robin’s help but she asked her to go to the kitchen with her, anyway, and…

Oh.

Oh?

“Chrissy, wait.” She scrambles to her feet, stumbling over her own steps as she heads for the kitchen.

Chrissy’s standing by the sink, sipping a glass of water, brows raising at Robin.

“I guess I need something after all?” Robin doesn’t mean it to come out as a question, but maybe she misinterpreted Steve and Eddie, and she doesn’t want to mess this up.

But then Chrissy smiles, tentative, beautiful, and says, “Maybe I can help,” and Robin’s stomach swoops.

She smiles back and says, “I hope so,” heart racing when Chrissy curls her hand around her wrist and closes the distance between them.

[taduki]

Lucio and Morga with a Pregnant MC (side hc of Morga’s Family Fav)

Lucio route, obviously. Grandma Morga for the win. I just really love this trio, okay? 😭🙏 MC’s pregnancy could have been traditionally or magically induced.

If the child was conceived by accident, Lucio was definitely fearful at first. Childcare is not his expertise and if he ever wanted to have children with you, he would’ve preferred to have been fully ready for it.

Morga was unusually quiet when you told her the news. Lucio hadn’t told her ANY plans on having or raising children.

Lucio once asked you if the baby would come out flying or glowing or something as a joke and Morga whacked him over the head…

She was very straightforward about asking what you are to do with the child. As much as she’s a stickler for the facts and her morals, she allows herself the benefit of the doubt in your freedom to choose.

Full-on refuses to speak with Lucio for a time. It’s not that she had nothing to say — Oh, she had LOTS to say — but the fact of the matter was that Lucio was going to be a father, whether he was ready for it or not, and whatever she says to him must be for the benefit of you and the child.

She strongly suggests that you stay at her camp for the time being so she can midwife for you. If you bring up the idea to Lucio, he is GOING to keel over and sob. Good for him tbh. You’re the priority right now. He actually ends up agreeing to it because he knows he can’t take proper care of you and the baby all by himself, as much as he wants to.

Grandma Morga for the win.

She appears very often to bring you helpful herbs and check in on you. Holds back a knowing grin when you have to down nasty teas.

When Lucio isn’t around, she shares her pregnancy stories with you, how her husband had to order her to rest, and how she’d dread the frequent visits to the doctor’s hut because she knew he would dote on her all month.

She invites you on patrols and gathering expeditions in the beginning, but by the third trimester, she keeps you closer to the camp, just in case.

The doctor is there to help deliver the baby of course, but Morga herself is there to midwife, just as she’d stated before. She may not be verbally empathizing with you, but she holds your hand while Lucio holds the other.

She thought he’d miss the delivery, but he made it because he was so worried about you. He always made sure he was nearby at all times and reassured you he’d be there, no matter what.

The baby miraculously resembles Lucio, even as a newborn. Their hair is white like snow, so when Morga tells you they look just like him, he’s a little confused, but endeared.

Morga smiles calmly for what seems like the first time since you met her.

She is deeply reluctant to offer you advice on ANYTHING emotional. Though she has respect for her own knowledge on general parenting, she knows she did not do right by Lucio, and often thinks about the millions of things she could’ve done differently. Stops thinking after the first little baby giggle.

Mean, secretly spoiling grandma Morga.

Indulgent, yet “oh god, MC, what if I’m not good enough?” Lucio.