#But the effort is so LOW why are you like this .

[wonjns]

a dip — l.cy

⌗ pairing. . . anton lee x male reader

⌗ genre. . . smut

⌗ summary. . . you went with your fuck buddy to the pool… that was your first mistake.

⌗ includes. . . sub!reader, fwb!swimmer!anton, public sex (pls don't esp not this one), unprotected sex (also don't),

⌗ wc. 2.5k

°A/N. . . sorta requested but also not really,, also not proofread nor very pretty or as descriptive as i like to be im so sorry this is just what you get when im horny bc these pictures ruined my life

you knew much better than to agree to joining anton lee at the pool of all places.

being a lifetime friend (occasionally with benefits) of his, you knew the swimmer could spend hours upon hours at the pool and not feel an ounce of exhaustion. he'd often convince you to stay long after you finished swimming yourself, just to wait for him to complete his cool down routine before driving you home.

the worst thing of all, though, was that you were constantly reminded just how much he had hidden underneath those oversized sweaters and jeans that he always wore. behind that whole shy boy aesthetic he had going on, was the physique of what you could only compare to a greek god, and even he knew it.

you never got used to it - seeing anton's chiseled body exposed in the aquatic habitat that felt like a second home to him. no matter how sweet his smile or how loud his laugh, nothing could distract you from drooling over a body like that cutting through the water with such ease. it was even worse because the sweet boy knew exactly what he did to you.

he tried to cut you some slack, though, respecting your effort to seem unbothered every time he'd peel his layers of clothing off before jumping into the pool, wearing nothing but his tight blue swim trunks that suffocated his muscular thighs.

one time he even pretended not to notice how you were so worked up that you had to go not-so-subtly get yourself off in the community bathroom.

in your defense, it was a heated indoor pool, and at the time he had completely annihilated you in a race. that proud smirk paired with the steam rising from his rippling back muscles had you biting back moans from the sight alone.

so naturally, it was to no one's surprise once things turned physical between you both.

the adrenaline that swimming gave anton put him on cloud nine, and being the stubborn ass that you were, you were determined to somehow beat this pro swimmer in a race - only for it to end with you losing miserably and somehow hornier than when you started. things would always end one way or another, a taunting comment directed at you leading to his bare back pressed against the cool tile walls of the changing room while you yanked his shorts low enough to take his throbbing cock into your mouth.

but today you were going to be good.

you hadn't hooked up with anton for a while, and were truly only tagging along because he needed a friend to time his laps for the upcoming season.

however, it'd be a lie to say you didn't have to give yourself a prep talk as you set your things down on the pool chairs, noticing nobody was there tonight. it was business as usual, though. anton always convinced the coach to let him have later access while the rest of the team went home so he could focus. you just found it harder to control yourself around him when left alone like this, but tonight you had a new type of dedication to simply swim, help your friend, and go home.

besides, why would it be so difficult for you to keep it in your pants for just one night?

‘oh, thats why.’ you groaned internally as you watched anton strip his shirt from over his head.

fuck, had he been bulking up?

you pretend not to notice how his biceps flex as he runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair while you stripped down to your swim trunks as well. god, his skin was practically glowing even from the dingy indoor lighting.

your head whipped around back towards his direction when you heard a low hiss, watching his face scrunch slightly as he stepped down the pool's ladder. your dick twitched a bit at the sight of his furrowing brows and low groan as he sunk deeper into the water, but you mentally slapped yourself back to reality.

"what's with you?" you questioned approaching the steps, getting ready to enter as well.

"i forgot to remind coach to turn the heaters on tonight," he responded. "shit, its freezing."

you thought he was being dramatic, but the chilly water indeed bit back when you lowered your ankles in. you decided against submerging for now, simply swirling your legs in circles while you spun anton's stopwatch in your hand.

anton began a quick warm up, stretching and dunking himself under water several times and adjusting quickly to the temperature. his wet hair splaying out around his face made him even more gorgeous than he already was, and you felt your cheeks gain a sickening warmth.

"alright bro, let's get started." you cleared your throat, speaking up to hurry the process along before your resolve crumbled.

"sure, bro." he mocked before sending a wink your way. shit, he was already on to you.

anton held eye contact with you as he hoisted himself out of the water to walk over to the swim lanes, causing your breath to silently falter. your instincts made you the first to break contact though, as your eyes followed the droplets that slid down his broad chest, past his perked nipples, over his abs and eventually disappear into his waistband.

god, you were such a pervert. and he loved it so much.

only 30 minutes into his laps you found yourself desperately missing the shy boy act that he would put on for every body else. once he was in athlete mode, the confidence in his demeanor made your self control fly out the window. it didn't make sense how someone as massive as him could practically fly through the water, flexing every inch of his muscle like it was nothing.

it forced you to reminisce on how he was in bed, constantly taking you with his immense stamina. he could toss and turn you in any way at any given pace, making you see stars like it was nothing — even when you were the one to start things, he made sure to finish them. you remembered the way his biceps would tighten and ripple in your grasp, holding on for dear life as you begged for him to thrust into you harder or squeeze you tighter. you missed the sore feeling those big hands of his would leave on your hips and thighs.

get it together, y/n.

if you had a dollar for every time you had to yank yourself out of the gutter in just the span of one hour, you'd be rich enough to drop out of school.

you had allowed yourself to sit calf-deep in the water at the end of the racing lane, but it wasn't until he reached you after knocking out 3 laps in a row that you regretted your decision. he emerged from the water with a big splash, throwing his head back and letting out the most erotic sigh you could imagine as he finally let air reach his lungs.

a lump formed in your throat, watching anton's buff chest rise and fall in tune with his breaths while both long arms gripped the edge of the pool on either side of your legs.

"what was my time for those?" the swimmer finally asked you once he had stabilized his breathing.

"oh! right, uhm...." you snap out of your trance, gut dropping when you looked down to the stop watching still ticking in your hand.

"you forgot to stop it, didn't you?" anton asked, a tone of more amusement rather than annoyance seeping through his smirk. "don't tell me you got distracted?"

"fuck, i'm sorry." you groaned, annoyed with your own sexual frustration overtaking your ability to play it cool.

"it's fine." anton shrugged, pulling his body out of the water and plopping on to the ledge next you, making you flinched as copious amounts of water splashed around the concrete. "just let me fuck you."

your eyes widened, damn near choking on the breath you gasped in. when you looked up to see his mischievous eyes, you swore you felt him leaning closer.

"what the fuck, ton?" you exhaled, slightly punching his arm, savoring the split second of contact you made with his warm skin.

"god, its been like a month, y/n. i can't focus on conditioning and you can't even click a button for me, clearly." anton chuckled. "lets just do it so i can have a good season. you know you’re my charm.” he teased, gently nudging you back with his elbow.

you couldn't believe the causality he was saying all of this with. but he did always call you his good luck charm, somehow managing to break his own personal record anytime you'd let him hit the night before or suck you off right before a meet, swallowing your cum like it was his own lewd type of protein shake.

it would also be a lie to an insane degree to say you didn't miss the way his soft skin felt gliding along yours whenever he would grind into you, his huge hands giving you a sense of stability in the way he would hold you down.

anton could tell from the way you were shamelessly biting your lip that you were thinking about it, taking the initiative to push your shoulders down until you were on your back.

he had barely let you utter out a desperate "okay" before he was rolling over on top of you, not hesitating for a second to drop his hips directly over yours so you could feel how hard his bulge had already gotten. you moaned aloud, hips immediately bucking up to meet his as he lowered his head to your neck, feathering wet kisses along your column.

the water dripping from his body was cold, but the warmth of his torso easily overcame it all when you needily reached out to pull the entirety of his weight onto you. you didn't realize how much you missed the rippling of his shoulder blades beneath your palms until you felt his body rolling in perfect tune with yours. you ran your shaky hands all over his chiseled back as you felt his hardened nipples brush against yours, and while you hopelessly wanted more you also didn't want this feeling to end.

you felt a little pitiful, just sitting there allowing yourself to moan in pure bliss as your wet bodies press into each other, gripping anton's wide shoulders as his kisses picked up in heat. he was sucking hickeys into the sweet spot of your neck while his swim trunks tightened more and more as he humped against you, making you dizzier by the second.

"you sound so fucking hot whimpering for me like that." he moaned, licking a long trail up your neck to your jaw.

you didn't have any time to respond before he was pulling you into a searing kiss, his plump lips sloppily devouring yours while groaning into your mouth. you remembered how much you loved the way he tasted, and silently cursed at yourself for going this long without him. when your lungs began needing air, you broke apart to moan out his name, just for him to grab your jaw and bring you back in for an even more overwhelming kiss. he was taking over every sense you had, filling your entire consciousness with nothing but thoughts of him. your hips bucked up incessantly, your body begging for him before your mouth could.

the hard concrete beneath you was starting to cause your limbs to ache as anton's mass pressed deeper into you, and he seemed to have read your mind, because before you knew it he was lifting himself off of you and dragging you into the water.

your mind was much too hazy to even register the vast difference in temperature, especially when you were clinging to anton like you needed him to breathe. it was as if something had taken over you and put you in the passenger seat of your own movements - all you could feel yourself doing was mumbling endless pleas for him to fuck you before pulling him in to reconnect your lips in a hot kiss.

you could feel anton's shit eating grin against your lips as he backed you up against the poolside, slightly lifting his leg against the lower pool wall in order to guide you grinding your cock against his thigh. he took advantage of your loud moan to suck on your tongue, loving the way your fingers curled into his wet hair.

there was only so much you could handle before you were reaching below the water to pull your own swim trunks off, deciding that if anton didn't fuck you right then you might actually explode. anton helped you discard the shorts and send them flying somewhere atop of the water. the second you were free, you felt your cock on his abs, causing your hips to take action and grind against the muscle before you could even think about what you were doing.

some combined variant of a choked laugh and moan left antons mouth as he watched you throw your head back, obsessed with the way you were using his body to chase the pleasure you craved. he decided that he had his fun, slipping free from his trunks as well and lining himself up against you.

"deep breaths, baby." anton whispered, trying to sound confident but coming out as shaky neediness as well. you would normally laugh at how it almost sounded as if he were advising himself, but you were too far gone.

when he finally bottomed out in you, his size and the pressure of the water had your mind in a different realm. you clung to anton's round shoulders as he held you securely, giving you time to adjust after not having him in you for a month.

"this little ass still so tight and ready for me, i knew you missed me." he sighed out, giving you small experimenting rolls of his hips.

when you gripped him tighter and started fucking yourself on his cock, he knew he was in the clear to send you to oblivion, and thats exactly what he did.

between anton's desperation and the feeling of your member rubbing along his built torso, it didn't take much for either of you to approach your highs rapidly. you were soon announcing them to each other while you clung your slippery bodies tight together, the once still water around you turning into nothing less of a tsunami.

"'m cumming, ton." you cried out, just for him to hum in agreement.

he held the back of your neck, pushing your head down to make eye contact with him as you both hit your climax at the same time, an oddly intimate feeling settling over you in the moment and making your skin buzz.

panting against each other's faces, anton leaned in to claim your lips once more before you were both giggling like a couple of fools, padding your hands around the water as you brought yourselves down to earth.

it took a couple of moments for you to gasp horrendously at the realization of what you both just did, looking to anton with so much terror etched in your eyebrows that he couldn't help but laugh.

"did we just- the school's pool- we-" you sputtered aimlessly, only stopping once anton's hand emerged from the water to cover your mouth.

"don't worry about it, coach will handle it. he won't mind, because after that i'm about to bring this school three new medals this year."

© 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐧𝐬 — all rights reserved

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER SIX ━━ Shattered Glass

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 3.8K

☆ ━ warnings: mentions of conversion therapy

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: finally bro

DANI STANDS in the dimly lit darkroom, watching the chemicals slowly bring her latest batch of photos to life. The soft red glow of the safelights fill the room, casting long shadows across the black-and-white prints hanging on the drying line. The hum of the machines and the faint smell of chemicals are oddly calming, giving her a momentary escape from the chaotic mess her life has become. She likes it here. The darkroom is one of the few places that still feels like her own—maybe her safe space.

She adjusts the print in the developer tray, her hands moving automatically as her mind wanders. It’s hard not to think about the other night, about Paige’s basket. The note stays with her, a flicker of warmth that she hasn’t felt in a long time. She wishes Paige hadn’t done it. She wishes she could’ve just stewed in her misery, in the mess she’s made. It would be easier that way.

Now, Dani can’t stop thinking about it. Paige is always there, lurking at the edges of her thoughts, no matter how much Dani tries to push her away.

It’s frustrating and comforting at the same time.

The door to the darkroom swings open, flooding the room with harsh light from the hallway. Dani blinks against it, silently cursing as Serena Corren struts in. The blonde cheerleader makes no effort to close the door softly, the bang of it slamming shut making Dani wince. Serena isn’t supposed to be here, at least not right now, but here she is anyway, crashing into Dani’s quiet space like she always seems to do.

“Hey, Dani.” Serena drops her yearbook materials on the counter with a loud thunk, her sharp voice cutting through the low hum of the room.

“Hey,” Dani mutters, her eyes fixed on the developing photo, hoping Serena will take the hint and keep her distance. But that isn’t how Serena works. She never really does subtle.

Serena leans over, peering at the picture. “You’re still working on that football game? Don’t you have, like, a thousand of those already?”

Dani shrugs, her jaw tight. “I’m trying to be thorough.”

Serena scoffs. “No, I think you’re trying to be alone in here, avoiding everyone.” She straightens, fixing Dani with a pointed look pursing her lips into a line. “You’ve been weird lately, you know that?”

Dani’s shoulders tense. She knows where this is going and she doesn’t want to deal with it. “I’m fine, Serena.”

“Yeah, sure,” the blonde drawls, pulling up a stool and plopping down on it without asking. “That’s why Beau’s been bitching to everyone about you. Says you’ve been acting all ‘distant.’”

Dani doesn’t say anything, keeping her eyes locked on her work. Beau. Of course, it’s about Beau. Everything is always about him—her boyfriend, her obligation. The person she’s supposed to care about. Except she doesn’t. Not really.

Serena crosses her arms, eyeing Dani with a mix of disdain and curiosity. “You’re lucky, you know that? Beau’s, like, the hottest guy in school, and you’ve been treating him like shit recently. So, spill, and tell me what your deal is.”

Dani’s grip tightens on the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white. “I’ve just been dealing with stuff,” she mumbles.

“Right, ‘stuff.’” Serena’s tone drips with sarcasm, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve got everyone worried, Dani. Not just Beau—though, let’s be real, he’s the only one actually trying. The rest of us? We don’t know why you even bother hanging out anymore if you’re gonna be so… ugh.”

Dani’s stomach twists, but she keeps her mouth shut. Of course, Beau’s trying. That’s the narrative. That’s always the narrative. But neither him or Serena or any of their other friends are ever actually trying to help. The blonde isn’t even asking if Dani was okay. She’s here to make a point, to make sure Dani knows she’s out of line for daring to withdraw from the group.

Serena’s lips curl in a half-smile, her eyes sharp. “Look, I get it. Maybe you’re going through something or whatever, but seriously? You’re not the only one with problems, Dani. Beau’s been putting up with a lot from you.”

Dani lets out a short, bitter laugh before she can stop herself. “Putting up with me? Are you serious?”

Serena’s smile falters for a second before she narrows her eyes. “Yeah, I am. You’ve been flaking on him for weeks, acting all moody, and he’s still there. Most guys wouldn’t stick around if their girlfriend was being such a—” Serena throws her hands up in the air, searching for a word, “—headcase!”

Dani’s vision blurs with irritation, but she swallows it down. It isn’t worth it, arguing with Serena. Sure, the girl was nice and welcoming at first, but it didn’t take Dani much time to realize just how fake Sersna can be. By now, Dani can hardly stand her, but she’s inevitable—Serena’s a part of Beau’s circle, part of this whole sick, suffocating dynamic Dani’s been shoved into. At this point, she has to hang out with them, even though Serena and the others have no idea what’s really going on, and even if they did, they wouldn’t care. They’d probably just mock her even more.

She can’t explain why she’s acting “weird.” She can’t explain why the thought of being around Beau makes her feel like her skin is crawling. She can’t explain how much she hates who she’s become since she got back from camp. She can’t explain that the more she’s sucked into this straight girl, quarterback’s girlfriend, Catholic princess persona, the more she feels the girl underneath it slipping away, caught in between two worlds that don’t meet.

Serena’s still watching her, waiting for a response, her lips frowning in faux concern. “You’re lucky he hasn’t dumped you yet.”

Dani grits her teeth. Lucky. She’s not lucky; she’d be much more lucky if he dumped her. Beau’s controlling, selfish, and she knows he’s never given a damn about what she wants or how she might feel. He’s only gotten worse lately too, like a few nights ago—leaving her stranded, making her walk home alone in the dark while he drove off, doing who-knows-what.

But none of that matters, because in Serena’s world, Beau can do no wrong. In fact, Dani wouldn’t even be surprised if the two of them have fucked by now. “Maybe I don’t care if he dumps me,” the brunette mutters under her breath.

Serena snorts, “Yeah, right. Please. You’d be miserable without him, Dani. You wouldn’t have anyone left.”

That is what hits Dani hard, the words sinking into her like ice. She wants to that Serena’s wrong, but the fear is there, gnawing at her. Because who will she have without Beau, without this group she’s been forced into? She’s already lost her real friends, the ones who actually matter. Paige, Thaliah, Jalen.

“Look,” Serena continues, her voice smug, “just stop acting like this. Whatever this moody, weird thing you’ve got going on? It’s not cute. We’re all getting tired of it.”

Dani feels the anger bubbling up again, sharp and hot in her chest. She can’t do this anymore—can’t sit here and listen to Serena drone on about something that doesn’t even really fucking involve her. “I don’t care if you’re tired of it, Serena. You know what? Maybe I’m the one tired of it, tired of hanging around all of you, tired of hearing you bitching, and tired of the fact that none of you have a nice fucking bone in your body!”

Serena’s eyes flash with surprise, but she quickly covers it with a smirk. “Wow, okay. You’ve been one of ‘us’ for months now. So what the fuck does that say about you then, hmm?” She pauses, letting the words sink in, before continuing, “You’re just like the rest of us. And if you’re really gonna throw away everything just because you’re in one of your moods, then I guess I thought you were smarter than you really are.”

Dani’s heart pounds in her chest, her hands shaking slightly as she turns back to her photos. She doesn’t respond. She refuses. Because if she does, she isn’t sure what will come out—whether it would be anger or something worse. She doesn’t want to cry in front of Serena. She refuses to give her that satisfaction.

After a long, tense silence, Serena stands, brushing invisible dust off her skirt. “Whatever, Dani. Keep being weird if that’s what you want. Just don’t be surprised when Beau gets tired of your shit and moves on. You’re replaceable, you know.”

Dani bites the inside of her lip at the venom in Serena’s words, but she doesn’t look up. She doesn’t let herself react, no matter how badly she wants to lash out.

The door to the darkroom creaks open again as Serena leaves, slamming it shut behind her.

PAIGE HASN’T heard a single word her financial algebra teacher has said the entire class period. Her foot taps against the floor incessantly, the low thud thud thud filling her head. She’s restless—scratch that, obsessed. Her is was stuck in one place, on one person.

Dani.

Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani, Dani.

Paige has been like this since Halloween, unable to focus on anything except the basket she left on the girl’s porch, hoping it would be some kind of olive branch. She’s spent the last few days replaying every interaction in her mind, trying to decipher Dani’s walls, to figure out what exactly is going on inside her head.

For how well and how long Paige has known the brunette, she simply can’t tell. She’s tried—but she has no idea what’s swirling in her ex-best friend’s mind that prompted her to create this entire situation. But what Paige does know is that she can’t keep sitting in this classroom pretending to care about math when all she wants to do is get Dani to talk to her. Really talk to her.

She lets out a sigh, barely noticing the way the teacher glances up from her notes. Paige bites her lip, her foot tapping even faster now, her knee bouncing. She can’t take it anymore.

Shooting her hand up, Paige catches the teacher’s attention. “Ms. Greene?” she asks, her voice a little shaky.

Ms. Greene, who’s in the middle of explaining some equation Paige can’t even begin to follow, stops mid-sentence, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, Paige?”

Paige swallows, feigning discomfort. “I don’t feel well. Can I go to the nurse?”

Ms. Greene studies her for a moment, clearly weighing how bad Paige looks. Then, she nods. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Paige quickly packs up her stuff, barely caring about leaving her things behind, and bolts out of the classroom. She isn’t going to the nurse. She has somewhere else to be—somewhere Dani would be.

She hates to admit it, but she knows Dani’s schedule like the back of her hand. It isn’t like she meant to memorize it; it just kind of happened over time. Call her a stalker—maybe she is—but she’s always paid attention to Dani, even now when they aren’t even friends anymore.

And she knows exactly where Dani is during this period: the darkroom. Paige has seen her slip into it on more than one occasion during this period. Paige has been in there herself several times, all with Dani, all last year. She’d sit on one of the stools and watch Dani work, infatuated like she always seems to be by the brunette. She misses it. She misses everything.

And she can’t stand it anymore. She has to get through to Dani. Today.

The hallways are mostly empty as Paige strides down them, her heartbeat quickening with every step. She isn’t sure what she’s planning to say, but she knows she has to say something. If she can just get Dani to open up—to explain why she’s shutting everyone out, why she’s pushed Paige away so violently—then maybe, just maybe, things can go back to how they used to be.

As Paige turns the corner, she slows her pace, watching someone step out of the darkroom. Serena Corren struts out, her face twisted in an annoyed scowl. The cheerleader’s blonde hair whips behind her as she slams the door with enough force to make Paige raise her eyebrows.  Serena’s eyes flick up as she passes the basketball player, and for a brief moment, their gazes meet. Paige can see the disdain in Serena’s eyes—she looks irritated, almost as if she’s blaming Paige for something, but neither of them say anything. The silent exchange is fleeting and Paige thinks it’s a little odd, too.

Paige reaches the door of the darkroom, her heart thudding in her chest. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t knock. She just pushes the door open. The low red light of the darkroom washes over her like a wave of unease, the smell of developing chemicals hangs in the air, and the soft hum of the machines fill the silence.

Before Paige can even step fully inside, Dani’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and biting. “God, if you’re gonna keep berating me about this—” Dani snaps, her tone dripping with irritation, clearly mistaking Paige for Serena.

But when Dani spins around, her words die on her lips. The fiery annoyance in her eyes quickly evaporates, replaced with shock. “Paige,” she breathes, like the wind has been knocked out of her. She blinks, her body stiffening. “What are you doing here?”

Paige steps further into the room, letting the door click shut behind her. She swallows, her heart racing as she locks eyes with Dani. “I’m here because we need to talk,” she says steadily.

Dani’s face hardens. She turns back to her photos, ignoring Paige like she isn’t even there. “There’s nothing to talk about,” Dani mutters, flat and dismissive.

“Yes, there is,” Paige responds firmly. She refuses to let Dani shut this down again. “You know there is.”

Dani quickly turns back toward Paige, a faux smile on her face. “You’re so right, Paige, we do need to talk,” she says, her tone sickly sweet. “Thank you for the basket, I appreciated it.” And then she turns right back to the photos.

Paige clenches her fists, frustration boiling up inside her. She’s spent months tiptoeing around Dani’s moods, giving her space, hoping she’ll come around on her own. But that isn’t working. She isn’t going to stand by while Dani pushes her further away, destroying herself in the process.

“Stop it,” Paige replies, shaking her head. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong, what exactly has been going on with you.”

Dani scoffs, shaking her head as she continues to work, refusing to look at Paige. “What, you’re just going to barge in here and demand I spill my guts?” she asks incredulously. “That’s not how this works, Paige.”

Paige steps closer, her voice firm but pleading. “I’m not trying to make demands. I just… I need to understand why you’ve been acting like this. Why you’ve been pushing me away. You don’t even look at me anymore, Dani. And I—” Paige’s voice cracks, and she swallows hard, fighting the emotion rising in her throat. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Dani’s hands still over the photo paper, her fingers trembling slightly, though she quickly balls them into fists to hide it. She doesn’t respond, but Paige can see the tension radiating from her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dani finally mutters under her breath, her voice barely audible.

Paige’s heart clenches. “Then why are you pushing me away?”

“I’m not,” Dani rebuttals, though both of them know she’s lying. “I just—I can’t do this right now, okay? You should go.”

“No,” Paige says, shaking her head, her voice ready to rise at any second because she’s tired of this. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to shut me out like this after everything we’ve been through, and then lie and say that you aren’t. I care about you, Dan. I always have. And I know you care about me, too. So, why are you doing this?”

Dani shakes her head profusely, almost like she’s trying to shake something out of her brain. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me,” Paige shoots back, her frustration rising. She can feel the walls between them, the weight of everything Dani isn’t saying, and it’s suffocating. “I’ve been your best friend since we were kids. You can’t just cut me out of your life without an explanation. I know something happened over the summer. Something had to have happened, because I know you wouldn’t do this without reason I know it. But I don’t know why you won’t let me in. Why you won’t even talk to me.”

“No!” Dani responds, her voice rising slightly to meet Paige’s. She stays stubborn, not breaking. “You won’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” Paige bursts out, her frustration finally spilling over. She throws her hands up in the air in disbelief. “God, Dani, I’m trying so hard to be here for you, but you’re making it impossible. Why won’t you just talk to me?”

Dani slams her hand down on the counter, making Paige jump. “Because talking won’t fix anything!” she snaps, turning to face Paige. The blonde can see the tears glistening in Dani’s eyes. “You think this is all about you, don’t you? That I’m pushing you away because of something you did. But it’s not about you. It’s about me. It’s about everything I’ve been through, everything I’m still going through. And you can’t fix that.”

Paige’s heart clenches at the sight of Dani’s tear-filled eyes, but she doesn’t stop. She steps closer once more, her voice soft but firm. “Maybe I can’t fix it. But I can be there for you. I can help you if you just let me. Please, Dani. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Dani shakes her head, her hands trembling. She averts her eyes, looking at the corner of the wall, refusing to meet Paige’s gaze. “I—I can’t,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “You don’t know what it was like…”

Paige’s breath hitches. Dani’s breaking, right in front of her, and Paige can feel it—the dam about to burst.

“What what was like?” Paige asks gently, her heart pounding in her chest. Her voice drops to a low murmur. “What happened, Dani?”

Dani stares at the ground, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Paige watches as Dani digs her nails into her thigh and she fights the urge to take the brunette’s hand in her own. “My dad…” the Callan girl starts, hardly a whisper. “He—on the Ring doorbell—he saw us kiss. You know how he is. You know what he believes in. He couldn’t accept the fact that his daughter liked other girls. So, he sent me to camp. And—and it wasn’t just any camp…” she pauses, finally meeting eyes with Paige. The blonde watches as her tears begin to spill, and she feels her own heart break with every word that comes out of Dani’s mouth. Dani shrugs, “It was conversion therapy.”

Paige freezes. “What?” Her mind reels, the words not fully sinking in at first. “You… you went to—”

“Yeah,” Dani laughs bitterly, her voice thick with tears. “All summer. While you were at basketball camps, traveling, I was stuck in that place. Being told every day that who I am is wrong. That what I feel is… is disgusting. That I was disgusting.”

Paige feels like the ground has been ripped out from under her. She stumbles forward, her hand reaching out to touch Dani’s arm, but Dani flinches away.

“Dani…” Paige’s voice is shaky, her heart aching. “I—I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” Dani whispers, and her voice breaks with a sob. “I couldn’t tell you, Paige. I wanted to. You don’t know how much I wanted to. But—y’know, I felt ashamed of the fact that I loved you just as much when I left camp as I did when I got there, even after everything they put me through. And I—I wanted to protect you from all my problems.” She pauses, sniffling slightly, trying to wipe her tears with the back of her hand. It doesn’t matter; they keep coming. “My dad, too. He’s friends with Beau’s parents. They started it—the thing with Beau and I. It made my dad happy; that’s all I really wanted. I’ve never wanted or liked Beau, Paige.”

Paige stares at her, eyes flitting across her face. She wants so badly to reach out and touch Dani, hold her. But she doesn’t want to scare her away. So, instead, she asks, “You never did? Not at all?” She thinks she already knows the answer, and she feels almost guilty for being relieved at it.

“Never,” Dani confirms, her arms wrapping around herself, probably trying to stem the sobs. “I wanted someone else.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat.

“But my dad,” the brunette chokes out, “he told me that if he ever saw us together again, that he’d send me back.” Dani looks up at Paige once more, her eyes bloodshot and filled with more fear than Paige has ever seen. Dani shakes her head, sobbing as she says, “Paige, I don’t wanna go back.”

Paige feels her heart shatter at the sight of Dani’s pain finally laid out before her. The blonde takes the final step forward, her hands going to cup Dani’s cheeks, making Dani look at her. Paige says firmly, feeling more protective of the girl before her than anything else in her entire life, “You’re not gonna go back, okay? He can’t you send you back. I won’t let him.”

Dani sobs again, and Paige pulls her in closer, was wrapping her arms around Dani into a tight hug. She holds her so tightly that it feels like they might both stop breathing, but Paige doesn’t care. She isn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever.

“I’m so sorry,” Dani whispers through her tears, clinging to Paige like she’s the only thing keeping her grounded. “I’m so sorry, P. I—I didn’t want to push you away, but I was so scared. I still am.”

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” Paige murmurs, her own tears slipping down her cheeks as she holds Dani even tighter. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

They stay like that, locked in each other’s arms, both of them crying, both of them holding on like the world is falling apart around them.

Because maybe it is.

But for the first time in months, they aren’t facing it alone.

[lulujeno]

crush culture — lee jeno ᡣ𐭩

summary : liking jeno was a mistake. kissing him didn't make it any better.

warnings : mentions of alcohol/drinking, kissing, cusswords, angst!! (this does not portray how the idols are irl, all the things here are written to match the song crush culture by conan gray!!)

wc : 6.3k

a/n : reader uses she/her pronouns !! jerk!jeno and bestfriend!mark :D thank u for 100+ followers ~~ cant believe i managed to pull out more than 5k words out of my ass >< my finals are currently happening so that's why i've been ia for soooo long :( i promise when i'm done i'll be clearing out both my drafts and requests ^^

Seeing your best friend, Belle, flirt with Jeno on your couch hit harder than you ever expected. The way they leaned into each other, laughter spilling from their lips like a sweet melody, made your stomach churn in a way that felt foreign and unwelcome. You had no right to feel this way, not when you knew about her crush on him. You had even agreed to be her wingman tonight, setting up this moment so she could finally have her chance. But somehow, along the way, you fell for him too, your heart weaving itself into a tapestry of unspoken feelings and bitter regret.

You should feel happy for her, after all her efforts to catch his attention, but the tight knot in your chest made it impossible to be anything but miserable. “It’s fine. Be happy. It’s your birthday, after all,” you whispered under your breath, trying to convince yourself. The words felt heavy, lacking the enthusiasm they were meant to carry. You exhaled a shaky breath before heading to the kitchen, desperate to escape the sight of them together.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the faint scent of alcohol and fruity punch hanging in the air like an unwelcoming fog. Mark stood by the counter, effortlessly mixing drinks with an ease that told you he’d done this a hundred times before. He glanced up as you entered, and a flicker of concern passed over his face when he caught sight of your downcast expression. He flicked his eyes toward the living room, and you knew he had noticed. Most of your friends knew about your crush on Jeno. It wasn’t something you talked about much, but the way your eyes lingered on him said enough.

“You okay?” Mark asked, his voice low, but the concern was clear, filling the space between you like a fragile glass.

You could only shrug, unsure of how to explain the whirlpool of emotions churning within your chest. It felt too complicated to articulate.

Without a word, he whipped up a drink, something colourful and sweet, and handed it to you. The condensation from the glass cooled your palm, but it did little to soothe the fire raging inside. The drink looked vibrant, but you could already tell it was just a disguise for the hollowness you felt.

“She’s kind of a bitch for doing that in front of you,” Mark muttered, glancing back at the couch, his fingers absentmindedly wiping down the counter. His words hung in the air like a lifebuoy tossed your way, and for a moment, it felt like they were offering you a chance to vent, to express all the things you were holding back. But you shook your head, pushing the thoughts down.

“Not really,” you sighed, taking a sip of the drink. The sweetness coated your tongue, but it tasted like nothing, a mere distraction. “I’m the bitch here. Liking the same guy as my best friend, after she tells me she likes him, that kind of thing breaks girl code.”

Mark furrowed his eyebrows, his confusion evident. “Girl code? Really?” He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “Come on, Belle falls for every guy who looks her way. Everyone knows that. Besides, you actually have a better shot, Jeno knows you, trusts you. You should go for it.”

You nearly choked on your drink, laughter bubbling up despite your mood. “Yeah, and get a reputation for stealing my friends’ crushes? No thanks, Mark. I’ll pass.” You handed him the empty glass, watching as he refilled it, his movements swift and practiced. The glint of the alcohol under the dim kitchen lights reflected how your emotions felt; messy and swirling, a whirlpool threatening to pull you under.

Mark sighed, exasperated. “It’s your party. Don’t let them get in your head. Go have some fun.” He handed you the new drink with a smile, but before you could take another sip, he added, “And don’t drink too much. You can’t handle it, and we both know it.”

But after two glasses, fun was the last thing you felt. The sight of Jeno and Belle still played in your mind, a vivid loop that made the alcohol churn uncomfortably in your stomach. You tried to find Belle in the crowded room, but she was nowhere to be seen. After asking around and realising Jeno wasn’t there either, the pit in your stomach grew deeper. You knew what that probably meant.

You found yourself wandering back to the kitchen, your mind foggy but determined to drown out the ache with another drink. Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised to see you again. When you asked for yet another glass, he sighed deeply, a mixture of concern and frustration in his expression.

“This is your last one,” he warned, handing you the drink reluctantly. “You can’t handle much. I don’t want to have to carry you out of your own party.”

But Mark’s warning felt like a distant echo in your ears. By the time you were begging for a fourth drink, all caution had slipped away, and you couldn’t care less about the consequences. The music in the living room was thumping, laughter echoing like a cruel reminder of your current situation, and all you could feel was the weight of everything you couldn’t have — Jeno, your peace, the ability to not care.

“I already told you, no more drinks. You’re cut off,” Mark said, frustration clear in his voice. “I’ll get you some water instead.”

As he turned to open the fridge, you took your chance. The cold metal of a beer can brushed against your fingertips as you snatched it from the counter. You were so focused on your mission to drown out the pain that you didn’t notice Mark turning back toward you.

“y/n,” he snapped, his tone stern, “let go of the can. You’re going to regret this.”

You raised the can to your lips, but Mark was quicker. His hand reached out to grab it from you, and in the struggle, the can slipped from your grasp. The beer splashed everywhere — over your shirt, dripping down your arms, and pooling on the floor. The cold liquid seeped through your clothes, clinging to your skin, making you gasp at the sudden chill. Mark groaned, grabbing a napkin from the counter as you stood there, drenched, with a look of defiance still written across your face.

Undeterred, you tried to tilt the can toward your mouth, desperate to drink whatever was left inside, despite the mess. “Come on, y/n, you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” Mark sighed, exasperation laced in his tone as he managed to pry the can away for good this time.

The alcohol-soaked shirt clung to your body, the sticky sensation uncomfortable, but you were too far gone to care. The frustration bubbling inside wasn’t going to be soothed by just a drink anymore. You were angry, angry at Belle, at Jeno, at the fact that you had let yourself feel anything at all.

Before you could make another move, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, prying you away from the counter. You froze, looking up into the familiar dark eyes you’d been avoiding all night — Jeno.

The world felt like it stopped as Jeno glanced from you to Mark, his brows furrowed in mild concern. “Help me out here, Jen. She’s had too much already, and she won’t listen to me,” Mark said, his voice weary but relieved that someone else could take over.

Jeno’s gaze softened as he looked down at your soaked shirt, a mixture of amusement and concern crossing his face. He let out a small sigh, his grip gentle but firm as he took the can from your hand and replaced it with a bottle of water. “You’re done with the drinks for tonight, okay?” he said softly, his voice holding the same care you’d heard earlier.

Before you could protest, Jeno wrapped his arm around you, guiding you out of the kitchen, away from the noise and the eyes of your curious friends. The walk to your room was a blur, but the warmth of his hand on your waist kept you grounded, even as the alcohol swirled in your system.

The sight of Belle sobbing into someone’s shoulder as you passed through the hallway barely registered in your hazy mind. You were too focused on the warmth of Jeno’s presence beside you, the way his touch lingered longer than necessary, as if he was anchoring you.

Once in your room, Jeno gently guided you to sit on the edge of your bed, his touch careful as if he was afraid you might fall over. His eyes roamed over your beer-soaked clothes, a soft chuckle escaping him. “You’re a mess,” he teased, though his voice held no judgment. If anything, it was laced with concern, the kind of worry that felt warm and comforting instead of scolding.

You glanced down at yourself, wincing as you finally took in the state of your shirt. The beer stains were obvious now, dark patches clinging to the fabric and sticking to your skin in an uncomfortable way. You grimaced, the sticky sensation making you feel even more self-conscious. The alcohol had dulled the sharpness of your embarrassment, but not entirely. A faint blush crept up your cheeks as you mumbled, “I should change…”

You attempted to push yourself off the bed, but your limbs were heavy, sluggish from the alcohol coursing through your system. Your balance wavered, and you nearly stumbled forward before Jeno’s hand gently pressed on your shoulder, keeping you steady.

Without saying a word, he crossed the room to your closet, rummaging through the clothes until he found one of your oversized t-shirts. He walked back to you with that same quiet focus, kneeling down to your level, holding the clean shirt in his hands. His gaze met yours for a moment, and something in his expression made your heart skip a beat.

“Here,” Jeno said softly, his voice just above a whisper. “Let me help.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers reached for the hem of your beer-stained shirt. He moved slowly, giving you plenty of time to object, to stop him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The closeness of him, the way his eyes held nothing but tenderness. It was like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving just the two of you in this charged, intimate bubble.

Jeno’s hands were careful as he lifted the fabric, peeling it away from your sticky skin with a precision that made your pulse quicken. The cool air hit you, contrasting the warmth of his touch. Every time his fingers brushed your arms, it sent shivers through you. It wasn’t overtly intimate, but the care he took in making sure you were comfortable made the moment feel far more meaningful than it should have.

Once your shirt was off, he handed you the fresh one, his eyes deliberately focused anywhere but your body, giving you the privacy to finish. You quickly pulled the oversized shirt over your head, feeling the soft cotton fabric glide down. Your cheeks burned, not from the alcohol, but from the way Jeno’s thoughtfulness had disarmed you, leaving your heart racing in its wake.

When you were finally settled in your clean shirt, Jeno took a step back, his hands awkwardly fumbling at his sides, unsure of what to do next. “Better?” he asked, his voice quiet but sincere.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The warmth pooling in your chest wasn’t just from the remnants of alcohol, but from the way Jeno had cared for you, so gentle and attentive. The kindness in his actions made your emotions swirl even more intensely.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you heavy with something unspoken. The room felt smaller with Jeno in it, the atmosphere charged with a new kind of tension. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. If anything, it felt safe. Like he was there to make sure you were okay, to take care of you, in a way that made your heart feel lighter despite the whirlwind of the night.

Jeno’s eyes flicked from the bed to you, a soft concern still lacing his gaze. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long night.”

You climbed under the covers, feeling the exhaustion settling into your bones now that the noise of the party was long behind you. As you laid down, Jeno lingered by your side for a moment, his hand briefly brushing your shoulder before he moved to sit at your desk. His presence filled the room, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Jeno?” your voice came out as a soft murmur, barely loud enough to reach him, but he turned to you right away.

“Yeah?”

You hesitated for a moment before whispering, “Thanks… for everything.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, the soft light in your room making his features look even kinder than usual. “Get some sleep, y/n. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

You closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to process what was happening. Jeno was in your room. The Jeno. The one who was always surrounded by friends, admired by so many. The same Jeno your best friend had been talking about for months, and the one you, slowly but surely, had found yourself falling for.

The alcohol still buzzed in your veins, loosening your inhibitions just enough to make you bolder than usual. This was your chance, maybe Mark had been right all along. Jeno was here, with you, taking care of you in ways that felt like more than just friendly concern. Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t imagining the way he stayed close tonight, the way his eyes lingered a little longer.

It was now or never.

The air in the room felt heavy, thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Jeno sat at your desk, his steady gaze unreadable as you shifted under the covers, a mix of nervousness and warmth blooming in your chest. The alcohol had numbed your inhibitions, but the electricity between you both was impossible to ignore.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to ground yourself in the fabric, though it did little to help. “It’s cold,” you mumbled, barely audible, your voice betraying the hint of vulnerability you didn’t want to show. In truth, the room was a bit chilly, but more than anything, you longed for his presence next to you. The space between you felt far too wide, like an unspoken barrier you didn’t know how to cross without risking everything.

Jeno’s eyes flickered toward you, his hesitation lingering in the silence that stretched between you. After a beat, he stood up from the desk, his movements slow and deliberate, as if carefully weighing each step. Your breath hitched as he approached, and your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation curling in your stomach.

Wordlessly, Jeno slid under the covers beside you, his warmth instantly chasing away the cold. His scent, a comforting mix of cologne and something undeniably him, wrapped around you, making your head spin. Instinctively, you leaned into him, your head finding its place against his chest. His arm moved naturally around you, pulling you closer, and you melted into the embrace, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek.

With Jeno’s warmth cocooning you, the outside world felt like a distant dream. The party’s once-loud music had faded into a faint murmur, barely audible over the sound of his steady breathing. Every now and then, his breath grazed your hair, sending tiny shivers down your spine. You stayed perfectly still, afraid that even the slightest movement would break this fragile moment, this perfect stillness.

“Is it still cold?” Jeno’s voice was low, a gentle murmur that seemed to sink into your very bones.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you pressed yourself closer to him, allowing the exhaustion of the night to wash over you. “Not anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. His arm tightened around you in response, as if silently saying that he wasn’t going anywhere. That, even just for tonight, you had him.

The soft light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room, its dim shadows creating a cozy, intimate space that felt removed from reality. The world beyond your bedroom door seemed to slow, leaving only the two of you in this quiet bubble, suspended in time. You found yourself wishing that you could capture this feeling forever, keep this warmth and peace bottled up in your heart.

Jeno’s hand rested on your waist, his fingers moving in slow, absentminded circles over the fabric of your shirt. His touch was so gentle, so careful, that it sent little sparks dancing across your skin. It wasn’t just the alcohol making you dizzy; it was the tenderness in every brush of his fingers, the way he held you like you were something delicate.

“You’re always running around, taking care of everyone,” he murmured softly, his words carrying a weight that tugged at your heart. “Who takes care of you, y/n?”

His question hung in the air, the raw sincerity in his voice cutting through you. A lump formed in your throat, and you blinked rapidly to keep the sudden tears at bay. You hadn’t expected him to say something like that. Who did take care of you? For as long as you could remember, you were the one who held everything together, the one who put everyone else’s needs before your own. But in this moment, with Jeno’s arms wrapped around you, it felt like someone was finally seeing past all of that—seeing you.

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you admitted the truth aloud. “I guess I’m just used to it.”

Jeno shifted beside you, his body pressing closer, his breath now warm against your ear. “You deserve more than that,” he said softly, his voice low and earnest, each word landing like a promise. “You deserve someone who’ll take care of you, too.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you swallowed hard, trying to hold back the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. His words felt too good, too perfect, and a part of you was afraid to believe them. Afraid to believe that someone like Jeno could really see you like that, could want to take care of you.

Still, in this moment, wrapped in his warmth, you allowed yourself to pretend — to imagine, if only for tonight, that this could be your reality. That Jeno could be yours.

His thumb traced another slow circle on your side, his touch so gentle it was almost hypnotic. “I don’t want you to forget tonight,” he whispered, his voice even quieter now, like he was sharing a secret meant just for you.

You turned in his arms, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes locked with his. There was something in his gaze, something soft and unspoken, that made your heart race. His face was inches from yours, his breath warm on your skin, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stop altogether.

You swallowed, the words escaping you before you could think twice. “What if I do?”

For a moment, Jeno’s expression darkened, his gaze flicking down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. Then, in a movement so gentle it felt like a dream, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The contact sent a shiver through you, your whole body reacting to the warmth of his touch.

“Then I’ll remind you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice barely above a whisper.

The night blurred into a series of quiet moments. Soft touches, shared whispers, and a closeness that felt too tender, too fragile to belong to the real world. You could have stayed in that moment forever, tangled in Jeno’s warmth, pretending that the world outside didn’t exist.

But, as always, reality had a way of creeping back in.

Jeno’s phone buzzed on the desk beside him, the soft vibrations shattering the stillness. He sighed, his arm loosening from around you as he reached for the phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his face. You watched as his brows furrowed, his expression tense as he scrolled through the dozens of missed calls and messages.

“Shit,” he muttered, sitting up, his warmth slipping away from you entirely.

The cold rushed in immediately, filling the space where Jeno had been, and your heart sank. You knew what was coming next.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, already knowing the answer but dreading hearing it aloud.

Jeno ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. “The guys… They’ve been calling me nonstop. I told them I’d leave with them, they’re my only ride home.” His voice was tinged with regret, but beneath it, you could sense the guilt.

You forced a smile, trying to mask the disappointment that was tightening in your chest. “It’s fine,” you lied, propping yourself up on your elbow. “You should go.”

Jeno glanced down at his phone again, then back at you, his jaw tightening as he hesitated. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said quietly, his voice thick with the conflict swirling inside him.

You shook your head, the ache in your chest growing. “I’ll be okay,” you whispered, your words feeling hollow. “Really. Go.”

For a fleeting moment, you held onto the hope that Jeno might stay. The way he looked at you, his eyes searching your face with an intensity that made your heart race, felt like a promise unspoken. But then the phone buzzed again, shattering the delicate moment. You watched as his resolve shifted, the warmth in his gaze giving way to a distant sadness.

With a heavy sigh, he rose from the bed, the fabric of the moment tearing slightly as he slipped his phone into his pocket. The air around you felt colder, thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions, as if the very room held its breath. Just before he reached the door, he hesitated, turning back to you one last time. His eyes softened as they met yours, and he stepped back toward the bed, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. It was soft and lingering, yet it carried the weight of finality.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he whispered, his breath brushing against your skin, leaving a warmth that contrasted the chill that enveloped you after he left.

And then, he was gone.

The weekend stretched endlessly, an expanse of silence that felt like an aching void where his presence had been. No calls. No texts. Just the stark absence of his warmth and the echo of the night you had shared. With each passing hour, the memory of Jeno’s embrace faded, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts and an unsettling sense of regret.

You spent the next two days trapped in a loop of memories, replaying every moment over and over. The way he looked at you with such intensity, the way he held you close, the sincerity in his voice when he told you that you deserved better. You ached to reach out to him, to check if he still remembered the fleeting magic of that night. But every time you reached for your phone, a wave of fear stopped you cold. The thought of his response, what he might say or, worse, what he might not say, paralyzed you.

By the time Monday rolled around, you had convinced yourself that maybe it was better this way. Pretending nothing had happened would be the safest path. After all, he would slip back into his life with friends, back to the way things were before, and you would have to bear the weight of your choices alone.

As you stepped through the school doors, you immediately felt the weight of stares bearing down on you. Whispers trailed you down the hall like a shadow, and you quickly pieced together the rumors that had spread like wildfire. Word had gotten out about you and Jeno, and Belle had undoubtedly heard every detail.

It wasn’t long before she found you. Standing by your locker, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, her glare twisted your stomach into knots.

“I can’t believe you, Y/N,” Belle hissed, her voice sharp and full of venom. “You promised me you’d be there for me. You said you’d help me with Jeno, and instead, you—” She cut herself off, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.

You swallowed hard, guilt and shame coiling tightly in your chest. “Belle, I—”

“No,” she interrupted, her eyes flashing with hurt. “Don’t. Don’t act like you didn’t know. Everyone’s talking about how you left the party together. You think I didn’t see the way he looks at you?”

Your heart plummeted, a heavy weight in your stomach. You longed to explain, to articulate that it hadn’t been what it looked like, that you hadn’t intended for any of it to happen. But deep down, you knew the truth: you had crossed a line, and no amount of explanation would erase the breach of trust.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“It’s not fair. I was so close to having him, Y/N. I was right there, and then you had to ruin it for me.” Belle’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her expression hardened like ice. “You’re a liar. You promised to help,” she spat coldly, turning away from you. “You’re no better than the rest of them. Maybe you should’ve tried harder not to ruin everything.”

And just like that, she walked away, leaving you with the sharp sting of her betrayal echoing in the silence behind her.

You stood there, frozen, as the world around you faded into a blurry haze of whispers and judgmental stares. The hallway stretched out longer than usual, each step feeling like an uphill battle against the suffocating air thick with unspoken words. You could almost see the rumours swirling like storm clouds, brewing around you as classmates shot knowing glances. Some gleeful, others disdainful, while they whispered behind your back, oblivious to the truth.

You made it through the day by shrinking into yourself, avoiding everyone as if they were fragments of glass waiting to cut you. Each laugh from a group nearby felt like a mockery, reminding you of how the moments you shared with Jeno now felt like scattered shards, impossible to clean up without inflicting wounds on your heart. Every time you caught a glimpse of him in the halls, your chest tightened as his eyes flicked toward you for just a fleeting second before looking away, as if that one shared night had evaporated into thin air. Maybe it had for him.

The days following that night passed under a strange, silent agreement between you and Jeno. Neither of you acknowledged what had happened. No messages. No lingering glances. No awkward conversations. It was as if you had both silently decided that pretending it hadn’t meant anything was the easiest way to cope. But you couldn't shake the feeling that, to him, it truly hadn’t.

At school, Jeno slipped seamlessly back into the rhythm of his life, surrounded by his friends, laughter pouring from their mouths as if nothing had changed. He blended effortlessly into the crowd of popular kids, exuding an air of confidence that was painfully absent in you. Later, you overheard snippets of their conversations, casual, dismissive remarks. “She’s not worth it, man. You could do way better,” Haechan chuckled, as if your very existence was a punchline. Jeno merely shrugged, his indifference cutting deeper than any blade. “It was nothing.”

The words pierced through your carefully constructed defences, more painful than you could have anticipated. They shouldn’t have stung; after all, you had spent the entire weekend convincing yourself that you didn’t care, that it was just a fleeting moment. But those three words echoed in your mind, a relentless mantra: It was nothing.

Still, you played your part. Whenever you passed him in the halls or found yourself near his group during lunch, you donned a mask of indifference so convincingly that you almost started to believe it yourself. You laughed with your other friends, pretended to focus in class, and convinced yourself that forgetting was the best option. You were adept at pretending, had to be, but that night continued to linger, haunting you like a bittersweet melody you couldn't silence.

The only person who seemed to peel back your façade was Mark. You never spoke about that night directly, but he could read between the lines. He noticed the way your gaze avoided Jeno, how your laughter felt forced, and how your smile no longer reached your eyes.

One afternoon, when the weight of everything felt too heavy to bear, you found yourself gravitating toward Mark. He sat on the grass at the edge of the soccer field, scribbling furiously in his notebook. You dropped down beside him, the warmth of the sun contrasting with the cold ache in your chest. He looked up, brow raised, but he didn’t say anything right away, giving you space to breathe.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” you finally admitted, staring into the distance as the horizon blurred with your emotions.

Mark closed his notebook, shifting his full attention to you. “Want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling inside you. “Not really. Just… everything’s a mess.”

He didn’t press you, but his unwavering gaze bore into you, his concern palpable. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I can tell you’re not okay.”

The tightness in your chest intensified at his words, and you forced a laugh that felt hollow. “It’s not a big deal. I barely even remember that night, anyway.”

Mark didn’t buy it. He never did. “You don’t have to lie to me. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay too.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with all the unsaid things that hung heavy in the air. You stared at the ground, fighting the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“Jeno didn’t say anything, did he?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could hold it back.

Mark sighed, leaning back on his hands. “He’s pretending it never happened, too. His friends… Well, they’re being assholes, like always. Told him he could do better. You know how they are.”

You nodded, the weight of disappointment sinking deeper into your bones. Of course they would say that. Of course Jeno would follow their lead. It was easier to dismiss the connection you had shared, to act like you hadn’t been wrapped up in each other, sharing warmth and vulnerability in a way that felt almost sacred.

Sensing your shift in mood, Mark nudged your shoulder lightly, offering a small smile. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend to understand what’s going on in Jeno’s head. But you deserve better than this, better than being some secret he feels like he has to hide.”

His words wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, yet they only amplified the ache in your heart. You wished it didn’t hurt so much, wished you could just move on like Jeno seemed to. But the truth was, that night had meant something to you. Even if you shouldn’t have felt that way, even if you tried to convince yourself otherwise, it did.

It wasn’t just the gossip or the whispers that hurt; it was the entire situation. The reality that you had gotten swept up in something so fleeting, yet so consuming. You felt like you were living on a stage, where every move was scrutinised, turned into something larger than life. Belle, Jeno, his friends; they were all part of that act, and now, so were you. You thought back to the party, to the fragile intimacy you had shared with Jeno, the way you had intertwined your lives for a moment. But the harsh reality was that it hadn’t been real. Not for him.

When you got home, you collapsed onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling, its familiar texture suddenly feeling foreign and oppressive. The quiet of your room suffocated you, amplifying the echoes of whispers and judgment that had followed you all day. It should have been a relief to escape the chaos, but instead, it was a stark reminder of how alone you felt. Gone were the masks and the laughter; all that remained was the haunting silence, thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

Your phone buzzed, and for a fleeting moment, hope flickered inside you. Maybe it was Jeno, maybe he finally had something to say, something that could bridge the chasm that had formed between you two. But as you glanced down, the screen illuminated a message from Mark instead.

Mark: How you holding up?

You stared at the words, the glow of the screen casting a pale light over your uncertainty. Mark had always been the one to see beyond your carefully constructed façade, the only person who didn’t press for answers you weren’t ready to give. His concern was palpable even through the digital barrier, but the weight of your own feelings made it hard to respond.

You: I don’t know.

The reply felt painfully inadequate, a thin veil over the storm churning inside you. You tossed your phone aside, pulling your knees up to your chest, as if trying to protect your heart from the world outside. What did you even want at this point? Jeno wasn’t coming back to fix things, and Belle was probably rehearsing her next round of accusations. You felt caught in a strange, uncomfortable limbo, yearning to forget while being unable to erase the vivid memories of that night.

In the days that followed, you had tried to convince yourself the night with Jeno was nothing more than a fleeting mistake, a moment spurred by alcohol and the warmth of the moment. But now, as the realization washed over you, it became painfully clear: you had wanted it to mean something more. You craved the way he looked at you that night—not with the haze of drunken affection, but with something deeper, something that could fill the void you felt inside.

But he didn’t. He never would.

You remained motionless on your bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, feeling the silence stretch around you like a shroud. Your phone buzzed again, probably Mark checking in, but you couldn’t muster the energy to respond. The weight of your decisions pressed heavily on your chest, reminding you of the loss that had settled in your heart.

You had lost your best friend, sacrificed your bond with Belle for something ephemeral, and now, you were left to pick up the pieces alone. And maybe that was what hurt the most. The realization that in the end, none of it had felt real. Not the intimate moments shared with Jeno, not the friendship you had thought you could count on with Belle. Everything felt built on a shaky foundation, fragile and destined to crumble.

As you lay there, you reached for your phone, hoping to drown out the noise in your head with music. You scrolled through your playlist, searching for anything that could take you away from this moment. And then it started, the familiar notes of Crush Culture by Conan Gray filled the room, wrapping around you like a bittersweet embrace.

With each lyric, you felt a rush of recognition that hit you like a truck. Crush culture makes me wanna spill my guts out. The words resonated deeply, echoing the tumult of emotions swirling inside you. It was as if Conan had taken the scattered pieces of your heart and crafted them into a song, pulling at the very strings of your soul.

The lines about fleeting moments, unreciprocated feelings, and the pain of wanting something that was never truly yours surged through you. You closed your eyes, allowing the music to wash over you, each note igniting memories of that night with Jeno. The way he held you, the laughter you shared, the promises whispered in the dark. But with each line, the weight of reality crashed down harder, reminding you of the distance that had grown between you since then.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the catharsis almost overwhelming as the song played on. You could feel every word burrowing into your heart, every melody capturing the longing you tried to hide. This wasn’t just about Jeno; it was about everything you had lost, everything you had poured into moments that turned out to be nothing but illusions.

And in that moment, you felt a fragile clarity. You might be lost now, but you wouldn’t stay that way forever. The lyrics continued to echo around you, each syllable a promise that you would find a way through the pain, that you could reclaim your voice, your heart, and maybe, just maybe, discover what it meant to feel whole again.

As the song faded into silence, you lay back against your pillows, allowing the tears to flow freely. It was time to face the truth, to embrace the chaos of your emotions, and to start piecing together a new beginning. And with that thought, you closed your eyes, a flicker of hope igniting within you. A hope that lingered long after the last notes faded away.

[buckgasms]

Bucky with a reader who reads smutty books?

She's perfected a straight face reading technique for when she's sat in public reading filth. Bucky thinks she reads innocent shit like fairy tales or soemthing so he buys her books like that (she loves his effort but finds them so boring that they live perminantley on the shelf in their living room).

One day she leaves the book open in the living room while she pops to the toilet and he picks it up to see what all the fuss is about. She comes back to him blushing like mad on the sofa reading the smuttiest smut of all smut and looking up at her like 😳 "this your sorta thing huh?" And while he isn't jealous that she reads that he finds it strange that she hid it from him. He asks her to show him what she finds so hot about it and they get to baby making ;)

-🐰

Hey 🐰! Hope you've been ok?

Yes I like this very much. I'm picturing a sort of Avengers Bucky boyfriend because we know what happens when Daddy finds Princess' smutty book 🫣

I imagine the confusion starts because all the covers have various fairytale-esque pictures. You'd just need to look a bit closer to realise they were slightly off!

When he asks why you didn't mention it, you just ramble about how you didn't want to be weird and if he thought it was too kinky or whatever you were happy to just keep it to yourself.

He just tuts, flipping through the pages and reads the bit you just were. I'm imagining it's a red riding hood book where the big bad wolf is eating her, but just in a very different way.

"Wow. He's really working on her there huh? And you keep a straight face when you're reading this stuff?"

You giggle and nod but he keeps flicking through and you sense that perhaps he's a little miffed about something. So you crawl over and climb into his lap, throwing the book to one side.

"Are you mad about my book Bucky?" You say softly, running your hands over his chest and rolling your hips gently.

He grunts a little and can't resist holding on to your hips and squeezing gently at your waist.

"No" he pouts, "just wish you woulda told me you like that stuff... Coulda been doing...." He peters off but you can't let that slide.

"Wait, could have been doing what Bucky? You wanna be my big bad wolf?" You grip his face and lean down to kiss him, not missing the way his hips push upwards, enjoying the way his fingers stroke down your neck and move to grip your waist.

"I dunno, what is it you want me to do?"

You sit back on his lap and grab the book, flicking through as he massages little circles on your hips.

"Well I guess in this one... He chases her a little, and rips her dress off.... Oh and there's a bit where he pins her down and yknow...licks at her..."

You look up from the book and see Bucky staring at you with a devilish look in his eyes.

"Well then little red, you better get running..."

You giggle but he pulls you in closer and whispers in your ear, "or I'll fuck ya right here..." Before scraping his teeth across your soft skin.

You squeal as you leap from his lap and pelt down the corridor to the lift that will take you to your floor. You see him coming round the corner as you make it, slamming on the 'close door' button as he approaches, a big grin on his face.

You sigh as the doors slide shut and then you have the agonising wait to reach your floor. It's only a few floors down, but you wonder how long it will take him to catch up.

Before you have much time then doors slide open and the corridor is eerily quiet. You can't hear any sound other than the low hum of the lift.

You tentatively step out and make to run to your shared apartment with Bucky. You get a few steps to the door when you feel a metal hand grip your mouth and a strong arm wrap around your waist, holding you tight.

"Gotcha..."

📚

He ripped your dress to pieces and pinned you down on the floor, barely making it into the apartment before he was dragging your heat to his face and devouring you. All you could do was cling to the rug as he sucked, nibbled and licked at your sensitive folds.

He carries his prize to the bedroom and puts you on your knees, ass in the air and places your book in front of you.

"Read it. Out loud..."

You flush furiously as you hear his zipper being pulled down and the mattress dip as he settles behind you.

As you begin to read his cock is dragged along your pussy, teasing you and torturing you as you struggle to read.

"Buckkky..." You whine as he presses his leaking tip just a little inside, but he stops and lands so swats onto your ass.

"Come on babygirl, I wanna know what happens. I'm pretty invested in the plotline now yknow..."

You pant and moan but manage to keep reading, describing how the wolf/man fucks the heroine, claiming her body as his, biting and bruising her delicate body. His big cock stretching her wide, hitting parts that no one has been able to before.

The book falls from your grip as he pounds into you. It was a bit of a head rush to have your incredibly hot boyfriend enacting smut and you let out a long, happy moan as he pulls you upwards, spearing his cock deeper, hitting more sensitive places with unrelenting lust.

"Oh my god Bucky.... Please, can I come please?"

He growls in your ear and uses his metal hand to grip your throat, squeezing slightly making your eyes roll. You cling onto the cool metal for dear life, as you crash into your peak, screaming out for him.

You both fall forward, Bucky managing to prop himself up to avoid squishing you, but as your walls continue to flutter around him, he can't hold himself any longer and falls down on top of you.

You giggle and wiggle until you have him resting on your chest, fingers running through his hair as he presses kisses to your soft skin.

📚

Omg imagine if this happened 🫣 also I may need to go back to writing ABO stuff because 🤤

[emjayewrites]

Green With Envy - Jules Kounde

SYNOPSIS: Jules' girl doesn't like all of the attention he's getting at Paris Fashion Week, so he'll have to convince her that he's hers and only hers.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x fem!black!reader

WARNINGS: cursing, explicit smut. MINORS DNI!!!

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @perfecttrashface @peyiswriting @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0 @elyseesarchive @f1-football-fiend

A/N: I've been inspired recently. Enjoy.

Jules had been getting attention all night.

The moment the two of you walked into the Messika show for Paris Fashion Week, you could feel the eyes on him—on both of you—but mostly on him. Women in the audience whispered, some not even bothering to be discreet as they watched him in his perfectly tailored trousers and that damn draped satin shirt that hugged his frame just right. The fabric glistened under the soft lighting, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean waist. And why wouldn’t they? He looked like he’d just stepped off a runway himself, his locs freshly twisted and falling perfectly over his forehead, framing his sharp jawline that was more striking than ever in the ambient glow of the event.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear during the show, his breath warm against your skin. “You good, bébé?” His voice was low and intimate, but the attention surrounding him made your stomach twist.

You forced a smile, nodding, but inside, you were fuming. It wasn’t him—it was them. The women thirsting after your man, acting like you didn’t exist as they openly ogled him, their eyes filled with a mix of admiration and envy. Their hushed conversations were a cacophony of longing, and the way they leaned forward in their seats, straining to catch another glimpse of him, only added fuel to the fire of your jealousy. Even online, you knew the comments were wild, your phone buzzing non-stop with mentions of Jules’ presence at the show. Each notification felt like a jab, a reminder of how easily they could forget you were right there beside him.

“Are you sure you’re good?” Jules asked again, his hand resting on your thigh, sensing the tension radiating from you. His thumb brushed over your skin in slow, calming circles, an effort to ease your frustration, but the touch only made the simmering jealousy worse. You knew it wasn’t fair to feel this way—Jules wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was always clear that he was yours and only yours, a fact he reiterated with every kiss and every possessive glance. But the burning jealousy still gripped you tight, a knot of insecurity forming in your chest as you watched the other women flirt and fawn over him.

As the show came to an end, the lights dimmed and applause erupted, but the crowd continued to linger, and as you stood to leave, another woman’s gaze lingered far too long on him. Her eyes raked over him, and Jules caught it, smirking as if he relished the attention. He placed a possessive hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the exit, a silent declaration of ownership that sent a mix of pride and irritation coursing through you. His subtle way of letting everyone know who he belonged to didn’t stop the clench in your chest, though; if anything, it only deepened your frustration.

In the car ride back to the hotel, the tension bubbled over, and you couldn’t keep it in any longer. “You know, I could’ve sworn some of these girls thought they had a chance tonight,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, but the edge of jealousy was impossible to hide.

Jules glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly as he processed your words. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t see the way they were looking at you? The way they didn’t care that I was right there?” Your voice wavered slightly, a mixture of annoyance and vulnerability creeping in as you struggled to articulate your feelings.

Jules chuckled, shaking his head, a teasing smile still dancing on his lips. “Bébé, I don’t care about any of them.” His easygoing tone was meant to soothe you, but it only made the frustration simmer deeper.

You huffed, crossing your arms defiantly, the tension in your body evident. “It didn’t look like it,” you shot back, unable to mask the bite in your voice. The laughter and playful banter that had filled the car moments ago felt like a distant memory as the weight of your jealousy hung heavy between you.

His laughter faded abruptly, and the air in the car shifted, thickening with unspoken words. Jules’ gaze darkened, the playful glint replaced by something more serious. His jaw set tight, and he turned toward you, his expression intense. “You think I care about what any of them think? About how they look at me?” His voice was low, almost dangerous, each word deliberate as if he were trying to penetrate through your frustration.

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks under the intensity of his stare. “I just—” you began, but the words caught in your throat, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to express your feelings.

“I don’t give a fuck about them,” he cut you off, his voice firm and unyielding. There was a rawness to his tone that sent a spark of heat through you, igniting a mix of emotions—desire, possessiveness. “All I care about is you.”

The rest of the car ride was silent, the tension thick between you. But as soon as the door to your hotel suite shut behind you, Jules was on you, his lips crashing into yours, hot and urgent. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against his body, and you could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh.

“You think I care about them?” he growled against your lips, his breath hot, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he kissed you with a hunger that made your head spin. “You think I want anyone but you?”

“Jules…” you gasped, your hands clinging to his shoulders, but he wasn’t giving you a chance to speak. His lips were on your neck now, sucking, nipping at your skin in a way that made your knees buckle.

He didn’t stop. “You’re mine,” he muttered, his hands slipping beneath your dress, roughly pulling it up over your hips. “And I’m yours. Always.”

Your breath hitched as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down, his body pressing into yours. His dark, hooded eyes were locked on yours, filled with nothing but raw desire.

“You need me to prove it to you?” Jules asked, his voice low and rough as he undid his belt, letting his trousers drop to the floor. His shirt was still on, clinging to his muscular frame, but the sight of him half-dressed was even more erotic than if he’d been naked.

You bit your lip, nodding, your body already aching for him. “Show me.”

Jules didn’t waste a second. His hands moved quickly, yanking your dress down, your bra and panties following soon after. When you were bare beneath him, he paused for a moment, his eyes roaming your body like he was drinking you in. Then he was on you again, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them.

He thrust into you hard, no preamble, just filling you completely with his thick dick. The stretch of him inside you had your back arching, a loud moan escaping your lips as your nails dug into his back through his shirt.

“Say it,” he growled, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with deep, relentless strokes. The bed creaked beneath you as the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your hands clenching in the silky fabric of his shirt, your breath coming in ragged pants as he fucked you deeper, his dick hitting spots that made your vision blur.

“And who am I?” he asked, his voice low, almost a snarl, his pace quickening as his thrusts became more erratic, more desperate.

“You’re mine,” you whispered, your voice trembling, your body teetering on the edge of release.

“That’s right,” he grunted, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders, bending you almost in half as he drove into you harder, deeper, the new angle making you cry out as he hit that spot inside you over and over again.

“Fuck, Jules!” you screamed, your body shaking as the pressure inside you built, your orgasm so close you could taste it.

“You’re mine,” he growled again, his teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder as he pounded into you, his thrusts wild now, reckless. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours!” you moaned, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm ripped through you, your entire body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Jules followed you over the edge, his grip on your hips bruising as he gave one final, deep thrust before he came, groaning your name as he filled you, his body collapsing onto yours.

For a moment, the two of you just lay there, your bodies tangled together, your breathing heavy. Then Jules pulled out of you, flipping you over onto your stomach.

“You thought I was done?” he muttered, his voice still thick with lust as he pushed your ass up, positioning you on all fours.

“Jules, baby…” you gasped, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm as he slid his dick back inside you, his hands gripping your hips as he fucked you from behind, harder this time, faster.

His grip was possessive, his pace punishing as he drove into you, the sound of your bodies crashing together echoing through the room. You could feel every inch of him, his length stretching you in ways that had your head spinning.

“You’ll never have to worry about anyone else,” he growled, a wicked grin on his face as his hand came down to slap your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp.

“Fuck!” you cried out, your body trembling again as he fucked you, your mind going blank from the pleasure. Jules pressed his hand against your face, burying you deeper into the mattress as he positioned his foot near you for a better angle. The pressure on your throat was just enough, not enough to stop your airway but enough to have your eyes rolling back from the overwhelming sensation. His free hand dug into the flesh of your ass, the heat radiating off his body mixing with the sweat that dripped down onto you, sliding between your ass cheeks and thighs.

“Look at you,” he rasped, thrusting deeper, harder, the primal rhythm sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The moans escaping your lips filled the room, mingling with the sound of skin slapping against skin. "Tu es magnifique...."

He continued to ramble off in French, but you were too focused on the coil within your stomach that threatened to come apart. Just when you felt yourself teetering on the edge of your second orgasm, he pulled out, leaving you gasping for more.

“Turn around, ma belle. Open your mouth.”

Completely sex-dazed, you obeyed, stumbling to kneel in front of him as he stroked his dick, his eyes dark with desire. You watched him, entranced, as he released himself, his hot cum coming in spurts, splattering on your face and neck.

He held the reddened tip near your mouth, and without hesitation, your tongue came out, eager to lick off every drop of his essence, tasting the saltiness that was uniquely him. The moment felt electric, every bit of your submission feeding into the raw connection between you two.

Jules smirked down at you, his breath heavy and uneven, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “That’s my girl,” he said, the satisfaction evident in his voice as you savored every moment, every taste. “I meant what I said,” he whispered softly. “I’m all yours, bébé.”

You smiled, your heart finally at ease. “Good,” you whispered back, wiping off your chin with the back of your hand. “Because I’m not sharing.”

[novaursa]

Here's my request: Aerion Brightflame has always been creepily obsessed with his shy quiet sister who has always been scared of him due to his treatment of her. He is determined to take her as his perfect Targaryen bride but he already knows that his family will likely turn down his idea of marrying her. So he decides to sneak into her chambers one late night to claim her as his knowing his family will likely have no other choice but to wed her to him after he sullied her.

When questioned about the incident the next day, being the liar that he is, Aerion tells everyone that his sister came onto him and being the kind caring older brother he is he couldn't reject her. His sister tries to say what really happened but Aerion claims that she's lying because she's too ashamed to admit to her behavior the night before. Their father Maekar has always been willfully ignorant of Aerion's true behavior and so he hesitantly believes Aerion's version of events and lets Aerion wed his sister much to his sister's horror.

Consumed by the Dragon

- Summary: Aerion coveted you since he was a boy, and like the dragon he believed himself to be, he took you.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aerion Targaryen (Brightflame)

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (Aerion is warning just being him)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The corridors of Summerhall are dimly lit as you make your way back to your chambers. The evening air is cool, and you pull your shawl tighter around your shoulders, your footsteps echoing in the empty hall. You’ve always preferred the quiet, the solitude of being alone with your thoughts. Here, away from the prying eyes of the court and the watchful gaze of your parents, you can breathe freely, without the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

But tonight, the silence feels different. Heavy. As if the shadows themselves are watching, waiting.

You turn a corner, your heart skipping a beat when you see him leaning casually against the wall, his hair glowing faintly in the torchlight. Aerion. Your brother, your tormentor. His presence in the quiet hallway feels out of place, as though he has stepped out of a nightmare and into your reality.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice low and smooth, a serpentine hiss that slithers through the darkness. His smile is a slash of white teeth, predatory and hungry. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Your heart pounds, your instincts screaming at you to turn and run, but your feet are rooted to the ground, as if the stone itself has come alive and trapped you in place. “Aerion,” you manage to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

He pushes off the wall, taking a slow, deliberate step towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. “I was looking for you, little sister,” he murmurs, his tone deceptively gentle. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

There’s something in his gaze, a darkness that makes your skin prickle with unease. You take a step back, your shoulders pressing against the cold stone behind you. “It’s late,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound calm. “I should go.”

“Don’t be so hasty.” He moves closer, his body looming over yours, the heat of him seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. His hand comes up, fingers brushing your cheek, trailing down to your neck, your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his touch. “You’re always running from me, Y/N. Why is that?”

Your breath hitches, your mind racing for an excuse, for anything that will get you away from him. “I’m not—”

“Liar.” His voice is soft, a mocking whisper, as his fingers trail lower, skimming the neckline of your dress. “You’re always so frightened. But I would never hurt you, little dragon. You’re too precious for that.”

The endearment, so similar to the words he will use years later, sends a shiver down your spine, dread pooling in your belly. You try to push his hand away, but he catches your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Aerion, please...”

He leans in, his breath warm against your ear, and the words he whispers make your blood run cold. “Do you know what I am, little sister? I’m a dragon, trapped in human flesh. I can feel the fire burning inside me, the power coursing through my veins.” His voice is a dark, dangerous purr, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “One day, I’ll unleash it all. I’ll set the world ablaze, and you... you’ll be right there beside me. My queen. My consort.”

You tremble, your heart thudding painfully against your ribs as he continues, his words wrapping around you like chains. “You and I, we’re meant to be together. Blood of the dragon, bound by fire and flesh. When I am king, you’ll rule at my side. We’ll burn anyone who dares stand against us.”

He’s so close, his body pressing against yours, his scent—smoke and something sharp, metallic—filling your senses, making your head spin. His hand slips lower, his fingers grazing the curve of your breast, and you flinch, panic clawing at your throat.

“Aerion, no—” You try to twist away, but he pins you in place, his hand tightening around your wrist, his body a solid wall of heat and strength. He laughs softly, a low, wicked sound that vibrates through you.

“Shh, little dragon,” he whispers, his lips brushing your neck, sending a wave of revulsion and something else—something dark and unwanted—through you. “You’ll see. You’ll love it, just as I do.” His free hand roams lower, his touch burning through the fabric of your dress, and you gasp, your body rigid with fear and confusion.

He murmurs in your ear, his voice a dark, twisted lullaby. “I’ll make you mine, Y/N. I’ll teach you things that will make your pretty little head spin. I’ll make you scream my name, beg for me to touch you.” His words are crude, filthy, the things he describes making your cheeks burn, your stomach churn with a sick mixture of dread and something you can’t name, something that makes you feel like you’re falling, spinning out of control.

His hand cups you between your legs, his fingers pressing against you through the fabric, and you cry out, your body jerking against his. “Please, stop,” you beg, your voice breaking, tears stinging your eyes.

But he only chuckles, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles, his gaze fixed on your face, watching every flicker of fear, of confusion, of helplessness. “You’re so sensitive, little dragon. So responsive.” His breath is hot against your skin, his voice a wicked caress. “Imagine what it will be like when I finally take you. When you’re writhing beneath me, begging for more.”

The things he says are vile, each word a knife twisting in your gut, and you can’t breathe, can’t think, your body trapped between the cold, unyielding wall and the searing heat of him. His fingers press harder, and a strange, terrifying sensation builds within you, something that makes your thighs clench, your breath hitch.

And then, as suddenly as it began, he pulls away, his hand leaving you, the cold air rushing in to replace his touch. You’re left gasping, your body trembling, tears streaming down your cheeks as you stare at him, your mind reeling.

He smiles, a cruel, satisfied curve of his lips as he steps back, his eyes gleaming with dark triumph. “Remember this, little dragon,” he says, his voice soft, almost tender. “Remember what I can do to you. What I will do to you.”

And then he’s gone, his footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving you alone, your body shaking, your heart pounding, your mind spinning with the horror of what just happened, of what he plans to do.

You don’t move for a long time, your back pressed against the cold stone, your knees weak beneath you. When you finally find the strength to stumble back to your chambers, you feel hollow, your body numb, your mind struggling to grasp the full, awful reality of what Aerion has just promised.

You know, deep in your soul, that this is only the beginning.

(a few years later)

The candles in your chamber have long since burnt low. The night is quiet, and the only sound you can hear is your own breathing, soft and steady as you lie in your bed, staring at the canopy above. You try to calm your mind, but your thoughts are restless, swirling like the winds beyond the window. You’ve always been anxious in the dark, your dreams haunted by things you dare not name aloud.

The creak of the door startles you, making your heart lurch painfully in your chest. You sit up, clutching the covers close, your eyes wide as they lock onto the figure standing in the doorway. His presence is unmistakable—the silver-gold hair that shines even in the dim light, the sharp, angular features that are both beautiful and terrifying. Aerion.

Your older brother steps inside, closing the door softly behind him. There is a glint in his dark violet eyes, a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve seen that look before, in the darkened halls when he would corner you, whispering words that made your skin crawl and your cheeks burn. You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat, your voice a timid whisper.

"Aerion... what are you doing here?"

He takes a step closer, the distance between you shrinking as he beckons with his hand. “Come to me, little dragon.” His voice is smooth, almost gentle, but there is an edge to it, a dangerous undercurrent that makes your pulse quicken with fear.

You shake your head, your body refusing to move. “Why are you here?” you manage to ask, though your voice trembles, betraying your unease. You’ve always been wary of him, your wariness turning to dread as you grew older and his attention on you became more... intense.

His smile is slow, predatory. “You know why I’m here.” He closes the distance between you in a few strides, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist, pulling you to your feet with a force that makes you stumble against him. His other hand cups your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lips. “So perfect.”

You try to pull away, but his grip tightens, his body pressing against yours. “Aerion, please—” Your plea is cut off as his mouth crashes down on yours, silencing you with a bruising kiss. You freeze, your body going rigid as his lips move against yours, demanding, insistent. His hand slides down your back, pulling you closer, and you can feel the hard lines of his body through the thin fabric of your nightdress.

You tremble, confusion and fear warring within you as his hands begin to tug at your clothes, the cool air of the chamber brushing against your skin as he bares you to his gaze. “Don’t,” you whisper, your voice shaking, but he ignores you, his eyes dark and filled with something that makes your stomach churn.

He undresses you with a kind of reverence, his hands lingering on your skin as if committing every inch of you to memory. You want to scream, to push him away, but your body feels heavy, your limbs unresponsive as he strips away the last of your clothing. You are left standing before him, vulnerable and exposed, your cheeks burning with shame.

“Aerion, please, don’t do this,” you plead, but he only shushes you, his fingers trailing down your arm in a caress that makes you shiver. He pulls off his own clothes with a casual grace, his eyes never leaving yours as he reveals himself to you, the heat of his gaze making your skin prickle.

He nudges you back towards the bed, and you stumble, the mattress catching you as you fall onto it. He follows, his weight pressing you down, his body a cage that you cannot escape. “Spread your legs,” he orders, his voice rough, and you hesitate, your body trembling with fear and something else, something you don’t want to name.

His hands are on you then, parting your thighs, his touch firm and possessive. You gasp as his fingers brush against you, your hips jerking involuntarily at the strange, foreign sensation. “You’re always so sensitive,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a dark amusement. “Have you thought about this, little dragon? Thought about me touching you like this?”

You shake your head, a whimper escaping your lips as his fingers slip inside, the intrusion sending a shock through your body. “No, please—”

“Shh,” he breathes, his lips curling into a smirk. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, the way you blush when I’m near. You want this, don’t you?”

You shake your head again, but your body betrays you, a soft, helpless moan escaping as his fingers move inside you, a strange heat pooling in your belly. “Stop,” you beg, but he only laughs, a low, wicked sound.

“I’m going to make you mine,” he whispers, his mouth descending to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes you shudder. “You’re going to scream my name, little dragon. You’ll see.”

He moves over you, his body pressing you down, and you feel something hard and hot against your thigh. Your eyes widen, panic clawing at your throat as you realize what he’s about to do. “No, Aerion, please, don’t—”

But he’s relentless, his hips driving forward, a sharp, searing pain tearing through you as he enters, breaking the last barrier between you. You cry out, your body arching in agony, but he swallows your scream with a fierce, punishing kiss, his hands pinning your wrists to the bed.

“Quiet, little dragon,” he growls against your lips, his voice a harsh rasp. “You’ll get used to it.” He holds himself still for a moment, his breath ragged, and you feel tears slipping down your cheeks, the pain radiating through you, blotting out everything else.

And then he begins to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, each one driving the air from your lungs. You bite your lip, trying to stifle your cries, but the pain is too much, the sensation overwhelming as he claims you, his body relentless, unyielding.

“Mine,” he whispers, his voice raw with need. “You’re mine, little dragon. No one else will ever touch you like this.”

Your body starts to react against your will, the pain slowly giving way to something else, something dark and shameful. You can feel yourself tightening around him, your hips lifting to meet his, and the realization makes you want to die of shame. How can you be feeling this, how can your body be responding to him?

Aerion’s laughter is low, almost triumphant as he feels your surrender. “Yes, that’s it,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “I knew you’d love this. You were made for me, Y/N.”

His words are filthy, the things he says making your cheeks burn, your skin tingling with mortification and a sick, twisted thrill. He moves faster, his thrusts becoming erratic, his breath harsh in your ear as he drives you both towards the edge.

You can’t stop the sounds that escape you, the cries that mix with his name, your body shuddering beneath him as something inside you breaks, a wave of pleasure crashing over you that leaves you gasping, trembling. Aerion’s voice is a harsh, guttural sound as he follows you over the edge, his body going taut above you, his grip on you almost bruising as he spends himself deep inside you.

He collapses against you, his breath ragged, his heart pounding against yours. You feel broken, shattered in a way that has nothing to do with the physical pain, and everything to do with the man lying atop you, his arms wrapping around you in a possessive embrace.

“You’re mine now, little dragon,” he whispers, his voice soft, almost tender. “No one else will ever have you.”

And as you lie there, your body aching, your mind numb, you know he’s right.

Morning comes too soon, and with it the cold, harsh light of reality. You stir, the ache in your body a bitter reminder of the night before. Aerion’s arm is draped possessively around your waist, his body pressed close, his breath warm against your neck. Panic flares in your chest as you remember, but before you can move, a shrill scream pierces the air.

Your eyes fly open to see your chamber door thrown wide, your handmaids frozen in the doorway, their faces pale with shock and horror. The sight of you and Aerion tangled in the sheets, both bare beneath the thin fabric, is unmistakable. You instinctively try to cover yourself, shame and fear flooding you, but Aerion only laughs softly, his hold on you tightening.

“Good morning, ladies,” he drawls, his tone mocking as he props himself up on one elbow, the blankets slipping to reveal his bare chest. “I trust you’re not too shocked?”

The servants avert their eyes, their hands trembling as they drop to their knees, mumbling apologies and making hurried excuses as they scramble to leave. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, your entire body tense with mortification. Aerion watches them go, amusement dancing in his eyes, his lips curled in a satisfied smile.

“They’ll spread the word,” he says, his voice low and pleased. “It won’t be long before Father hears.” He leans down, his lips brushing your temple. “We’ll be married by the end of this moon, little dragon. Just as I promised.”

You swallow the bile rising in your throat, your heart hammering with a desperate, futile hope that this might still be a nightmare. But the stark reality of Aerion’s weight against you, the soreness between your legs, the mocking light in his eyes—all of it is real. All of it is happening.

You try to push him away, but he only laughs again, a low, mocking sound as he lets you go. “Get dressed, Y/N. We’ll have an audience with our dear father soon enough.” His words are a command, not a request, and you obey, your hands shaking as you fumble with your clothes, feeling his eyes on you the entire time.

The morning drags on in a haze of dread. You are summoned to the throne room, your steps heavy as lead as you make your way through the corridors, Aerion’s presence a dark shadow at your side. When you enter, your father, King Maekar, is seated upon his chair, his face a mask of anger and confusion. His gaze shifts between you and Aerion, his jaw clenched.

“Is it true?” His voice booms through the chamber, the weight of his authority pressing down on you like a physical force. “Have you... done what I’ve heard?”

You open your mouth to speak, to tell him the truth, but Aerion steps forward, his expression a perfect mask of remorse and sincerity. “Father, it’s true,” he says, his voice steady and calm. “But you must understand, it wasn’t as it seems.”

Your heart stops, a cold knot of dread forming in your stomach as he begins to weave his lie, each word like a drop of poison. “Y/N called for me last night,” he says, his eyes meeting Maekar’s without a flicker of guilt. “She... begged me to come to her chambers. She pleaded with me to take her innocence.”

“That’s not true!” The words burst from you before you can stop them, your voice desperate and shaking. “He’s lying! He came to me—I didn’t want this, I—”

“Enough.” Aerion’s voice cuts through yours like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. He turns to you, his expression softening in a way that makes your blood run cold. “She’s only ashamed, Father. Ashamed of what she asked for, what she begged me to do.” He reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm in what might seem a tender gesture to anyone else. But you can feel the threat beneath it, the unspoken command to stay silent.

You shake your head, tears pricking at your eyes as you look at your father, trying to make him see, to understand. “Father, please, you have to believe me—”

“We love each other, Father,” Aerion interrupts, his voice filled with a false warmth, a twisted sincerity. “She told me so last night. She said she loves me more than anything in this world, that she couldn’t bear the thought of being married off to someone else. She asked me to make her mine, and I, loving her as I do, couldn’t deny her.”

You stare at him, your mouth dry, your heart pounding so hard you can scarcely breathe. The audacity, the sheer gall of his lie, leaves you speechless. You glance at your father, seeing the uncertainty, the hesitation in his eyes. He doesn’t want to believe it. You can see that much. But he’s always been willfully blind to Aerion’s true nature, to the darkness that lurks beneath his handsome face.

“Aerion, she’s your sister,” Maekar says finally, his voice weary. “This... this isn’t right.”

Aerion’s smile is a thin, cruel line. “She’s more than my sister. She’s my other half. Our blood is pure, Father, as it should be. We belong together, and she knows it as well as I do.” He glances at you, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You feel as though you’re suffocating, the room closing in around you, your father’s gaze heavy on your shoulders. There’s no escape, no way out of this web of lies that Aerion has spun so effortlessly. You open your mouth to deny it again, to scream the truth, but the look in Aerion’s eyes silences you. It’s a promise, a threat. If you say anything more, if you contradict him, there will be consequences. And you know, deep in your heart, that no one—not even your father—can protect you from him.

“I... I don’t...” Your voice falters, the words choking in your throat.

“See, Father?” Aerion’s smile is triumphant, his grip on your arm tightening. “She’s just overwhelmed, embarrassed. But we love each other. We want to be together. Make it right for us. Let us be married.”

King Maekar rubs his temples, his eyes closing for a long moment as if the weight of the decision is crushing him. When he opens them again, they are filled with resignation. “If this is what you both want...” His voice is slow, reluctant. “Then I will not stand in your way.”

The world seems to tilt, your vision blurring as the full horror of his words sinks in. Aerion’s hand squeezes yours, a mockery of comfort, his smile a dark, twisted thing. “Thank you, Father,” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’ve made us both very happy.”

You can’t breathe, can’t think, as your father’s decree seals your fate. There’s no escape, no way to turn back. Aerion’s grip is a shackle, his presence a dark shadow that you will never be free of.

“Now, little dragon,” Aerion murmurs in your ear as you leave the throne room, his voice soft, almost tender. “We’ll be together forever. Just as it should be.”

His words are a prison, and you are trapped, caught in the web of his obsession, with no hope of rescue. There is no way out. Not anymore.

[rootedinrevisions]

Breaking an Already Broken Heart

SUMMARY: Struggling with a failing marriage and reeling from Tyler’s betrayal, she confronts him at a bar after learning he had been secretly involved with a mutual friend for years. Already heartbroken from her own relationship problems, the revelation shatters her further. Despite her anger and hurt, she finds herself leaning on Tyler, who, despite being the source of her pain, is also her best friend and the only one who can hold her together.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I said I was going to take a few days away from writing, and I do still plan on taking a lot of time the next four days for my mental health so I can't guarantee when or if there will be any more stuff coming until next week. But writing is almost therapeutic to me so I decided to see if it would help. I couldn't sleep, so I wrote this last night at about 3am, and I wanted to share it.

WARNINGS: Angst. Like the kind that hits you right in the chest and gut.

WORD COUNT: 1.6K

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 

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The bar was one of those unassuming places—the kind of spot where the lights were low, the air was thick with the scent of old wood and spilled beer, and the music was just loud enough to drown out the noise in her head. It was familiar, too familiar. She and Tyler had spent more nights here than she could count, back when things were simple—back when she didn’t know about him and their mutual friend.

Now, it felt different. The weight of the truth sat heavily in her chest as she nursed her drink, trying to push back the sting of betrayal that clawed at her throat. Tyler was beside her, quiet. His presence, usually calming, only added to the turmoil inside her.

He knew she was upset, knew the revelation had rocked her. But Tyler was never one to push. He just waited, like always, his hand resting lightly on the back of her chair, a silent promise that he was still there, still her best friend, despite everything.

She took another sip, the alcohol burning its way down her throat, but it did nothing to dull the ache.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was quieter than she intended, the hurt slipping through despite her efforts to keep it hidden. She didn’t look at him, couldn’t bring herself to.

Tyler shifted in his seat, and she felt his eyes on her. His fingers brushed the small of her back, a touch so familiar, but now it felt different—like a reminder of all the things unsaid between them. “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He admitted, his voice low.

She let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to face him. “Well, congrats. You did.”

The weight of her words hung between them. Tyler’s hand remained on her chair, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on the wood, a habit she hadn’t noticed before. His silence frustrated her, but she wasn’t sure what she expected him to say. There wasn’t an apology in the world that would fix this, not when the hurt went so deep.

“I know I messed up,” he said finally, his voice thick with regret. “And I’m sorry. But…” He sighed, shaking his head like he was trying to gather the right words. “I didn’t know it would affect you like this.”

She blinked at him, her frustration rising. “How could it not? You’ve been sleeping with her for years, Tyler. And I’ve been here—your friend, your… whatever we were. I thought I knew you. I thought…” Her voice faltered, breaking as the pain surged forward. “I thought I mattered.”

Tyler’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, without a word, he reached for her drink and set it aside, replacing it with a glass of water. “Drink this,” he said softly.

The weight of everything crashed down on you the second Tyler placed the glass of water in front of her. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about the years of lies that had unraveled in one night, breaking the fragile trust between them. It was the fact that she was already shattered—cracks from her marriage splintering her heart long before the mutual friend threw the truth about her and Tyler into the mix.

She stared at the water, feeling the tears build at the corners of her eyes. Her marriage was hanging by a thread, and she’d spent so long pretending it was salvageable, clinging to the hope that maybe things could still work. But deep down, she knew it was over. Every fight, every cold shoulder from her husband, every too-friendly message between him and "just a friend" had left her feeling small and discarded. 

Her hands curled into fists in her lap. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not,” he said, still calm, still steady. “But you’ll feel like shit if you keep drinking on an empty stomach.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes, but she drank the water anyway. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked out for her, and she hated how much she needed it now. She was angry–angry at him, angry at the situation, angry at herself for still wanting him to be the one who held her together when she felt like she was falling apart.

She had come to Tyler tonight because she needed her best friend—the one person who always made her feel like she wasn’t unraveling at the seams. But now, he had made it worse. He had broken a heart that was already broken.

The silence between the two felt heavier now, suffocating almost. Tyler hadn’t said a word since his confession, but he didn’t have to. She could feel his guilt in the way his hand stayed at the back of her chair, tentative, like he was scared she might pull away completely if he pushed too hard.

“I didn’t need this,” she said, finally breaking the silence, her voice shaking as she struggled to hold back the tears. “Tyler, I’m already dealing with my marriage falling apart. I’m barely holding myself together, and now this? You’ve been lying to me, too.”

He flinched at her words but stayed quiet, his gaze heavy with remorse. She knew he wasn’t one to offer excuses, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. She was unraveling, and the one person she thought she could count on had yanked another thread loose.

“I don’t even know what hurts more,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “The fact that my husband might be cheating on me, or that you—you, of all people—have been sleeping with her behind my back for four years. I don’t even care that you slept with her. I haven’t cared about who you sleep with in years. But you hiding it from me? For this long? It feels like a joke. A really cruel joke.”

She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. If she did, she knew the tears would spill over, and wasn’t ready for that. Not here. Not in front of him.

Tyler shifted beside her, his hand resting more firmly against her back, grounding her. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted to hurt you. I swear I didn’t.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, you did. And the timing couldn’t be worse.” She took a shaky breath, running a hand through her hair. “You have no idea how tired I am, Tyler. How exhausted I am from pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

“I know you’re hurting,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry I added to it. If I could take it back, I would.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. “The worst part is, you were the one person I thought would always be there when everything else fell apart. I didn’t expect to lose you too.”

For a moment, the two of them just sat there, the weight of everything unsaid settling between them. His fingers brushed the small of her back again, and this time, the touch felt like an apology. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

"You don't have to lose me too. I still want to be here for you. If you'll let me."

Without thinking, she leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, the need for comfort winning over her anger. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to fix anything anymore.”

Tyler’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer. “You don’t have to fix it all,” he said softly. “Not right now.”

She sat like that for a while, the silence stretching between them, but this time it felt different. Less tense, more familiar, like the years of friendship were still there, holding them together despite the cracks.

When her favorite song came on, Tyler shifted beside her, pulling away just enough to catch her eye. “Dance with me,” he said, offering his hand like he had countless times before.

She stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, unsure whether to accept, but something inside her caved. Maybe it was the alcohol dulling the sharp edges of her anger, or maybe it was the familiarity of his presence, but she let him pull her to her feet.

The music was slow, and before she knew it, his hands were on her waist, and her head was resting against his chest. She hated how safe it felt, how his arms around her made her feel like maybe, for just a second, everything wasn’t falling apart.

As they swayed together, she closed her eyes and let herself speak. “I should hate you, Tyler.”

“I know,” he said, his voice quiet but steady.

“But I can’t,” she confessed, the words barely a whisper.

“I know,” he repeated, his grip tightening around her just a little, like he was trying to hold all the broken pieces of her together.

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I’m so hurt,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But I can’t lose you. Not now. I need you, Tyler. You’re the only one who can keep me from falling apart.”

His arms tightened around her, pulling her against him as if he could somehow shield her from everything breaking down around her. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “I’ve always got you.”

And for the rest of the song, he held her close, like he was trying to be the one constant in a life that felt like it was slipping out of control. For now, it was enough. Maybe not tomorrow, and maybe not forever, but for this moment, she let herself lean on him, letting the pain and confusion blur into the background as his arms wrapped around her.

[sugarushwriting]

vampire enhypen ot7, you’re their human blood bank (part eight and last part!!) (or is it the end?)

last part! thank you for loving this series, that i didn’t expect to be a series!

also i realized mfc roomies name is jen 🤦🏽‍♀️ pls ignore that and imagine two different jens

not proof read.

reblog, like, comment, share but please do not repost or translate.

again, i am not shipping any le sserafim girls with enhypen, especially ni-ki and eunchae!!

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

a few days passed and jay felt like he lost all authority of the guys. ni-ki was ignoring him and all the other guys, they couldn’t find him after he disappeared in the middle of the night. he hadn’t showed up to classes the rest of the week.

they lost you. you ignoring every effort of them trying to reach out. again, it hurt you to ignore jake and the younger ones, but you couldn’t be sure they were genuinely concerned or doing it because of jay and sunghoon.

sunghoon was pissed at jay as well. jay was still angry with jake. jake was just trying to focus on classes but he missed your taste and blood.

jungwon only got to feed on you once, and his body was definitely craving your blood. heeseung tried to help him feed on another human safely, but it seemed his body rejected the blood.

soon it would be sunoos turn to feed on a human, and he was less than thrilled.

jay stood in the middle of the library in the house that you loved so much. your scent lingering behind. he sighed in frustration, more at himself.

“jay.” sunghoon caught his attention.

jay turned around. “yeah.”

“we have trouble.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

the trouble? sakura called in a friend.

bang chan, also known as chris. he was an elder vampire, even older than jay by a decade. but not only was he a vampire, but a vampire—werewolf hybrid.

bang chan brought two of his own vampires, lee know and seungmin.

“thank you for coming so quickly.”

“of course.”

bang chan lived not too far away, but stayed low. he didn’t just take in vampires, but all supernatural creatures that don’t have a family or their original living arrangements didn’t work out.

ni-ki bowed to the oldest.

“you must be ni-ki.” bang chan smiled.

bang chan explained how he made sure all supernatural creatures learned to live among humans all while balancing their other lifestyle.

he has fairies, a banshee, a ghoul, other vampires, werewolves and so much more he helps and takes care of.

“i could come with you?”

“if you want. i understand your original living plans may not be going the way it should?”

ni-ki shook his head, “he’s threatening to send me to switzerland.”

“sounds like good ole jay. just hauling newbies off when he finds it too hard.” lee know laughed.

you soon came down the stairs surprised by the handsome men in the living room.

“is she a creature needing a living space too?” lee know asked.

“no. she’s a human hiding from the guys. they poisoned her to keep her at bay to behave.” sakura answered.

“jay has become more unhinged since the last i have seen him.” bang chan said and looked at sakura. “basically since he last had you, when you were human.”

“they know we’re in town.” seungmin whispered.

he was talking about jay and sunghoon. bang chan looked back to the younger one. “do they know where exactly?”

“they shouldn’t, i made sure they couldn’t track us.” sakura said.

“that’s why we couldn’t smell you all.” bang chan nodded. “smart.”

sakura got a phone call from one of the girls.

“we’re being followed by them.” kazhua said.

sakura already knew who she meant by them. sakura looked at the three vampires in her living room.

“lead them here. it’s fine.” sakura answered then hung up.

kazuha and eunchae led sunghoon and jay straight to the seraphims house, pretending they didn’t know they were being followed.

both girls entered the house, greeting the three men. sakura made quick introductions, then a knock came at the door.

“oh how nice for them to knock.” bang chan laughed.

sakura went to open the door, jay and sunghoon pushed past her but stopped when they came eye to eye with bangchan.

“hello men.” he smirked. he knew those two had no power over him. bangchan was one of the strongest living supernatural creatures there was.

jay didn’t even acknowledge him. “ni-ki, pack your things, you’re coming home with us.”

“no, you’ll just send me to switzerland!”

jay shook his head. “i realized i over reacted. i promise not to send you to switzerland.”

“why? so you can chain me in the basement instead?”

sunghoon made eye contact with you. “babydoll.” he said barely above a whisper. he couldn’t even recognize his own voice.

your heart fluttered at hearing sunghoons voice. “hi hoonie.”

he went to step closer to you, but stopped himself. “babydoll, how are you?”

“she’s fine now that she’s not poisoned by you.” kazhua spat.

sunghoon frowned. “i am so sorry.” he was defeated. you were special to them.

jay was fighting his emotions. his family was basically falling apart. jake was ignoring him, sunoo and jungwon was tiptoeing around him, ni-ki had ran away, sunghoon and heeseung was frustrated with him.

most of all, he lost you. he betrayed you and your trust. and because of that, his own clan was struggling. but he just needed you to know you belonged to them and no one else.

he didn’t like the idea that you may be going off with bangchan and his clan.

jay looked up at you with pleading eyes. “love, i am so so sorry for how i treated you and made the guys treat you.” jay stepped closer to you, you instinctively stepped back. “love, please don’t go off with them.”

you looked at him surprised. “you think i was going to leave with them?” you pointed towards bangchan and the other two guys.

eunchae shook her head. “she wants to become a seraphim.”

everyone in that room looked at you in shock. eunchae was tired of holding onto what you asked her last night.

“absolutely not! i will not lose another love!” jay yelled in anger. then looked to sakura with pleading eyes. in order for you to become a seraphim you would have to die. you knew that much.

“what’s the point of me staying human if i grow older and you all stay the same huh? what happens then jay?” you argued once again. “like i have stated, i refuse to be at your beck and call for the rest of my life!”

“fine! you wanna become a supernatural creature?”

no one, not even bangchan saw what was coming next. jay used his vampire speed to pass everyone, to get to you.

you couldn’t even realize he was in front of you until he sunk his teeth into your neck. this time, it felt different. it didn’t feel like jay was feeding. no, this stung, terribly. you screamed out in pain.

you heard screaming, gasping, your named being yelled, jays name being yelled, and then jay ripped off of you.

all before you blacked out.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“babydoll, wake up please.” you heard sunghoons pleading voice.

“jay has lost his damn mind!” jake said next.

“what the hell is wrong with him?” this was heeseungs voice.

“it’s his emotions.” you think that was bangchan. “he’s blinded by her like he was sakura. but this time, he refused to lose her.” bangchan sighed. “he went against his morals to keep the woman he wanted.”

“but now we won’t even be able to feed off of her. her blood is like ours!” jake stated in worry. oh how he was going to miss your taste.

“not necessarily,” bangchan offered, “her body still needs to accept or reject the change.”

you squirmed. what does he mean accept or reject? you slowly opened your eyes, realizing you were at the boys house, in sunghoons room. you had a cold towel pressed on your forehead, a mini heart monitor attached to your finger.

“baby, you’re awake!” jake smiled in relief and went up next to you to grab your hand.

bangchan asked, “how are you feeling?”

“like hell.” you answered with a groan. “what do you mean accept or reject?”

bangchan didn’t beat around the bush. instead simply and straightforwardly answered your question. “when someone gets turned into a vampire, their body will either reject the transformation or accept it. by accepting it, you turn into a newbie. by rejecting, you’ll either return back to a human with some complications or die.” bangchan explained. “we’ll know in the next 12 hours what your body does.”

“what kind of complications?” you asked.

“there’s no limit or straight answer. some who have rejected the change became blind, or mute, or deaf. they’ve became paralyzed. some develop paranoia, ptsd, and other mental disorders. some end up getting tumors or cancer. very rare has those who rejected the change return to their normal self.”

“im gonna kill him.” sunghoon said under his breath.

“no need for that, let’s see how she does, first.” bangchan said trying to ease the tension. “remember, you all said she was special. it’s very rare a vampire loses all their morals and senses over a human. there must be a reason.”

“any ideas?” sunghoon asked.

“there’s a few,” bangchan began. “all of you say she’s special, at least the ones that have fed on her. and there’s some reasons to that. her blood could have a rare genetic marker that makes you all more attracted to her. it could be simple as her blood type is rare and more diserable. or it could be symbolic.”

“symbolic how?” you asked now interested yourself.

“a human who’s special to a vampire can represent the human side or humanity that vampires lost once they became what they are. a reminder of their past life of what they once were. it causes an emotional attachment and significance.”

“what was it for sakura?” you asked.

“her blood type was rare and more desirable back then.” sunghoon answered. “same for kazuha. the more we fed the more we bonded with them through their blood.”

“what happens if my body accepts the change?”

“you’ll have to feed on jays blood to complete the change.”

“and if i don’t?”

“you die.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

jay was being watched heavily by lee know, seungmin, sakura, and kazuha. eunchae stayed back at the house with ni-ki, and jen, chae and garam showed up to keep them company after what they witnessed.

jay was surprised by his own self. he’s never went against his morals. he vowed to never bite a human to change them unless they were close to dead and agreed to become a vampire.

“i don’t need a babysitter.” jay huffed.

“if she dies, i will rip your head off myself.” sakura snapped. “another human doesn’t deserve to die because of you.” sakura wanted to cry but she stayed strong.

“sakura, im so sorry.” jay apologized.

“centuries too late buddy.”

sunghoon walked into the living room where jay was being watched. jay stood up quickly, “how is she? any change? any idea of what her body will do?”

“she’s okay for now, she’s awake. no worries or ideas yet. she’s aware her body may accept or reject and bangchan explained what may happen if her body rejects it. bangchan even explained why we could be so attached to her.” sunghoon said.

“why are yall so possessive of her?” sakura asked. “is her blood that rare like how mine and kazuhas was? it’s the 21st century, im sure her rare blood type is more out there than before.”

sunghoon shook his head. “im not sure. she doesn’t remind me of my past before i became a vampire.”

jay shook his head. “me niether.”

“then it could be a genetic marker in her blood.” lee know offered as insight. “meaning she could come from a line of heritage that is just meant to be a human blood bank for vampires.”

“meaning she was made to be fed on by vampires.” seungmin summarized.

“then why aren’t yall going crazy for her? is it because you all haven’t tasted her?” sakura asked.

lee know shook his head. “she smells sweet, but not something i want. she is made for jay and his line of vampires, meaning, everyone he’s turned.”

“if we taste her, she may either taste normal or bitter to us.” seungmin added. “it also means someone in her family has the same genetic marker and was fed on by a descendant of jays. whether it be a great-great grandmother or great aunt or uncle, or whatever. there’s no pattern on how many generations it skips or passes down to.”

“if that’s the case, then her body will reject the change because she’s not meant to be a vampire.” bangchan spoke up as he came down to the living room. “if her genetic make up is made for her being fed on, then she’ll reject the change, survive, and go back to normal, hopefully with no complications. we just have to wait and see.”

“that still doesn’t excuse your behavior!” sakura scolded. “poor eunchae and ni-ki are probably traumatized!”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

12 hours later, you felt the same. you didn’t feel sick, you didn’t feel stronger, you felt like the same ole plain you. your body rejected the change with no complications.

bangchan explained the reasoning behind that. your genetic marker and why you’re so special.

“so i still grow old, they’ll be young, and eventually throw me to the curb?” you sighed.

bangchan shrugged. “not necessarily, weirder things have happened.”

you realized you do have a bond with these boys, and it started when jay took note of you in class. when your eyes met, you knew there was something special, some different. when he told you about him and the other guys, you weren’t scared, it almost felt normal.

you were stuck with them and you were okay with that.

little did you know, it was your great-great-great grandmother who carried the genetic marker. she was special to jays father. jays father fed on her and continues to with his wife, jays mom.

yes, that is right. your great-great-great grandmother is still alive. after she died, jays dad found a witch to bring her back to her young human form so he could continue to feed with the one blood he had a bond with.

jays dad would make sure his son knew the truth, when it came time to say goodbye to you and how he could keep you alive and young.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

[l0vem41l]

sharing and caring??

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, low effort drabble, writer tries to do something shorter, yes i am still insane and crazy about dc im so sorry, silliness, jason todd is so fucking funny to me 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. my lovie (aka jason todd)

author's note: YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH DC?? nah. ok so this is like. something i can't get out of my head. let's ignore the fact his ass is canonically GREEDY AS FUCK!!!!! (●_●) taskforce z vol. one jason's literally a dine-and-dash guy. left a huge ass bill too like dawg.... GTFO 😭😭

▸ JASON will always offer a bite of his food every time he eats around you. it's almost instinct that he extends it to you like... "y' want some??"

it'd be really sweet if it wasn't the most random foods on earth. you love and adore him but... his habit of offering things extends to foods that really aren't made to be shared.

"...that's a tootsie pop." you remark, as he holds the lollipop to you. mind you, the candy has already been in his mouth.

"yeah? so what?" he shrugs casually, barely even blinking.

truth be told, the moment you said that, jason felt a pang of embarrassment shoot through him like a bullet. if he's being honest, he didn't even really think about it. he shares everything with you.

trying to play it off nonchalantly, he just grins.

"why? are you one of those people who only like the center or something?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "it's okay. i'll give it you after i've eaten around it—"

"dude, ew."

yeah ok so now hes just messing with you. even though he would totally do that if you asked him...

— reblogs always appreciated!

[socialistexan]

Overlooked thing that's gotten a little bit of attention recently is Trump's utter lack of ground game and turn out to vote operations in swing states right now.

Your polling matters, yes, but not if can't people out to vote. Polling tends to only capture likely voters (for good reason, why ask someone who isn't likely to vote who they'll vote for if they have no history of showing up), so you need the people aren't as likely to show to up and vote to actually get out there. They may have made up their minds in August of 2022 for all we know, but they might just be slightly apathetic or who knows.

That's my theory on why the 16 and 20 margins were so big for Trump compared to 18 and 22 (when the error slightly Democrats): The low propensity voters who either only care about Trump or who were successfully targeted with get out to vote efforts by the Trump campaign.

Trump and his team in 2016 and 2020, for all their many flaws, were excellent at microtargeted their supporters in key areas and turning them out to vote when they needed it. Those voters aren't captured in polls normally, but if they show up it counts the same.

Now Trump is kind of doing a quasi-version of what Clinton did in 2016, underfunding ground game in swing states in the hopes that 1) outside groups do it for you or 2) just hope your voters are enthusiastic enough to show up due excitement.

In 16 Clinton spread a good ground game too thin between too many states trying to expand the map, this year Trump is simply underfunding them.

That's not exactly a recipe for success.

[mammomlette]

People don’t talk about MC needing to wear a magical ring to not accidentally yk cause NATURAL DISASTERS with their powers??? Not only accidentally but without realising???

Diavolo or smthn is asking too much of MC or being a bit too annoying and their other hand slowly drifts towards the ring and they hold onto it while maintaining dead eye contact. Like continue to piss me off hoe I’ll blink and blow a hole in your castle idk

Obv they never do it (or do they?) but the threat is there and it’s a risk dia (or whoever but I’m using dia) can’t take

[staring-at-a-blank-pagee]

hmm, the warp star is looking a little different.... oh well, no big deal! kirby loves everybody, which means that he loves you too! stay safe for kirby <3

[stuckinapril]

Genuinely unfortunate that I’m attracted to men bc a lot of straight men these days r so embarrassing my heart can’t take it anymore

[hotwaterandmilk]

I'm still not well so this isn't going to be articulate, but I wanted to say something anyway.

In the wake of Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies (amongst other titles) being purged from streaming I've seen countless posts saying "This is terrible, we need to stop this practice -- they might purge a good show next!" and yeah, for sure a lot of titles being impacted by streaming purges/lack of physical media/a decline in archiving right now aren't going to be remembered for changing the world.

However, I think it is vital that we fight to preserve these titles for their own sake not just because "What if next time it's something we actually like?!" There is value is preserving things widely regarded as "bad" not just because I have firm beliefs about the absurdity of taste, but because who gives a shit if something is deemed "good?" Actual human people put their time and energy into realising these artistic visions. Even if the results are arguably not "good" or "popular", should the efforts of these artists be lost to the sands of time? No, no they fucking shouldn't.

I share a lot of art on this blog from titles very few people consider culturally important or valuabe. However, I don't look at the things I collect & share like that. Even some of the most objectively absurd titles I own are still pieces of art that were developed, published, and consumed by humans in the real world. Whether they've turned out to be broadly memorable or not is irrelevant because they existed and that in itself makes them worthy of preservation so that others can choose to familiarise themselves with them long after the original creative team is gone.

So yes, we should all be trying to preserve the media that's important to us and not let corporations try to stamp out every trace of a financial (though not necessarily artistic) misstep. However, it shouldn't take the threat of something we, personally, like being taken away to stir us into giving a shit.

Even the demise of less admired works should concern us and make us start to burn copies of Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies because it might not mean anything to you or I right now, but to some kid in 20 years it could be a seminal experience that leads them to follow their dreams. Or it could become a cult classic that people reflect on at watch parties years in the future. Or it could continue to be a footnote in the history of television that nobody really cares about.

Ultimately I don't think it matters what level of value we arbitrarily assign to media now or in the future, we should be trying to preserve as much of it as possible so that generations from now people can enjoy the option of engaging with these titles should they so wish.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

"my education is my highest priority" everything returns to vocaloid

[batsplat]

marc marquez letting an italian pass him at assen? *insert here a generic joke about rossi being mad*

had marc been a real hater he’d take off the wheels and win by 16 seconds riding only chassis after receiving a tyre pressure warning

a sequel to phillip island 2003, I like it conceptually

this is his problem. (giving him a pass this weekend, see you after the summer break.) he's not enough of a hater these days, he needs to find his way again... he needs to remember some of his best work is fuelled by spite... I remember his misano 2017 where he simply refused to lose that race after those italian fuckers had gotten his head hot... he knows this is how his brain works, he can channel this, he's seen the script... misano 2019, let's not forget, he'd just lost two back-to-back dramatic last lap duels... sure, he might have been walking the championship with insulting ease, but he still had something to prove... and what does he do? he stalks the yamaha riders on friday. in misano. he comes out on track during saturday qualifying ahead of dovi and valentino, decides to dawdle and let them past. and then he jumps on valentino's rear tyre. in misano. in the first year in which valentino just wasn't an on-track rival any more he had any real competitive reason to fuck with. but had the intention of using valentino to go faster. in misano

and then he gets super mad about the resulting drama and ends up snatching the win in the subsequent last lap duel against the rookie brat who is way harder to be a hater of!! that was proper hating, like that was a weekend long masterclass in hating. man touched down on italian soil and had a mission

anyway unfortunately I do think it's harder these days, like you can't just do that to any italian? what's he gonna do at assen, get all heated up when fighting diggia - a man I regularly forget does actually have a proper vr46 link now courtesy of riding for their team - for pee five? back in the day, he did have the decency to only ever finish behind an italian at assen when one of said italians was valentino (on three occasions, '13 '15 '17)... he used to show some respect for the narrative... but y'know some good old spite probably really would help him in weekends like that to keep it together a bit more. he's got to get something going with pecco for his own sake. in assen he probably never had the pace with all the spite in the world... next year, we'd better be cooking something special