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orlaunderrated · 8 days ago

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The Edges of Us: Chapter 24

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Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader

Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 7.4k+

Note: GUYS i promise we will be rid of george soon!! not yet tho.

RQ- taglist friends, does my taglist work?

also this is based off the video Youtubers control what Sidemen eat for a day bc it features both Will and George ands its one of the few recent-er sidemen sundays i go back and rewatch. It makes me giggle that george is wearing a white fox hoodie?? idk if its just an australian thing but i think whitefox is like exclusively for the girlies who do pilaties or like, if you are 12.

Also i know it makes no sense in this timeline but just... suspend disbelief i beg/

xxx

George wasn’t kidding.

I wake up to 17.2k followers.

Seventeen thousand, two hundred people. Watching. Scrolling. Lurking.

My brain doesn’t register it at first — I open Instagram out of habit, thumb-heavy and half-asleep — but then I see the number at the top of the screen and freeze.

“Seventeen?” I whisper, like maybe I’ve hallucinated it.

It’s the premiere photo. The one George’s manager posted without warning — me and him on the carpet, posed like we’re something. She tagged me. Just like he said she would.

Thank you to @AnActionMovie for having us at the premiere night ft. the best one @y/f/n.html

The comments are chaos:

“wait she’s GORGEOUS 🔥” “the soft launch is over lads” “who is she??” “PR relationship?? be serious” “guys stop being weird she’s just a person” "I think they're just friends" “she’s kind of giving tbh 👀” “not what I imagined but ok 💔” “nah she’s from the old uni tiktoks I swear” “this ain’t it 😭” “you’re all just mad she’s not you lol” "guys in the interview he said they're best mates"

People are deep-diving.

Proper CSI: Instagram.

They’ve gone through every tagged photo, every ancient highschool and uni upload. Someone found a 2018 picture of me on our Exeter kitchen floor, hoodie stained with ramen, George behind me laughing with his hand in my hair. We weren’t even close then.

There’s another photo — grainy, awkward — and I blink at it like I’m seeing a ghost.

“Is that from my mum’s Facebook??” I mutter.

The one where I’m wearing that awful jumper with the weird sleeves, sitting cross-legged on a couch like a lost kid. There's like ten other people in the photo, but George and I are sat next to eachoter. His arm is around mine lazily, and im leaning into the other guy beside me.

I think me and the other guy were dating? Or had been on a date? I don’t remember.

I don’t even remember posting it. But someone screenshot it and reposted it on TikTok with a caption like “she's been there since day one.” and some trending love song behind it.

I nearly dropped my phone.

There are edits now. Slideshow reels. Sad music. People drawing heart-shaped arrows over our shoulders just barely touching. Narratives forming out of nothing.

“they were so lowkey for so long… the real ones always are 💍” “he’s BEEN in love with her don’t lie” “they just look like they get each other 🥺” "He said theyre just friends to protect her, I can'tttttt"

And I can’t stop thinking —

You lot have no idea.

You don’t know about the years I spent watching him fall for other people. You didn’t see the way he hesitated when I kissed him. Or how small I felt when he introduced me at the premiere, and didn’t call me his girlfriend.

But TikTok has decided we’re soulmates.

So now there are fan edits of my face.

One of them ends with a blurry photo of George looking at me — I don’t even remember the moment — and the caption:

“when he looks at you like that… it’s already over for him 🫶”

I laugh. Sharp and quiet.

Because yeah. Maybe he does look at me like that.

And maybe I look like someone who he's certain about.

But I’m not.

I scroll through my grid. Past the food photos, the sunsets, the filler. Down to the soft launch.

Will’s hand around a coffee cup. Our shadows on a brick footpath. A jar of olives in my kitchen, filtered warm and captioned “lately”.

God, what was I even doing? I had 300 followers. Who was I soft-launching to — Ruth? My Dad?

The whole thing feels laughable now. Like a bad joke from a version of me that thought posting him would make it real. That soft-launching a situationship counted for something.

I archive them all.

Poof. Gone.

Like he was never there.

Now it’s just me, in a cheap dress, next to George Clarkey.

No Will. No context. No truth. Just vibes.

@y/f/n.html 17.9k followers. And apparently, a fandom.

Ruth texts me:

you’re famous now. you have a fandom

Also girl we need to hang out, I haven't seen you in forever.

I want to laugh. Or cry. Or lie face down in a lake.

Mainly about this whole mess but also about not seeing Ruth. That does suck.

Instead, I whisper to my pillow:

“All I am is George Clarkey’s girlfriend — and he can’t even say that.”

It still sounds made up. Still feels like a bit someone wrote for me.

But online — in the comments, the tags, the edits — it’s true.

And somehow, it feels more official than anything he’s ever actually said.

I check one last comment before closing the app:

“she soft-launched this man before any of us were even born 💀”

And honestly?

Yeah. Maybe I did.

xxx

I’m staring at the of my bedroom, the faint hum of London traffic filtering through the window. Today’s the day they scheduled that IT maintenance at work, which means—by some cruel twist of fate—I have a whole free day. A day George immediately hijacks.

Come on, he texts me again for the third time, like a kid trying to convince their mum. You’ll love it. Sidemen shoot. Big fun day out.

I roll my eyes but don’t reply. George’s world — bright, loud, chaotic — is a universe away from mine, with its neat lines of code and endless debugging. I get the appeal, I really do, but it’s exhausting trying to keep up with his enthusiasm for a job I barely understand.

I begrudgingly agree.

When he shows up at the flat, half an hour later, I’m still in my pajamas, nursing a lukewarm coffee and trying to remind myself why I even agreed.

He’s in my hoodie, which makes me giggle without meaning to.

Why is this insanely handsome man — YouTube-famous, public-facing, probably-recognised-at-airports — wearing my oversized navy White Fox hoodie? It's a brand aggressively marketed to women who do Pilates and drink green juice, not… George.

Well, oversized on me. On him, it fits like it was made for him. Stretched just right across the shoulders, sleeves rolled to the forearms like he’s done this a hundred times.

I want to call him out on it, but it feels very… boyfriendy, even though its usually the other way around. I just giggle at it.

“You should come,” George says, like it’s the best idea in the world. “It’s fun. And who knows — maybe it’ll get you an in to a job or something.”

I raise an eyebrow, setting my mug down. “George, I’ve told you, I have a job, I don’t need a job.”

He grins, undeterred. “But you have an audience now, YN. People want more of you.”

“Okay...?” I say, sceptical. Not sure where this is going. I have an audience now because I'm his girlfriend, not because I'm interesting.

He shrugs, a cocky smirk playing at his lips. “Fine, fine. But you’re still coming. I want to show you off.”

I stare at him for a second — half amused, half exasperated. Typical George. Can’t take no for an answer. But maybe... maybe it won’t be so bad.

I set my mug down, sighing. Maybe it won’t be so bad. I get up, pull on something less like pyjamas and more like “I’m-not-entirely-reluctant,” then grab my coat and follow him out the door, London’s grey morning swallowing us whole.

It’s a different language — his world of clicks and takes and viral videos — and mine of silent coding marathons. Sometimes it feels like we’re orbiting two different planets, and I’m the one who keeps trying to land on his.

But I give in, because... maybe I’m still trying to find somewhere I belong with him. With us. Somewhere I’m not just YN who uses weird slang, or George’s weird friend with a 9-5.

And no, his flat doesn’t count.

Xxx

The shoot is set in a swanky apartment building — the kind of place with floor-to-ceiling windows that give you that impossible city view. Inside, it’s like an art installation meets a tech warehouse. They’ve got three different filming setups scattered across the space, each one loaded with gear. Cameras on rigs, lightboxes humming softly in the corners, stabilizers mounted on poles.

It’s organized chaos — but somehow, it all comes together in this frantic, effortless rhythm. Everyone’s constantly moving, setting up, packing down, getting ready to shift to the next shot. And then there are the handheld cameras, getting ready to capture all the action on the go. Cameramen booting up their cameras, ready for a day of racing from one angle to the next like the scene might break into a chase at any moment.

It reminds me of Will’s studio. God, I haven’t been there in months. The thought catches me off guard — part nostalgia, part something tighter in my chest.

There’s a soft buzz in the air, but it’s a happy kind of busy. Nobody looks stressed — just focused, moving fast, like everyone knows exactly what they need to do. Someone’s furiously writing on a colourful spinning wheel prop, bright markers flying across the glossy surface. Nearby, a young woman balances a precarious amount of takeaway coffee cups, in her hands, handing out orders with practiced ease, the scent of espresso mingling with the faint hum of camera motors.

Voices overlap: quiet instructions, laughter, the occasional burst of excitement when a mic starts working again. The air smells faintly of electronics and takeaway food — the strange perfume of content creation in progress.

George is already weaving through the crowd, his easy confidence a sharp contrast to my own uncertainty. He grabs my hand, pulling me along as he chats with a couple of crew members. “See? This is the magic,” he says, eyes bright. “You could be right here, doing this. It’s a whole world.”

I nod, trying to ignore the blatant disregard for what I’ve said a million times. Just imagine myself fitting in here, he says — like it’s that easy. But all I can think about is Will. I didn’t even ask if he was going to be here today. Why would he be, right?

I hate that I still think of him sometimes. I'm literally in a happy relationship, why does the ghost of a northerner who doesn’t like me haunt my air?

George is pulling me around, introducing me to the crew and Sidemen, but my attention flickers from person to person, trying to keep up. I recognise Harry, he's over at the flat a lot. I think him and Chris are quite close. Then, out of nowhere, a familiar voice cuts through the hum of conversation.

“Mate!” Chris calls, his voice loud and full of that easy energy that always makes me smile.

I spin around, heart skipping. “Oh my God, Chris is here!” I say, genuinely excited. I’ve missed his presence here—he’s one of the few people I actually feel comfortable around.

But then my eyes catch movement beyond Chris. There, leaning casually against a table, is Will. Quarter-zip hoodie, black cap, hands shoved in his pockets, smirking like he owns the place. He’s joking with one Ieuan, totally relaxed.

Oh my goodness, Ieuan! God today is just full of nostalgia for an era of my life that wasn’t even six months ago. Crazy how things change. I totally forgot he does freelance stuff for the Sidemen.

Will and I lock eyes from across the room.

Suddenly, the noise around me fades, as if the world has pulled a curtain between us and everyone else. No words pass between us, but something coils tight inside my chest — a strange, aching knot of surprise, unfinished stories, and a ghost of warmth I thought I’d buried long ago.

Will leans back against the table, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk curling on his lips like he’s daring me to unravel. It’s the kind of smirk that carries all the weight of unspoken things — apologies I never got, regrets we never shared, and a thousand things left unsaid.

A smirk? Oh, that bastard.

I meet his gaze and hold it, though every breath feels heavy, like I’m standing on the edge of something I’m not sure I want to face again. It’s as if the silence between us is screaming with all the words we never dared say.

There’s history there — sharp, raw, and tangled — and in that moment, I’m not sure if I want to step closer or run away.

Chris turns his head, following the direction of Will’s gaze, and his eyes land on me. A wide grin spreads across his face. “YN!” he calls out, his voice carrying easily over the background noise. “Great to see you! Enjoying the newfound fame, yeah?”

His tone is light, teasing — the kind of banter that usually makes me smile. But right now, it feels oddly hollow, like a spotlight shining on everything I’m trying to ignore.

I force a smile, feeling the weight of a thousand eyes I don’t actually see. Fame. Audience. The whole package George keeps hinting at but that still feels like some other life.

Chris claps me on the shoulder, warmth and familiarity in the gesture. “Seriously though, it’s good to have you here.”

I nod, trying to match his easy confidence, but my eyes flicker back to Will — still leaning against the table, smirk in place, watching me like I’m a puzzle he’s still trying to figure out.

He used to look at me like that, way back when; before our summer romance, when everything was falling apart and he’d pull me out of my spiral just by showing up. Back when we pretended to hate each other so well, you’d think we’d nailed a rom-com script.

Too bad I can’t hate him now. Not that I haven’t tried. But I do hate that smirk. I just want to wipe that smug look off his face. Like, make it disappear.

Poof, gone.

That look? It’s got history. It's messy, complicated, and way too familiar. And it’s poking at something in me I’d hoped was long dead.

Chris, oblivious to the silent tension stretching between us, keeps chatting, “You getting used to all the attention? I bet George is proud.”

George’s grip tightens ever so slightly on my shoulder, and I realize he’s been watching too. To be honest I didn’t even realise he was behind me, or even still holding onto me for that matter.

I force a smile. “Yeah, just... caught me off guard. I didn’t expect to get 30k followers in a week.”

George nudges me gently. “Come on, I want to introduce you to someone.”

He steers me through the crowd, stopping beside a guy crouched over a camera rig like it’s something sacred.

“This is Daniel,” George says. “He’s one of the tech guys. No, sorry, The tech guy—audio, cameras, whatever’s broken.”

Daniel looks up and offers a small smile, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He seems cool, in a nerdy, quiet sort of way. The kind of guy who probably owns one T-shirt in ten shades and calls it a wardrobe.

His T-shirt is plain, olive green, slightly wrinkled. The kind of shirt you don’t think twice about — unless, of course, you’re wearing it every day in different colours.

“Hey,” Daniel says, voice a little soft but friendly. “Welcome to the circus.”

I smile, already liking him more than most of the loud YouTuber energy in the room. There’s something grounding about someone who clearly knows exactly who they are — even if it’s a guy in the same shirt forever.

George gets pulled away to get mic’d up and I’m left next to Daniel, who’s quietly adjusting levels on a monitor, his brow furrowed in that very specific tech-guy way that says do not disturb unless you're on fire.

After a beat, he glances at me. “So… are you interested in the Technical Producer or Production Assistant gig?”

I blink. “Uh. No? Neither, sorry. I think there's been a misunderstanding.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’ve been recommended by, like, six people already.”

I squint at him, surprised. “By who?”

Daniel counts casually on his fingers. “Let’s see… George, obviously. Chris, Orla and Abbey who are producers in this kinda space" He cringes at his own words, which makes me fee better for also cringing, "And, um… Ieuan, over there” He nods towards the door, where Ieuan is probably still standing. Daniel pauses, like he knows he’s saving the best for last. “Will.”

My stomach does something stupid. “Will?” I ask, because I need to hear it again to believe it. “Will recommended me?”

Daniel nods, not picking up on the spiral beginning to form behind my eyes. “Yeah. Last week, I think? He said you’d be a good fit. Systems thinker, but, you know—people-smart, too. His words.”

My brain short-circuits for a second. Last week. Last week? After all of this — after the silence. After the distance. After… George.

I nod slowly, trying to keep my face neutral. “Huh.”

It’s all I can manage.

I think of Orla and Abbey, too. I haven’t seen them in ages — not properly. I sort of knew them through Will’s shoots, always in the background with clipboards and inside jokes, making everything run without getting the credit. They were funny, in that not-meaning-to-be, blink-and-you-miss-it way. I liked them. I miss them. I didn’t realise how much until now.

One of them always had a KitKat for me in the studio fridge. The kind of quiet kindness that never really goes unnoticed. Ever.

“So can I tell you about the job anyway?” Daniel asks, slouching back onto a folding chair and picking up a tablet. “I’ve got nothing else to do.”

I shrug. “Sure. Knock yourself out.” I sit down next to him in another folding chair. I wish I had any idea why someone has brough folding chairs to a hotel room but I ignore it.

Daniel launches into it — first the Production Assistant role: coordinating shoot schedules, troubleshooting gear, keeping people caffeinated and alive. Then the Technical Producer one: overseeing multi-cam setups, automating post workflows, optimizing file storage like a digital wizard.

And honestly? It sounds cool. Like, annoyingly cool. Like maybe-a-version-of-me-would-love-this kind of cool. Especially the part where he casually mentions he wrote a script to batch-sync audio and everyone acted like he’d just invented fire.

I’m nodding along before I realise it. And then I stop myself.

“Anyway,” he finishes, “it’s flexible hours, lots of learning, and you basically get to make chaos look clean.”

I cross my arms. “Thanks… but no.”

Daniel blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah. I just… it’s not me.”

It could be me. I know that. But I don’t know if I want it to be. I don’t want to be another one of Will’s orbiting moons. Or George’s little project. Or the girl everyone already made a decision about before I said anything.

Daniel just grins, not taking it personally. “Fair enough. Still — if you change your mind, I’m on Insta and George has my number.”

I give him a tight smile. “Noted.”

xxx

They’ve started filming now — I can hear the laughter and shouting echoing in from the patio. A mix of voices, some familiar, others just noise. From where I’m standing near the monitors, I catch glimpses of them through the sliding glass doors. Everyone’s huddled around the spinning wheel, hyped up and jostling for position like it’s the most important thing in the world.

Will’s out there, tucked into the crowd. He doesn’t say much, at least not from what I can hear. He’s just… present. Not the loudest. Not trying to be. Just a steady presence, like he’s been doing this long enough that he doesn’t need to force anything anymore.

George is there too, off to the side — smiling when the camera hits him, but otherwise a little distant. Same vibe. I guess they’re guests here? Or semi-regulars? I honestly have no clue how any of this works. Who’s in charge, who decides what, who actually makes the magic happen.

I’m not sure if that makes it all more intriguing or more alienating.

There’s a sudden burst of cheering — the wheel lands on something?— and I watch as they all disperse. They all laugh like this is normal. Like this is work.

It’s chaos. But it’s a kind of chaos people seem to belong to.

I wonder what that’s like.

George appears beside me like he always does — suddenly, like a thought I didn’t know I was having. He’s got that stupid lopsided grin on, cheeks a little flushed from the sun or the attention or both.

“Do you want to stay here or tag along?” he asks, already bouncing on his heels. “We’ve got to go find an Indian restaurant.”

I blink at him. “What?”

Before I can string together a proper What the ever loving fuck is your job and who is ‘we’?, he flings an arm around my shoulders and starts guiding me toward the hallway.

“You’ll love it,” he says, like I’ve agreed. “We’re filming a video where other youtubers have picked our meals and we've been given a stupidly hot curry — classic stitched-up content. And I want you there when I can't handle myself. Solidarity.”

“Is that what your career is now? Vague chaos and takeaway?”

He laughs. “Basically.”

We wind through the suite, dodging tripods and energy drink cans, and I feel his arm tighten slightly around me — casual, but possessive in a way that makes butterflies erupt in my stomach.

He's showing me off, like he said he wanted to.

xxx

The next few hours pass in a blur. I trail behind George, Harry, and Tobi (who’s actually lovely) as they lime bike across a busy road, nearly getting clipped by a car. The camera crew stays calm, filming like it’s just another Tuesday. I guess I’m part of the crew now too—following them to a restaurant, watching mic levels, lights, notes being scribbled in frantic shorthand.

When the cameras cut, someone says we can talk, so I do. Small conversations spark with the others—friendly enough, though I’ve forgotten every name already. Someone asks where I’m from. I say Brisbane. They blink like I’ve made it up.

I launch into my usual defence. Third biggest city. Real place, I swear. Somehow, I spiral into a monologue about Brisbane’s doomed attempt at introducing lime bikes, scooters abandoned in the river, helmets bobbing in the current.

I catch myself mid-sentence and cringe. I’ve become that person—rambling about a hometown like I’m desperate to prove it matters.

Later, I’m outside the restaurant, waiting for the next setup. The sound guy’s next to me, launching into a pitch about his job. Apparently, I’d love it. “Tech nerd’s dream,” he says.

I don't really know how to explain that I'm good with code, not like, the hardware. Although I could definitely figure it out.

Whatever this is, it’s strange. Everyone’s so enthusiastic about their roles, their world. And for some reason, they seem determined to pull me into it.

George, or someone, has talked me up way too much.

xxx

We’re back at the hotel now, where the second filming space has been set up. It looks almost identical to the first—cameras, wires, lights scattered in that chaotic-but-controlled way I’m starting to recognize as their trademark. There’s a lull in the action, a waiting game until two other teams return so we can move on.

George tells me this is how the rest of the day will go: filming, waiting, filming again. An endless cycle of motion.

For all the times Will goes on about how hard he works (and look, I know he does), days like this make me wonder if he really knows what hard work feels like. It’s like they’re all just there, floating from one setup to the next, not really doing anything beyond making it look like work.

And yet, I get it. I see why George likes this world—the chaos, the momentum. It suits him. When I look at him now, in his element, I feel so happy for him. I’ve always said I’m glad he ended up doing this instead of whatever he was planning with that sports and exercise science degree.

I try not to look when Will’s team walks back in, all animated over burgers—or something equally irrelevant. There’s a rhythm to them, like they’ve been doing this dance for years.

I spot Daniel, perched in his fold-out chair. He gives me a lazy wave. I drop into the seat next to him, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place I am in this world.

"So, whose your favourite Sideman?" I joke, my voice light as I glance at the frenetic scene around us. Daniel barely looks up from his iPad, just tapping away between glances.

“Josh,” he says, without missing a beat. “His videos have let me travel all over Europe.”

“Huh,” I murmur. “I don’t even know which one that is.”

Daniel huffs a soft laugh, clearly not expecting that answer.

"So, is George your boyfriend?" he asks, a little too casually, as if it’s the simplest question in the world.

I blink, taken aback. We still haven’t really talked about it—George and I, I mean. Not the way we should have, at least. “Yeah,” I answer, keeping my tone neutral. “It’s pretty new though.”

I should probably feel bad, or like, weird about that. About proclaiming a title when we haven't talked about it. But like, come on. I've known the man a million years and we haven't spend a full 24 hours apart since my birthday.

Before Daniel can say anything else, the teams are dispersing again, rushing out the door in a blur. I barely catch sight of George—his girly-ass hoodie a bright flash in the chaos—before he’s already gone.

Oh.

Daniel looks over at me, a glint in his eye. “Come with me,” he says, standing up. “I’m heading out with Josh.”

“Is that by design?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yup,” he grins.

What he doesn’t mention is that Josh’s team is also Will’s team. And Vik’s. But the only one I really care about is Will.

Daniel’s not weird about it. He gives me a smile. I guess he would have no idea what he's just put me in, but also these people all seem really well connected. But then starts chatting with Vik about DJing. Seriously, what are their lives?

I follow them out, trying not to look like I’m not hopelessly lost.

Xxx

We’re on the hunt for a Burger King. I say we, but really, I just did a quick Google search and let someone else take charge. They walk in the wrong direction, and I don’t even bother correcting them. I’m too distracted.

Will’s in the back of the group, making his usual jokes about how many patties can fit on one burger, and I tune him out, just letting the conversation wash over me. We’re walking with purpose, though. Heading toward that fast food salvation that’s a lot further away than it should be. I can hear the talent behind us—loud, laughing, teasing—but I can’t see them. At the front, Daniel’s walking backwards, his camera rolling like he’s done this a million times before. He’s somehow making it look easy.

“Right, so,” Will says, suddenly cutting through the chatter. “I was supposed to go on a date the other day, yeah?”

My stomach does a weird dip. God, why do I feel like this?

For some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that this story is going to go somewhere I don’t want it to. So, I do what I always do—ignore it, move on, keep walking ahead like nothing’s wrong. But my ears are glued to his voice now.

“Fitness lass, met on Hinge, yada yada,” Will continues, completely unaware that I’m spiraling inside.

The boys react with a chorus of “Nice!” and “Cool!” But I can’t focus on that. I’m too busy trying to keep my face neutral, pretending I don’t care about the fact that this girl is not me.

Daniel, still walking backwards with his camera, is completely tuned into Will’s story, capturing every second of this casual banter. It feels like something is building, and I know better than anyone how this goes. Will’s never just telling a random story. There’s always a punchline waiting to hit you when you least expect it.

“So, our first date’s at the gym, right? And I’m waiting around, waiting for this girl…”

Oh, I know where this is going. I feel it in my chest, like my heart knows exactly what’s coming before he even says it. The feeling in my stomach (I refuse to call it jealousy) subsides. This is a setup, a joke.

“It’s like 7 PM, then it’s 7:20, she still hasn’t shown up.” He pauses for effect, letting the words settle.

A soft ‘nooooo’ comes from Vik. Everyone else is hanging on Will’s every word, like it’s the most entertaining thing they’ve heard all day.

But me? I know exactly what’s coming next.

“It gets to 8, and I’m like, fuck it, man…”

“You waited an hour?!” Vik’s voice cracks, somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“Yeah,” Will says, smiling that smirk of his, the one that makes me want to throw something at him, but also kiss him, but mostly throw something at him. “And that’s how I knew we were never gonna work out.”

There it is. The punchline. The bit where I’m supposed to laugh, but instead, I feel like I’ve just been handed a riddle and solved it before anyone else has figured it out.

A blush creeps up my neck and onto my cheeks. It’s stupid, really. But I can’t help it. I’m too aware of the fact that, while I’m stuck here walking with Daniel, trying not to act like an idiot, I can still read William like a book.

I want to roll my eyes and tell him how predictable he is, that I could see that coming a mile away. But I don’t. Instead, I just try to act normal. Like I’m not dying inside, cringing at the insane situation I've gotten myself in. Pretending I'm not walking next someone with a giant camera pointed at a guy who once made me cum three times and then snuck off to play FIFA when he thought I was asleep.

xxx

I don’t really know how it happened, but now we’re in a Burger King, and I’m watching three grown men try to eat a burger with ten burger patties stacked high like a meat skyscraper. I’m standing off to the side, nursing a Coke that’s already gone flat, while I try not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Will cracks some crude joke, the kind that’s only funny because it’s so absurdly blunt, and Josh fires back with a joke about Will being single. I’m half-tempted to chime in with, “He chose to be,” but I don’t. It feels like it would just come off wrong. My humor’s not that sharp, and I’d probably just sound bitter.

But no one can leave well enough alone. There’s the obligatory "your mum" joke, followed by a round of digs at Will’s accent — the whole gang going off, trying to make him squirm. Will’s looking so over it. But honestly? It’s seems like just a part of the rhythm of their friendship.

Then, of course, Will loses an 'odds on', and like a goddamn man on a mission, Josh shoves a bunch of meat into Will's jean pockets. Like, what? This man is literally hiding beef in his pants, and everyone just goes with it like this is a normal Tuesday.

Yeah, sure. He works hard. Whatever that means. I’m starting to wonder if I’m missing some crucial part of this entire... whatever the hell this is.

Daniel’s right there, camera in hand, zooming in on Will’s hands as he folds the flat beef into his pockets like it’s his job. Now he works hard. I snicker to myself, watching him, because this is ridiculous. Yet, somehow, it’s also kind of fun— the weird banter, the camaraderie, the absurdity.

Xxx

We’re walking back to the hotel, the afternoon air just crisp enough to cut through the chaos of the day. My brain is still buzzing from the weirdness of the Burger King fiasco, but it’s quieter now, the kind of quiet that makes everything feel just a little too loud. The crew’s talking behind us, moving in their own world, and I’m stuck somewhere in between.

I’m walking beside Will, trailing behind the group, and the space between us feels... heavy. Like there’s something unsaid, but nothing I can put my finger on. We’re both moving forward, but neither of us is looking at the other. I can hear the chatter ahead of us, but it’s just us in this little bubble of silence.

Will turns to look behind him, and sees me. He slows down, now walking alongside me.

“So,” Will starts, voice softer than I expect, “you and George, huh?”

I don’t know why I’m surprised he’s asking. Of course, he would ask. But it still makes my stomach drop a little. It’s not even that I’m worried what he’ll think. It’s more that I don’t know what I think.

I keep my voice even, trying to sound casual, but I know it’s not fooling anyone — least of all myself. “Yeah.”

Will nods slowly, like he’s digesting the answer, but doesn’t say anything else for a second. I keep walking, trying not to look at him, but my mind is all over the place.

Then, almost as if he’s said it a hundred times before, he mutters, “I’m happy for ya, man.”

The words hit me hard, but not in the way I expect. It’s so... casual. So normal. Like it’s no big deal. Like he’s just handing me some kind of peace offering after everything that’s happened. And my brain immediately goes to, What the fuck?

I can’t help myself. I have to ask. “Really?” The word leaves my mouth before I can stop it.

Will’s hands are jammed deep in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he looks at me. “Yeah,” he says, all nonchalance. “You’re a good fit for him.” His eyes flicker away from me, like maybe he didn’t mean to say it, like he’s trying to make it less personal.

But I don’t buy it.

The thing is — and I can’t shake this thought — he doesn’t get to act like nothing happened. He doesn’t get to just pop back into my life and offer me compliments like he hasn’t straight-up ghosted me for weeks. Like he didn’t leave me hanging, confused and pissed off, wondering if I’d imagined everything we shared.

But then again, I want him to. I miss him and his team, that much is evident. I want to be his mate again.

"I’m happy for you," he says.

The words feel like they’ve been scraped off some script. They don’t sound real. Not in the way I want them to, anyway. Not in the way they should, not when everything between us has been such a mess.

I don’t know what to say back.

What am I supposed to say? Thanks for ghosting me by the way, really appreciate the support?

My chest tightens and I struggle to keep my voice steady, trying to pretend that I’m not caught off guard, that I’m not hurt by the way he’s acting like nothing ever happened. Like he never spent months avoiding me after… after everything.

"Um, yeah. Thanks. It’s going well." My voice is thin, almost too small for the size of the ache in my chest.

Josh calls out to Will, pulling him away for more content, and just like that, he’s off again, that familiar grin plastered on his face, as if I didn’t just feel a thousand emotions all at once.

That smile. That grin. What the hell does he want from me?

I’m stuck in this weird limbo—somewhere between wanting to scream at him for being so damn cold, and wanting to crawl into a hole, pretend I never cared, and go back to being besties. Just us, laughing over a pint like we didn’t spend three months tangled up in each other’s lives.

I watch him walk off, forcing myself to take a breath, feeling like I’ve just been sucker-punched. My heart feels like it's stuck in my throat, a sharp, desperate ache for something I can’t quite name.

And maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s the whole problem—because it’s not even about Will, not really. It’s about George.

It always comes back to George.

But I can’t be mad at Will for being the distraction I needed to forget George. And I can’t be mad at George for finally figuring himself out in time to make us work.

Right now, I need to focus. I need to push everything down, keep it hidden, just like I always do.

But it’s hard. God, it’s hard.

Xxx

My kitchen smells like garlic and olive oil—the kind of comfort food you make when you’re avoiding anything too serious. But with George, it’s hard not to think. He’s constantly touching me—light, casual, steady—and every time, it sends a spark down my spine.

One hand on my back while I chop vegetables, the other resting on my hip as he leans in to scan the stovetop. It’s not overtly possessive. Just... consistent. Lazy, soft, and close enough that I’m always within reach.

And I don’t mind. Not even a little.

“How was your day?” he asks, casual, like he hasn’t spent all evening orbiting around me.

He reaches for the pasta, and I just watch him, wondering how he makes everything feel so easy.

“Josh's group was… interesting,” I say, cutting the carrots a bit too aggressively, trying not to sound annoyed he left me alone with people I didn’t know. “They were a mess. But funny.”

George pauses at the pantry, attention flicking back to me. “You were with Will?”

I don’t look up, just keep slicing. “Yeah, Daniel brought me along with that group. I met Vik too.”

“Oh, cool,” he says, too lightly. “Heard Will got beef on his retainers.”

I let out a short laugh despite myself. “Yeah. He wouldn’t shut up about it. ‘Look at me, I’m a grown man with braces.’”

For a moment, I think George might ask something more. Something real. But he doesn’t. He just stirs the sauce, that soft smile still on his face, like everything’s fine.

His hand brushes my shoulder, lingering. It should feel exciting. Inviting. But I’m suddenly numb to the touch. My head’s somewhere else—caught between Will’s weird non-distance and George’s too-cool charm.

“You were really funny today,” I say, trying to shift the mood.

“Funny, huh?” He grins like he knows exactly where I’m going.

I nod. “Especially when you were all in the bath together.” I laugh. “Oh! And Chris had to eat that Vegemite —I can’t believe I missed that. He must’ve hated it.”

George chuckles, a low sound that makes my chest tighten. He’s still standing too close. Too familiar. It’s all starting to feel too complicated.

“What is it with you and Chris and the Vegemite obsession?” he asks.

I shrug, dropping the knife and turning to face him. “It’s just a thing we do. He mocks me for liking Vegemite, I insist it’s the same as Marmite, then we argue. Truth is—I don’t even like Vegemite.”

His grin softens, eyes lingering just a bit too long. There’s something there. Something real.

“You’re wearing my hoodie,” I say, quieter than I mean to.

“Mm.” He tugs the sleeves over his hands. “I was cold.”

It feels intimate. More than he probably realizes. Something familiar I never imagined on him, no matter how many times I’ve tossed it his way during sleepovers or hangouts.

“So,” George says, and I feel it—the shift. He’s about to dig again. “How’s the job going? Still happy?”

The tension spikes. My mouth goes dry. This again?

“Please,” I say, too sharp, setting the knife down. “Just drop it.”

His brow furrows. “What? Why?”

“I didn’t move to London to join your world, George. I came here to be a good programmer.”

He blinks, confused. “But you’re miserable at your job. I’m just... I’m trying to help.”

I want to snap—tell him he doesn’t get it, that not everyone wants to be pulled into a life that isn’t theirs, just because they can be good at it. But instead, I breathe.

“I never asked for your help,” I say, slow but firm. “Just let me be good at what I do.”

A pause. He drops his gaze, fingers tracing the edge of the countertop.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, almost too quietly, as though the words don’t want to leave his mouth. He looks up at me, his face soft, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to figure out whether he’s truly crossed a line. The apology feels raw — not forced or rehearsed, just genuine. "I just want you to be happy, YN."

I swallow hard, trying to steady the flutter in my chest. He’s standing so close, his presence almost too much to bear, and I can’t tell if it's the apology or the way his hand is lingering in the air between us that's knocking the breath out of me.

The truth is, I am happy. So unbelievably happy. I’ve finally gotten George Clarke to love me. Or at least, to start loving me, in his own way. His constant proximity to me — the little touches, the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention — it all tells me something I’ve been waiting for, something I’m not sure I’m ready to admit to myself. But it feels like he’s on the edge of something. Maybe I’m just hoping it’s more than it is, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m here. With him. And that’s enough to make everything feel right, even when it’s not.

Even with the premiere, and the forced spotlight, I’m happy.

“I am happy,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. There’s no need to explain. He knows. I know he does. The way he looks at me, soft, yet intense — tells me everything.

His lips part slightly, like he wants to say something more, but it’s like the words are stuck behind the emotion. He just looks at me, and for a moment, it feels like the entire room is holding its breath.

I lean in before he can respond, drawn to him in the way I can’t seem to control. I reach up, my hand brushing against his jaw, and that’s it. The smallest shift of his head, the gentle pull of my fingers against his skin, and he’s leaning in. His breath brushes my cheek, and I can smell the basil he's been sneaking on his lips.

When our lips meet, it’s like everything falls into place.

His kiss is slow, tentative at first, like he’s waiting for me to pull away, like he’s not sure if this is the right time. But it doesn’t matter — I pull him in closer, tilting my head just enough to deepen the contact. There’s something almost desperate in the way he lets himself fall into it, like he’s been waiting just as long as I have for this.

It’s soft, gentle, yet the way our mouths move together feels loaded with everything we haven’t said, everything we haven’t figured out yet. His hands find their way to my waist, pulling me even closer, as though he’s afraid to let go. I can feel the heat of his body, the way it aligns with mine perfectly, like we’ve been doing this forever, like we were always meant to be in sync this way.

I slide my fingers into his hair, tugging lightly, and he groans softly, the sound sending a jolt of heat through my veins. The kiss deepens just a fraction, and for a moment, there’s nothing else. No George’s world. No work. No lingering doubts. Just this.

Just us.

xxx

TagList: @meglouise00 @migilini @thankyoulovely @mosviqu @formulaal @jonnybernthalslover @tiredqzl @mrswillne @ravenaz @luvnarthur @capnjosh @ellouisa17

#The Edges Of Us #george clarke #george clarkey #george clarke x reader #george clarkey x reader #george clarke fics #george clarke fluff #george clarke imagine #will lenney #WillNE #willne x reader #willne fic #willne fluff #willne imagine #ukyt #george clarkey angst #willne angst

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icetruckprincess · 2 months ago

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blood & devotion | part two

description: you thought the evening would be harmless—a simple date, a glass of wine. but rudy has a way of leaving an impression, and the night takes an unexpected turn. passion and secrets intertwine, drawing you deeper into rudy's world. unknown to you, darkness lies beneath the surface, and you are left with more questions than answers.

chapter cw: brian moser x f!reader, brian as rudy, drinking, nsfw content, drinking, manipulation, implied violence, canon type violence, mature themes.

wc: 2.9k

part one | part two | part three

you stood before the mirror, adjusting your hair for the third time. your hands were trembling, but it wasn't nerves— it was the anticipation. after days of second-guessing whether this whole date was really a good idea, rudy kept resurfacing your thoughts. brief as your time with him had been, rudy had left a mark that you couldn't shake.

so there you were, swiping on lipstick with careful hands, whispering to yourself that it was just a harmless evening. a glass of wine, nothing dangerous, nothing serious. but deep down you knew it was a lie.

the restaurant rudy chose was dimly it, intimate. the kind of place where people told secrets and fell too quickly into each other’s arms. shadows danced along the wall, stretching tall. jazz murmured from hidden speakers, wrapping around your shoulders like silk.

rudy looked breathtaking under the low lights, his green eyes always catching you with that same intensity that left you breathless at the hospital. he wore a crimson button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms again, revealing his strong wrists and careful hands. he smelled of cedar and musk—warm and dark.

you sipped a dark red wine that tasted like velvet and listened to him talk, his voice low, “well i studied in paris for bit. studied prosthetics, and then ended up here in miami after.”

you blinked, caught off guard, “paris, wow. i’ve never been.”

he smiled, “ it wasn’t just school” he started, mouth tugging into a quiet smile. “i needed distance. there’s peace in being somewhere no one knows your name.”

the way he said it made your skin prickle. distance from what? it was too early to pry, but it didn't mean that you weren't curious.

“or where you came from?” you asked softly.

he nodded, “exactly.”

the space between you two seemed to narrow in the silence, as it always did. the jass hummed low, like a heartbeat underneath the table. his eyes caught yours again, searching, and then dropped briefly to your mouth before lifting back.

“prosthehics... it’s oddly intimate work, “ he murmured, directed to you.

your gaze drifted to his hand as he circled the rim of his glass with a fingertip, slow and deliberate. it was impossible not to watch.

"the mechanics of movement are beautiful,” he continued voice softer now, laced with awe. “tendons, joints,—the architecture of it all. we’re built so precisely, and yet… it’s only when something is missing that we understand the elegance.”

the way he said missing, like it was both a tragedy and a fascination pulled at your heart unexpectedly. tony flashed in your mind—his absence.

and rudy, almost as if he sensed it, reached for your hand.

his palm was warm as it closed over yours, slow and gentle. his thumb began to trace over your skin, like he was smoothing out the ache in you.

you parted your lips gently, startled by the tenderness of the gesture.

“im sorry,” he said, voice low and remorseful. “i shouldnt have, i know—"

“no.” you interrupted quickly, the words tumbling out. you didn’t want to lose the chance where he seemed to be opening up to you. “please keep going.”

he hesitated, his thumb stilling over your hand. you leaned in just slightly, eyes pleading, “i want to hear more. about you.”

his expression shifted—just for a second. a flicker of surprise, or softness. then something darker and deeper passed into a twitch of a smile.

“the body tells a story,” he said, holding your gaze. “sometimes more in it’s absence than in its presence."

your breath caught. you felt pinned in place, not by fear, but by something else. you couldn’t look away, “you make it sound almost… intimate.”

he titled his head, amused, eyes bright. “it is. you spend hours with a single limb. you start to know it in ways it's owner never did. the slope of it. the weight. the things it once could do. it's like learning someone by what they've left behind.”

you stared at him, eyes wide. still holding his gaze, still in his spell.

hushed you replied, “you talk about it like it’s art.”

he smiled wistfully, “sometimes it is.”

his thumb swept over your hands again, just once, before he slowly let it go. you almost reached after him, fingers twitching, but you stopped yourself.

you looked away and breathed out the air you forgotten you were holding. you took another sip from your glass, your lips tremebling slightly.

his eyes didn’t leave you. he was waiting for your reaction. so you obliged.

“youre not what i expected,” you said the words barely louder than the music.

“no?” he asked, lips tugging.

“not at all. i thought you’d be…simpler. someone who talks fast and leaves faster.” you said it with a light laugh, but you meant it. no one ever lingerd like this. looked like this. not at you.

no one connected to you like this. the way he described his job so poetically mimicked the way you felt about drawing.

he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “i guess i disappoint.”

you smirked, feeling heat crawl into your cheeks. “not yet.”

the night stretched on—rich and dangerously. conversation flowed but always with the undercurrent of something unspoken. he listened to you attentively, as if memorizing every detail you shared. his eyes kept returning to your hands when you gestured or to the line of your legs in the candlelight.

and you noticed.

but your instincts—the ones that whispered this was all too perfect, were drowned out now, soothed under the weight of wine and the gravity of him. the way he made you feel seen.

your laugh came easier the more he spoke. your posture softened, you heart beat faster, and it was not just because of the wine.

and so when he asked to take you home, you didn’t hesitate. you said yes.

the ride to your apartment was blur. the air between you both had grown thick with tension, heat and desire. he even walked you to your apartment door. streetlights hummed above you two. a breeze teased your hair across your cheeks.

“thank you," you said as you stopped in front of the door. “i didn't expect to enjoy tonight this much.”

“i did,” he murmured, stepping closer. “from the moment i saw you in the hospital, i knew.”

before you could ask what he meant, his mouth found yours. your back hit the wall gently, as he covered your head so it wouldn't hit the door.

you broke away first, feeling a whirlwind, but whispered, “come inside.”

he followed you in.

your apartment felt different with him in it like the air had shifted. you turned on a lamp by the couch, casting everything in a soft amber light. it wasn’t loud, but quiet, the hum of the city outside was your only witness.

you turned to him, heart in your throat, and found him watching you, like something he couldn’t believe was real.

rudy stepped in close, and you didn’t move away.

he tilted his head, asking for permission without even saying a word. you nodded almost eagerly, jolting when you felt his hand find it’s way to your back.

“you sure?” he asked, voice careful.

“yes” you whispered. no hesitation. just want.

he exhaled, something like surrender. he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to stop him. but you didn’t. you met him halfway.

his mouth was warm and precise. not greedy, nor urgent. he kissed you as if he was trying to understand you—his lips brushing yours softly as first, then deeper. his hands went to your hips, sliding around you with the same devotion he spoke about with prosthetics. as if you were something he needed to know by touch alone.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. you felt his chest against yours, his breath hitching when your lips parted from him. for only a second, as he pulled you back.

his tongue moved with slow control, deliberate like everything else about him. he tasted of wine and something else you couldn't be bothered to think of.

“you’re beautiful,” he said into your neck, his voice so close it sent shivers through your spine.

his hands moved under your shirt, exploring you gently, reverently. you helped him remove it, and he paused to take you in.

his fingers traced over the lined of your ribcage, then over your collarbone, as if mapping you. his eyes were fixed on your body like it was a canvas he studied from afar and now finally had the permission to touch.

you undressed each other slowly, carefully. no rush. no shame. the slow reveal of his skin underneath felt like unwrapping something dangerous and rare. his lean lines of his torso with taut muscle under his tan skin.

but what caught your eye and what stopped your hands as it reached for him, was the tattoo on his upper arm. you couldn't stop looking, it wrapped his arm like a secret that whispered deeper things.

it was simple at first glance: dark ink curling together, wrapping around muscle like it belonged there. but looking closer you saw it was hounds, chasing one another, bound together. you should’ve asked about it, but he kissed you hard before you could even.

when your back hit the bed, you let out a breathless laugh. he followed you down, eyes drinking you in as if you were something holy.

but he didn't rush, he didn't even kiss your lips again. he moved lower.

his lips moved down your neck, to your collarbone, then your chest. he took his time, tracing the curves of your body with his hands and kisses. his mouth was warm, his breath hot. when he reached your stomach, he turned to look up at you.

“you have no idea,” he whispered, his voice like silk, “how perfect you are.”

he kissed the inside of your thigh and you gasped, hips tilting upward on instinct. but he held you down steady, controlled as his hands splayed against your skin as if to ground himself in the feel of you.

and then his mouth was on you.

you cried out, back arching as his tongue moved with deliberate devastating precision. it wasn't just pleasure, it was worship. he licked you up and down, pausing to kiss between each motion, not to tease but to devour you.

“rudy—” you whimpered, hand tangled in his dark curls.

he looked up at you, his pupils wide, lips glistening, and a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“let me make you fall apart in my hands,” he murmured, voice low and tender, "let me take control.”

and you did.

he returend to your clit with relentess attention, refeusing to stop even as your hips jerked and thighs trembled against his shoulder. you came with a broken cry, shuddering underneath him, your chest rising and falling like a storm had passed through you.

he kissed his way back up your belly, ribs, the swell of your breasts. he left a faint trail of breath and drool across your skin.

“i—i want you. please rudy” you whispered.

he hovered above you in the quiet of the bedroom, the city lights casting a soft glow on him— striping his body in shade and gold. your eyes followed the trail of hair that led from his navel downward, and when he let his briefs fall to the floor, you gasped softly.

he was… beautiful. thick and long, resting heavy against his lower stomach, his desire was visible, unashamed. but there was nothing crude about it.

this was the man who touched you like you were art. who spoke of bodied the way poets spoke of marble. who kissed you like each one was a promise.

and now he was offering himself to you. not demanding, simply waiting. watching your face for an answer.

your thighs parted on instinct, your breath hitched.

“please.” you whispered.

and that’s all he needed to hear.

when he entered you, it wasn't with force—it was with care. deep and patient. like he was savoring the moment. a groan caught in his throat and your body stretched around him, full and filled.

he pressed his forehead against yours and in return you wrapped your legs around his waist. every movement was slow and measured. every thrust was like a secret shared in fragments.

“you feel like..” he stared, but couldn’t finish as he moaned.

you kissed him, not needing the words. you felt it too.

there was something electric in the way he looked at you while his cock pushed into you, like he coudln't understand what he was doing, only that he needed it. his hand slid over your cheek, your shoulder, your hip—tracing you again.

he murmured your name unto your skin, like a confession.

his pace quickened and became rougher. he lifted your legs to his shoulders. it hurt a little, but the kind that burned hot, that made you want it more.

“don't stop,” you whispered, “please.”

he continued his pace and he lowered himself down to kiss you like he needed it you breathe. you felt yourself almost coming undone for a second time, wanting it more than ever.

your reached for his hand, and guided it towards your throat. his eyes widened, only for a second, as he understood completely. his fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently and possessively as he pushed deeper, never breaking rhythm.

your eyes fluttered shut.

“no,” he groaned out, voice laced with command, “look at me.”

you opened your eyes immediately and there he was, watching you like you were prey he had chosen. and yet, you didn't feel afraid. you felt like his.

you cried out, begging for more and he obliged.

rudy was in control completely of you, and yet he felt something underneath. your eyes continued to lock with his, and he saw something he hadn’t expected: care. it disarmed him.

you didn’t even know who he was, or what he had done, but looked at him as if he were whole. like he was something worth touching.

your hands reached up, gently touching his jaw, “rudy, please” you whispered on the edge.

he heard it. felt it.

and when you came, it was breaking and real—your body shaking under his, as you dug your nails in his back. which only encouraged him to move faster, aching for a release of his own. he followed after, with a low groan into your neck.

but he didn't let go of you. he stayed there, skin to skin, his breath hot on your throat.

you fell asleep like that. wrapped in his arms, your head ending up on his chest. the beat of his heart echoing under your ear like a note to a song.

brian didn’t sleep.

he lay still, watching you in the hush of the early hours, the city still humming outside the window.

your skin was still warm, breath still soft against his chest. the tension you carried during the night had vanished, melted into the sheets. you were fast asleep. brian stared at the ceiling, jaw tight.

his heart was still beating too fast, but not from exertion, something else. you trusted him. you had looked at him like he was real, like he could be good. gazed at him with your eyes saying he deserved to be touched.

he turned his head slightly, just enough to look at your face in the half light. your lashes lay dark against your cheek, your lips parted. still flushed from earlier, you looked soft, unprotected.

it was perfect. he could kill you right now. it was so easy. you were already his, and you had given yourself.

his fingers hovered above your throat. this was the plan. he always had a plan, and it always ended the same way. he could squeeze the air out of your neck just like he did before, but with more force, watch you struggle to breathe, losing the light out of your eyes. he reached for it, his fingers grazing your neck—but then stopped.

your hand shifted in your sleep, reaching for him instinctively. his hand didn’t move.

his heart stuttered. his chest twisted in a way that didn't make sense- burning and wrong. it was a feeling brian didn't have a word for. but it felt nostalgic and distant.

your breath was steady. the same breath that had gasped his name hours earlier, the same breath that trusted him with the closeness no one else had earned.

he clenched his jaw, trying to avoid whatever this was. he inhaled sharply through his nose and peeled himself away from you. careful not to wake you.

he stood at the edge of your bed, watching you, as he dressed in silence.

he moved towards to couch, sitting in the dark, hands trembling. he had never hesitated before. never once. his eyes lingered on your form under the covers once more, your arm stretched out from where it had reached for him in sleep.

he couldn't kill you, not tonight.

you were too close to knowing him. too close to making him feel like he could be known. and that was dangerous for you. for him.

so he left without a sign. no note, no message. no fingerprint or strand of hair for you to remember him by. he closed the door behind him with the sound of a whisper, and slipped out of your apartment like a shadow.

he would kill from afar, he decided. let the obsession fade. cut the attachment surgically, let it rot like a limb.

but just not tonight. not after the way you looked at him. not after the way you held him.

and not with that indescribable feeling still in his chest—warm and terrible.

a/n: i hope you guys like this one hehe.. im so awkward when it comes to writing intimate scenes lol. also i think this will be more than three parts mehhehe. enjoyyyy!

#icetruckprincessfics #brian moser fic #brian moser x you #brian moser x reader #rudy cooper #rudy cooper x you #rudy cooper x reader #dexter #dexter tv #dexter fic

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kadwrites · 2 years ago

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the shelby charm | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; tommy demonstrates his charm on an unsuspecting girl.

warnings ; idk bad writing? arranged marriage trope, soft!tommy bc hes so babygirl idc,

a/n ; let me know what you guys think! and im so glad you guys are liking this series <3 i genuinely didnt even think id write a second part but here we are ig

"she what?" madeline asks with a gasp , her jaw is dropped.fiona froze mid-sip with her eyes wide open

"i know!" you nod , leaning in closer with your arms resting on the dining table. your eyes are wide, and you're laughing, still in disbelief of what happened.

it was around 8 in the morning, madeline and fiona dropped by early, they were too curious and excited to wait any longer.

celest is pacing around the table, with her 1 year old daughter rose , in her arms as she bounces her, shaking her head as if she can't believe it happened. you already told her the whole story, but she's still somehow taken aback

your parents are still asleep, the house is lit by the warm morning sunlight, the scent of tea and toasted bread wafts around the house.

"she said ya cornered 'er? really?" madeline repeats what you said

"what else did she say to 'im?" fiona asks with a raised brow, she leans in closer as well

"i don't know , he didn't tell me anything besides that" you mutter, taking a bite of your slightly burned toast

"and he drove ya home?" fiona wiggles her brows at you

"aye , he did. because that aunt of his left me stranded in that fucking office."

"she probably did that on purpose." celest adds with a laugh

"of course she fucking did" you say with a sigh

"he insisted on driving ya home aye?" celest teases , she sits on the table with you, bouncing rose on her lap.

"what kind of man would let a defenseless woman walk alone in the dark streets of birmingham" you resent that it made you feel giddy, you really did. it was just a polite gesture, you tell yourself.

"and what did he say to 'er afterwards?" fiona looks at you intently, too invested in the story to tease you.

"so that woman walks in yeah, and she walks straight to 'im. at that point she hadn't even said a word to me. and asks 'im to sign a fucking paper or something" you tuck a strand behind your ear and bringing your chair closer to the table. "and he says oh so y've met my fiancee ?"

at your words, everyone squeals and giggles

"would you shut up? it wasn't like that." you say with a whine, covering your face slightly

"why else would he say that then?"

"to make 'er jealous? i dont know" you furrow your brows, taking another bite of toast

"he did it to let 'er know what 'er place is" celest nods as she speaks, her daughter watches all of you , babbling as if adding to the conversation.

"anyways" you wave a dismissive hand "she said that she did and then he tells 'er that i'll be visiting the office often and he'd like 'er make me feel welcomed when hes not around" you hold back a small smile that threatened to escape you.

it's childish, really. you didn't know the man, hell only a week ago, you hated the sound of his name.

all of them giggle and squeal, again. as if they were school girls

"i bet she cried 'erself to sleep that night" fiona snorts a laugh, sipping her tea

"did you ask 'im if he's sleeping with 'er?" madeline chimes in

"i did, and he said he wasn't" you shrugged, leaning back on the chair

"and do ya believe 'im?" celest asks, not in a mocking or sarcastic way. she's genuinely curious

"i think i do?" you sigh, then lick your lips "he seemed honest enough i guess? he hardly seems like the kind of man that would give two fucks if he hurt my feelings so i doubt he'd lie about it for my sake"

"but isn't he a bit of a whore?" fiona's draw together as she looks at celest then back at you

"he is but what im saying is i don't think there's any reason for 'im to lie, its not like we're in love or anything" you rest your chin on you hand,

"ask polly" celest is still holding her daughter, feeding her small pieces of bread "that woman knows everything" she mutters

"and say what? hello mrs gray, would ya please tell me if your nephew is fucking his secretary?"

before any one else could talk , a knock on the door makes all of you go quiet , you looked at celest and clicked your tongue "ya just had to say 'er name didn't ya?"

alas , when you opened the door it wasn't polly gray's smirk that greeted you , but the icy blue eyes of her nephew.

"thomas" you're almost dumbfounded, your mouth slightly opened, you blink a couple of times.

"y/n."

his voice was slightly deeper than you remember, or maybe it was the trance that made it seem that way.

"what are you doing here?" you tilt your head.

behind you, fiona and madeline are trying to snag a peek, you can hear their muttering but you hope he doesn't

"i would like ya to come by the office today,"

"why?" you stare at him, he's standing on your doorstep, in his suit, coat, and infamous hat.

"there are some things we need to go over."

you then realize that he's been standing on your doorstep, you step back, opening the door "im sorry, come in."

you hear the footsteps of madeline and fiona they scurry up the stairs, celest hides in the kitchen

you walk him back to the living room, and he sits down on the sofa "ya had company over?"

you look back at the dining table, then at him

"sort of."

"who?"

"some friends"

he humms and nods, still looking at you, but that tension is broken when you hear the sound of rose babbling, you look down and shes crawling on the floor.

she probably escaped while celest was too busy eavesdropping

he looks at her as well , "who's baby is this?"

you bend down to pick her up, and she giggles "she's rose, my sisters daughter."

you just smile at her, as she stares back at tommy then back at you, as if asking you who that man is

he stands up, his finger grazes her cheek "she looks a lot like you."

you humm, looking at her "because i look like celest"

"may i?" he asks you as he looks at her

you hesitate, rose is a fussy baby. "she's really fussy."

"i'll give 'er back if she cries."

you let him pick her up, and he just stares back at her for a while before you see his dimples peek through. "i think shes too shocked to even cry" he mumbles

you watch, you're both amused and mesmerized "me and 'er both."

he looks at you "what? i thought ya knew that i 'ave a son."

"i did, but i didn't know you were the baby carrying kind of dad."

"i carry 'im whenever i can."

whenever i can , you forgot how much his work probably takes away. from him and his son.

he's so gentle with her though, as she looks at him inquisitively, curiously grabbing onto his coat. he takes off the hat and drops it on the sofa, so she wouldn't cut herself.

"can you hold 'er while i go change?"

"i think i can manage, just don't be too long"

you hurry and go up the stairs, so she wouldn't notice your absence and cry. and at the top of the stairs, you're greeted with the faces of fiona and madeline as they try to hold back their squeals

"shhhh!!" you put a finger against your lips and push them into your room

they start silently squealing, if there is such a thing "he is such a dish."

"oh my god, oh my god"

"did ya see 'im holding rose? that was such a domestic moment between you two, i bet youre already falling for 'im aye?" fiona is almost vibrating with excitement

"shut up." you mutter as you change your clothes "im tired of this family's surprise visits." you turn to the vanity, fixing your hair, putting on some makeup.

"look at 'er, rushing to look good for 'er fiance" fiona teases

"or maybe it's for that pesky secretary? to show 'er that he's 'yours' ?" madeline wiggles her brows

"when i said that the novel you two read was ruining you, this is what i meant" you mumble as you put your lipstick down, and grabbing a pair of pearl earrings, they'll probably do.

you grab a coat from the closet and walk out ,ignoring the teasing noises of your friends. you hear rose's laugh and you just smile instinctively as you make your way down. when you reach the doorway, you see him throwing her in the air, not too high though just enough to get her to laugh.

"ah i see y've won 'er over." you walk closer, standing before him "so this is the shelby charm , then?"

a soft smile takes over his lips "she's easily impressed."

you reach for her, and he gives her back to you.

"ya can go to the car now, i'll just go put 'er in the crib."

he nods , taking his hat and putting it back on as he walks out of the house.

"you can come out now!" you call for celest and she rushes out of the kitchen and grabs her daughter

"what's with the smile?" she asks you with a knowing look

"what ? can't i smile without you lot thinking im in love with 'im now?" you turn around and walk to the door, putting your shoes on. you didn't even know you were still smiling.

celest just lets out a laugh, as she bounces rose

"say what ya want, i know ya better than ya think i do."

you glare at her before leaving the house and walking to the car, you see him leaning against it before walking and opening the passenger door for you.

you get in the car, and a moment later he does too, and you pray to whoever is looking over you that this car ride won't be awkward.

@tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator , @theshelbyslimited , @illuminwtesz

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfiction #kadwrites

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solarusofsun · 4 months ago

Text

All the Noisettes I've had draw by requests!

LONG POST

Thank you so much to everyone who decide to drop their desings, everyone had an intesting Noisette so I have to draw them all x3

So let's start ✨️

@oscar106official

Ask for some Noisette×Peddito art, ngl this ship is kinda cute, I like it

@the_cosmic_cowbo_y -> Noisette from Colorful Tower

This design is sooo cute, and the little cup is so adorable >w< also they ask me to draw Colorful!Noisette hanging out with Doisette

@simplefanatic -> Noisette from EvilAU!

She's soooo beautiful, Im so in love with this design MI VIEJAAAAAAAAAA 🗣🗣🗣

@creat0rstudi0 -> Noisette from Races Tower, Pizza Maze and Pizza King and Jester Tower

Can I add this desings are so good? I had such a fun time drawing them also I like the concept

@alextydaisuda123 -> Noisette from Dance Tower, Steampunk Tower and Cloud Tower

I cannot express how CUTE are this design, everyone has cute designs why

@opaltones -> Noisette from Voca Tower

Noisette with the Mesmerizer fit? Yes, Im eating that design

@scuttlestheseaslug -> Noisette from BookStoreAU!

Bunny Noisette now is a furry, I love that

@anomal-repos

//warning: blood and body horror

I never post this cuse the person reach me by message, but I gotta say this desing is cool af, idk if this is from an AU! But Im still loving how it turns out ^^ Also you tricked me into drawing the Noise, uh /j

@luigigirl12 -> Noisette from Button Tower, Library Tower and Pizza Tower

THESE DESIGNS, SO ADORABLES also I love the AUs. I'm guessing that the last design is just a redesign since I couldnt find the AU it was from, sorry about that :p

@firfirov -> Noisette from Divine Tower

These are actually two Noisettes, true from and gremlin form. I couldnt decide which one I should draw, so i drew both ^^

@lunar-dal -> Noisette from Wintry Tower, Noir Tower and Pizza Cruise

And we are again with the amazing designs, honestly this in specific makes me fall more in love with Noisette

@golubichkalive -> Noisette from Pizza Stable and Mythical Tower

Im so happy how this desing turns out, Mythical!Noisette's wings looks so good and Stable!Noisette looks soo cute next to the her buddy

@cutechan555 -> Noisette from Summer Camp Tower

Girl yapping while working, lovely design

@sometiredfreak -Noisette and Noise from FreakShow Tower

Another person who tricked me into drawing the Noise, but I dont care, this design is so cool and I like how it turns out

@staurtsregularblog

Ok, this is not a Noisette, but LOOK AT HER, SHES SO CUTE apart from that I also love Doisette, girl needs more love

@neocrash1101 -> Noisette from Pizza Cadres

Yes, this is one of my favorites designs. Idk it just makes me happy ig also love the whole AU

@technically-a-kiwi -> Noisette from CosmicAU!

OMGGSYESS I LOVE THE AU AND I LOVE THIS DESIGN cosmic AU must be one of my favorite PT Aus, plus look how cute she is

@gl1tchy-4rt -> Noisette from GhoulieBoogieAU! And My Singing Pizzeria

Omggg everyone has intresting designsss LOOK AT BOTH THEY ARE SO ADORABLE, Love Monster Noisette

@soybeanidiot -> Noisette from Tower OS

Noisette with long hair, something I didnt know I needed until now

@bigboybird -> Noisette from Failure Tower and All Stars Tower

YESSSS FAILURE!NOISETTE HAS SUCH A GOOD DESIGNN and AllStars!Noisette is sooo adorable gosh

@tv-peppino

This re-design is so cute, i love the headcannon of Noisette having Vitiligo, I mention it before and Im mention it again

@a-sly-dogg

Furry Doisette goat design

THATS ALL THE NOISETTES PLUS OTHER CHARACTERS I'VE DRAWN FOR THE REQUEST POST

Well, thats a lie, I have one design to show :3c

The Noisette from my AU :D

Yeah, this is the first look to the characters from my AU, it is intresting? Probably not but I wanted to show her anyways

Noisette from TheForestAU!

Now yes, I've show all the Noisettes

In total, I've drawn 32 different Noisettes counting alter versions plus 1 Peddito, 2 Doisettes and 2 Noises

God

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ven0moir · 4 months ago

Text

What to expect from Will's arc at the start of S5. ( & how Bychance is a personification of his compound trauma ) v01

bychance part i - introduction bychance part ii - narrative structure

I've talked about before how S4 Willelmike essentially follows The Swan Princess' narrative logic. And what happened to Odette when Rothbart tricked Derek into confessing to "Odile", an Odette in disguise he had created via an enchantment? ( they don't call her Odile in this movie, but that's what she's called in the og Swan Lake play )

( HELP I'm sorry this is so dramatic but yeah )

She almost died until Derek was able to rectify his mistake. Derek specifically saying "I make a vow to break all vows" reminded me immediately of S2. Something something about that script talking about Will looking at Mike throughout.

Something something Vecna has been watching every vow mike breaks and every smile will fakes.

HELP ME WHAT IF MIKE GETS VECNA'D and we think we're getting allll this super complex "realization" sequence but instead Vecna's just legit like

"Wdym? I love El."

HAHRDSOKFOEHW IM CRYINGGGGGGG a funny thought but ( hopefully not ) I hate the idea of Mike's love confession to El being meant for Will. Please don't Mileven 2.0 my Byler, Duffers.

Anyway, I trust them, so I know that won't happen ( squints at them )

Something about Will being forgotten/fading into nothing. Something about Hopper having lost the "spirit to live" .... The Nothing being this force that takes away hopes and dreams ... it's giving birthdaygate. It's giving Will feeling like he's a mistake. Some of this could also apply to Mike ( and I'll ... talk about Mike eventually bc im mustering up the courage. But this is about Will rn )

Now there's only so much I can handle thinking about Will's arc because it's just way too freaking angsty for the payoff to just be "Mike realizes he loves Will and then tells Will he loves him in this super dramatic sequence" as in, again, Mileven 2.0? This already happened in S4, not to mention Will cannot look like a second option. The Duffers aren't perfect, sure, but they're more creative than that. ( I say about the derivative af show lmfao but even that is intention ) So they'll likely do something different.

My first guess is that Will is probably not going to be drawing at the start of S5, just like Mike's love for DMing was suppressed under the weight of his trauma at the end of S1.

In Will's case, the reason is even more specific--it is the medium through which he expressed his love to Mike in S4. And if he's suppressing his love for Mike, then if he does any art at all, his heart won't really be in it/he'd be doing it on autopilot/for Vecna related purposes.

Art is also the way he basically gives himself therapy, so if that's not a thing available to him at the moment, then yeah. My guess is he'll be in a similar position as S1 Joyce after they found Will's dead body and Lonnie showed up.

Joyce ( Will ) had hope that Will ( love ) was alive ( aka there was hope Mike loved him and he wasn't delusional for believing that ).

But the "proof", Will's dead body ( Mike's love confession ) makes it clear.

And when I say 'love' I don't just mean Mike, I mean in general. His hope of finding love at all died in that surfer boy's pizza because the chances ( lmao ) of meeting someone else like him, and bonding with that person, are very low. Hence his belief that he wasn't going to fall in love at the start of S3.

But if, like Joyce, Will still had any hope left, then the lie complicates things. Because chances are, that ...

Mike is going to be mad when he finds out about the lie. And even though Will was right, and El shouldn't have lied, after he'd had time to self-reflect, what was his conclusion?

Just like when Lucas tried to apologize to him in S3.

By the time Will's S5 arc begins, he'd have time to reflect on his painting lie, which he really didn't think through, he just acted on impulse to help Mike when Mike needed him, he's likely thinking;

"Whatever happens, whatever he does next, I'll deserve it."

And what's the worst case scenario in this situation? Mike being mad, and banishing him from the party. Telling Mike the truth would probably only make Mike hate him/be disgusted by him so imho I think Will would literally rather die than tell Mike he loves him.

And how things have gone for him so far, he's expecting the worst. He will be operating on the belief that it's only a matter of time before he experiences the worst trauma ever: officially losing his party, the people who saved him.

So S5 Will's emotional landscape is going to be the equivalent of his S1 self--meaning, Will is going to be trying to survive emotionally now like he tried to survive physically in S1. He'll be doing whatever he could and lived off of whatever water-like substance he could find ( unless the show provides a more supernatural reason for his survival ). So when Chance approaches him I kind of picture it being the emotional equivalent of like ...

And them paralleling Jonnie would kind of bring it home to me that Chance is a personification of Will's compound trauma. Lonnie, to Joyce is something not good/toxic ( Chance is a bully ) but god, she is trying to survive emotionally and needs all the help she can get, AND he is familiar ( Chance reminds Will of Mike, likely. At least at first ). He thinks he's making a choice for himself, but Chance is just using him. It's just an illusion--a lie.

However, the thing with Chance isn't all just another way for Vecna ( metaphorically or directly ) to wear down/exhaust Will--it's also a trial, a test to prepare Will for his final showdown with Vecna and finally Break The Cycle. Being with someone before Mike also gives Will perspective--even if he couldn't be with Mike, Chance is evidence that there *are* other guys like him out there, and he could eventually meet someone given enough time to heal.

This is why I think this storyline IS important for his growth. It offers the opportunity for self-exploration and reconnecting with himself. That way, Byler will feel more deserved. More of a choice rather than Will being Mike's last-minute second option.

I admit this one I'm still mewling over, so if there are any changes I'll post updated versions!

#bychance #byler theory #byler #byler analysis #byler evidence #byler is endgame

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zombaebitez · 5 months ago

Note

I have an idea but if you don't like it you can discard it!

Maybe something like Ellie x reader where reader is a runner?

It's 3am and that's the only idea that came to my mind haha. Love your writing btw.

-🌮

I Love You (Too)

ellie williams x runner reader

synopsis: it went too fast, you got bit; now she’s alone again.

zom’s note: im so glad you like my writing, tysm! since there was no specifics, i wanted to branch out and write smthg angsty, bc why not. i lowkey feel bad… my shayla.

word count: abt 955

warnings: angst, death (ellie shoots reader), just pure sadness not gonna lie.

Love

noun

A deep feeling of adoration and affection. Complex and utterly fucked.

—

God- It wasn’t supposed to make this turn, literally and figuratively. It was supposed to be a simple scout… in a foreign area. Red Flag. It was quiet, Green Flag? No infected, right? Fuck no. A major fucking fuck of fuckest nos. Open street, Green Flag, Houses… Red Green Flag? It all happened way too fast. One minute you and Ellie were walking, chatting quietly, still alert, but not as sharp as you both should be.

First came one, round an abandoned truck. Then came another… then another… that alerted another. Then before you know it, A WHOLE DAMN LOT OF THEM. Two people against what felt like hundreds, constant moving, running, dodging, shooting, stabbing.

A means for survival, you had Ellie’s back, Ellie had yours. Well for the most part… Ellie split from you just for a second? A minute…? Three or seven. It was a frenzy, her mind was running miles. Yours also in a panic until then last infected.

—

She had an arm around you as support, holding your waist with the other. Both covered in grime and blood, that was hopefully not your own. With an effort you both managed to huddle inside a safe house, deemed that way by Ellie’s check through. Green Flag. It's okay, everything was fine.

Until it wasn’t… that’s when Ellie noticed the copious amount of blood near your calf, running down your to your ankle like a fucking river, splitting into streams. Red Flag. Ellie damn near felt her knees buckle, immediately drawing your attention to where she blankly stared. You assured her it was nothing, before turning your leg fully to reveal the ripped fabric of your jeans… a few scratches littering under the rip… then a bite. No that was fucking obvious…

“Oh…” was all you could muster out, before glancing back at Ellie. She stood there, frightened as you tried to console the situation. She was gonna puke.

—

That was almost a week ago. Maybe a week. Ellie couldn't be certain… a few days definitely. You told her you weren’t going to let her see your certain demise. You both knew what was meant to happen. That was days ago, She didn’t let you. She said… she’d do it, so you two can savor each moment left. Red Flag.

‘Ellie, pull the damn trigger’, is what she’d tell herself.

She wouldn’t… not now… not on you.

So here we are, Ellie sitting outside the house you ultimately turned in, because she couldn’t do it. Reminds her of that couple that ran from Jackson some time ago. She understood… well related.

Life was a cruel mistress. The amount of times she held the pistol to you, your cordyceps infected brain not caring, body working on instinct. She knew you were gone… but the moans and cries felt a little too human each time.

She grabbed her journal, scribbling in the worn book, scratching your face… a face that made her feel more sane… especially after Santa Barbara. Or maybe she never was. She felt the same as she did on that goddamned beach.

Broken down, lost without him, or her... Or you. Alone again. No one. Just her mind. Cruel.

Did you feel alone in that head of yours too? Was sitting prisoner in your own body as your last bits of sanity where taken from you by a fucking fungus petrifying? Did Ellie being the last thing you could grasp mentality give you peace… or sadness?

It didn’t bring her peace thinking about it. She found it hard to even think about you without the fear in your eyes, a primal fear that sinks deep into your bones. You unknowingly clawed her down with you once you turned, or maybe it was the other way round. She knew it was fucked up, keeping you here… she knew it was wrong. It was selfish. You aren’t even you anymore, yet she still holds onto the thought of you. It's twisted. It’s sick… it’s the second time this has happened. One time too many. Melancholic.

She tossed the journal down next to her; thinking was too much. She couldn’t, her hands shook, her body trembled. In, out. Inhale, exhale, she reminded herself.

Standing, Ellie looked at the house behind her. Quiet… Red Flag. She wanted to hug you, play ignorant to the fact you got bitten…

She went inside, your reaction is always immediate and hostile. Could there be guilt lying somewhere in your brain…? Maybe she was personifying you too much, you weren’t human anymore. She watched you attempt and attempt to reach her, bound by some old rope she found in the garage of this stupid house. Inhale, Exhale. She grabbed her handgun, trying to tune out your screams and snarls, struggling.

She adored you, she tried to hold on to what she had of you… she couldn’t. Red Flag. All she could grasp is your last words, before the day your mind wasn’t yours. The sobbing, and the denial.

“Ellie, you know meeting you was amazing…

She steadied her hand.

…I wish we could have had more time together, you’re so so special to me…

Ellie aimed towards… the runner? you.

… don’t worry too much, and please don’t lose yourself…

Ellie fired ???

… I Love You, Ellie.”

—

She slung her backpack on her shoulders, walking outside. Her movements— mechanical. Ellie crumpled, she sobbed. Alone, scared, tired. Her own type of infection clawed through her body. One that didn’t kill her, not physically. Dissociated… it all went too fast, yet too slow, like trudging through tar.

Ellie took a deep breath, shaken up and ragged.

“I Love You Too.”

#🌮#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams the last of us #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x masc reader #ellie x fem reader #tlou #the last of us #lesbian #wlw #angst

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paiges-1vur · 1 year ago

Text

welcome to the party pt. 3… and as always enjoy loves <3

Friday 12 am

I draw in a sharp breath. I’m still very much drunk but i can tell paige has sobered up. I shift my position in between her legs trying to find comfort, but ultimately just creating friction. she leans down to my ear.

“ana.” i can feel her breathing next to my ear and its giving me the chills.

“mmhm” i sigh in response.

“dont move.” i turn my head around, confused as she says this. “dont worry baby im going to take care of you tonight.”

I feel her long slim fingers stroking my upper thigh and have to bite my lip to stop myself from making any noise. She kept doing this for another five minutes before leaning back down to my ear.

“let me take you back to my place, its to crowded in here”

“are you sure?” I ask. I dont want to be the reason she wants to go home before everyone else.

she smirks looking me in the eyes. “Unless you want everyone to see me eat you like my last meal and hear you scream my name, yes i’m sure.”

I blush and look down before she grabs me by the hand and clears her throat.

“i’m going to take ana home. she’s really tired and needs to be up early tomorrow.” (that was a lie and she knew that)

the girls turn and look at her. They all exchange looks with each other before giggling.

“I might as well sleep over at Azzi’s tonight,” Nika says winking, “but please dont be too loud, i need to sleep too.” I forgot Nika and Paige share a dorm, but i’m too drunk to care about the consequences of tonight.

Paige punches Nika in the arm telling her to shutup before saying goodbye to the other girls and walking me outside to call us an uber.

—————————

as soon as i stumble through the door of paiges apartment she grabs my shoulders, flipping me around and pinning me against the door behind me. Her right hand is on the door next to my head, and the other is tucking my hair behind my ear.

im not aware of anything im saying right now but what i am aware of is how much i need her. “paige,” i whine like a child. “pleaseee.”

she looks me in the eyes. her ice blue eyes stare into mine and her gaze makes me blush. Before i have enough time to say anything else her lips are crashing into mine. her hands find my hair around the back of my neck and she gently tugs at it. i can tell that shes impatient.

“jump.” she says grabbing my legs. i put my hands on her shoulders and jump as i straddle her front and she carries me towards her bed. i lean my head back and giggle as we walk, letting my hair flow down my back.

paige lies me down on her bed before crawling on top of me. she starts by placing hungry kisses all over my jaw and down my neck. i try my best not to moan at this while she bites and teases my sensitive skin, leaving dark marks that will last for days. While her mouth is on my neck, her hands are roaming my body, holding me in all the right places.

Paige looks up at me to see my head thrown back. She smirks, “Don’t hold back baby, i want to hear you beg for me to fuck you”

I release my lip from in between my teeth, as she gets back to work biting and kissing my skin. she has moved down to my collarbone bone and chest, and her hands are grazing over my sensitive nipples through my top. i whine at the sensitivity and she stops for a second. her hands move to start taking my shirt off, unclipping it from the front.

As she peels it off and throws it to the floor she exhales loudly.

“Holy shit Ana.” she comes up to my face. Leaning into my ear she says, “Your such a bad girl, not wearing anything under your top. Did you do that on purpose?” she pauses before asking, “Do you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are?”

I nod, not being able to look her in the eyes. She grabs my chin and forces me to look at her face.

“I need to hear your fucking voice.” She says aggressively.

“Please paige!” I whine.

“Please what?” she taunts.

“Please fuck me!” I scream impatiently, feeling a mix of pleasure and irritation.

“I dont know,” she trails off, “your being kind of… bratty.” She stops to think to herself “Now i can fix that, but your going to have to listen to me and do as i say.”

“Okay. i understand.” I respond melting right under her.

she flashes me a smile that gives me chills. “Good. Now open your mouth.”

I don’t ask questions, and open my mouth waiting to see what she does. she leans down and spits into my mouth, her saliva coating my tongue. She reaches her hand up and brings it to my mouth.

“suck.” she commands.

I close my lips around her fingers and take them in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around them fully coating their full length in a mixture of her saliva and mine. Before taking her fingers out of my mouth the pushes them down my throat even farther, making me gag. My eyes water and i choke and cough on her fingers.

Seeing her on top of me, face weighted with pleasure made me even wetter then i was before.

She moves down my body and finds herself in between my legs. she takes her knee and spreads them open even more. My skirt gets in the way, and in response Paige rips it off of me with her bare hands.

“Ill buy you a new one,” she says carelessly when she sees i’m upset its on the floor in shreds. “One that doesnt show your whole fucking ass.” her tone changes, and she begins yelling at me. “All the guys were staring at your ass tonight, and i wanted to punch them in the face for even laying their eyes on you.” She gets angry and rips my underwear off, the same way as the skirt. She throws the small shreds of fabric to the floor before diving in between my legs.

She kisses up and down my inner thighs and i moan as her lips move closer to where i ache for her the most. She sits up and spits on my already dripping pussy.

“Paige” I moan out as i feel her saliva lubricate my core. I’m already dripping all over the sheets, anticipating her touch. She licks up my folds making my eyes roll back. I cant help but moan her name as she continues to roll her tongue up to my clit, sucking it in between her teeth.

"Paige!" I scream out again, the sound being borderline pornographic. Im done being patient. "Fuck.. please baby!"

My brain goes fuzzy as i feel her tongue dipping in and out of me, her wet fingers focused on my clit that aches from overstimulation. I cant think straight and Im seeing stars, so overwhelmed with pleasure. she watches me fall apart slowly under her touch.

"Oh my God... im so close baby, please let me have it" I beg through tear stained eyes, my hands glued to the sheets, gripping them until my knuckles turn white.

My legs start to shake uncontrollably, and right before im about to fall apart all over her perfect face i feel her mouth detach from under me.

"What the fuck Pai-" She looks up at me with dark eyes, pupils dilated, looking at me as if i was her last meal. A shiver runs down my spine because the longer she looks at me, the more i feel like her prey. Her face glistens with my juices as she flashes me a grin, so secretive it makes my stomach churn.

She looks over my body taking taking a shakey breath before wiping her chin with the back of her hand and licking her lips. She crawls up the whole length of my body not breaking eye contact once. Fucking me with her eyes, before tilting her head to the side and leaning into my ear.

"Do you want to play a game?" she whispers into the shell of my ear. Fuck. I cant take this anymore and my eyes start to well up with more tears.

My breathing increases, my chest heaving up and down as she moves her lips closer to my ear.

"I promise i can make you feel good baby." she pleads. with all the air i have left i inhale sharply. "thats all i want need. to hear you screaming for me." shes still in my ear, floating just above the most sensitive spot on my neck, that burns for the touch of her lips.

"Mhm" I finally manage to mutter out a response in approval to her request, finally finding air to breathe in her small room, that seems to disappear when shes on top of me. I can practically feel her lips curl into a devilish smirk. She knows she won, and now she gets to have her cake and eat it too.

Sorry for not posting these past couple of days guys. School is now over and i promise i will start posting (and maybe writing?) more. Im so so sorry to leave u hanging on a cliffhanger, but i felt like the chapter was getting too long. Let me know if y’all liked this chapter because there will most likely be a part 4.

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