#[I did take some liberties! I hope this is okay!]

[averlym]

litany of the martyrs (click for better resolution!)

[mirrortouchedsea]

dark. that was all he had ever known. cold, dark, damp. the boy shivers in the small room, painfully alone, only a book and his magic to keep him company. he tries not to use his magic very often, though. it seemed that the people above knew when he used it and they always always always refused to give him food until he “woke up” next, if they bothered to keep track of that. maybe this time he’ll learn their lesson. the boy whispers his spell, cur memini, and creates a small light in his fingers. this is the only spell he can cast safely, too small to be noticeable by the people above. he holds his hand over the fading book on the floor. the boy can’t read the letters on the page, but this book has pictures. he flips through it again, careful of the pages that were falling apart, admiring the figure in armor who always comes to rescue the figure in the tower, cut off from the world, just like him. the boy frequently dreams of a figure in armor coming to save him, despite the years he has spent alone. dark and cold and damp. 

the room the boy lives in, the only room he has memories of, is empty besides himself and the book. sometimes the people above would give him water and stale bread to eat, and then there was a cup and a dirty plate, but otherwise it was just the boy and the book. the boy knows why the people above have locked him away, they told him that he was a freak of nature, unnatural, dangerous. but the boy could only make lights in his palm, and that wasn’t very dangerous at all. he thinks to himself that the people above are the dangerous ones, locking away a child for something like this, but he can’t say that out loud. he doesn’t want to die again. 

the boy’s stomach grumbles and he curls in on himself, the light in his palm fades out. he longs to see the sun again, to play with the other children he can hear through the ceiling, to be normal. the people above must have decided to punish him again, though, as he doesn’t remember the last time he had anything to drink, to eat. his stomach would eat through his skin and he would still wake up the next day. why can’t he just die once and for all and be rid of the pain? why is the world keeping him here? why was he even born?

the boy closes his eyes, and falls asleep. maybe this time it won’t hurt so much. 

--- 

how long has he been here? the boy doesn’t keep track of time. he knows he’s died at least a dozen times, but how long does it take for a dozen lifetimes to pass? 

--- 

a clattering on the floor wakes the boy up. the people above decided he can eat today. stale bread and water again, but better than nothing to the boy. he crawls closer to it, listening to the door. it closes and the voices disappear. where was the sound of the lock? did they forget? 

the boy scarfs down his food and water before tiptoeing up the stairs. he doesn’t hear any voices, but he needs to be careful. he doesn’t remember what the above looks like, but he needs to leave. he needs to be free. 

slowly, quietly, he opens the door. it’s dark on the other side of it, but still much, much brighter than his room ever was. he closes his eyes but keeps the door open. breathe in, and out. opens his eyes again, blinking the brightness away. pushes the door further open. steps on the hard ground outside the door. he’s so close. closes the door quietly. turns around and holds his breath. where was outside? pick a direction and go. his legs hurt. turn the corner, listen for voices. voices are dangerous, get away from the voices. whisper his spell, create a small light. keep moving keep moving keep moving. window ahead. break it? open it? is he strong enough? lift the window up. too weak. voices coming. hurry hurry hurry must get out now. whisper spell again, hand on window. break the glass and jump through it. cuts on feet cuts on legs deal with that later. voices getting louder voices shouting. run run RUN. 

the boy runs away from the building, away from his room. freedom is so close. first get to the trees, then… he hasn’t thought that far, but he will find a way. gunshots from the house. he runs faster, must get to the trees, must hide, must be free. cur memini, he whispers again, crossing into the forest. his spell can make lights and now break windows, but he needs it to protect him at this moment. run run run until the voices are quiet again. his legs are giving out, but he needs to run. he can’t die now or they’ll find him. keep running. bare feet on sticks and stones and sharp things, everything hurts but he can’t stop. he keeps running until the sun comes up. his heart beats out of his chest. 

--- 

when he wakes up he doesn’t know how much time has passed. his heart beats fast and he sits up. did they find him? he looks around. trees, rocks, a gurgling stream. he’s free. he’s free. he sighs and lays back down. how far did he run? he needs to go further. away from other people, away from anyone who might lock him up again. he sits up again and forces himself to stand and walk towards the sound of the stream. he can start there. water is important, and he might be able to get food from the little stream too. 

his first drink of the stream water is icy cold, quenching his lifelong thirst in just a few swallows. he washes his face with it, removing years of sweat and grime. he wants to sit by the stream forever if only he could, but the people will find him eventually if he doesn’t keep moving. but he allows himself a few minutes to bathe in the water, savoring the feeling of water on his skin. his stomach still growls, wanting something more filling than the freezing water of the stream, but that would have to wait. he needs to get his bearings. 

the light of the outside world is almost blinding, he realizes. the sun and the snow made it almost impossible to see anything. he should get up above the trees. can he even do that? cur memini, he says, trying to get his voice to be louder than a whisper. his feet float a few inches above the ground. he closes his eyes and says his spell again with more conviction. Cur Memini. he feels himself shooting into the air before he opens his eyes. he can see the forest stretch out for miles around him. trees covered in snow in every direction. if the old house is behind him, he should fly straight ahead, towards the forests on the mountains. tentatively, he leans forward and focuses his magic on keeping himself afloat. 

it doesn’t take much to exhaust what little magic he has, but he’s put more distance between himself and the old house and the people above now. he should be safe to rest, truly rest. but first he should find something to eat. is there anything to eat out here? something in his head tells him to look a little closer to the ground. to his left. there’s a bush full of berries. he’s never had anything but stale bread, and doesn’t know what to expect as he crushes one with his teeth. 

the sensation overtakes him for a brief moment. the berry is sweet, yet tart, and delicious. it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten and he thanks the little voice in his head for the information as he picks several more berries from the bush. the juice runs down his chin and makes him sticky, but it feels good. he feels truly alive for the first time. 

once he’s finished picking the bush clean of its fruits, he needs to find a place to rest, to stay warm. he’s shivering in the intense cold of the north, but it’s nothing he isn’t used to. the room was never very warm after all. he listens to the little voices calling out to him, guiding him towards a small cave, instructing him on how to make a small fire to warm himself up. a small rabbit brushes against his leg and he swears one of the voices is coming from it. and with the fire going, he thanks the rabbit before it hops away back into the snow. he would be roasting that same rabbit over the fire a few months later. 

the boy can’t stay in the cave forever though. as days turn to weeks turn to months, he worries that the people above are getting closer to him. they’ll put him back in that cold, dark, damp room again. he needs to keep moving. he has been practicing his magic, casting stronger spells, and he needs to be ready to fly. it's been long enough. cur memini he says holding his hand out. a rough stick with twigs tied to the end flies into his hand. it’s a poor excuse for what he understands is a broom, but it will work. he climbs onto it and focuses. cur memini cur memini cur memini. he lifts off the ground and watches as the branches of the trees get shorter and eventually he passes above the treetops. 

he takes a moment to gather his bearings. he no longer remembers the direction the house was in, but going up is his best bet of staying away from the people above. he laughs, realizing that he is the one above them now. after a moment, he flies into the mountains. the small voices change into bigger, unfamiliar ones as he gets further into the mountain range. they tell him to hide, to stay away. he doesn’t listen. they cannot be more dangerous than the humans he is running from. 

the boy lands, still exhausted from using so much magic, but he was able to travel further this time. that has to count for something, surely. he gathers some sticks and looks for another cave to make his home in. the caves remind him too much of the room he left, so he chooses to stay close to the entrance, close to the light that reminds him he is free. the fire keeps the animals away, but the voices are curious about the new presence in their woods. they make him curious too. he should stay in the cave tonight though and regain his energy. maybe he can get some small game to fill his stomach before settling in for the night. he listens for a rabbit’s voice, or maybe a squirrel, anything that would be small enough to kill with his hands. 

at last, a small fox’s voice is heard nearby. he wonders if fox will taste different from the other game he’s eaten thus far. he lifts a hand-sized rock and slinks out of the cave towards the voice. it takes a few minutes to find the source, but the fox is curled under a tree, shivering, hungry, just like him. the boy hesitates before bludgeoning it and slinging the corpse over his shoulders. there are more foxes. he is much more important. 

the fox is only the first animal he hunts in those mountainous woods. he spends several years in that forest and eventually humans settle up there as well. the boy, or rather, the man now, has made a name for himself amongst the human populations of the north. he is no longer afraid of humans capturing him and locking him up. they are still terrified of him, but now he is in control of that terror. the hunters that left his territory alive whispered tales of the great wizard owen who inhabited the mountains and terrorized anyone who had the bad luck of running into him. 

all of this is perfectly fine with owen. eventually his reputation will grow beyond himself, encapsulating atrocities that were impossible for even someone as strong as oz to commit, but that would be a problem for future owen. for now, he is still young and living in his cave on the outskirts of a small village and scaring hunters who stray too far from their boundaries. the wolves don’t like these visitors either and gladly listen to owen’s lamentations. it keeps his hands clean of the bloodshed if he isn’t casting the spell himself. the wolves don’t care for owen either, but they respect him. and that is enough for owen. 

the first of the unwanted visitors was a young man, someone who wanted to provide for his family. he pleaded with owen and the wolves to let him go and he wouldn’t cause any problems. those pleas fell on deaf ears though as owen looked the man in the eyes. won’t your family be disappointed, he asked almost innocently, you don’t have anything to show for your efforts. the man stammered a response, they’d rather i come back alive with nothing than die trying to find food. is that so, owen reached out for the man’s chin, the distance between their faces was almost nothing. y-yes, sir, please just let me go and i won’t bother you anymore. owen grinned. oh i’m sure you won’t be causing us any trouble again. the wolves stalked out of the woods, drooling at the prospect of tearing a piece of that man for themselves. owen snapped his fingers, and they came running forward, only to stop mere inches from the now trembling man. there was a suspicious yellow stain in the snow beneath him. p-p-please sir, anything you ask, it’s yours! then make sure you tell the rest of your little village that this forest belongs to the great wizard owen. the man ran off, leaving behind a hunting rifle and a ratty sack. the rifle would be of use, but the sack became tinder for his fires. 

despite the warning from that first man, hunters continued to enter into owen’s territory. and one after the other, they ran off screaming with their tails between their legs. this should have annoyed owen, that people would ignore all of the warnings and stories that had started popping up about him, but it doesn’t. their fear feeds into his magic power, only making him stronger, and that is all fine with owen. he is no longer a weak child locked in the damp, dark basement, and he never will be again. 

[voidtouched-blue]

Semi-plotted starter for @alexissero

The continent had been dangerously balanced on the brink of war. Only five years since the calamity that befell Carteneau, and the Garleans had once again began to pressure the city-states under their Imperial boot. It had taken some convincing to bring the healer into their ranks, but the Scions certainly had their own way of proving their need for her talents. Normally, she wouldn't have hesitated to assist, but there was a fear that commanded her choice in the matter. One she had been ashamed to admit to the organization. So it was with great confusion, and contrasting emotions that the Keeper accepted the request from Y'shtola.

"We have not the manpower to spare, nor a true White Mage on hand to ensure his safety. You've proven yourself more than a capable battle-ready mage, so it is of no question that your talents are more suited for this task", she had been clear with her intentions from the start. Though her talents in conjury had been nothing to sniff at, Y'shtola had a far more diverse arsenal of magic at her disposal than Cyra. When she asked why the Sun Seeker hadn't elected to accompany Alexis, the Miqo'te's eyes narrowed with her grin.

"I should warn you," the Keeper remembered how the woman crossed her arms and tapped her nails in irritation on her sleeve. "His careless tendencies to throw himself into the fray with little regard for his health may frustrate you. You would do well to keep that in mind. Your talents far exceed mine own, and offer a higher margin of success. Please, go with care."

Cyra couldn't argue with that.

To a woman of her talents, the Moon Keeper had great respect for Y'shtola's magick capabilities. For her to suggest that she was more well suited for the task came as a surprise. It's true that she was able to complete her studies in Conjury and even excel in her practice as a White Mage, but offensive magic had not yet become part of her arsenal. Surely, being able to provide a more destructive force to the battlefield was a higher priority than bringing along a healer? Yet, when she tried to question the Scion again, her words had been met with a sharp stare of emerald silence. It was almost as if the Conjuror had known that keeping firm and making her request into a demand would be what ceased Cyra's prying and send her on her way.

Though their conversation was brief and to the point, Y'shtola left her with plenty of questions to plague her mind about her new charge. The anticipation of such a strong warrior needing a more learned mage to provide protection and support felt quite comical. Though, if what the Seeker said was true, then perhaps the man was as reckless as she assumed. Such brash and thoughtless behavior would not be tolerated by any means in her presence. Regardless of that curious warning, Cyra would need to treat this with the same importance as any job. Despite her unease with the nature of their mission, she would need to keep herself together.

Night quickly passed into morning, and with the rising sun of the new day, the miqo'te had arrived with her pack secured over each shoulder.

"Ser Sero?" She called out. Unsure of how to greet a man she hadn't formally met, the Keeper thumbed over the wood of her staff to calm her nerves. It wasn't every day that one met a rather renowned hero of the realm, much less being given the opportunity to aid them. "Y'shtola had requested for me to aid you on your mission, if you're ready we should depart quickly lest we waste daylight."

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend—

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts—and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals—for more than you’d care to admit—to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give–pay–for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man—what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man himself—or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic— the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker—then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez—huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This—this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this—this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning—or until your battery dies, whichever comes first—you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

-

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

A fair payment [W. W.]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

People who might be interested: @strugglingwriterwattpad @cattail5 [Timothée masterlist]

some minor Wonka spoilers I guess! If you like it, tell me in the comments, that will make me happy :)

“Can you mend it?” Willy asked, carefully holding his emerald green jacket that had the sleeve seam torn.

The boy had arrived a couple of weeks ago to turn the world of everyone present in the laundry upside down and, honestly, you were already beginning to enjoy his presence. You looked in the background at the blackboard that Noodle used at night to give him lessons in the hope that he would learn to read because, according to the girl's words, because of that he was almost eaten by a tiger. But in the man's words, what was important was the almost part. 

However, tonight he had asked you especially to go to his room, because he had a problem that he thought only you could solve.

“I think so, I just have to pass the needle a couple of times” you smiled.

Since your arrival Mrs. Scrubbit had used your sewing skills for her own benefit, because after all you had ended up in that mess trying to save a little to be able to buy the necessary materials to make a pretty dress that would be worth enough to advance in the business. Although, obviously, that had not been possible.

"Thank you! I'm afraid that's my only jacket."

“It will be ready in no time. I’ll just go to my room and come back, okay?” you said kindly, placing the garment in the boy's lap and earning a sweet smile from the aforementioned.

Just as Willy had his little briefcase for his chocolates, you had your own, full of threads, needles, and buttons, which you just had to grab from the floor to get everything you needed. When you arrived back you settled at the little table and he remained attentive to your every movement, pulling out a chair so he could observe what you were about to do.

“There was a boy on the ship who helped me with these things,” he began to tell you, keeping his curious nose on your shoulder “But I never thought about learning. You know, for when I had to be alone”

“Well, it's lucky you ended up here. We are a curious collection of workers,” you murmured ironically, referring to all the people gathered there against their will by the work of fate "What did you do on the ship?"

"Cook. Mostly sweet things, but I also know a couple of useful non-chocolate-related recipes. I was the chef,” he said, and you laughed at the exaggerated way he pronounced the last bit.

Willy began to tell you about some of the adventures he had had on the high seas and you listened attentively as the tip of the needle went in and out to join the fabric. It only took a few minutes to get his clothes looking like new, taking the liberty of repairing other places that also needed it.

“Put it on,” you asked, trying not to look at him too much when he did so or pay attention to the way the jacket fit him perfectly.

"It is perfect! You can't even tell it was torn, huh?” he said with emotion, feeling with his hands as much as he could. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

“I insist,” the man murmured. His curly hair bounced across his cheeks as he sat next to you and he lifted his small briefcase off the floor, opening it to reveal all the little bottles of ingredients. “Your talent for mine. It's a fair exchange."

You had to admit that the chocolates you had eaten were a complete delicacy, but a part of you didn't want to get used to that luxury or you knew that when Willy was gone you would miss his sweetness. In the literal and figurative sense.

Locked in that laundry it was impossible to meet many people your age and Noodle was your greatest company, as if he were a little sister to you. But now that he was there, there was a certain happiness in chatting with him, much more now that his ingenious mind had devised a way to get you out of there even if it was just for a few hours to see the light of day and get coins from the sale of the chocolates to free you of the enormous debt to Mrs. Scrubbit.

“What flavor do you want to try today? Do you want me to add some unicorn skin glitter? Rays of sunlight from a twilight on the seashore? Tears of an African crocodile?”

“Just give me something you think I need,” you replied softly.

Willy thought about it for a moment, because it wasn't the kind of answer he would have expected. What was he supposed to give you that night? A little hope? Happiness? Nostalgia? It was difficult to decide.

Through his bright eyes you watched him reflect and just a second later his hands began to work. You noticed there was a hint of mischief in his smile as he poured milk, chocolate, and the contents of a couple of jars into the processor, glancing at you from the corner of his eye from time to time.

“What are you going to do when we get out of here?” he asked suddenly, not neglecting the tasks.

“Working in a sewing workshop, I guess.”

“Why don't you open your own fashion house?” Willy suggested carefreely, as if it were a very easy thing to do, “You are a great dressmaker.”

“And you are a great dreamer”

“It's my best quality,” he exclaimed, almost offended. You waited a moment before answering.

“I just don't think it's that simple. It requires effort, time, and a lot of money…”

“We will have everything,” he interrupted you, with that optimism that characterized him. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and one of his hands traveled to take yours. “When I open my factory, we will all be able to fulfill our dreams. And you are going to have a fashion house, I promise you.”

“You make a lot of promises,” you responded, blushing.

“And he planned to fulfill them all. I always do it"

Maybe there was something about the softness of his grip on your hand or perhaps the sparkle in his eyes that made you look away out of sheer nervousness. He seemed to be good and innocent, to the point that he probably didn't even realize how close he was to you or how inappropriate the position would be if Noodle ever walked in.

A tap interrupted your moment and then he abruptly pulled away, excited to show you the product he had just made. It was a pretty circular candy that was bright pink and seemed to be emanating smoke from the inside.

"What's that?"

“You'll have to try it to find out,” he murmured, as he extended the treat in your direction.

You had to admit that you were somewhat curious to discover what the man was offering you, so you took it between your fingers carefully, and even under his watchful gaze you took a bite.

At first it tasted like ordinary chocolate, but then it took on a strange tone, which made you feel a certain warmth in your chest that spread to your cheeks. It was a most pleasant feeling, like bubbly joy combined with the embarrassment of a hug.

You thought for a moment about what flavor that could be, without any success, until after a few seconds you realized that it wasn’t a flavor in itself, but a feeling, an experience... Was it love that Willy had given you?

“How does it taste?”

“Yummy,” you responded, covering your mouth so he wouldn’t see the wet chocolate on your tongue, but also to hide your smile “Delicious, actually. What does it contain?”

“A special and secret ingredient”

"Oh, come on! Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“I just want to know if I got it right,” he murmured and you frowned slightly, not understanding him “About what you asked for. Did I give you something you needed?”

You had to bite your lip to keep from smiling again, your cheeks feeling hot from the simple fact that he was looking at you. You thought that this could even be a love potion that you had consumed without thinking about it, just because he was the one who was offering it to you.

“We could say yes”

“We're even, then,” he exclaimed as he waved the sleeve of his jacket and you nodded in amusement, eating the rest of the chocolate he had made for you.

A yawn leaving your lips made you aware of how exhausted you were and although you didn't love the idea, you knew it was time to leave.

“It's late, I should go to sleep before we wake anyone up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Willy said quickly, getting up from his seat to accompany you to the exit. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Rest,” you said kindly, and, gathering courage, you leaned forward a little to say goodbye with a hug that he gladly returned.

As you walked down the hall to your shabby, damp room, you thought that it probably wouldn't have even taken a love potion to fall for the charms of the pleasant chocolatier. You just needed one of his smiles.

[chrattho1]

matt sturniolo blurb

craving

warnings: titty sucking,dry humping,sub!matt,clingy!matt (?) ,coming in pants,mentions of pussy eating idk,established relationship

inspired by this ask

matt doesn’t know what to do,doesn’t know if he should wake you up from your precious sleep so he can relieve himself of the agony he is in right now by just watching you sleep,or if he should go to the bathroom,rub one out and call it a night.

matt watches you move in your sleep,your tits pressed between your arms-almost falling off your silk shirt. he can clearly see your nipples trace outside the shirt,wanting nothing but to feel them-you see his hard on is not the only thing he wants to get rid off,he wants to feel you more than anything right now.

“baby?” matt spoke in his soft yet hoarse voice,trying to see if you will wake up to help him in some way.

“mhm” all it took was for him to call you out once before you responded in your sleep,eyes still closed shut.

“i need you—however-just help me please?” matt brings his hand to rest on yours,slightly shaking it to wake you.

you open your eyes,kind of,to look at his state-he is laid beside you,his eyes begging for something. his brows knitted in worry of your response.

“what do you want baby?” you spoke making him release a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in,matt’s hand that was rested on top of yours slowly but desperately reaches under your shirt,rubbing circles on your smooth skin,hoping you’d get the idea.

you scoot closer to him,encouraging him to do whatever it is that he wants. and he immediately drops his head down in your neck,laying hasten and desperate kisses everywhere,all over your neck down to your cleavage and back up again on your face-cheeks,nose,lips-just everywhere.

a small chuckle leaves your mouth,seeing him like this and he stops what he is doing,looks at you for a second before his cheeks start reddening,and a small smile on his face before he drops his head into the crook of your neck-he is embarrassed.

“aw baby its okay come here” you pull him closer,draping your legs over his,one of your legs between both of his thighs and one wrapped over his legs. you can feel his dick rubbing up against you.

matt is too embarrassed to pull himself up to look at you anymore,so you grab the hem of your shirt pulling it up in a swift motion,revealing your bare breasts. matt’s head snaps at your action.

you smirk at him and before you know it,his face is in your tits,kissing,sucking,nibbling doing everything that his mouth can possibly do.

your head falls back a little,your hands roam around in his hair occasionally pulling on some. matt moans and whimpers into your skin.

this is what he wanted,he wanted to kiss you all over,suck on your tits,this is what he was craving.

he worked his tongue like magic on your skin,the heat between your legs growing with each of his movements. you groan in wanting more friction.

“you’re so beautiful-” matt spoke between kissing and sucking,he kept whispering praises into your skin,paired with whimpers.

matt takes the liberty to start grinding on you slowly,his mouth never detaching itself from you. his hands find a way to your ass squeezing it through your pyjamas shorts.

he was so lost in your skin,didn’t even realise how many marks he’s left all over you,and how the pace he’d been grinding at had increased by alot. it was only when he heard you whimper loudly,he took his lips off of you to speak to you.

“so pretty—i can do this all day” matt said before crashing his lips on yours,his lips wet and swollen from all the sucking he did earlier, he holds onto your hips, humping you,his covered dick grazing your clit perfectly,making your eyes roll back.

“fuc-i cant-im gon” matt’s eye’s pressed closed,eyebrows knit,his grip on your hips tightening,and his movements sloppy as he crashes down with his orgasm. painting his pants and yours along with the bedsheet under.

his head falls on you,you can feel his fastened heart beat,and his heavy breaths.

matt pulls away,to look at you before realising how many hickeys and marks he’d all over your tits,neck and abdomen. he gasps slightly with his wide.

“shit baby-im sorry i didn’t even-” his eyes roam all over you before you shushed him,assuring him that its okay.a smile grows on his face.

“can you please sit on my face now? please? i’ll try not to cum in my pants this time” you giggle at his words,nodding.

taglist: @espressqe @ginswife @sturnsburna @carolina454 @hope2244 @hotgirlbl0gger @violetstxrniolo777 @riggysworld @verycoolmiyah @fadedstvrn @purpledreamertyphoon @mattsplaything @whore4chris @chris-halleluja @annsx03 @mattsdemi @chrislittleslut @poolover123 @luvvnai @chrissturniolossidehoe @pompomprrin @harmonysturniolo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @soph-loren @ccsturns @lovesturni0l0s @chriss-slutt @wysmols @sturniolosluttt @mattsdillion @alyssa-sturn @bilssturns @sturnobessed @mxnsonn @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @chrissturnioloswife88 @sxphiee3 @purpledreamertyphoon @whoreforchrissturnniolo @slutformatt17 @realuvrrr @sweetxcheeryx @sturnl0ve @estellesdoll @glitterybtch @courta13 @mattsbitchh @slvtf0rchr1s @trevorsgodmother

tai’s notes: divider by me but feel free to use it💋

[grugruel]

ok hi! I woke up in the middle of the night and I had this amazing idea and I immediately thought about you, anyways.

We/reader?? Are married to Jayce and we wake up in the middle of the night because we are sweating and shit, so we take off our shirt and are now completely topless, Jayce wakes up and tries to persuade you to lay back in bed, so you turn around and he notices we are topless and boom! Evolves into smut.

I deeply apologise if this is too vague or too detailed…

Yes ofc! It's kind of short, and I took some creative liberties since the smut wasn't specified. But I hope you like it!😩

Taking Care of You

Pairings: ruined!jayce x wife!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: After waking up from a nightmare, your husband comforts you. But as the bedroom grows cold, he finds himself in need of warming you up.

Wordcount: ca 1.3

Warnings: shower sex, pinv sex, petnames (honey, baby), creampie, praise ish, I love you's, domestic bliss.

AN: I've never been a "baby" girl, but this did sum.

Images flash by her eyes. Warped, iridescent structures and faceless humanoids devoid of mortality.

Crowding, they gather around her. Like schools of fish, no space, no breath. Stripped of flesh and blood, porcelain hands reach for her as they clank and clatter freakishly. She can feel their cold on her body, tearing and yanking, some steadying while other strive to push her off balance.

Suddenly, gold bejewled fingers lunge from the masses and lock around her throat. Small beauty mixing in with the cold horror. The fingers sinch, squeezing until-

She gasps, and her body acts in pure reflex. Throwing herself up, she scans the darkness surrounding her, chest heaving in panic.

But within a mixture of drowsyness and disorientation, her mind hasn't caught up. She doesnt know whats real. Her ears are ringing and cold sweat covers her body, drenching her top as the walls close in around her. Its suffocating her, she claws at her chest. She cant breathe, she cant breathe.

Amidst the confusion, her top pulls off and a touch and ice traces her skin. Her eyes widen in fear and launch into blind defense, mirthlessly slapping and pushing the creature away from her.

The streak of cold runs along her arms and cheek. "Hey, hey . . . It's okay," it says, voice finally reaching her as the buzzing of her mind dampens and her eyes adjust to the darkness. "You're alright." The cold brushes her skin, and as reslisation sets in, the sensation anchors her. "Breathe," the voice reminds her, and she does.

Her surroundings begin to materialise. The sheets beneath her, the wallpapered walls, and in front of her . . . Jayce. There are no pale faces, no lifeless fingers clasping at her throat. There's only Jayce.

"It was a nightmare," he whispers. "Nothing more." Strong hands slide down her shoulders, a touch of cool following in their wake. The wedding ring.

"It was-- the hexcore . . . I-" She shakes her head, trying to make sense of the things she'd seen. Looking down, she's notices her hands clasped around Jayce's wrists. Holding him so hard that her fingers turn white from the supression of bloodflow, so hard he might bruise.

But he doesn't complain, he doesn't even flinch.

In horror, she releases him, stiffly unlatching her grip. Like a statue reluctantly discarding a piece of itself.

With soft eyes and knitting brows, he pulls her into his lap, embracing her bridal-style. "Its over, you're safe." He kisses the top of her head.

Resting against his muscular shoulder, she feels the icy ring rub circles into her thigh, soothing her impossibly. "It felt so real," she murmurs.

Jayce nuzzles his face into her hair, taking a deep breath. "I know, honey," he sighs empathetically. The cold slides up her thigh and torso to then finally cradle her head, holding her steady against his chest.

Her gaze fixated on the gentle light billowing in through the windows and the dust particles it illuminates. A cold breeze chills her damp skin, sending a shiver down her spine and hardening her nipples. Following the stream of light, she finds the window noticeably ajar.

"It's cold," she whispers, looking up at him.

His eyes drift along her body, observing her raised skin, then begins to move. "I'll close the-"

"No," she stops him, unable to think of anything worse than leaving his lap in this moment. "Make me warm, Jayce."

He smiles softly. "You'll have to trust me, then."

She nods, and he lifts her off of the bed. There is truly nobody she would trust more.

-

Dimming the lights, candles have been lit and he enters the shower.

The water trickles down her body, running over and in-between every curve, washing her free of foam after Jayce has lathered her up.

He has taken his time to massage the soap into her skin, paying special mind to her breasts, waist and thighs. His hands gentle but firm, working through every knot and washing away every memory of her nightmare.

Lazily, she drapes her arms around his shoulders. "Get me any wetter and you'll have to bathe me," she jokes, and pulls him closer. Leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Now, are you going to do anything about that?" Her hand slips between their bodies, palming the rock hard member beneath his happy-trail.

Meeting her eyes, they glint with mischief. "Yes," he breathes, and she watches the way the water trickle from unkempt hair to his forehead as he pushes her against the wall.

How it makes paths down his face and follows the length of his nose, dripping from it's tip as he kisses her passionately.

How it rolls down his temples, the inside of his cheeks and finally pools beneath his chin as he hooks a hand beneath her leg and lines himself up with her entrance.

How beautifully he glistens in the warm, dim light as he thrusts inside of her, nearly knocking the breath out of her lungs.

Her nails come out, clawing at his back as he sets a steady pace. "Deeper, Jayce. Please," she begs, lips parted and breathless. Water droplets glossing her lips.

Dutiful as he is, he obides. Sliding his arm further through the hollow of her knee, he hooks her leg over his arm to raise it higher, gaining better access to her core, uterus even. Bracing his forearm against the wall next to her head, he pushes himself deeper. Expelling shudders all over his body in the process. "Fuck." He nuzzles his face against her profile. "You feel so good, baby," he whines, kissing the shell of her ear.

The pulse in her abdomen tightens at his words, she could never tire of the way he makes her feel. "More," she manages between moans, she just needs more of him, she wants him beneath her skin if possible. "You're doing so good." Her hand wraps around the back of his head, locking him in her embrace to keep them as close to one another as possible.

At her words, Jayce really puts his back into it. Thrusting ever harder, ever deeper into her body. It scratches her skin against the tile behind her with every thrust, but she doesn't care. A little pain was surely needed to balance out the ungodly pleasure he provided her with.

"Fuck, honey," he moans. "I love you, y-- do me so good."

"Mmm," she hums. Its high pitched, signaling her coming climax. "Almost there, love you too." She knits her brow in concentration and kisses Jayce's temple, purely out of gratitude for being the man he is.

The water pours over them as the pressure snaps and her wall breaks, her orgasm tearing through her like a giant wave. "Yes," she whimpers, tilting Jayce's head to face her. Their lips meeting in a greedy kiss as her exalted moans spilled into his mouth.

Feeling her pulse around his member, hearing her so satisfied. His thrusts go rigid and he spills inside her. With diminishing strength, he slowly lowers her leg and steps back, giving her a final neck on the cheek. "Warm?" He asks, waiting for the judgement of a job well-done or not.

"More than," she kisses his shoulder.

Turning the shower off, he steps out and spreads a towel between his arms expectantly, waiting for her to turn around. As she does so, he notices the scratches on her back. "Shit, Im sorry," he whispers, kissing the red, irritated skin before wrapping her in his embrace. He folds the towel around her like a gift, and rests his chin on her shoulder.

"It felt good, I don't mind."

"Oh?" He raises his eyebrows, a sly smile on his lips.

"Oh," she confirms.

-

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER ONE ━━ Move-in Day

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.8K

❀ ━ warnings: none except this shits so dialogue heavy it’s almost sickening

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: hiii so this is my new series!!! i lowkey hate this chapter SO much i’ve rewritten it three times and can’t get it the way i want so i’m just publishing it as is. this fic is going to be much more light-hearted than take me to church (lol), big big slow burn and if i get it right almost reminiscent of a romcom. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter more than i did LOL

THE EARLY afternoon light filters in through the half-drawn blinds, casting long shadows across the apartment floor. Paige stands in the middle of her new room, surveying the chaos of boxes, bags, and half-assembled furniture. It’s good to be back on campus—she’s been away for a few weeks, visiting her dad and Drew in Maryland and then her mom and siblings in Montana, and while she’s glad to have seen them, she can’t help but feel a pull toward the UConn, being with the team, practicing, basketball, all the above.

Her mind buzzes with excitement, anticipation for the new year, the new faces, the new challenges. She’s already mentally putting together how the season might go, how she’ll keep pushing herself harder, how she’s ready to lead her team. It feels like the first time in a long time that she’s been able to focus purely on basketball without the stress or rehab and recovery and she’s glad.

Her roommate, Josephine Jacobson—Jo—isn’t around yet. She’s a freshman, a sweet girl, the type that bleeds sunshine but can pull the demon out of herself on the court. Paige knows all about her, of course—how she’s a natural point guard, the number one recruit in the nation, will probably be the future of their team—but they’ve never really been close. Haven’t had the chance to be. But, as always, Paige feels optimistic about it. God put them together for a reason. After all, her past roommates have become some of her best friends. Nika and Evina her freshman year, and then Amari and Dorka last year. It just works out that way. Basketball bonds people, and she’s sure this year will be no different.

She moves one of the boxes to the side, careful not to knock over a stack of them as she does so. She arranges a pile of sweatshirts and sweatpants, making sure everything’s folded as neatly as she’s able to before moving on to the next task. This year, she’s determined to keep things organized, less chaos, more control. She wants her space to actually look nice, not like she’s some sort of slob. (She’s not sure how long this goal is going to last for).

Aubrey strolls in, another one of Paige’s boxes tucked into her hip. She’s already unpacked herself, having got here yesterday, and she’d offered to help Paige when she got here a little under an hour ago. Aubrey opens the box, seeing the bright purple comforter inside.

“Okay, P! I see color!” she says, a teasing grin on her face. “You finally given up on making your room look like a prison cell?”

Paige laughs, rolling her eyes. “Aye, my standards have rose this year. No more living in a box.” She gestures to the several LeBron and basketball posters filtering the floor in the corner of the room. “Decorating it nice this time, trust.”

Aubrey shakes her head, clearly amused. “Yep, I’m sure Bron’s face being the first thing you see when you walk in is gon’ make it real cozy.”

Paige just laughs again, stepping back to decide which corner of the room she wants her bed in. She tilts her head, looking back before deciding it’ll go best directly across the mirror-closet. For certain reasons she’d probably rather keep to herself for now.

“Who’re you rooming with again?” Paige asks, looking over at Aubrey, who’s taken the liberty of placing the millions of shoes Paige owns on the top shelf of her closet.

“Carol and Lili. It’s gonna be chill, for sure.” She shrugs before her eyes gleam a little, smirking at Paige. “Azzi’s gonna have it rough this year, though. Putting her with two freshmen is crazy work. They hyper as hell.”

Paige shrugs a little as she moves over to her bed. “Eh, Ines seems more quiet if anything. Ice, though, yeah. Azzi’ll be fine, though. She deals with me enough and I’m prolly just as bad.”

“Worse,” Aubrey corrects.

Paige rolls her eyes, opting to ask, “Can you help?” instead of responding to the jab. Aubrey nods, moving from her spot by the closet to stand next to Paige before the bed. “Where d’you want it?” she asks.

“Just in that corner,” the blonde responds, nodding her head to the other side.

Aubrey nods again and strides to the opposite side of the bed, the one near the wall. It’s a queen, so it’s too wide for just the two of them to carry, meaning they’ll have to just push it. Paige sighs before starting, her muscles straining slightly as she shoves her bed across the floor, the bed frame scraping noisily against it. Aubrey’s beside her, grabbing the other side with a grunt, their movements in sync but still awkward, both of them trying to be careful not to knock anything over or break anything.

“So,” Aubrey starts, breaking the rhythm of their movements, “what d’you think about yours? Jo. She’s a freshie, too.”

Paige doesn’t pause, her hands gripping the bed frame as she shifts it a few more inches. She’s thinking more about the layout of the room—where she wants things. After a few seconds, she shrugs, glancing over at Aubrey. “She’s cute,” Paige says simply, her voice light as she looks for the right angle to fit the bed by the wall.

Aubrey pauses. For a second, Paige doesn’t even notice—she’s too busy pushing the bed into position. But then Aubrey let’s our a low, exaggerated breath and Paige glances up, noticing the way she’s studying her with a raised brow.

Aubrey gives her a behave type of look. “You cannot fuck Jo Jacobson,” she tells Paige, slow and deliberate, like she’s really trying to get the blonde to understand this.

Paige’s head whips toward her, eyes wide, her grip slipping off the bed frame. “What?” she asks, voice higher than she intends. She looks at Aubrey, still not quite sure if she’s hearing her right. “What are you even talking ‘bout?”

Aubrey just stares, the expression on her face unwavering. “I’m saying, you can’t fuck her. Like, seriously, don’t even think about it.”

The words hit Paige like a slap, but it’s not the harshness of them that makes her heart skip. It’s the fact that Aubrey said it with such absolute certainty, like it was a rule she needed to lay down for Paige.

The blonde furrows her brows as she process what Aubrey just said. She opens her mouth, trying to make sense of it. “Aubrey, what? I—” she stops herself, trying to piece things together. The more she thinks about it, the weirder it all sounds. She barely knows Jo—hell, Jo hasn’t even gotten to campus yet. She’s literally just a sweet freshman, one of the new players. Of course, Paige isn’t thinking about anything remotely romantic with her. Not at all.

She can’t even fathom it.

“Aubrey, bro, are you seriously suggesting that I… What?” Paige repeats, still not believing it. “I—I don’t—no, no, that’s not even a thing.”

Aubrey exclaims, “You just said she was cute! You can’t be doing that, P.”

Paige shakes her head, laughing a little in disbelief, clearly thrown by the whole insinuation. “Yeah, like in a I-wanna-pinch-your-cheeks kind of cute,” she says, mimicking the motion with her hands. “Like she’s sweet, not like she’s fine and I wanna hit that. She’s a freshman and our teammate, bro—you know I ain’t do stuff like that.”

Aubrey, unfazed by Paige’s defense, just raises an eyebrow. “Ion know, your hook-ups have been kinda wild lately.”

Paige rolls her eyes as she reaches down, grabbing the corner of the bed and pulling it another inch into place. “That’s different,” Paige tells her. “That was like, months ago—”

“Three weeks ago,” Aubrey interrupts, but Paige doesn’t bother listening.

“—and that wasn’t even serious. I wouldn’t do that shit with Jo. She’s pretty, but—”

She cuts herself off, realizing how that could sound, and immediately backpedals.

“But she’s a teammate,” Paige finishes, nodding as though it’s the most logical conclusion. Which, it is. “I don’t see her like that. She’ll prolly be like a little sister or something. Seriously, you ain’t gotta worry about this.”

Aubrey doesn’t seem entirely convinced but just shrugs it off with a nonchalant wave. “Alright, alright. Just makin’ sure. Senior duties and all,” she says.

Paige rolls her eyes, nudging the girl in her ribs. Aubrey hisses, and nudges the blonde back. And then they return their attention to the bed, giving it one final tug, making sure it’s aligned just right.

Paige pulls away, taking a look with her hands on her hips. The room looks good, feels right. A good place to spend her next year. And even though she doesn’t know what that year might bring—how the team will play, how her body will hold up—it feels like everything’s in its place for now.

(Minus Aubrey’s odd assumptions, that is).

JO’S STOMACH flutters with a mixture of excitement and nerves as the car pulls into the parking lot right in front of what will be her new home. Her gaze drifts over the apartment building, taking in the sprawling complex that will be hers for the next year. The sun is high, casting everything in a golden glow, and it’s one of those perfect, early summer days—the kind that makes everything feel new and fresh. This is it. She’s finally here. UConn; her dream since forever. The place she’s watched on TV for as long as she can remember, watching them win championship after championship. And, now, it’s real. She’s actually here.

Her dad pulls into a parking space, the car humming to a stop, and Jo takes a deep breath, fighting back the lump in her throat. It’s not that she’s scared; it’s more that it feels huge. This is the beginning of everything. Her heart races a little, her palms tingling. She’s excited—so excited—but it’s all a little daunting, too. The whole what if she doesn’t belong here, what if it’s not everything she’s ever dreamed of echoes in her head, but she knows better than to entertain those thoughts. Despite this always being her dream school, she made sure to explore her options before committing. And, after everything, Storrs was somehow her favorite.

But it’s still a little hard to ignore the tiny voice in the back of her mind that whispers doubts. At least she has familiar faces here—her teammates. She can’t imagine coming here alone, without knowing anyone at all, without that built-in support system. It helps, knowing that the people she’s going to spend the next chapter of her life with are familiar faces, not strangers. Still, there’s a big difference between practice and living together, between seeing someone for a few hours on a court and sharing an apartment with them. The whole thing feels a little surreal.

“Ready, sunshine?” her dad asks, giving her a side-eye as he shuts off the car. His voice has a teasing, comforting quality that always makes Jo feel like everything will be okay.

Jo doesn’t answer right away, just smiles nervously, nodding as she unbuckles her seatbelt. “I think so,” she says, trying to sound more confident than she feels.

Her mom grins at her from the front seat, practically glowing with excitement. “Come on, it’s gonna be so great, Joey.”

Jo laughs softly, the sound easy and light, nodding. They get out of the car, opening the trunk, and Jo begins unloading her bags and boxes—the millions of them. She didn’t mean to over-pack, but somehow, her whole life had been crammed into suitcases and boxes. Her parents each grab as much as they can hold, but even the three of them can’t carry everything, so they head toward the building, the weight of it all already starting to feel like more than it should.

The hallway inside the building smells like fresh paint and clean floors, and it has that crisp, cool air of a place that’s seen its fair share of new beginnings. Jo’s parents chat with each other, but Jo can hardly keep her thoughts straight. She’s here, really here, and she’s not sure if it’s excitement or fear that’s making her heart beat so fast.

They trudge up the stairs together—her dad leading, her mom picking up the rear, and Jo in the middle. The stairs creak beneath their weight, and every step takes them closer to her new life. She tries not to think about how much this move means, how much it’s going to mean—because that’s just the kind of thing that could make her go a little crazy.

When they finally reach her apartment, Jo’s the first to pull out her keys. She opens the door, excitement bubbling in her chest, but as she’s about to step inside, someone is trying to step out, bumping right into her.

Paige.

She steadies Jo with a hand on her shoulder, looking down at the girl—she’s only got a couple inches on Jo, but it certainly feels like a lot more right now—saying, with a little bit of surprise in her tone, “Oh, hi, Jo.”

Jo stills for just a split second. She’s met Paige several times—throughout her recruitment, last year when she and Ice and Yanna were here for First Night, all the games she attended in between—but, for Jo, it’s still a little like, wow, okay, hi Paige Bueckers. She’s admired Paige and her game for years, so yeah, maybe she’s a little starstruck every time she sees her. But she realizes just as quickly how that needs to change immediately because they are going to be living together for the next year. She’s here for a reason, not to be starry-eyed over the blonde girl in front of her.

“Hey!” Jo manages, flashing Paige a bright, warm smile that’s always her go-to move, even if her heart is racing.

Paige’s gaze shifts from Jo’s face to her parents, then down to the ridiculous amount of luggage they’re all holding, and her eyebrows raise. “Wow,” she says with a laugh. “Over-packer?”

Jo laughs, too, feeling some of that initial awkwardness beginning to seep away. “This isn’t even all of it,” she admits, shifting her weight a little. She realizes how she’s being a little rude, not introducing her mom and dad, so she gestures to them and says, “These are my parents. And this is Paige.”

Jo’s parents exchange polite hellos, nodding toward the blonde, who’s already stepping aside to let them through.

“Lemme help you with that,” Paige offers before anyone can protest, already lifting a couple of boxes from Jo’s mom. It’s clear she’s used to helping out—comfortable in this setting—and Jo appreciates it, even though she knows she can manage. But Paige’s energy is infectious, and she can’t help but feel comforted by the ease in the older girl’s presence.

“Thanks,” Jo says gratefully. “It’s a lot of stuff.”

Paige shrugs, a casual smile on her face. “It’s all good. We’ve got time. I’ll help you get settled.”

The four of them make their way into the apartment, and Jo’s parents immediately make a beeline for Jo’s bedroom to drop off the bags they’re carrying. They work together, setting everything down in a neat pile before Jo’s mom turns to her with a warm smile.

“We’ll go get the rest of it,” she tells her daughter. “You start unpacking, ‘kay?”

Jo nods, trying to hide the way her heart sinks a little at the idea of being left alone for the first time in a new place.

But then she realizes, she’s not alone. Paige is still here.

Jo takes a deep breath, then steps further into her room, already eyeing the empty bed and the space where she’s going to have to build her new life. The door clicks shut behind her, and suddenly it’s just the two of them. For a moment, neither says anything. It’s a little awkward, that first silence between two almost-strangers who are about to be more than that—roommates, teammates, friends.

Paige rubs the back of her neck, probably feeling it too. Clearly, though, she doesn’t like that, and Jo watches as she lazily plops down into the standard-issue desk chair, making herself at ease. She grins at Jo, saying with a casualness that somehow manages to be both disarming and mildly intimidating, “So, how was the drive?”

Jo shrugs a little, leaning slightly on the bed frame. “Not bad,” she replies. “Boston’s only like an hour and a half away.”

“Oh, yeah,” Paige says, nodding her head in almost mock realization. “New England girl. I knew that.”

Jo grins, bemused and already starting to feel more comfortable. “Born and raised.”

“Nice,” Paige says, dragging the word out a little. “You got the accent and everything?”

“I don’t know, do I sound like I do?” Jo asks, laughing softly.

Paige’s grin widens as she spins in the chair. “Hmm,” she hums, eyes narrowing teasingly. “I dunno, talk more.”

Jo laughs again, looking at the blonde with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “What do you want me to say?” she questions, tilting her head as another small giggle bubbles in her chest.

“Like, something with an R. That’s what a Boston accent is, right?” Paige shrugs, gummy smile on full display and eyebrows raised. She leans forward a little, before saying with a terrible attempt at a Boston accent, “Park the car in Harvard yard?”

Jo can’t help but outright snort at that, stomach constricting as she laughs at the blonde. Paige laughs, too, scrunching her nose as she does so. “Oh my God, you did not,” Jo manages between giggles, eyes crinkling a little.

“I did,” Paige replies. “Now you gotta! Lemme hear the accent!”

“You’re not real,” Jo mumbles, shaking her head, in half disbelief at the pure unseriousness of Paige Bueckers. But it’s nice—that she’s already making her feel so comfortable. Jo sighs, before saying indignantly, “Park the car in Harvard yard.”

Paige claps her hands together, laughing loudly as she exclaims, “You definitely have one!”

Jo’s jaw drops a little, defending, “No one has ever told me I have an accent, you definitely just need your ears checked.”

Paige grins, shaking her head, saying, “Nah, it’s there. I heard it.”

“Fine,” Jo relents, rolling her eyes. “You should hear my dad, though. It’s really thick sometimes.”

Paige leans forward on the chair again, eyes lighting up with a bit of interest. “I gotta hear it. Maybe I’ll ask him to say it, too.”

Jo just shakes her head, rolling her eyes again as the corners of her mouth twitch upward despite herself. There’s something about Paige that makes it hard to stay guarded—not that Jo was trying to. She’s just… larger than life in a way that could definitely be overwhelming, but there’s such an ease to her too, a confidence that feels oddly inviting.

“Are you finished unpacking?” Jo asks, breaking the newfound silence as she gestures vaguely toward the blonde’s room behind the door.

Paige shrugs, her expression somewhere between proud and sheepish. “Mostly. Aubrey and I did it this morning, but I definitely cut corners. If you open any of the drawers in there, so messy. I got lazy.”

Jo raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking up. “Efficient, though.”

“Exactly,” Paige says, pointing at her. “You get it.”

And then the easy rhythm between them is interrupted by the loud, unmistakable growl of Jo’s stomach. Her cheeks flush immediately as Paige’s grin spreads wider, her laugh concerns again breaking the quiet of the room.

“Hungry?” she teases, spinning the chair one last time before stopping to slouch backward against it.

“Ugh, yeah,” Jo groans, pressing a hand to her stomach. “I haven’t eaten since, like, breakfast.”

“Same,” Paige says with a nod, pushing herself up out of the chair and stretching her arms over her head. “I think we’re all gonna get pizza tonight, though. Go up to Nika’s and hang out. She’s with Yanna and Amari. You’re coming, of course.”

Jo grins, raising her eyebrows as she says teasingly, “I don’t have a choice?” It’s just a joke, because, obviously, even if she did, she’d go either way.

Paige gives her a little look, narrowing her eyes jokingly as she leans forward, flicking Jo on the arm and telling her, “Absolutely not.”

Before she can respond, there’s a knock at the doorframe and Jo’s mom’s voice floats in cheerfully, “Look who we found!”

Jo turns to see her parents standing in the doorway, her dad carrying a suitcase while her mom holds the door open for someone else—none other than Ice Brady. Jo knows Ice well, the two of them having gotten easily close during different USA basketball gigs and through their shared commitment process. Ice grins broadly, a laundry basket balanced on her hip—clearly, she’s been put to work.

“Aye, hey guys!” she calls out, stepping into the room with an energy that matches her nickname—cool, but in a warm and easy way.

“Of course they roped you into helping,” Jo says, laughing as Ice sets the basket down with a playful groan.

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she says, shaking her head playfully as she glances back at Jo’s parents who just smile at her, shrugging.

Ice then leans in, giving Jo a little side-hug as she says, “Hey, JoJo.”

Jo rolls her eyes, swatting at Ice’s arm. “I told you, no calling me that.” While Paige, who’s now leant casually against the desk, exclaims, “Oh my God, like JoJo Siwa.”

Ice laughs saying, “Exactly,” as she leans over and daps Paige up with a grin. Jo gives both of them little glares, saying, “No, I am not JoJo Siwa! Jo or Josephine, nothing else.”

Ice shrugs, sniggering, “JoJo.”

“Isuneh!”

THE AIR in the apartment is warm and filled with the hum of overlapping voices. Paige sits tucked into the corner of the small couch, her legs crossed under her, a half-eaten slice of pizza balanced on a paper plate in her lap. To her right, Dorka’s mid-sentence, recounting some story from her summer that has Aaliyah laughing hard enough to cover her mouth with her hand.

It’s the first real team hangout of the year, the kind where the bonds for the season start to form, where they begin to really get to know the new guys. The absence of last year’s seniors—Christyn, Olivia, E—feels strange but not exactly heavy; just like a space waiting to be filed rather than a void that can’t be. Paige glances across the room at Lou, Azzi, and Ines, sprawled across the other couch. Azzi leans back, her ankles crossed on the coffee table, her focus more on her phone than the conversation, but Paige knows her well enough to see that she’s listening. Lou’s animated hands keep catching Paige’s eye as she gestures through some story, and Ines is nodding along, face lighting up with her adorable freshman-ness.

Paige’s gaze then drifts downward, landing on the scene on the floor. Jo is half-laying across Caroline’s legs, her dark hair spilling against Caroline’s leggings. Caroline, ever the mother, absently runs her fingers through Jo’s hair while chatting with Aubrey. Faintly, Paige is aware that Jo and Caroline know each other well, have been friends for years. Both grew up in Massachusetts, not far from one another, same AAU team if Paige’s memory serves her correctly.

The new guys—the freshmen and Lou—all already fit in well. Lou and Ines have already created easy bonds with each other and Azzi. Ice is playfully bickering with Nika and Amari at the table, the three of them leaning into a conversation that seems half-joking, half-serious. Jo’s a little quiet, looking more thoughtful than anything, but Paige can tell she’s completely comfortable as she lays on Caroline and listens to her steady stream of chatter. Yanna, too, though she’s also on the quiet side, pitches into Aubrey and Caroline’s conversation every now and then.

Paige shifts her focus back to her plate, taking another bite of pizza. It’s bland and overly chewy, a far cry from what she’s been craving. She doesn’t say anything, though. The conversation flows around her, easy and light, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional clink of someone setting a cup down too hard.

“God, this tastes like cardboard,” Ice announces suddenly, holding up her slice with a look of exaggerated disgust.

“Yeah, it’s… not good,” Jo says with a little grimace, Paige watching as she glances at her half-eaten slice that she hasn’t touched in probably ten minutes.

“Tastes like cafeteria food,” Yanna says from her spot on the bar stool, though Paige can see that she’s eaten all of hers.

“Worse than cafeteria food,” Azzi chimes in, eyes still on her phone, tone a little dry. “School pizza pretends to have flavor.”

Nika nods at everyone’s words, looking like the pizza situation might as well be a tragedy. Which, to Nika, Paige knows it kind of is. “Yeah, bro, we gotta go to New Haven if we want any god pizza. It’s my biggest disappointment in life.”

Paige grins at that, leaning back into the couch as she watches the exchange. It’s funny to her how every year, without fail, the new players get hit with the reality of Storrs’ subpar pizza options. “Y’all gotta get used to it.”

Ice groans, and Paige laughs a little as she contradicts herself and takes another big bite of pizza.

Jo glances up from her spot on the floor, dark brows arching in amusement. “Nika, New Haven’s an hour away.”

“Worth it,” Nika insists, hands slicing through the air for emphasis. “Best pizza in the country, hands down.”

“Eh, debatable,” Ice fires back, smirking.

“Debatable?” Nika repeats, looking scandalized. “’Kay, no, see, now you gotta go. I’m takin’ you to Pepe’s or Sally’s, and then we’ll talk.”

The debate spirals from there, the room splitting into factions—those who have been to New Haven and swear by it, and the skeptics like Ice who clearly need convincing. Paige inputs a couple times, but other than that continues eating her cardboard pizza, taking the time to listen, which she doesn’t usually do. The topic quickly starts to feel like it’s been beaten to death, but that doesn’t stop Nika from gesturing wildly as Ice shakes her head, arms crossed like she’s already over it.

Paige’s gaze shifts from them to Jo and Caroline, who are directly in front of her across the room. There’s a mischievous tilt to Jo’s smile as she watches Ice and Nika, and Paige feels a pang of curiosity. Jo looks like she’s got something to say, and sure enough, a beat later, she interrupts with a voice that carries just enough weight to make everyone turn her way.

“Ice,” Jo interrupts, her tone deceptively innocent, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Let’s quit talking about pizza and talk about your new little goal you’ve got.”

The room collectively seems to perk up at that. Paige sits up straighter, interest piqued. She glances at Ice, who immediately shoots Jo a warning glare.

“No,” the Brady girl says firmly, voice clipped.

The refusal only makes Paige more curious. She leans forward, elbows on her knees now, eyes wide with a playful insistence. “Oh, no, you gotta tell us now,” she exclaims, grin wide.

Aaliyah, beside her, says, “Yeah, Ice, don’t leave us hangin’!”

Ice shakes her head, clearly unwilling to budge. But Jo, apparently unfazed by the glare the Brady girl has set on her hard, sits up slightly, her smile turning almost devilish. “Ice said she wants a sneaky link by next week. It’s her number one goal now that she’s on campus!”

The reaction is instant and explosive. Loud laughs and little screams of exclamation erupt from everyone as Ice’s face twists into a mix of betrayal and outrage. Paige finds herself laughing so hard she has to lean back into the couch, her head tipping toward the ceiling as her shoulders shake.

“Jo!” Ice exclaims, her voice a biz of exasperation and disbelief. She grabs a napkin from the table and chucks it at Jo, who barely flinches.

Caroline picks the napkin up and tosses it toward the trash can, her tone scolding and motherly as she says, “Ice.”

But Ice doesn’t listen. Instead, she points an accusing finger at Jo, her eyes narrowing. “JoJo, you’re such a traitor.”

Jo’s grin only widens. She shrugs, looking utterly unbothered as she settled back into Caroline’s lap. “Hey, we’re all willing to help you find a fuck buddy, don’t you worry.”

Ice glares even harder and it makes Jo laugh again. Paige can’t help but let her gaze linger on the brunette, her chest still tight from laughing. Jo’s giggles are unrestrained, her cheeks flushed with amusement. There’s something about it that Paige finds infectious. The way Jo lights up when she’s laughing feels almost magnetic, like she’s carrying her own little pocket of sunshine.

“Oh, Ice,” Nika says, pulling Paige’s gaze away from Jo. There’s a familiar glint in Nika’s eyes. “If you need help finding a sneaky link, Paige is the expert. She’s got you covered.”

Paige’s mouth falls open, eyes widening as she stares at her twin. “Yo!” she exclaims, sitting up.

Amari snorts from her spot at the table, her expression one of barely-constrained amusement. “P, be for real.”

Azzi, who hasn’t looked up from her phone in a while, adds in without missing a beat, “Paige is a man-whore, if that wasn’t obvious.”

Paige gasps dramatically, her hand clutching her chest like she’s been mortally wounded. “I ain’t even a man!”

“You act like one,” Caroline chimes in, voice calm but teasing.

Paige just stares at all of them, her mouth slightly open, as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Man, what’s all this gangin’ up on me for?” she asks, her tone half-offended, half-playful.

Eventually, the room’s energy slowly shifts as the teasing dies down. Laughter fades into soft chuckles, and everyone starts settling back into their spots. Paige stretches her legs out again, her socked feet brushing lightly against the coffee table. The buzz of the conversation has left her grinning, though her cheeks still feel warm from all the ribbing. She’s content to let the chatter flow around her now, her focus drifting as she scrolls on Instagram until Aaliyah leans forward from the couch and throws a spark back into the room.

“Jo,” Aaliyah says, tone playful, “since you were so quick to expose Ice, you got anyone you’ve been wanting?”

Paige perks up at that, curious despite herself. Sue her if she’s nosy. She glances toward Jo, who’s still sprawled on the floor, her head now resting against Caroline’s knee. Jo’s expression doesn’t change much, maybe softens slightly.

“No, she doesn’t,” Ice says quickly, annoyance lacing her voice. Paige can tell it’s because she can’t humiliate Jo like she’s just exposed her. Ice gestures at the Jacobson girl with her pizza crust like she’s making a point. “Girl’s already met her damn husband.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, intrigued by the certainty in Ice’s tone. She watches Jo carefully now, noting the way a faint smile tugs at her lips. It’s not the cheeky grin she’s been wearing most of the night; it’s something softer, quieter, like the thought of this so-called future husband of hers is enough to soothe her, ground her.

Amari leans forward from her chair and tilts her head. “Aw, Jo, you have a boyfriend?”

Jo nods, that same small, telling smile still on her face. Paige notices how her cheeks turn just the slightest shade pinker. It’s… different. Softer, almost vulnerable.

Damn, Paige thinks, watching her. She must really love that boy.

The room seems to erupt again, this time not in laughter but in a cascade of questions and exclamations. Nika asks, “How long you been dating?”

Jo shifts a little, clearly embarrassed, mumbling, “Eighth grade.”

Paige feels her eyes widen, almost so wide they might as well pop out of their sockets. It’s impressive—a middle school relationship lasting that long.

But then Caroline adds with a knowing smile, “Yeah, but you’ve loved him since you were, like, four, Jo.”

Jo’s face flushes deeper, and she buries it briefly against Caroline’s leg before mumbling, “Yeah, we’ve been next-door neighbors our whole lives.”

The whole team seems to aw at that, exclaiming how cute. “Jo, that’s like a movie!” Azzi says softly, a hopeless romantic. Paige has to admit they’re not wrong. It’s that perfect, golden sort of story people write novels about—the girl-next-door falling for the boy-next-door.

Except Paige doesn’t really think it’s all that cute. Maybe it’s because she’s too gay, but she doesn’t get how anyone could be into a boy, especially for that long. It just seems… exhausting. Still, she keeps her mouth shut, letting the conversation roll on without her. It’s uncharacteristic.

Ines, eyes wide with interest asks, “What’s his name?”

“Asher,” Jo answers, voice soft but steady.

Dorka, next to Paige, claps her hands together. “Let me see a picture, Jo!”

Jo hesitates for a second, her blush depending, but then she sits up and pulls her phone out of her pocket. She unlocks it, turning the screen toward Dorka—and toward Paige, who can’t help but sneak a glance.

Paige hates to admit it, but it’s… cute. The way Jo’s looking at him in the picture—it’s soft, unguarded, like the rest of the world could fall away, and she wouldn’t care as long as he’s there.

Paige doesn’t know if she’s jealous that Jo has a love like that and she doesn’t, or if she’s disgusted by the whole prospect.

Dorka coos, smile wide. “So cute!”

Jo laughs, a little bashful now, and Aubrey pipes up from her spot on the barstool by the kitchen. “Where’s he going to school?”

“Penn State,” Jo answers.

Paige catches the the slight shift in Jo’s posture, the way she tenses a little, the way her smile falters ever so slightly. That kind of distance is hard, especially for a young relationship.

Paige leans back into the couch, her gaze still lingering on Jo as the conversation continues. She wonders if they’ll last. Not in a mean way—Jo clearly loves the guy—but Paige has seen it happen before. Everyone has. High school sweethearts falling apart once they hit college, the distance and the changes proving too much.

Still, something about the way Jo smiled at him in that photo makes Paige hesitate. Maybe they’ll be one of the lucky ones.

Or maybe it’s not her place for even thinking about it at all.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BEGIN AGAIN

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: a revenge plan turns complicated when y/n falls for rafe cameron—the one person she was never supposed to love. but was it ever just revenge?

based on this ask !! this request has been in the works for a couple weeks (hence the 5k word count😝), i really really enjoyed writing this and as soon as i read it i knew i had to make it inspired by ‘begin again,’ and i hope you don’t mind me taking creative liberty on this one anon, so thank you !! <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: some angst but a fluff ending, cheating (jj to reader), soft!rafe, cursing, allusions to sex, revenge plan to lovers (?), alcohol consumption, rafe has a normal family in this one (😀). (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 5.3k (i got insanely carried away🫣)

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N could still feel the sting of JJ's words, the way they sliced through her like a dull knife—slow, painful, irreparable.

"It just happened, okay?" he had said, desperation laced in his voice. "It didn't mean anything, baby. I swear."

But it did.

If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have done it. If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have shattered her trust, her love, her belief in him with a single, reckless mistake.

She stared at him, chest rising and falling with the force of her breath, hands curled into fists at her sides. The night air was thick with humidity, the salty ocean breeze doing nothing to cool the fire burning inside her.

"You cheated on me with Kiara?" she spat, her voice trembling, though not with sadness—no, sadness was something she'd felt the moment the words left his mouth. Now, it was only rage. "And you expect me to just—what? Pretend it didn't happen?"

JJ ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, looking more disheveled than usual. "I was drunk, Y/N. It wasn't planned. It wasn't—"

"Don't," she cut him off sharply. "Don't stand there and try to make excuses." She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You know what hurts the most, JJ? It's not even just the cheating. It's the fact that I defended you to everyone. My parents, my friends. They all told me I was stupid for choosing a Pogue over every other guy who actually makes sense for me. But I didn't care, because I loved you."

Her voice broke, but she swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep it together.

"And what did you do with that?" she continued, taking a step closer, her eyes blazing. "You threw it in my face. You embarrassed me."

JJ's jaw clenched. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. You know that."

"Yeah? Well, you did."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Y/N could see it in his face—the guilt, the regret. But it didn't matter. It wasn't enough. It never would be.

She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "We're done, JJ."

His head snapped up. "Y/N—"

"Don't," she warned, her voice final. "You made your choice. Now I'm making mine."

And with that, she turned and walked away, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

She didn't cry.

Not when she got home, not when she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, not even when the memories of JJ and everything they had crashed over her like a tidal wave. No, she didn't cry.

She just got angry.

Because she had been loyal. She had been good to him. She had given him everything, only for him to betray her with Kiara of all people—the one girl she had actually trusted.

And now? Now, she wanted him to hurt.

Which was exactly why she was standing in front of Tannyhill, her heart pounding in her chest.

This was reckless. Dangerous, even. But she didn't care.

She needed this.

She needed revenge.

And she knew just the person to help her get it.

—

Rafe Cameron was a lot of things—arrogant, temperamental, a little unhinged—but he wasn't stupid.

So when Y/N showed up at his door at nearly midnight, looking like she was on the verge of either committing murder or breaking down completely, he knew something had happened.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, blue eyes scanning her face. "What do you want, sweetheart?"

She swallowed, straightening her shoulders. "I need your help."

Rafe raised a brow. "With what?"

"Making JJ regret everything."

A slow smirk curled at the corners of his lips. "Interesting."

She exhaled sharply, stepping closer. "Are you in or not?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You really wanna do this?"

She met his gaze, unwavering. "Yeah, I do."

For a moment, he just studied her, as if trying to figure out how serious she was. Then, something shifted in his expression.

"Alright," he said, pushing off the doorframe. "Let's make him suffer."

The plan was simple.

Make JJ jealous. Make him see what he lost. Make him regret ever touching Kiara.

But some point during that evening, the lines blurred.

Because Rafe was Rafe—intense, intoxicating, dangerously charismatic. And Y/N was already teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

So when they ended up in his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind them, it wasn't just about JJ anymore.

It was about the way Rafe looked at her, like she was the most interesting thing in the room. The way his hands skimmed her waist, his touch possessive yet careful. The way his breath fanned against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Still thinking about JJ?" he murmured, fingers tracing slow patterns on her hip.

She met his gaze, lips parted, heart pounding.

"No," she admitted, and it was the truth.

Because in that moment, it wasn't about revenge. It wasn't about making JJ jealous.

It was about the fire in her veins, the ache in her chest, the desperate need to feel something other than betrayal.

And Rafe—Rafe was more than willing to oblige.

His lips crashed against hers, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. Nothing except Rafe Cameron.

—

Y/N lay beside Rafe, her body still humming from the events of the night. The air between them was thick with something she couldn't quite name—satisfaction, exhilaration, maybe even something deeper. The sheets were a mess, tangled between them as she stared up at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing.

Beside her, Rafe propped himself up on one elbow, smirking down at her. His hair was tousled, his lips still slightly swollen from their heated encounter. There was something different about the way he was looking at her, but Y/N shoved that thought away before she could entertain it. This wasn't about them. This wasn't about feelings.

It was about revenge.

"So, how do you wanna play this?" Rafe asked, tracing his fingers lazily over her bare shoulder.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, eyes sharp despite the haziness of their moment. "We make it obvious enough that JJ notices," she said, her voice steady, as if the way his touch sent shivers down her spine wasn't affecting her. "But not so obvious that it looks fake."

Rafe chuckled. "So, we make it look real then?"

Y/N hesitated. She knew what he was doing—he liked to mess with her, push her buttons, see how far he could get under her skin. But she wouldn't let him win.

"Exactly," she said, rolling onto her side, meeting his gaze head-on. "You're his biggest enemy, and I'm his biggest mistake. Nothing will drive him crazier than seeing me with you."

Rafe's smirk widened. "You really are ruthless when you want to be."

"You have no idea."

Rafe hummed in amusement, and with that, their arrangement was set.

This was about JJ. About making him regret everything.

At least, that's what Y/N told herself.

—

The first time they made their "relationship" public, it was calculated. Rafe had picked her up from the country club in his Pogue-killer truck, windows down, music blasting—just in time for JJ to see them as he passed by on his dirt bike.

JJ had stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing, jaw clenching so hard Y/N thought his teeth might break.

Rafe had played it up, resting his hand on her thigh, flashing JJ a taunting grin before speeding off.

Y/N had expected to feel triumphant.

Instead, her stomach twisted in a way she didn't understand.

—

The first time Rafe showed up early, it threw her off.

She had told him to meet her for coffee on a random Wednesday, expecting the usual—him strolling in twenty minutes late, making some sarcastic remark, turning their little arrangement into something that felt like a joke.

But when she walked in, he was already there.

Sitting at a corner table, legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest. And when he saw her, he stood up, gave her a small nod.

"You're early," she said, eyebrows raised.

"You sound surprised."

"I am surprised."

Rafe smirked, pulling out the chair for her. "Sit down, princess."

She hesitated before taking the seat, watching him as he slid into the chair across from her. It felt... strange. Unfamiliar.

JJ had never been early.

JJ had never pulled out her chair.

She shook the thought away, focusing instead on the game they were playing. That's all it was—a game.

Still, she couldn't ignore the way her chest tightened when Rafe leaned back in his chair, looking at her like she was something worth paying attention to.

After they made their orders, they sat with their freshly brewed drinks.

"Didn't take you for a latte girl," he teased, nodding at her cup.

Y/N raised a brow. "Didn't take you for someone who hangs out anywhere that doesn't serve alcohol."

Rafe smirked. "Touché."

It should have been a quick meeting—just another public sighting to stir the pot. But somehow, they ended up talking.

Really talking.

Y/N had expected him to flirt, to push the boundaries of their deal, but instead, they talked about their childhood—about summers spent at the club, about the times they'd been forced to sit at boring Kook events together as kids.

Rafe had made her laugh. Genuinely laugh.

She had almost forgotten why they were doing this in the first place.

—

A week later, he picked her up for a party, and she made a point to wear heels.

JJ had always hated when she wore them, always made a face, always grumbled something about her being too tall next to him.

But when she climbed into Rafe's truck, he barely glanced at them before smirking. "Damn," he muttered, eyes dragging up her legs. "Trying to make it harder for me to behave?"

She rolled her eyes, but her stomach did something weird. Something dangerous.

Rafe drove with one hand on the wheel, the other draped over her thigh, his fingers warm and steady.

It was meant to be for show.

For JJ.

So why did it feel like something else?

Later that night at the party, Y/N and Rafe were standing just close enough that people whispered.

JJ was across the yard, watching them with a glare so sharp it could cut through steel.

Y/N should have been paying attention to him, should have been relishing in the jealousy that was the whole point of this.

But instead, she was too focused on Rafe's hand on the small of her back. The way his thumb moved in slow, absentminded circles against her skin.

When she turned to look at him, he wasn't watching JJ.

He was watching her.

—

A couple days later, she almost slipped up.

They were walking down the street after grabbing dinner—something casual, something that wasn't supposed to feel like a date.

She was about to bring up JJ, to remind herself why they were doing this in the first place.

But before she could, Rafe started talking about his family.

"My dad's obsessed with old westerns," he said, shaking his head. "Every Christmas, like clockwork, he makes us watch The Good, the Bad and the Ugly."

Y/N blinked. "Seriously?"

Rafe chuckled. "Swear to God. Every single year. Sarah and I know every damn line."

She found herself laughing, imagining Rafe and Sarah rolling their eyes as Ward Cameron sat in front of the TV, quoting the movie word for word.

JJ had never talked about things like that.

JJ had never let her in like that.

She pushed the thought away, but the seed had already been planted.

—

Then came the night that the shift between them had started to show.

It was late, and they were sitting on the hood of Rafe's truck, looking out over the water.

The party was still going strong down the beach, but they had drifted away from it, neither of them in the mood for drunken chaos.

Rafe took a swig from his beer, then turned to look at her.

"You ever gonna tell me why you were with him?"

Y/N frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rafe tilted his head. "I just don't get it. You're smart. You've got standards. And yet..." He let the sentence hang.

Y/N huffed, kicking a loose rock off the side of the truck. "He was... fun. He made me feel like I wasn't just another Kook girl. Like I wasn't just..." She trailed off, feeling stupid for saying it out loud.

Rafe was quiet for a second before saying, "He didn't deserve you."

She turned to look at him, expecting the usual sarcasm, but there was none. Just quiet certainty.

Her throat tightened.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I know that now."

And when Rafe threw his head back, laughing at something she said a few minutes later, she thought it was strange.

Strange that he thought she was funny.

Because JJ never did.

—

Another night, they found themselves in his truck, parked by the beach. It had started raining, heavy droplets drumming against the windshield, the air thick with the scent of salt and rain.

Y/N had been rambling about something—some ridiculous Kook drama that, in the grand scheme of things, didn't actually matter.

And then, out of nowhere, Rafe had reached across the console and tucked a strand of damp hair away from her face.

Y/N had gone silent, her heart doing something it definitely shouldn't have been doing.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the rain.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she had asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe had only smirked. "No reason."

But there was a reason.

And it scared her.

She knew things were getting complicated when she started noticing things about him she shouldn't.

Like the way his voice softened when he said her name.

Or the way he always made sure she got home safe, even when they weren't together.

Or the way he never pushed her, never made her feel like this was just some game.

Somewhere along the way, the lines between their act and reality started to blur.

And Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready to figure out what that meant.

—

The moment that nearly shattered her resolve happened at another party.

They had been standing close, laughing about something she couldn't even remember now. And then, without thinking, she had reached up and brushed a piece of hair out of his face.

It had been instinctive. Natural.

But when she realised what she had done, her breath hitched.

Because Rafe was looking at her like she had just changed everything.

And maybe... maybe she had.

Y/N kept telling herself that this was just revenge.

That the way her stomach flipped whenever Rafe touched her was just part of the plan.

That the way she found herself looking for him in crowded rooms was just to keep up the act.

But deep down, she knew.

She had fallen for Rafe Cameron.

—

The room was still heavy with the lingering heat from the night—sheets twisted around their legs, the soft hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the thick humidity of the night. Y/N lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process the whirlwind that had completely changed her life in the past few weeks.

Rafe lay beside her, his body close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, but far enough that there was space between them—a silent invitation, as if asking her to fill it. His hand rested on his stomach, but his fingers were almost touching hers.

The silence stretched comfortably between them. It wasn't awkward. It wasn't forced. It felt...right.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a glow over his face. He was still as handsome as ever, his jaw sharp, eyes intense even when he was relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. But it wasn't the same cocky smirk that had first drawn her in—this was something different. It was real. It was genuine.

She couldn't stop herself from smiling too. "What are we doing, Rafe?" she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe turned his head, his blue eyes locking with hers. There was a quiet intensity in them, a look that said he knew exactly what she meant but wasn't sure how to say it either. "I don't know," he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken emotion. "But I think it's something good."

Y/N's heart fluttered, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. Rafe was always the tough guy, the one who hid behind arrogance and bravado, the one who never let anyone see the cracks in his armor. But with her, it was different. She could see it now—the cracks were there, but they weren't flaws. They were pieces of him she could understand, pieces that were human, not just a cold façade.

She reached out, her hand finding his, fingers brushing gently over his knuckles. He didn't pull away. Instead, he laced their fingers together, holding her hand with a tenderness that surprised her.

"Do you regret this?" she asked, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. She had to know. There were so many things between them, so many things left unsaid, but that was the one question that had been haunting her the most. Did he regret it?

Rafe blinked, the intensity in his gaze softening as he turned his hand to squeeze hers. "No," he answered, his voice steady but with an underlying depth she couldn't ignore. "I don't regret it." He let out a breath, his gaze turning towards the ceiling, as if trying to find the right words. "I thought it was just supposed to be a game, you know? Make JJ jealous, show him that you could move on...but it's not a game anymore."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. Her mind raced. She didn't know how she felt about that—about the fact that it had started with a plan, a scheme, to get back at JJ for everything. But as the days passed, the more time she spent with Rafe, the more she realized just how much they had in common, how well they fit together.

Her fingers traced the lines of his hand as she spoke. "Neither did I," she confessed. "I started this thinking I'd get back at JJ, but...I don't know, something just changed. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about him."

Rafe's eyes met hers again, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, his voice low, but with warmth now. "I know what you mean."

They both lay there in the quiet, holding hands, letting the moment stretch out. There was something peaceful about it—something intimate that neither of them had ever expected when this all began. What started as a plan to make someone else jealous had somehow turned into something much deeper, something neither of them had seen coming.

Y/N shifted slightly, turning onto her side to face him fully. She couldn't deny how she felt anymore. The chemistry between them was undeniable, but it wasn't just that. It was the way they laughed together, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the room, the way he protected her without even thinking.

"Rafe," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

Her heart raced in her chest as soon as the words left her mouth. She had said it before, in the past—I love you—but never like this. Never in this way.

Rafe's breath hitched, his chest rising and falling a little faster now, and for a moment, he didn't speak. Instead, he reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands, as if needing to touch her to make sure she was real. His thumb brushed over her cheek, soft and slow, sending a wave of warmth flooding through her.

"You're not the only one," he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm falling for you too, Y/N."

Her breath caught in her throat. The words she had always wanted to hear from him, the words she had never expected to come, were there now. And they were real.

Rafe leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss, soft and slow, like he was savoring it. It wasn't heated or urgent like some of their previous kisses—it was gentle, sweet, and full of the unspoken feelings they had been holding back. It was everything they hadn't been able to say out loud.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against hers, and they both just breathed, their hands still entwined, hearts racing in sync.

"I never thought I'd say this," Rafe said quietly, eyes closed as he let out a shaky breath, "but you make me feel like I'm actually worth something."

Y/N's chest tightened. She could feel the weight of his words, the vulnerability he was offering her. He had always been the guy who seemed so confident, so sure of himself, but in this moment, Y/N saw something different. She saw the cracks in his armor, the part of him that had never believed he was good enough for anything—anyone.

And Y/N? She couldn't let him think that way. Not anymore.

"You are worth everything, Rafe," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "More than you know."

For a long time, they stayed like that—just holding each other, letting the night wash over them, the silence comfortable and full of promises. There were no expectations, no pressure, just the understanding that something had changed. Something real had blossomed between them, and neither of them was running from it anymore.

"I've never felt like this before," Rafe admitted after a while, his voice soft but full of sincerity. "With you, it feels like...like I could actually have something real. Something that isn't just a mess."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "You have it, Rafe. You have me."

And for the first time in a long time, both of them believed it.

—

It had been a couple of weeks since the night Rafe and Y/N had finally confessed their feelings for each other. Their relationship had progressed quickly, but neither of them had hesitated. They had fallen for each other in a way that felt right—organic and effortless. The label was there, official now, and it felt like both of them had finally found what they were looking for.

But as expected, the whispers started circulating quickly. Word of their relationship had gotten out, and it wasn't long before people started noticing—especially JJ.

The evening was warm and humid, a perfect night for a party at the Boneyard. The music was thumping, people were scattered around the yard, drinking and chatting, while others danced under the string lights. Y/N, Rafe, Topper, Sarah, and a few other Kooks were lounging around a table near the fire pit, drinks in hand, chatting casually. For the first time in weeks, Y/N felt at ease. There were no whispers, no judgment about her being with Rafe—only the people she cared about and a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in a long time.

Y/N had spent most of her time with Rafe over the past couple of weeks, getting to know him in a way she never had before. She had always known the confident, rebellious side of him, but she was starting to see the softer side—the one who cared deeply and would go to any lengths to protect the people he loved. They had spent lazy days by the beach, late-night drives, and spontaneous trips to places that weren't on any map. She was falling for him harder every day, but it wasn't just the physical attraction. It was the little things—how he cared about her, how he made her feel, how he treated her like she was everything. He had given her more than she could have ever imagined.

She glanced at Rafe as they laughed with Topper, Sarah, and the others, her hand naturally finding his under the table. Their fingers intertwined, and for a moment, she just savored the feeling of being with someone who made her feel seen, understood, and loved.

But as she was about to say something to Rafe, a familiar figure appeared in her peripheral vision. She stiffened. It was JJ.

JJ stormed over, his face a mixture of anger and desperation, his jaw clenched as he walked straight toward them. Y/N's heart skipped, not knowing what to expect. She knew this confrontation was coming—it was inevitable.

Rafe noticed it too, his hand tightening around Y/N's as JJ approached, but he didn't move. He didn't flinch. He stayed calm, but Y/N could see the subtle tension in his shoulders, his jaw tight as he prepared for whatever was coming.

"Y/N," JJ said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music. His eyes were frantic, scanning her face. "We need to talk."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, her grip on Rafe's hand tightening. She could feel the anger brewing inside her, but she was trying to keep her composure. Rafe gave her a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing the back of her hand gently.

"I don't think we need to talk, JJ," Y/N said coolly, her voice steady despite the boiling fury inside her. "But if you really need to hear it from me, I'll tell you. I definitely don't want to be with you anymore."

JJ's eyes widened, his face contorting in disbelief. "What the hell, Y/N?" He snapped, glancing at Rafe briefly, his expression turning hostile. "This isn't about him, is it? You don't really like him. You're just trying to get back at me for what I did. It's all a game to you, isn't it?" His voice wavered, a hint of panic creeping into his words.

Y/N could feel the heat rise in her chest, but she didn't back down. "It's not a game, JJ. It's not about you anymore. It's about me." She stood up, her voice booming over the music, silencing the chatter around them. People had stopped what they were doing, watching the confrontation unfold.

"You're such a horrible person," Y/N continued, her words sharp and cutting. "You broke me, JJ. You cheated on me with Kiara—our friend. You think I can just forget that? You think I'm some fool who's gonna let you walk back into my life after everything you did?" She took a step closer to him, her eyes locking onto his. "You humiliated me. And you have the audacity to stand here and beg for me back like nothing happened?"

The words tumbled out of her, each one heavier than the last, and with each syllable, Y/N felt like a weight was being lifted off her chest. She was finally letting him have it. All the hurt, all the frustration, the betrayal she had been carrying for weeks—it was all spilling out now, and she couldn't stop it.

"I wish I had gotten with Rafe sooner," she spat, her voice laced with venom. "Because with him, I know what it's like to be truly happy. He doesn't lie to me, he doesn't cheat on me. He shows me what love really is. What I've always deserved."

The group around them murmured, and she noticed Rafe's expression go from unreadable to... something else. He was staring at her, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. His face softened, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat. This was the first time she'd seen him like this—vulnerable, open, and completely in awe of her.

"Y/N..." JJ began, his voice faltering, but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

"Shut up, JJ," Y/N snapped, glaring at him. "I don't want to hear it anymore. You lost me the second you cheated. And now you're just proving how pathetic you are by begging me to take you back." She shook her head in disgust. "You don't deserve me. And you definitely don't deserve to have me back."

The words echoed in the air as Y/N turned her back on him, her chest heaving with emotion. She felt alive, empowered, and something else—something she hadn't felt in so long. Free.

The group erupted into cheers. Topper raised his drink in the air, Sarah clapped, and a few others cheered Y/N on. It was like she had just dropped a bomb, and the energy in the air shifted. The Kooks were no strangers to drama, but this felt different. This felt like the culmination of everything Y/N had been holding in.

Rafe didn't say anything at first. He just stared at her, wide-eyed, his face unreadable. And for a brief moment, Y/N wondered if she had gone too far. But then, without warning, Rafe stood up. He took her hand in his, pulling her gently away from the crowd, leading her toward the exit.

Y/N didn't say anything as she walked with him. She just wanted to get away from the scene, to take a breath and let the adrenaline settle in her chest. The confrontation had been messy, but it had been cathartic. She had finally stood up for herself, and in doing so, she felt like she had reclaimed something she thought she had lost forever.

When they reached Rafe's car, Y/N paused, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the scene. She turned to face him, her brows furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry for making such a scene back there," she said, her voice quieter now. "I just... I couldn't hold it in anymore."

Rafe looked at her, his expression softening, and before she could say anything else, he pulled her into a kiss.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, but she melted into it instantly. His lips were soft against hers, the kiss slow, deep, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt in that one moment. She kissed him back with equal intensity, the heat of the night surrounding them, but the only thing she could focus on was him—the way he made her feel.

When they pulled apart, Rafe rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily. "I've never had anyone defend me like that before," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "No one's ever stood up for me like that, Y/N."

Y/N's heart swelled, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a protective embrace. "I meant every word," she whispered. "I love you, Rafe. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Rafe's eyes softened, a smile tugging at his lips. "I love you too, Y/N." He kissed her again, a slow, lingering kiss that held all the unspoken things between them.

In that moment, Y/N knew. She had fought for herself. She had found her strength, and now, she had found her true love too.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a labour of love and i had SO much fun writing it and i’m so sorry it’s taken a while anon, i just wanted this to be PERFECT !! this has got to be in my top three faves that i’ve written and i hope it’s what you wanted <3

i’ve had this in my drafts (as well as a few more) from the past month of requests, and i’ve just been editing them all now (that’s the toughest part💔), but i’m getting there so thank you all for being so patient <3

[itgetsbetter]

On Trans Day of Remembrance, we honor the memory of those lost to anti-trans violence. We also asked our It Gets Better community what trans youth should remember, right here and right now. Here's what they said:

🏳️‍⚧️ "For my trans daughters and for every other trans person out there, You are perfect, perfectly perfect right now, in this messy moment, in this happy moment, in whatever moment comes next. You are loved by people you haven't even met yet. Do not get caught up in the hurt when there is so much joy to be found, do not let the noise hold you back, you are meant for greatness. For some greatness means waking up and having breakfast, going for a walk, doodling or thinking happy thoughts and that all in itself is great. Please believe me you are not alone." -lisasevajian

🏳️‍⚧️ "70 million people voted to protect your rights. You are valued. You are loved. Do not give up." -thethestralsociety

🏳️‍⚧️ "We have always been here, and we're not going anywhere anytime soon." -beansonofficial

🏳️‍⚧️ "You're seen. You're human. You are loved. You are not alone. Do not give up hope. You deserve all the best things in life and you should get to live them without fear, hate, guilt, harm, or silence." - destiny_d_melton

🏳️‍⚧️ "You are not alone even when it might feel that way. Things are hard and it can be so scary. But know that there are people who truly care who are fighting for you." -heatherand2girls

🏳️‍⚧️ "It gets better. Don’t give up. Gather the people you trust and support each other. You are a gift, you have a gift. Shine your light proudly and brightly. But know that you don’t need to. You are not responsible to change others perceptions or beliefs. You are loved, needed, and necessary." -michaeljohncreative

🏳️‍⚧️ "I love you so much and I will never cast you aside. You are NOT expendable." -fitnessvalkyrie

🏳️‍⚧️ "There is community out there for you always. Don't ever give up, we are here fighting with you." -transaffirmidaho

🏳️‍⚧️ "You only legally have to live with your bio family until you are 18, and then you can go make your own family. Also, high school only lasts 4 years. You can get through it!! It will be okay." -lisathecatdude

🏳️‍⚧️ "Keep going! As trans youth, we need to grow to be elders and to keep sharing our stories and to keep going!" -archer.39

🏳️‍⚧️ "Even in red states, you can find support and allies. We do care. Also, if you’re overwhelmed, it’s okay to focus on the community you feel safe with and take a mental break from advocating." - katseye325

🏳️‍⚧️ "We need you alive! You are our future. I made it to 29. You can be 29. My therapist is almost 60. You can be 60. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are our rights! You are seen, valued, heard, and loved." -Mr. Trans Indiana

🏳️‍⚧️ "Half this country still voted to support your rights! There are some loud voices spreading hate, but there’s so much more love out there. You have so much worth and value just being who you are. We’ll get through this and things will get better." -lady_hades_xiii

🏳️‍⚧️ "It will be worth it. All your struggle, all your pain. You’re going to get through this. It’s gonna be okay." -madd.0xx_

🏳️‍⚧️ "You are already role models to your peers, and to all the trans youth that come after you. You are the generation that will change the world, you already are the change the world needs…and your trans-aunty will always be here to support you, as my trans role models did for me. We are a family; dynamic, diverse, and inclusive: welcome to the family." -mxashleys

Read more and add your own here.

[hischierhoney]

I KNOW

Nico Hischier x Hughes sister!reader

• Off Limits Pt 2 • 6.2k words

Summary: Things between you and Nico are going well, but the two of you might not be as sneaky as you think.

Warnings: mild sexually suggestive content, 18+ MDNI

You don’t think he’s noticed yet. In all fairness, he’s pretty used to seeing you in a Devils jersey. It’s what you’d been wearing when the two of your first met, and most times you saw each other after that. Especially now that two of your brothers are on the team, you’re almost always wearing some form of NJD gear. This jersey is different, though.

Nico’s been at practice for most of the day. When you met him at his apartment, you'd taken the liberty of grabbing one of his jerseys from his closet and slid it over your head, and for good measure, ditched your pants, too. You’re waiting on the couch in nothing but the jersey, which he probably would’ve realized if he wasn’t so busy organizing all his gear, and telling you about the practice, and trying to eat a bit of the pasta you’d brought him all in the middle of it.

You see it when he notices, and you hear it, too. His talking stops, and his gaze freezes on you, on where you sit on the couch, bare legs crossed over each other. He blinks a couple times, and then his eyes grow even wider.

“Nice jersey,” he says, voice suddenly an octave lower.

You crane your neck to look down at the number 13 emblazoned across the shoulder and the captain’s C on the chest. “Oh. Had to rep my favorite player, you know.”

He nods, makes a sort of low humming noise. You just smile up at him, watching the way his cheeks flush. If you’d known it would have this effect on him, you’d have gotten yourself one of his jerseys a long time ago. Maybe before he even rescued you from that bar.

His gaze drags up and down your body. “Schatz.”

You cock your head and blink softly. “Yeah, Nico?”

He sets his plate down on the coffee table. It’s still half full of pasta. You watch him with soft eyes as he takes a few steps towards you, lips barely parted. He beckons you towards him with two bent fingers. You go without even thinking twice, up off the couch in seconds, the jersey falling to your mid thigh.

When you’re within arm’s reach, his hands come up to hold your shoulders, rubbing up and down gently. His eyes are all over you.

“Did you steal this from my closet?” He asks.

You nod, chewing on your lower lip. “Hope that’s okay.”

Nico rumbles out a laugh. He shakes his head, and then he brushes his lips against your temple, down the crest of your cheek, and against your jaw. He takes a couple steps, turns slightly, and then spins you around in his grip, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back tight against his front. You gasp at the maneuver, and your eyes flicker up to his reflection in the floor length mirror in front of you.

He’s not looking at you. Instead, his eyes are on your upper back- his last name, across your shoulders, you realize.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours. Your face is hot, the rest of your skin getting there, too. There’s a look on his face- a mix of awe and affection and attraction. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear and takes a deep breath.

“It’s more than okay,” he says. One of his hands slips down to your bare thigh, toying with the hem of the jersey. “You should keep it on.”

You lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder, never breaking eye contact in the mirror. “Yeah?”

He nods, and his hand slips up your thigh so he can squeeze your bare hip. He raises his eyebrows when he finds nothing there- no fabric, no underwear. You raise your eyebrows right back.

“But you’d better find some pants,” he says, nipping lightly at your jaw, “‘cause we’re going on a date.”

He’s gone within seconds, leaving you reeling. Your heart is racing, chest heaving, and he’s just- gone. You look at your reflection in bewilderment.

“What?” You call after him, turning around. “Nico, where are you going? What are-“

He pops his head out from around the hallway corner, and his cheeks are red and rosy. You almost stumble towards him, but something makes you stay planted there. Maybe this was too much. Maybe you’re coming on too strong.

“We’re going on a date,” he repeats. “Keep the jersey, find some pants. I’m taking a quick shower.”

You blink at him. “You just showered. Your hair is wet. You’re being weird.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Yes. I’m taking a cold shower. The jersey worked, schatz, but I have a date planned for us.”

Then he disappears. You hear the shower kick on a few seconds later, and the shocked yelp that follows. You turn back to the mirror and laugh at your reflection.

20 minutes later, you’re in his car. He’s freshly showered, and you’re wearing his jersey and a pair of leggings. He has his hand on your thigh, like he always does any chance he gets, away from prying eyes. You rest your hand on top of his and run your fingers over the veins. Five minutes out from your very secretive date- he hasn’t given you any details- he tells you to close your eyes.

“C’mon, it’s a surprise,” he says, squeezing your leg.

“But Nico-“

He laughs and lifts his hand, placing it over your eyes. You squeal and try to pull it away, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than you, keeps your vision covered. You whine about it the whole way, but he just teases you the entire time.

When the car rolls to a stop, he leans close and whispers in your ear, “keep your eyes closed for me?”

You squeeze them shut tighter than you ever have before. He opens his door and shuts it, then opens your door and pulls you out of the car. You laugh the entire walk, as he keeps his hands on your hips and leads you in. There’s a squeaky, heavy sounding door, echoing footsteps on tile floors, and nothing but the darkness of your eyelids. And then- cold.

“Are we at the rink?” You ask, stopping in your tracks.

He groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “How the fuck did you figure that out?”

You laugh and reach blindly for his face, pinching his cheek lightly. “Nico, all of my brothers play hockey. I know ice rinks.”

He sighs heavily. You turn around in his arms and open your eyes, face to face with him. His gaze is soft and warm even though he’s pouting.

“Why are we here?” You ask.

He shrugs. “You said… after the family skate you mentioned how you wished we could’ve skated together. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So. I thought we could have our own skate.”

You swear you melt into a puddle, right there at his feet. “Oh. Wow. That’s-“

You lose the ability to say anything other than the words that have been stuck on your tongue for weeks now- I love you. He just kisses your cheek and drags you away to the locker room. Within a few minutes, you’re stepping out into the arena as he turns the lights on. They shine down on the empty rink. You’ve almost never been in here when it’s empty like this. It feels strange. You’re used to being a part of the roaring crowd, used to cheering on the team from the sidelines.

Nico helps you lace up your skates, and then he walks you out to the ice, so carefully it makes your chest feel tight.

“I know how to skate,” you tell him.

“I know,” he says, kissing your temple.

Despite that, he keeps his hands on you when you get out on the ice. You know it’s not about making sure you don’t fall, and you think back to dates when you were a teenager, boys suggesting ice skating because they thought it’d be an easy excuse to hold your hand. You’d skated circles around all of them. But Nico’s a professional hockey player, and you want to hold his hand, so you let him take both of yours in his, facing each other, and you smile when he starts to skate backwards and pulls you along.

He’s so at home here. You’ve seen it when you watch the games, but it’s more obvious now, watching the way his face lights up as he skates. It’s so endearing, and it makes you feel warm from the inside out. This is his thing, and you get to share it with him, at least for a little while.

He spins the both of you in a circle and glides to a stop. You bump into his chest and laugh, pulling your hands from his to wrap your arms around his middle. He laughs, too, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“This is nice,” you say. “You know, when I was a kid, the boys made me be the goalie.”

Nico snorts out a laugh. “Were you any good?”

You shake your head and sigh. “They’d put me in a fucking dirtbike helmet, and I was too small for any of the pads and they smelled bad, so they’d tie pillows around me, and… yeah. I was a bad goalie.”

“Why’d you let them?” He asks, sounding mildly concerned.

You shrug. “I was being a supportive sister.”

He laughs and pulls away just slightly, holding you at arms length. His hands slip from your sides and come up to cup your face, and then he kisses you, warm and sweet and gentle, like he always is at first with you. He tucks your hair behind your ear as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and pressing against yours. Suddenly, despite the ice and the cold, you’re burning up. He tends to have that effect.

He pulls away sooner than you’d really want him to, but you let him go. There’s plenty of time for more of that. He pulls away fully and stands next to you on the ice, looking down the rink.

“Race me?” He asks.

“That’s so not fair,” you grumble.

“I’ll give you a head start,” he suggests.

You narrow your eyes at him, and then without even thinking, you take off across the ice. He’s hot on your heels within seconds, but the quick takeoff is enough to buy you a few precious seconds. You only lose by a couple feet when both of you slide to a stop at the other end of the rink, laughing so hard neither of you can stand up straight. He skates towards you and sweeps you up off the ice, wrapping his arms around your middle and spinning as you cling onto him and laugh even harder.

The happiness is bubbling up in your chest, and it feels nearly overwhelming. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with someone who makes you feel like this- happy and carefree and fun, and like you can be all those things without worrying about what he’s going to think. He sets you down carefully on the ice and pulls your back to his front, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He points up into the stands, at a row of seats that looks familiar. “There’s your seat,” he says, the words washing over the skin of your neck.

Your breath catches in your chest. Your seat isn’t a front row one- it’s pretty far up in the arena. From the ice, it looks far away and tiny. You’re not sure you’d be able to spot yourself all the way up there, let alone when it’s crowded with people and the ice is busy, when there are so many people clamoring for attention.

“You know my seat?” You mumble, pressing one of your hands over his.

“Mhm,” he says. He takes your hand in his, raises it and points towards the seat. “Right there, right? Under the screen. I always wave.”

He does. And not just since you started dating- you can remember your second ever Devil’s game, watching him glide around on the ice, and the way he paused in your corner and waved. The same spot, every game you’re at.

You nod. “Yeah. I just. I thought that was just you saying hi to the crowd.”

He laughs and kisses the side of your neck softly. “Next time, I’ll blow you a kiss or something so you know it’s for you. Maybe flip you off. Stick my tongue out. You’ll know it when you see it.”

You nod in agreement and turn around to face him. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, and that’s when you hear it.

“Hello?” A voice calls out.

Nico swears in German under his breath and then pulls you close, until you’re right against him, your face hidden against his shoulder. For a moment, you panic- you’re wearing your jersey, whoever it is will see your last name- except it’s not your jersey, it’s Nico’s.

Nico swears again, then calls out, “Just me, Jesper!”

“Nico?” Jesper calls back, sounding confused.

You hear footsteps, and Nico sighs. He keeps your face pressed into his chest, one hand on the back of your head. You’re fighting hard not to laugh. The footsteps slow, then stop, and Nico lifts one hand from your shoulder to wave.

“Oh, Hischier, you’re in trouble,” his teammate teases, whistling lowly.

“What, you gonna tattle on me for sneaking into the rink when you’re doing the same exact thing?” He asks.

“I’m not sneaking in, I saw your car outside and came to check on you,” his teammate says. “And I know a Hughes when I see one.”

You feel the rumble of Nico’s groan in his chest, and a giggle slips past your lips. You try to pull away, but he holds you tightly to his chest. You’re the one grumbling now.

“Lemme go, he already knows,” you huff.

“He has no proof, baby,” he says.

“Don’t need proof,” Jesper calls out.

“Shut up!” Nico calls back.

“Tell me to shut up again and I’ll call Jack!” He says back. You groan. “Or! You know what, I think I’ve got Quinn’s number-“

“No!” Both you and Nico yell, as he finally lets you go and you both spin to face Jesper.

Jesper laughs, doubling over on the edge of the rink, shaking his head. You falter a bit on your skates, and quick as a whip, Nico slips his arms under yours to hold you up. You grumble, but you’d rather not faceplant on the ice, so you let it go.

“Oh, he’s gonna kill you,” Jesper says, still laughing.

“Which one?” Nico asks.

“All three,” he responds, finally standing up to look at the two of you. “Team effort, probably.”

You sigh, though you know it’s probably true. Nico squeezes your side affectionately. You wonder what the look on his face is right now. You turn over your shoulder and you’re met with nothing but affection, even in the face of his teammate’s threats.

“Don’t worry,” Jesper says. “I’m not gonna tell ‘em.”

You hold your breath. Behind you, Nico’s doing the same.

“He’s had a crush on you for ages,” Jesper says, and Nico groans, loudly, and buries his face against your shoulder blade. “I’m proud, honestly. Never thought he’d get the balls. And maybe this means you’ll finally stop third wheeling my dates, huh?”

“Okay, goodbye,” Nico says, as he starts to skate backwards and pulls you with him. “We’re having a date, you know.”

Jesper makes a face at him. You know Nico’s making one back. He waves, though, and walks away, headed for the exit. Nico sighs happily and pulls you closer to himself. In the empty arena, your heart feels full.

…..

Nico leaves for a road game the next week, and you whine about it the whole time he’s packing. He whines right back, about how your whining makes it harder to leave, which you remind him is sort of the point.

“You’re supposed to be a supportive girlfriend,” he says, teasingly.

You pout. “I’m very supportive. I go to all your games. So really, it’s about time you missed one to support me.”

It’s not the first away game he’s had, nor will it be the last. It’s just hitting you hard this time. You think it has something to do with the way you look at him and think, oh, I love you, every time. It’s making your chest ache.

He rolls his eyes playfully and juts his lower lip out. “Oh yeah? Should I put in a text to the team group chat? Sorry boys, can’t go, my girlfriend is pouting. And then they’ll say, ‘you have a girlfriend?’ and-“

“Obviously I don’t mean it,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “But I’m gonna miss you.”

He leans over the edge of the bed where you’re sitting, hands braced on either side of your hips. He’s suddenly so close, and your breath catches in your chest. He smirks.

“I know,” he says. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

He lifts a hand to your side and pushes- you fall back against the bed easily. You’d had your legs crossed, but they unravel and fall to either side of his hips as if on reflex as he looms over you. He rubs his large hands smoothly up your thighs, over your sides, and then he rests them on the bed, on either side of your head, caging you in. You’re warm all over, suddenly.

“You’re not done packing,” you whisper, tugging a stray t-shirt from under your head.

He leans close, runs his nose along your jaw, and sighs. “Mm. Packing can wait.”

You frown. “You said-“ you’re interrupted when he presses a soft kiss to your jaw, then nips at the same spot with his teeth. You reach up and tangle your hand in his messy hair. “-said you wanted to pack early-“

“Yeah, that was stupid,” he grumbled. “How the fuck am I expected to pack when you’re sitting so pretty right here?”

You scoff. “Nico-“

He lets out a noise of dissent, reaches down, and takes both of your hands in one of his. Then he pins them above your head, squeezing softly. You choke on your breath. He pulls away, warm brown eyes on yours, and you swear you’re melting.

“Is that okay?” He asks, quietly.

“Please?” You answer, voice cracking on the word.

He laughs and ducks his head back to your neck. “That’s my girl.”

An hour later, he’s less packed than he was when he started, because he’s gone digging through his suitcase to find you a hoodie to wear after he took your clothes off of you. You tell him he’s being ridiculous. He just smiles, kisses your forehead, and pulls you into his arms. You fall asleep with the suitcase still on the bed.

…..

He calls you from the hotel the first night he’s there, after he gets off the plane and has dinner with the team and gets settled. You’re definitely not sitting in bed, staring at your phone, waiting eagerly. Well. Not as far as he knows. When it buzzes on the comforter, screen lit up with his face, you let it ring three times before swiping to answer so you don’t seem crazy. You’re so casual about this.

“Hi,” you breathe, and you know you’ve failed miserably at casual with just one syllable.

“Hi, baby,” he laughs down the line. You can almost hear the smile in his voice.

Warmth curls through you, and you snuggle farther into the blankets. “How was the trip?”

He launches into a story about TSA and the plane ride. You’re happy just to listen to him talk. His voice is warm and affectionate, even as he describes all the frustrating parts of travel. You can’t help but think that he has such a nice voice. He’s so nice to listen to- you’d let him just talk for hours, if you could. You love to hear him tell you stories, mumble things in your ear while you’re watching movies on the couch, love listening to the inflection of his words when he reads you a recipe for whatever the two of you are making for dinner. You love him. As he starts talking about the stupid decision his coach has made, your mind drifts further, to thoughts of his lips against your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him, how good you feel, how-

“Schatz,” he says, almost teasingly. “You okay?”

“Hm?” You ask.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he says. The tone he takes makes your spine tingle. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” You try to take a silent, deep breath. “Yeah, just… you know. I’m fine. Just miss you.”

You almost hope he’ll drop it, because you’re slightly embarrassed, really. He’ll probably think you’re crazy.

“I miss you too,” he says, and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief. Then he adds, “now tell me what’s got you so distracted.”

“Nico,” you hum, trying desperately to come up with an excuse.

He clears his throat. “Did I ever tell you I love it when you say my name like that?”

You press your hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sharp intake of air. He lets out a rumble of a laugh, one that carries over the phone and washes down your spine, leaving you buzzing. Oh, he knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing. You’re caught now.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking about all day.”

You melt further back into the bed and close your eyes. “You just. You have a nice voice. I like your voice.”

“Not as nice as yours,” he says. Your skin grows hotter. “You sound so pretty. So sweet.”

With nothing but the backs of your eyelids in your vision, surrounded by soft blankets and sheets and the sound of his voice, you start to feel like you’re floating. “Nico,” you repeat. He laughs.

“You nice and cozy, baby?” He asks, voice dropping an octave and lighting up your every nerve. “Bet you’re all curled up in bed in your shorts and a hoodie, huh?”

You nod before you remember he can’t see you. “Mhm.”

“Fuck, I miss you,” he says. “It’s only been a day and I miss it. If I was there, I’d-“

He pauses, or cuts himself off, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter. You’re waiting with bated breath, chest tight, burning up with your eyes squeezed shut. You turn your head and breathe in, deep. The smell of him is still stuck to your sheets. You could cry.

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks. “I’ll help you, alright, honey? You just be good for me.”

You nod frantically, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah, Nico. I’ll be good.”

“I know,” he says. His voice drops another octave when he says, “what hoodie are you wearing?”

“Yours,” you whine.

He rumbles out a laugh. “That’s my girl. Leave it on, but take the shorts off. Underwear, too. Gonna make yourself feel good for me.”

You shove the aforementioned pieces of clothing off, almost frantically. When you’re done following his instructions, you catch the hint of a familiar sound. His hand, slick and wet, moving over himself. Stars are already dancing behind your eyelids at the thought of it. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take much more.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

I love you, you think. You wonder if he’s thinking it too.

You fall asleep afterwards with the phone call still going, and his soft snores soundtrack your dreams.

…..

When he calls the next night, the conversation is starkly different.

“Jack’s mad at me,” he says.

You frown, pausing your kitchen counter scrubbing. “Why d’you think that?”

Nico sighs. “Because he’s hasn’t talked to me for a whole day. And during practice he checked me into the wall.”

“I mean, maybe he’s not mad at you, maybe he’s just mad in general,” you suggest.

You can almost see the look on his face when he groans. It’s a bit scary that you know him so well, that you can picture the furrow in his brows and the soft pout of his lips.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” You ask. “I can see what’s going on.”

“If you ask why he’s mad at me he’ll know I told you,” Nico points out. “Which would be suspicious.”

You hum. “Yeah, I guess. It’s Jack, I’m sure it’s fine. He’s just a brat sometimes.”

Nico snorts out a laugh. “Must run in the family.”

You try to act mad, grumbling into the phone, but you can’t help but laugh. He follows suit. You love the sound of his laugh more than nearly anything in the world, you’ve found. It’s a terrifying, exciting feeling.

…..

A few nights later, you’re in your car, parked down the street from the rink. You have the lights off, and you’re ducked low behind the dash, praying nobody looks your way. You’d picked your parking spot specifically based on avoiding the route Jack and Luke always take to get home, and you’re praying they don’t notice your car.

Other cars start to roll out of the parking lot. You watch carefully, peeking over the hood and looking in your mirrors. You have an excuse, if they catch you, but it’s not foolproof, and there’s the added worry that one of their teammates will spot you and ask them about it. It’s risky. But…

Nico’s been gone for what feels like forever, even if it was only a few days. You’ve missed him terribly. So you offered to pick him up, and when he agreed without question and told you how much he’d missed you, too, you’d set the plan into motion. Now you’re here, so focused on the exit from the rink parking lot that you don’t notice the guy next to your car until he knocks on your window.

You scream, then immediately slap your hand over your mouth. It’s Jesper, again, of course it is- he’s leaning on the window and grinning like he’s entertained by it all, and you groan.

You roll the window down and hiss, “Jesus, man, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry!” He says, still smiling.

“S’fine,” you grumble. “If you saw me then my brothers will too, I should probably move.”

“No, that’s why I came to get you. I knew you’d be here, Nico mentioned it,” He explains. “He is arguing with your brothers in the locker room. Mostly Jack.”

You groan and rest your head against the steering wheel. “Of course he is.”

Jesper lets you into the building, and you wander the halls until you make it to the locker room. You can hear them arguing before you get to the door- clipped words and snappy tones. Whatever Jack’s been mad at Nico about must’ve boiled over. You decide to break in before you overhear too much, worried about hearing something you shouldn’t.

“Hello?” You call out from the doorway.

Nico turns to look at you, and your brothers follow suit. They’re scattered through the locker room- Nico’s standing in the middle, Jack’s in front of his cubby on the bench, Luke is standing in a corner. You make eye contact with all of them separately- Luke looks like a deer caught in the headlights, Jack is so angry his cheeks are flaming up, and Nico…

Nico meets your eyes and smiles, soft and warm, and if either of your brothers even spared a glance at him, you think they’d know. Or maybe, this is just how he’s always looked at you. Your heart squeezes in your chest, and you want nothing more than to run over and throw yourself into his arms. You stay put, even as he looks you up and down. Suddenly, you wish you were wearing his jersey instead of your normal Hughes one, just to see his eyes light up.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks, gently.

He’s being nice. Almost too nice. Jack is almost never unkind to you, but he’s your brother- annoying most times, a pest all the time. The tone he’s taking with you is abnormal- he shouldn’t be so nice about you showing up here.

“Oh. I, uh, was gonna surprise you guys and see if you wanted to grab dinner or something,” you say, shrugging. “And then Jesper found me in my car and said you guys were arguing, and that maybe I should break it up.”

Jack huffs and whirls back around to glare at Nico. “You’ve got Bratter covering for you?”

You look at your brother with wide eyed confusion. Luke groans and drags a hand down his face. Nico, for his part, also looks confused.

“Jack, I-“ he tries.

“No,” Jack interrupts. He turns back to you and points. “You, me and Luke will go out for dinner. Okay? I’ll meet you outside.”

“Jack-“ Nico tries again.

“Shut up,” Jack snaps.

You need information. You need the full story. And when that’s what you’re looking for, you look to Luke. He’s the youngest, and he’s a tattletale.

“Lukey,” you start, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Jack opens his mouth. You hold your hand up to him. He groans, but he stays quiet. Nico’s staring at you, entranced. Jack has always been so overprotective, and Luke, too, that you’re sure sometimes it’s easy to forget that you’re actually their older sister. That is, until now.

Luke sighs, heavily. “You and Nico are dating.” You raise your brows and gesture for him to continue. “And. Um. He had a girl in his room Tuesday night.”

Part of this makes sense. Of course they’re upset with Nico. They’ve figured out that the two of you are together, which Jack had explicitly said was not allowed. However, you’d always sort of figured that when they found out, they’d drop the overprotective act. They both love Nico, and they both want to see you happy, right?

Then you realize what the second half of what Luke said means- they think Nico cheated on you. You turn to look at your boyfriend, already knowing it’s not true for a variety of reasons, most important of all the fact that you were on the phone with him on Tuesday night. He’s giving you a pleading look, like he’s trying to convince you it’s not true, even though you didn’t believe it for a second.

You blink, then frown, then tilt your head. “No, he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jack pipes up, shoulders drooping. “Someone said they heard… noises. Of a sexual variety.”

Nico groans and buries his face in his hands. Meanwhile, you start to laugh, unable to help it now. Jack makes a noise of confusion.

“Jack,” you say, between giggles. “There are other things people can do, rather than just straight up sex, like maybe talking over the phone…”

Your brothers are silent for a moment. Then Luke groans, loudly, and covers his ears. He swings around and looks at Nico with wide eyes, then closes his eyes tightly. Jack, meanwhile, flops backwards against the wall and covers his face in his hands. Nico’s face is red. It’s not exactly how you would’ve chosen to tell them, but… it gets the point across.

“Please never say that to me again,” Jack says. “Actually, if you never say the word sex in my presence I’ll be happy.”

You roll your eyes and turn to Nico, shrugging lightly. Despite all of it, he’s still smiling at you. He looks so soft, in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, hair an unbelievable mess. You have a strong urge to run your fingers through it. Jack lets out another noise of distress, and you turn back to him.

“You asked,” you tell your brother.

“No, I did not!” He snaps. “Excuse me for being worried, I thought you were being cheated on.”

“You really think that little of me?” Nico finally pipes in, looking at his friend.

Jack pulls his hands from his face and turns to look at Nico. He sighs heavily, frowning. Nico keeps staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“No. I don’t know. I…” he sighs again. “At worst, I really thought maybe you guys just weren’t exclusive, and that was…” he turns to look at you, and jerks his head in a little nod. “Jesus, you’ve had a crush on him for forever, we all knew it, and I told him you were off limits, so then I was worried that I was the reason he was maybe seeing someone else, too, and…”

You see Nico relax at that, shoulders loosening. You’re sure it must’ve been a tough feeling, to have one of his good friends assume something like that. You’re a bit relieved, too.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah. I heard. How about we agree no more of you deciding things like my dating life for me?”

Jack nods solemnly. Nico raises his hand.

“But you are officially off limits,” he says. You smirk and roll your eyes, and he smiles brightly at you. “Right?”

“Right,” you agree. “But by my own choice.”

He grins at you, and your heart skips a beat again.

“Can we buy you guys dinner to apologize?” Jack asks.

You shrug. “Maybe another day. We have plans.”

Nico nods and stands up, headed for you. He turns to his teammates. “We good?”

“Yeah, man,” Jack says. He narrows his eyes, and you fight not to roll yours, because you know what’s coming next. “But if you hurt her-“

“I know,” Nico says, warmly.

Jack nods. Behind him, Luke raises his hand, a look of concern on his face.

“So. When do we tell Quinn?” He asks.

You, Nico, and Jack exchange a look.

“Maybe never,” Jack says.

“I’m fine with that,” Nico winces.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Need to know basis.”

Nico follows you out of the room and down the hall. He slips his hand into yours as soon as you’re out of sight of your brothers. You could remind him he doesn’t have to wait now, that he doesn’t have to hide it, but you think maybe it’s for the best until things settle down. The two of you are quiet as you walk out to the car, and you huddle close to him at the chill of the night air. The car isn’t far, and the parking lot is empty. He reaches into your jacket pocket and snags your keys- you’ve learned that he hates to let you drive, not because he thinks you’re bad at it, but because he likes driving you around. It’s quite sweet, really, so you let him get in the driver’s seat as you climb into the car.

He pauses once he’s turned it on, and he looks over at you. “You said we have plans? Are we going somewhere?”

You laugh and reach up to cup the side of his face in your hand. He leans into your touch.

“Wherever you want,” you say, quietly. “Just wanted it to be me and you.”

He smiles slowly. It spreads across his face like molasses. Your heart skips a beat in your chest.

“You know I love you?” He says, like it’s so, so obvious. Like he’s just checking, just to make sure.

You nod, because you think you did know, that maybe you’ve known it since you started feeling it too. “Yeah. I know. I love you, too.”

…

You're on the phone with Quinn, nearly a week later, when you slip up. He asks what you’ve been up to, what you did the past week, if your brothers are giving you trouble.

“I’ve just been busy with work,” you tell him. “But Nico and I went to a really cute restaurant last night. I had the best seafood pasta.”

You don’t even realize what you’ve just said. You just wait for Quinn to answer, and you’re met with silence. He coughs, like he’s holding back a laugh.

“Did you mean to tell me that?” He asks, and your stomach drops.

“Fuck!”

Quinn laughs down the line, and your face grows warm. You’d forgotten- Luke and Jack know now, so it feels less like something you need to hide. But Quinn didn’t know, and Quinn is overprotective, and shit, fuck-

“I already knew. I’ve known since your first date,” he admits, and you feel your own face morph into confusion.

“How?”

“I never reveal my sources,” he answers. “But I knew something was up when he took you home from the bar and had you stay the night.”

“You’re all such gossips,” you grumble. “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew?”

He makes a noncommittal noise. “Honestly, it’s been fun to watch all of you dance around it. Once I figured out that Jack also knew, I figured he was keeping an eye on it close enough. Also… he seems like a good enough guy. Of all the hockey guys you could’ve picked, he’s up there, you know?”

You smile softly. “I really love him, Quinn.”

“Gross,” Quinn says. “But I’m happy for you.”

You look over to the front door, where Nico’s just walked in. “Yeah. I know. Hey, I gotta go.”

Your older brother sighs heavily. “Tell Hischier I said hi,” he grumbles. “And that if he hurts you-“

“He knows,” you say.

Across the kitchen, Nico smiles softly. You hang up the phone and melt into his arms.

“Bad day,” you say. “Missed you.”

“I know,” he says. “Missed you too.”

a:/n: thanks for reading! also happy b-day cece!!

[patscorner]

Kk or Emily defending her girlfriend from toxic fans?

Maybe on live or in person

on it!

I'M ALL YOURS

Summary: After an amazing game, you, your girlfriend, and the team go out to celebrate. But, it doesn’t go as you wished.

wc: 1,479

contains: slight angst, fluff

______________________________

“Careful, ma, that’s shot number 3.” Emily informs you, her hand squeezing your thigh. You roll your eyes, before putting your hand on top of hers.

“Relax, baby, we’re celebrating! You should have another.” you smile.

The Mystics had just beat New York Liberty in a double overtime, so obviously, the team went out to celebrate their win. The game was close, the Mystics only winning by a half court buzzer beater from Brittney Sykes.

So after all the press and interviews, the team made their way to a nearby bar. “I would, but one of us has to be sober.” She laughs, sipping her drink. You shake your head and sip your drink as well. After having a conversation with your girlfriend for a while, you decide that you want to dance, so you drag Emily off of her stool and onto the dance floor.

It’s not super crowded, but there were enough people to where you were always shoulder-to-shoulder with someone. You and Emily dance to the music, her hands on your waist as you let the alcohol take over. Eventually, you get tired, and Emily guides your unsteady body back over to the bar, asking the bartender to give you some water.

As you chug the water, a girl comes up to Emily.

“Hi! Are you Emily Engstler?” she asks excitedly. Emily smiles at her, and nods.

“Oh my god. Okay, can I please get a picture, I literally love you so much.” You’re no stranger to people asking for a picture with Emily, because well, she is a basketball star. So, at first this interaction is normal, and you see no reason to intervene. Until the girl offers to buy Emily a drink.

“I mean, if you want to, of course.” The girl says when she notices Emily’s hesitance. You’re listening now, awaiting Emily’s response.

“Uh, no, thank you. I’ve got a girlfriend.” Emily said, motioning to you with her head. The girl looked around Emily and you waved. She frowned, looking back at Emily.

“Her?” she asked with her eyebrows raised. Emily furrows her eyebrows, looking back at you, and you’ve glaring at the girl with a stare that could kill her.

“Yes, me. Is there a fucking problem?” you ask, standing up off of your stool, causing Emily to look at you worriedly.

The girl scoffs, looking at you up and down, seemingly amused by your size. You're on the shorter side, and not the buffest person on earth, but you had a mouth and a temper. “No, babe, I just thought Emily here would have better taste, but-” She looks at you up and down again. “I guess I was wrong.”

Emily stands up now, before you can react. She knew you could hold your ground but she did not want to wait until you had to. She’d rather shut it down now, and avoid the press and interviews.

“I think it’s best if you walk away. “ She spoke at the girl, her voice flat, lacking any sympathy. She hated having to be mean to fans except for when they openly disrespect her girl. The girl scoffs, and makes one big mistake.

“Ugh, I should’ve known. All you basketball players are fucking assholes. You guys aren’t even that good of a team. I hope you tear your ACL or some shit.” she then turns to you. “And you. I want you to know that pretty doesn’t know your fucking name. Your main concern should be someone trying to steal the beautiful, but unfortunate bitch you call your girlfriend. Maybe instead of being jealous when someone offers to buy your girl a drink, be flattered, and maybe attempt to live through her, because you sure as hell won’t have to worry about it.”

And with that she turned around and stormed out of the party. Emily starts after her, but you grab her arm, and she looks down at you. “Don’t. Don’t worry about it.”

“But, baby, she-”

“I know.” you say, sadness lingering in your voice. Maybe it was the alcohol, but for some reason, that girl’s rant got to you more than it should’ve. While you know most of it was jealousy and embarrassment on her end, you couldn’t help but doubt yourself. Was she right? Were you not good enough for Emily, like she implied?

“Just-let it go.” you smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, and Emily noticed. You felt your skin grow hot, and an ache behind your eyes. You clear your throat. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

“Ma-” Emily starts to follow you, but you stop her.

“I just need a minute, Emily. I’ll be right back.” She stops in her tracks and opens her mouth to speak. “Okay. I love you.” she whispers quietly, but loud enough for you to hear over the music. “I love you too.”

You turn around and head to the bathroom. It quickly became your place of solitude as you broke in tears. You don’t know why you were crying, possibly the initial shock of it all wearing off. Or maybe because deep down, you had your own insecurities about yourself, and how you were seen by the public. It shouldn’t matter or affect you, but it does.

Emily had made sure she kept you off of social media, or at least that side of it, knowing how toxic it could be. But that doesn’t matter if the fans came up to you in real life, like tonight.

You hear someone knock on the door, and decide it was time to fix yourself up. “Be out soon!” you call out. After you wipe away your runny mascara, you fix your hair, (that was messed up from you running your hand through it), you open the door.

On the other side is Shakira and Didi, who noticed your botched makeup and disheveled hair. “Hi- oh, shit, are you okay?” You nod unconvincingly, before pushing past them. The girls share an unconvinced look, and turn around to watch you leave the bar.

You don’t know how long you’ve been outside, but you do know you’ve been through 4 cigarettes. You’ve been sitting in silence for a while, letting your thoughts consume you. You don’t even notice when Emily comes and sits down next to you. You only make notice of her when she takes the cigarette from your mouth.

You don’t look at her, but you hear her shoe stomp it out on the cement. She scoots closer to you but doesn’t touch you. She knows how fragile you are, and how you hate crying in public, so she opted out of being the bend that breaks the camera’s back.

“You know she’s wrong, right.” she finally speaks, softly.

You don’t acknowledge her, just continue staring at the passing cars. You hear her, but you don’t have the energy to speak.

“Right?” she whispers. The softness of her voice isn’t something that’s uncommon for you, but to everyone else, it’d seem unusual. But Emily was comfortable enough around you to let her guard down. She was a big softie.

You let your head hang as you feel the tears start to fall from your eyes. Emily gives in and reaches for your hand.

“No one means more to me than you do. You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Emily sighs as you remain silent. “Look at me.”

When you don’t answer, she gently grabs your chin and forces your eyes on hers. You sniffle and close your eyes as tears fall down your face.

“Oh, baby.” she whispers, cupping your face and using her thumbs to wipe your tears. Finally, you let a broken sob escape your throat.

Emily pulls you into a hug, shushing you as you break down in her arms. “Shh, ma, I know. I know. It’s okay.” she rubs her hands up and down your back. “You can’t let ‘em get to you, baby. There’s always gonna be someone that has some shit to say.”

She pulls away, and wipes your cheeks once again. “And as for me, I’m not going anywhere. I’m all yours, and you’re mine. Nothing anyone says is gonna change that. Understand?”

You nod and she pulls you into a soft loving kiss. “Can we go home, please?” you whisper as you pull away. Emily smiles sadly and nods.

After that night, Emily posted on her story, calling out the girl who approached her that night (who you later find out has done the same thing with a lot of other teams).

Even though you have your doubts about yourself, there’s no doubt in your mind that Emily loves you. No matter what anyone else says, she’d love you regardless. No amount of stuck up bitches would change that.

She was yours, and you were hers.

______________________________

taglist: @bueckerslover @wintersstan @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @breeloveschris

[judesmoonbeauty]

Once More, An Evil From Which You Can't Return Part 2: Jude Jazza Chapter

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

I lost my memories and was feeling down about it…..

Every time I experienced the kindness of everyone at Crown, I felt more and more that things couldn't continue like this.

Kate: I can't stay depressed like this forever, so I'm going to try to actively recover my memories.

Kate: So…. I want everyone to try as much as possible to behave the same way they did before I lost my memories.

(If I continue to live the same life, eat the same foods, go to the same places as before...)

(Then just maybe I’ll recall something.)

—That was Roger’s suggestion.

Kate: I know it’s troublesome…but I’d really appreciate your help!

Victor: Kate….!!! How brave and commendable! Let’s all work together everyone!

Everyone in Crown nodded their heads in agreement, but it was still too early to feel relieved.

Jude:…..Fine, but I got somethin’ t’say.

(I knew it….I figured Jude would be the only one unwilling to cooperate…)

Jude: If ya say ya want thin’s like they were b’fore….

(...I'm sure I'll be subjected to some pretty nasty abuse or snide comments.)

Thinking that, I braced myself—

Jude: Then I’ll treat ya like a lover.

Kate: What….?

[Transitions to Common Room]

Kate: Jude…..are you sure this is correct?

Jude: Y’think I'm wrong? Yer gutsy.

Kate: ……

I want to say quite loudly that this is wrong.

Because right now….I am fearfully sitting on Jude’s lap.

This seems to be a part of what Jude was talking about as being treated like a lover.

Jude: ‘Fore ya lost yer memory, ya seemed happy t’get on it.

Kate: I…..don’t remember.

(Jude said he was my boyfriend.....is that really true?)

As I sat on his lap in confusion, he offered me a piece of chocolate.

Jude: Kate, open yer mouth.

Kate: Ah, yes……Hngh.

Jude: Tasty?

Kate: It’s tasty……

But what captivates me more than the sweet taste of chocolate is, the unusually soft smile on Jude’s face….

(Just what did I do before I lost my memory to make Jude turn out like this...?)

After that, Jude invites me out and takes me to his company, Raven Ltd.

Jude: Look familiar?

Kate: No, it doesn’t…..

Apparently as a fairytale keeper, I would visit this place when I had business with Ellis and Jude.

(I would wait for them to finish work, and then go back to Crown with them….)

But even with listening to such stories, I still can’t remember anything.

Jude: …….Well, ain’t like I had expectations.

His profile looked a bit lonely as he muttered, and my heart shook a little.

Jude: Wait ‘ere a bit.

Kate: Sure. Where are you going Jude…?

Jude: Work ‘course. This’s a business.

At that moment, a lively voice echoed from the other side of the hall...

Cheerful Young Man: Kaaaaaate!

Jude: Chat with that guy.

Kate: Huh? Wait, Jude.

As Jude leaves, a cheerful young man approaches.

Cheerful Young Man: Kate, I heard ya got amnesia, are ya okay?!

Kate: I’m sorry to worry you. Umm, what’s your name?

Theodore: Oh, sorry. I’m Theodore Walker, the most popular guy at Raven Ltd. Pleased to meet’cha.

Female Employee: Getting carried away a bit there aren’t you? Theo stop telling Kate lies.

Male Employee: If you don’t tell Kate the truth, won’t she be confused later?

(I wonder if Jude told all the employees I lost my memory?)

Kate: I'm sorry for causing so many people concern.….

Female Employee: I hope you can remember everything soon, Kate.

Male Employee: Once your memory returns, please come and help me with my work again.

Theodore: The prez’s mood’s like night ‘n day when yer not here Kate.

Kate: Is that so….?

Female Employee: It’s all thanks to you Kate, that the president’s attitude has softened a bit!

Theodore: Yeah, I’m INCREDIBLY grateful! I only report mistakes when yer there, Kate.

Theo’s story elicits laughter.

(Looks like before I lost my memories, I got along with the employees at Raven….)

At the same time, things that I hadn't quite believed before were starting to seem real, and my cheeks started to heat up slightly.

(I was shocked when he said he’d treat me as his lover, but maybe Jude and I really were lovers...)

Jude: Oy, whoever’s jabberin’ over there, can ya dash ‘n deliver these documents immediately?

Kate: I’ll go!

(I-I will?)

I reflexively raised my hand, and while the employees stared at me in amazement, Jude simply cracked a smile.

Jude: Leavin’ it to ya then.

Using the map he had drawn for me, I delivered the contracts safely and started to make my way back.

Man With Scarred Cheek: Hey, you Jude’s woman?

Kate: Who are y— !

It was then, that a bag was placed over my head…..

I lose consciousness along the way, and when I regain consciousness, I find myself inside a warehouse somewhere.

(The person who kidnapped me must have a grudge against Jude, right?)

I remember that he was hated by many people.

(What should I do now….?)

However, that worry was quickly alleviated.

Jude: …..G’mornin’, Princess.

Kate: What? Uh? I was kidnapped…..

Jude: This git?

Jude nudges the man lying at his feet with the tip of his shoe.

(He already took care of it…!)

Kate: Thank you for coming to help me, Jude.

Jude: …..

Jude gripped my chin and tilted it up.

Kate: Jude…?

Jude: Was it scary? That kinda thin’s a normal occurrence while datin’ me.

Kate: …..It was definitely scary when I was being kidnapped.

Kate: But….it felt like someone would come and help me.

Jude: Why dont’cha just remember who that someone is quick?

Kate: ………….

As I furrow my brow in thought, Jude quickly grew impatient and released my chin.

Jude: ….Well, never mind. Let’s head back.

Kate: ………….

My heart felt heavy because I couldn’t remember, and when I couldn’t take the hand extended to me, my hand was grabbed forcefully…..

On the way home, Jude held my hand the entire time.

[Master List] [Jude END]

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @goustmilk @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway

[partycatty]

i was sent an incredibly delicious prompt to use, and i just can't resist it omg. requester wanted to be anonymous, but just know i appreciate u! i won't lie, i ran into so many blocks trying to get this out. writing is hard :( i ended up taking a couple creative liberties anon i hope that's okay

bi-han > new tricks

johnny cage's girlfriend catches him cheating, so she tries to get back at him using bi-han. it's all fun and games, until something new starts to blossom.

warnings: u get cheated on, THIS IS NSFW, author struggles to write johnny in a bad light bc of their favoritism /j, accidental bottom bi-han

notes: i'm rubbing my hands together like a little fly rn, also bi-han's betrayal doesn't happen in this case, also also yes i made a gif of johnny getting his shit rocked for this fic thumbnail

masterlist <3

PART 2 !!!!

•you and johnny got together following the end of the storyline's events. he charmed you to holy hell and back with those dumb sunglasses and pickup lines at the academy. he was a sweetheart at first, love-bombing you endlessly until you accepted his thirtieth relationship proposal. deciding to stop dragging him along like a lost puppy, you finally said yes, and off you went to date a movie star!

•the change from being nobody to somebody was JARRING. suddenly, cameras were up your ass all the time, and you caught yourself staring out of your apartment window on multiple occasions to see people scurry away when they're spotted.

•even so, you can't lie. the parties that celebrities hold rival outworld's temptations. especially if johnny is hosting. despite downsizing from his mega mansion, his new home was still expansive enough to hold a large number of people. and boy did he take advantage of the space.

•everyone was a few drinks deep, you yourself were a little buzzed but with the intention of loosening up and socializing. johnny however, seems to have other intentions.

•johnny is canonically a recovering alcoholic. he'd indulge in a girly drink every now and then, maybe some whiskey on a really shitty day. but today, he must have combined the two flavors of vice and was now fitting his clothed dick into some random C-list actress's ass, grinding to the music. his sunglasses sloppily clung onto his nose and his face was flushed. drunk or not, he was dry humping some random broad at his own damn party, with you only a few feet away.

•you want to scream so bad, to tear her bleached blonde hair to the ground and beat her, and then johnny. but all you can do is stand there horrified, that is, until johnny looks up from his buried face in her neck and makes eye contact with you, eyes wide.

•"babe — goddamnit — babe!" johnny slurs out, holding your arms tight on his balcony. "it's not... fuck. it's just fun! it's a party! lighten up!"

•after a drunken back and forth, johnny eventually throws his hands in the air and tells you to fuck off because he can find better at that very party. although you heavily disagreed, the conversation abruptly ended when you slurred something back along the lines of "you want some other bitch? have 'em then!" officially ending your relationship and storming out of the party.

•the following few days were rough on your heart, and majority of the time your bed was occupied and loud sobs echoed across your walls. you could've had it all, dammit, and this dickhead just threw you away like nothing! he thinks he can just score any woman he wants, whenever he wants. even if he learned his lesson from cris, his playboy attitude runs in his veins. it's not something he's gonna shake easily, and you were a victim to his unchanging behavior.

•back to living with nothing, you decided to retreat to the one place you knew you were wanted; the lin kuei compound. bi-han, kuai liang and tomas respected your strength when it came to fighting against evil and welcomed you like their own.

•after about three days of living on the lin kuei's land, you check social media. you went ghost online after the breakup since the paparazzi and article rats were prowling the internet (and your home) for details about your breakup with the A-Lister. checking social media proved to be a stupid move, because almost instantly your feed was flooding with photos and videos of your ex-boyfriend partying on yachts and posing with models. he's really out here posting like he's not damaged in the slightest, but literally everyone and their mother can read the post a little deeper and see he's compensating for losing you. you were mature, well-spoken, and well respected, and he was still trying to get his shit together after everything that happened. you were just another crack in his shittily held together glass. and it was time to get back at him.

•it starts off innocently enough, you snap quick photos of the grandmaster when he's not looking, showing only his veiny arms and a hint of his blue uniform. you'd post it to your story to pretend to soft launch this new "boyfriend," linking a romantic song to the post and letting people run wild. this proved effective immediately, as you noticed that "UgotCAGEd" with the little verified mark would view your story almost the exact moment it'd go up. you knew that he knew exactly who was in the photo, and it just had to have been driving him up a wall. he even tried to combat this by posting more and more, each setting getting more lavish and sexy than the last. if anything, johnny was a chronic 1-upper. but you couldn't just post blurry pictures of bi-han forever. this needed to cut deep.

•and you were going to play this stupid game, because if he goes low, you go in the TRENCHES.

•"grandmaster sub-zero, i-i have a favor to ask you," you politely ask, bowing once before smiling up at bi-han. "i have a plan. a... ridiculous one. but it needs your help."

•"you want us to fake partnership?" bi-han asks you, trying to summarize your lengthy explanation. "go ask kuai liang. or tomas. they need something to do these days, with shang tsung imprisoned. i'm busy."

•"it can't be them, it has to be you," you respectfully protest, putting your hands in a prayer position to beg for his help. "johnny is... jealous of you. it would be most effective. and i'll be forever in your debt." bi-han's eyes momentarily widen at your insistence. your desperation for his help caught him a little off guard.

•it's true. johnny was jealous ever since he got his shit kicked in when they first met. they were never really huge fans of each other since then. standing in front of him now, it's easy to understand how bi-han was so superior. his emotions never took control, he was a powerful leader for his clan, and his furrowed brows and gravely voice rumbled inside of your chest... jesus, now that you're getting a good look, he's actually pretty hot. oh, no.

•"this is ridiculous," bi-han groans, trying to angle himself just right in the selfie. he stands behind you, hand wrapped around your neck as you try to angle the photo just right to where it only gives a tease of his face in the mirror's reflection. "how long does one photo take?"

•"it has to be perfect," you reply, eyes focused on your phone as you wiggle it in different directions to get the best possible view. "crouch down a little more, so more of your jawline shows."

•he leans down, and his breath fans across your neck and ear as he sighs in frustration. you can't deny the little tingle it made you feel inside. but hey, anyone would be nervous if a brick wall like bi-han was in breathing vicinity...

•you snap the photo, seemingly satisfied but now fighting a flustered expression. when you look it over, you realize no, this isn't enough. johnny would leak his own sex tape with a model to beat you at this stupid game, and while you weren't necessarily ready to start blowing the ninja, you knew you needed to get one step ahead.

•"can we take... one more?" you ask sheepishly, already trying to put into words what exactly you're going to ask from this expressionless man.

•"only if it's quick," he replies with a frown, crossing his arms.

•you take a deep breath, spinning to face him and nearly chest to chest from the tightness of the small bedroom you were given.

•pointing to your bed, bi-han almost instantly understands. his lips turn into a thin line as his cheeks are brushed with warmth, warmth that he tries to conceal from you with his hand as he rubs his face.

•he sits himself on the bed, propped up on his elbows with a knowing look in his eye. it's difficult to maintain eye contact as you crawl onto the edge of the bed, hesitant to do what you wanted. for a moment, you want to pull away and trash your entire plan. there's no way you were about to climb up and sit on a ninja grandmaster's lap as revenge against your movie star ex. how in the genuine hell did you end up in this situation??

•"come on, woman," bi-han grumbles, sitting up for a moment to abruptly wrap his hands around your hips and pulling you to sit atop his lap. you tense up, realizing you're now straddling him... and lowkey, he looks good under you. he also just manhandled you. hm. curious.

•you try to shift yourself to comfortably rest on his hips before seeming satisfied with the position. shakily, you reach up to snap a selfie, one that conceals his face but shows you sticking your tongue out and flipping the bird.

•and then you felt it.

•at first, it went unnoticed due to your nerves about the uncharacteristic closeness. but, once you settled to snap the photo, you realized that... bi-han was rock fucking hard underneath you. you weren't sure if you should acknowledge it, but regardless, it felt so perfectly sized against your clothed folds, and you make your interest unintentionally obvious when you let out a nervous whimper. bi-han's eyes remained trained onto yours with a hint of hunger in his low-lidded gaze. even though he wanted to initially hide the boner, it was now abundantly obvious and he felt a surge of confidence gauging your reaction. the hands that rested on your hips tightened, his cold fingers digging into your flesh.

•"you feel that?" he grumbles out, his body feeling suddenly incredibly hot against yours. you swallow and nod. as you do, his firm grip starts to rock your hips back and forth against his cock, the friction of the fabric dividing you two sending you wild already. "whose is bigger?"

•"...yours," you answer breathlessly, allowing yourself to be controlled by the cryomancer's hands. your confession was true, too. johnny's dick was long and lean, but bi-han's.... lord. it felt thick. even through layers of clothes it felt like it could tear you down the middle if he pounded hard enough. a new part of you wanted to find out.

•with a sudden haste, bi-han hikes up your skirt and top, holding the clothes bunched around your waist as he abruptly gives you even closer contact to his cock. you could feel it twitch and throb, and every part of you wanted to sink it into your throat to see how well it hugs your mouth's fleshy walls. his hands crawl underneath the bunched up clothes and settle on your hips, this time directly gripping the plush of them.

•a shiver shot down your spine, both with sudden arousal and the frosty trails on your body from his fingertips. even if he wouldn't admit it, he was just as excited as you were. he let out a low growl feeling your pussy leak through your panties and dampen his dick.

•"i hated the way he looked at you," he'd grumble, eyes fixated on the friction he was creating by manhandling your frame to grind against his. "wanted you all to myself — ngh —"

•you wanted so badly to stop and unpack that wild, sudden confession, but you were already fiending for his popsicle like a motherfucker. through your hazy vision, you see bi-han lock eyes with you, a devilish glint present. he reaches between the two of you and palms himself while you try to relieve the pressure on your clit using the back of his hand.

•finally fed up with the foreplay, bi-han pushes you off of him, making you elevate your body on your knees. he tugs his shirt up and his pants down. his member springs free from the tight constraints, and lord help us all, it's as long and thick as it felt through the pants.

•"you wish to get back at that pompous wannabe?" he asks, voice dangerously husky. "get to it then." obeying like a dog, you settle between his parted legs. still holding his dick, he slaps it against your cheek expectantly.

•the tension, the hunger, and the high emotions overtook your strength to remain proper in front of the grandmaster as you eagerly licked at the base of his shaft, trailing kisses all the way to the warm tip. once you feel properly sure of his size, you slowly but surely sink him into your mouth, barely able to get his dick deep enough without causing a strain on your jaw muscles. bi-han tries to keep his arousal under wraps, but when he feels you hollow out your cheeks to give him the greatest pleasure possible, he lets out a little whine of surprise, though it still sounds more animalistic due to his grumbly voice.

•you hold this position for a moment, letting your warmth completely encapsulate his freezing body. you were starting to see stars in the corner of your eyes before bi-han harshly pulls you up by your hair, making you sputter for breath. a thin trail of saliva follows your lips as he raises your head.

•"wait," he commands breathlessly, fumbling with his other hand to find your phone that was discarded onto the mattress. when he does find it, he struggles even more, mind blank from horniness and also his unfamiliarity with smart devices. you chuckle to yourself, climbing back up to his chest and weaving your way between his arms to show him how to record a video. when it's finally figured out, you crawl back down to where you were and grab his cock with a full hand, stroking it lazily. he winces.

•"sensitive already?" you ask in a low tone, giggling to yourself. bi-han didn't have much time to relieve his sexual desires, so it's no wonder that the slightest bit of head nearly sends this man flying to the moon. "i expected more from you, grandmaster—"

•"—shut the fuck up," he replies sternly, not finding your teasing all too funny. "i'll silence that whore mouth."

•woah

•and with that, he holds the phone up, angled downward at you as you angle your lips on his tip again. he grabs the fistful of your hair and sinks you down once more, this time holding you in place. you barely had time to get some air in before getting your throat thoroughly plugged. you put your hands on his thighs to ensure you'd stay upright, but always sure to look at the camera as you gag and drool.

•"that's more like it," he'll purr, pushing your hair from your face as he holds you still. he then directs his voice to the camera. "how about that, cage? taught your dog some new tricks. i'd say she's exceeding expectations."

•when he finally lets you breathe, you only get a couple gasps before willingly taking his cock again, this time bobbing rhythmically. bi-han, as a ninja, is incredibly good at staying silent, so all he can do is let out occasional exhales and sharp intakes of breath as you suck him off.

•you're sure to put on more of a show than usual for the video, looking into the camera with a sultry smile even with your lips stretched out to accommodate for his giant dick. you've got an expression that says "fuck you."

•when bi-han has enough of your pace, he starts to buck his hips into your throat, creating a nasty gargling sound in the back of your head that would be otherwise nauseating. you're surprised he's not ripping the hair straight from your scalp as he death grips a fistful. frosty hands grip the sheets, solidifying them with a thin sheet of ice as he nears the edge. his body can't decide between lurching forward and arching back as you make him cum.

•he's a silent orgasm-haver. bi-han bites down hard on his lower lip as he releases, clenching his eyes shut and knitting his brows together. and boy, does he love to ride the high of fucking your face. he loves it even more knowing he'll have an audience.

•he wanted to cum into your mouth so badly, but even he knew better. he had to make the money shot something memorable. cum painted your face beautifully, dripping down your cheeks and catching in your eyebrows. there was even a thick streak starting from your hairline. with no time to ever do this himself, his jizz accumulated within him for quite some time, now soaking your entire face.

•bi-han stops the video, but only to snap photos of your messied, flushed face. gripping your cheeks to hold you in place, he's sure to make sure every drop of cum is within camera shot as he catches his breath.

•you swipe a glob of his load from your forehead and stick your finger in your mouth, tasting his arousal for you with a smirk.

•"definitely sending that to him," you giggle as he tucks his dick back into his pants. "i'm in your debt, bi-han." normally, he would've protested the use of his first name from an associate of liu kang, but he was too high from his orgasm to really give a shit. instead, he grumbles a small "mhm," and nods, fighting a little smirk himself.

•he stands up and grabs a loose towel, holding up your face more sweetly this time as he wipes you clean. the gesture was oddly soothing. he seemed like a pump and dump kind of man, and he probably is! but you're touching a sweet spot he didn't know he even had. even so, he's silent, never once communicating this and instead expressing it through the minor gesture.

•a relationship doesn't quite blossom yet, but the sexual tension between you two is now incredibly obvious to the lin kuei. his gaze lingers, as does yours. the touches during training last a moment longer. your silly little plan of making johnny angry seemed to have blossomed a new... situationship? we'll unpack that some other time.

•the following morning, your phone rings. it's johnny.

•"DID YOU BLOW THE FUCKING ICE NINJA?!"

[b00kdiary]

Okay I've been debating about requesting this. However, I think you would do this lovely.

Reader is shopping for her wedding dress and is really excited only for the workers. They treat her terribly for her size and make her feel uncomfortable, so she leaves trying on only like 2 dresses and feels icky and when her mate (Cassian) wants to cuddle he can sense somethings off especially when he evades his touch.

Take some liberties with it. But I had this experience recently with my bridesmaids, and we didn't feel insecure, but we all left feeling really angry and upset

Full disclosure I did write something similar to this with Rhys, but I would honestly love your take with Cassian because I think you write him beautifully 😍

Mine | Cassian

Cassian X Plus Size reader

Y/N goes wedding dress shopping and is confronted with females who make it clear that they think she’s unworthy of being Cassian’s mate, that she shouldn’t be his wife. Cassian shows her just how fucking wrong they are.

Warning: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body image issues and mean comments, fluff, angst and Mild Smut. (A/N to the lovely person who requested this I am sorry this happened to you, and I hope this work is how you'd like!)

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"A size 18?"

The female before me asked again – for the third fucking time.

And just like the first and second, her beautiful face twisted, lips curling in a cruel smirk, blue eyes widening and her tone – I could hear the condescension in it. But what really took the cake was how her eyes raked down my figure, from head to toe looking at me like I was dirt on her shoe.

"Yes," Mor breathed, speaking sharply through her clenched teeth. I glanced sidelong at her, nervous at the anger simmering in her golden eyes. "She said that already. Thrice."

The female's eyes slid from me to Mor, and she had the good sense to look uneasy at the blonde's wrathful expression. I kept my face neutral when she met my gaze, a faux-innocent smile on her pink lips before she dipped her head in a bare nod and scurried away.

I glared as her long, slender legs carried her, shapely hips and slim waist swaying with every graceful movement. No wonder why she was looking at me like I was the fucking elephant in the room. She was tiny, as was every other worker in this stupid shop.

"I am going to pluck her eyes from her head," Mor seethed quietly from beside me. I turned to her, bracing my hands on my soft hips as I met her furious frown. "And tear her tongue from her mouth. She is awful."

"Yes, she is," I chuckled, pushing down the ache in my chest as I met Mor’s stare. I wouldn’t let her meanness affect me. Nor would I let Mor try and defend my honour. “But we’re here for a wedding dress, this is meant to be fun. Just ignore her.”

Mor sighed, tucking the strands of her long blonde hair from her face. I gave her a hopeful smile and I could see her physically forcing down her anger for my sake. A second later her golden eyes met mine and she beamed.

“You’re right, this is meant to be fun,” Mor grabbed my hand, smirking as she tugged me along the shop floor to the dressing room, passing the dozens and dozens of gorgeous gowns. “And you're going to marry your mate. Cassian is one lucky male.”

We passed a group of female workers, re-organising the rack – and it was almost comical how they all halted at Mor’s words, eyes widening. Mor’s smirk broadened and she shot them a cruel, amused look.

“Mate and soon-to-be wife of General Cassian of the Night Court,” Mor continued, feigning ignorance to the group of females now listening. Their faces ashen as they flickered their gaze to and from me. “You really do need the perfect dress.”

I rolled my eyes at her gloating tone, slapping her hand in mild scolding as we stopped before the dressing room doors. I tried to ignore how the workers watched me, but I could feel their deadly stares boring holes into my back, all over my body – I could feel the awful judgement.

“I think the one we chose will be perfect,” Mor continued, oblivious to the stares I was getting and the whispers behind my back. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing an easy smile onto my lips as she gushed. “The neckline, the bodice, the skirt – Cassian won’t know what hit him.”

“Let’s wait and see if they have my size first,” I muttered, drumming my fingers impatiently as we waited. Mor shot me a look, frowning but I just stared ahead. I didn’t want her to feel bad for me.

“If this store doesn’t another will,” Mor said, her tone a shade softer now. “Besides, we have the best tailors in Velaris, we could have a gown fit for a queen made for you if you wanted. I know Cassian would want nothing less than the best for you. So do the rest of us.”

A gown fit for a queen. Something fit for the mate of the General. The thought made me feel nauseous for some reason. Still, I gave Mor another smile, nodding along as if I liked the idea.

Mercifully, the female worker arrived before Mor could press me anymore about what I thought. Or unmercifully if the fake smile she wore as she approached was any indication. Or how she held that size 18 dress like the largeness of it might rub off on her.

Mor was right. She is fucking awful.

“Here we are,” She chirped, draping the bag over my arm with more force than necessary. She eyed the dress, disdain in them. “Size 18. Sadly, that is the largest we do. So, hopefully, it fits.”

Hopefully sounded more like I hope it doesn’t – sounded like she wanted to laugh at me when it didn’t.

“Hopefully,” I gritted out, shooting her a bland smile before walking away without another word.

Mor chuckled quietly as she followed after me, leaving that awful female standing there – dismissed. Perhaps it was mean, I was not someone who was ever rude to staff and yet this woman had brought that side out of me.

She’d also brought out the side of me that felt sick with nerves at the idea of trying this dress on.

***

Mor began crying the second I stepped out of the changing rooms wearing the dress.

“Oh Cauldron,” She laughed, red-painted nails coming to her face, wiping the endless tears away. I smiled as I descended the steps moving toward the mirrors. “You look beautiful, Y/N. Truly, you’re a dream.”

I smiled at my friend; throat too tight to voice how much her words meant to me. My legs shook a little as I moved toward the mirrors. The dress had fit, and she was right – I did look like a dream.

“Gods, it’s beautiful,” I whispered, voice shaking. I ran my trembling hands along the tight-laced bodice, down the soft silk material as it draped along my curved hips and fell in soft, elegant weaves down my thighs and to the floor.

It fit me like a glove. The simple, sweetheart neckline accentuated my chest, the bodice moulded perfectly against my waist and hips and the material looked rich, looked like it was made for a queen.

“You’re beautiful,” Mor said softly, coming to stand behind me in the mirror, tears glistening in her eyes as she ran her hands through my hair, “I think this might be the dress.”

“I think so too,” I laughed, my eyes burning with emotion as I stared at myself. Beautiful – it was a feeling I rarely experienced and yet, right now I did. I felt beautiful. “This is my dress.”

Mor shrieked, and I flinched at the shrill sound as she laughed, hugging me so tight I could scarcely breathe. I giggled, sniffing as I wrapped my arms around her slender frame, and I was beaming just as broad as she was.

Until the door cracked open.

And that female stood in the doorway. Frowning at me.

“You’ve found your dress then?” She said tightly, interrupting Mor’s elated nonsensical muttering about Cassian and the wedding and something about drinking. “It fits.”

I straightened as Mor pulled away from me, all remnants of a smile gone from her lovely face, and she was as stiff as me as we turned to that female. I swallowed as her blue eyes racked across my figure, something akin to disgust rippling like waves through her gaze.

“Yes,” I said tightly, my arms unconsciously folding over my chest. As if to shield myself from her judgment. “It fits.”

“Excellent,” She replied, sounding anything but thrilled. But still, she smiled, an ugly sight, before she beckoned Mor to follow her. “We can figure out the details while she gets out of the dress. I imagine it might take a while.”

Mor’s canines flashed and the female took a step back in surprise when Mor looked as if she might lunge for her – and rip out her throat with her teeth. But I clamped my hand down around her wrist before she could. Her golden eyes turned to me, incredulous, but I merely shook my head with a warning in my eyes.

“That’s fine,” I said sharply, meeting her blue eyes and raising my chin, “I’ll see you both in a few minutes then.”

“Fine,” Mor muttered, sighing as my fingers uncurled from her wrist. I could see the anger on her face as she followed after the female. And rightfully so, the female kept a good distance between them as they exited the room.

I released a tight breath as I moved back to the changing room, locking the door and slumping back against it once I was inside. And just like that, I felt awful again. I felt big like I was taking up too much space. I felt ugly like this dress wasn’t for me. And most of all I felt unworthy.

A mixture of anger and sorrow washed over me as I slipped out of the dress and back into my usual leggings and top. I tried to not dwell on how that female had looked at me, how swiftly she had yanked me back to reality with something as simple as her words.

It shouldn’t have mattered and yet, for some reason it did.

“Did you hear-“

I heard the soft giggling voice as I yanked my shoes on, two pairs of footsteps and rustling clothes sounding in the main part of the dressing room. Admittedly, I might have softened my movements to hear them. I had a horrible feeling I knew what they were talking about.

“The female who came in before asking for a size 18,” She whispered, spitting the size like it was acid on her tongue. My chest tightened. “She’s mated to and marrying General Cassian. Cassian who looks like a God is tied to her.”

“Cauldron spare him,” The other female choked on a laugh, and they both sounded almost sorry for him – like they pitied Cassian for having me as a mate. “The least she could have done is lose some weight for the wedding. I’m a size 2 and I would have tried to get down to a 0, never mind being her size.”

Her size.

Hot, searing embarrassment spread over me like a fire. But I forced down the humiliation and the bile twisting in my gut as I rose to my feet grabbing my purse and unlocking the door as loudly as I could. They stopped speaking and moving, instantly.

And my face was like steel as I stepped out into the main room. And watched their eyes widen, faces turning ashen. It would have been amusing if they hadn’t just torn my sense of self to shreds.

“Oh-“ One of the females gasped upon seeing me. Dumb struck. I saw them both glancing at each other, faces reddening and scrambling to find the words to explain what I had overheard.

I said nothing as I began stalking away, but I kept my face hard and my back straight as I exited the room and moved back through the shop floor. They were scurrying after me, like the rodents they were, likely to beg me not to say anything.

“Y/N!” Mor grinned as she stood at the counter, the first female and another, older female by her side, sorting through some paperwork. Mor’s smile dimmed when she saw my stormy expression. “What-“

“We’re not buying that dress,” I said simply as I stopped at the desk. All eyes latched onto me in surprise. “I won’t be buying anything from this store.”

Mor blinked at me. But upon seeing the severity on my face, the way my hands were clenched around my purse until my knuckles turned white, she didn’t push it.

“All right,” Mor nodded, dropping the papers in her hand, and slipping her bag around her shoulder. She looked at me and smiled, “Let’s go.”

“Wait. Wait-“

I glanced at the older female, seeing the confusion and panic on her face. But it was nothing compared to the panic of the female worker beside her. She looked like she might pass out.

“I’m the manager here, ladies,” The elder female said, and her eyes were kind. She seemed kind. “If you have any issues, please I will do whatever I can to remedy it.”

“You’re the manager?” I asked, and she nodded. I smiled - it was not a kind sight. “Then you should know that I intended to buy that dress, it was lovely. But I won’t.”

“Because of her,” I looked at the first female at her side, my tone as sharp as a blade. She stiffened, like a doe caught by a predator as all eyes fell to her.

“And them,” I turned back to where the two other females stood. Just as stiff, just as caught off guard. Still holding the garments, they had been fixing when they were discussing my body in the dressing room.

“I’d re-think the kind of people you employ here, how they speak and treat your customers,” I said, turning back to the eldest female. She had anger in her eyes now – like this wasn’t the first time. “Because I won’t pay to be ridiculed. And I will ensure that no female I know will come here either, not with the likes of them working here.”

“I apologise for whatever offence they caused, my dear,” She frowned, shaking her head at me. She genuinely looked upset. “I will deal with this accordingly.”

I turned my attention to the workers, to the anger and tears in their eyes. They glared at me as if this were my fault. I shot them a saccharine smile before turning, Mor on my heel as we walked away.

“Are you all right?” Mor asked me softly when we left the shop and walked back into the bustle of the main street.

“I’m fine,” I lied, keeping my eyes straight ahead. “I just want to go home. It’s been a long day.”

***

I hear Cassian and Azriel’s laughter the second Mor and I step into the house. And Cassian must sense my presence because I feel a soft brush down the bond, adoring and needy as if trying to coax me to come to him faster.

“Sweetheart,” Cassian grins the second I walk into the room, his handsome face lighting in the most breathtaking way as he rushes over to me. His arms are around me in a second, enveloping me in a great, crushing hug.

It would be sweet. Except his hands dig into the flesh at my back. I can feel my stomach pressing into his hard, carved chest. And he’s lifting me, Gods, I cringe as my feet lift off the ground and he’s bearing all my weight.

“Hey, Cass,” I mutter, trying to force an easy smile onto my lips as he drops me gently to my feet. I push at his chest, pulling free from his hold as I step back, and I don’t miss the small, confused frown he gives me. “Hey, Az.”

Azriel smiles at me, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes as I stiffly move around my mate, every inch of me hard and wilting from his loving touch.

“You don’t have any bags with you?” Cassian noted from beside me, his hazel eyes moving from Mor, who was shoving her several bags onto the counter and then to me, with none. “I thought you were going wedding shopping?”

“I didn’t find anything,” I said simply, moving on stiff legs to the dining table. I brush off Cassian’s hand on my back as I do so, and Azriel’s eyes narrow. But again, I ignore it all as I pour myself a glass of water, staring at the clear water as if fills my cup.

“That’s not true, she found a beautiful dress, the dress,” Mor said, her voice exasperated. And my fingers tightened around the glass as I brought it to my mouth and sipped. “She was going to buy it, but the workers were such assholes to her-“

“Workers?” Cassian cut in, voice sharpening. I sighed when he marched to me, towering height peering down at me with anger and concern in his eyes. “What shop? What did they say-“

“Nothing, Cass,” I kiss my teeth, brushing away the hand he brought to my face, annoyance flaring in my eyes. His frown deepened, and so did the tension in the room. “Nothing happened, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Mor argued, and my jaw clenched, as I looked away from my mate to the glass in my hand. “They were mean, Y/N and the way they spoke to you and looked at you, the way they treated you-“

“Mor!” I slammed the glass onto the table, so hard the wood shook from the impact. My sharp yell echoed through the silence as everyone stared at me – shocked. “I said it was fine. Just stop.”

Mor blinks at me, her face falling. I regret yelling at her immediately.

“I’m sorry,” She mutters, guilt in her eyes. I feel Cassian and Azriel’s attention unwavering on me and it’s too much. “I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine,” I whisper, voice shaking. My entire body is shaking as I step away from them, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “I’m- I’m going to go get some rest.”

“Y/N,” Cassian called my name as I turned, but I could feel the tears burning in my eyes. So, I kept walking, and walking, and walking.

***

I’m sitting on the chaise in one of Cassian’s old shirts, reading and re-reading the same line in my book when he comes in.

I don’t lift my eyes from that one page, even as my heart thunders in my chest as he silently stalks over to me. I know he can hear my heavy breathing and erratic pulse; I know he can feel my sorrow in waves down the bond.

His footsteps are nearly silent as he moves toward me, and I feel his eyes like a brand on my skin. I suck in a harsh breath when he stops and drops to kneel before me. His large hands brace on my thighs, his face levels with mine and I’m shaking as I keep my eyes down.

I hear his throat work and I clamp my eyes shut when his hand comes forward, gently taking the book I wasn’t reading from my hands and discarding it on the floor beside him. So gentle, so tender, I could feel it just in the way he watched me.

“Look at me, my love,” Cassian whispers, fingers curling around my thighs. I cringe as he kneads my flesh, but his touch is adoring. “Please, look at me.”

I took in a stabilising breath before I fluttered my eyes open and lifted them to meet his. My heart broke at the pain in his eyes, that lovely face twisted with hurt as he beheld me.

“I’m fine,” I muttered. My voice broke. But still, I shook my head, trying to smile. “I’m fine Cass.”

“No, you’re not baby,” Cassian frowned, and a tear slid down from my eyes when his hand lifted and cupped my cheek, darkness in his eyes as he tracked that tear. And the next. And the next. “What happened? What did they say? I can’t fix it if I don’t know.”

My bottom lip trembled as more tears fell from my face, and Cassian released a broken, desperate groan as I tried to fight back my sobs. I curled one hand around his strong wrist, just needing to hold him, to anchor myself to his strength.

“They were looking at me like I was disgusting Cass,” I whispered, unable to say the words any louder. I kept my eyes closed as I spoke - I couldn’t face him. “Like just for existing in my body I should be ashamed.”

He shook with rage. I felt it down the bond, that primal, deadly anger that he rarely ever exhibited but when he did it was catastrophic.

“And when they heard, I was mated to you, that I would be marrying you,” Another sob broke free from me and his hand tightened at my jaw. He leaned forward, trembling as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I overheard them talking about how gorgeous you were and how fucking awful it was that you were mated to me.”

Pain danced through the bond, his pain not mine.

“And I just felt so guilty,” I breathed, sniffing as the tears leaked into my nose and mouth, as Cassian let them soak him too. “You should have a female walking down that aisle who is beautiful and thin, I didn’t even try and lose weight for the wedding, I’m sorry Cass-“

“Stop.” He snarled. And my eyes blinked open latching onto the searing, furious rage in his gaze. “Stop.”

“Cassian – “ I gasped as he grabbed me, fingers curling around my waist and hips and before I knew it, he was lifting me, spinning us so that he sat on the chaise, and I was straddling him. So fast. So easy. Like I didn’t weigh a damn thing.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” Cassian said severely, hand cupping my cheek and forcing my eyes to stay on his. I had never seen him so serious. “I’m going to speak and you’re going to listen, okay?”

I nodded slowly, blinking away the tears as I stared at him.

His hand stayed on my jaw, the other curling around my thigh and keeping my body flush with him. Every inch of me felt every inch of him. I tried not to cringe at what he could feel.

“Do not ever let anyone, male or female, make you question your worth and beauty,” He said, his voice steady and firm. So were his eyes. “Do not ever let anyone make you feel like you are not enough. You are worthy of the world and more, do you hear me?”

I swallowed, my throat painfully tight but at the command in his gaze, I nodded again.

“I should kill those females for speaking about you like that, for making you think that any inch of you is ugly,” He snarled softly, canines baring, and I hated how he frowned, wanting to rub away the crease between his brows. “You are beautiful. You are the most beautiful female I have ever seen in my life. And I thank the Mother every fucking day that she made you mine. That she made me yours.”

A tear trickled down my face. Cassian’s eyes softened and he rubbed that tear and the next away with a tender brush of his thumb.

“Don’t ever think I don’t love your body, I do, I love every curve baby, I can’t resist them,” He sighed, and my eyes fluttered as his hand began to languish across my thighs, moving over my fleshy hips and the rolls at my back with need. “I don’t want you to change anything about yourself, not for me, or a wedding, or to fit into a dress. I want you just as you are.”

“Are you sure?” I whisper, my voice so weak. And Cassian’s face falls at it, at the doubt and vulnerability in my words. “I don’t want to embarrass you Cassian.”

“You could never embarrass me,” He scoffs, and my body melts into his as his hand curves around to cup my ass, dragging me forward so that not even an inch of space remains between us. “I am nothing but a brute. A bastard. But with you? I am the luckiest male in the world, I get to have your heart, your smile, and your body to love and worship and comfort for the rest of my life. I pity other males who don’t have you.”

“You’re not a brute or a bastard or anything else of the sort,” I frown, denial sparking like embers in my eyes. Cassian laughs, his throat thick with emotion, but he laughs at the immediate anger in me. “I love you Cassian. Just like you love me.”

I knew he did. I never should have questioned it.

“And I love you, baby,” He smiles, that kind of smile that knocks the air from my lungs. “I love you so fucking much. I don’t want you to forget it but if you do, I will always be there to remind you.”

My eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips to mine, and the feeling is just like home. It’s like finding the other half of my soul and feeling it slot into place the second we meet. It’s perfect.

Cassian grins as I moan, my lips parting to let his tongue sweep in, hot and exploring, tracing against my teeth and tongue like he wants to devour me. His hands ravish along my body, palming my ass, cupping, and toying with my aching breasts, rubbing that deliciously thick length up into me.

“So responsive,” Cassian praises, running his tongue along my lips teasingly and I whimper as he rolls his hips against my wet, swollen clit, so hard I can feel him through his slacks and my underwear. “So beautiful when you’re rubbing against me, my love.”

“Cass,” I moan, eyes fluttering as presses wet kisses against my jaw, his hands cupping my ass and dragging me back and forth over his cock. He groans a rough, lewd sound, one that goes straight down to the heat between my thighs.

“I think you should forgo a dress on our wedding day,” Cassian grumbles against my cheek, hazel eyes flashing mischievously as I grind down against him, faster and harder. “I couldn’t imagine a better sight than you walking down that aisle completely naked, looking like the goddess you are.”

“Cassian,” My back arched, the slickness between my thighs growing more and more, especially as he growled those filthy words into my ears. His hands do not stop for a second, exploring and touching every inch of me.

“Whatever dress you wear will be on the floor anyway,” He chuckles darkly, and I clench around nothing when he shifts me back, his hand slipping between our bodies to untie his slacks. I groan when he pulls his cock free, eager as I push my underwear to the side and line him up to my entrance.

“I plan to make love to this perfect cunt from the second you’re tied to me,” He snarls softly and I’m a moaning mess as I sink, taking inch after inch into my wet core, loving how good he stretches me. “A dress would just be an unnecessary obstacle.”

His teeth nip and bite against my throat as he maxes out inside me and I have to brace my hands on his chest to calm myself, stretched so wide, feeling him so deep. He grins at how breathless and desperate I am, seated inside me like this was his home.

“You want me to walk down naked on our wedding day?” I lift my eyes to him, clenching around him and watching his eyes flutter at the feeling. I smirk, cupping his jaw as I slowly roll my hips. “With so many males present?”

His eyes darken. Like death.

“Rhysand, Azriel, Helion, Varian,” I roll my hips again, moaning at the spark of pleasure that runs through me. Cassian’s hands tighten on my hips, hard enough to bruise and my smirk broadens. “Lucien, Jurian, Eris-“

“I will kill them all before letting them see you naked,” Cassian bucks his hips up violently, slamming his cock to the hilt. I choke on a gasp, slumping into his awaiting embrace.

“Every-“ Thrust. “Last-“ Thrust. “Fucking-“ Thrust. “One.”

I cry out as he drives his cock into me, the sound of my arousal dancing through the air, mixing with my moans. Cassian groans, and I can feel that primitive Fae instinct in him as he fucks me as if he wants to imprint himself onto my very skin.

“You’re mine, baby,” His canines bite against the junction of my throat, just as his cock hits a deep, spongey spot inside me. “All fucking mine.”

“I’m yours, Cass,” I whimper, panting as he slides in and out of me at a brutal pace, every shift of his hips rubbing against my swollen clit. “I’m all yours, yours, yours – “

He smiles.

And fucks me for hours like I was his.

And he was mine. 

_________________________________________

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Taking requests for all SJM men x plus size reader!

[cosmowgyral]

"Once again, the Evil that cannot be Undone: Tonight you will fall for me"

▪︎ William and Nica

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

William's End

When I went to the great hall, William was playing the piano, just like the other day.

He immediately noticed me and stopped.

Kate: …..I’m sorry for interrupting again.

William: Not at all. I was playing it to lure you out, so it all went as planned.

(…Huh?)

(I feel like I’ve heard William say that before.)

I tried to remember when it was, but my head only throbbed with a dull ache.

William: Will the Robin stay up late again tonight?

Kate: Ye-yes…. I didn’t feel like sleeping just yet.

William: I heard you went out with Nica Schwartz today.

Kate: How did you know?

William: Liam got worried seeing you leave the castle and followed you.

Kate: …I’m sorry.

Unable to bear the strange sense of guilt that welled up inside me, I apologized, and William tilted his head.

William: Why are you apologizing?

Kate: Well, that’s….

(For some reason, I felt bad for William, so I ended up apologizing….)

(Why do I feel sorry for him…and why do I feel guilty?)

It’s difficult to express emotions that I can’t understand myself….

Kate: I was told to take it easy and get some rest, so I think I might have worried others by going out on my own.

In the end, I gave a safe and neutral answer.

William: ….I won’t deny that I was worried.

William’s hands leave the keyboard and reach out towards me.

(Ah…I feel like someone is caressing my cheek.)

I might not remember it, but my body remembers the feeling of William’s fingers caressing me.

Sometimes it was mischievous and lively like playing on a keyboard, and other times it was careful and gentle like it was handling something fragile.

Even though I was at the mercy of his touch, I felt like my heart was filled with happiness.

(Why do I remember the feeling of his touch?)

Although I was confused, my desire to be caressed by him overcame it, and I patiently awaited his touch.

However, William put his hand down halfway without touching me.

William: You must be tired after being out all day.

William: Even if you’re not feeling sleepy, it’s best for you to lie down in bed and rest.

After lowering his outstretched hand, William spoke to me gently and comfortingly.

I was sure I heard concern in his words for me, but for some reason I felt he was pushing me away.

(No. What I wanted to hear wasn’t ‘take rest’.)

(What I wanted William to say is….)

Kate: Why won’t you scold me?

The words that came out of my mouth not only surprised William, but me as well.

William: ……

Kate: ..Ah! I-I’m sorry. I said something very weird…!

William smiles, as if to ease my nervousness.

William: Do you want me to scold you for going out with some other guy?

Was it just me or did his voice just now sound a bit more cheerful?

Kate: I-I don’t really want to be scolded.

Kate: But somehow I feel like I’ve done something that deserves scolding.

William: If that’s what you feel then come here.

When I walked up to William at his beckoning----

His fingers tapped my forehead lightly.

Kate: ..Ngh

William: You’re a bad girl.

He seemed to be just joking and didn’t mean to scold me seriously…..

But I felt like William had forgiven me and all the tension in my body eased.

(Why do I care about him so much?)

I felt sad when he seemed to push me away, and now that I have been forgiven, I’m happy.

The frustration of my emotions not going the way I wanted them to was similar to the feeling of being in love.

William: As punishment, how about you join me for a performance tonight?

Kate: Huh…? But, I’ve never played the piano.

William: That’s okay, I’m sure you will do fine.

William demonstrated a simple melody on the piano.

William: Now try imitating it.

I watched and tried to imitate him, playing the keys in the same way.

William: Well done. Now let’s continue like this.

Imitating William’s hand movements, I played the piano as though I were pursuing him.

After repeating it several times…I was now able to play the piece on my own without having to look.

William played the piano along with me, and the two intertwined sounds resonate beautifully.

William: What do you desire the most right now?

As he continued playing, William casually asked the question.

(I feel like….I have been asked this question before.)

The moment I realized that, my lost memories vividly came back to me.

--(flashback)--

 William: What do you desire the most right now?

Kate: Of course…I want to go back to my normal life.

--(flashback ends)--

It was not long after I became the fairy tale keeper.

In response to William’s question back then, I said that I wanted to go back to my daily peaceful life.

But….that was a mistake.

It was painful to wish for something that would never come true…so I just swallowed my inner voice and pretended to be understanding.

After meeting William, falling in love with him, and loving him with all my heart, what I truly want is----.

Kate: What I want most right now is…to go back to my ‘normal life’ with you, Will.

Kate: Is there a place for me?

William: Yeah, of course.

William: All this time...I’ve been waiting for you to come back.

After saying this with a stern voice, William picked me up effortlessly.

He carried me to his room and lowered me onto the bed.

Kate: Will---mmngh

Will leaned over and kissed me deeply.

The kiss was a little too rough for him.

(Did Will feel lonely too?)

My heart is filled with a sense of guilt for having lost my memories and my love for him.

I took his hand once more…. in the night that had just started.

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