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meadowfics · 2 days ago

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delivery

hwang jun-ho x pregnant!reader

the policeman is excited for his daughter to arrive

warnings: birth

this is a continuation and part two to this

it all starts late at night, just as you’re getting ready to climb into bed.

you’ve showered, slipped into your comfiest satin nightgown, and are looking forward to finally getting some rest.

jun-ho is already under the covers, scrolling through his phone while waiting for you.

just as you move to sit on the bed, you feel an unexpected sensation.

at first, you freeze, wondering if you’ve accidentally peed yourself.

this has happened before, due to your daughter using your bladder as a soccer ball.

the thought of it happening again makes your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“uh… jun-ho?”

you say hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

your partner's head snaps up immediately, his protective instincts kicking in.

“what’s wrong? are you okay?”

he’s already moving to sit up, concern etched into his features.

you glance down at yourself and mumble,

“i think… i think my water just broke.” the words feel strange to say, and you can’t help but feel a little self-conscious.

jun-ho blinks a few times, processing what you’ve just said. then his lips curl into a small, excited smile that he’s clearly trying to suppress.

“really? are you sure?” he asks, but he’s already reaching for the hospital bag that’s been packed for weeks.

you nod, still feeling a little flustered.

“yeah, i’m pretty sure. i mean, i didn’t feel any pain, but—” you trail off, looking at the growing damp spot on your nightgown.

“okay, okay, no need to worry,”

jun-ho says, his voice calm but laced with excitement.

he places a reassuring hand on your lower back, then gently guides you to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“let’s get you changed first, and then we’ll head to the hospital. our girl’s on her way.”

as you change into clean clothes, with the help of jun-ho.. the man hurries around the room, triple-checking the hospital bag, your phone, chargers, snacks, and anything else you might need.

you can tell he’s trying to stay composed, but the way he fumbles with the zipper on the bag gives away his excitement.

once you’re ready, he helps you into the car.

during the drive, you start to feel mild contractions. they’re not too bad yet, but jun-ho keeps glancing at you every few minutes, asking,

“how are you feeling? do you need anything? want me to play some music?”

you laugh softly, despite the growing discomfort.

“i’m fine, jun-ho. just focus on driving. i’d rather not give birth in the car.”

at the hospital, jun-ho is by your side every step of the way. he holds your hand tightly as the nurses check you in, offering comforting words and even cracking a small joke to lighten the mood.

“guess i’ll finally get to see if all those birthing classes paid off.”

as your contractions intensify, jun-ho stays calm and steady, never letting go of your hand. he rubs your back during the worst of it, whispering,

“you’re doing amazing, y/n. she’s so lucky to have you as her mom.”

hours pass, and jun-ho barely leaves your side. even when you’re tired and in pain, he keeps encouraging you, telling you how strong you are and how proud he is of you.

"you're doing so well, sweetheart."

when your contractions start getting stronger, jun-ho immediately shifts into “coach mode,” even though he’s never officially done this before.

he sits beside you, holding your hand tightly, and says,

“okay, y/n, remember to breathe. in through your nose, out through your mouth..just like we practiced.”

during a particularly intense contraction, just when you're seven centimeters dilated.. you grip his hand hard enough to make him wince, but he doesn’t say a word about it.

he's faced worst while being a detective.

instead, he rubs soothing circles on your back with his other hand, murmuring,

“you’re so strong, y/n. you’ve got this. just focus on breathing, one step at a time.”

every time the nurse comes in to check on you, jun-ho listens attentively, nodding as if he’s taking mental notes.

afterward, he turns to you and explains everything in a calm, steady voice, making sure you’re not overwhelmed.

“okay, so it sounds like you’re dilating really well. that means we’re getting closer. just a little more, and we’ll meet her.”

at one point, he notices you’re getting tense and you start clenching your jaw during a contraction.

“hey, relax your shoulders,” he says gently, placing his hands on them and giving them a light squeeze.

“it’ll help with the pain. you’re doing amazing, y/n.”

when you start to doubt yourself.. you start to cry,

“i don’t think i can do this,”

jun-ho immediately shakes his head and cups your face with both hands.

“yes, you can. you’ve already come so far. you’re the strongest person i know, y/n, and you’re not doing this alone. i’m right here with you.”

between contractions, he keeps you distracted by cracking small jokes.

“if she’s as stubborn as you, it’s no wonder she’s taking her time coming out.”

when you glare at him, he grins and adds,

“but stubbornness is a good thing. she’ll be tough, like her mom.”

when it’s time to start pushing, jun-ho positions himself right by your side, holding one of your legs and encouraging you with every push.

“you’re doing it, y/n. just a little more. you’re so close. i’m so proud of you.”

at one point, you grab the collar of his shirt in frustration during a particularly difficult push.. the ring of fire as doctors put it.

instead of panicking, he stays calm and says,

“that’s it, take it out on me. you can yell at me all you want..just keep going. you’re amazing, y/n."

the moment your daughter is born, just after three hours of pushing.. jun-ho’s eyes fill with tears. he looks at her, then at you, and his voice trembles as he says,

“she’s perfect. you did it, y/n.”

when the nurse places your baby girl in your arms, jun-ho leans in close, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both look at her in awe.

“welcome to the world, little one,”

your man whispers, his voice full of love.

even as exhausted as you are, you can see the way jun-ho can’t stop smiling. he keeps glancing between you and your daughter, like he can’t believe how lucky he is to have both of you.

later, as the three of you settle in for some quiet time, jun-ho gently brushes his fingers over your daughter’s tiny hand.

“she’s got your nose,” he says softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

"thank you for being the best."

you mumble, tired from the pushing.

“thank you, y/n. for everything. i love you so much.”

"I love you too."

you watch him as he carefully cradles your daughter, talking to her in a soft, soothing voice about how much he’s been waiting to meet her.

in that moment, you know your little family is already filled with so much love.

masterlist

#hwang jun ho #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang in ho #squid game #squid game s2 #squid game season 2 #multifandom account #squid game fanfic #squid game x y/n #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game x oc

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lupinqs · 2 days ago

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CHAPTER TWELVE ━━ Worried About You

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

❀ ━ word count: 5.9K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of unhealthy eating habits

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: so many fun things to come without that boy in the way

MORNING COMES too soon for Jo, pulling her from the deep, restless sleep she finally fell into. At first, she doesn’t open her eyes. She just lies there, warm and still, trying to cling to the hazy edges of unconsciousness. It’s better there. There, she doesn’t have to think. But then she shifts slightly and feels the unmistakable weight of an arm draped over her waist, a steady warmth pressed against her back.

For a fleeting second, in the soft, blurry quiet of waking up, her brain wants to think it’s Asher. That maybe last night was some awful, vivid nightmare, and she’ll roll over and find him there, smiling at her like everything is fine and he didn’t throw the last five—or, really, nineteen—years of their lives away. But then her thoughts sharpen, reality settling like a stone in her chest, and she remembers everything.

It’s not Asher’s arm around her. It’s Paige’s.

Her heart feels heavy all over again, sinking with the weight of the truth. Asher cheated. Since September. Three months of doing God-knows-what with that Brooke girl.

Her throat tightens, and she squeezes her eyes shut, willing the tears to stay put. She cried enough last night. Too much, probably. And Paige—God, Paige—was there for all of it. Patient and kind, not saying much but doing everything Jo needed, like pulling her back together without even trying.

Jo takes a deep breath, feeling it rattle deep in her ribs. Slowly, she turns in Paige’s arms until she’s facing her. The room is dim, the light from the window covered by the blanket Paige always keeps over it. Paige is awake, or mostly awake, blinking sleepily at her. Her blonde hair is a little messy, sticking up at certain edges, and her face is soft and unguarded.

When Paige notices Jo looking at her, a soft smile tugs at her lips. She reaches out, her hand brushing some hair away from Jo’s face with a gentle touch. Jo leans into it a little. “Hey,” Paige murmurs, her voice still thick with sleep.

Jo forces a small smile of her own. It’s weak, but it’s something. “Hey,” she whispers back.

They fall quiet again. Jo doesn’t know what to say, and Paige doesn’t seem in a rush to fill the silence. Paige’s arm is still wrapped around Jo’s waist, and the younger girl finds herself wanting to be even closer. It just—it feels good, being held like this. Comforting. Safe. She closes her eyes for a moment, letting herself sink into Paige’s warmth.

It’s not like Asher’s. Asher’s arms always felt solid, familiar, but Paige’s—Paige’s feel different. Softer, somehow, though still firm with muscle. Not worse, just… different. And maybe Jo likes it more than she should.

Her mind keeps circling back to everything that happened, no matter how much she wants it to stop. The fight. The crushing, suffocating betrayal. The excuses. Jo’s loved Asher for so long, she doesn’t even know how to think of herself without him. It’s always been them. People used to say they were inevitable, like something out of a movie. It feels like a joke now.

Her fingers tighten slightly around Bubbles, the stuffed turtle Paige had thought to grab for her last night. Jo had clung to it like a lifeline, the soft fabric soaked with tears by the time she’d finally fallen asleep. Paige hadn’t let go of her the entire night. She didn’t even flinch when Jo’s sobs soaked her shirt.

Paige shifts slightly, pulling Jo closer, her hand still resting lightly on Jo’s side. It’s like Paige knows Jo needs this without needing to be told. She always does. Jo doesn’t know how she does it, how Paige seems to understand her better than anyone else.

Paige’s thumb moves absentmindedly over the fabric of Jo’s shirt, a small, soothing motion that Jo finds herself focusing on. It’s helps to pull her away from the spiral of her thoughts a little. She lets out a slow breath, her body relaxing just slightly more against Paige’s.

“Thanks for dealing with me,” Jo whispers after a while.

Paige’s hand stills for a moment, and then she squeezes Jo’s side gently. “You’re not something that has to be dealt with, Jo,” she says slowly, voice soft but steady. “I’mma always be here for you, ’kay?”

Jo’s chest tightens again, but this time it’s not entirely from sadness. She doesn’t have the words to explain how much that means to her, how much Paige means to her. So she doesn’t try. She just shifts a little closer, letting her head rest against Paige’s shoulder. Paige doesn’t say anything else, and Jo appreciates that.

Jo isn’t sure how long they stay like that. But, eventually, Paige begins to slowly sit up, her hand still pressed against Jo’s side. Jo watches as the blonde rubs at her eyes a little, before looking down at her. She offers her another small smile.

“I’m gonna make you breakfast,” Paige says determinedly, her fingers trailing across Jo’s waist. “Just stay here. Relax. Go back to sleep if you want.”

Jo blinks at her, her lips parting as if to argue, but she doesn’t really have the energy to fight—even if it’s just a little bit of bickering. Besides, the idea of staying in bed, cocooned in the comfort of Paige’s blankets, is all too tempting, even if she doubts Paige’s ability to cook anything remotely edible. She’s a little afraid Paige might burn their apartment building to the ground, but she also knows that Paige is trying to help in the only way she can think of, and Jo doesn’t have it in her to tell her no.

“Okay,” Jo murmurs. “Just be careful.”

Paige just grins down at her, expression warm and inviting. She squeezes Jo’s side again before swinging her legs off the bed, standing. Jo’s eyes follow her as she moves toward the door. The blonde glances back at her, saying, “It’s gonna be good, trust,” before leaving through the bedroom door.

Once Paige is gone, the room feels quieter—emptier.

Jo sinks back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling as the events of the last twelve hours replay in her mind like a terrible movie. She can still hear Asher’s voice, still see the guilt, the desperation in his eyes.

Her stomach twists with nausea as the memory washes over her. She really doesn’t want to think about it anymore, but it’s like her brain isn’t giving her any other choice.

Jo sighs, feeling like she’s been run over by a train. She rolls onto her side, her hand reaching for her phone. She’s got to know, has to see. The urge is too strong to resist.

She unlocks her phone and goes straight to Asher’s Instagram. It’s like picking at a scab, painful but impossible to stop. Unable to help herself, she scrolls through his posts, her thumb pausing over a photo dump he posted a couple weeks ago. In the first photo, he’s at a football game, smiling, looking so carefree, like he doesn’t have a single regret in the world.

And then she’s going to his following, her heart pounding as she searches for a name—Brooke. He only follows one, and, sure enough when Jo clicks on her profile—the girl goes to Penn State. This is her.

Jo clicks on the first photo and almost immediately regrets it. Brooke is beautiful—brown hair that falls in perfect curls, striking green eyes that seem to glow, and a smile that’s so effortless it feels like a punch to Jo’s gut. Jo stares at the photo, her mind racing with questions she doesn’t want to ask but can’t seem to stop. What does she have that I don’t?

The thought makes her throat tighten, and she’s about to click away when the door creaks open. Paige steps back inside, leaning against the doorframe and staring at Jo curiously.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” she asks.

Jo hesitates, her finger hovering over the screen. She glances up at Paige, who’s already raising an eyebrow at her. With a sigh, Jo sits up fully in bed and turns the phone toward the blonde, showing her the photo of Brooke.

“Is she prettier than me?” Jo asks, trying to sound indifferent and failing miserably.

Paige’s expression shifts a little, her brow furrowing as she walks closer, stopping at the end of the bed. She leans in, looking at the photo for a long second before meeting Jo’s gaze, blue eyes intense.

“Who is she?” Paige questions, though her voice is firm enough that Jo thinks she might already know the answer.

Jo swallows hard anyway, the words catching in her throat. “The girl he cheated on me with,” she mutters. The sentence tastes bitter on her tongue.

The instant the words leave her mouth, Paige’s expression hardens. Without hesitation, she reaches down and snatches the phone right out of Jo’s hand. “Nah,” Paige says firmly, holding it just out of Jo’s reach. “You are not goin’ down that path.”

“Hey, give it back!” Jo protests, sitting up and reaching for the phone.

But Paige is quick, sliding away with a mischievous grin. “Uh-uh,” Paige says, her arm extended high with the phone, like she’s playing keep-away with a basketball. “You’re not gettin’ it back until you stop being all self-destructive.”

Jo narrows her eyes a little, her competitiveness somehow managing to break through despite the whole situation she’s got going on. “Paige, I swear—” She lunges, tackling Paige’s arm, but Paige squirms away, laughing some. The sound of Paige’s laughter—loud, unrestrained, and higher in pitch—is oddly infectious, and before Jo knows it, she’s laughing too. The sound bubbles out of her chest like a small spark of light breaking through the dark pressing down on her. It feels good, to laugh like this.

Jo pulls Paige, and the blonde ends up stumbling onto the bed. It freaks beneath them as they wrestle for the phone. Jo tries to pin Paige’s arm down, but she wriggles free easily enough. “Paige, I’m serious! Give it back!” Jo protests, hands grabbing at the older girl.

“I’m serious, too!” Paige retorts, dodging Jo’s next grab with an exaggerated roll. “This is for your own good, JoJo!”

“Don’t ‘JoJo’ me!” Jo huffs, planting her hands on the mattress to steady herself before diving forward again. This time, she catches Paige’s wrist, but Paige twists her body, and suddenly they’re tumbling together across the bed, laughter spilling out of them again. For the first time since she found out, Jo isn’t thinking about Asher, or Brooke, or the overwhelming heartache that’s been sitting heavy within her. All she can focus on is the sheer ridiculousness of her and Paige’s impromptu wrestling match and the warmth that comes with it.

Paige, of course, ends up with the upper hand. With one final burst of effort, she pushes Jo back against the pillows, straddling her waist and pinning her wrists to the bed. “Ha!” Paige exclaims loudly. But then her voice grows a little softer as she grins down at Jo, murmuring, “I win.”

Jo stills, her laughter fading as she suddenly becomes acutely aware of the position they’re in. Paige is above her, her legs on either side of Jo’s hips, her hands firm but gentle around Jo’s wrists. Paige’s face is so close, her still untamed bed head framing her flushed cheeks, her lips slightly parted as she catches her breath. Jo’s heart does their weird, traitorous thing where it skips a beat, and she doesn’t know why. Or maybe she does, but she refuses to acknowledge it because the insinuation would be nothing short of absurd.

Her eyes trace Paige’s face—those pretty blue eyes that always seem to see straight through her, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the way her mouth quirks just slightly like she’s still holding back a laugh. Jo’s gaze dips, just for a second, to Paige’s lips, and then she quickly looks away, heat flooding her cheeks. God, this whole Asher thing must have given her brain damage or something.

Paige doesn’t seem to notice Jo’s sudden shift in demeanor. She’s too busy leaning closer, her expression softening as she speaks. “You are a million times fuckin’ prettier than that bitch,” Paige says firmly, resolutely, the kind of tone she uses when she’s absolutely sure of something. “But stalking her is only gonna make you feel worse. I’m serious, Joey. I’ll revoke your phone privileges if I have to.”

Jo blinks, feeling Paige’s words cutting through some of the self-loathing that’s been poisoning her brain. Paige says it like it’s a fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and it does actually make Jo believe her. Just a little.

Still, she can’t help the sarcastic quip that slips out. “What are you, my mother?” she asks.

Paige grins, leaning back just slightly but still keeping Jo’s wrists pinned. “Nah,” she replies, her voice light. “’M your captain. So you gotta listen to me.”

Jo rolls her eyes, but it’s more playful than annoyed. “Sure,” she mumbles, though the corners of her mouth twitch upward. She feels a little lighter now, like Paige’s words and antics have managed to patch up some of the open wounds.

But then Paige’s gaze locks with hers, and the air around them stills. They’re just staring at each other now, the laughter fading into silence. Paige’s hands are still on Jo’s wrists, her knees pressing into the mattress to keep her balanced. Jo’s pulse quickens as she stares at Paige’s eyes. There’s something in her expression—something soft and searching—that makes Jo’s breath catch.

Her thoughts begin to jumble into a mess of confusion and something else. Because why does Paige have to look at her like that? And why does she have to be so close, her presence so suddenly overwhelming? And, most importantly, why does it make Jo’s heart feel like it’s about to burst out of her chest?

The moment stretches heavily, until, like a switch is flipped, Paige seems to snap out of it. She blinks, breaking eye contact, and quickly rolls off of Jo, her movements abrupt. “C’mon,” she says, grabbing Jo’s hand and tugging her toward the edge of the bed. “Breakfast.”

Jo lets out a shaky breath, sitting up and following Paige. But as she glances at Paige’s back, a small part of her wonders what that was—and why she kind of wishes it had lasted longer.

PAIGE SITS on the couch, one leg tucked underneath her, the glow of the TV reflecting faintly off her face. The UConn men’s team is playing, but she isn’t paying much attention, not really. She’s scrolling through her phone during timeouts, trying to keep her mind from drifting to Jo. It’s not like she’s trying to smother Jo with concern—it’s just that lately, it feels impossible not to worry. Jo’s been… off. Maybe not in ways that anyone else would notice, but Paige sees it. She pays so much attention to her that it would be impossible not to.

Jo isn’t as okay as she pretends to be. It’s in the way she laughs, too loud and too often, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as everyone else that she’s fine. It’s in the way she brushes off questions about how she’s doing or jokes when someone pries too much. But Paige knows better. She sees how Jo has thrown herself into basketball like it’s the only thing tethering her to the ground, the way she pushes herself so hard in practice that she’s damn near sick afterward. She knows Jo is out at either ungodly hours of the night or ungodly hours of the morning, always trying to get more reps in. And it’s not just the basketball.

Paige can tell Jo’s forgetting meals. Lately, she’s been having to remind her to drink or hydrate herself much more often, because she can tell that she hasn’t. Paige knows Jo isn’t doing it intentionally—she’s just been forgetting, too caught up in everything else to remember she needs to take care of herself, too.

Paige knows Jo’s been struggling since the breakup with Asher, and while Jo has always been a perfectionist, always had basketball as her number one priority, this feels different. More self-destructive.

And Paige doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like feeling like she’s watching Jo slowly burn herself out and not knowing how to stop it. Jo doesn’t let people see her cracks—she’s so stubborn about it, only allowing people to see the happy-go-lucky side of her—but Paige sees them anyway. It’s like watching someone tread water, the strain starting to show in every movement, and Paige can’t shake the anxiety that one day Jo’s going to slip under.

She sighs, staring blankly at the TV as the Alex Karaban makes a three. The apartment feels too quiet without Jo here. Jo said she’d be studying with Ice tonight, but Paige doesn’t entirely believe her. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Jo—it’s just that, lately, Jo hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about what she’s doing. Paige has a bad feeling she’s at the gym or running herself into the ground somewhere, but she doesn’t know how to call Jo out on it without starting a fight.

The sound of the front door opening snaps Paige out of her thoughts. She glances over as Jo steps inside, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, her ponytail bouncing as she kicks the door shut behind her. Jo grins at Paige, breathless and bright-eyed, as she bends down to untie her shoes. “Hey,” she says, her voice chipper in a way that only deepens Paige’s suspicion.

Paige narrows her eyes slightly, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Hey…” she replies slowly, her tone cautious. Jo’s coat is still zipped up, and her sneakers are wet, leaving faint marks on the floor. Jo’s grinning, but her face is shiny with sweat, like she’s been moving hard for a while. Paige tilts her head, her eyebrows drawing together as she asks, “Were you running?”

Jo shrugs off her coat, avoiding Paige’s gaze as she tosses it over the back of a chair. “Um… yeah,” she says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Paige stares at her, incredulous. It’s nearly midnight. It’s December. It’s freezing outside. Jo is nineteen, a teenage girl running in the pitch-black cold of winter, and it’s so obviously not safe that Paige can’t believe Jo thought it was a good idea. And yet, Jo’s standing there like it’s nothing, like she’s completely unaware of how reckless it is, how it makes Paige’s chest tighten with something uncomfortably close to panic.

“Bro,” Paige says, her voice sharp, her heart pounding just a little faster as she sits up straighter on the couch. “You gotta stop doing that. You’re gonna get sick or fuckin’ kidnapped.”

“P, I’m not gonna get kidnapped,” Jo says with an airy, dismissive laugh, brushing her off like it’s nothing. Like the idea is so ridiculous it doesn’t even deserve consideration. But Paige can’t just let it go. She doesn’t like the thought of Jo out there alone, running through the freezing December night with God knows who lurking around, and the fact that Jo doesn’t seem to care—or even notice—just makes it worse.

Paige shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line as she gestures for Jo to come closer, patting at the couch cushion. “C’mere,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Jo hesitates for the briefest of moments before sighing and making her way over. She flops onto the couch beside Paige with the kind of carelessness that’s so uniquely Jo, her movements loose and unguarded. Without a word, she curls into Paige’s side, her head resting on Paige’s shoulder, her body folding into Paige like this is second nature. Because by now, it is.

Paige’s heart skips a beat, like it always does when Jo gets this close. She wraps her arms around Jo instinctively, holding her tight like she’s something fragile and precious that might slip through her fingers if she’s not careful. Her chest tightens with the feelings she never knows what to do with��feelings she’s spent months trying to suppress, trying to shove down deep where Jo won’t see them. But it’s impossible to ignore the way her body reacts to moments like this, the way her pulse quickens and her breath hitches, the way she feels like she’s holding her entire world in her arms.

“You’re freezing,” Paige murmurs, her voice soft but filled with quiet concern. She starts rubbing her hands up and down Jo’s arms, trying to generate some warmth. Jo’s skin is icy under her fingers, and the thought of her being out in this weather makes Paige’s stomach clench all over again.

“I feel good,” Jo disagrees, her tone light and casual, like she doesn’t even notice the chill seeping into her body. But Paige can feel the way Jo leans into her warmth, just a little. She’s been like this recently—minimizing, brushing things off, pretending she doesn’t need anything from anyone. It drives Paige a little crazu, but it also makes her want to hold Jo tighter, to make sure she knows she doesn’t have to do it all by herself.

For a few minutes, they just sit like that, Paige holding Jo close, her hands still rubbing warmth into Jo’s arms even though she knows Jo won’t ask for it. The TV plays in the background, but Paige isn’t paying attention to it anymore. All she can focus on is the weight of Jo against her, the steady rise and fall of her breath, the faint scent of Jo’s shampoo mixing with the cold air clinging to her skin. It’s a little bit intoxicating.

Eventually, though, the gnawing worry in the back of her mind pushes its way back to the surface, and Paige remembers something she needs to ask. She tilts her head slightly, glancing down at Jo. “Hey,” she says softly, her voice cutting through the comfortable quiet. “Have you eaten?”

Jo doesn’t respond right away. She makes a little face, her nose scrunching up like she’s just remembered something she forgot to do. “Um… this morning?” she says, her voice unsure, almost like she’s questioning herself.

Paige gives her a look, her brows knitting together in frustration and concern. “Jo,” she exclaims, her voice sharper than she intends. She knows she shouldn’t push, shouldn’t scold, but it’s hard not to when she sees Jo taking care of everything but herself.

“It’s fine,” Jo says, waving her off like it’s no big deal. Paige hates how easily Jo dismisses her own well-being, like it’s the last thing on her priority list.

“It’s not,” Paige says firmly, shaking her head. She squeezes her arms around Jo slightly, as if it might drive the point home. “You gotta eat to stay healthy.”

“I know,” Jo mumbles, her eyes fluttering shut as she leans further into Paige’s warmth. Her voice is soft, almost apologetic, but there’s something resigned about it too, like she’s heard it all before and doesn’t want to hear it again.

Paige considers pressing her, considers giving her a whole speech about how she can’t keep running herself into the ground like this, but something in Jo’s expression stops her. She looks tired, and Paige decides to let it go for now. Instead, she grabs her phone off the couch cushion and opens DoorDash, scrolling through the options.

“Whatchu want?” Paige asks, her voice gentler this time.

Jo doesn’t open her eyes at the question. Instead, she shifts a little, nestling closer into Paige’s side like she’s trying to mold herself into the older girl. “Pick for me,” she mumbles, her voice muffled against Paige’s hoodie.

Paige rolls her eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. She knows this game by now. Jo says she doesn’t care, but Paige knows better—she always cares. Jo’s just too tired to bother making a decision for herself. And anyway, Paige knows her better than anyone else, so it’s not like it’s hard. Jo’s a creature of habit. She always orders the same thing: chicken tenders or a burger, fries with extra salt, and usually a ridiculously sweet milkshake.

Paige taps the order into her phone quickly, almost automatically, and then sets it aside on the armrest, her arm falling back around Jo like it belongs there. The weight of Jo against her is familiar now, like it’s just part of her life, and she wonders if Jo even realizes how often she leans on her like this. Probably not.

For a while, they just sit there, tangled together on the couch. Jo’s body is heavy against hers, the kind of heavy that means she’s suspiciously close to falling asleep. Paige feels the faint rhythm of Jo’s breathing against her side, slow and even, and she can tell Jo’s teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

“Y’know,” Paige says softly, nudging Jo’s shoulder, “you can’t eat if you’re asleep.”

Jo frowns a little at that, her eyebrows pulling together, but she doesn’t open her eyes. “I’m tired,” she mutters, her voice thick and groggy, like she’s already half-dreaming. And then, after a beat, she adds, quieter, “And my body hurts.”

Paige lets out a sigh. She knows why Jo’s body hurts—of course she does. That happens when you push yourself as hard as Jo’s been doing.

“I wonder why,” Paige says dryly, giving Jo a pointed look even though Jo’s eyes are still closed, not even registering the glare Paige is sending her way.

Jo cracks one eye open at that, just barely, and then lifts her hand to swat at Paige’s arm in the weakest attempt at a rebuttal. Paige catches her hand easily, holding it in hers for a moment before tugging her upright, gently but insistently.

“Paige,” Jo whines, her voice taking on that petulant tone she gets sometimes when she’s tired.

“Shh,” Paige says, ignoring the weak protest as she shifts Jo around. It takes a little maneuvering, but eventually, she gets Jo where she wants her: sitting between Paige’s legs with her back pressed against Paige’s front, her head resting against Paige’s collarbone.

For a second, Jo doesn’t move, her body stiff with confusion, but then Paige’s hands find her shoulders, and she feels Jo relax all at once, like the tension just drains out of her. Paige starts working her fingers into the tight muscles there, thumbs pressing into the knots she knows are always hiding just beneath Jo’s skin.

It’s instinctive, really. She’s done this before, whenever Jo really needs her to, and she knows exactly where the worst of it is. Her thumbs trace the line of Jo’s shoulder blades, pressing firmly but carefully, and Jo lets out this small, quiet hum of appreciation, her head tilting slightly to the side.

“You’re so knotted up, Joey,” Paige mutters, half to herself, her fingers finding another stubborn knot and working at it slowly. As her own words register with her, Paige can’t help but think to herself—pause. That sounded far different than she meant it to.

Jo doesn’t appear to be thinking about that, though, instead making another little sound, something between a hum and a sigh, and she leans back into Paige more, her head tipping to the side to give Paige better access. “That feels good,” she mumbles, her voice low and drowsy.

Paige smiles faintly at that, though she feels her cheeks heat, too. Her hands move up to Jo’s neck, her fingers pressing gently into the base of her skull. She can feel Jo melting against her, her body going soft and pliant, and it’s almost too much. The closeness, the weight of Jo against her, the way her fingers are in Jo’s hair now, brushing lightly against her scalp—it’s enough to make Paige’s heart race, her stomach flutter.

“You gotta stop letting yourself get this tense,” Paige murmurs, her voice softer now, almost affectionate. “It’s not good for you.”

Jo doesn’t respond, just hums again, her eyes falling shut as Paige’s hands work their way back down to her shoulders. Paige keeps going, her fingers kneading gently, carefully, until she feels the last of the tension start to ease.

Eventually, she lets her hands still, her fingers lingering on Jo’s shoulders for a moment before she leans forward, resting her chin on Jo’s shoulder. Her nose brushes against Jo’s neck lightly, and she feels Jo shift slightly, leaning into her touch without even thinking about it.

“Joey,” Paige says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I’m really worried about you.”

Jo doesn’t say anything, but Paige can feel the way she stiffens slightly, her body tensing again under Paige’s hands.

“I need you to promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” Paige continues, her words coming out softer now, gentler, but no less firm. “I’m serious. You can’t keep doin’ all this.”

Jo doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, Paige wonders if she’s pushed too hard, said too much. But then Jo shifts again, leaning back against her, and Paige can feel the way she nods, just a little, like she’s letting herself lean on Paige for once.

And even though Paige knows Jo might not be able to do good on her answer—not entirely, not yet—she also knows that if Jo can’t take care of herself, Paige will do her best to take care of her. She always will.

IT TAKES a couple of weeks, but Jo eventually starts slipping back into healthier habits. It’s slow, gradual, almost imperceptible at first—like the way spring melts into summer. But Paige notices every small change. She notices when Jo starts remembering to eat without being reminded, when she actually stretches after practice instead of just crashing into a chair. She notices when Jo finally stops going out on late-night runs, and she’s proud to say she played a part in putting an end to that.

Okay, maybe Paige’s a little overbearing. She’s aware of it, but she doesn’t care. If being overbearing means making sure Jo isn’t spiraling again, so be it. It’s worth it, even if it means insisting on walking Jo back to her dorm every night after team meetings and double-checking that she’s actually getting enough sleep. And if that also happens to mean sharing a bed almost every night—whether it’s in Jo’s room or her own—then that’s just a bonus. Paige tries not to think too hard about how much she prefers it that way.

Jo doesn’t complain. If anything, she seems to welcome it. She lets Paige pull her into bed when her eyelids get heavy at a respectable hour, lets Paige cuddle in with her. It’s just what’s become normal.

It’s only when Paige realizes what’s driving Jo—what’s keeping her grounded—that everything else starts to click into place. Jo wants a national championship. That’s what she’s been laser-focused on since day one, the thing that keeps her going even when her body’s sore and her mind is tired. And Paige gets it—God, she really gets it. She’s been there before. Paige knows what it’s like to push through pain, to have that singular drive that makes everything else fade into the background.

And because she understands it, she steps up. Jo doesn’t ask her to, but Paige can’t help herself. She starts staying after practice, waiting for Jo to finish her drills so she can point out the tiny things—the positioning of her feet, the angle of her wrist on a jumper, the way she can seal a defender better when posting up. Paige has been where Jo is; she’s been the All-American freshman, the star on the rise. If anyone can help Jo get to that next level, it’s her. And besides, with her ACL still recovering, she might as well make herself useful.

It’s not like Jo needs much help. She was elite when she got to UConn, and now she’s something else entirely. Since Azzi went down in the Notre Dame game a couple of weeks ago, Jo’s stepped up in ways no one saw coming. She’s putting up ridiculous numbers—National Player of the Year numbers, if Paige’s being honest—and carrying the team in a way that even Geno outwardly tells her he’s proud about. Paige is proud, too. Obviously.

They’ve never been closer. Which is saying something, considering they’ve been close since basically the first day of living together. But now, it’s like their lives are so tightly intertwined they don’t know where one of them ends and the other begins. They spend almost every night together now, to the point where it’s become more unusual to sleep apart. Paige’s bed or Jo’s bed—it doesn’t matter. When they’re on the road for away games, they’ve even managed to pull off the occasional roommate swap, with Ice (Paige’s roommate) and Dorka (Jo’s roommate) begrudgingly covering for them. The arrangement works as long as CD never finds out. And while Ice and Dorka make it clear they’ll throw Jo and Paige under the bus if anyone asks, Paige can tell they don’t really mind much.

Still, Paige can’t really ignore the blatant truth at this point: that this isn’t how normal friends act. She knows that. She knows this thing with Jo—whatever it is—has gone beyond the walls of regular friendship. Friends don’t fall asleep in each other’s arms. Friends don’t hold each other like this, tangled up in hotel beds with no space between them.

But Jo doesn’t seem to notice—or if she does, she doesn’t say anything. And Paige doesn’t want to ruin it by bringing it up, especially with the breakup still fresh and still in the unknown about whether Jo feels anything at all for her. So she stays quiet, pushes her own thoughts to the side, and tells herself it’s fine. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

Tonight is another one of those nights.

The hotel room is quiet, save for the hum of the heater in the corner and the soft sound of Jo’s breathing. The team had won earlier—a conference game that Jo basically dominated—and Paige had watched from the bench, half coach, half cheerleader. She can still picture Jo on the court, the way she sliced through defenders like they weren’t even there, the way she carried the team on her back like it was nothing.

Now, they’re curled up in the same bed, the blankets pulled up to their chins. Jo’s body is warm and solid against her, her head tucked beneath Paige’s chin, and Paige swears she can still feel the residual adrenaline humming through Jo’s veins.

“Jo,” Paige murmurs after a long stretch of silence, her voice low and soft. She doesn’t even know what she’s about to say; the words are just there, waiting to spill out.

Jo shifts slightly, turning her head so her cheek rests against Paige’s collarbone. “Hmm?”

“You were really good tonight,” Paige tells her, lips brushing against Jo’s hair.

Jo doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she presses a little closer, her arm looping around Paige’s waist. “’Cause of you,” she mumbles, her voice quiet, almost shy.

Paige swallows hard. She wants to say something, wants to tell Jo how much she really means to her, how proud she is, how she’s the best thing that’s happened to this team—but the words catch in her throat.

Instead, she tightens her arm around Jo, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric of Jo’s shirt. It’s enough.

For now.

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narcissisticsmoker · 2 days ago

Text

She should be focused. She should be answering emails, organizing reports, nodding along in meetings. But her phone buzzes again, and she already knows it’s me.

She shouldn’t check. Not here. Not now. But she does.

Thinking about you.

Three simple words, but they spark something dangerous, something primal. She shifts in her chair, adjusting the oversized hoodie draped over her, suddenly hyper-aware of how there’s nothing beneath it. No bra. Just soft fabric teasing her already sensitive skin, her nipples stiffening against it at the mere thought of what’s coming next.

Another buzz.

Bet your panties are already soaked.

Her breath catches. She knows she should ignore me, but she doesn’t. Her fingers hover over the screen before unlocking her phone, her pulse hammering.

It’s a gif.

A slow, filthy, devastatingly hot gif, lips wrapping around a cock, hollowing out, taking it deep, eyes rolling back, spit glistening. She exhales sharply through her nose, thighs pressing together beneath her desk, heat flashing through her body so suddenly it nearly knocks the air from her lungs.

Then another buzz.

Imagine it’s you. On your knees. Looking up at me. Taking every inch, drooling, gagging, desperate for my cock down your throat.

She gasps, a barely-there sound that she prays no one heard. She slams her phone face-down, pressing a hand to her mouth, trying to collect herself. The office is still moving around her, voices, typing, the low hum of machines, so painfully normal while she is unraveling.

Another buzz.

She shouldn’t look.

She does.

Another gif.

This time, fingers dragging through slick folds, teasing, spreading. A slow, torturous motion that makes her throb, makes her swallow hard, makes her feel too hot in her hoodie, in her own skin.

I know you’re not wearing a bra. I know you’re squirming, biting your lip, trying to keep still. I know you’re soaked through your panties, and I bet if I ran my fingers between your legs right now, they’d slide right in without resistance.

She grips the edge of her desk, nails biting into the wood. Her panties are clinging to her, damp, sticky, unbearable. She crosses her legs tighter, but it only makes it worse, makes her more aware of the empty, pulsing ache between her thighs.

Another buzz.

Be a good girl and don’t touch yourself. Sit with it. Let it build. Let me ruin you, right there in that chair, surrounded by people who have no idea how wrecked you already are.

Her entire body tenses, desperate, overwhelmed, aching.

She should stop. She should block me. She should throw her phone across the room.

But instead, she grabs it with trembling fingers.

And types please…

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hgfictionwriter · 3 days ago

Text

Revelations: Part Two

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie's confession leaves you reeling. It changes everything and you don't know how to even begin to navigate the emotions and hardships that come with it.

Warnings: Angst. Language.

You blinked several times and your mouth fell open to speak, but zero words came. Your jaw remained slack while a frown slowly formed as your thoughts ricocheted inside your head. You stared at Jessie, vaguely processing the deep look of concern on her face.

"I-I had no idea," she began to speak with a new urgency spurred on by your silence. She shifted closer to you and held out her hands in her lap in emphasis. "I just," she shook her head as she tried to find her words. “I arrived for a game and she was there. I-"

“Wait. Who,” you finally spoke as your frown deepened while your mind struggled to comprehend what was being said.

“Um, well, Sara,” Jessie said as you saw her trying to compose herself again. “My um, ex? I guess? I don’t know what to call her, really. But, um," she swallowed hard, gaze fixed on the floor as she spoke, "she told me we needed to talk." She glanced at you, eyes pleading. "I-I didn't know what to do with that information. It seemed so weird - I hadn't seen or talked to her in years and all of a sudden she just showed up wanting to talk? And you know how things are at the doors, I just rush through, so I just kinda nodded, but moved past. I didn't even exchange information with her."

She swallowed audibly again and began to wring her hands together. Her voice quivered.

"I didn't think much of it. I thought maybe she wanted to catch up and I dismissed it because, I don't know - she and I were connected so briefly," she said as her voice rose in pitch and she rubbed her face roughly.

Her shoulders visibly rose and fell as she took a second. She looked at you more fully and her eyes glistened with mounting tears.

"She showed up at the next game - same thing. But this time she held out her phone to me." Her pace slowed and her eyes drifted briefly to the floor. "She had a picture up."

Your heart pounded so heavily in your chest that you felt for sure she could hear it. You watched wordlessly, jaw now clenched tightly as she retrieved her phone. She eventually turned it over to you.

Somehow you managed to lift your hand, a tremble in the action, as you took the phone. Your breath held stagnant in your throat as you looked down to see an image of a little girl with dark, wispy curls looking up at the camera with a familiar smile. Her cheeks were tinged pink with freckles adorning them and her nose.

The synapses in your brain fired rapidly as pieces fell into place. You tried to swallow, but nearly choked at the effort. You stared at the photo so long that her screen locked. Your stunned expression reflected in the darkened screen for several seconds before you looked up at her.

Jessie stared at you, eyes wide and searching. She looked terrified.

"What am I looking at?" You eventually asked, voice wavering with how dry and tight your throat was. Jessie inched closer to you, knees now touching yours. She gently retrieved her phone from your limp grasp.

"That's-that's Zoie," she announced softly, her voice nearly a whisper. "My daughter."

It was her second time confessing it, but this time it hit you hard and square in the chest. The feelings that had been simmering and forming just beneath the surface came rushing up. You shook your head several times and let out a weak laugh.

"I-I don't understand. What are you talking about?" You shifted your gaze up to the ceiling and waved your hands about in confusion and desperation. "How do you even know? That could be anyone's kid!"

The weight in your chest undermined your words. The image you just saw on her phone was near impossible to deny despite every fibre of your being wishing for this to be some horrible misunderstanding.

Jessie didn't respond immediately and you snapped your head back down to see her eyeing you remorsefully.

"I know," she said quietly, casting her gaze down as she opened her phone to look at the photo again. "It's a lot to absorb. I-I didn't believe it at first either."

You realized that your jaw was clenched so tightly that your teeth were starting to ache. Your fingers dug painfully into the tops of your thighs. Tears began to burn behind your eyes and you stared hard at Jessie. She didn't cower, but her shoulders were hunched as she stared absently at the photo.

"She's mine, Y/N," she said softly, looking up to you once more. "Sara and I-"

The mention of this other woman brought out a visceral reaction in you.

"Wait - hold up. Who the hell is Sara again?" You interjected. "I don't remember you ever mentioning her." Jessie sighed wearily, picking at the corners of her fingers.

"She," Jessie started, waving her hand around aimlessly, "was, kind of just some girl. She was on the track team and we met during my last couple of months at UCLA. We'd really only been on a few dates before I got signed to Chelsea and left for London. I stopped hearing from her not long after I left. I didn't really know why. And I didn't really question it either - we weren't committed, I was busy - new life, new career. I didn't give it more thought." She exhaled somberly. "Now I know why."

Your pulse was still pounding loudly in your head as her words settled in.

"Just 'some girl'?" You asked as your raised your eyebrows. "Some girl - who happened to have your kid," you said with surprising steadiness as you stared her down.

She winced, recoiling slightly and burying her face in her hands before lowering them.

"I know this is a lot to dump on you. I-I'm so sorry, babe," she said. She huffed irritably. "This is why I didn't say anything for so long. I had to wrap my head around things and I just couldn't even begin to fathom what to say to you."

You sniffled and sat up straighter. "So what. You fuck this girl. She gets knocked up. But...you're in London when she finds out? And what - she just doesn't tell you? She just carries on - lives her life, has your kid. And all of a sudden decides to confront you?" You asked bewildered.

"I know," she said sullenly as she closed her eyes. "She chose not to tell me because I was so far away and I had no intention of coming back to LA. And, I don't know, she said she just didn't see how it would work and didn't want me to abandon this great opportunity." She sighed. "But when I transferred to Portland, she thought it was time. Zoie's starting kindergarten in September - other kids have their parents and, Sara just thought it wasn't fair to Zoie..."

Your throat was dry all over again. As she talked it dawned on you that she'd been having all of these conversations and developments with this woman. Her ex. The mother of her child.

"So all of this hiding around, secret calls and texts, late nights - all of this bullshit - you've been sneaking around talking with her?" Saliva pooled in your mouth as you thought about it.

Jessie fidgeted. "Yes. But - it was all about Zoie. Trying to figure things out. There was absolutely nothing else going on. I swear," she said adamantly as she grasped your hands. You might've pulled away if your limbs didn't feel numb. "She knows I'm in love with you. So in love with you. And that we're engaged."

You stared vacantly at the floor as you gave a slow shake of your head. None of this was making sense. This just couldn't be real.

"I don't - I don't even know what to think," you said. "What does all of this mean? W-what now?" You asked as you tried to keep your voice even and calm.

Jessie held your hand tightly as she retracted the other to rub her mouth in thought. Her voice cracked as she started to speak.

"She's staying with her aunt up here and is looking for a place to live. Zoie's enrolled in a school up here now. And," Jessie released your hand to clasp hers together, shoulders rising with a breath, "I...I'm going to be a part of Zoie's life. She's my daughter. And I'm going to help raise her." She took a deep breath. "And I pray that you want to do that with me."

You opened your mouth to speak, mind still reeling. Your jaw flexed a couple of times as you tried to find your words and Jessie forged on in your silence.

"I love you so much," Jessie said, voice breaking once more. "And I know you didn't sign up for this. I don't want to lose you, but, I can't walk away from this. Now that I know, I can't just pretend or try to make this all go away," she said with increasing breaths. Her eyes filled with tears, "And it's been killing me to lie to you. You're the love of my life, my best friend, and to keep this from you the past few weeks has been torture. You're the one who I talk to when things are hard, when I need advice, and to know that this could hurt you," her voice grew taut as tears began to fall, "and that it would change everything..." She took a shuddering breath. "All I ever wanted was to make you feel loved and safe. And now..."

Her shoulders shook as she began to cry fully. Despite the shock and concoction of still-unnamed emotions coursing through your body, you still found yourself reaching out to comfort her. It was automatic. Natural.

She cried harder as you placed your arm around her and she curled into you, clutching you desperately to her in a way she never had before. You blinked, nonplussed, but embraced her nonetheless.

Your mind flashed back to a moment all those weeks ago. Suddenly, that moment took on a whole new context.

You slowly blinked, waking as you heard rustling at the front door. You yawned and stretched out in bed.

"Jess?" You called, voice slightly hoarse with sleep. You rubbed your face as you reached over to check the time on your phone.

1:45am

"What the fuck," you whispered as you stared at the time with a wince. You sat up and looked out into the darkened apartment.

You'd been at her game that night and was planning to wait for her, but she'd texted you right before warm-ups telling you that coach wanted to speak with her after the game. She told you she loved you and to not to wait up. She'd meet you at home.

"You can turn on a light, Jess - it's fine," you called. She didn't respond, but soon you heard her slowly pad into the room. You frowned as you made out her silhouette. "Are you okay? Why are you home so late?"

"Uh, coach had us do a debrief and study plays. And then Janine and I just stayed after and talked," she said blandly and with a heavy breath. She wordlessly got changed and climbed into bed, curling into herself at the far edge. "I'm sorry to wake you," she said softly into her pillow.

You gave a small chuckle. "It's fine, babe. Just glad everything was okay," you said as you laid down behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She stiffened, but you chose not to chalk it up to anything. "You must be exhausted," you added.

"Yeah," she said quietly. A second passed and she added. "I love you, you know."

You chuckled once more and kissed the back of her shoulder. "I know."

You fell asleep again, but awoke sometime later to hear retching coming from the bathroom. You sat up and tossed the covers off, walking towards the sliver of light coming from underneath the bathroom door in the dark. You pushed open the door to see Jessie bent over the toilet, one hand bracing herself against it and the other holding back her hair as she heaved though nothing came out.

"Oh my gosh," you whispered as you rushed over and dropped down next to her, only now noticing the tears streaming down her face. You held back her hair for her and rubbed her back soothingly. She sobbed and coughed. "Jessie, oh my God. What's going on?"

She swallowed audibly as she tried to compose herself. She wiped hurriedly at her face.

"I'm just not feeling well," she said quickly, giving you a cursory glance as she tried to catch her breath.

"Is that all? You're crying," you said as you kissed the side of her head and handed her some toilet paper. She dabbed at her face as she shook her head.

"I'm fine. It's just from the dry heaving. My stomach's not feeling well," she insisted. She stared blankly forward before looking over at you, staring at you even. "I love you," she said again.

"I know, baby. I love you, too," you said with a soft smile as you kissed her head once more. She was pale and shaking. "I'll go get you some water," you said. You were about to rise when she grabbed your hands urgently, tugging you down.

"No," she said firmly, before clearing her throat and quieting. "I just - I don't want you to go. Can we just stay here for a sec?"

You frowned. She really must not be feeling well. Jessie could be very affectionate, but she wasn't clingy. You nodded readily, scooching closer to her and caressing her cheek.

"Of course, baby."

Your mind continued to reel as Jessie cried in your arms. She was distraught. Nearly hyperventilating. You'd never seen her like this. She was always so calm and even when she was upset, it was a quiet upset and often tightly controlled. Nothing like the woman who was sobbing in your embrace as you blankly stared at the wall.

During that time, something came over you. The initial anger and bewilderment took a backseat as the woman you loved clung to you for comfort.

When she eventually calmed, the weeks of emotional turmoil and lack of sleep caught up to her. When she forced herself to sit up, her eyes were puffy, bloodshot and they were heavy with exhaustion.

You tried to ask her a few questions and she did her best to respond, but she was visibly struggling in the haze of her breakdown. She looked like a shell of herself.

You found yourself speaking.

"We should go to bed."

It took a moment for your statement to register and she gave you the faintest look of question. You cleared your throat but held her gaze.

"You're exhausted. And, I don't even know what I'm thinking or feeling, so...," you trailed off, your gaze following suit. She started to protest, but you cut her off with quiet resolve. "Jess."

She stared at you, eyes darting across your face in apprehension.

"I'm terrified you're going to leave me," she said, her voice thin as her eyes welled up again.

Your heart raced, but you didn't waver. "I'm here," you told her evenly. "We have a lot more to talk about. But, maybe not tonight."

It felt like an out of body experience as you two retreated to the bedroom and got into bed. With the lights off, you lay stiffly on your back staring up at the ceiling. Out of the corner of your eye you could see her on her side watching you but too afraid to close the space between you.

Again, this understanding that she needed you somehow subdued all of your other impulses. You lifted your arm and wordlessly beckoned her. She hesitated for a second before rushing in and wrapping herself around you, her head on your shoulder. You held her in much the way she often held you.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice tight with emotion. "I promise I'll do everything I can to make this work. Whatever time you need - whatever you need - it's yours. I know we'll adjust," she expressed. "And Zoie - she's so sweet. And funny. And bright. You're going to love her, Y/N. And she's going to love you so much. I know it."

A lump immediately formed in your throat and your grip on her tightened. You hoped it just felt like a reassuring squeeze.

"Let's get some sleep," you managed to say.

You stared up at the darkened ceiling still in a state of delayed shock. It was only when Jessie's breathing gradually deepened and slowed as she fell asleep that you allowed silent tears to start flowing.

Your jaw ached as you ground your teeth together and you fretted as your chest hitched with a shaky breath; Jessie didn't stir.

You never would've anticipated this in a hundred years. You always felt Jessie would be a great, dedicated parent. You'd talked about it together at length. You'd imagined it many times.

You just always pictured that it would be your child - the one you and her had together. Not one she had with someone else.

This changed the entire landscape of your relationship. Your future together. Everything you envisioned was now wildly and forever changed.

It was no longer just you two. Jessie had a family now. But not with you.

Right or wrong, you wished she'd been cheating. Then you could've been righteously furious, upset, betrayed. And - in theory - it could be something you two could work to put in the past; to forgive, forget and move on. But this?

There was nothing temporary about this. It was permanent. Painfully permanent. She was a parent and forever would be. And this woman - someone who'd been a blip in a minor, negligible story of Jessie's past - was actually tied to her for the rest of her life and in so much more significant a way than you.

Suddenly, your world went from being focused and centered on you two and the future you'd build together, to now you being a bystander - an extra - in your own life.

Your throat seized up and you choked back a sob.

What was the rule book for this? You felt like your emotions and your wants needed to take a backseat. Much like this evening. Now you, your feelings, your needs, paled in comparison.

Jessie had a new role to step into. Something far more important than your girlfriend or fiancée. And that little girl's well-being and right to have a loving parent in her life trumped your hurt. Who were you to hold Jessie back from being an important and fulsome part of her child's life?

Her child. Her and some other woman's child.

It hurt to even think it.

Your mind spiraled throughout the night and your stomach twisted in knots over and over. While Jessie somehow slept straight through the night - maybe finally at peace to some degree after her confession - you could barely sleep a wink.

You were already awake by the time your morning alarm pierced your ears. Jessie jolted awake, but you remained stoic. The alarm continued to blare and you stared absently at the wall ignoring it. The bed shifted as Jessie reached over you to turn it off.

You laid still and unblinking even as you felt Jessie observing you as she sat back.

"Hi," she greeted softly, tentatively.

The impulse to reply was a mere flicker and the muscles in your throat twitched briefly before giving up.

She laid a hand gently on your arm, but didn't speak, surely uncertain of what to say. You heard her swallow as she absently caressed your arm.

"Are you going to work?" She asked quietly. You gave a feeble shake of your head. "Mm," she voiced and you saw a glimpse of her chin dropping towards her chest. "I understand. I missed practice the next day. And more, really, since I've been all over the place with various meetings, and yeah," she finished even quieter, belatedly realizing she'd said too much.

She never told you she missed practice. As far as you knew, she was at the facility training. As far as you knew, she was always where she said she was. Clearly that wasn't true.

You wordlessly lifted your inert form from the bed and willed your limbs to carry you to the bathroom. She remained still for a moment, but soon heard her rush after you. You shut the door firmly behind you and locked it with a deafening click before she reached it.

"I can stay home with you," she offered through the door. "I want to. I know we have a lot to talk about. And I want to be here for you."

"Go to practice, Jess," you told her dully before a flicker of anger rushed over you. "Or wherever the fuck you want to go."

You leaned against the wall, catching a glimpse of your reflection and immediately looking away, deeply unhappy with what you saw in the mirror.

"Babe, please," she implored. "Can we talk? I don't want to leave you."

Your anger flared once more, but you worked to temper it, your fingers digging painfully into your arms as you hugged yourself tightly. You sniffled.

"Have a good day, Jess. I'll see you later," you said with finality through the door as you opened the shower curtains and turned on the water.

"Babe," you heard her call through the door. Several moments passed before you her muffled voice filtered through one more time. "I'll miss you today. Please text or call me if you need anything. I'll be here in a flash."

You got undressed and stood outside the shower. The seconds passed as you remained there. The tension in your body continued to mount and you had red, angry divots in your skin from where your nails dug in. You waited. You wanted her to leave, just being around her hurt, but her actually leaving felt like some kind of unsettling confirmation.

Your stomach sank as heard nothing further from her and you stepped into the shower and cranked the heat.

It only took seconds for you to double over as tears came once more, except this time the scalding hot water washed them away.

You audibly sobbed, comforted to know that the sound of the shower would muffle your cries in case Jessie was listening in. The water burned, pellets bouncing off of your skin like sharp pinpricks, but it felt satisfying and good. It distracted you from everything going on inside of you right now.

You looked down and realized you still had your engagement ring on. You hadn't taken it off last night. A strangled noise escaped your mouth and you envisioned ripping off the ring, drawing back the curtains and throwing the ring across the room. The fingers of your opposite hand gripped the ring tightly, ready to pull, but eventually fell to your side.

She hadn't betrayed you. She'd given this ring to you, this promise, in good faith. She still loved you. She still wanted you. She didn't know this was coming.

Somehow it still hurt and you cried harder.

When you eventually exited the shower, your skin battered and abused, you got changed and collapsed onto the couch. You spent the better part of the day trying to distract yourself in front of the TV, but even in your catatonic state, you couldn't truly settle.

Jessie texted you a few times throughout the day saying how much she loved you, asking if there was anything she could do, that she missed you.

You never responded.

She came home early that day with your favourite take-out in hand and looking oh so sweet and hopeful as she offered it to you. You mustered up a flat 'thank you', but could manage to only eat a few forkfuls. Suddenly, Jessie's recent lack of appetite all made sense.

You talked further. You learned that her family knew, Sinc and Janine knew as well. It felt humiliating that you were so far down the list, though some deep-seated part of you understood her logic - that there was so much more to lose in telling you.

You learned she was already into conversations with lawyers about custody, child support, the list went on. At some point, her voice just became an echo in your head, your mind far too overwhelmed to properly process everything.

"I should stop talking," she eventually said gently as she watched you while you stared absently at the floor.

You sighed heavily and rubbed your eyes before dropping your hands into your lap. You sat motionless for a second before saying, "I don't even know, Jess. I have no idea what to say or do."

You heard her exhale. "I know, baby. I'm sorry." You didn't respond, but she leaned in and gave you a soft, tentative kiss on your temple. You still didn't react and she withdrew with another soft sigh, her hand lingering on your leg before pulling back altogether.

"I can sleep on the couch tonight," she offered.

This drew you out of your passiveness. You shot her a glare as your body tensed with irritation. Her brow furrowed in confusion and hurt at your visible scolding.

"What?" She asked, her own upset and frustration starting to show. "I-I don't know what you want or need. And I wish I knew. I wish you'd tell me, because all I want to do is to fix things and I don't know how right now," she beseeched.

You turned on her. "It's been one fucking day, Jessie. One day! You've had fucking weeks to process all of this and you got to control how you were going to handle it, when you were going to tell me, how - all of it. I have zero control," you seethed. "Not only do I have to wrap my head around you having a kid and how that changes everything for us, but you've also been lying to me and I still don't know everything. I don't know what to think or feel. So I'm sorry that you feel uncomfortable, but I need more than one fucking day to adjust."

Your outburst silenced her and she fidgeted slightly under your steely gaze.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I just...," she reset, looking at you now, "I just want to do whatever I can to make this as painless as possible."

You bit back a bitter laugh. You knew she meant well, but 'painless' was an impossibility.

"I don't know if you want me to go or to stay," she added vulnerably.

You took a shaky breath, feeling sorry for her again. "I know," you said and rubbed your face. You exhaled quietly. "I don't want you to go."

"Then I'm not going anywhere."

A/N: Tag request - @valuyhh

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #wlw angst #woso angst

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channiesbakery · 22 hours ago

Text

study session —

prompt / request — “go on, baby. ride my thigh.” + “people who’re just friends don’t do shit like this, and you know it.”

pairing — reader + college fwb!hoshi

word count — 617

genre — smut

when you and soonyoung were paired up for a project in one of your lectures, you never thought it’d lead to you becoming friends with benefits.

and you definitely didn’t think he was as needy as he is. soonyoung was never shy about letting you know how needy he was or how badly he needed you.

he never hesitated to tease you with filthy messages and photos during your lectures or to send you a “you up?” text at night. of course, you wanted him just as bad so you always responded.

but with midterms coming up, the two of you hadn’t been able to see each other. when soonyoung asked you to come over tonight, you told him you were busy studying and never got a response back.

twenty minutes later, he’s standing outside your apartment with his backpack and two coffees.

“i figured we could use some caffeine if we’re gonna be up all night studying. or you know, other activities,” soonyoung grins when you open the door.

“if you’re gonna stay over, then all we’re doing is studying,” you say, thanking him for the coffee before letting him set up his study materials in your living room.

surprisingly, you do get a lot of studying done. but your productive study session only lasts so long, until soonyoung decides that he’s done enough studying for the night, switching over to annoying you instead.

“i really need to finish this chapter,” you sigh when he moved to sit beside you. “you’ve done so much studying, baby. take a break,” he mumbles against your cheek.

“i can’t–” “you can. the exam’s not for another two weeks,” he argues, massaging your shoulders. “but i really need to–” he cuts you off again, taking your flash cards from your hands.

“i’ll quiz you on these. if you get most correct, you take a break. if not, i’ll help you study some more,” soonyoung says and you take the offer, letting him quiz you.

much to soonyoung’s delight, you get almost all the questions right. “okay but i really need to study the concepts for the ones i missed–” you start.

“nope. a deal’s a deal, baby. time for a break,” he pulls you to straddle his lap. “haven’t done this in weeks, i missed you,” he mumbled before kissing you.

as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you missed him too. you subconsciously start grinding against his lap as you lazily made out.

he shifts your position so you straddle his thigh. “c’mon, ride my thigh baby,” he mumbles against your lips.

soonyoung rests his hands on your hips as you grind against his thigh. “that’s it, good girl,” he praises.

you grip his shoulders, moving your hips faster as you try to find the right rhythm but you can’t. “soonie,” you whimper in his ear and he just chuckles.

“aw, poor baby needs my help?” he teases, his hold on your hips tightening. he guides your hips along his thigh as you whimper against his neck.

your thighs tremble around his as you reach your high. you relax against his chest as he loosens his grip on your hips, slowing you to a stop.

“so… i guess we should get back to studying?” soonyoung teases. “oh no. you’re gonna take me to my room and finish what you started,” you jab a finger against his chest.

“demanding and bossy. i like it.” he hums before kissing you. “and maybe i like you too,” he mumbles against your lips.

“careful there soonie, i thought we were just friends?” you tease, reminding him of your arrangement.

“people who’re just friends don’t do shit like this, and you know it.”

#hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung smut #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #channiesbakery drabbles

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jinxificada · 2 days ago

Text

regina george is so hot.

au!powder x reader

summary: she’s tired of bottling these tormenting desires, would you give her a hand?

notes: nsfw, modern au, 5,7k wc. loosely based on “naked in manhattan” by chappel roan. initially written abt jinx, but i decided to try with powder! um, i dunno why this is so damn long.. i hope it doesn’t suck, Don’t even ask me to proofread.

ཻུ۪۪ ༄࿐༉⁎ ⁺

“regina george is so hot.” you hear her voice on your side, making you pause mid chewing.

it was one of your usual sleepovers; popcorn, movies. you also steal cans of beer from her dad’s bar right below the apartment. a routine you’ve set since you were 15.

“yeah..?” you frown in confusion, glancing at her curiously and then back at the screen of her laptop.

“I mean, don’t you agree?”

she pauses the movie to look at you and raising eyebrow expectantly. she already knew what your answer was.. the only right answer.

“obviously,” you play along, sipping on the beer as you avoid her gaze. “it’s just the way you said it… as if you’re attracted to girls.”

as far as you know, powder was straight— you both were. you’ve seen her drool over boys, the walls of her room covered with posters of male artists (and scientists), she loves to flirt around with the male population, never once casting a second glance at a girl like that. hell, you were pretty sure she currently had a thing going on with ekko.

she rolls her eyes and shoves your shoulder like you said the most ridiculous thing, “I’m just pointing out the obvious!”

it was an obvious statement that everyone can agree with. you just don’t mistakenly say it with such a yearning tone.

as you sit together, she takes another look at you with the corner of her eye, a curious thought running through her mind, her heart beating faster… she tries her best to not let it show, but she can’t help to keep drifting her eyes off the movie to you.

she has a pretty girl drinking beer and watching a movie as they laid on her bed.

and she’s yearning.

what if? she thinks to herself, before hastily trying to shut the thought down.

after a few minutes, she takes a long swig of the beer, hoping it’ll help her forget that silly idea…

she tries to focus on the movie, but her mind is a growing mess. what if?... she looks over at you, taking in the way the light from the dimmed screen flashes over your face, enhancing your beauty.

what if i try?

no, she can’t. you’re friends. just friends.. you don’t cross lines like that. you can’t cross lines like that.

but.. it would be so easy to just reach out and… no, stop that.

powder tries her best to act normal, laughing and commenting on the movie with you, but that thought just won’t leave her mind.

curiosity just builds up more and more. her eyes keep roaming back to you, taking in every curve of your face, every move of your body, as my brain is fighting a battle against this sudden.. need to test the boundaries.

she shifts in the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. her heart is skipping beats as she tries to make it casual, like it’s nothing. her fingers keep rubbing the muscle of her thigh, pretending to be massaging a cramp until she built the courage to finally speak.

“my leg is cramping,” she grumbled while rubbing and massaging her leg. “mind lending me a hand?” she says, hoping that her comment would pass out as a joke so she can forget about this.

you eye her, scoffing a quiet chuckle. “are you serious?”

there it is, she should laugh it off and focus on the movie. she should keep whatever desire she’s feeling buried deep inside and set her mind on ekko, the boy everyone knows has the hots for her—

“please?” she pleads. “it hurts so bad.”

she keeps gently rubbing her leg, and with a subtle shift in her position her oversized shirt rides up, revealing more of her thigh as she angles it slightly towards you.

her stomach flutters when your eyes travel towards her exposed skin. you hesitate, taking in the way her muscle twitches slightly, your left hand finally moves and falls on her pale thigh, starting to knead and immediately looking back at the movie.

powder almost let out a sigh of relief as your hand finally touches her. she watched intently as your hand massages her thigh, working the muscle.

you were so agreeable, too, never having trouble to convince you to do whatever she wanted.

she wondered how far she could take it. how much are you willing to please her..?

she leans back against the headboard of the bed, her mind racing as she silently enjoys the sensations of your touch.. the heat of your hand against her skin, the way your fingers gently press into her leg. her body is responding to your touch in a way it never has before, and it’s taking everything in her to stay in control.

she shifts uncomfortably on the bed, unable to focus on the movie anymore.

but you kept your hand close to her knee.

“is that good?”

she almost let out a squeak as a shudder runs through you. the innocent way in which you ask that, as if you’re genuinely just trying to be helpful, is almost too much for her to handle right now.

she nods quickly, swallowing hard. “y-yeah that’s perfect.” her voice coming out just a tad huskier than before.

you turn to look at her, smiling as you squeeze her thigh. she’s got smooth skin, the faintest freckles on them. you liked that she was a little fit.

“you know… it feels even better a bit higher up.”

the words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself.

but you comply, moving ever so slightly. “there?”

she bites her lip to hold back a soft whine.

“a little higher.. please?”

her heart is racing in her chest as she asks, knowing full well where she’s leading this.

“mmkay,” you chuckle quietly, moving even higher. was it you, or did her skin feel more heated?

she lets out a shaky exhale as your hand moves higher, almost to the top of her thigh. her muscles tense slightly as your finger brushes against the hem of her small tight shorts underneath her shirt.

“h-higher.” she breathes heavily, her body is buzzing with the heat rushing through her. she’s pushing it.

you hesitate briefly, complying anyway. your fingers slowly reaching her inner thighs…

you couldn’t be crazy. she felt so warm, a burning heat coming from between her legs. it was making you feel weird in your stomach.

her breath hitches at the feeling of your fingers on her sensitive skin, the buzzing in her body almost becoming overwhelming. her brain is foggy with this new sensation, the want and need to feel your touch all over her.

she shifts slightly, spreading her legs a bit wider. “like that…”

her hands grip the bed sheets tightly, silently praying you would keep going, to touch her more.

“don’t stop.” she pleads as she feels your fingers slowly tracing the top of her shorts.

“pow…” you mumble in a warning tone. you lick your lips, feeling your mouth dry.

but she’s got so far, you can’t deny her now. please don’t deny her now.

she leans forward, resting a hand on your knee. “please.” she practically whispers, all pretense of a thigh cramp gone. “i need it… i need you.”

an unknown sound leaves your mouth against your will, something like a whimper. you can’t meet her eyes as you move your hand higher, shyly sneaking under her shorts.

she shivers as your hand finally reaches where she wanted it, having to bite her lip again to keep any embarrassing sounds at bay.

“f-fuck.” she breathes, her body going rigid as your eyes meet again. all the tension, the desire.. you can see it all in the look she’s giving you.

it’s almost too much. why do you want to moan if it’s her the one being touched? you cover your face with your free hand, trying to hide how flustered you were.

you keep exploring between her legs. the almost all-consuming warmth, magnetically luring you.

she tries to suppress a moan at the feel of your hand, covering her mouth with her own hand as the other grips at the bed sheets tightly.

“fuck..“ she curses again, her hips rocking against the touch. she’s losing all willpower to stop this now, and she can’t bring herself to care.

you touch her a bit more, flinching when you feel her arousal, pulling your hand away. “w-wait, wait.” you whimper, breathing heavily as you keep avoiding her gaze. you felt overwhelmed, flustered and confused.

and incredibly horny.

powder whined at the loss of contact, desperate for you to put your hand back but also a bit concerned with the look on your face.

she leans into you and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “what’s wrong?” she asked, her own voice shaky.

“i-i don’t know what i’m doing—“ your lower lip trembled, the heat on your face making you feel even more embarrassed. “sorry, i’m sorry..”

she takes your face in her hands, making you look at her.

“hey.. it’s okay.” powder murmurs softly, soothing you. “don’t worry about it, alright?”

she tries to hide the disappointment from her voice, but neither of you can deny that the feeling of your hands on her was electrifying. tantalizing the vulnerable boundaries of your friendship and sexuality.

“let’s just... let’s just watch the movie, okay?”

you lean into her, hiding in the crook of her neck as you grasp her shirt, powder has her arms wrapped around you in a heartbeat, holding you against her.

“you’re okay.“ she whispers, trying her best to soothe you and ignore the fact she’s painfully aroused right now.

“i’m sorry…” you mumble again, now conscious of her real needs. you wanted to please her, you actually did. you were just so overwhelmed in the moment, the sudden wetness that pooled in your core scared you.

she leans back against the headboard of the bed, with you in her arms. she smelled so good, you didn’t wanna leave this spot.

“…let me try again.” you whisper shyly, now your right hand teasing the edge of her shorts.

powder sucks in a sharp breath as your hand moves back to the edge of her shorts, her body going rigid.

“are you sure? “ she asks hesitantly, still wary of your reaction, and unsure if she could handle the disappointment of you stopping again.

“mmhm,” you nod into her neck, grateful that she can’t see your furious blush. your hand goes back under her clothes, letting out a shaky breath when you feel her pussy with your fingers again.

powder bites her lip to hold back a moan, her head falling back against the headboard, fighting her body to keep her hips from rocking against your palm. she grabs your shirt, fisting the fabric tightly in your hand as she concentrates on her breathing.

“w-wait..” she gasps, trying to speak coherent words as her brain is getting foggy by the pleasure building inside her.

“w-what?” you quickly slip away again, worried that you might have done something wrong, but she reached out, taking your hand in hers and bringing it back to her shorts, guiding you where she wanted you.

“no…” she says, and this time despite her own voice betraying her, she tries to sound more reassuring. “i just… i just need you to keep going.. faster.”

“like this?” you murmur, hesitantly rubbing in circles.

she lets out an unashamed moan as your finger teases her clit, her hand gripping your shoulder as if trying to ground herself.

“y-yeah.. just like that.” her praise is a faint sigh, closing her eyes as the pleasure you’re providing her is the only thing occupying her mind.

you moan too, you can’t help it, your sounds quiet and muffled. she felt so hot, she sounded so hot. you were growing agitated, relishing in the ravenous way she moved her hips into you.

she’s almost shaking now, her body desperately wanting more, wanting release. her breathing is labored as she tries to speak.

“m-more, hm..please.” she manages to gasp out, letting her hand fall from your shoulder to grip the sheets once more.

you obey, paying close attention to which movements made her twitch and moan the most.

powder’s torn between keeping her mouth shut, in a desperate attempt to hold back all the needy moans and whines that threaten to spill from her mouth, and cry out loud, to let the neighbors know how good you’re making her feel.

she struggles to keep her body under control, but your every touch feels like she’s on fire, a ticking bomb waiting to explode. and she doesn’t want anything more than to just give into the pleasure.

her body writhing from your voracious stimulation, she’s not even trying to hold back anymore. she clutches at your arm as your touch grows confident, fingers spreading her folds, reaching her tight entrance to gather her fluids and go back to furiously rub her clit, learning that it was what made her react the most.

she was so close, so close... just a little more, and she’s almost there. powder pressed her hand against her mouth again, trying to stifle a deep moan coming from the back of her throat.

“jinx…” you whine quietly, your hand getting drenched in her juices as you work on her pussy. “‘wanna hear you…”

she instantly removes her hand from her mouth, her eyes closed and her mind so overwhelmed from the pleasure and her impending orgasm that she’s not even really aware of what’s happening anymore, her whole focus fixed on you, and the pleasure you’re giving her.

“s-so close—!“ she gasps.

you can’t stop yourself from squeezing your thighs together as she’s making little whines and whimpers in the back of my throat that sound completely needy at this point, aching for release.

“please,” she begged breathlessly. “i’m almost.. i’m so close, i just need a little more…”

her fingers dig into your arm, and you’re pretty sure if she squeezes any tighter her nails would draw blood.

the whine leaving her mouth ringed in your ear, the tension starting to peak. her thighs squeezes your hand, and to your surprise, she got more wet. her creamy orgasm moistened your palm, her body shocking sharply, scaring you for a second. but she doesn’t let you pull back, so you keep touching her as she rides her high.

just after a whole minute she stops trembling that much.

she keeps her eyes closed, her body still trembling ever so slightly. she feels boneless, like all her energy just left her body.

after a few seconds, she managed to blink her eyes open and find your worried gaze.

powder lets out a shaky exhale, and her hand moves from your arm to your cheek.

“i’m okay…“ she assures you, her voice sounding hoarse. she keeps her hand against your cheek, and she’s struck by the way you’re looking at her, your face still flushed with color.

“fuck, jinx…” you mumble with a frown, leaning into her hand. you can barely meet her eyes without getting even more flustered. your hand is still inside her shorts.

she chuckled softly, still feeling the afterglow from her orgasm.

“you can take your hand away now…” she murmured, her thumb stroking your cheek.

you flush in embarrassment, quickly shifting away. you look down at your hand, completely drenched in her fluids, her eyes follow your gaze, taking a moment to collect herself and then sit up, bringing a hand to your chin to turn you face her.

“hey..” she says softly, her voice still a tad shaky. “you okay?”

“gotta clean up,” you blurted, rushing to the bathroom in an attempt to escape the awkwardness that filled your body.

what the hell just happened…?

she watches as you dart away, feeling her stomach drop nervously, she took a deep breath and tried to clear her head, suddenly realizing the mess that is still between her thighs.

powder gets up and grabs a towel from a nearby chair, using it to clean herself off before throwing it in the laundry basket.

she considers following you to the bathroom, but she’s not sure if she should. you needed a minute to yourself, and she was worried about making things awkward.

more than it already was.

she sits back down on the bed, still a little shaken from what just happened. you both knew your friendship would never be the same after tonight.

you liked to believe otherwise. desperately. it was probably the heat of the moment, she was horny and you were there, so you gave her a hand. that was it.

though the wetness between your legs said that you were indeed affected by this.

you tried to ignore it.

you get out of the bathroom and make your way back next to her in the bed, not sparing her a glance as you fix the computer where it was and go back the minutes you missed from the movie.

powder can’t help the way her heart twinges a little as you keep your distance and don’t even look at her. it hurts more than she’d like to admit. she’s starting to think that maybe, maybe she did read this whole situation wrong.

so she keeps quiet, unsure of what to say now that you’re back. she can’t even pretend to focus on the movie, her thoughts whirling in her head.

her eyes keep stealing glances at you, searching your face for any clue as to how you feel. she’s trying to find some hint of that flush on your cheeks, something to give her some hope that what you did affected you just as much as it did to her.

the only hint she gets is the way your thighs are pressed so tightly together that it's almost like you're trying to hold back any evidence of what just happened.

you sit there in the quiet of the room, the only sound being the movie playing on the computer. she’s growing antsy, desperate to know if this changed your friendship or not.

finally, her impatience wins over and she can’t sit quietly anymore. she breaks the silence, her voice uncharacteristically small.

“are we not going to talk about it?”

you frown instantly, distractedly taking some popcorn.

“if you want,” you say, trying so hard to feign nonchalance.

you hear powder sigh a bit too loudly, she’s taken back by your response. she tries not to let it bother her as she gathered her thoughts.

“i just…” she begins, hesitating a little. “i just wanted to know if…” she trails off, not sure how to ask her next question. she bites her lip, trying to summon the courage to just spit it out. “were you.. okay with.. what we did?” she finally managed to ask, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. she was trying to keep her voice even, but it was obvious she was a little nervous about your answer.

your thighs clenched again, letting out a shaky breath.

“y-yeah, sure. i just.. helped you out.” you try to dismiss again, ignoring your own blush and arousal.

“just helped out?” she echoed, a little bitterly.

she bites her lip, unable to keep the pang of disappointment from her heart.

she wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t this nonchalant attitude. she forced herself to continue, trying to keep the emotion from her voice.

“so you didn’t.. enjoy it at all?”

you look at her, wide eyed. “w-we’re not like that, jinx.” you reminded her, scared of your own reactions, you… feelings. “i dunno…”

she feels something inside her twist in an unpleasant way, and she fights to control her face and keep the disappointment buried deep inside her.

“you’re right.. we’re just friends...” I murmur as realization sets in that you really didn’t see anything more about what you did.

she forces herself to look away, staring back at the movie screen so you don’t see the emotions in her face.

but she’s your friend, of course you’d notice.

you don’t like seeing her like that, instantly urging you to comfort her. you cuddle her side, pouting softly as you wrap your arms around her waist. it felt right.

her breath hitches in her throat when she feels your arms wrapping around her. she leaned into your body instinctively, her head falling on your shoulder.

It feels like you’re offering some comfort, some kindness, after the rejection she’s feeling.

“friend’s help each other out.” she murmured half jokingly under her breath, sounding a bit self-deprecating.

you repeat her words in your mind, growing more and more conscious of the burning feeling in my core.

maybe…

you nuzzle into her neck for a moment, before daring to speak. “c-could you help me?”

she’s completely caught off guard by your words, her eyes widening a little as she looks at you. your words had so much implication behind them.

“hel you..?” she asks slowly, trying to get you to clarify. a part of her didn’t want to get her hopes up in case she was misinterpreting it.

you’re quick to specify, taking her left hand to press it over your pants, almost naturally rocking your hips enthusiastically. she’s sure she has never seen you so… demanding.

“it’s aching…” you whimper softly, “you made me feel like this…”

she sucks in a breath as she feels the heat coming from your core. she lets her hand linger on your shorts as her eyes roam your face.

“i did..?” she says, surprise coloring my voice. she’s surprised that this effect you were having on her was mutual. “but I thought we’re just friends?” you noticed the faintest smirk tugging at her lips, naturally teasing you.

though powder almost doesn’t believe what’s happening right now. she keeps her hand between your legs, moving a little closer to you, her eyes fixed on your face.

“so you like it when i touch you like this?” she asks in a voice laced with both surprise and just a hint of smugness.

you’re instantly crumbling, nodding fervently as you hide in her neck again, breathing heavily.

“hurry…”

powder slowly drags her hand up your shorts, her fingers playing with the elastic of your underwear, and she takes a moment to revel in the way your breath stutters out, your body shifting restlessly against her.

“hurry..?” she mocked, “are you… impatient?”

“n-no, please don’t tease me jinx.” i begged, grasping onto her shirt. “i helped you out, please.”

she chuckled softly at your adorable begging. “‘can’t help it, you’re just too cute when you’re horny.” she tells you, before giving in to your pleading.

her hand moves further into your shorts, her fingers slowly rubbing against the throbbing button in your panties and drawing out a shaky gasp from you.

“like this, is this what you need?” she murmured, her tone still just a little titillating, but her words were sincere.

“you know it is,” you pouted, buckling your hips into her touch.

“mhmm,” she hummed, pleased to know she’s teased you enough to break you. she keeps her touch light, her fingertips circling teasing you without doing enough to actually give you any real relief.

“you’re already so worked up...” she remarks, feeling the wetness that’s already leaking into your underwear. “i didn’t even do that much to you.” she teases again, enjoying the way you gasp and writhe against her.

she brushes her lips against your neck, nipping and kissing on the sensitive skin. “you’re such a mess…” she murmured against your skin.

you grunted, moving your hand to grip her hair. “please—“ you breathed out into her jaw.

she hears the pleading in your voice, mixed in with just a hint of annoyance, and she can’t help the way her stomach twists with arousal at the sound.

“alright, i won’t tease anymore” she soothes, her fingers moving a little firmer against you, searching for a way to give you what you need.

you whine softly, your back arching into her, you were a tangled mess, her laptop once again sliding to the side as you kept shifting in the bed. you felt her breath against your cheek…

you kinda wanted to kiss her.

she lets her eyes roam over your face, taking in your flushed skin and your parted lips. powder was having a hard time concentrating with you so close, just like you, your every thought circling back to the fact that you wanted to kiss her.

“you’re so pretty.” she murmured absentmindedly, her fingers rubbing a little harder, deciding that she also wanted more, she slipped her hand underneath your panties, caressing your cunt shamelessly and pushing two fingers inside you at once, bringing out a guttural moan from you.

your eyes flickering from her lips to her blue hooded gaze. your chin tilted up without you realizing, feeling dizzy.

she noticed your eyes lingering on her lips, and her breath stuttered for a moment in her chest, feeling her own desire welling up.

she knows she probably shouldn’t kiss you, that it would change everything. but you’re right there, your parted lips so close to hers, and she finds she doesn’t have the self control to stop herself any longer. if she ever had it at all.

her fingers pause agonizingly inside you, as she leaned her head in and closed the distance, pressing her lips against yours before you could let out the irritated cry of complaint.

it’s short, sweet. you kissed her back before pulling away, shyly meeting her eyes for a second.

she pulls back a moment after you, feeling dazed from the short lived kiss. she keeps her eyes trained on you as she tries to regain her bearings a little.

“you didn’t seem to mind that very much.” she commented a little breathlessly, a small smile forming on her lips as she takes in your flushed expression.

you can only frown, tugging at her hair to pull her down again, kissing her deliberately, making her gasp a little in surprise her hair getting tugged harder by your grip as your lips press against hers. she has a moment to react before her mind melts away, and she just leans into you in a more heated kiss.

with her hand still between your thighs, the rest of her body follows as she settles on top of you, her other hand keeping itself propped up in the bed.

the kiss turns just a little more desperate, her tongue seeking out your mouth as it becomes harder to concentrate, but she finds she doesn’t particularly mind.

it gets messier, your dizziness making it hard for tou to follow her pace, her tongue and yours clashing everywhere. you moaned into her lips, grinding your hips against her hand. you felt little tears pricking in the corner of your eyes from the building pleasure.

she moaned with you, her hand moving a little more urgently against you, pounding her fingers mercilessly. and if it weren’t for the way she’s propped up on top of you, she would have probably started to grind against you a little herself.

you have to pull back from the kiss, a growling sound escaping from your throat as your back arches to press into her chest. she was hitting your sweet spot with an unrelenting pace.

she watches in awe as you curled into her hand, her mouth almost going dry at the sight of your face so overcome with pleasure. her breathing is labored as she tries to keep her hand in the most steady pace, her eyes never leaving your face.

“right there?” she asks urgently, her tone almost a little desperate for you to answer.

“yes” you sobbed, tears streaming down your reddened warm cheeks. “feels so good, hm— i can’t..” you blabbered.

her need to make you feel good, to give you the release you’ve been seeking takes over all my thoughts, powder is utterly fascinated by you, and she’s consumed in the urge to make you fall apart.

her fingers continued their assault on your abused pussy, pushing you to delirium. you never thought powder could be so talented with her hand, if your mind was clearer you would’ve questioned how did she know where and how to push the right buttons. her thumb moved to play with your unattended clit as her face leaned close to your ear.

“don’t cry.” she urged, her voice low and gravelly. “i’m going to take care of you, okay? i’m going to make you feel so good. just tell me you’re mine.”

it felt so good hearing that, just as much as it confused you. “w-what?”

in reality, her own words had surprised her, powder felt herself faltering for a moment. she didn't mean to say that, but with you so vulnerable and desperate beneath her, it just came out.

“just—“ she begins, attempting a confident voice. “just tell me you’re mine right now. that’s all i need.”

you comply without thinking much, her words making you impossibly wetter.

“m’yours.” you whimpered, “i’m yours, jinx, only yours.”

powder shivers a little at your words as a possessive feeling seizes her heart, making her want to pull you even closer and never let go.

“good.” she murmurs, as she returns her body against yours, her head nuzzling into your neck. she continues her touch, fucking you at a frantic, almost animalistic pace, the wet sounds of your cunt lasciviously echoing in her room. “now be a good girl and come for me”

she doesn’t have to tell you twice, reaching your peak effortlessly under her touch. you can’t say you really tried to control your body, feeling possessed by something else, something bigger than you. powder doesn’t stop her movements until you’ve ridden out the aftershocks and your body relaxes, a sense of pride welling up in her chest at seeing you come apart so easily for her.

she buries her head into your shoulder, taking a couple more deep breaths to slow her thoughts. she’d be lying to herself if she said this didn’t mean more to her than just two friends helping each other out.

so she rather don’t say anything for a moment, just listening to the sound of your breathing as your body comes down from the high. she let some of the possessive feelings wash away, settling on just enjoying the contentment of staying so close to you.

you feel more calm, but you were craving something. tugging at her hair again gently, you pull her face close to yours.

her eyes lift her head to look at you. her heart stutters seeing you looking so flushed, your hair messy around your head.

“what is it?” she asked softly, resting her chin on your chest.

“kiss,” you mumble so quietly that you barely hear yourself.

a flicker of surprise briefly passes through her mind as she registers your words, her chest almost clenching at the soft and almost shy tone of your request.

her blue eyes search your face for a moment before her gaze lands on your lips. she moved into them without another word, pressing her lips softly against yours.

she parts her lips against yours, taking a moment to relish in the sweet feeling of your mouth against hers. she gently slides her tongue into your mouth, savoring you in a different way than she did before. her hand moving up from your shorts to caress your neck.

but you pull back reluctantly, taking her wrist in your hand.

“dirty fingers.” you point out.

she lets out a sheepish chuckle, her cheeks flushing as she realized her dirty fingers had just touched your skin. “you’re right...” she murmurs, holding up her hand a little bit to look at the evidence staining her fingers.

she brings her messy fingers to her mouth and starts to lick them clean, maintaining eye contact with you as she watches your reaction.

oh my god…

your eyes widened, your darkened gaze fixed on the way she tasted you so greedily, an intense blush creeps on your cheeks as she hollowed hers, humming in delight.

a satisfied smile appeared on her lips as she saw the color on your face and felt the way your breath stutters as you watch her suck her fingers clean.

“you taste so good.” she praised, loving the way her words make you squirm a little underneath her.

“what is it?” she asks, amused at your pouty expression. she shifts her weight a little so she’s leaning on her forearms, hovering above you. she takes a moment to admire the sight of you splayed beneath her, disheveled and breathless from her touch.

you let her now bring her hand up to caress your flushed cheek, her eyes roaming between your face and that pouty mouth of yours. “tell me what you’re thinking,” she whispered, though her voice still sounded a little rougher than usual. “you’re not… not regretting what we just did again, right?”

“n-no, no, i don’t regret it.” you rushed to say, stumbling over your words. you can’t stand the way her mouth pouted at you, anticipating the worst. “that’s.. sort of the problem, pow… i, um—”

“the problem?” she interrupted, *almost* scowling.

“i mean, not the problem,” you tried to correct yourself. “this is just, um, new.”

ah.

she almost sighs in relief as you explain yourself, her shoulders relaxing. powder lets her body rest more heavily on top of you, her head dipping down so she could rest her chin on your shoulder without having to prop herself up with her arms.

“new and good?” she inquires quietly against your ear, needing to hear the answer to quell her nervousness.

you slowly move your arms to embrace her as she keeps her head nestled in the crook of your neck, cuddling warmly. you’re suddenly consumed with the desire to breathe in the scent of her hair.

“you need time to process things?” she suggested in a murmur into your skin, closing her eyes and just relishing in your closeness for the moment.

“yes,” you quavered, appreciating her understanding. your grip tightened, giving in to your desires as your nose pressed into her soft blue hair. “but don’t leave.”

#jinx x reader #lesbian #jinx #jinx arcane #jinx x fem!reader #arcane #jinx smut #jinx x reader smut #arcane jinx #jinx x y/n #jinx x you #jinx league of legends #jinx lol #jinx fanfic #powder #powder arcane #arcane powder #au powder #powder x reader

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ell6ied · 2 days ago

Text

heartbreak summer ꨄ︎

pairing: sae itoshi x f!reader

summary: after your friend finds out her recent ex has been in the news tabloids with yet another girl, your idea of get back turns your night into an unfortunate series of events with the outcome landing you directly in front of re al’s star player, and you’re about to kiss him.

cw: nsfw elements, swearing, toxic relationships & behaviour (not too much from sae surprisingly), angst

chapter 02: blackout

you have no idea how it happened. for a moment you was searching for kaia, who had mysteriously disappeared after oliver aiku spotted her in the club, dragging her away. and the next moment, your hands were in some man’s hair, was it auburn? brunette? your face itching closer and closer to his as he held the side of your face with one hand, and the other on your hip, dangerously itching somewhere you know shouldn’t be.

god, your head was fuzzy.

you remember gripping onto his shirt a little, trying to balance yourself, the thought of drinking so much being a bad idea lingering in your head for a moment. you looked up at him, those eyes are gorgeous, this man is beautiful.

and just like that, your lips were on his, his hands a little firmer as he held you in place as he kissed you, noticing your lack of balance. you couldn’t help but tug his hair slightly as he ran his tongue on the bottom of you lip, causing him to let out a quiet, but deep breath, smirking down at you. he then pulled away for a second, catching the breath you just took from him as he rested his hand between the nape of your neck.

“do you want to come back to mine, amor?”, he speaks in a soft, velvety tone, his head tilted slightly.

you pause, frowning, “ew no..”, causing his brows to raise slightly and the corners of his mouth daring to twitch into a soft smile.

6:48 am

the feeling of your head throbbing and the scratchiness of your throat causes your eyes to squint while your brain finally registers the brightness coming through the blinds, “what the fuck..”

you move your arms, sitting yourself up slightly on your bed, looking around to see your still in the clothes from the night before, with the feeling of makeup still on your skin and wait, is that-

“what the fuck?!”, you half yell, seeing a shirtless man sleeping way too peacefully in your own bed.

“huh?”, he frowns, his eyes half open now, squinting to look at you, “oh, g’morning.”

morning?!?

“why are you in my bed..?”, you ask, confused.

“i came home with you.”, he says. bit creepy.

“we didn’t- did we?”, you ask in pure confusion again. your clothes were on, but here was some random shirtless man in your bed, you couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d be here.

“no, we just slept.”, he makes himself comfortable on your bed, looking at you as he answers.

“right… okay.”, you pause, trying to comprehend what even happened last night.

“well, if you just wanna… grab that.. and like, leave?”, you say, your eyes roaming your room before bending down and grabbing his shirt, throwing it at him.

he looks down as you throw his shift, looking back up at you, his eyes weirdly innocent, “oh you want me to go?”

obviously?, “um.. yes.”

he pauses for a moment, as if he was contemplating something, tilting his head at you, it was cute actually.

“why?”

you frown at him, baffled by his pure obliviousness or whether he was just being difficult.

“i don’t want you here anymore, i have roommates.”

“oh, okay.”, he says like he finally understands, “do you want my-“

you cut him off quickly, “no!”, you pause, “um.. no thanks, we don’t need to do that.”

“damn, okay.”, he says, finally putting his shirt back on, getting up from her bed and grabbing his phone.

“you know where the door is?”

“yeah, i know.”, he states, walking past you before giving you a final look, leaving your vision as you hear the front door open then close.

you sigh loudly, rubbing your forehead before walking over to the mirror of your vanity, looking at yourself, “oh yikes.”

the next day

navigation: heartbreak summer

next chapter: 03

authors note: thank you sm for everyone reading 🫶🏻 i genuinely love writing this story & there’s abt to be sm dramaaa 🤭 sae is so awkward in this im giggling 😭

taglist: @vaelils @shironagi

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schlattsdarling · 10 hours ago

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very deprived words incoming but I’ve made every one of my bfs cum their pants various times and I feel like schlatty would be sooooo easy to make that happen. like imagine ur at dinner and you start teasing him about his last night he just edged you so to get revenge you try to make him cum his pants in (semi)public 😈

anon anon anon… you little devil 😈

The lighting is soft, the mood is light and you can hear the hum of the soft jazz music playing in the background. Schlatt’s to your right, and his family is surrounding the two of you. Not interested in the current conversation going on, you divert your gaze to your boyfriend; hair soft and fluffy, loose curls falling gently over his eyes, rare scent of cologne floating gently in the air around him.

”Jay, Jay, Jayyyy” you whine. Fingernails leaving dangerous red marks across his back, you’re biting down on his shoulder to stay quiet as he pounds into you like his life depends on it.

“Close pretty girl?” he murmurs into your ear as you profusely nod against his neck. Before you even have time to process what he’s doing, Jay bottoms out inside you then pulls out.

“I haven’t came yet Jay” you complain pulling him back towards you. “Not tonight, too tired” he shrugs, smirking as he stands up.

“You look good tonight” you whisper, as you lean over to Schlatt smirking. His brow raises, “Yeah?”. You nod smiling, hand trailing up and down his thigh. He shoots a warning look over to you, eyes narrowing, as you grin innocently up at him. Tracing gentle patterns along his leg beneath the tablecloth, your thumb grazes the growing bulge in his pants and you can't help but smirk to as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to get you to stop.

“Don’t act like you don’t want this” you mutter just loud enough for him to hear.

“Well not fucking here” he hisses, a faint smirk echoed on his face.

You relentless teasing had Jay squirming in his seat causing his mother to express her concern, “Everything alright?” “Oh yeah um, just don’t feel great”. You flutter your at him putting on a pout, “Oh my poor boy” you coo as your hand moves rhythmically under the table. Schlatt screws his eyes shut a hand gripping your wrist and the other holding his head as he leans gently on the table. He bites his lip not letting any whimpers out as he breathes out a shaky breath.

Your eyes dart down to his trousers, a quite noticeable wet patch on his crotch area appears as you move your hand away from him. You think there’s a permanent smirk etched onto your face now; Jay tilts his head to look at you, remains of amusement but if looks could kill you’d be long gone. He’s going to ruin you tonight.

#jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt #schlatt x reader #jschlatt smut #schlatt smut

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chleem · 1 day ago

Note

not sure if you take requests! I just looove angst

could you write where reader really gets scared because of Drew? Maybe violence or drinking or he has a moment where his temper gets the better of him and he scares her. thinking about him comforting his teary girl 🥰

Also I adore your writing — just read all of your series & one shots and fell in love!

⋆.˚ Warnings: swearing, jealous bf!drew, assault, physical (w/stranger) + verbal fight (with reader), read at own caution

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: and yes, I do accept requests but its not promised i write it tho T_T also, thanks for checking out my other works! (ure my first request btw thx sm

hope this one lives up to your expectations, written just for u my babe <3

word count: 2.5k

──── 𝜗𝜚 ─────

You and Drew had been out for a casual night, just the two of you, trying to get away from the stresses of everyday life.

The dim lights, the clinking of glasses, the smell of whiskey and perfume—it was the perfect backdrop for a little escape.

You weren’t the type to go out clubbing, preferring to stay home. But seeing the gloomy state Drew has been in all day, this might just be the thing he needs.

The bar was busy, but you managed to secure a spot, both ordering your own drinks.

He’d been drinking fast, between casual conversations, you could slowly see the consciousness slipping away, replaced with his lazy, a bit drunk self.

“I gotta go to the bathroom real quick, alright?”

Drew almost yells into your ear, his voice barely audible over the thumping music in the bar.

You nod, yet was a bit worried whether he could even see in front of him. Drew’s hand lingers on your waist to give it a quick, almost stiff pat before he pulls away.

The warmth of him disappears as he blends into the crowd of sweaty, wasted bodies, leaving you standing there alone, suddenly acutely aware of how unfamiliar the space feels without him beside you.

The music pulses in your chest, but it’s no longer comforting—it feels loud, invasive, almost too much.

You’re reminded of why you hate clubs- or going out in general, because of the overwhelming energy it takes out of you.

You shift on your feet, suddenly nervous in a way you weren’t before. Without him here, everything feels just a little too close.

And then, a hand brushes around your waist.

He’s back.

But when you turn around, your smile falters.

It’s not him.

A stranger, grinning a little too widely, leans in close, his hand still secured around your waist.

You step back instinctively, trying to create space between you and this guy.

“Little lady, how ‘bout I buy you a drink?” He coos, signaling the bartender over. He’s got a nasty grin on his face, one that sends goosebumps all over you.

“No- no thanks,” you immediately decline, glancing behind you for any signs of Drew.

What’s taking him so long?

“Oh c’mon, Daddy’s treat,” his voice drips low, and he steps close to you again.

And when his hand grips your ass through your dress, you immediately let out scream, but it's’ drowned out by the busy bar.

“Okay- um, I have a boyfriend,” you say, your voice trembling slightly, but you manage to shove his hand off your waist. It’s sharp, harsh, and you feel your pulse racing, your body tense with a mix of disgust and fear.

But he’s persistent. The smirk on his face widens even more, and you see the way his eyes flicker with annoyance at your rejection.

“What? So? That doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun,” he grins, his breath hitting your face, smelling of rotten eggs, “I’m just trying to show you a good time, sweetheart.”

Your skin crawls.

Panic spikes in your chest. Where the hell is Drew?

But just as the stranger’s hand moves to touch you again, someone else beats him to it.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, pulling you back with a firm grip, until your back hits the solid wall of Drew’s chest. The familiar warmth of him floods through you, that unmistakable scent of his cologne, mixed with the hint of whiskey.

For a second, you’re wrapped in his presence, the rush of his body against yours almost as much of a relief as it is a comfort.

It’s the feeling of being protected—that primal, safe feeling you always get when Drew’s near, and yet, there’s something else, too. Something more possessive in the way he’s holding you now.

“Made a new friend already?”

He chuckles lowly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

The stranger hesitates for a moment, clearly thrown off by Drew’s sudden appearance, but his cocky grin doesn’t fade. Instead, he sizes Drew up, eyes darting to all aspects of him.

Drew doesn’t flinch, but you can feel a shift in the air. His easy-going tone doesn’t match his body language.

And the protective hold he has on you right now feels like a silent warning to the stranger.

You steal a glance over at Drew, and the look in his eyes sends a chill down your spine. There’s something colder in them now, but it’s not directed at you—it’s all focused on the guy standing in front of you.

“You the boyfriend?” he asks, voice dripping with mockery.

Drew clenches his jaw, his lips twitching into a smile. “…and you…?”

“-gonna pound on your girl’s pussy in ways you can’t.”

The sudden comment causes your chest to tighten.

The room feels like it’s slowing down. You freeze, and for the first time, you can’t even hear the music—only the rush of your own heartbeat in your ears.

The arm around your shoulders tightens.

For a long beat, Drew stays silent, his face a mask of cold anger. His jaw is clenched, the veins in his neck throbbing as he locks eyes with the stranger.

“What, what did just you say?” His voice is low—dangerously low—and it doesn’t sound like the Drew you know.

“I said,” the stranger sneers, “gonna pound on that pussy-“

Then, in the blink of an eye, everything shifts.

Drew steps forward, closing the space between him and the guy in one swift motion.

The arm around your shoulders drops as Drew pulls away from you, shoving the stranger. The force of the push sends the guy stumbling backward, his feet losing their balance for a split second, but he catches himself on the edge of the bar.

You watch in stunned silence, your breath caught in your throat.

You’ve never seen Drew like this, starting a fight- or in anything violent. The way his body shifts, tense and predatory, it’s as if a switch flipped inside him, and you’re suddenly faced with a side of him that feels… unfamiliar.

The stranger mumbles something under his breath, his face twisted in surprise, and he pushes back, hands flying out in a flurry of anger.

Drew stumbles, but not as hard as the stranger did.

You raise a shaky hand toward him, fingers trembling. Your stomach twists in panic, but you have to do something—anything—to stop this from escalating further.

You try to call out, but your voice feels small against the sudden weight of the room. “Drew? Drew, stop-“

The words barely leave your mouth before the eyes of everyone in the bar land on the two of you. You feel the heat of their stares, the whispers circulating, but right now, you can’t focus on anyone else but him.

Drew however, focuses on the stranger in front of him.

And before you could react, before anyone could react, his fist flies out, connecting with the stranger’s face with a loud thud. The man falls back, eyes wide with shock, a trickle of blood running from his lip.

The bar area of the club avert their attention to the fight that’s currently breaking out, their own conversations long forgotten.

The stranger, dazed for a moment, recovers quickly and tries to throw a punch in return, but Drew is already steps ahead. He dodges effortlessly, before punching him again. And again. And again.

You watch, wide-eyed, as Drew’s movements are smooth and precise.

There’s no hesitation, no question of whether he’ll fight back. It’s like the anger just poured out of him in an instant, and you have no idea how to stop it.

You want to shout, to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your chest. You don’t recognize him like this. Drew’s usually calm, collected... but here, right now, he looks completely different.

Two security guards burst through the bar door, rushing toward the scene. One of them grabs Drew’s arm, pulling him away from the stranger. The other pushes the dazed man toward the door, guiding him out of the bar.

You stand there, still trembling, as Drew is escorted toward the exit.

Your feet move before your mind can catch up. You need to make sure he’s okay.

You push through the crowd, eyes fixed on Drew’s back as he’s led toward the door.

Then you hear it—Drew’s voice, loud and sharp, cutting through the buzz of the bar, ”yeah- yeah, get the hell away!"

He’s shouting at the stranger, still seething even as security ushers him out.

You can hear the anger in his voice, raw and unsettling, and it sends a fresh jolt of fear through you. You’ve never heard him like this before. Not even close.

You’re outside now, the cool air hitting your skin like a slap to your face, but it doesn't calm the nerves tightening in your chest.

The stranger must’ve run off by now—he's nowhere to be seen.

Drew’s standing a few feet away from you, his hands running through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. His back is to you, but you can see his shoulders rising and falling with each breath.

You hesitate, watching him for a moment, unsure of how to approach him after everything.

“Drew?” you call out softly, your voice catching a little as you step closer.

He doesn’t turn around immediately. There’s a beat of silence, just the sound of traffic in the distance and your uneven breathing.

Then, finally, he lets out a heavy sigh and faces you, his expression blank.

But when his blue eyes land on your body, the way you’ve got your arms wrapped around yourself, slightly trembling, everything inside of him shifts.

His gaze softens almost immediately.

You look so small, so fragile standing there, and it hits him harder than anything else. The sight of you like this, visibly shaken and scared, makes his chest tighten painfully.

“Hey—” His voice drops soft, a faint crack in it, as he takes a step toward you. “hey- babe, babe, look at me.”

His hand rises toward you, to cup your face, but he freezes for a second.

There’s droplets of blood on his knuckles. The realization hits you, and your breath catches in your throat.

Despite the fight he started, you worry, worry about him.

“Drew… you’re hurt,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heartbeat. You look at him, your eyes flicking to the blood on his hand.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insists, but the blood on his hand tells a different story.

“No, Drew,” you say, your voice sharper now, a little more firm, the concern for him creeping through your fear. “You shouldn’t have punched him. You could’ve gotten hurt-“

Drew’s brows furrow at your words. His eyes flash, and his jaw clenched as he steps closer.

“What?” His voice rises slightly, the anger from earlier seeping back in.

Your heart races at the shift in his tone, and for a moment, you feel the same fear from earlier, but this time it’s mixed with confusion.

“He- he said those things, did you not-“

“I know, I know, but—”

“-hear what he said? It’s fucking-“

“-but you don’t have to go that far, Drew. You could’ve just told him to back off—”

“And he would’ve listened?” Drew interrupts, his voice tense, his gaze hardening again.

“I—” You try again, your voice trembling.

You blink rapidly, trying to keep your tears from spilling, but it's hard to hide it.

You don’t even know why you’ve got tears in your eyes.

“Fuck- you don’t- are you that fucking naive-“

Drew’s voice raises sharply, frustration and anger spilling over.

When he raises his hand in a quick motion, your whole body tenses, and you instinctively flinch, pulling back just an inch.

But he was only going to run his hands through his hair, frustratingly pushing them back.

For a moment, you think he might—might—actually hurt you.

The guilt, the regret, floods his face, and his whole posture changes.

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath.

You don’t want to cry, don’t want to show him just how scared you are, but you can’t stop the way your body reacts.

Drew takes a hesitant step toward you, but his movements are careful, almost tentative, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away again.

“I’m sorry,”

when you hear the tenderness in it, the weight of everything hits you all at once.

You can’t stop the tears now. They flow freely down your face, your shoulders shaking, and you curse yourself for it, but it’s like all that fear, all the anxiety, is finally finding its way out.

Drew’s eyes widen when he sees your tears, his face falling. It’s like a punch to his gut.

Without thinking, he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in his warmth.

For a second, you don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to react.

The world outside feels so distant now, and all you can focus on is the steady rise and fall of Drew’s chest as he holds you. His heartbeat is like a slow, calming rhythm against your ear, grounding you in the chaos of everything that just happened.

Your tears keep coming, his hand gentle as it strokes your hair, a slow, soothing motion.

“I’m sorry,”

he whispers again, and this time, the words sound even smaller, quieter, as if they’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart too.

You inhale sharply, breathing in the familiar cologne with the alcohol, and strangely, it comforts you.

Even after everything that’s happened, Drew still smells like Drew—that safe, warm scent that’s so familiar, so tied to him in every way.

You pull away slightly, letting your hands rest on his chest. You look up at him, you see it the beautiful blue eyes of his, full of regret.

“I’m sorry,”

The third time he apologizes, each word heavier than the last, and you can see how much it’s hurting him.

His hand comes up, and you feel the warmth of his touch before you even see it. His fingers gently cup your cheek, and despite the blood on his knuckles, you lean into his touch, finding comfort there.

“I’m sorry too,” you softly say, which Drew immediately shakes his head at, the faintest smile tugging on his lips.

“No- no, I’m sorry, I- I overreacted.”

Drew’s eyes soften even more, if that’s possible. “You’re right- should’ve just told him to fuck off.”

You don’t know why- but the sudden swearing gets you, and you let out a breathless chuckle.

Seeing you smile, Drew’s lips curl into a small, relieved grin. Without saying a word, he pulls you close, resting his chin gently on your forehead.

And for a moment, everything feels just a little more okay.

-------------------------------

p.s this low-key feel more like rafe cameron

other

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey imagine #angst #fluff #fiction #request

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immuneivory · 3 days ago

Text

sweet tooth (741 words)

relationship: jon snow/sansa stark

rating: general audiences

tags: high school/college au, inspired by gilmore girls, fluff

"Juilliard still your first choice?" Jon asks, the question partly muffled by a yawn as he hurriedly kicks off his shoes and jacket before collapsing onto his bed with a theatrical flop.

It was late in the afternoon when he was finally able to clock out. He was tired, his feet and back hurt, and he was being followed by the cardboard scent of stale coffee. But the sight of Sansa entering the shop—the tip of her nose a bright pink, two steaming cups cradled in her gloved hands, and a beaming smile—made him forget about his aching muscles and heavy blinks.

At least momentarily.

Now that he’s back in his room, with the comforting warmth of hot chocolate in his stomach and free from the presence of his roommate Theon, thank god, he is about ready to pass out.

"Yes, it is,” Sansa says without hesitation, lifting her chin with a pretty, proud smile. She’s perched on the edge of the narrow twin mattress, removing her boots with an almost practiced amount of care. She then shifts closer to him, curling up on his striped sheets against his side. “The ballet program is perfect. It has some really good professors, plus it's close to here. Which my dad loves… of course.”

Yeah, only forty-two minutes away, Jon thinks, just the tiniest bit bitter.

He's proud of her. Obviously. He knows how hard she's been working toward this since—forever. He can’t even count the number of times he’d stolen glances at her heading to practice, her long legs in frilly, sheer skirts over matching light pink tights. Or the times he had caught her carefully wrapping bandaids around her bloody toes while passing her room on his way to hang out with Robb. Or the evenings spent alongside his mom, the Starks, and the Pooles, watching Sansa's and Jeyne's recitals—which would normally bore him to the point of literal tears, but he discovered from a very young age that Sansa has this unwavering ability to distract him from anything. But now, the realization that he had taken for granted living just across the street from her, hits him. Hard. Even his dorm is only a short walk from his mom’s apartment.

From her.

"Forty-two? How do you know that?"

Jon hadn't even realized that the words had slipped out of his traitorous mouth. He begrudgingly meets Sansa's gaze, her expression both curious and a little knowing, as if she’s seeing right through him—it's almost scary.

"You ever heard of Google?" He mutters, forcing an eye-roll as he turns his head away, trying to hide the rose tint most likely creeping across his cheeks.

"You looked it up?" Sansa asks, her tone brightening. He can see the beginning of a grin tugging at the corners of her lips from his peripheral.

Jon just shrugs in response.

"You looked it up," she repeats teasingly. Smugly. She pokes him in the chest with a slender finger—her nails painted a vibrant melody of pastels—which he quickly bats away.

"I was bored, okay? My mom was forcing me to watch some shitty reality show and I had nothing else to do. That's it." He scowls at his voice which, for some reason, decided to pitch up at least ten octaves.

"You looked it up," she says one last time, her voice softer now and all Sansa-like. He can feel her lips moving against the sensitive skin of his neck as she wraps her arms around his waist and nuzzles her face on his shoulder. Her earlier smugness now replaced by her soft, sugary sweetness.

He rolls his eyes again, but this time surrounds her shoulders with his arms and noses at her hairline. The strands still bearing a trace of dampness from the snow outside. Earlier, when he told her that she should’ve worn a beanie, she let out a laugh of pure disbelief. As if he was ridiculous for suggesting wearing a hat in twenty-degree weather, even if she “didn’t have one that matched her outfit.” He’s tempted him to bring this up again, simply to annoy her, but ultimately gets distracted by the vanilla scent of her shampoo and her warm breath below his ear.

Jon has never been one for sweet things but he'll make an exception for her.

"I looked it up," he finally confesses in a whisper, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

#jonsa au #ficlet #only posted this here for the moodboard ngl #i’m thinking of expanding this universe #my fic

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chelseeebe · 4 hours ago

Text

i’ll be your fool

part 2 to guilty as sin

18+. mdni. SMUT! mentions of alcohol briefly eddie munson x harrington!reader though no descriptions of r are used! no use of y/n.

a/n: heyyy i actually love this and i love their relationship and the sneakiness and so i do have another part for this because i cannot let them go so soon

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

eddie regrets a lot of things, but coming back with steve tonight might just be his biggest.

the muffled sounds of sex takeover his ears, corrupting his mind and infecting him with all sorts of ridiculous, filthy thoughts.

he, steve and christina had all gone out to some bar she had heard about, a good night, on reflection. hell, he’d even hit it off with some girl, talking music and all things steve never entertained.

but then instead of doing the intelligent thing of taking her home, or even going home on his own, he’d happily agreed to join steve and come back here.

he knows why, deep down.

because to even have a minuscule chance of sleeping with you again, made that decision a whole lot easier.

though, eddie’s not too sure it was the right decision.

you hadn’t made a noise since they’d been back, there was no sign you were even here and now he’s stuck listening to the sordid events next door, trying his hardest not to get hard over his best friend.

oh god.

he could jerk off, he supposes. but that wouldn’t last long and these two showed no signs of slowing down.

eddie desperately grinds his hips down into the mattress, it had been a while, alright? and by a while he means two weeks to the day since you’d lured him up to your room and crossed the line that should’ve never been entertained.

he wonders if you can hear it.

maybe you’re asleep.

maybe you’re not even here.

maybe he should check.

make sure you were doing alright in these traumatising circumstances.

who’s he trying to kid?

his dick is aching and you’re potentially just a couple feet away,

he’s already at your door before he can dwell on it, knocking softly, hoping to be heard above the rhythmic thumping of steve’s bed frame against the wall.

for a second he thinks there’s no answer, until he hears the soft padding of your feet against the floor and it creaks open to reveal your already scantily clad frame.

“c’mon,” beckoning him inside with your two fingers, turning the lock the second the door is closed behind him.

to do this once should’ve been enough, but to crawl back in here a second time, already completely pent up and desperate for your touch, he should know better.

your eyes trail down to the bulge in his boxers, widening just so when they meet his again, “that’s weird, eddie,” using his name to taunt him as you circle around, “do you wanna fuck my brother or something?”

“what? no- no.. jesus christ, i can’t.. can’t help it,” pulling at the fabric, now wishing he had just opted to jerk off instead.

“i’m joking,” placing your palms flat on his chest, nudging him back towards the bed, “i’m assuming you didn’t come in here to talk,” walking your fingers downward.

eddie shakes his head no, he’s not opposed to talking, but he can’t focus with this raging boner so perhaps you could do something about it first.

his knees meet the edge of your bed, buckling as he falls down onto the mattress. he can only look up, infatuated with your cascading figure and the taunting, narrowed eyes that sit above.

“sit back,” you order, knocking your knee into his to jump start his limbs into action before climbing atop, knees resting either side of his trembling thighs.

“i thought this wasn’t happening again,” teasing in your tone, after all he had been the one to cut this off. his words were stern but gentle, making sure that you understood that it wasn’t you per say, but your brother.

“i lied,” running his hands underneath your shirt, pinching at your doughy hips, “can’t stop thinking about you.. that night,” shifting himself so his feet are camped firmly on the mattress.

“yeah?” one hand caressing his cheek, the other held tight on his shoulder, “i knew you’d come back,” moving slowly over his stiff cock, “you can’t help yourself.”

eddie groans, unsure of whether from the sensation of your pussy rubbing against him or your words, however true they are.

“you don’t have to rub it in,” he adds through gritted teeth, “i can go if.. if you want,” losing his train of thought with every jerk and whine.

your hips rutting endlessly, he can feel his boxers dampen, a mixture of your arousal and his leaking cock to blame.

“do you think i want you to go?”

not really, but then, he could never be sure with you.

eddie shakes his head, obedient as ever. he wasn’t about to let his loose lips and poor self esteem ruin this too.

“so don’t say stupid things like that then,” staring at him in annoyance, too pent up to entertain his stupid mind games.

you huff, tugging at his underwear until they rest just below his balls, cock springing up against his stomach as he struggles to contain himself for much longer.

he’s only grateful that the sounds of he best friend are non-existent in your room. unsure if he could really put in the work with those distractions.

kissing messily at his jaw, you pant, “what do you want, eddie?” grinding your hips down against his cock, a lacy thong the only thing keeping you apart.

“you.. fuuck- i need you,” he gasps, handfuls of your ass in hand, gone far beyond horny at this point.

your lips quirk to the side, running your hand down the length of his torso, stopping just before his cock. “gotta be quiet, yeah?” before moving your panties to the side and fisting his dick, running his leaking tip between your soaked folds.

“jesusfuckingchrist,” he rushes, cut off by your hand slapping against his mouth, he’d blow this whole thing wide open if he weren’t careful.

your eyes roll slightly, lowering yourself onto his aching cock, muffling your own cries as you bite down onto your lip.

eddie said never again before but now he’s not sure he can ever leave you alone. your thighs collide with his, producing a sickeningly filthy sound alongside your soaked cunt, the remembrance of that alone could get him off for the rest of his life.

with your palm clamped firmly against his mouth, you pick up the pace, head thrown back towards the ceiling, using him purely to get off.

eddie’s useless, watching as you ride his cock, mouth open in blissful pleasure though you’re doing a better job of keeping quiet than he is. cursing muffled swears into your hand, his high pitched whines coming out in hoarse grumbles, he needed to scream, start yodelling or something.

“such a good boy,” muttering under your breath, the praise hits his ears with utmost delight, making his toes curl in tandem with his hips beginning to thrust mercilessly up against you.

there’s no cohesiveness to the movement, your bed rocking with the sloppy movements.

you let go of his mouth, entrusting him not to start yelling as you come to hold the back of his clammy neck.

“holy.. fuck,” breathing his words, punctuating his thrusts, “s’all yours- shit,” burying his face into your neck, carelessly connecting his lips to the soft skin, dotting kisses haphazardly.

your fingers curl into his hair, gently tugging at the roots as you near your orgasm, letting him take over the rhythm as your hips grow stagnant.

your whines occupy his ears, “ohgodohfuck,” eddie can feel your thighs begin to tremble, resting all of your weight on his body. his thrusts become loose and without much effort, desperate to cum inside of you but not stupid enough to suggest it.

“y’gonna cum?” he teases, his own orgasm near, switching the roles once more. your hips no doubt littered with markings of his fingertips, your ass red as a result of his grabby palms.

“mmm,” you mewl, which he takes as a yes, sinking himself deep inside for the last thirty seconds he had to give to you.

“fuu-uck,” pussy clenching around his throbbing cock, your body becoming completely malleable as you cum.

eddie ruts up lazily, right up until he can last no longer and this becomes a game of russian roulete. lifting your writhing body from his cock, spurting his thick release over his boxers and your unsuspecting thighs.

garbling a bunch of nonsense into the crook of your neck, “sh-shit, i’m sorry,” letting his arms hang loose, both of you reeling, panting in synchronicity.

you roll off of him to the other side of the bed, sighing softly as you do so, trying to regain your bearings just as he was.

the quiet is nice but he can’t stop his mind from wandering back to that moment only a fortnight ago.

eddie has to do it. it had been inflicting his mind since you came onto him two weeks ago.

i like them to be friends with my brother at least.

he breaks the silence, “can i ask you a question?” maybe he’d regret it and maybe you’d kick him out without even answering, but he was anxious to know and you were docile.

you hum, seemingly in agreement.

“have you ever.. done this with steve’s friends before?” he was just curious, that’s all. he didn’t care if he was the first but he’d like to maybe be the last.

“who told you?”

“who told me what?” turning to face you entirely, tracing patterns along your arm with his callous fingertips.

you sigh, looking anywhere but his eyes, “i made out with tommy onc- a couple times,” your eyes roll, an obvious regret, “why d’you think they’re not friends anymore?”

oh.

the realisation hits, not so much making him regret what had just happened but instead a reminder that steve wouldn’t be delighted to find out about your escapades. eddie didn’t want to lose steve at all, but then you’d sigh and your lips would fall apart and he’s forgetting about the implications of it all immediately.

he’s fucked. royally fucked.

he should get out of this room- this bed, and leave it all alone. no good could come out of continuing to mess around with you.

it’s clear you can tell he’s hesitant, watching his face with a frown, “it’s not that bad.. steve only found out because tommy told him,” shrugging his worries off, “you’re not gonna do that, are you?”

he shakes his head no, resuming his fingered tracing of your body, “i wouldn’t,” because really, he’s not that stupid.

you swallow, blinking before you begin, “i like having sex with you eddie,” coming to tap his cheek, drawing him from inside his head back to reality, “don’t ruin it.”

this is the part he’s most terrified about.

the quiet, passive moments that had his heart thumping faster and faster, moments that blurred the line between just hooking up and something more.

eddie wakes up slowly, your fingers drawing patterns on his scalp and the hum of the early morning from the window. your fingers weaving through his hair, sending shivers down his spine.

oh no.

this wasn’t a dream and this isn’t the bed he’s supposed to be in.

he shoots up, almost knocking your dozing body onto the floor, laboured breaths that hurt his chest.

“i fell asleep, i wasn’t supposed to fall asleep,” frantically trying to pull himself from the bed, a mess of nerves and adrenaline.

how could he explain himself?

steve would have him hung from the rafters if he so much as saw him in here.

you grumble getting out of bed, being the only one of the two of you to possess any common sense.

“just.. calm down,” throwing a glare his way, “i’ll check if he’s awake and then you can sneak out and no one will know,” shrugging on a discarded sweater, already sick of his worrisome look.

you hold your finger up to your lips, demanding his silence before inching the door open.

there’s faint chatter from downstairs, dishes clinking and then he can hear steve’s laugh. maybe they’d already peaked inside the guest room and found it empty, assuming he’d gone home. how would he ever explain that?

“coast is clear.. i’ll go down first, get dressed and come down in like ten minutes,” nodding so as to make sure he fully understood.

he nods back, sliding off the bed in utmost silence, tiptoeing back to his rightful room with baited breath.

he can’t hear steve’s accusations, or the inevitable screaming that’d come if they had happened to hear you.

eddie counts to sixty ten times, and then another for good measure. convinced that steve would’ve marched upstairs by now if he had suspected anything.

the stairs creak, giving his position away immediately. he’s still wary about needing to dash out of the door, prepared to leave his boots and run the four miles back home barefoot.

“here he is,” steve announces, rummaging for another mug, “how’d you sleep?” wiggling his brows, pushing for eddie to mention the unmistakably obvious noises of sex.

“yeah.. pretty good,” clearing his throat on arrival. you’re perched at the other end of the island, quietly sipping your own mug, pretending not to notice eddie’s gawping.

steve’s hand claps him on the back, shoving the mug of coffee into his grasp, “i’m glad, we weren’t sure if we were too loud,” covertly bragging, ever the annoying prick.

christina mumbles something, telling him to shut up and immediately turns to face you, pretending not to listen to the conversation.

“well well, what were you doing last night?” christina titters, eyeing the violet marking on your neck.

“oh um,” pulling your collar higher immediately, “i was just.. with a friend,” shying away from her questions.

eddie tries to stop his cheeks from flushing, he hadn’t meant to leave any evidence, but he can’t help himself from getting turned on all over again at the sight of you, marked by him.

“a friend? which friend?” steve grills, never not relinquishing the overprotective big brother act.

well, it was your friend to be exact. not that eddie says it.

“none of your business, thanks,” quickly shutting him down. it really was none of his business, mostly for his own sake.

steve’s brows furrow, a deep set frown on his face as he eyes your neck, very clearly the cogs are turning in his head. eddie’s just grateful that he knows steve and thus, he knows he’ll never figure it out on his own.

at least, he hopes.

“aw poor eddie,” christina starts, swaying his attention loudly, “you must be the unluckiest man alive,” she giggles, ignoring steve’s prying and subsequent confusion.

“yeah,” you nod, keeping your eyes on him, “poor eddie,” a mocking pout overcoming your lips.

fuck, he felt smug being in on this little secret with you. steve liked to poke and prod at eddie, pretend he was just joking, only eddie knew he wasn’t really.

but now he had this over him, one upping every jab and jest with the knowledge that he eddie had fucked his sister, right under his nose.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things

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woozinhos · 12 hours ago

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can i request a yeosang ff with his pregnant gf who's gonna have a girl named seolya. yeosang woke up hard like he's gonna explode if he doesn't have his dick in his gfs mouth or smth pls pls and tyvm.

Notes: gang I’m back hehe hope you missed me and enjoy the fics I post tonight!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Yeosang slowly opened his eyes, blinking groggily as he came to consciousness. He was immediately aware of a certain...discomfort. A warm, familiar ache between his legs that signaled he was hard as a rock. He glanced over at you, still asleep beside him, and felt a wave of desire wash over him. He shifted slightly, his body seeking relief from the throbbing need he felt.

Yeosang reached out to gently touch your arm, his fingers tracing a path up to your shoulder. He couldn't help but admire the way you looked, even in your sleep. The way your hair was splayed across the pillow, the way your lips were slightly parted. He felt a surge of love and desire for you, his heart swelling as he gazed at you. But the ache in his groin was becoming unbearable, and he couldn't ignore it any longer. Yeosang's hand moved from your shoulder to your stomach, his touch gentle as he rubbed slow circles on your belly. He felt a pang of tenderness as he touched the spot where your child, Seolya, was growing.

"My little family," he murmured to himself, his voice filled with love and affection. Yeosang's hand continued to roam over your belly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. He leaned in closer, his lips finding your neck and pressing gentle kisses along the sensitive skin. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, and how much he wanted you right now. As you stirred awake, Yeosang's lips froze on your neck. He held his breath, hoping you wouldn't be too groggy and would notice his state. He continued to gently rub your belly, waiting to see if you would fully wake up. His heart was racing, his need for you growing with each passing moment.

"Mmm...good morning," you mumbled sleepily, stretching and opening your eyes. You blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the light filtering into the room. Yeosang's hand froze on your belly again as you spoke, and he looked down at you with a mixture of relief and desire. "Morning, love," he replied, his voice a little huskier than usual. You turned your head to look at Yeosang, taking in his flushed cheeks and the way his chest was rising and falling a little too quickly. It was then that you noticed the tent in his boxers.

"Oh," you said, a small smile spreading across your face. "Someone's a little excited this morning." Yeosang chuckled sheepishly, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. "Yeah, well...I woke up like this," he admitted, his hand still resting on your belly. "And seeing you sleep next to me wasn't helping." You shifted closer to him, reaching out to gently trace the outline of his erection through his boxers. Yeosang let out a low moan, his eyes fluttering closed at your touch.

"God, you have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice filled with need. Your touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn't help but arch into your hand. He was already so sensitive, and every little movement of your fingers sent sparks of pleasure through his body.

"Please," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need you." You leaned in closer, your hand still working its magic on him through his boxers. "You know I can't do much while I'm pregnant, right?" you teased, your voice laced with playful innocence.

Yeosang groaned, his eyes opening to look at you with a mixture of desperation and longing. "I know," he said, his voice strained. "But that doesn't mean I can't think about it." He shifted restlessly, his body seeking friction against your hand. "You have no idea how hard it is to hold back when you're right there in front of me, all soft and beautiful." You continued to tease him, your fingers dancing lightly over his erection. Yeosang's breathing grew ragged, his eyes fixed on you with a mix of frustration and desire.

"Please, love," he pleaded again, his voice low and desperate. "I need to feel you. I need to touch you."

"Please, at least let me feel your mouth," Yeosang begged, his hips bucking up against your hand. "I need something, anything. I can't take it anymore." He looked at you with pleading eyes, his need for you overwhelming him. You smirked at him, enjoying the way he was coming undone under your touch. "You really want it that badly, huh?" you teased, your fingers still working him over his boxers.

Yeosang's eyes darkened with desire as you teased him, his need for release becoming almost unbearable. "I'll do anything," he growled, his voice low and gravelly. He gripped your hips and gently pushed you onto your side, his body following suit so that he was behind you. Yeosang positioned himself over you, his knees on either side of your head as he looked down at you with a mix of hunger and affection. His boxers were straining against his erection, the sight making his breathing even more ragged.

"You have no idea how much I've been thinking about this," he murmured, his hands gently running through your hair. Yeosang slowly pulled down his boxers, freeing his aching erection from the confines of the fabric. He let out a low moan as he felt the cool air hit his sensitive skin, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Please, baby," he begged again, his hand gently guiding his cock towards your lips. "I need you so bad. Just a taste, please." He was desperate for your touch, his body trembling with need as he waited for you to grant him his request. Yeosang let out a strangled gasp as your tongue made contact with his sensitive tip, his body shuddering at the sensation. He tangled his fingers in your hair, his grip on you tightening as he tried to maintain control.

"God, yes," he moaned, his hips bucking slightly forward as he sought more of your touch. "Just like that." Yeosang let out a deep, guttural moan as you took him into your mouth, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He rocked his hips slowly, his fingers gently massaging your scalp as you worked your magic on him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his body quivering with pleasure. "Don't stop." You could feel the smooth, velvety texture of his skin against your tongue, the weight of him heavy and satisfying. He tasted slightly salty, a mixture of sweat and arousal that made your mouth water. His hips moved in a slow, steady rhythm, gently guiding himself in and out of your mouth. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, tugging gently on the strands as he sought to control his own pleasure. As you continued to suck him, you could feel him getting harder and more desperate in your mouth. He was panting heavily now, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"I'm not going to last long," he warned, his voice strained. "You're driving me crazy, love." Yeosang pulled away from you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked down at you with a mixture of desire and regret.

"God, I want you so bad," he confessed, his eyes roaming over your body. "But I know I can't. Not while you're pregnant." He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his body still trembling with need. Yeosang's self-control was fading fast, his body and mind warring with each other. He knew he should stop, that he shouldn't be pushing you to do anything while you were pregnant, but the need was too strong. He slowly pushed his cock back into your mouth, his movements a little more forceful than before. He was being careful not to go too deep or hurt you, but he couldn't help the roughness that crept into his actions.

"Fuck," he groaned, his eyes fixed on the sight of you taking him in. "I can't help it. You look so good like this." You moaned around his cock, the sound sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He began to move faster, his hips snapping against your face as he chased his release.

"You're taking me so well," he praised, his fingers still tangled in your hair. "So good for me, even when I shouldn't be doing this." Yeosang's words were becoming increasingly incoherent as he lost himself in the pleasure of your mouth. His grip on your hair tightened, and he began to thrust a little deeper, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

"Fuck, I'm close," he panted, his voice rough with desire. "I'm going to come soon." You could feel him swelling even more in your mouth, his balls drawing up tight against his body as he neared his release. He was letting out a constant stream of curses and moans, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"Take it all," he gasped, his hips stuttering as he lost control. "I'm gonna come down your throat."

With a final thrust, Yeosang came undone, spilling his hot, salty seed into your mouth. He cried out your name, his body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. He slowly pulled out of your mouth, panting heavily as he collapsed onto the bed beside you. Yeosang leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, his hand still rubbing soothing circles on your stomach. He nuzzled against your neck, inhaling the scent of you as he held you close.

"You're perfect," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "You're everything I've ever wanted, and more." Yeosang continued to shower your stomach with kisses, his lips gentle against the soft skin. He pressed his ear against you, as if trying to hear the baby's heartbeat through your belly.

"I love you both so much," he murmured, his hand still caressing your stomach lovingly. "You have no idea how happy you make me."

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elyxir1zz · 1 day ago

Text

★ — Between the lines - part 8

CW : meanie sevika, artist reader, hockey player vi and sevika, modern au, highschool shenanigans, cheating, sex, dark themes, love triangle, lesbians, quickies

A/N : MY BABIES WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU-- oh and vanders here too i guess

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Freshman Year – Sevika POV

Sevika leaned heavily against her locker, arms crossed, her head resting against the cold metal as she exhaled through her nose. Her phone vibrated in her pocket for what felt like the hundredth time. She knew it was her dad, and she didn’t need to check the screen to know he was either blowing up her phone with angry texts or guilt-tripping calls. Their fight last night had escalated into shouting that echoed through the house, both of them saying things that cut too deep to take back. The anger in his voice still rang in her ears, but it wasn’t just that. It was the guilt—the small, insidious weight in her chest—gnawing at her for losing her temper.

She rubbed her forehead, trying to shake the memory away, her knuckles still red and raw from hours of pounding into the punching bag in her room. Her fists had been bloodied by the time she stopped, but she didn’t care. It was the only thing that made her feel like she could breathe last night.

“Hey!”

The cheerful voice jolted her out of her thoughts. Sevika glanced to her left as a girl with pink hair approached, her energy radiating like sunlight. She recognized her immediately—Vi, the freshman who seemed to always carry an air of confidence wherever she went. But as Vi’s gaze swept over Sevika, her expression shifted.

“...What’s wrong?” Vi asked, her tone softening, her head tilting in concern. She leaned casually against the lockers, but her sharp blue eyes locked onto Sevika like she was trying to read her mind.

Sevika shrugged, looking down at her bruised fists. “Nothing. My dad’s just being a dick,” she muttered.

Vi’s brows furrowed as she noticed the damage to Sevika’s hands. “That’s... not nothing,” she said, her voice gentle but pointed. “What happened?”

Sevika hesitated, her fingers curling into her palms. She wasn’t used to people asking questions like that. Most people kept their distance when she looked like this—bruised, tired, and carrying the weight of a bad mood. But Vi didn’t back off.

“I just needed to hit something,” Sevika admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She flexed her sore fingers, wincing slightly at the sting. “Got a little carried away.”

Vi’s expression softened, and before Sevika could react, Vi’s hand reached up to cup her cheek. The gesture caught her completely off guard.

“Sevika,” Vi said softly, her thumb brushing lightly against her skin. “I’m sorry. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone, you know?”

The touch sent a warmth through Sevika she wasn’t prepared for, and she flushed, quickly averting her gaze. “I’m fine,” she mumbled, her voice more defensive than she intended. She felt exposed under Vi’s gaze, like her walls had suddenly turned to glass.

Vi didn’t pull her hand away immediately, but she respected the boundary Sevika was trying to set. Instead, she gave her a small, understanding smile before dropping her hand to her side.

“So,” Vi started, leaning back against the locker next to Sevika’s. “Are you going to hockey tryouts tonight?”

Sevika blinked at the abrupt change in topic. She wasn’t sure if Vi was trying to lighten the mood or distract her, but she appreciated it either way. “I was thinking about it,” she admitted, her tone softening. “But I’m not really sure it’s my thing.”

Vi’s face lit up, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Not your thing? You’ve got the size and the attitude for it. I bet you’d be scary as hell on the ice.”

Sevika couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her. “Scary, huh?”

“Terrifying,” Vi teased, nudging her shoulder playfully. “Seriously, though. You should come. You’ve got a lot of fight in you, and that’s exactly what the team needs.”

Sevika looked at her, studying the earnestness in her expression. For the first time that day, she felt a small flicker of something other than anger and exhaustion. Maybe she’d give it a shot.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Vi grinned, straightening up. “Good. I’ll see you there, then.”

Before Sevika could respond, Vi started walking away, tossing a quick wave over her shoulder. Sevika watched her go, the warmth from her touch still lingering on her cheek.

Maybe trying out for hockey wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Violet's POV

Vi stood in front of the poster taped to the wall, her chest tightening as she scanned the list. Her name wasn’t there. She stared at it, hoping maybe she’d missed it somehow, but there was no mistake. Her name wasn’t on the list, but Sevika’s? Sevika’s name was at the very top, bold and unavoidable.

She let out a sharp sigh and looked down, biting the inside of her cheek to stop the frustration from bubbling over. The noise of footsteps and laughter from behind her snapped her out of her thoughts. One of her guy friends approached, slinging an arm over her shoulder with an exaggerated, almost mocking sympathy.

“Yikes, kid. We really thought you had it in the bag,” he said with a grin that wasn’t nearly as apologetic as his tone pretended to be.

“Welp! There’s always next year!” a girl in the group added, her laugh grating in Vi’s ears.

“We’re joking!” the girl said quickly, though the smirk on her face didn’t feel like a joke.

The group began walking away, their casual dismissal stinging more than it should’ve. “Love you, Violet,” the guy said over his shoulder, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Vi didn’t respond. She just stood there, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She hated the way they treated her, as if her failure was just some punchline.

Her gaze shifted back to the group as they made their way toward Sevika, who was standing a little ways down the hall, oblivious to the commotion. Sevika hadn’t even looked at the list yet, but it didn’t matter. Everyone already knew she’d made the team. She’d been the clear favorite from the start, with her natural talent and undeniable presence on the ice.

Vi’s stomach churned as she watched the group swarm Sevika, their voices loud and full of fake admiration. They crowded around her, practically cornering her against the lockers as they showered her with compliments.

“Sevika, you were amazing out there!” “Honestly, you carried the whole tryout.” “They’d be crazy not to pick you as the team captain next year.”

Vi narrowed her eyes, her jaw tightening as her nails dug into her palms. Her frustration wasn’t just about not making the team—it was the way everyone treated Sevika, like she was some untouchable force. It wasn’t Sevika’s fault, and deep down, Vi knew that. But in that moment, the jealousy and resentment burned too brightly for her to care.

Sevika’s gaze finally broke through the crowd, her eyes landing on Vi. Her brows furrowed with concern, and she took a step forward as if to come over. But one of the guys in the group grabbed her arm, pulling her back into the circle.

“C’mon, Sevika! You’re the star of the team now. We’ve got to celebrate!”

Sevika hesitated, glancing back at Vi, but the group didn’t give her a chance to move. They kept her pinned in place with their endless chatter and over-the-top praise.

Vi turned away, the lump in her throat growing heavier. She didn’t want to be there anymore. She didn’t want to see Sevika surrounded by people who seemed to idolize her, not when Vi felt so small in comparison. She shoved her hands into her pockets and walked off, her head low as she tried to shake the bitterness that clung to her like a shadow.

After breaking up with Vi, everything felt like it was spiraling. You spent hours in your room, staring at the walls, replaying every word of the breakup in your head until it blurred into static. You barely slept, and when you did, your dreams were littered with fragments of the past—Vi’s laugh, her hockey stick clattering against the ice, her disappointed eyes as you walked away. The silence in your life was unbearable, and you knew you needed to do something, anything, to fill the void.

It was in one of those restless moments that Jinx called.

"Hey, loser," she greeted, her voice loud and chaotic as always. "You ever think about making cappuccinos for angry old ladies or pretending to care about someone's gluten allergy?"

"What?" you asked, blinking as you sat up in bed.

"The bistro downtown!" Jinx exclaimed. "They’re hiring. I work there sometimes, you know, when I’m not blowing stuff up in my head. Come work with me! It'll be fun!"

You hesitated, but before you could say no, she steamrolled over your thoughts.

"Besides," she added with a teasing lilt, "ever since your mom and vander started hanging out and drinking wine while talking shit about us, shes been taking any chance i walk past them to course me into convincing you into getting a job"

You groaned, but she had a point. Your mom had been hinting—not so subtly—that it was time for you to start "pulling your weight." With a sigh, you found yourself muttering, "Fine. I’ll apply."

"That’s the spirit!" Jinx cheered. "Just don't burn the place down on your first day."

The next day, you showed up at the bistro. It was small but charming, with rustic wooden tables and potted plants hanging from the ceiling. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, and for a moment, you felt... okay.

Jinx was already there, balancing on a stool behind the counter while trying to fix a crooked "Specials" sign. She waved at you with exaggerated enthusiasm.

The manager/owner was a dorky guy. He was nice and could be sarcastic, he reminded you of an older brother youd never had

By the end of your first shift, your feet ached, you had spilled milk on your shirt, and you were fairly certain one of the regulars hated you. But for the first time in days, your head wasn’t drowning in regrets or sadness. You had something else to focus on—a new challenge, even if it was just making lattes and wiping down tables.

As you locked up that evening, Jinx nudged you with her elbow. "So, what do you think? Bistro life suit you?"

You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It’s... something."

As for Sevika... she had a habit of crawling through your window, unannounced but never unwelcome. It started as an occasional visit, but soon, it became almost a routine. Some nights, she'd show up for hours; other times, she'd stay until morning, slipping out before your mom stirred from her room.

You didn’t question it much at first, but deep down, you suspected she was worried about you. Maybe she thought your thoughts would get the best of you, or maybe it was just her way of being there without saying too much. Sevika wasn’t the kind of person who offered flowery words of comfort—she’d never been—but her presence said more than any speech could.

The nights she didn’t come around, she’d call instead, her deep voice crackling through your phone late into the night. “You doing okay?” she’d ask, in that casual but heavy way that told you she wasn’t just making conversation. And when she wasn’t calling, there was always a string of texts: Did you eat? Don’t stay up too late. You need anything? Sometimes it was nothing more than a simple goodnight, but it was enough to remind you she was thinking about you.

When she did show up, she’d crawl through the window with the quiet ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. She’d drop her jacket over the back of your desk chair, her broad shoulders filling the small room as she plopped onto your bed like she owned it. “Your window lock’s a joke,” she teased once, smirking as she adjusted the blanket around her.

On those nights, the two of you would talk about everything and nothing. Sevika would sit cross-legged on your bed, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket as you told her about work, school, or whatever random thought popped into your head. She’d listen, really listen, her sharp eyes softening in a way that made you feel seen.

Sometimes, she’d bring snacks she swiped from the gas station, or a book she thought you’d like. Other times, she’d just lie beside you, her arms crossed behind her head, and let the silence fill the space. Those were the nights you felt the safest—the weight of her beside you grounding you in a way you didn’t fully understand.

One night, as you lay on your side, watching her chest rise and fall in the dim light, you whispered, “Why do you keep coming here?”

Her eyes flicked open, and she turned her head to look at you. “Why not?” she said, her tone light, but the way she held your gaze told you there was more to it than that.

You didn’t push for an answer, and she didn’t offer one. But as she reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, her fingers brushing your cheek, you knew.

Sevika stayed until just before dawn, as always. And as you watched her climb back out the window, her silhouette disappearing into the early morning haze, you realized you didn’t mind her coming and going as much as you thought you would.

Sevika pressed you against your door. Hand on your hips. You giggle as she kisses your jawline. You lean your head back for her as she ventures down your next. It has been at least a month since you broke up with vi and you've been attempting to keep your relationship with sevika quiet. Even if it didn't really work. People were definitely noticing her consistently by your side, when she whispers sweet nothing in your ear.

You giggle as your hand goes to her belt and you feel something pressed against your palm “..are- are you wearing your strap right now?” you tilt your head. “Shut up, baked salmon” she teased. You wrap your arms around her neck and push yourself off the door. You guide her to your bed she looks down at you with a smirk taking in the scent of your perfume

You push her down onto the bed, climbing on top of her. Her hand rested on your lower back, you cup her cheek, memorizing her face for a second. You placed a small peck on a scar on her jaw “how'd you get this one?” you tilt your head

“I was being stupid without my helmet and the puck hit me right on the jaw” she sighed at her own stupidity.

You giggle and straddle her hips. “I have work in an hour” you giggle as she holds your hips “mmm quickie?” she tilted her head. You roll your eyes and scoff “fine you maniac”

A sight for sore eyes when you were sat on her lap, bouncing on her purple strap, Head thrown back and face fuzzy. Her hands remained on your hips watching you with a smirk as you completely lose yourself. Her hand massaged your clothed tit “such a dirty slut” she chuckled

All you could respond with was a choked out moan as she grinded into you. You falling into her chest, hiding your face “thats it, cum on my cock” she said as your body seized. Seeing stars as she pressed her hand to your head, holding you so close.

Sevika leaned back against your desk, smirking as she watched you rush around the room like a whirlwind. “You know, you’re not gonna get ready any faster by panicking,” she teased, her tone dripping with amusement.

“Easy for you to say,” you huffed, yanking a brush through your hair while simultaneously trying to pick out an outfit. “I have 30 minutes to get to my shift, and you’re just sitting there looking smug.”

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest as her eyes followed your frantic movements. “I think you look fine the way you are,” she said casually, her smirk deepening when you shot her a glare.

Ignoring her, you turned back to your wardrobe, tossing clothes onto the bed in search of something suitable. Lately, you’d noticed her style rubbing off on you. Darker colors, edgier cuts—you’d even found yourself drawn to combat boots and ripped jeans, things you never would’ve considered before. And, of course, you always topped off your outfit with the leather jacket she gave you at the start of... whatever this was.

“Don’t forget the jacket,” Sevika called out, as if reading your mind.

“I wasn’t going to,” you shot back, slipping it on over your shirt. The familiar weight of the leather made you feel oddly secure, like you were carrying a piece of her with you.

Once you were finally dressed, you grabbed your makeup bag and darted over to the mirror. Sevika watched with amusement as you attempted to apply eyeliner while standing on one leg to pull on your boots.

“You gotta go,” you giggled, standing in front of her with your hands on her shoulders, trying to push her toward the window.

She didn’t budge, of course. Instead, she grabbed your hips, her large hands resting on either side as she grinned up at you. “What, you’re kicking me out now?”

“You know my mom will lose it if she catches you here,” you said, though your laughter betrayed any real urgency.

Sevika chuckled, her thumbs brushing lightly against your sides. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” she said, though she made no effort to move.

“Sevika,” you said, your tone half-scolding, half-laughing.

“Fine,” she sighed dramatically, pushing herself up from the desk. As she stepped toward the window, she glanced back at you, her smirk returning. “Don’t miss me too much while you’re at work.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile.

You and Jinx were chatting at the counter, enjoying a lull in the shift. With no customers waiting to order at the counter, you both assumed that meant nobody needed help. Of course, the growing number of annoyed faces at the tables suggested otherwise, but neither of you seemed too concerned.

“I regret putting you two on this shift,” the manager muttered as he walked by, shooting you both a pointed look. “Go tend to the customers.”

Jinx groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Fine, fine,” she muttered, reluctantly stepping out from behind the counter to take orders.

You stayed behind, leaning casually against the counter until you noticed Jinx returning, but this time she stood across from you where customers placed their to-go orders. Her smirk was devilish—the kind that usually meant trouble was brewing.

“Do you think he’s hot?” she asked, tilting her head toward the manager, who was busy chatting with a customer at the bar.

“Ehhh,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “Not really my type.”

Before Jinx could continue, the door chimed, and a boy with stark white hair strolled in. His confident smirk and relaxed posture made him hard to miss. He sauntered over to the counter, leaning casually next to Jinx.

“Hey, ladies,” he said smoothly, glancing between the two of you before locking eyes with Jinx.

There was a shift in the air as Jinx and the boy—Ekko, you assumed—stared at each other in silence. It wasn’t the comfortable kind of silence, either. There was tension there, a loaded history that seemed to hang between them.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between them before deciding it was safer to back away. Grabbing a notepad, you quietly slipped off to tend to the tables, keeping a subtle eye on the scene from across the room.

“What are you doing here, Ekko?” Jinx finally sighed, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “It was a stupid mistake to kiss you.”

Your ears perked up at his words, but you kept your focus on taking orders, pretending not to listen. Still, you couldn’t help glancing over occasionally to make sure things didn’t escalate.

Just as you were trying to gauge if you needed to intervene, your manager stepped into your line of sight, blocking your view of Jinx and Ekko entirely.

“Seriously?” you groaned, crossing your arms as you tried to look around him.

The manager gave you a stern look, though there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “You need to work,” he said simply.

“Why aren’t you bothering her?” you shot back, gesturing toward Jinx, who was still locked in conversation with Ekko. “She’s the one in the middle of it.”

The manager’s gaze softened slightly, his tone shifting. “Listen, I know what it’s like to be a teenager,” he said with a small shrug. “I’m giving her a pass.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. Your teasing demeanor faded, replaced by a flicker of awe. “That’s like... really nice,” you admitted with a small smile.

“What? I can’t be nice?” he quipped, raising an eyebrow at you.

“No, it’s just—” you paused, glancing back at Jinx and Ekko before looking at him again. “I didn’t think you’d be so... understanding.”

The manager huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it. Now go take care of the customers before I regret being nice.”

Ekko eventually left the bistro without ordering anything, his expression unreadable as he disappeared through the front door. You took that as your cue and walked over to Jinx, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“What was that about?” you asked, leaning casually against the counter as you turned to her.

Jinx bit her bottom lip, a rare flicker of nervousness crossing her face. “We’ve been hanging out for the past month,” she admitted. “And last night, he kissed me. But we were drunk, so—” She sighed, trailing off as if the weight of the situation was still pressing on her.

“Wait, are you hungover right now?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied her.

Jinx scoffed, smirking. “No, I don’t get hangovers.”

You couldn’t help but mock her, mimicking her voice with a playful grin. “I don’t get hangovers,” you teased.

Before Jinx could respond, the door chimed again, and both of your heads turned toward the entrance. Violet walked into the restaurant, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. Your heart sank a little, but you quickly backed up, stepping away to give them space.

Jinx sighed, watching you retreat before she turned her attention to Vi. Her expression hardened as she walked over to intercept her. “You can’t be here,” Jinx said firmly, crossing her arms as she stood in front of Vi.

“What? Why?” Vi narrowed her eyes, confused by the sudden hostility.

“Look at her,” Jinx said, her voice quieter but no less serious.

Vi turned her head, glancing back at you. You were behind the counter, pretending to be busy, but the sad look in your eyes gave you away. You weren’t even trying to hide it.

“What? She and I are cool!” Vi groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration.

Jinx shook her head, stepping forward and nudging Vi toward the door. “No, you’re not. Not yet. Just... give her some space.”

Vi resisted for a moment but eventually let Jinx guide her out of the bistro. She stopped just outside the door, looking back through the window at you one last time before walking away.

Jinx sighed as she re-entered, running a hand through her hair before walking back over to you. “You okay?” she asked softly, leaning against the counter next to you.

You gave her a small, forced smile. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Jinx didn’t push, but the knowing look on her face told you she saw right through the facade. Instead, she just bumped her shoulder lightly against yours and changed the subject. “Alright, let’s get back to work before he starts hovering again.”

“I don’t know. I feel like she’s keeping something from me,” Samantha sighed, swirling the wine in her glass as she leaned back against Vander’s couch. Her shoulders slumped, and she pressed the cool glass against her cheek as if it might ease her frustration.

Vander, seated across from her, nodded in understanding. “Tell me about it,” he replied, a weary look crossing his face. He took a long sip of his wine before adding, “Vi’s been coming home drunk, and Powder… well, she keeps avoiding talking to me.”

Samantha’s brows shot up in surprise. “Drunk? Where is she even getting alcohol?” she asked, setting her glass down on the coffee table.

He shrugged, a mix of exasperation and resignation in his expression. “I don’t know. I try not to pry too much—kids her age don’t like that. But… I think the breakup is really taking a toll on her. She hasn’t been herself lately.” He rubbed a hand over his face, his rough fingers brushing over his beard.

Samantha sighed deeply, her concern etched into every line of her face. “Maybe I should put her in therapy,” she muttered, almost to herself. “I just… I don’t know how to get through to her anymore. She’s shut me out completely.”

“Therapy might not be a bad idea,” Vander admitted, though there was hesitation in his voice. He leaned back against the couch, his eyes drifting to the picture frame on the wall. It was an old family photo, back when things felt simpler. “Powder’s not any easier, though. She doesn’t like Silco, and now every time he comes over, it’s… awkward. Real awkward.”

Samantha followed his gaze to the picture on the wall. The corners of her mouth tugged into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Things were easier when they were little, weren’t they? Back when their biggest problems were scraped knees and broken toys.”

Vander chuckled softly, though it was tinged with sadness. “Yeah. Now it’s heartbreak, rebellion, and… whatever else life’s throwing at them.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared worries hanging heavily between them. Samantha finally broke the quiet, her voice hesitant. “Do you think we’re doing enough? For them, I mean. As parents?”

Vander glanced at her, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. “I don’t think there’s a right answer to that,” he admitted. “We do what we can, hope it’s enough, and… pray they find their way.”

She nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. “I just hope she knows I’m here for her, even if she doesn’t want to talk to me right now.”

“She knows,” Vander assured her, his voice steady and firm. “They both do. They just gotta work through it in their own time.”

Samantha gave him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Vander. It helps… talking about this.”

“Anytime,” he replied with a reassuring grin. “That’s what friends are for, right? Even if it’s just to drink wine and complain about our kids.”

They both laughed softly, the tension easing just a little as they clinked their glasses together in a quiet toast

The front door creaked open, and the faint sound of giggles drifted into the living room. You and Jinx stumbled in, leaning on each other for support, barely able to contain your laughter. Vander’s head turned toward the noise, his brow furrowing.

“Powder? Come say hi to Samantha,” Vander called, his tone firm yet warm.

You and Jinx exchanged a brief look—wide-eyed and knowing—before awkwardly trying to straighten yourselves out. You were both undeniably wasted, and there was no way to hide it.

“Uhh… yeah, Dad, we’re pretty beat. She’s gonna stay over tonight,” Jinx mumbled quickly, waving it off as you both shuffled toward the stairs, trying your best not to trip over each other.

Vander’s skeptical gaze followed the two of you, and Samantha raised her eyebrows in silent agreement with his concern. “Something’s up,” he muttered under his breath.

“Wait a second,” Samantha called, her voice sharp. She stepped closer, her eyes locking onto you with a mother’s intuition that you couldn’t escape. “Sweetheart!”

You froze, cursing silently under your breath before forcing a too-wide smile and turning to face her. “Mom!” you said, blinking in an exaggeratedly innocent way.

Her eyes scanned you and Jinx, who were still hooked together like conspirators caught in the act. You swayed slightly as she took a step closer. Vander crossed his arms, his stern expression practically drilling into Jinx.

“Are you guys drunk?” Vander asked bluntly, his voice low but firm.

You and Jinx immediately launched into synchronized denial, shaking your heads furiously. “No! Nope! Not at all!” you stammered.

“I’m sober like a judge,” Jinx added with a giggle that completely undermined her claim.

Vander let out a long, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Powder, you know you can’t drink on your meds,” he said, his tone laced with disappointment.

Jinx pouted, her mischievous grin fading for a moment. “I’m fine, Dad, it’s not a big deal,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

Samantha, however, turned her full attention to you. She stepped closer, concern etched into her face. “Seriously? Sweetheart, what’s going on?”

Your smile faltered, and you waved her off, your voice rising defensively. “I’m fine, Mom! Seriously, it’s nothing!”

“Nothing? You come in here reeking of alcohol, barely able to stand straight, and you call that nothing?” Samantha’s voice was sharp, cutting through your weak excuse.

“It’s not a big deal!” you snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Can we not do this right now?”

Vander raised his hand, his voice cutting through the tension. “Enough. Both of you.” He looked at Jinx and then at you, his voice steady but firm. “Go upstairs. Now.”

Jinx grabbed your hand, her grip tighter than necessary, and started pulling you toward the stairs. “Good night!” she called out, her voice overly cheerful as she tugged you along.

Samantha and Vander watched the two of you disappear up the stairs, the sound of muffled laughter trailing behind.

Vander let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Teenagers,” he muttered.

Samantha shook her head, worry clouding her face. “This isn’t like her. Something’s going on, Vander.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “We’ll figure it out.”

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