#(it's always going to make me think of the long night first)

[dante-mightdie]

long awaited part three of lowselfesteem!reader and simon

part two

invisible clothes

that’s what you called them, the rags you don when you have to integrate with the general population but you would much rather not be noticed. clothing that is so bland that it isn’t nice enough catch an eye but not hideous enough to catch any negative attention

you had told simon about them once, when he called you out on wearing them every time you stepped out in public, including your dates with him. especially since he knew you had a very elaborate wardrobe with a tailored sense of style

clearly they aren’t invisible enough to hide you from johnny’s guilty eyes from across the store aisle. you sigh when he comes up to you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. he shifts uncomfortably on his feet

“I know ye probably hate ma guts, lass but ye should ken that simon shut down all of that bet talk after your first date. Ah just bring et up to annoy ‘im.” johnny says, with a nervous chuckles at the end. you don’t laugh alongside him

“okay, fair enough. look, he’s miserable without ye! he comes to the pub just to get pished and mope about how he fucked it all up with ye.” johnny continues, a pleading look in his eyes, “he’s supposed to he coming by to drop off some things of yours tomorrow. just hear him out, please, lass.”

you roll your eyes at him, continuing to grab what you need from the shelves in front of you. not even bothering to look him in the eyes when you finally begin to speak

"why should I? why am I always expected to think of other people even when they hurt me? you and simon didn't think about me or my feelings when you made your stupid bet. neither of you stopped to consider that I was just a person who simply wanted to be left alone." you say with a scoff, "he'll be lucky if I don't slam the door in his face."

johnny shifts on his feet, looking down at the floor since he feels too uncomfortable to look directly at you, "fair enough. take care've yerself, hen."

you bite back tears as you watch him skulk off in the corner of your eye. you stand there for a few more minutes, staring at the stacked shelves in front of you to distract you from the war raging inside of your head

-

it's late at night, nearly midnight, when there's a knock at your door. you let out a sigh, already knowing who was disturbing your doomscrolling at this hour. and when you open the door, you see him. you’re brooding prick of an ex-boyfriend. he at least has the decency to look guilty, like a dog caught ripping up the couch cushions

except he wasn’t a dog, he was the love of your life. and your heart isn’t so easily replaced like a cushion. though he definitely treated it like somewhere to rest his head

“hey.”

you scoff, you’re not sure why. there isn’t anything inherently wrong with what he said but it still annoyed you. he annoyed you. with his stupid stormy eyes and his stupid jokes and freckled shoulders that you used to connect like dots late at night

���just give me my stuff and go, simon. don’t have time for this bullshit.”

he doesn’t flinch. he saw that hit coming, and sometimes you gotta let them swing at you especially when you know that you deserve much worse

the exchange is quick, a box with small memories passed over to you. a couple items of clothing, a book and some toiletries. before you can slam the door in his face, he jams his heavy boot into it

“wait… love, I… there’s somethin’ else. I never gave it to you but it’s yours. got it for you and I’ll never give it to anyone else.”

the glare you give him only falters when he places a small velvet box in your hand, he pauses the speech you can definitely feel coming on. looking at you expectantly to open it. you do, waiting for him to laugh at you when you find nothing in there. ridicule you for even thinking he would consider making you his wife

but all he does it look on solemn, the beautiful ring twinkling as a devastating reminder of what could have been

“I kno’ I ‘ave no right to ask. I wouldn’t insult you like tha’ lovie. you can hate me, I deserve it. but you don’t deserve it. I won’t let you hurt yourself over what I did. you deserve to know the real extent of how bad I fucked up. maybe it’ll help to look at tha’ ring and know that I’ll spend the rest of my life having to know I lost the woman who should be my wife.”

there’s no chance to respond, not like you’d know what to say anyway,

“I’m sorry.”

and then he’s gone.

[avelera]

So apparently, Fortiche shared concept art where Jayce's Hexcorization in the cave would extend all the way to his face:

And this is really interesting to me from a narrative perspective, here's why:

Much of S2 Jayce's arc is incredibly... punitive. Like, he is really being punished step by step for everything he did wrong in S1. From Renni terrorizing and almost killing him for the death of her son, to Viktor leaving him "for another woman" (the Hexcore as represented by Sky) much like Jayce left him for politics as represented by Mel, there's really a sense of the narrative not only tearing Jayce down to his bare essentials (something that's very common for TV writing to do, by the way, it's very common that you want to see characters reduced down to who they are for their "long night of the soul" moment before they learn the lessons of what they really stand for before going into the climax armed with those lessons), but Jayce's time in the cave really goes even further than that and not only does S2 take away his political career, his Hextech ambitions, his state as someone able-bodied, much of his strength, and certain other gifts, it looks like in this draft they considered taking away his beauty too.

I think it would have been interesting either way if they had, but I want to dive into the narrative structure of action and punishment in Arcane, why Hexcorizing Jayce's face might have been a step too far and not really addressed a lesson he needed to learn, and my thoughts on punitive character arcs in general in Arcane (or lack thereof), specifically with regards to Jayce and Caitlyn.

I've mentioned elsewhere that I always found it interesting that much of the hate directed towards Jayce by the fans was for his perceived incompetence in difficult moments, rather than at how naturally gifted he seems to be at everything.

When I first watched S1 on my own, I thought Jayce was a bit unbearable because everything comes so easily to him (after Viktor becomes his partner and Hextech takes off as a result, that is). He is naturally beautiful, he's built like a god but doesn't appear to do any sort of exercise routine to maintain this other than working in the forge, he becomes the Man of Progress and rockstar of Piltover pretty much without trying, girls are literally sighing dreamily as he goes by.

He's also naturally a genius, from what we see, revolutionizing multiple industries with one invention. Even his rescue as a child is a literal miracle and it spurs him to create an invention that makes him a rockstar. When he enters politics, he immediately dominates, to the point where he's able to get a unanimous vote to overthrow the founder of the city within weeks of going there. Even in battle he's naturally gifted and naturally lucky during the raid of the Shimmer factory (up until the death of Renni's son), even though he has no prior skills as far as we know. He also wins the love of arguably the most beautiful woman in the series, again, seemingly without trying.

Then, S2 doesn't just take all of this away from him, it seems to go a step further into actually punishing Jayce for how easy and miraculous his life was in S1.

I'm of two minds about the Hexcorization reaching his face, but I have a hypothesis. I think it would have looked fucking rad but, I kinda get why they didn't do it:

Because Jayce's good looks are not something he can control, unlike the other things the narrative punishes him for.

Insofar as he can control his looks, he gives up on the clean-cut, immaculate "Golden Boy" image. Even in the idealized astral plane, he keeps most of the marks of his time in the pit like his hair and beard. I think it's because Jayce likes who he became down there. The clean-cut version of him was always the mask of him trying to please others, Jayce's appearance after he emerges from the cave is him shedding the opinions of others (contrast this with how Viktor idealizes himself in the astral plane, removing all marks of his illness. This isn't a criticism, just an interesting point of contrast).

So basically, my theory is Fortiche may have pulled back on Hexcorizing Jayce's face on the one hand to soften the visuals a bit, but secondly because it keeps the focus on punishing Jayce for things he chose to do, rather than things he doesn't really have control over.

But make no mistake, the narrative comes down hard on Jayce in S2, for every little thing the fans could and often did hate him for in S1. He pays for all of them, arguably in excess of what he maybe deserved, since as he says he didn't ask for any of this. But he did go along with it, and there's where the hammer of consequence (quite literally) comes down on him, tears away all his privileges, drags him down to literally the level of Viktor when he first left the undercity and says, "You have to do it all again but now focused on what really matters, and it's going to be ten times harder than it ever was."

This, in my opinion, is why Jayce is so popular coming out of S2. It is a hell of an arc, it's a hell of a redemption! You gave the man everything any man could want, then you took it all away, and then as his crowning moment of showing he has truly learned these lessons and made up for his mistakes, he makes possibly the most loving gesture possible, puts his weapons down, and reaches out to the person he loves most and literally sacrifices himself on the altar of his mistakes to make things right and show Viktor he is loved, and to protect Viktor from the horrifically lonely fate of his future self. It doesn't get any more noble, loving, or self-sacrificing than that.

Because more than we like to see a character punished we like to see them learn from their mistakes and come back better. Jayce's S2 nobility is earned, perhaps even to excess, no one can question whether he suffered enough to make up for what he did in S1 but even the most uncharitable read of him in S1, his biggest hater, would have to agree his time spent starving to death in agony, alone in that cave for months, has got to be just about the worst punishment a human can face and live.

Which is one reason I must add that I find it a little puzzling that Arcane's creators didn't predict the hate that Caitlyn would get in S2.

Keep in mind, because this is very important, the Arcane creators did not make S2 in response to fan reactions to S1. S2 was already in production and the script was locked in and done before anyone outside their organizations saw S1. So nothing that happens in S2 is as a result of fan response.

But, the creators did understand that Jayce was going to need to suffer narrative punishment for what he did in S1 in order to be redeemed, whether they predicted how hated he would be after S1, they did predict that redemption would be necessary. And boy-howdy, did they give him a hell of a redemption arc!

But Caitlyn's S2 actions are almost in lock-step similar to Jayce's S1 actions, being manipulated (by a Medarda!) into accepting power, but maybe not having a choice in the matter, but still maybe expanding that power on their own because it is useful in its own right. Caitlyn also makes terrible mistakes. A child doesn't die but people in the undercity do get hurt during her rage-fuled raids, even if most of them are mob bosses and their goons. The narrative asks, does that make it right? Caitlyn like Jayce hurts the person closest to her who is from the undercity and uses bigoted language against the people of the undercity to Vi's face in much the same way that Jayce did to Viktor on the bridge, though in Jayce's defense, he apologized immediately after.

So, seeing how hated Jayce was coming out of S1, to the point where there's still barely any merchandise of him, I'm shaking my head rather ruefully that there was so much merch made for Caitlyn this time around. And I get it! Caitlyn and Vi were very popular after S1, they are intentionally THE main romance of the show and it was a very popular romance coming out of the innocence of their meet cute in S1.

But it's a romance that dearly needed a longer third act if you wanted Caitlyn to be as embraced after her mistakes as Jayce was after making up for his all through S2. You need to give her as long or at least as in-depth of a redemption act with as much suffering and acknowledgment of her mistakes if you want Vi and Caitlyn at the end to get celebrated the way Jayce making it up to Viktor is, because as much as I understand the choice to focus on pacing instead of exposition, and I do think Caitlyn's apology and realization of her mistakes are there on the page more than people complain, I do also agree that it is a bit "blink and you'll miss it" even if it's there. Jayce got a whole episode of being thrown into the Torment Nexus for his mistakes, real or imagined, if you didn't like him or his choices, you definitely got the sadistic glee of watching life kick the stuffing out of him for what he did in S1.

But besides her fight with Ambessa, which was a result of a confluence of many events in the story, not just Caitlyn's mistakes, Caitlyn doesn't really suffer much for the mistakes she made to those she loves. Her losing an eye to Ambessa didn't happen because she said bigoted things to Vi or became a short-term puppet dictator of Piltover. It was a result of Ambessa's actions and maneuvering more than it was a result of Caitlyn's personal mistakes to her loved ones.

In contrast, Jayce's time in the pit gave him the chance to reflect on and suffer for the the mistakes he made that led to the Anomaly that led to him being down in this pit, and what he would do to make it up to his loved ones like Viktor when he returned. Caitlyn never got a moment like that and from what I'm seeing of the vitriol directed towards her, so similar to what Jayce got after S1, it seems like she really needed it if we were going to like her to the same extent again, in a way uncomplicated by lingering questions about whether she ever truly learned the lessons her character needed to learn to grow as a person.

And it's just funny to me that a narrative that was so aware that this whole huge punishment arc was needed to rehabilitate Jayce wasn't aware that we'd need one for Caitlyn too, at least if they're going to move all that merch they made for her (please give us Jayce merch, Riot, I'm begging).

[xinganhao]

miscommunication too much communication 🗣️ soonyoung x reader.

an expansion from svt x reverse tropes. dedicated to @totomoshi, my love! ♡

FROM THE ORIGINAL POST

it's a little too hard to keep up with the string of confessions bursting out of soonyoung. the whiplash is dizzying, how he's going from talking about the way he felt when he first saw you, the crush that's been festering for weeks, the dream he had of you last night— and, oh, now he's on his knees. "soonyoung, please get up," you urge, horrified, but he stays on the ground. "isn't honesty the best policy?" he asks, eyes blown wide with overwhelming sincerity as he looks up at you. "c'mon, give me a shot! please, please, please!"

soonyoung who spams you with texts throughout the day. doesn't matter if you're on 'do not disturb'. he will hit that 'notify anyway' option, regardless of whether the text is load-bearing or not. you're lucky to get less than 20 texts in a day. his personal best is somewhere around 159 in a single day, which he's rather proud about.

soonyoung who will keep you on facetime for a minimum of three hours. he'll have you on call the entire night if he can manage, up until he gets that notification that his percentage is below 20 percent. waking up to the snoozing blonde on the other end of your long-forgotten video call is no longer a new sight.

soonyoung who will talk, and talk, and talk to you, no matter where you are. in a cafe? his hands are flying around animatedly as he gives you a play-by-play of his day. on the couch of your apartment? even better— he'll be playing all cute, trying to cuddle up in your personal space as he literally chats your ear off.

soonyoung listens as much as he speaks. you might think he doesn't, but he has a mental catalogue of every little thing you throw his way. a passing comment about your favorite candy as a child. that long-winded rant about an acquaintance you can't stand. he knows your coffee order, which shade of nail polish is your favorite, the songs that always make you cry. he is a wikipedia page of all things you.

soonyoung who is honest, because that's part of 'too much communication', isn't it? it's not quite bluntness; it's transparency. he's always gentle when admitting that you've hurt his feelings, or that he's been feeling a little lonely, missing you a lot more lately. one look at his face and you can already tell what he's about to say before he says it.

but you never have to guess. there are no mind games with soonyoung. he will dull the edges if he has to. he will agonize about how to break it, but he will break it to you, because he values the truth just as much as he cares for you.

soonyoung who is struck dumb when you confess to him, when you give him that piece of your heart that he's been patiently waiting on. he had imagined this moment; practiced his reaction in the bathroom mirror, even. he thought he'd be cool. maybe a bit suave. thank you. tell you that he reciprocated. instead, he finds himself robbed of every single thought clanging in his brain.

soonyoung is a man of many words, and yet you make him speechless.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[gf2bellamy]

Can you write about reader and Spencer’s wedding night and him helping reader take down her hair and wash off her makeup and take off her dress. And reader and Spencer being goofy and practicing calling each other husband and wife because they’re new titles that they’re so excited to use

wedding night — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader saying she's suffocating in her dress?😭 a/n: i hope i did your request justice !! <3 i hope you like it <333 ( i wanna be married to spencer so bad oh my god )

You stood behind Spencer, your fingers resting lightly against his back as you waited—not so patiently—for him to unlock the hotel room door. 

“Hurry up,” you huffed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I need to get out of this tight dress.” 

Spencer fumbled slightly with the keycard, mumbling something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

Finally, the lock clicked, and he pushed the door open, stepping aside to let you in first. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamps casting a warm ambiance over the space. Rose petals were scattered across the bed—a sweet surprise you hadn't expected—and the faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air. 

You barely had time to take it all in before Spencer turned to you, his eyes sweeping over you with the kind of admiration that made your breath catch. 

“You look beautiful,” he said softly. 

Something in the way he said it made your heart melt. It wasn’t just a compliment—it was a statement filled with pure admiration, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were his. 

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “Thank you, Spencer.” 

But then you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “But you’re going to have to appreciate my beauty without it now because I’m about to suffocate in this dress.” 

You turned around, exposing the intricate lacework of the back, and pulled your hair to one side.

There was a brief pause before you felt his fingers graze the zipper at the top of your dress. His touch was featherlight, almost hesitant, and the warmth of his hands sent a shiver down your spine. 

He took his time, carefully pulling the zipper down inch by inch, revealing the bare skin of your back. His fingers brushed against you ever so slightly, and despite the fact that you had been with him for years—had just married him today—his touch still made you shiver. 

Spencer let out a quiet breath, and you swore you could feel the warmth of it against your shoulder. 

“You have no idea how breathtaking you are,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

You turned your head slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror across the room. His gaze wasn’t just admiring—it was adoring. Like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. 

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you reached back, taking one of his hands in yours. “I think I do,” you said, squeezing his fingers gently. “Because you always make me feel that way.” 

Spencer exhaled softly, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, his lips lingering there for a moment. 

You smiled softly, the warmth of the moment still lingering between you and Spencer. But as the cool air hit your back from the half-open zipper, reality set in—you needed to get out of this dress completely and into something comfortable. 

Your eyes flickered around the room, searching for your bags. “Where did Penelope put our stuff?” you murmured, more to yourself than to Spencer. 

You were practically dreaming of slipping into one of his shirts—something soft, loose, and big enough to drown you in warmth. The thought alone made you sigh in relief. 

Spencer, still standing behind you, let his hand drop from your back, his fingers briefly brushing against your skin before he turned to scan the room. It didn’t take long for him to spot the neatly placed bags by the bed, courtesy of Penelope’s insistence on handling every little detail. 

Without a word, he walked over, unzipping one of the suitcases and pulling out a familiar button-down shirt. He held it out to you, his fingers lightly gripping the fabric. “Here,” he said softly, his gaze meeting yours. 

You smiled, taking it from him, your fingers brushing briefly. As he turned away to shrug off his suit jacket, you wasted no time in stepping out of the gown. The heavy fabric pooled at your feet, and you sighed in relief as the pressure around your torso was finally gone. 

Slipping Spencer’s shirt over your head, you felt instant comfort. It smelled like him—clean, warm, and familiar. The fabric hung loosely over your frame, the sleeves falling just past your wrists. You buttoned it up halfway before rolling the cuffs slightly, already feeling cozier than you had all night. 

By the time you turned back around, Spencer was standing near the dresser, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves. 

You couldn’t help but admire him for a second—how even after all these years, just looking at him could send warmth fluttering through your chest. 

Spencer glanced up just in time to catch you staring, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “You look good in my shirt,” he murmured, his voice softer than before. 

You grinned, hugging yourself slightly as you rocked on your heels. “I love your shirts. I think I might steal this one permanently.” 

You turned away from Spencer with a smile, heading into the bathroom. The moment you stepped inside, your eyes widened in pure awe. 

“Wow,” you breathed out, staring at the luxurious space in front of you. 

Spencer, hearing your reaction, quickly pulled on something more comfortable before following you inside. “What—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyebrows raising slightly as he took in the enormous bathroom. 

The walls were lined with elegant marble, a massive soaking tub sat in one corner, and a glass-enclosed rain shower took up nearly half the space. But what really caught your attention was the mirror—the biggest bathroom mirror you had ever seen. 

“I have never seen a bathroom this big,” you marveled, still taking it all in. 

Spencer chuckled softly behind you. “I think this is bigger than my first apartment.” 

Your gaze shifted to the countertop, and your heart swelled at what you saw. Lined up neatly beside the sink were a variety of makeup removers, cotton pads, and skincare essentials—things you hadn’t packed. 

“Oh my God,” you sighed happily, pressing a hand to your chest. “The girls are angels.” 

Penelope, JJ, and Emily must have planned this—always looking out for you, always making sure you had everything you needed. It was such a small gesture, yet it made you feel so loved. 

You reached for one of the makeup removers, ready to start wiping away the remnants of the long day, but before you could, Spencer stepped closer. 

“Let me help you,” he murmured, gently taking the bottle from your hands. 

You blinked up at him, a little surprised, but you didn’t protest. Instead, you let out a soft hum, leaning back slightly against the counter as he got to work. 

Spencer carefully poured the remover onto a cotton pad, then reached up, his fingers grazing your jaw as he began to wipe away the makeup with slow, featherlight strokes. 

His touch was so delicate—as if he was handling something rare and precious. His gaze was focused, brows slightly furrowed in concentration, and the warmth of his fingertips against your skin sent tiny shivers down your spine. 

You couldn’t help the soft smile that crept onto your lips. 

“Spencer?” you murmured. 

His eyes flickered to yours, pausing his movements slightly. “Hmm?” 

A grin tugged at your lips as you stared at him, really stared at him. The man standing in front of you—the man who was so impossibly brilliant, kind, and completely yours. 

“You know you’re my husband now?” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice as you grinned at the word. 

Spencer’s lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. He resumed his gentle strokes, wiping away the last traces of your makeup before whispering, “Yes.” 

He tilted his head slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheek in the softest caress. 

“And you’re my wife now,” he murmured. 

Your heart melted. 

Hearing that word from him—knowing that it was real, that you were truly his and he was yours—made you want to throw your arms around him and never let go. 

You bit your lip, happiness bubbling up inside you like an uncontrollable wave. “Say it again,” you whispered. 

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, his hands still cradling your face. He leaned in, pressing the lightest of kisses to your forehead before whispering against your skin: 

“My wife.” 

Your stomach fluttered, and you grinned at the sound of it. Wife. You were his wife. 

Spencer paused for a moment, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. Then, without a word, he set the makeup wipe aside and reached up, his fingers finding the pins holding your hair in place. 

You sighed as he carefully pulled them out one by one, loosening the strands from the elaborate style they had been twisted into all day. His fingers worked through your hair, letting it cascade freely around your shoulders. 

When he was done, he ran his hands through it gently, smoothing it out before tucking a stray piece behind your ear. 

“There,” he murmured, his voice laced with something deep and fond. “Perfect.” 

You met his gaze, your heart swelling at the sight of him—of you together, standing in this quiet moment as husband and wife. 

Spencer’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer against him. You let your hands rest on his back, leaning into his warmth. 

“I think I could get used to this,” you whispered. 

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his embrace tightening slightly. “Me too,” he murmured. “For the rest of my life.” 

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN ━━ Show a Little Loving

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

❀ ━ word count: 6.4K

❀ ━ warnings: detailed make out but it doesn’t go any further

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: think TATBILB

THE NEXT MORNING, Jo woke up feeling like she was in a completely different reality.

Nothing looked different—the room was the same, the dim winter light slipping through the curtains, the soft weight of the blankets tangled around her legs. The air in the cabin was cool, and the scent of coffee and something sweet, maybe cinnamon, lingered in the air from downstairs. Normal. Everything was normal.

Except for the fact that Jo was—and still is—decidedly not.

She’s never been less normal in her entire life.

Because for the first time in her entire life, she likes someone who isn’t Asher Davis.

And that someone is Paige.

When she woke up, Jo stayed frozen under the covers, trying to process it—like if she just laid there long enough, she could force her brain to make it not true. But the weight of it merely pressed down on her, undeniable, suffocating. She felt like she’d just unlocked some secret part of herself she wasn’t supposed to find, like she’d just opened a door that can’t be shut.

She spent the entire night tossing and turning, hyper-aware of every single thing Paige did.

The way Paige curled up beside her like she always does, shifting close like she’s drawn to Jo in her sleep. The way her breath tickled against Jo’s neck, steady and warm. The way she tucked her face into Jo’s shoulder, lips brushing against her skin. Jo barely slept because of it. She just laid there, rigid, heart hammering against her ribs like a drum, panicking.

And then later this morning, when they were brushing their teeth together in the tiny bathroom, Paige kept nudging her shoulder. Jo doesn’t even know if it was on purpose—Paige is like that, casual and comfortable, always touching Jo like it’s second nature—but Jo noticed. She felt it. And it was so stupid, so small, but it sent a wave of something through her, something warm and unbearable and foreign.

And now—now they’re on the ski lift, and Jo is trying so fucking hard to act normal.

It’s not going well.

Paige is sitting way closer than necessary, thighs pressed against Jo’s even though there’s a whole chunk of space open on the other side of the lift. The cold metal bar rests against their laps, and the mountains stretch out below them, snow-covered and endless, but Jo can’t focus on any of it.

She can only focus on Paige.

She doesn’t get it. Paige has always been touchy with her. They’ve shared a bed countless times, always leaned against each other, always sat too close. This isn’t new. This isn’t different. But now, it feels different. It’s like Jo’s senses have been turned all the way up, like she’s suddenly attuned to every single point of contact, like her body is tracking Paige without her permission.

And she doesn’t like it.

She shifts slightly, just enough to put some space between them, but Paige only grins and leans in closer, bumping their shoulders together. “You’re quiet,” Paige says. “Cold?”

Jo forces a shrug, not trusting her voice. She knows it’s uncharacteristic, but everything about her seems to be that way today.

Paige hums like she doesn’t quite believe her, but she doesn’t press.

Jo bites her tongue inside her mouth and stares straight ahead, pretending to be interested in the scenery, pretending her heart isn’t trying to climb out of her throat.

She cannot be weird about this.

She won’t be weird about this.

Because if Paige notices something is off, Jo has no explanation. What the hell is she supposed to say? Sorry, I just realized I have a thing for you and now I can’t function like a normal person anymore?

Absolutely not.

And worse—what if her family notices? They know her better than anyone. If she doesn’t get her shit together, they’ll realize something’s up.

Jo swallows hard, stomach twisting. She can hardly survive herself knowing this—if other people did, she doesn’t know what she’d do.

So she keeps her mouth shut, keeps her body still, and hopes to God this feeling will go away before she completely loses her mind.

And then, thankfully, they reach the top of the lift. Meaning Jo has something else to focus on.

Getting off of it on a snowboard isn’t hard, not really, but it’s definitely not something you want to mess up unless you enjoy face-planting in front of a bunch of strangers. Jo angles her board as the bench slows, pushing herself forward with practiced ease, gliding down the short slope leading away from the drop-off point. She turns just in time to watch Paige follow behind her, arms slightly outstretched, knees stiff.

Paige doesn’t fall—which is honestly impressive for a first-timer—but Jo can tell it’s more luck than skill.

They then make their way over to the side, where Jo’s family is already securing their bindings. Jo sees Paige watche, then follows suit, crouching down and clipping in her back foot like she’s done it before. For a second, Jo thinks maybe she has—that maybe she totally overestimated how difficult this was going to be.

Then Paige stands up.

And just stands there.

Jo doesn’t even have to say anything—she can see the exact moment Paige realizes she has no fucking clue what to do next.

The thing about snowboarding is that, once both feet are strapped in, there’s no casual shuffling around like with skis. You have to commit to your movements, shift your weight with intention, trust the board to follow. Paige, currently, looks like she doesn’t trust anything. She’s frozen in place, weight too evenly distributed, arms slightly hovering like she’s trying to counterbalance pure fear.

Jo’s family doesn’t notice. Of course they don’t. They’re already pushing off, racing down the slope like they forgot they just dragged a complete beginner onto what is definitely not a beginner run.

Which means it’s entirely Jo’s problem now.

Jo sighs and turns back to Paige, who immediately schools her expression into something completely nonchalant, like she wasn’t just panicking a second ago.

“I’m good,” Paige says, nodding.

Jo lifts a brow. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Paige insists, overconfident. “I ski all the time. How hard can it be?”

Jo snorts, shaking her head. “That’s like saying, ‘I can ride a bike, so how hard can a unicycle be?’”

Paige glares. “That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing.”

Paige groans but doesn’t argue further, which is good, because Jo is pretty sure that if she lets her go down the slope without at least trying to teach her something first, she’s going to have a very injured best friend by the end of the day.

Which—yeah, Paige doesn’t need any more injuries.

Jo drops down onto the snow, motioning for Paige to do the same. “Okay, before you kill yourself—”

Paige sighs. “Very encouraging, thanks.”

“—I’m gonna teach you the basics.”

Paige rolls her eyes but listens as Jo explains how to shift her weight, how to stop using her heel edge, how to not immediately die the second she starts moving. She nods along like she gets it, but Jo knows she doesn’t, because when she tells her to try stopping, Paige just stares at her.

“Like this,” Jo demonstrates, digging into her heel edge and coming to a smooth stop.

Paige squints. “I don’t think my feet can do that.”

Jo gives her a look. “They can. You just have to actually try.”

Paige glares at her, then attempts it—and immediately wobbles so hard she almost eats it.

Jo bites her lip, trying so hard not to laugh, because she knows if she does, Paige will shove her straight into the snow.

Still, watching Paige struggle is… entertaining.

Actually, no, it’s worse than entertaining, because Jo is finding it way too endearing, and that is a problem.

But it’s hard, because Jo is stuck here watching Paige, her flushed cheeks, her concentrated little frown, the way she huffs whenever she messes up but refuses to ask for more help.

Jo has to get it together.

She clears her throat and moves on to the next part—teaching Paige the “falling leaf” technique, which goes just about as well as expected. Paige flails. A lot. She makes little frustrated noises, glares at Jo when she tries to help, insists she’s got it even when she absolutely does not have it.

Jo grins, probably too much, but she can’t help it. She’s never seen Paige like this before. Paige is good at everything—basketball, school, literally any sport she tries—but right now, she’s an absolute disaster.

And Jo finds it so ridiculously cute, it makes her chest constrict.

Why, why, why, why, why?

By the time they move on to full turns, Paige is mildly competent. She’s still wobbly, still too tense, but she starts linking her turns together, starts actually looking like she knows what she’s doing.

Jo watches her, nodding approvingly. “Look at you.”

Paige looks at her, grinning wide, blonde hair slipping out from under her beanie, flushed from the cold, happy.

And Jo—Jo feels something tight in her chest.

Something warm and annoying and confusing and—

She tears her gaze away before it turns into something worse.

Eventually, they decide Paige is ready for the slope.

Jo isn’t entirely sure that’s true, but there’s only so much practicing they can do before Paige gets impatient and wants to actually go somewhere. And Jo gets it. She does. Paige isn’t the type to sit around mastering the basics—she’d rather dive in headfirst, figure it out on the way down.

Which is how they end up at the top of the easier slope—the one Jo’s family didn’t go down.

It’s still not technically beginner-friendly, but it’ll have to do.

Jo studies Paige as she shakes out her arms, shifting her weight back and forth like she’s hyping herself up. She’s still pretending she’s not nervous, but Jo can see it in the way she breathes in deep, lips slightly parted, exhaling like she’s about to take a game-winning shot instead of just… sliding down a hill.

Jo shakes her head, telling the blonde, “You’re gonna be fine.”

Paige doesn’t meet her eyes. “Yep,” she says, sounding uncharacteristically unenthusiastic.

“Mhm,” Jo confirms.

Paige rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. Instead, she pulls on her goggles. And then she takes a final breath, gives Jo one last I’m totally calm and confident nod, then pushes off.

Jo follows immediately, ready to intervene if Paige immediately eats shit.

She doesn’t.

In fact, Paige actually does an okay job.

She’s still stiff, still a little too tense, but she’s making turns, shifting her weight properly, keeping herself upright. Jo even hears her let out a small whoop at one point, though it quickly turns into something that sounds suspiciously like a scream before she regains control again.

Jo has to laugh. “Not bad, huh?”

Paige breathes out hard. “I’m doin’ great, thank you.”

Jo grins but doesn’t argue. Paige’s balance is still shaky, but she’s improving with every turn, her confidence visibly building—until they get too close.

Jo realizes it a second too late.

She shifts left, trying to create space, but Paige is still a beginner, and she wobbles at the exact wrong time. She catches an edge, stumbling forward, and Jo barely has time to react before she gets caught in it.

“Shit—”

Then, they’re both tumbling.

Jo crashes backward into the snow with a heavy thud, the impact sending a jolt up her spine, her board kicking up powder. Paige lands right on top of her, effectively knocking the air out of her lungs.

Jo groans, blinking up at the sky for a second before lifting a gloved hand to shove her goggles up.

“Shit, bro, that hurt,” Paige mutters against her chest, fumbling with her own goggles, breath puffing out in visible clouds.

Jo exhales sharply, trying to process—not the fall, not the pain, but the fact that Paige is on top of her, head pressing into her heavily layered chest like it belongs there.

She’s too close.

Jo feels it everywhere—Paige’s weight, the warmth of her breath against the fabric of Jo’s jacket, the way her hand is braced against Jo’s sides as she tries to push up, but she’s still struggling with her goggles, fingers catching on the strap.

Jo shakes her head. “You’re a mess—”

Without thinking, she reaches up, gloved fingers brushing against Paige’s cold skin as she pushes her goggles back, slipping them up over her helmet.

Paige shakes her head a little, her other hand dropping to Jo’s side to keep herself balanced.

The world is quiet around them—just the muffled sounds of distant snowboarders, the crunch of powder under shifting weight, the occasional gust of wind.

Paige blinks down at Jo, blue eyes so blue in the snow-bright lighting, her face flushed from exertion, from the cold, maybe from something else too.

And Jo—Jo can’t look away.

Her chest tightens.

Her fingers are still against Paige’s face, and Paige isn’t moving, isn’t pulling back, just watching her with something unreadable in her expression.

Jo’s gaze flickers down—to Paige’s lips, slightly chapped but still soft, still way too close to her own.

And for a second, for one reckless, impulsive, insane second, Jo thinks about leaning in.

The thought sends a jolt through her.

She shoves it down so fast it makes her stomach churn, immediately pushing Paige off of her before she can even fully process what just happened.

“You’re too heavy to be laying on me like that,” she says, trying for humor, but the words come out a little strangled.

Paige grabs her own bearings, letting out a startled laugh, sitting up on her knees. “Hey!”

Jo rolls over, sitting up quickly, dusting snow off her sleeves, trying to act normal, trying to breathe properly, trying not to think about how she almost—

God.

She can’t do this.

PAIGE STEPS out of the bedroom, rubbing at her arms as a shiver wracks through her. She knew changing into just a t-shirt and sweatpants was a bad idea, but her sweatshirt is still damp from falling in the snow earlier, and putting it back on felt like asking for hypothermia. She’ll have to live with it, she guesses, even if the cold air nips at her skin, goosebumps rising along her forearms.

The day has been long, another one spent out on the slopes. Since Paige’s first time on a board yesterday, she’s improved tenfold, and today had been much much more enjoyable, only a few falls to round it out.

She hears movement in the kitchen as she rounds the corner, the soft clinking of mugs and the faint hum of Jo moving around.

Paige slows her steps.

Jo’s back is to her, standing at the counter, stirring something in a mug—hot chocolate, probably, based on the rich scent of cocoa that lingers in the air. The sight of Jo, standing there so effortlessly domestic, makes something warm curl low in Paige’s stomach.

Paige is used to it, at this point. It happens constantly, the unshakable heat that rises whenever Jo does literally anything. Yesterday, it had been on the slope, when Jo helped her up from the snow, when she brushed Paige’s hair out of her face, when she looked at her with something so unreadable, so intense, that Paige had felt frozen in place.

And now—now, it’s just the way Jo stands there, all soft and warm and anything but hers in the low light of the kitchen.

Paige hesitates for a second, then smirks to herself, an idea forming in her head. She moves quietly, barely making a sound as she steps up behind Jo, hands flexing at her sides, anticipation bubbling in her chest.

Then, before Jo can realize what’s happening, Paige strikes—

Cold hands pressing firmly against the back of Jo’s neck.

Jo screams.

It’s high-pitched, startled, and absolutely hilarious.

She jolts forward, nearly sloshing cocoa over the counter, then whirls around, eyes wild, before smacking Paige’s arm, sending a weak but retaliatory shove into her shoulder.

“What is wrong with you?” Jo yelps, voice still breathless from the shock.

Paige is cackling, clutching her stomach. “Oh my God, your face—”

Jo glares at her, rubbing at the back of her neck with a dramatic shudder. “You suck. I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Paige grins, stepping beside her, nudging her lightly with her hip. Jo just mutters something under her breath and turns back to the counter, still grumbling as she grabs another mug and pours some hot chocolate for Paige, shoving it at her without another word.

They end up drinking together, leaning against the counter in a comfortable quiet, warmth settling between them.

Paige takes a sip of her cocoa, sighing into the comforting heat, before glancing over at Jo—only to immediately snort.

Jo blinks at her, confused. “What?”

Paige just shakes her head, grinning. “Joey, you got a little—”

She gestures vaguely, but Jo just frowns, not getting it, so Paige doesn’t think much before she lifts her hand, reaching out, swiping her thumb carefully across Jo’s upper lip to wipe away the hot-chocolate mustache.

And Paige—Paige really should’ve thought about what she was doing before she did it.

Because suddenly, Jo is looking at her.

Really, really looking at her.

Those wide, dark eyes staring up at Paige, so open, so deep, so endlessly fucking beautiful, and Paige’s breath catches somewhere in her throat.

Her thumb lingers at the corner of Jo’s mouth, pressing lightly into the soft skin there, and Jo doesn’t move. Paige doesn’t even think she breathes.

Her lips part, and Paige’s gaze drops, just for a second, just long enough for something unspoken to crackle between them, thick and heavy and—

The sound of footsteps breaks them apart.

Paige jolts, snatching her hand away so fast it’s almost unnatural.

Jo takes a sharp breath, blinking rapidly, stepping back, shifting away.

And then Peyton waltzes in, completely oblivious to the moment she just shattered, announcing cheerfully, “I’m making cookies, and you two are gonna be my helpers.”

Paige’s heart is still racing, and she shoots a glance at Jo, who looks… composed, somehow, like she didn’t just—like they didn’t just—

But Paige knows her.

She sees the way Jo’s fingers twitch against the mug she’s holding, the way her jaw clenches just slightly, the way her shoulders are drawn just a little too tight.

And Paige knows.

Whatever that was—Jo felt it too.

It doesn’t really undo anything in Paige like it should. Because, recently, things have just been like that. It’s weird.

Paige swallows hard, turning back to Peyton with a too-easy grin. “Oh, yeah, we’ll totally help.”

Jo lets out a quiet laugh beside her, and when Paige glances over, she finds her smirking too, They both know they’ll be no help—if anything, they’ll be a nuisance, eating all of the dough before Peyton can even put it in the oven.

For now, the tension’s been almost buried under something playful, something safe.

But still—Paige knows.

She felt it.

And no matter how hard Jo tries to act normal, no matter how hard Paige tries to shove it down—

It’s still there.

JO LEAVES Mia’s bedroom, closing the door softly behind her as she rakes a hand through her hair. The faint scent of strawberry-scented hair chalk clings to her hoodie, and her fingertips are slightly stained pink and blue from helping Mia color streaks into her light brown hair. It had been cute, how excited she was about it—sitting cross-legged on the bed, practically vibrating with energy as Jo carefully twisted sections of her hair and dragged the chalk down in soft strokes.

Jo’s family does their gifts on Christmas Eve—Jo’s parents are firm believers in the magic of sleeping in on Christmas morning, rather than waking up at the crack of dawn to open presents—and tonight, was just the same as always. The living room had been a mess of ripped wrapping paper and scattered boxes just an hour ago, Jo and her sisters laughing over their gifts, their parents watching with fond amusement. Paige had fit into it like she belonged there, pressed beside Jo for the entirety of it.

Jo frowns slightly as she steps into the hallway, suddenly aware of the quiet that’s settled over the cabin. It had been loud earlier—Peyton arguing with their dad over the rules of a board game, Mia showing off her new gifts, Christmas music playing softly in the background—but now, it’s peaceful. Dim lighting, the distant hum of conversation from the living room. She wonders where Paige went.

She heads toward the kitchen, where her mom is finishing up the last of the dishes, running water humming over the faint clatter of plates. “Where’s P?” Jo asks, leaning against the doorway.

Her mom doesn’t even glance up as she says, “Oh, I think she went out to the hot tub.”

Jo nods, but her chest tightens, just a little.

She turns on her heel and makes her way to the room she and Paige are sharing, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. She exhales, standing still for a moment, debating.

She thinks about joining Paige. Thinks that it’s normal for best friends to do that, to sit in the hot tub together after a long day, soak in the warmth and relax. But she also knows herself, and she knows the way her thoughts have been slipping these last few days, the way she catches herself looking at Paige for too long, noticing things she shouldn’t be noticing. She knows that if she goes out there, if she lets herself be alone with Paige like that, she might not be able to control the way her mind wanders.

Whatever, she decides. She wants to get in the hot tub.

So, she grabs the bikini she packed, changing quickly before wrapping herself in a towel. The air in the cabin is warm, but she knows the second she steps outside, the mountain air will cut through her like a blade. Still, she forces herself forward, padding toward the back deck, bare feet light against the wood floor.

When she opens the back door, the cold hits her immediately, biting at her exposed skin. She shivers, hissing, “Shit, it’s freezing out here.”

Paige startles slightly, turning her head. She’s sitting in the hot tub alone, the water bubbling gently around her, steam rising in wisps. Her eyes catch the deck light for a second, flickering bright, and she huffs a quiet laugh. “It’s warmer in here.”

Jo rolls her eyes, setting her towel down on a nearby chair. “Oh, really?” she says, sarcastic, before stepping into the hot tub.

And then her gaze fully lands on Paige, and—well, fuck.

She looks good.

It’s not like Jo hasn’t seen Paige in a sports bra, in oversized sweats, in all kinds of casual, effortless outfits. But this is different. Her blonde hair is down, slightly wavy, damp at the ends. Her bikini is turquoise, standing out against her skin, making her eyes even more blue in the soft deck lighting. And—shit, Jo shouldn’t be looking—her biceps. Jo knows she’s been training through her ACL recovery, knows she’s been getting stronger, but she hasn’t let herself really notice until now. Hasn’t let herself register the way Paige’s arms look, the lean muscle in her shoulders. And then there’s the cross chain hanging at her collarbone, resting against her skin, catching just enough light to make it glint faintly.

Jo swallows hard, forcing herself to look away, sinking into the water as she exhales. The warmth is immediate, a contrast to the crisp night air, and she tries to focus on that instead of the low, lazy grin Paige is giving her.

“You finally decided to join me,” Paige murmurs, shifting slightly, the water rippling around her.

Jo smirks, because it’s easier than letting anything real show. “Yeah, well, I figured you’d get lonely.”

Paige rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, stretching her arms along the edge of the hot tub, tilting her head back slightly. Jo catches herself staring at the curve of her throat, the faint glisten of water against her collarbone, and quickly looks away.

This is fine.

Paige doesn’t seem to notice the way Jo’s whole body is too tight, too aware, too much as she leans back against the edge of the hot tub. Instead, she shifts slightly, gaze flickering away from Jo, looking out toward the mountains. Jo follows her line of sight, letting herself focus on the view instead of the heat curling in her stomach, the undeniable feeling of wanting something she isn’t supposed to want.

The view really is something.

The mountains stretch high and dark against the night sky, the peaks dusted with snow, the stars scattered above them like someone spilled glitter across the horizon. The air is sharp with the scent of pine and frost, the only sounds the occasional distant rustle of wind through trees and the soft bubbling of the water around them. Jo’s been coming here since she was a kid, since before she could even really appreciate how incredible it was. It never gets old.

Paige exhales, voice quiet, almost reverent. “It’s kinda perfect here.”

Jo glances at her again, at the way the dim deck lights reflect in her eyes, making them almost glow. And for a second, Jo doesn’t think she’s talking about the view at all.

“Yeah,” Jo agrees, looking away, looking anywhere else. “It is.”

Silence settles between them, thick but not uncomfortable. Jo tries to let herself relax into it, but then she hears the shift of water, the subtle movement before she feels it—before she realizes that Paige is moving closer to her.

She tenses before she can stop herself, her fingers curling under the water.

And then Paige is looking at her again, something soft in her gaze, something almost vulnerable, like she wants to say something but isn’t sure if she should. It’s a rare look for Paige, whose confidence is as natural as breathing, who always seems to know exactly what to say and when to say it.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Paige says, and her voice is quiet but serious, enough that it throws Jo off for a second.

Jo swallows, holding eye contact with her for a long moment before looking down at the water, watching the way the steam curls off the surface. Her face suddenly feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the hot tub. “Well, it’s not like I’d ever let you stay at campus by yourself on Christmas,” she murmurs.

Paige tilts her head slightly, considering that. “Yeah,” she says slowly, “but a lot of people wouldn’t have just let someone tag along with their family for the holidays.”

Jo looks up again, furrowing her brows, because the way Paige says it—like she was expecting Jo not to invite her—rubs her the wrong way. “You’re not just any someone, though, P,” she says, voice firm. “You’re my—”

She stops short, the words catching in her throat, because—well…

She doesn’t actually know what this is anymore.

She’s never let herself think too hard about it, about the way they slipped into each other’s lives so fast, like gravity pulling them together. Her roommate, her teammate, her best friend. But none of those words feel right for this, for the way her heart is hammering, for the way Paige is looking at her.

Paige shifts closer still, the movement rippling through the water, stealing the air from Jo’s lungs.

“Hm?” Paige hums, like she’s waiting for Jo to finish.

Jo forces herself to breathe, gripping the edge of seat in the hot tub just to have something to do with her hands. She exhales sharply, shaking her head once, barely. “You’re just—my person,” she settles on, because best friend doesn’t suit the way her pulse is thrumming, doesn’t suit the way her entire body is tuned into Paige’s every shift, every breath.

She makes eye contact again, and—Paige isn’t looking at her eyes anymore.

She’s looking at Jo’s lips.

That’s definitely not something best friends do.

Jo’s stomach flips violently, her entire body going stiff with tension, with awareness, with want. Paige’s gaze flickers back up, just for a second, and Jo swears she sees something shift in her expression—like realization, like something clicking into place, like maybe, maybe she’s been thinking about this just as much as Jo has.

The air between them is heavy, electric, charged with something neither of them are saying.

And then it snaps all at once when Paige shifts even closer, so close Jo can feel the faintest brush of her knee against hers under the water, and Paige says, “Jo?”

It’s quiet, almost hesitant, and it’s the first time Jo has ever heard Paige say her name like that, like it means something more.

It undoes her completely.

She doesn’t think. Doesn’t even hesitate.

She just moves.

Leans in instead of pulling away, lets her eyes flicker shut as she presses her lips to Paige’s, her heart slamming against her ribs.

And Paige—Paige doesn’t pull away.

Paige kisses her back.

It’s soft at first, like they’re both testing the waters, and Jo melts into it, lets herself get lost in the warmth of it. Paige’s lips are soft, gentle against hers, and Jo feels like she could drown in the way Paige tilts her head just slightly, deepening the kiss.

And then—something shifts.

The hesitation begins to fade. Paige moves in closer, her hands finding the skin of Jo’s waist under the water, and Jo exhales shakily against the blonde’s mouth because oh.

Paige kisses like she plays basketball—effortless, confident, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Like she’s taking her time memorizing Jo, mapping her out piece by piece. Jo barely has time to process it before her body reacts on instinct, her fingers reaching out, finding Paige’s shoulders, gripping just tight enough to keep her as close as possible.

The heat between them rises, spreading through Jo’s chest, making her lightheaded. She’s hasn’t felt something like this in a long time—if ever, really. This dizzying, overwhelming need. She can’t remember if it was ever like this was Asher. Jo was always just so used to him—but Paige… Paige is entirely different.

Paige kisses fast yet slow, soft yet rough, the perfect mix. She shifts again, pressing in closer, and Jo can’t help but chase her, tilting her head, her fingers slipping up from Paige’s shoulders to thread into damp blonde hair. Paige makes a soft, pleased sound against her lips, and Jo swears she feels it all the way down to her toes.

Jo’s needy now, desperate in a way that catches her off guard, but she hardly finds it in herself to care. She tightens her grip on Paige, her nails digging into her scalp, pulling her impossibly closer because it’s still not enough.

Jesus fuck, Paige is a good kisser.

The blonde lets Jo take control for a moment, lets Jo press her back against the edge of the hot tub, but then—just as quickly—Paige is taking the lead again. Her grip on Jo’s waist tightens, fingers pressing into slick, warm skin as she shifts them, pulling Jo forward, guiding her onto her lap. Jo’s breath stutters as her bare thighs press against Paige’s, her knees pressing into the edge of the seat on either of Paige’s hips.

Paige’s grip is firm, her touch sure and steady in a way that makes Jo’s skin feel like it’s burning.

She should say something, do something, anything other than let out the small, helpless sound that slips past her lips as Paige pulls her in tighter.

But she does. And Paige hears it.

And something about it—about that quiet, desperate little noise—seems to spur Paige on, because then she’s tilting her head, chasing Jo’s lips again, capturing them in a kiss that’s deeper, hungrier than before. Her tongue slips into Jo’s mouth, licking around, and Jo inhales sharply at it.

Jo’s mind is a mess, spinning wildly, but all she can focus on is this—Paige, the way she tastes, the way she feels, the way every press of her lips, every swipe of her tongue, sends electricity straight through Jo’s veins.

The second Paige’s lips leave hers, Jo almost whimpers at the loss.

Her breath is uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly as moves beneath her, her lips ghosting away from Jo’s mouth, trailing down, down, down—until they’re pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the sharp line of her jaw.

Jo swears she forgets how to breathe, her hand tightening in Paige’s hair, half-gripping her chain, as well.

Paige doesn’t stop. She presses a kiss to the spot just beneath Jo’s ear, and Jo shudders, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair. She can feel the heat of Paige’s breath against her skin, feel the way Paige’s lips part just enough for her tongue to sweep out.

Paige’s hands grip onto the skin of Jo’s waist before one begins to slide up, fingertips tracing Jo’s spine before settling firmly at the back of Jo’s neck, holding her in place. Paige’s other hand trails from her hip, down to the curve of Jo’s ass, palming and kneading it in a way that makes the brunette feel the need to clench her thighs together—anything to relieve the ache growing between them.

Instead, she makes a noise—something soft and high-pitched, something that she doesn’t even realize she’s made until Paige reacts to it.

Paige groans a little, exhaling sharply, her lips nipping along the column of Jo’s throat, her tongue sweeping across the skin to soothe it. Jo’s head tips back before she can stop herself, before she can think, before she can do anything other than feel.

And God, she feels everything.

Paige’s mouth, Paige’s hands, the firm grip keeping her exactly where Paige wants her.

Jo’s heart pounds, and she doesn’t know if it’s from heat of the water or the heat of Paige, but she feels like she’s burning from the inside out.

She tries not to think about what this means, about how everything is changing, about how she’ll have to deal with this later.

She tries not to think about whether Paige wants this the same way she does.

Paige has a roster. That much, Jo knows. She’s seen it, heard it, talked to some of it—mostly just Celeste, but still. Jo knows that all of this stuff is casual and fleeting for Paige, just another part of her life.

But Jo isn’t like that. She doesn’t do this kind of thing. She doesn’t let herself get swept up in the moment, something that could be nothing, in something that might not mean anything to the other person. Seriously, she literally dated the same person for nearly six fucking years.

But then—what could this be? Paige is her best friend, her teammate, her roommate. If they became something more, they couldn’t fuck it up because it could ruin everything. Not to mention the fact that it hasn’t even been a month since Jo and Asher broke up. She’s still trying to mend that crack in her heart.

All of these thoughts should make her pull away. It should make her stop.

But they don’t.

Because right now, with Paige’s lips on her neck and her hands holding Jo so close, it feels like none of that even matters.

Right now, Jo doesn’t care if this is just another fleeting thing for Paige or if she should even be doing this with a break-up so fresh.

Because right now, Paige wants her.

And Jo wants Paige.

So, she lets herself have it.

She tightens her grip in Paige’s hair, tugs just slightly, just enough to pull Paige’s mouth back to hers, just enough to draw another satisfied sound from Paige’s throat. Paige’s nose nudges Jo’s as she tilts her head, pressing into the kiss again, deep and slow and absolutely devastating.

And Jo lets herself get lost in it.

That is, until the sound of the back door opening shudders around them.

Jo feels her entire body jolt like she’s been electrocuted. The heat from the hot tub is nothing compared to the fire scorching under her skin, the way her heart slams against her ribs like it’s trying to break free. Beside her, Paige reacts just as quickly—springing away, water sloshing violently between them, the absence of her warmth immediately and startling. Jo doesn’t dare look at her, doesn’t dare move, because if she does, she’ll have to genuinely acknowledge what’s just happened. She’ll have to process the way her lips still tingle, the way her chest is still heaving, the way Paige was just kissing her like she fucking meant it.

But she doesn’t have time for that, not when Mia—innocent, unsuspecting Mia—is standing by the back door in her little Rudolph-themed swimsuit, eyes bouncing between Jo and Paige like she’s trying to put the pieces together.

“Hi…” the little girl says slowly, tilting her head.

Paige is the one that moves first.

“Um,” she stammers, her voice higher than usual, her hands flexing uselessly at her sides as she stands up too fast, nearly slipping in the water. “I’mma—uh, I’m just gonna—shower. Yeah—shower.”

Jo watches, still slightly frozen where she sits, as Paige snatches up her towel with more urgency than necessary and books it inside without so much as a glance back. The door slides shut behind her, leaving only the ghost of her presence and the realization of what’s just occurred.

Jo is still stuck, still trying to catch up, still trying to make sense of the fact that she kissed Paige—she kissed Paige—and Paige kissed her back—and—

And then Mia lowers herself into the water, grinning.

That fucking grin.

Jo narrows her eyes before Mia can even open her mouth. “Don’t.”

Because… yeah, she just—can’t talk about this yet. Maybe never.

Jo clenches her jaw, her teeth grinding together as she stares down at her hands as if they hold all the answers. Maybe they do—because just moments ago, they were holding Paige.

Jesus, what has she gotten herself into?

[siriusly-t1red]

Shadows and Light

Summary: Reader finally confesses to Azriel after secretly pining for years

CW: Fluff

The Velaris night was quiet, the city bathed in the soft glow of the stars. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of jasmine and night-blooming flowers. You found yourself standing on the balcony of the House of Wind, your heart pounding in your chest.

Azriel stood a few feet away from you, his back to the railing, his wings tucked close to his body. His shadowy presence was both comforting and intimidating, a paradox that had always intrigued you. His eyes, dark and unfathomable, were fixed on the horizon, but you knew he was aware of your presence.

"Azriel," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. You cleared your throat, trying to steady the tremor in your voice. "There's something I need to tell you."

He turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering to you for a moment before returning to the horizon. "I'm listening," he said, his voice as smooth and deep as ever.

You took a deep breath, the words you had rehearsed countless times tumbling out in a rush. "I—I think I'm in love with you."

The air seemed to still around you, the night's gentle breeze forgotten. Azriel's wings shifted slightly, a sign of his inner turmoil. He didn't respond immediately, and the silence stretched between you like a tightrope.

"I know this is... unexpected," you continued, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "And I understand if you don't feel the same way. I just needed to get it off my chest."

Azriel finally turned to face you fully, his expression unreadable. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words," he said softly, his voice laced with emotion.

You blinked, surprised by his admission. "You... you've waited?"

He nodded, his wings rustling as he took a step closer to you. "Every time I saw you, every time we spoke, I wanted to tell you how I felt. But I was afraid. Afraid of losing you, of making things awkward between us."

Your heart skipped a beat. "You... you feel the same way?"

Azriel's eyes darkened, a shadow passing over them. "More than you know.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm. “Am I dreaming?”

Azriel's wings unfurled, casting a wide shadow over the balcony. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "If you are then so am I ," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You leaned into his touch, your heart pounding in your chest.

And then, he kissed you. It was gentle at first, a tentative exploration of lips and emotions. But as the kiss deepened, it became something more—something raw and powerful. The shadows around you seemed to swirl, as if drawn to the intensity of your connection.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Azriel's eyes were dark with desire and something more—something that looked a lot like hope.

"I never thought I'd find someone who could see me for who I am," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don’t fear me. Have never shied away from my shadows or scars."

You smiled, your heart full. "I could never fear you."

He leaned in again, enrapturing your lips once more. Your tongues danced along each other, memorizing every crevice of the other's mouth. The longer you kissed, the more desire began to fill within you.

“Shit, now I owe Feyre 100 gold coins,” A voice cursed from behind you, causing you two to jump apart.

Your face flushed as you saw Cassian leaning against the door frame, a smirk plastered across his face. "I knew you two had something going on," he said, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "I just didn't think it would happen so soon."

Azriel's wings rustled, and he shot Cassian a warning glance. "This is hardly the time for your jokes, Cassian," he said, his voice low but not unkind.

Cassian raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not here to ruin the moment. I just wanted to see if my bet with Feyre was going to pay off."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension easing from your shoulders. "You bet on us?"

Cassian nodded, his smirk widening. "Oh, absolutely. Feyre had a feeling you'd confess your feelings tonight. I thought it would take a bit longer, but hey, I'm not complaining."

Azriel let out a soft sigh, his wings settling back against his body. "You and Feyre have a strange way of showing your support."

Cassian chuckled, pushing off the door frame and stepping onto the balcony. "We like to keep things interesting. Besides, it's not every day we get to see the Shadowmaster fall head over heels."

Azriel's cheeks flushed a deep red, and he glanced at you, his expression softening. "I suppose I have no choice but to admit it now."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'm glad you did."

Cassian clapped his hands together, his grin still firmly in place. "Well, I'll leave you two to your... moment. Try not to make me an uncle too soon."

With a final wink, Cassian disappeared back into the house, leaving you and Azriel alone on the balcony.

Azriel turned to you, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry about him," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. "Don't be. He's just being Cassian."

Azriel's expression softened, and he reached out to take your hand in his. "We have minutes before he tells the others."

You squeezed his hand, smiling. "Then let's make the most of this peace before it's gone."

Azriel leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. The shadows around you seemed to dance, as if celebrating the connection between you.

As you kissed, the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet, starlit night. The city of Velaris was silent, the night air filled with the scent of jasmine and night-blooming flowers.

And in that moment, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. With Azriel by your side, there was nothing to fear.

The shadows and the light had found their balance.

[rockinglikemotley]

Something, something, Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish thinking you’re cute at the bar but… you have eyes for someone else.

The 1-4-1 boys were in America on a mission. They were extremely out of place in the Deep South, but they gotta do what they gotta do. They had one rest day and decided to head to a bar that looked a little run down on the outside, but the lot was filled with cars and trucks. People stood outside, conversing with one another as they smoked cigarettes with a bottle of beer in their hands. Their accents were loud and drawn out as they spoke about the town drama.

Johnny was the first one inside seeing as this was his idea to go get a pint before they continued on their mission the next day. Gaz followed him inside with Simon and John right behind them. Simon scanned the room for anything odd or out of place as they went up to the bar to get themselves some drinks before going and sitting at one of the few high tables there was.

People were all around, some stumbling, some singing along with the singer on the stage, and many of them dancing together at the slower song being sung. Johnny turned around in his seat to watch the girl on stage sing. “Oi. She’s a looker.” He smirked, nudging Kyle with his elbow and pointing up to the stage. “Oh yeah she’s quite fit.” He agreed with a nod of his head. John shook his head at the young men of his team while he took a drink of his draft beer. Simon sat stoically as her usually did, a glass of bourbon sat between his big hands.

The song changed into another slow country tune making the scenery of the bar slightly solemn. The lights cast an orangey hue, people weren’t as rowdy as the 141 thought they were going to be, and the slow song being sung brought everyone together. Couples danced, women were spun in slow circles, and people shared kisses in the sea of cowboy hats.

Simon finally looked to the stage after deeming the bar was safe from any potential threats. He always sat facing the door, so with his head turned he gazed upon he country singer on stage. From under a tan cowboy hat came long (H/C) hair and a sweet face. The woman sat upon a stool, even while singing her lips sat in a light pout, colored in a pretty pink color that shined in the light above her. She was in a matching denim vest and flared jean outfit with silver and turquoise jewelry. She was easily one of the most prettiest women in the bar, but Simon kept that thought to himself.

Especially when Johnny had his eyes glued to her like a dog with a bone.

As time went on, the guys nursed their drinks, Johnny and Kyle going back to the bar a few times to get more. Simon and John talked amongst each other as Soap and Gaz looked around the bar for a lady for Kyle. The pretty country woman on stage had ended her song, taking the mic in her hands and standing from the stool she had been sitting on. “Alright y’all,” Came her sweet southern drawl with a rasp to it. Johnny’s head snapped towards the stage with a boyish grin on his face.

“I’m gettin’ tha’ lassie’s number so help me God.” He uttered to Gaz who laughed and listened in on what the singer had to say. “This is our last song for the night so I hope y’all brought your dancin’ boots.” Her smile was gleaming as she moved her long hair over her shoulder and turned back to her band. Her guitarist started the tune and some of the crowd started to cheer with excitement towards the song. The pretty woman laughed into the mic, “I know y’all like Reba now!” She pointed to the people in the front.

“Steamin’ Jesus. She’s bloody fit.” Johnny huffed and downed the rest of his drink as his fair lady sang ‘Fancy’ by Reba. He was familiar with the redheaded country singer, Dolly as well. All thanks to his mother who had little shrines for them both. She often made him swear to them if she thought he was lying. “That she is.” Gaz chuckled as they watched her dance with the sway of her hips, her free hand raised above her head.

Johnny was damn near bouncing in his seat by the time her set was finished. John couldn’t help but laugh something low at the young man sitting across from him. Simon just huffed at his antics and watched him go off to find his ‘dream girl’ - Johnny’s words - as soon as she stepped off the stage. His mohawked head disappeared in the sea of people and orange light.

Johnny had a few close calls of almost running people over to get to the stage’s exit. He merely send absentminded apologies and went on his merry way to find the pretty country singer. He stood by the exit, watching as her guitarists walked out together, chuckling, as they fixed their hats and bolo ties. Then the drummer of the band came out and finally here came the singer.

He could see her darkened silhouette coming down the hall. Her full hips swaying as she walked, the muffled clack of her boots against the hard flooring. She was lucky she looked up in time to stop just before him or else she would’ve ran into his broad chest. “Oh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” She giggled, her accent making Johnny fawn all over again. “Ach. It’s okay.” He waved it off. Her brows raised at the sound of his thick Scottish accent. “Wow. You’re far from home.” She pointed out with a toothy grin.

“I came all this way just to see you.” Johnny smoothly joked with her. The apples of her cheeks went pink as she tipped her head back and laughed. “Hope it was worth it.”

“It’ll be more worth it if I could buy you a drink.” Soap smirked down at her, his big arms crossed over his chest. “Alright.” She nodded and off they went through the crowd to the bar. They ordered their drinks and while she wasn’t looking he turned his head over his shoulder to give his team members a big grin before turning back to her. “I’m Johnny.” He introduced himself, thankful the bar was lowkey and wasn’t loud so he didn’t have to yell his introduction. “I’m y/n. Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? Already with the pet names, love?” Johnny smirked at her. She shrugged while she took a sip of her drink. “It’s a southern thing.” The pretty woman brushed off. “Well it’s a Scottish thing too.” He chuckled and shifted his feet. “I’m here with some of my mates, you can come sit with us if you’d like.” He offered, deep down just wanting to show her off already and to show them that he could get a woman since they joked too often about him scaring them off with his ‘Scottish-ness’ as Simon would say. “Sure, I can hang for a little.” She nodded and followed along right behind him.

When she got to the table she laid eyes on a charming looking man with a big smile, then to another one that had a thick beard and stache and wore a bucket hat, then finally she laid her eyes on one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. Simon sat there all big and brooding with scars littering his face and a half sleeve of tattoos on his forearm. Johnny gave her his chair and she felt a little bad knowing he had come over to flirt with her.

But hey, she was only a woman.

They all introduced themselves to her with laughs towards Johnny and gave her kind smiles. She introduced herself back and took the time to talk to them all. Simon didn’t say much, he was as stoic as every but she figured he didn’t do well in social situations. Or maybe he was the nonchalant type. Hell, she didn’t care she couldn’t take her eyes off him for half of the time she sat there amongst the four of them.

By the time she finished her drink, Johnny was carrying back more for himself and Kyle. She reached across the table for the napkin holder that sat in the middle of the table and fished out the pen she kept in her back pocket to write her name and number down. With a sigh she slipped off the chair as her cheeks grew rosy. John watched her with a small smile which quickly went to shock as she slid the napkin across the table and over to Simon.

He looked up at her in shock as she stood there with a cheeky grin. Johnny had witnessed it with his own two eyes and his jaw dropped. Kyle couldn’t help, but laugh out of shock. “Well it was nice meetin’ y’all.” She grinned and rounded the table. “Hopefully I’ll be seeing you.” She gave Simon’s arm a squeeze, sending Johnny a wave before going off and disappearing back into the crowd.

“You just stole my girl!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Simon uttered as he picked up the napkin with the pretty writing before slipping it into his pocket. Part of him just wanted to spite Johnny and the other part of him was glad she had chosen him over his friend. “I can’t even be mad. That was sly as hell.” He shrugged and sat down in the chair.

Later that night, her phone buzzed with a text.

‘So I take it you perfer Brits over Scots?’

~~~~~

Just had his idea on my mind for a few days. Hope you liked it xx

[animamii]

letter from lockedup!Toji that goes along with this drabble ‎♡‧₊˚

...Beautiful, I just want you to know; you're my favorite girl...

— Beautiful~~Snoop dogg + Pharrel

‎

Hey, princess.

Got your letter today. Been reading it over and over, like I always do. I swear, these pages are the only thing keeping me sane in here. When everything else in this place feels like it’s closing in, I got your words, your handwriting, the way I can almost hear your voice saying all this to me. It keeps me steady. Keeps me from losing my head.

And that picture you sent? Fuck. You tryin’ to kill me in here? I swear, if these walls weren’t in the way, I’d be home already. You look good, baby. Too good. Almost makes me mad that other people get to see you like this when I can’t. But I know you’re mine. Always have been. Always will be.

You don’t even gotta try, and you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Sitting there, all sweet, all perfect. Makes me crazy knowing I can’t reach out and touch you, pull you into me, feel your skin, hear you laugh in my ear. It ain’t fair. But I guess nothing ever has been for me. Except you. You’re the one thing in this world that ever felt like it was mine. I don’t say this enough, probably don’t say half the shit you deserve to hear, but I need you to know that. You ain’t just my girl. You’re my peace, my home, the only thing I’ve ever been afraid to lose. And that’s saying something.

I laughed when I read about Megumi and his damn ramen obsession. Stubborn little punk. I wonder where he gets it from. (Yeah, yeah, don’t say shit—I know.) Tell him I said to listen to his stepma, eat a real meal, and quit acting like he doesn’t miss me. I know how he is. Pretends he don’t care, but I bet if I walked through that door tomorrow, he’d be the first one running to me. He won’t say it, but you can see it in his eyes. Just like his old man. Make sure he’s eating real food, alright? He might act like he don’t care, but I know he listens to you. Probably more than he ever listened to me.

And you. You better be taking care of yourself too. Are you sleeping? Eating? Taking care of yourself? I know how you get—running around, worrying about everyone else, not stopping to breathe. You always got so much to worry about, but you forget you’re supposed to take care of you too. I don’t wanna hear that you’re running on empty, staying up too late, stressing yourself out. You always act tough, but I know you, baby. I know when you’re holding too much inside. I know when you need me. And I swear to you, I’m coming back.

You tell me you’ll wait. That you don’t care how long it takes. But, baby, I care. Every second in here is a goddamn eternity. Every night I go to sleep thinking about you, and every morning I wake up counting down the days until I can get back to you. And I will. No matter what I gotta do, no matter how long it takes, I will get home to you.And when I do? You better be ready. Because I’m never letting you out of my sight again. You hear me? You’re stuck with me, forever.

Wait for me just a little longer. I love you. More than I’ll ever be able to put into words.

Toji

[miniscapes333]

Passionate confession from your FS (18+) (sweet obsession edition) (part - 2)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;)

👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 2]

👆 [PILE - 3]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE 1

You don’t even know what you do to me, do you? The way I ache for you—it’s almost maddening. Like a fire that never burns out, just keeps consuming, deeper, hotter, more unbearable every time I think about you. And I do—I think about you constantly. I replay moments between us like an addict chasing their next high, lingering on the way your lips curve when you smirk, the way your breath hitches when I get too close. It’s a battle I lose every single night, fighting this pull you have over me, but the truth is? I don’t want to win. I want to lose. To you. Over and over again. Because you—you—are the only thing I want to surrender to.

You drive me to the edge of my control, test my patience, push me until I feel like I might just snap. And maybe I want to. Maybe I want you to see what you do to me, how deep this obsession runs. How every time I see you, my hands twitch to touch, my lips part with words I’m not sure I should say just yet—but God, do I want to. I catch myself staring when I shouldn’t, imagining things I have no business imagining, feeling this raw, unfiltered hunger that only you can stir in me. And yet, it’s not just about the way I crave you—it’s deeper than that. It’s the way my heart pounds when I hear your voice. The way I miss you even when you’re right in front of me, because I always want more.

And I wonder—do you feel it too? This tension that coils between us like an unspoken challenge, daring one of us to break first. I see it in the way your eyes flicker when I get too close, the way your body reacts before your mind catches up. Don’t deny it—I know you feel it just as much as I do. And one day, I swear, I’m going to make you admit it. I’ll have you just as undone as you leave me every single night, lost in this sweet, unbearable obsession we’ve wrapped ourselves in. And when that day comes? Oh, love, I won’t hold back. I won’t hesitate. And I will make sure you never forget what it feels like to be wanted like this.

PILE 2

You have no idea how long I’ve been watching you, studying you, memorizing the way your lips move when you talk, how your laughter melts into a room, the way your presence shifts the air around you—pulling me in without effort. I should have kept my distance. Should have let this be nothing more than fleeting curiosity, but tell me… how am I supposed to ignore something that already owns me? You consume my thoughts, even in the quiet, even when I tell myself to let go. I can’t. I won’t. The more I see you, the more I need you. Even when I try to focus, even when I pretend I’m above this, my mind betrays me. I replay our conversations, I search for traces of me in your gaze, I wonder if you know—if you feel—the tension I bite back every time I’m near you.

It’s intoxicating, the way you make me lose control. The teasing, the stolen glances, the way you tilt your head just so, testing me, daring me to make a move. And God, do I want to. But I can’t just have you—I need to unravel you first. I want to know what makes you tick, what sets your skin aflame, what leaves you breathless in the dead of night. I want to see you undone under my hands, knowing it was me who got you there. You make me restless, make me second-guess my own composure, and I swear I’ve imagined a thousand different ways to finally close this unbearable distance. Slow, teasing, pushing you past your own restraint. Or maybe all at once, like the dam finally breaking, like neither of us can hold back any longer.

I think about you when I shouldn’t. Late at night, when the world is silent and my thoughts are anything but. You haunt me, linger in the spaces between my breaths, and I wonder—do I do the same to you? Do you feel the heat between us even when we’re surrounded by others? Do you catch yourself staring when you think I won’t notice? Because I notice everything, love. Every flicker of your gaze, every shift in your body when I get too close. And one day, I won’t just stand here and watch. One day, I’ll lean in, brush my fingers along your jaw, and make you admit that you’ve been craving this just as much as I have. And when that day comes? I promise, I’ll make sure you never forget what it feels like to finally be mine.

PILE 3

You don’t understand what you do to me. How your presence alone is enough to send a slow burn through my veins, a warmth that lingers long after you’ve gone. You move like you know exactly who you are—unapologetic, untouchable, and yet, I want to be the one who reaches you. The one who reminds you that you don’t have to be so strong, so guarded, because with me? You are safe. And maybe that’s what scares me the most. This need—no, this ache—to give you everything. My hands, my time, my devotion. I want to spoil you, not just with gifts, but with the way I touch you, the way I look at you like you are the only thing worth chasing. Because you are. And if I have to spend forever proving that to you, I will.

I know you feel it too. The tension, the unspoken promises in the way our fingers brush when we stand too close, the stolen glances that last just a second too long. It’s maddening, this game we play. The push, the pull. But let’s be honest, love—we both know where this is leading. One day, I won’t hold back. I’ll have you pressed against me, your breath warm against my skin, and I’ll make sure you never doubt just how much I want you. I want to worship you, learn every inch of you, taste the way your body reacts to my touch. Slow and teasing, making you beg, or deep and consuming, leaving you breathless. You deserve that. You deserve everything. And I swear to you, I’ll spend every moment proving it.

But it’s not just about the physical—it never was. It’s the way you see me, even when I don’t have the words to say what I feel. It’s the way you laugh, how it lingers in the air like a melody I never want to stop hearing. It’s the way I want to earn your love, not just claim it. So let me. Let me trace my fingers down your spine and memorize the way you shiver. Let me whisper your name against your skin and watch as you melt beneath me. Let me love you the way you were always meant to be loved—fully, entirely, without hesitation. Because, my love, you are the one thing in this world I will never stop wanting.

Paid readings availabe - check them out here 🫶🏾

[mourndust]

note — vampire!cait has me with a current state of brainrot, so here it is, my take in my formal gf count fagula, this contains smut so minors dni, dead dove do not eat, blood kink, pet names, cait-handling (it's a thing). english is not my first language, any mistake is none intended // my requests are open.

vampire!cait being the type of vampire that hates the intimate act of feeding from someone, avoiding it a much as she can until she can no longer resist the blood thirst and has no other choice but to surrender to her nature.

vampire!caitlyn who cannot resist you — that basic human who's fresh out of collage and is taking the job nobody wants to do. appearing in her chambers with a small notepad and a recording device to interview her since the passing of her mother cassandra.

she made you her bloodbag in no time. that very same night in which you appeared into her vision and became aware of your existence. her eyes follow you around the room and you're suddenly calling her count kiramman, too intimidated to even began to interview her.

vampire!cait who's family is rumored to be inmortal but no-one dares to say a word about it, not even you when she pressed her cold lips against the skin of your shoulder, her nose inhaling the sweet scent of the living, the sound of your heart beating, the sweat on your skin as you got nervous about the lack of space. her dark blue hair almost glows with the dim glow of the candles and you remember it so vividly it becomes a usual thought.

she's a kiramman, an you think she's used to have the things the way she wants. she has money, power, and a fucking aura that's so compelling you don't dare to ever deny her, tilting your head to the side like an offer to her only.

vampire!cait who always makes the bite so nice to receive. stealing demanding kisses that are as sharp as her long coat. makes the shadows in the room grow larger as the light leaves the space and she's surrounding you, her hands growing curious as they go past your shirt, her thick accent burning against your ear as she's preparing you, taking advantage cause hell- you were a pretty journalist so eager to know more about her, to listen, to do whatever the fuck she wants.

when she bites you, she's sure you're wet. her cool hands almost soothing the high temperatures of your body before sinking her teeth in that vein she can feel pulsating from before, filling her bucal cavity with the warm feeling of your blood, of the vitality sliding again in her cold body as she pushes you flush against her demanding mouth. it's not like the blood flow that passes through the good-sized vein in your inner tight, but it's good, so good every single time.

count!caitlyn who says you burn like the sun, taking off your shirt swiftly as the blood drips down to your chest, staining the fabric of your bra. she wastes no time in sucking on the wound, teeth-deep. her tongue swirls around the holes in your skin, and the pain is welcomed, a reminder you're alive as your fingers sink on the strands of her long hair, pulling them to ground yourself.

the vampire keeps your head to the side, fingers shoved inside your mouth as she eats — "stay still and let me have my fill. can't have you making sounds, squirming around. behave."

you're drooling as her index finger hits the back of your throat, and when it seems she had enough of your shoulder, she licks the drops that went to your chest without wasting blood, pulling down on your bra, happy even to clean up the dried rest that stained your chest.

"that's it, behave. you can take the pain" she cooes with almost an echo to her words. "you take it all so well, you're such a good pet. just let me have a bit more, i'm still hungry."

she's nothing but polite, so she waits for you to agree before actually bite you again, tearing apart the tissue of her upper chest as she holds you still cause shit — she knows you're going to move like a whiny bitch.

the count don't care about you staining her sheets, not even when her own clothes get dirty with your blood on it, making you lightheaded when she's comfortable between your legs, soothing the pain with caresses and kisses that left blood behind.

count!cait who used to pride on her self control until she needs to feed from you over and over again, making up excuses to have you there in her bed week after week. you've become a treat, and she's sure to keep you satisfied, praising on your behavior and even when you're lucky, playing with her too.

"you don't have to go to that stupid office," caitlyn says with that know-it-all smile on her face, once again hating up your work in the newspaper "you should help me. keep me full of you, close to me."

the count gets so needy she just has to have you in the middle of the night, climbing the tower of your room and sliding in while you're sleeping. her cold hands wake you up in the most gentle way to invade your warm bed, melt in your sleepy embrace as your fingers trace invisible patters over the skin of her stomach half asleep. you wake up moments later cause suddenly, you're also craving to be good for your count, giving her what she needs.

so you find a comfortable position to drown your face in between her tights and her dripping cunt, and it's all it takes to have the vampire arching her back, rubbing herself against your lips, vocally open about her pulsating need to release, how good you are following her orders around.

count!caitlyn who ends up fucking you without even feeding from you, who cannot help but crave the blood-tasting-kisses in the middle of the night just because she bite your lip so hard she forgot about the human fragility in you. the count that praises, in a rough voice, how good your fingers felt every time she let you have her way with her.

who wouldn't offer their blood too? after all, it's royalty what you're talking about.

check out my previous work pit!fighter vi.

[solxamber]

Deuce, Romantic, "Again/I wanna be your lover, I don't wanna be your friend" by Noah Cyrus.

"I wanna be your lover" || Deuce Spade

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Again by Noah Cyrus

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 730

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mutual Pining, Friends to lovers

Deuce is your best friend. He always has been. Through thick and thin, through the chaos of life, through every scuffle, every test, every late-night cram session—he’s been there. Steadfast, reliable, a comforting constant in your life.

And maybe that’s what terrifies you the most.

Because if he’s always been there, what happens if you break this? If you take a step too far, cross that fragile boundary, and realize you were better off as friends? What if you ruin the best thing you have?

But Deuce—Deuce loves you. He doesn’t just like you, doesn’t just think you’re fun to be around. No, he loves you in that stupidly obvious way that makes Ace roll his eyes, in that devoted, borderline puppy-eyed way that makes Riddle sigh in exasperation.

He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to.

It’s in the way he always walks on the outer side of the sidewalk, subtly shielding you from passing vehicles.

It’s in the way he keeps extra snacks in his bag, always offering them to you first, even if it means going hungry himself. It’s in the way he watches you—like you’re something too precious for this world, something he’s terrified of losing.

But you’re scared. So you pretend you don’t see it.

One evening, you’re sitting outside, eating snacks on the dorm steps. The sun is dipping beneath the horizon, the sky painted in streaks of orange and lilac. It’s peaceful, the kind of quiet that settles between two people who have known each other forever.

Deuce is sitting close, his knee bumping against yours. He’s laughing at something you said, eyes crinkled, dimples showing, and it’s so easy. This has always been easy.

You think about how much you love him—about how warm he makes you feel, about how you never feel lonely when he’s around. And that terrifies you more than anything.

So you look away.

And then, as if he’s been holding it back for years, Deuce speaks. His voice is quiet, hesitant, but firm.

"I wanna be your lover. I don’t wanna be just your friend."

Your breath catches.

You turn to him, wide-eyed, unsure if you heard correctly. But the way he looks at you—raw, vulnerable, so painfully honest—leaves no room for misinterpretation.

"Deuce—"

"I mean it." His hands curl into fists, his heart beating out of his chest. "I—I don’t want to just be the guy you call when you need help, or the guy who’s always there, waiting in the background. I love being your friend, but I want more than that. I need more than that."

You’re frozen.

Because you do love him. You love him so much it scares you. But what if you mess this up? What if you say yes, and it ruins everything? What if—

"Please," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "Just tell me if there’s a chance. I don’t need anything else—just tell me if there’s a chance."

You stare at him.

And suddenly, all the fear, all the uncertainty, all the worries screaming in your head—none of them matter.

Because this is Deuce.

Your Deuce.

The boy who has been by your side since day one. The boy who holds his heart in his hands, offering it to you without hesitation, without expectation—just hoping you’ll take it.

You don’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, you reach forward, cupping his face with trembling hands, and pull him in.

His breath hitches, but he doesn’t hesitate. The moment your lips meet, he melts—like he’s been waiting for this, dreaming of this, for so long.

And maybe you have been, too.

His hands find yours , pulling you closer, holding you like you might disappear. You feel his heart pounding against yours, fast and desperate, and you realize—he’s just as scared as you are.

But he still took the leap.

So maybe you can, too.

When you finally pull away, he looks at you like you just handed him the world.

"You—" He swallows, breathless. "You mean it?"

You smile, cheeks burning. "I wanna hear you say it again."

His eyes widen—then he grins, so purely happy that it makes your chest ache.

"I love you."

And you know—this is it.

This is home.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be hearing him say it again, and again, and again, for the rest of your life.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[ablobwhowrites]

When I say I NEED that fanfic where reader keeps them in their house I MEAN IT.

(For the first post of this kinda ideas is here. And the second part to this au is here But this is kinda more of explaining the idea of this au that I call: New home sweet home au. And yeah my yap session is starting here rn and some rambles about other stuff too so be warned mega yap session.)

Basically this idea is just ex employee y/n just being like "fuck it" and getting the toys out of the factory and put them at their house and that's was the only plan. Now they got about a shit ton of trauma and injuries and 17 traumatized alive toys who are now living in their house so thats cool.

y/n was a kinda tries to make them feel at home especially after all thats happened and the other toys y/n couldn't save. They try to make the toys they did save feel better and the toys do and well once they feel at home, it's chaotic is the basics of it. And to toys who tries to kill y/n (kinda includes kinda doey for his very understandable crash out but he feels bad for it) try to apologize by trying to be helpful to y/n and trying to protect y/n from anything that tries to hurt them as well. Plus miss delights face was also kinda fixed as y/n tried to fix it with some molding clay but fixed it to the best of their abilities and it's looks good but y/n is trying to get crafty corn to help them with repairing miss delights face because y/n nearly had several heart attacks because of seeing miss delight in the darkness at night when they try to go into the kitchen for a snack.

One night there was robbers who broke into the house once to steal stuff but mommy long legs and catnap heard them and yeah, the robbers ended up being torn apart cause Mommy long legs and catnap ain't going to let their new home and the person who gave them a second chance to die or get robbed (yarnaby ate the evidence). Once y/n was sitting on the couch watching SpongeBob with dogday and basically released the wildest like it went like this.

*y/n and dogday watching SpongeBob*

Y/n: "you know I'm in a metal band and once at a small concert, I was clocked in the head with a phone being thrown on the stage and ended up getting into a fight over a bag of cheeze-it's?"

*Dog day pauses and slowly looks over at y/n, who keeps watching the TV*

Dog day: "what made you remember that while watching SpongeBob!?"

I do imagine that doey (and the rest of the toys) get worried when y/n leaves the house cause like what if something happens and they can't help so they all made a rule that y/n has to call very 30 minutes (or less) and if they don't call in 30 minutes then all hell breaks loose as they all think y/n is dead and never coming back until they do and end up having do Uber eats their groceries for the next 2 weeks. I imagine that y/n has some old game consoles that their parents gave them and some new consoles that y/n doesn't use anymore but they give the toys the old consoles like the Nintendo entertainment or game cube as I do Imagine that if y/n used their new consoles for them. They would flip out cause like all the toys (especially the younger toys) have never seen a advanced game like this as like playtime co was open to 1930 to 1995 so I imagine they only remember the old consoles and I do imagine like doey playing Super Mario Bros on the Nintendo entertainment or any of the toys playing different Nintendo games is just a funny idea for me.

Also imagining that y/n somehow got daddy long legs and baby long legs as well and totally imagining that mommy long legs wearing hair curlers and daddy long legs using some for his mustache cause like you can't tell me they won't do that, maybe even the baby has one for that one strand of hair

But the looming fear of the prototype still is in them. I mean of course the prototype could never leave the factory but with all those materials and what the prototype might be thinking. It's not always out of the question of the prototype will try something like try and leave the factory it's trapped in. Who knows but the toys put all their trust on y/n and y/n has faxed worse and almost got eaten alive by smiling critters and Nightmares critters has weighed on them a bit but could be worse.

(so that's the main basis of this au idea and if you guys like it and want more don't feel shy if you guys wanna request for this au for any ideas or just want more of this. But that's it's for my yap session, please stay safe and drink water!)

[kunareads]

if walls could talk

suguru x reader

you know better than to let suguru pull you back in, but that's never stopped you before.

masterlist

wc: 3.2k

happy belated bday to my sunshine <3

content: toxic ex-boyfriend!suguru, smut (FILTH), oral (f!receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v sex, overstimulation, suguru is generally a menace

18+ please i block children <3

you spot him first.

immediately, your stomach twists. of course he's here.

suguru geto moves through gojo's house party like he owns it, like the music hums at his frequency. he leans against the stair railing, dressed in black, sleeves pushed up like an afterthought, talking to someone without really looking at them.

his posture is too relaxed, his head tilted just slightly in your direction, mouth curved in the faintest smirk. he already caught you looking. you snap your gaze away like that might undo the weight settling in your chest.

a guy you don't know leans in too close, too eager, and says something forgettable. you should be paying attention, but your skin is already buzzing and hyperaware—and then suguru is there.

"you look bored."

his words slip smoothly into your space. his attention is locked on you, amused, like he's daring you to disagree.

the guy hesitates, looking between the two of you, unsure.

and eventually, because of course, the guy takes the hint and backs off.

suguru exhales, lazy and smug like he's enjoying something only he understands. he leans in just enough for you to feel it, his voice low and edged with amusement.

"miss me?"

your lips press together, an irritated inhale barely audible over the base pulsing through the floor.

you could walk away. you should. but you won't. instead, you tip your chin, meeting his gaze. "you want honesty, or do you want me to stroke your ego?"

it's too easy.

you should know better. you do know better. but old habits die hard, don't they?

he's watching you, waiting. seeing how long you'll entertain him. and maybe that's why you don't walk away. you hate the idea of giving him that satisfaction.

instead, you arch a brow. "still ruining my nights, i see."

suguru grins, all easy arrogance. "ruining? i just did you a favor.

"and if i didn't want it?"

he hums like he's considering it, then shrugs. "then your judgment's worse than i thought."

you open your mouth to fire back, but before you can, he swipes your drink, finishing it in one smooth motion, like it's his.

you blink. "really?"

"you weren't going to." he licks the taste from his lips, intentional, smug.

you shouldn't be amused, but you are anyway.

"you're insufferable."

his fingers skim your wrist—fleeting, a test. when you don't pull away, he takes your hand.

"come on."

"suguru—"

but he's already leading you upstairs, past the crowd, past the noise. and you let him. because you always do.

he pulls you into a room and closes the door. he leans against it, gaze intent, considering.

and then—like it's the most natural thing in the world, the next step in a conversation you've had a hundred times before—

"when's the last time someone fucked you?"

you don't answer right away. not because you don't have a response—you do. you could roll your eyes, scoff, turn this into something lighter than it is.

but that's the thing about suguru. he knows when you're acting.

you hate how good he is at waiting. how he lets silence stretch, never rushing to fill it. how his presence alone pulls the air tight between you.

you exhale, slow, measured. "shut up."

and he laughs, like that's exactly what he expected you to say.

his hands find your waist, grip loose, giving you a chance to pull away. you don't take it.

so he shifts closer, his head tilting, his voice dipping lower. not just teasing now, but something smoother, softer. familiar in a way that makes your stomach tighten.

"so you do think about me." it's a statement, not a question.

you inhale steadily, but your pulse betrays you. neither of you move. and that's the problem, isn't it?

old habits don't just die hard. they never really die at all.

"we shouldn't."

it's barely a whisper, a breath more than anything. a last-ditch effort that neither of you believe.

suguru moves in undeterred, his breath warm against your cheek, his hands sure on your waist. like the words don't matter when you're already leaning into him.

"then stop me," he murmurs, but you both know you won't.

his lips brush against your jaw, slow and deliberate, like he's giving you time to change your mind. a reminder of how easy it is for him to undo you.

and you hate it—hate how easy it is. how normal it feels. how much you want it.

"relax, angel."

the name unravels you instantly. too familiar, like slipping into something you swore you'd never touch again.

somewhere in the haze, your back meets the wall. his hands slide under your shirt, palms warm.

it's instinct, muscle memory. the way his thumb brushes against your thigh, the way his body presses into you. the way his mouth finds yours, and you open for him without thinking.

his tongue drags against yours, slow and teasing. he kisses you like a reminder, like a dare, like he's testing how long it'll take you to melt for him again.

(and you do. of course you do.)

he hums, satisfied. his hand slides higher, fingers pressing into the lace at the crease of your thigh. your teeth sink into your lip, trapping the sound before it escapes.

he chuckles knowingly, as if he's done this a hundred times before.

he barely pulls away before his hands slide down, gripping your thighs, guiding you backward onto the bed, onto your knees.

your breath hitches and his gaze never wavers. he shifts like he already knows you'll follow. settling on his back, he pulls you with him.

"come here, baby."

his grip is firm but patient, like he's waiting for you to make the decision he already knows. your stomach tightens as his hands settle on your hips, urging you higher, forward, straddling his face.

he exhales, warm against the inside of your thigh, the heat of it making you shiver.

the first stroke of his tongue is hot, slow, devastating.

a gasp tears from your lips, unbidden, your fingers gripping the headboard as he drags you against him, pinning you in place.

suguru rasps against you, the sound vibrating through your core. his grip changes, no longer guiding but keeping you there.

his tongue flicks over your clit, slow and willful, before dragging down, curling inside you.

your breath stutters, hips rolling instinctively, seeking more, chasing it, pressing into the heat of his mouth

"fuck—" he moans against you like he's the one falling apart, and you're gone.

your thighs tighten as you grind down, ruining yourself on his tongue.

suguru hums, his nails digging into your thighs. "that's it, baby."

he flattens his tongue, dragging it up slowly, sucking you into his mouth, savoring every second.

a shudder tears through you.

"suguru—fuck."

you bite your lip, swallowing the sounds, but his fingers tighten, spreading you open, his tongue flicking faster. he sucks, harsh and insistent.

the noise that rips from you is high and helpless.

he groans in approval, the vibration traveling up your spine, unraveling you.

"there we go."

his voice is smug, wrecked, and then his hands pivot—one gripping your hip, the other slipping between your legs, two fingers pressing in, curling deep.

a strangled sound escapes, your body arching as he works you open, tongue and fingers moving in tandem, determined.

"look at you," he mumbles against you, dark and teasing. "making such a mess for me, baby. c'mon, lemme see those pretty eyes."

your hips stutter, pleasure winding tight, too much, too good, too easy.

his fingers find that spot, stroking just right, his tongue working your clit in precise circles.

"suguru, i—fuck, i can't—"

"yes, you can." his voice is low, confident, coaxing you through it. "be good for me, angel."

your thighs quiver, your breath breaks in your chest, and white-hot pleasure detonates inside you, all-consuming.

you can feel him smirking against you, pleased with himself, like he knew this was coming all along.

the pleasure drowns you. your nails dig into his scalp as he moans into you, insatiable as he drags you through it until you're whimpering, twitching, overstimulated.

only then does suguru slow, pressing a lingering kiss to your clit.

you're panting, lightheaded, barely aware of his hands grabbing your hips before you're on your back.

he hovers over you now, mouth slick, gaze unreadable. "that's one."

his fingers slide down your stomach, finding your hypersensitive clit, teasing until you jolt, a whimper slipping free.

suguru grins. "think you can give me another, baby?"

and when he slides inside, stretching you open, filling you slow and deep, you realize you never stood a chance against him.

his hips grind into yours, deep and filthy, unrelenting even as your moans grow erratic, as your thighs shake, as the tension coils tight inside you.

he fucks you like he never lost you.

a whimper tears from your throat.

"what is it, baby?" he asks. "tell me what you need."

you gasp, back arching, chasing the stretch of him. "don't stop."

he groans, smiling as he leans in, grip tightening around the backs of your thighs like he's remembering the way you take him.

he hooks your legs over his shoulders, raising your hips, driving into you deeper, grinding down harder against that spot.

you sob, body tensing, and his hips never slow, even as you flush and start to break a sweat.

"god, look at you," he rasps. "fuck, i missed this. missed splitting you open like this."

"please—fuck, please—"

one hand grips the sheets, the other clinging to his arm, nails digging in.

"suguru, please—"

"is that it, baby?" he murmurs. "this what you need?"

your hips roll, trying to meet his, and then his hand slides under your back, lifting you completely off the bed, his other arm locking around your thigh.

"fuck," you whine, "please, please—"

he growls, his hips snapping into yours, fucking you in earnest, the pressure building, overwhelming, almost too much.

his hand slides between you, fingers circling your clit, and then—

"fuck—yes, yes—"

the sound that rips from your throat is strangled, broken as heat courses through you.

you writhe in his grip, but he doesn't let up, even as your vision blurs, even as your whimpers break, helpless and overwhelmed.

You're shaking and gasping, but he only drags it out.

he groans, deep and satisfied. "fuck, look at you."

he leans into you, pinning you against the headboard, grip persistent as he fucks you deeper, filling every inch of you.

he kisses you, swallowing your gasps, his tongue sweeping over yours, hot and needy.

his fingers tighten in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp.

"fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good."

your hands fist in the sheets, then the headboard, then his hair, trying to hold on, trying to ground yourself.

"suguru, fuck—too much, it's too much—"

"give me another."

his voice is a low growl, rough with need, as he fucks you harder, deeper, until tears slip down your cheeks.

"can you do that? can you give me one more?"

he slams into you relentlessly, burying his face in your neck, sucking a mark into your skin.

"fuck, i know you can. come on, baby, one more."

you whimper, hips jerking, pleasure knotting too tight, too fast—

"there it is."

your body seizes, pleasure hitting so hard it's almost painful.

your body shakes, overwhelmed, the pleasure cresting, spiraling higher, higher, until you feel it snap.

it hits you all at once, a sudden, unstoppable, liquid heat soaking him, your entire body trembling with it.

"fuck, baby, look at you," suguru groans, eyes hungry as he watches you spill down your thighs and onto him.

his rhythm stutters for a second, a deep moan breaking from his lips, and then he keeps going.

his fingers press into your overstimulated clit, toying, stroking, making sure you feel every second.

"so fucking perfect for me," he grunts. "always so fucking perfect."

your body shakes, thighs tightening around his waist, fingers digging into his skin, frantic for something to hold onto.

"i—i can't, suguru—fuck, please—"

he growls, a strangled sound, and his hips stutter, and then he's cumming too, spilling deep inside you, hot and wet as his body tenses against yours.

"fuck—" his breath pauses, his body trembling.

a quiet whimper falls from him as his hips grind into yours, working himself through it, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until he's spent.

for a moment, there's nothing but heavy breathing, the scent of sweat and sex, the muffled thrum of the party still going on downstairs.

and then he shifts, lifting his head, his lips seeking yours unhurriedly.

he's still inside you, somehow still hard, still moving.

his lips brush against your jaw, heat twisting in his voice. "again," he murmurs, a plea.

your thighs twitch and his grip tightens, keeping you open as he presses deeper.

"please, angel. again."

you whimper, and he kisses you, coaxing your lips open, teasing.

"that's it, baby. one more."

he kisses you again, serious and demanding, moving his hips against you, pulling more sounds from you. your body is oversensitive, eyes still wet, every nerve strung tight.

you break away, panting, breathless, and then his mouth brushes your neck, nuzzles your jaw. you go rigid, your pulse thrumming through your ears, coming apart around him.

his smirk presses against your skin, licking his lips before his tongue sweeps over your throat, tasting the salt of your tears.

"good girl," he breathes against your temple, a kiss pressed there.

your body twitches, breath stuttering between soft, broken whimpers as you lay your head against him.

he watches you, his violet eyes heavy-lidded, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

"fuck, look at you," he breathes, voice low, like he's committing this to memory.

his hands never leave you as he lays you down, thumbs smoothing over the new marks on your thighs, tracing absent circles into your skin.

your body is still trembling, remnants of pleasure flickering beneath your skin, and he traces every shudder with his gaze, like he's mapping you in his mind again.

"so pretty like this."

his voice is low, almost lazy, but there's something else there.

something that feels like possession.

his fingers drag down, tracing the mess between your thighs, pressing in, spreading it.

you jolt, gasping, your body too sensitive.

"shh, baby," he soothes, pressing a kiss to the damp skin of your throat, "you can take it."

his fingers slide in slow, curling against that spot that steals your breath away, makes your entire body go weak.

"suguru—"

"just one more, baby" he hums, pleased.

you shake your head, a weak protest that he doesn't believe for a second.

his lips brush against your jaw, his voice warm and unshaken against your skin.

"you always say that," he reminds you, slipping another finger in, stretching you further, "and then you always give me exactly what i want."

your breath stutters, pleasure rushing back too fast, too sharp.

"there we go," he murmurs, slow and smug, savoring it.

his fingers fuck into you, deep and lazy, his thumb circling your clit slowly. your hips twitch, breath catching on a sharp gasp.

"suguru, i—i can't—"

"yes, you can, baby."

his voice is softer now, low and insistent, guiding you through it.

"one more, angel. take your time."

you clench around his fingers, body tensing, the pleasure burning too hot, but he doesn't stop.

"let go for me, baby. give it to me."

his lips ghost over yours, a breath away from a kiss, and his fingers work you at the same pace, never slowing, never picking up. the consistency pushes you past your breaking point.

your entire body tightens, then shatters.

you cum with a dragged-out moan, your orgasm caressing you slowly as your hands fist the sheets, clawing at him, holding on for dear life.

"fuck, that's it," he praises, voice thick with satisfaction, watching you fall apart for him again.

his fingers slow, easing the pressure but never leaving, letting you shudder against him, guiding you down steadily.

when you finally melt into the mattress, boneless, he slips his fingers from you, bringing them into his mouth, tasting the mess he's made of you.

his eyes hold yours the entire time. "taste just like you always did."

you don't have the energy to react, not even enough to glare at him.

his hands are gentle now, soothing, gliding over your skin, tracing the rise and fall of your breath, smoothing over every lingering tremor.

"breathe, angel" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, voice softer now, "i got you."

you barely register it, too wrecked to process anything beyond the warmth of him, the steady weight of him, the way he takes care of you after leaving you in ruins.

his fingers smooth through your hair, slow and repetitive, like he's grounding you, or maybe himself.

you want to say something, but his fingers skim your back, and the words never come.

for now, you let him pull you in, let him tuck you against his chest, let yourself disappear into the warmth of him. just for a little while.

your body is useless. your limbs won't move, muscles heavy, your skin buzzing.

suguru feels it instantly.

"come on," he murmurs, voice softer now, smoothing a hand over your spine.

he shifts like he's about to move you, and you whimper, too tired to resist, too spent to open your eyes.

"shh, it's okay." his arms slide under you, strong and careful, and he lifts you effortlessly.

you don't fight it. can't even think about it. instinct takes over, your head falling into the crook of his neck, your arms slack over his shoulders.

"you're okay," he breathes, arms tightening. he carries you through the dim room, past the lingering heat, into the connecting bathroom.

the soft click of the bathroom light floods your senses—too bright, too much, making you whimper and turning your face into his neck.

"i know, baby," he murmurs, stepping inside, the door clicking shut behind him.

his fingers skim your thighs as he sets you down, easing you onto the closed toilet lid and steadying you.

you sway a bit and he exhales a slow chuckle, amused, but there's something delicate beneath it. his hands hold your waist, keeping you upright.

"just lean on me."

so you do.

his hands work with practiced ease, sliding between your legs and cleaning you up with slow, careful strokes.

you squirm, a jolt of overstimulation making you whimper, your body threatening to fold in on itself.

"shh, angel," he soothes, pressing a kiss to your temple. "i know. almost done."

you sigh against him, boneless, pliant, sinking into his touch.

he finishes, tosses the towel aside, then shifts, lifting you again, pulling you to your feet.

"tired?" he murmurs, smirking when your only answer is a breathy hum.

he presses a kiss to your forehead. "let's get you back to bed, angel."

you don't protest.

[candykissd]

drunk bingo

𝓗𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒 🐇

drunk bingo is a crazy time, especially when you're a lightweight. although, harry's there to take care of you.

warnings : alcohol consumption, nausea, mature language, fluff

nats notes : idk how to feel about this, i feel like it could be longer? i'm not sure though, i can never really write long chapters... but lmk what you think !! - luv from nat <3

the flashing lights were enough to make you feel sick, sicker than you already did. drunk bingo was one of your most favourite events, though, it's safe to say alcohol isn't your best friend.

you were already pretty much pissed by the third drink, and yet somehow were managing to pass out coherent sentences.. up until the eight drink, at least.

you were wedged between george and harry, with bach and arthur tv on the ends of the table. at the start of the night you were sure you were going to be the best team, winning all the challenges, calling bingo here and there. but then they decided to give you a few drinks. not a smart move.

"number 63!" simon called out from the platform on which he stood, the various flashing lights surrounding him sending your head spinning into a vortex of feeling sorry for yourself.

"'m gonna get some air.." you slurred out as you stood up, making your way around the tables, not without stumbling into a few, and finding the back door. pushing it open with all your might and leaning against the railing outside.

"she okay?" arthur asked the other boys as he saw her leave. "yeah, probably just so unbelievably shitfaced." harry shrugged as he stood up, following along the trail that you had walked just a minute ago.

deep breathe in, deep breathe out, is what you told yourself, the nauseous feeling creeping up on you again, despite the fact that it felt as though it had only just washed away. you couldn't help but jump in your skin as you felt a hand on your lower back.

"you okay?" sounded harry's familiar voice as he smiled down at you.

"yeah... 'm good." you mumbled out, raising your hand to your forehead as you turned slightly to face him, whilst you still felt ill, you couldn't help but smile up at him.

you'd liked harry for the longest time, and the two of you had somewhat of a flirtation-ship, always taking the piss out of each other, and flirting with one another. but, it was all harmless. you both denied having feelings for each other; even though all of your friends could see through it.

harry's hand slid up your back, his touch light, but enough to make you shiver as his hand made its way to play with your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear. "you wanna go home?" he asked, tilting his head, as if he was secretly admiring you, which he wasnt doing a good job at hiding.

you didn't say anything, not feeling the need, nor the ability to speak properly, just nodding and smiling softly at him as he stood up straight.

he turned around and signalled to the others through the door that he was taking you home, and just to carry on with the game, before placing his hands on your shoulders from behind, spinning you around and practically pushing you towards the main road where he called for a taxi.

when the two of you got to your apartment, you fumbled around in your bag for your keys. harry laughing as he saw you struggle, grabbing your bag and pulling out your keys for you, unlocking the door and letting you stumble inside first, shutting the door behind him as he followed you in.

it was a good thing harry good handle is alcohol, as he was damn near sober, sober enough to take care of you properly.

you stumbled into the kitchen, steadying yourself with your hands on the countertop as you looked over at him.

"come on.. let's get you ready for bed." he said with a fond smile as he picked you up bridal style, a childish giggle escaping your lips as your arms wrapped around his neck, just as an extra precaution to make sure he doesn't drop you.

"harry wroetoshaw lewis if you drop me..." you laughed out, throwing your head back as he walked you down the hallway and into your bedroom.

"i won't drop you, love, don't you fret." he shook his head playfully as he plopped you down on the edge of your bed.

you sighed contently as you watched him disappear into your en suite bathroom, coming out with the bottle of micellar water and a cotton wool pad, crouching down infront of you.

without saying anything, he wet the wool pad with the micellar water and helped you wipe the makeup of your face, eliciting a small laugh from you and a smile.

once all your makeup was off he threw the cotton wool pad in the bin and looked at you, "you're so good to me..." you mumbled, titling your head as you smiled at him childishly.

"well, im not prepared to get a bollocking off of you in the morning when you wake up with your makeup on." he laughed out as he stood up.

you flopped back onto the bed with a sigh. "these jeans are so uncomfy.." you grumbled out as you swayed from side to side on the bed, as if the action would somehow wriggle them off of your body.

"you wanna get changed?" he asked, looking down at you as you nodded.

"gimme your hoodie." you practically demanded, crossing your arms as he laughed and shook his head.

"so demanding..." he mumbled, pulling his hoodie off over his head, the shirt that he had on underneath riding up slightly, a sight that caused a slight blush to creep up on your face, despite the flush you originally had from the alcohol in your system.

he walked over and stood infront of you, "arms up." he motioned with his hands as well as his words, with you happily obliging as he pulled the top you were wearing off your torso and over your head, placing it on the bed beside you.

you fumbled with the button of your jeans and unzipped them, laying back and lifting up your hips slightly as he pulled the denim off of your legs in one swift movement, before helping you into his hoodie, which you quickly settled into, the warmth of his body still stuck in the fabric, as well as the subtle scent of his cologne.

you let out a soft hum as you crawled over into your bed, snuggling in under the duvet, your head resting perfectly on the pillows.

"you comfy?" he asked, smiling at your drunken state.

"mhm.." you hummed with a small nod, just as extra reassurance. he nodded slightly as your eyes closed, and he knew you'd quickly drifted off to sleep as he made his way to your bedroom door, flicking the light off on his way out, making sure not to make too much noise when leaving your apartment.

the fresh sunlight woke you up as it filtered through the curtains of your room, the sun just directly shining on you as you rolled over with a groan, trying your hardest to shield yourself from the blinding light.

your eyes fluttered open, settling on the glass of water and paracetamol on the bedside table, a small smile forming on your face, your mind flooding with the memories of the previous night, and just how well harry had taken care of you. looking down at yourself and seeing the hoodie your were wrapped up warm in, quickly identifying it is harry's, causing your smile to grow.

although the smile was quickly overtaken by a frown as the pounding in your head grew. pushing yourself up on your arms slowly, and leaning back against the headboard; you reached over for the glass of water and tablet, desperate for some sort of pain relief.

and all you could thing to yourself was:

harry lewis, the man you are.

[starrihan]

could you write jay and jungw sharing y/n🙏🏾

-> Pairing: Jay x afab! Reader x Jungwon

-> Plot: your need for a roommate leads you to meeting Jungwon who always brings his friend Jay around

-> Genre: smut, 3some, jay is kind of a sleeze, shy jungwon, squirting, use of nicknames (baby girl), oral (m receiving), fingering, nipple play, kissing, orgasm denial, piv sex, creampie (always use protection!!), drooling

-> Warnings: none

-> Word Count: 2,205

-> Notes: you guys deliver quick I’m so happy to write requests 🤩🤩🤩 disclaimer tho this is my first 3some fic so please bear with me. also since this is a very broad ask please let me know if anything in this fic bothered you or wasn’t what you were expecting, I’m simply writing based on what I was given~ (not proofread)

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okay so im imagining a roommate type situation.

like Jungwon is your roomate who has his friend Jay over a lot so you slowly start getting acquainted to him too. you had advertised needing a roommate to help pay for rent. you weren't expecting a response so quick but jungwon jumped at the oppertunity and you didn't mind as long as he was clean and not a freak (at least one of those things is true.)

so there is born a new friendship, and roommate-ship between you and jungwon. you guys would hang out sometimes, often eating dinner together and watching a movie since you both got home from work or school around the same time. you kept to yourself a lot, not that he minded since he did too. but one day he asked if it was okay for him to bring friends over, which you happily allowed. that was the day you met Jay and a couple of his other friends. while he hung out with all of them, he hung out with Jay the most.

usually when he had his friends over, you stayed in your room, not wanting to bother them. sometimes they'd bring food back for you to which you were very thankful and you would eat with them. then you'd retreat back to your room for the rest of the night. you didn't know that you had caught Jay's eye. one time after eating dinner with them, you went back to your room like normal, thanking them for the food.

"yo, you ever hit that?"

cue jungwon almost choking on his food.

"what??? thats my roommate Jay, no."

"what? she's hot. can I have her if you won't?"

"I guess? i don't think she wants you though. she would've mentioned to me if she did."

jungwon had never seen you in that way before, but after seeing how Jay was talking about getting with you, he'd start to notice you a bit more. how smooth your legs always looked. how full your chest looked in your shirt. how nice your thighs and ass looked in those leggings. how it was so hard for him to control his boner around you. he wanted to curse Jay for bringing your sexiness to his attention. he never acted on it though. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or worse, be kicked out of the apartment. that didn’t stop Jay from making comments about you to him every so often.

༄ ༄ ༄

there’s one weekend where Jungwon was going to go on a trip with his friends. they were only going to be a couple hours away and they even invited you out as well, but you declined, preferring a relaxing weekend alone instead. of course they respected your wishes and left soon after. a little bit into their drive away, Jay realizes that he has left his wallet in Jungwon’s room and needed to go back to get it. they all head back and wait in the car while Jungwon and Jay go back inside.

you, having been home alone for about 30 minutes by now, didn’t know that they would be coming back. you wasted no time taking off your pants, finally being able to touch yourself without needing to hold back your moans. naturally due to your little whines and grunts, you don’t hear the front door open.

your noises alert the two males, going to check on you to make sure you’re fine before finally heading out. since you were home alone you felt no need to close your bedroom door, which just so happened to be down the hall from Jungwon’s. one peek inside your room was all it took for them to realize what was going on, you frozen in place like a deer in headlights.

they look at each other, Jungwon holding a shocked expression while Jay’s is the opposite, a crooked smirk appearing on his face.

“my, my, look what we have here.”

shocked and embarrassed can’t even begin to describe your emotions right now. your whole face is flushed red, body limp yet frozen, too shocked to even try to cover yourself up.

“w-what are you guys doing here?”

finally coming to, you grab the blanket closest to you, throwing it over your lower half to cover yourself. Jay’s smirk doesn’t fade as he walks up to you.

“no need to cover yourself up darling, we’ve already seen the goods.”

you didn’t want to admit how extremely hot you found Jay. despite the embarrassment you were currently feeling, a new wave of need was hitting you with every step closer he took. he would trace his fingers over your arm, which was still under the blanket as you were using it to get off. he would look back over to Jungwon whose sporting a painfully obvious boner.

“look at Jungwon, he’s hard from just seeing you like this. maybe you could help us out?”

you look between the two men, confused and turned on beyond belief. Jay helps your nerves, beckoning Jungwon over before placing a hand under your chin, tilting your head to the side so he has better access to you neck. once you feel his lips on your neck, you throw your head back, gasps leaving you mouth the closer her gets to your sweet spot.

Jungwon is on the other side of you, nervous as he reaches his hands around your waist, feeling up your curves and chest. you relax into their touch, getting off on the attention they're giving you as your hand resumes its previous task, 2 fingers delving in and out of your hole.

"such a dirty girl, getting off to the two of us touching you"

Jay tsks, replacing your hand with his own, using two of his fingers to help you out. Jungwon, pent up already, pulls his pants down to reveal his raging boner, tip red and angry. you waste no time wrapping your wet fingers around his length, slowly pumping as he sighs out of relief. Jungwon entangles his hands in your hair, leaning down to capture your lips as Jay continues his movements, following your neck as you kiss Jungwon.

you moan as Jay hits a particular spot your short fingers normally have trouble reaching, gasping into Jungwon's mouth as you pump him faster. Jay's nibbling at your neck, increasing his speed as he feels your walls clench around his fingers. you can't help the gush of liquid that comes out of you, soaking the blanket and Jay's hand.

"fuck, you're so hot"

you pull away from Jungwon to kiss Jay, hand pumping faster on Jungwon as he bucks his hips into your hand, pinching and playing with your nipples under your shirt. your moans don't stop, and that keeps them both going as Jay whips the blanket off of you. both men climb into the bed with you. you pull away from Jay as Jungwon helps you take your shirt off, placing your hand back on his length as soon as you're free from the material. Jay takes his pants off in the meantime, watching your tits bounce freely out of the shirt.

"mind if I have her first Won? I've been waiting for this,"

you look up at him, eyes pleading with him to just be in you already. Jungwon nods his head at the older, biting back moans as he tries not to cum just yet. Jay repositions himself to be in between your legs, lifting one of them up onto his shoulder as he rubs his tip against your folds, lubing himself up with your slick.

"ready baby girl?"

you nod like a madman, ready to have him fully inside you. you turn your head to jungwon, seeing his eyes screw shut as he's on the brink of release, and you pull your hand away. the loud whine from his throat is proabably the hottest thing you've ever heard.

"mouth..."

is all you can muster before Jungwon gets the memo, kneeling before you, inching his cock into your open mouth as Jay finally pushes in. the simultaneous moans from the 3 of you are loud, echoing throughout the house. you're trying your best to suck him off at this angle, drool spilling past your lips and down your chin, making its way down the rest of his length. Jay's pounding into you, soft at first but gradually getting more rough as you adjust to his size. the added finger rubbing your clit has you bucking your hips into his thrusts, and your mouth taking Jungwon in deeper.

your orgasms are all quickly approaching, not really trying to hold back as the pleasure grows too much for the 3 of you. Jungwon cums first and harder than you had expected, having denied his orgasm once before. you almost choke trying to swallow his load, scooping up any of his cum that slipped past your lips back into your mouth, savoring every last drop.

you cum next, moaning loud as your hips push into Jay's thrusts, walls fluttering around his length, causing him to release inside of you. you struggle to catch your breath as Jungwon pulls you into another kiss, relaxing a bit as Jay helps you ride out your orgasm. they both pull away from your spent body, exchanging looks before switching spots.

"w-what are you guys doing?'

you're half delirious, confused as to whats going on.

"I had my turn, now it's Jungwon's turn to be in you."

he turns to Jungwon,

"she's so tight, its the best feeling ever."

Jungwon smirks, confidence coursing through his body as he sees how exhausted you look.

"I can't wait,"

he positions himself between your legs, already hard again at the thought of being in you finally. he winces as he brings his tip up to your wet slit that's leaking both yours and Jay's cum, still a little sensitive from his prior release.

"please, it's too much... s-sensitive..."

your broken words only fuel him more.

"you can take a little more for us can't you?"

Jay says, smiling up at Jungwon, who finally pushes himself into your walls. Jungwon runs his hands up and down your body, soothing you of your overstimulation, Jay reaching his hand down to toy with your clit yet again. you buck your hips into them, so fucked out that you fail to produce a moan, mouth hanging open. Jay looks at you, taking his finger that were previously on your clit and bringing them up to your mouth.

"suck."

he commands. your eyes are rolled back into your head as you close your mouth on his fingers, coating his fingers with your saliva as he brings his free hand down to pump his length. your orgasm is approaching quickly as Jungwon continues to bully your hole. he can tell by the way you're frantically bucking your hips to meet his thrusts, losing your pace as spill all over him.

Jay's hands are moving quick on himself, cumming all over your pelvis and stomach as he empties himself. Jungwon takes the chance to bring both of your legs over his shoulders, pounding relentlessly as he's on the verge of cumming. the pleasure is slowly being replaced by pain, the overstimulation becoming too much. Jay can see the way your face contorts, releasing his fingers from your mouth and placing soft kisses on your neck.

"just a little more baby, hang on a little longer."

you nod, too fucked out to properly comprehend what his words mean. its at that point when Jungwon's hips finally stall, ropes of cum painting your walls as he empties every last drop in you. he pulls out slowly, and you whine, half at the loss of feeling full and half out of relief. he watches as the cum from all 3 of you slowly spills out, taking his finger and pushing it back into you. you arch your back and moan and the boys look at each other, smiling and laughing at your spent state.

they both lay on either side of you, silent and breath ragged as you all try to calm down. the air is heavy with the smell of sex but comforting nonetheless. once you've come back to your senses, you look at the 2 boys, remembering the trip they were supposed to go on.

"what are you guys doing here? i thought you were supposed to be on your trip?"

they look at each other, first looking scared realizing that they left their friends waiting outside for them, but then laughing.

"Jay left his wallet here so we came back to get it. they probably drove off without us already because we were taking too long."

Jungwon shrugs, getting up to grab his phone to check the many messages from their group chat confirming exactly what he said.

"whatever. we can go on another trip whenever we want. but this is more fun, right Y/N?"

you look at Jay, laughing at his implications, not yet worrying about what all this between the 3 of you could mean. they both look at you, smiling fondly at your next words.

"round 2?"

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JayWon have been WRECKING me these days! this ask was just scrumptious 🤤

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

Oh my god, sorry I’m late was so cute??????

How about a Drabble to go with that from the proposal? They’re chasing a storm and everything is like always. And they’re just standing watching the storm in the distance, the wind whipping around them and he looks at her and just knows he wants to marry her so he goes just down on one knee and asks her. (It also makes an epic video for the channel and gets millions of views lmao)

“The Fans Are Going To Love This!”

Twisters Masterlist (this piece can be read as a prequel to “Sorry, I’m Late,” but it doesn’t have to be)

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader

Summary: Watching a distant storm together, Tyler decides he’s done waiting to ask a very important question.

Author’s Note: I just realised this now makes two Twisters fics I’ve written involving a proposal. Oops! Oh well. 😇 This is (so far) my last fluffy request before delving into some angst. But I absolutely LOVED this idea! The picture came so clearly to me, I just had to give it life. (Yes, it was heavily inspired by Tyler watching Kate in that absolute beauty of a scene… shhhh. 🤫)

Warnings: Fluff (like usual lately, lol). Reader is described as having hair long enough to blow in the wind. I think that’s it!

Word Count: 738 (send help, it was supposed to be a drabble. 💀)

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Swirling grey storm clouds accumulate in the distance, thunder rumbling through the earth. Sweeping winds blow your hair wildly about your face, and Tyler is captivated.

No surprise, really. He’s been captivated by you since the first time he saw you, striding up to the team in the middle of a crowded parking lot, thermos and backpack in hand, asking to join them on a chase.

The exhilaration radiating from you at the end of that day was intoxicating, warmed further by the beers everyone had thrown back in a seedy bar a mile from the motel.

Walking you to your room, Tyler debated whether or not to say something—anything—about you joining the team more indefinitely.

He was just about to speak when your lips crashed onto his.

And the rest, they say, is history.

Your gasp drags him away from his musings. “It’s beautiful,” you murmur, camera up to your eyes, finger clicking rapidly.

Tyler smiles, taking in the sight of you before him.

He couldn’t agree more.

Sunlight frames your body like a halo, the angel come down to earth he’d always wanted, but never felt he deserved.

Affection warms his heart at the thought. Now’s the time.

“Tyler!” You cry, shouting over your shoulder, camera still pressed to your face. “Tyler, do you see—“ But your voice dies on the wind the second you turn around.

There’s a rustle from the RV behind him. Then, a gasped “Oh my God!”

Knee digging into the gravel, tiny black box cradled in his hands, Tyler watches as the shock on your face slowly drains away to disbelief.

“No… Tyler, you can’t—I don’t—“

Tears form a defense in your eyes, and you blink, battling them away.

Your name drifts off his lips, vulnerable like a prayer, his heart shaking like a leaf within his chest. Blown by the very winds around them.

He should list your strengths, your attributes, every miniscule detail he adores about you. Hell, at the very least he should use your full name. But instead, the only words to leave his lips are a desperate, “I love you. Baby, I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you. I knew then, and I know now… you’re the storm I want to chase for the rest of my life.” He fumbles with the box, revealing the small, elegant diamond Boone and Dexter had helped him pick out months ago. “Will—” his throat tightens, anxiety pounding in his blood. “Sweetheart, will you marry me?”

Your tears breach the barrier, cresting and rolling in fat droplets down your cheeks. Tyler watches as your lips tremble, mouth attempting to form words without a sound. Finally, the word he’s been holding his breath for since that first night in a seedy, run-down bar, drinks flowing and tongues wagging. The word he’s on one knee for now, praying will leave your mouth.

“Yes.”

It’s so quiet, barely audible over the ever-increasing winds. But the look on your face tells Tyler everything he needs to know.

Sweet ecstasy of relief floods his entire body.

“Yeah?” he questions, just to be sure.

A wide grin splits across your face, and you step closer, arms snaking around his shoulders.

“Tyler Owens,” you lean in close, lips inches away from his own, until he’s breathing your breath. “If you’re the last storm I chase for the rest of my life, I’ll die the happiest woman in the world.”

He pulls you into a kiss, your lips soft and supple beneath his. Your fingers tangle in the ends of his hair.

Whooping and hollering startles you both out of the kiss, the rest of the Wranglers descending like vultures. They talk over themselves, tripping over their tongues.

“It’s about time, T! What took you so long?” Dani.

“Congratulations! I dibs maid of honour!” Lily.

“The fans are going to love this!” Boone, stepping closer to the two of you, camera in hand.

Tyler turns to him, the lens now pointed directly in his face. You shift in his arms, waving shyly to the fans. A blush the colour of a dying sunset rises starkly on your cheeks.

“You think so, Boone?” Tyler grins, cheekily. Then, without thinking, he’s grabbing your chin, slowly descending into a long, deep kiss, pulling the ring out of the box and slipping it on your finger to the whoops and cheers of the rest of the gang.