#I hope this is at least clear enough to not be like. a disappointment of an answer lmao

[arolesbianism]

Alright boys pack it up no more rain world posting new oni dlc is coming out in less than a week

[shalvis]

🔥!!! any topic

I didn’t get to this last night bc I had to go to bed for work (I ended up calling out anyways though) so thats my topic I guess. This isn’t really an unpopular opinion here but I don’t think I should have to work. Like when I say that I mean people who have chronic pain or sensory issues or problems interacting with people. Or any other really. And it could even extend to everyone like. If for any reason at all you do not want to work you shouldn’t have to and you should still be able to afford or acquire basic needs. Income should only be for little treats and stuff you want but don’t need. Maybe. Really I’m just saying I want to quit my job and be a kitty cat full time and works really getting in the way of that

[wandaslittlebird]

Her Special Girl

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

After being away at college for three years, you finally come home for the holidays. And no one is more excited to see you than your stepmom.

CW: Stepmom/Stepdaughter, MOMMY ISSUES, slight daddy issues, mommy kink, cheating, breastfeeding, fingering (R receiving), mentions of strap usage, flashbacks, mentions of past: suicidal thoughts, loss of virginity, ghosting

Word Count: ~5k

A/N: I think if I keep this up, they’re going to revoke my degree in psychology and bury me for defending psychosexual development.

A/N: I could be talked into making a part 2 for this. And by talked into I mean approximately 1 person needs to ask. I had way too much fun with this.

Part 1 of Her Special Girl

——————————————————--

She knew something was wrong when you had called her to pick you from your mom’s house a week early. You weren’t supposed to be coming home till Christmas Eve, but here you were, curled up in her passenger seat only three days after being home for Christmas break. 

Wanda wasn’t supposed to be the one picking you up. You originally called your father, but he was, unsurprisingly, unavailable. Apparently he was off playing ‘not the world’s worst stepdad’ with Wanda’s boys for the week. Probably some bonding time enforced by Wanda. He was never terribly keen on spending time with his family. Plus it got the miserable old man out of her hair for a few days. Merry Christmas to Wanda.  

“Mom’s house was that bad, huh?” she asked. You simply nodded in response. She made a sympathetic noise and rubbed the back of your head. “I’m sorry sweetheart. We’ll talk about it when we get home?” 

You nodded again, thankful she wasn’t going to fill the car with awkward small talk. You reached for the radio, turning up the quiet christmas music. You rested your head against your knees, absently humming the familiar music to soothe yourself. You didn’t notice the way Wanda’s heart absolutely melted everytime she got a glance at you. As much as it broke her heart that you’d had a bad experience at your mother’s house, she was glad to have you home for Christmas. 

—------

Wanda and your father had married when you were around 16. In the first years, you weren’t close. In fact, you had hated Wanda at first. The kindness and gentleness she offered you was so alien and unfamiliar. Everytime she did you a favor without being asked, or made a move to give you physical reassurance, you felt like your inside would turn to mush. By that point, you were old enough to decide when you wanted to go to your dad’s house, and it felt easier to avoid her entirely than confront the gnawing feeling in your chest that arose whenever you interacted with her. So you spent those years at your mom’s house.

But as time passed, something shifted. 

In what was supposed to be your last semester of high school, it became pretty clear you were not going to pass. Your life, the one you had planned for at least, fell into a tailspin. You watched all of your friends move on without you. Both of your parents were extremely disappointed with you and seemed to give up on you in favor of the new families they’d created. All of your hopes and dreams of finally escaping to college were put on hold. You had completely lost all direction. 

And one night in late July, when there was no school to look forward to in August and no hope of starting a life of your own without a high school diploma, you hit rock bottom. You were lying down in the shower at your dad’s house and you found yourself unable to get up. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t do it anymore. And just when you thought your body would decay into the blue tile, you heard a knock at the door.

“Honey? Are you okay in there?” 

It was Wanda. You wanted to yell that you were fine and you'd be out in a minute, but you couldn’t get the words out of your mouth. So you didn’t respond. 

You heard the sound of a key pressing into the lock, and the hesitant steps of your stepmother making her way into the bathroom. “Honey?” she called again. She gasped when she found your limp body in the shower. She threw the glass door open, turned off the shower that had long since gone cold, and wrapped you up in a towel. You were too far gone to be embarrassed that your stepmother was seeing you naked at 18 years old. All you could do was throw your arms around her and sob and babble apologies. 

“Oh! My sweet girl. How long have you been in here? I just woke up to use the restroom and I heard the water still running. You poor thing, have you been in here all night? You’re freezing. Your poor lips are purple! Come on, let's get you warmed up.”

With impressive strength, she was able to pick you up and carry you to bed. She threw all of your softest blankets around you cocooning you with warmth on all sides. Then she sat on the bed next to you, wiping the cold wet hair from your forehead. 

And for once, you were too weak to push her away. Too weak to fight the magnetic draw you had always had towards the woman. You needed her more than anything in the world. You wanted to be surrounded by her. You craved an impossible closeness with her. The hole in your heart had grown so big it nearly devoured you, and she was here to patch it up and kiss it all better.

So you melted into her touch, inching your body closer to where she sat on the bed until you were wrapped around her. You almost expected her to inquire as to where this was coming from, the sudden closeness after avoiding her for so long. You thought maybe she would even reprimand you for your childish behavior, or call you weird for acting like this with her. But she didn’t. “Aww my sweet girl. You’ll be alright. I’m not going anywhere. Mama’s here.”

And she didn’t call you weird when you tugged on her nightshirt, silently asking her to lay down with you. She simply crawled under the covers, kissed your head, and pulled your still naked body into her arms. “You poor thing, you're still freezing. It’s okay, mama will keep warm.”

And she didn’t reprimand you when you decided there was still too much separation, so you pulled her nightshirt up over her head, leaving her bare in bed with you. “Mmm, you’re right this will get you all nice and warmed up. You're a very smart girl.”

“I love you, mama.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

She tangled her body into yours, enveloping you in the warmest embrace. Her skin was so incredibly soft against your, pressed into every inch of your body. You could feel the way her heart overflowed with contented joy with you between her arms. 

And nothing was ever the same after that. In the span of twenty minutes with her, you’d gone from believing you could die on the shower floor and no one would care, to feeling like the single most important thing in her entire world. You were hers. 

And you were hers when she gave you your first kiss over an episode of “Legend of Korra.” You’d been so over eager, it’d felt like you were trying to eat her face, but she didn’t make fun of you. She just calmly pulled back, giving you all the instructions you needed to make your second kiss perfect. 

And you were hers when she took your virginity while your father was away on a business trip. She had laid you out on the bed, kissing slow trails down your stomach while you gasped and shuttered at every new sensation. That first night, she treated you like you were made of the finest glass, beautiful and delicate. 

And you were hers when she cried into your arms, begging you not to go so far away for college. With her help, you’d finally gotten a high school diploma. You had the funding from your father to go anywhere you wanted. She wanted to want you to go, she really did. She wanted to want whatever was best for you, but she wasn’t ready to let go of you yet. 

But when you packed your bags and left anyway, you couldn’t be hers any longer. There were no phone calls, no texts, no apologies or explanations for why you left. You were simply gone like you’d never existed in the first place.  

—------

“So,” she asked, helping you carry in your luggage and dropping it in the foyer, “do you wanna talk about what happened with your mother?” She knew you and your mother had never gotten along. She was honestly more wondering why you even decided to go home in the first place. You had spent Christmases with your friends since you’d left for college, but this year you had inexplicably decided to come home. 

You shrugged. “Same as always, I guess. There’s never been a group of people I’m so palpably unimportant to. She and my stepdad have a family of their own, ya know? And I’m just… not part of it. Every time I’m there I feel like a ghost haunting a happy family.” Tears welled up in your eyes, falling down your cheeks. 

“Oh, honey,” Wanda sighed, cupping your cheek with her hand. You only cried harder at the gesture. It was so kind. So gentle. So familiar. You fought your every instinct to not throw yourself against, clinging to her like a petulant child. You wanted to be close to her again.  

The look in her eyes made you feel like you were going to explode. She was listening to you, like actually listening to you. You couldn’t help but pour your heart out to her. “I don’t even know why I tried to come home this year. I just had this idea that I was gonna come home after being gone for so long and she was going to have magically changed. I just had this, like… fantasy that she’d wrap her arms around me and apologize for not being there for me, say that all this time away has made her realize that she can’t live without me, tell me how I’m her most special little girl and she’ll do anything to make it right.”

You turned away from her, suddenly very embarrassed of all the things you’d just confessed. “It was stupid. Whatever. It’s never been like that and it’s never going to be like that. I’m fucking 22, I wasn’t going to be mommy’s little princess anyway.” You felt the urge to run away. You couldn’t bear to look at your stepmother’s face any longer. You made a quick break for the stairs, but Wanda caught your wrist.

“Honey, wait!” she said, pulling you back around to face her. Your head spun and your skin tingled when she touched you. “You know you're still my special girl, right?” 

“Of course, but you have your boys and they’re your whole world. And that’s a good thing! They’re really lucky to have you, I just…” You trailed off, unsure of what to say next. 

“You just?” she asked after you didn’t speak for a minute. 

Another torrent of tears stung your eyes. “I can’t be your special girl. I’m not even really yours.”

Wanda tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean by that, honey?”

“I’m not your baby,” you said, choked up by your failed attempt to not let your tears fall. You ducked your head, avoiding her gaze at all cost.

She took a step towards you. “Hey,” she started, reaching for your chin to make you look at her. “I’ve missed you, you know? While you’ve been gone.”

“You did?” you asked in almost a whisper. 

“I did,” she reassured. “I thought about you all the time. I never let your father get rid of your bedroom, even though he wanted to move his office there. And there’s still a chair at the end of the dining table for you. And in the winter time I always buy that peppermint creamer for my coffee because it was always your favorite.”

Your resolve finally crumbled and you threw yourself around her, clinging to her desperately. “I missed you too, mama. I wanted to come home to see you, but I didn’t think you’d ever wanna see me again. After I… I thought you’d hate me forever!” you were sobbing in her arms, head tucked under her chin as her long nails scratched your scalp, just how you like. 

“Shh, baby it’s okay. I could never hate you. You’re home now. Mama’s got you,” she cooed. “Let’s get you a nice warm bath, get you all cleaned up, and then we can watch a movie in my room. Does that sound good?”

You nodded, reluctantly removing yourself from her. She reached out for your hand and smiled when you grabbed her arm with both hands, clinging to her awkwardly as you made your way up the steps. She led you to the master bathroom that had a fancy corner tub. She ran the water, checking the temperature to make sure the water was just right. 

“Alright pretty girl, arms up,” she said, lifting the hem of your shirt over your head. She neatly folded your shirt and placed it on the counter. She turned around to find you with your arms bashfully crossed over your chest. She took your hand. “None of that, sweet girl. It’s just you and mama, you don’t need to cover yourself.”

“‘s cold,” you mumbled, goosebumps rising across your chest.

“I know,” she said, bending down to unbutton your pants and push them down around your ankles. You wrapped your arms around her neck, using her for balance as you kicked out of your pants. “We’re gonna have you all warmed up in just a second, sweetheart.”

As soon as you were naked, you scrambled over to the warm tub. Steam was rising from the water’s surface where it met the cool air. You hissed as your cold feet met the water. Wanda giggled at your eagerness, folding your pants and underwear and placing them on top of your shirt. “Careful, pretty girl,” she chuckled. 

You sank into the tub, slowly allowing your body to adjust to the temperature. You sighed in contentment, resting your head back against the ledge of the tub. You rolled your head to the side to face Wanda, who had stripped off her jeans, leaving her in a long gray sweater that barely covered her ass. Your eyes glimmered at the sight of the beautiful woman. “Will you get in with me?” you asked. “Please?”

“Not tonight, honey,” she said, sitting down on the ledge of the tub behind your head. She stuck her feet into the water on either side of you, leaving your head between her bare thighs. “Mama’s already had her bath. Now keep your head tilted back for me. I don’t wanna get any soap in your eyes.” Any protests you had were quickly cut short when you felt long fingers massaging your favorite coconut shampoo in your hair. Wanda worked cautiously, careful not to get any soap in your eyes. She somehow managed to keep your face almost entirely dry throughout the entire process. 

You nearly started to cry when she started applying soap to your body with a soft washcloth. It had been so long since someone had touched you so gently. You could feel how much she cared for you as she softly scrubbed the day's grime from your body. Each caress left trails of goosebumps rising on your soapy skin. You felt like you might melt into the bathwater. 

“Alright little love, kneel up nice and straight for me so I can get you all clean,” she calmly commanded. You hesitantly got up on your knees and turned to face her, reluctant to pull your body from the warmth of the water. Now that you were looking up at her, you felt suddenly exposed again. It was much easier to be naked in front of her with your back turned. 

You took in a sharp inhale when the washcloth landed between your legs. “Mama…” you whined, looking up at her with worried eyes. Her touch felt so good you couldn’t help but buck against the cloth while a knot still coiled in the pit of your stomach. You had the fleeing thought that you should tell her to stop and that this was wrong. But as she continued her ministrations, your head seemed to empty itself of any such thoughts. All you could focus on was the growing sensation between your legs. 

“Aww, sweet girl,” Wanda cooed. “It’s okay that you like it when you like it when mama touches you like this honey. You don't have to be embarrassed, angel.” She made slow, teasing circles around your clit through the thick cloth. You grabbed her arm, keeping her in place until she finally had had enough of the teasing and gently freed herself of your grip. 

“Mama,” you whined again as she continued to wash down the curve of your ass and the inside of your thighs. You weren’t sure why, exactly, you found yourself chanting her name, but it seemed to be the only word you could find. 

She smiled. “You’re okay, angel. Mama got you. I love you so very much, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you, just like I used to. There’s no need to be embarrassed or guilty or scared. You’re still your mama’s special girl, okay?” She leaned down to kiss your forehead. You closed your eyes and allowed her complete control over your body.  “We’re all finished, detka. You can sit back down now.” She guided you back down into the water, turning you back around and resting your head against her inner thigh. She gently started to dry your hair as you settled back into the water. You found yourself wrapping your arms around her calf, clutching at her like she might fly away.

“Mama?” 

“Yes, little love?”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“How do you mean, angel?” Her voice was laced with concern. You weren’t exactly sure how to respond, so you nuzzled your face into her thigh in embarrassment. “Hey little love.” She bent down so she could see your face. “It’s okay. You can tell mama. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

You shifted around uncomfortably, unsure of how to phrase what you wanted to say. “I need you really badly mama,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I know I’m too old, but I wanna be your special little girl forever.” 

“Oh honey,” she soothed, “you’re never too old to be my special little girl. Even if you wanted me to take care of you forever, I’d love every second of it.” She laid back against the wall, closing her eyes and allowing herself to fantasize about what it would be like to have you back. Forever, this time. A faint smile painted her face at the thought. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re too old to need your mama. They might not understand it like you do, but you are a very very special girl and your mama loves you very very much.”

You nodded against her, shyly tucking your face back into her thigh. You sat like that for a minute, letting her fingers scratch your damp scalp while you smiled in contentment. 

But you could only rest naked between her bare legs for so long before the little pings of arousal took over. You turned around to face her, this time straddling a single one of her legs between two of your own. You sat back on your feet, resting your head on her knee. 

“Mama, please. I need to feel you again,” you sighed. You desperately craved the feeling of closeness you’d once shared. The feeling that you and her were the only two people in the world, and that you were as important to her as she was to you, and that was the only thing that mattered. 

You wanted her inside of you, touching all the parts of you no one else got to see. You yearned for the way she made you feel like the most precious thing in the universe, chasing your pleasure like it was her own. She felt good when you felt good. 

Conversely, you wanted to be inside of her, pushing into her like a puzzle piece that had always meant to fit together. You felt like you could rewrite time, finally inside your mama like you were supposed to be all along. 

She reached down beside the tub and pulled up a fluffy pink towel. She stretched it out with her arms, welcoming you into a soft embrace. She took such care in drying off every part of you, down to your calves that still stayed in the water. 

You sat in between her legs, her arms wrapped around your bare body. She pulled you close to her, your back flush against her chest. Then she wrapped her legs around yours, effectively pinning them open against the wall of the tub. 

You pulled at the sleeves of her sweater, desperate to get closer to her. There was still too much fabric between the two of your bodies. 

She shushed you pleas with gentle hands. “Not right now, detka. Let mama show you how much she’s missed you, okay? Then we can cuddle up all naked under the soft blankets on the bed just how we like to. Does that sound okay?”

You let out a displeased whine. You were extremely impatient. It had been years since you’d had her so close. But as she stroked your hair with one hand and your clit with the other, you found yourself more amenable to suggestions. “P-promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” she reassured. 

She kept her pace just steady enough that talking, and thinking for that matter, became difficult. “A-and we stay like that all-all night?”

“All night, angel.”

You finally nodded in agreement, relaxing against her. You kept a ironclad grip on her bicep, feeling the muscles flex as she played with your most sensitive parts. 

She moved her fingers down through your folds, teasing your entrance. You tried to force your hips down onto her fingers, but her legs kept you from moving. You settled instead for whining like an injured puppy. “Please mama, please.”

“Mmm,” she hummed in your ear, circling your entrance with the tip of her finger. “I’m so lucky. I get to have my most special girl and all her most special parts,” she sunk her middle finger into you, eliciting a mangled groan, “all to myself.” 

“All yours,” you assured, feeling her finger curl and twist inside of you, making room for more. She was always so calculated with the way she pleased you. You were like a present she was methodically unwrapping, peeling each piece of tape off, careful not to damage the paper. She was in no rush to tear you apart. She kept her painfully slow pace, but sunk a second finger into you. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head. “I’m all yours, mama.” 

She leaned your head back onto her shoulder and kissed your cheek. You didn’t even notice the uncomfortable strain the position should’ve caused your neck. There was just her everywhere, caressing each part of your body with a tenderness you’d never experienced anywhere else. Her hand explored your chest, teasing hard nipples with gentle pinches and soft touches. Nails scraped their way down the soft expanse of your stomach, paying special attention to the curve of your hip bone.

“Mama, I love you. You feel so good inside of me, please don’t stop. Oh god please never stop,” you whined. You didn’t even care that she was moving her fingers too slow to make you cum. You were so content with just her filling you up, touching the parts of you no one else got to touch. You got to be hers all over again.

You thought back to your days with her, home alone. She’d let you sit on her lap in her office, arms and legs wrapped around her like a koala bear, her strap nestled inside of you. She was always so impressed by your ability to stay still for hours on end. But how could you want for anything more than to be full of her?

“You’re so tight and warm for mama,” she cooed. “I love feeling you around my fingers, baby. You make such pretty noises.” She sped up her movements, highlighting the sound of the wetness between your legs. You were nearly dripping a trail down the side of the tub. 

You tried to buck against her hand, but her legs kept you perfectly still. “Ooh mama. I love you. I love you mama,” you cried, unable to escape the building pleasure of her fingers. She slipped a third finger inside of you, only further spurring your desperate cries. “Please mama!  Please, I'm so full. Mama I wanna cum for you. I wanna cum on your fingers. Please! Please let me cum on your fingers.” 

Her fingers twisted and curled in all the ways that drove you crazy. You knew you couldn’t cum until she touched your clit, which she was tactfully avoiding for that exact reason, but you still felt nearly out of your mind with pleasure. You were jerking against her now, causing her to wrap her arms around your waist. “Calm down honey. Mama’s got you. You’re doing so good for me sweet girl.”

“Good girl for mama,” you mumbled brainlessly. The continuous pounding of her fingers made your head spin. There was nothing in the whole world but you and your mama. Nothing else mattered. 

“That’s right, angel. You’re mama’s good girl,” she praised. 

You nodded dumbly, unable to muster any more thoughts than “mama” which you chanted repeatedly. She shoved three fingers in your mouth, making the word come out even more unintelligible. You whined around her hand, but obediently sucked her fingers. 

“Can you touch yourself for me princess?” She asked, both her hands too occupied to finally put an end to your abuse. You both knew that just a little pressure to your clit would finally push you over the edge. 

You didn’t even acknowledge her question, just hopelessly cried around her fingers. “Aww sweet girl, you need mama to do it for you? That’s okay, honey. Mama will take care of it.” She pulled her fingers from your mouth, now covered in your spit, and reached down between your legs. She kissed the side of your head while she finally attended to your neglected clit. “That’s it, princess. Cum on mama’s hand.”

You were nearly silent as you fell over the edge, unable to do little more than jerk and squeak. She gently led you down from the high, removing her fingers and bracing you against herself so you didn’t tumble back into the now cold bathtub. She cleaned you up with a washcloth and wrapped you back up in the soft towel. 

She chuckled when she picked you up and saw your face, blissed out and stupid. She thought back to before you had left for college, when you were 18 and it took a lot more than three fingers and 20 minutes to get you here. “Nobody has touched you like that for a long time, have they angel?”

You shook your head against her chest. “Only you mama.” 

She smiled at the admission. Laying you down at the center of her big bed. You pawed at her sweater when she pulled away. “I’m just taking this off. I’ll be down there in just a second.”

She crawled under the covers only a moment later, pulling you closer and discarding the towel onto the floor. You nuzzled into her neck, wrapping your arms around her waist. You were so warm and so loved. You felt so important again, just like you did the fateful night she’d pulled you from the cold shower. In that moment, you couldn’t wrap your head around why you’d ever left. How could you ever have left anything so perfect?

“Mama, can I be inside of you next time?” You mumbled into her chest, unwilling to completely separate yourself from her. 

“Of course you can,” she replied, pulling you in to kiss your forehead. “Anything for my special girl.”

You smiled. “Can I use the dark red toy? The one that gives you the little bump right here?” You touched her lower stomach in indication. 

She couldn’t help but laugh at the request, recalling the only other time she allowed you to use that toy right before you left. Seeing the bulge in her lower stomach had gotten you so excited you’d pathetically rutted into like a teenage boy. “Only if you can be gentle with mama.”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Gentle with mama.” 

She smiled down at you, noticing your eyelids start to droop. “That’s enough for tonight, little love. Rest now and we can talk some more in the morning, okay?” She gently guided your head down to her chest. She smiled when you almost immediately took her nipple into your mouth, suckling contentedly, just like she’d taught you to do. Oh, how she loved you.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift off into a daydream. Maybe she could convince you to move schools so you could come back, live at home with her. Every stressful assignment or class or situation with your friends could end like this: in this intimate act that drowned out both your stress and hers. Maybe if you’d stay, she could get on hormones and start actually producing milk again. All for you. All for her baby girl. And she'd remind you how loved you were everyday, and you never take her for granted again. 

Yes, she’ll have you back in her arms just like it used to be. You’ll come home to her, and you’ll finally see that you’ll never need anyone else ever again.

[capquinn]

I really want fries as a finishing the week treat but it’s so cold out and I’m too lazy to get them. But I was thinking about Quinn and pregnant reader in that situation. Quinn would give her that 🫤 look and sigh after she’s been going on and on about her pregnancy craving and no matter the weather or time of night he always goes out to get it or find the closest thing to it. He’s such a softie and drops everything to do anything for her

It starts off innocently enough — just a passing comment as you're cooking dinner.

You’re standing at the stove, stirring a pot of soup, when you spot the empty pickle jar on the counter. The sight of it stops you mid-stir, an ache blooming in your chest that you hadn’t even realised was there. The sharp tang of vinegar was just a memory now, thanks to Quinn, who had polished off the last one earlier. You stared at the jar for a long moment, then inhaled deeply as if to steel yourself, catching the faint scent of peanut butter still lingering in the air from his afternoon snack.

“We’re out of pickles,” you announce, the words coming out sharper than you’d intended.

Quinn doesn’t even look up from where he’s leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone.

“We’re going grocery shopping tomorrow,” he replies casually, like it’s no big deal. “We’ll grab some more then.”

You nod, swallowing down the disappointment. Of course, it’s fine. Quinn already does so much for you — too much, honestly. He doesn’t complain when you wake him up in the middle of the night to rub your back, doesn’t bat an eye when you cry over commercials. The least you can do is manage a craving for one night.

But by the time the soup bowls are empty and the dishes are drying in the rack, the craving is no longer something you can brush aside. It’s no longer just pickles. It’s pickles and peanut butter. Crunchy peanut butter, specifically, the kind you already have in the pantry. And the thought of it — salty and tangy and just a little sweet — is like a loop stuck in your brain. You can feel it growing, blooming into an obsession you can’t shake no matter how hard you try.

So you finally bring it up as you’re both clearing the table.

“You know, pickles and peanut butter would taste so good right now,” you say, hoping maybe speaking it out loud will get it out of your system.

Quinn pauses, plate in hand, and gives you a skeptical glance. “Pickles and peanut butter? Together?”

You nod, setting down the glasses you’ve just picked up from the table. “Yeah. Like, on the same spoon. Or maybe a pickle dipped in peanut butter,” you add, tilting your head thoughtfully.

He squints at you like you’ve just suggested something completely alien. “You don’t even like pickles.”

“I know,” you say, exasperated, “but it’s a pregnancy craving. I can’t explain it.”

Quinn smirks, a playful glint in his eye. “So, the baby’s got you craving… that?”

“Apparently,” you say with a shrug, trying to sound casual, though you can feel the craving getting worse now that you’ve spoken it into existence.

It comes up again later as you sit cross-legged on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on your phone while Quinn flips through TV channels.

“Pickles and peanut butter,” you murmur under your breath, almost to yourself and from the corner of your eye, you catch Quinn’s side-eye, his brow quirking as he lowers the remote slightly.

“You’re still thinking about that?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement, though there’s a hint of skepticism, like maybe he’s hoping this craving had run its course.

You glance up, shrugging as you bite your lip.

“Yeah,” you admit, and then, add quickly, “but it’s fine. I can wait until tomorrow.”

Quinn’s gaze lingers on you for a beat, and you can feel the weight of it. He’s studying you, half waiting for you to crack and half trying to decide if he needs to intervene now or risk hearing about pickles and peanut butter in his sleep.

“You sure?” he says finally, his tone light, but there’s something else beneath it — like he knows you’re holding back.

“Positive,” you say, nodding firmly.

And for a while, you convince yourself that it's true. That you're completely, utterly and positively sure that you can wait until tomorrow.

So you curl up under the blanket with Quinn, his arm draped loosely over your shoulders, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm — a quiet, familiar rhythm that usually soothes you without fail. The TV hums softly in the background, and his chest rises and falls against your side, steady and warm. It should be enough.

But it’s not.

The thought of that perfect salty-sweet combination gnaws at you, persistent and unrelenting. You try to distract yourself, to focus on the show Quinn seems semi-invested in, but every passing second feels like the craving is growing claws, digging deeper into your resolve.

You take a deep breath, glancing up at him. His profile is soft in the glow of the TV, his expression relaxed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he absently strokes your shoulder. He’s content, comfortable. You almost feel bad for what you’re about to do.

Almost.

“Before I say something,” you start, your voice tentative, measured, the prelude to what you know is a plea, “just remember that I’m carrying your baby.”

Quinn doesn’t even blink. His lips quirk into a small smile, his thumb pausing mid-circle on your arm.

“Our baby,” he corrects gently, his tone warm, teasing, like he knows exactly where this is going. Of course he knows. He always knows.

You hesitate for a beat, building up your courage before blurting, “I’m really, really craving pickles and peanut butter.”

His head falls back against the couch, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he drags a hand down his face.

“Baby,” he says, his voice full of mock exasperation, “it’s pouring outside. You said it could wait until tomorrow.”

“I thought it could,” you insist, sitting up straighter, as if that’ll help your case. “But I’ve been thinking about it since dinner, Quinn. I don’t think I can sleep until I have it.”

He looks at you, his brows furrowing just enough to show he’s debating his options, though you both know there’s only one.

“I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate,” you tack on, your tone earnest as if that might tip the scales further in your favor.

Quinn exhales a long, dramatic sigh, one that would almost sound convincing if not for the way his lips twitch at the edges, betraying the affection underneath. There’s no real frustration in him — just the soft resignation of someone entirely smitten, hopelessly incapable of saying no.

“You haven’t even asked me anything yet,” he points out, tilting his head as he meets your gaze, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a flicker of amusement he’s trying not to show.

It’s infuriatingly endearing.

“Will you please go get pickles?” you ask, your tone so sweet, so endearingly earnest, that he doesn’t stand a chance.

That gets him.

His lips twitch, fighting off a grin, as he pushes himself to his feet, stretching with a dramatic groan.

“The things I do for you,” he mutters under his breath, the corners of his mouth betraying the tease.

He disappears down the hall, and you hear the faint shuffle of a jacket being pulled off a hook, the jangle of keys being found. When he returns, he’s already slipping his arms into the sleeves, his shoulders settling with the kind of resigned acceptance that says he knows this is his life now — and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He moves toward the door, stooping to pull on his sneakers, the drizzle outside faintly tapping against the windows. Just as he’s tying the laces, he glances back over his shoulder, one brow quirking in that playful, knowing way that makes your heart squeeze.

“Anything else while I’m out?” he asks, his tone warm and teasing, like he’s already resorted to a grocery list. “Ice cream? Chocolate syrup? A gallon of peanut butter to get us through the next week?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you peek over the back of the couch.

“Just the pickles. And maybe… the good kind?” You ask innocently, like maybe you’re asking for too much at this late hour.

Quinn groans, a sound full of exaggerated exasperation, but the grin tugging at his lips gives him away.

“The good kind,” he repeats, his tone dripping with mock seriousness, like the words themselves are some great inconvenience. “I’ll see what I can do.”

But there’s no hiding the fondness in his eyes as he steps closer, moving behind the sofa. He plants his hands on the cushions, leaning over until his face is just above yours. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin with a quiet kind of devotion. Then, he presses a kiss to your temple, lingering just long enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the steady comfort of his presence.

“You owe me for this,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to that warm, teasing tone that makes your heart flip.

You tilt your head toward him, grinning as you meet his gaze, your affection spilling over. “I’m giving you a baby, Quinn.”

He exhales a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes like he’s indulging some monumental injustice. But the way his lips twitch, the faint curve of a smile tugging at the corners, gives him away.

“Yeah, you are,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself, his thumb brushing along your cheek in a gesture so instinctive, so achingly gentle, it makes your chest tighten.

There’s a flicker in his eyes of pure adoration that doesn’t even try to hide. It’s the kind of look that says a thousand things he never could — about how much he loves you, how much this life you’re building together means to him, how he’d cross any distance, brave any storm, just to see you smile.

And then he huffs, a soft sound somewhere between affection and surrender, before leaning down further, his breath warm against your skin. His lips brush against yours, soft and deliberate, the kind of kiss that’s all tenderness and quiet longing. It lingers, unhurried, his hand cupping your cheek as if to keep you right there, as though this moment is his anchor before he steps out into the cold.

“Be right back.”

[freaksun]

cute, cuter, cutest

you call eddie cute and it leads to more.. allusions to smut under the cut. bestfriend!eddie

you giggle, shoving him lightly “youre cute.”

he visibly jolts, eyes widening slightly. you dont know why hes reacting so harshly, it was a compliment!

he cant stop the fire that engulfs him, the searing red blush that climbs up his neck, covering his cheeks in a beautiful colour that puts his feelings on a platter for you to pick at.

at least he expects you to, to laugh in his face and tell him you were only joking, you dont think hes cute you think hes a loser. a part of him wants to tell you off, to reject you before you can reject him

but you dont. - well,- you giggle a little bit which doesnt help but then you move closer.

“youre even cuter when youre flustered.” you smile at him, a warm inviting thing that makes him wanna lean forward and fall into you. into the pit your unconditional affection and company and sweet sweet laugh, from which he may never return.

pushing through the thorns in his throat, he cant help but make sure youre not making fun of him. even though he trusts you and youre smiling at him like you smile when you watch your romcoms, he still expects you to laugh and run away.

“are you making fun of me?” hes direct. no way around it.

he regrets it immediately when your smile falls, and youre looking at him like he’s a hurt puppy.

“what? of course not, eddie.” something he wouldve never guessed in a million years is when you reach out to touch him. you hold his face so softly and he can just feel the way you care about him in the way your thumb is rubbing his cheek.

you look at the ground, retracting your hand in a whirl of regret and fear of crossing a boundary. suddenly shyer than hes ever known you to be. hes frozen, petrified with tho only thing stronger than fear - hope.

if he wasnt so scared he’d lift your chin with his thumb and maybe even kiss you like hes always dreamed of doing, but hes stuck in fear of ruining things ‘like he always does.’

you look back into his eyes, which both scares him and comforts him at once. he’s been your bestfriend so long that staring into your eyes makes him feel at home in a way no one else can. or maybe thats cause hes in love with you.

“I-“ you start but seem to lose your confidence. this time hes ready. he mirrors you, holding your cheek with his pointer finger above your ear, his others right below it, and his thumb gently stroking the apple for your cheek. his hand fits there so comfortably like he was made to do it.

“im listening.” he nods reassuringly. he always knows how to make you feel ok.

you swallow, eyes flicking between his and the dirty hardwood floor of his room.

“i love you.” you state plainly, eyes burning holes into the wood planks. you say it to each other all the time, but this time its different. this time you cant bare to look at him when you say it, can stand to see him reject you.

“i know, baby..” he tries to hide the disappointment, but you can tell he doesnt get it.

you look back at him, your slight frustration overtaking what was stopping you from looking at him before. hes so beautiful. his brown puppy eyes staring into yours, scared but begging you to tell him what you really mean. it helps you feel more confident that hes not going to reject you, the look on his face makes it clear.

“thats not what i mean.” his eyes widen again, just a smidge. still, its enough to make him look like a cartoon deer.

he can feel the heat emanating from your face.

“what do you mean?” he knows and you know and you know he knows and he knows you know.

still he needs to hear it.

“I mean..” you reach your hand up to your face, holding his wrist and squeezing gently.

“i think you’re beautiful. and cute, and handsome.. and.. hot..” he turns pink quickly, looks like hes hiding away in his mind. its like hes not there, like he just cant hear you being so nice to him.

“you make me laugh every day. i think youre the funniest person i know.” his lashes flutter, and it seems like hes forced himself to be present, to hear you. he turns pinker.

“you’re so fuckin sweet. you care more than anyone ive ever met and i fucking love that.” you make it a point to compliment everything you know he feels bad about everything hes been made to feel bad about

“i think you’re so strong. you hear what people say about you every day and you still prove them wrong. still manage to be kind in the face of hate.” hes red now, tears in his eyes.

“and i love every minute with you. you make time pass so quick.. you make me feel safe and loved and appreciated. i love you, eddie.”

he blinks and his tears fall. you coo and wipe them from his cheeks. he smiles, his hand moving from its dutiful place on your cheek to grab your wrist.

“c-can i kiss you?” ever the gentleman he still asks after you’ve laid out your heart to him. as if you’d say no.

you nod, smiling shyly. he leans in, both your hands on each others faces guiding you both towards each other. you close your eyes and all you feel is his soft pillowy lips brushing yours, gentle as he has always been.

you cant hold back. you’ve dreamed about this forever and you always thought you’d be shy about it, gentle and letting him lead.

instead, in the moment, you pull him closer to you in a sudden desperate haze, shoving his lips into yours. he makes a suprised ‘mmf’ sound you absolutely eat up and it only makes you want him more.

his hand finds your hip, pulling you into him now just as needy. his tongue slides across your bottom lip, begging for permission. you moan softly, hoping he doesnt notice but god knows he does, and he needs more. needs to hear you moaning his name.

the second your mouth opens that centimetre, the kiss deepens tenfold as you pull on his clothes. moaning into each others mouths you suddenly realize where you are and whats happening.

you pull back, smiling and panting heavily.

“im gonna close the door”

[inkedinshadows]

Bound by Secrets

Pairing: Azriel x Beron’s daughter!reader

Summary: When you get caught sneaking around the Hewn City, you end up in one of the dungeon cells to be interrogated by the infamous Spymaster. But things don't go exactly the way the General and the High Lord thought.

Warnings: mentions of sex, allusions to torture and scars

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: Okay sooo, I got a bit carried away with the first part and it came out longer than anticipated, with Az coming in at around word 1.7k. I know it’s a lot without him since it's his appreciation week, but the build-up is worth it (hopefully) and seeing how long the whole fic turned out to be, I hope you don't mind too much. There's still a lot of Azriel, I swear! (and I might have gone a little bit off-topic but shh it's fine). Anyway, happy @azrielappreciationweek everyone!

You knew being here was dangerous.

The Hewn City was not a place you could simply sneak into, and yet here you were, lurking in a corner of the throne room, waiting for the right moment to slip out and search for the treasury.

You had been sent there with a mission: find the Veritas Orb. How your father knew where it was, or what he needed it for, was not information you had been made privy to. But the High Lord of the Autumn Court had been clear: you were to steal the Orb as soon as possible. Knowing the kind of punishment he dealt when disappointed, you always did your best to comply. That left you with little time to prepare and, apparently, a huge number of problems.

Because just as you were about to make an unseen exit through the hallway you had previously selected, every single person in the crowd stiffened, and the chattering stopped abruptly, plunging the room into a silence so deep you could hear a pin drop.

As you turned to see what had happened, you realized everyone was staring at the entrance doors, just as they swung open. One look at the two tall figures slowly stalking in, and you knew you needed to get out before it was too late.

You blended into the shadows against the wall as the Spymaster and the General of the Army made their way to the dais on the other side of the hall. A smudge of red and gold was all you caught out of the corner of your eye when the Morrigan entered, just as you bolted down the hallway.

The High Lord and High Lady would be next. And if they caught you not only in their Court, but in their underground city as well, you'd be in serious trouble. You couldn't risk it. You needed to get out.

Yet you couldn't leave. Not without the Orb. Fear seized you for a split second at the mere thought of the pain you would suffer at your father's hands if you were to fail, and then you broke into a sprint—or as close to a sprint as you could manage with the high heels you had worn to blend in with the Hewn City inhabitants.

A thrum of power reached you despite the distance you had already put between yourself and the throne room, a clear sign of the High Lord and Lady’s arrival. You needed to hurry.

“Damn heels,” you muttered under your breath. You stopped long enough to take them off, gather them in your hands, and resume your run. At least your night-black dress was loose enough around the legs to allow you to move freely.

You had no idea where the treasury was. Your father didn't know, merely telling you the Orb was likely kept there—as if that helped. But you wouldn't consider where else it could be, instead choosing to focus on one thing at a time.

You wandered through the hallways, peering into every room you could find. Most of them were studies, sitting rooms, or smaller chambers for holding court. None of them what you were looking for.

Pushing a heavy wooden door open, you discovered a staircase that spiraled down. The basement. Or dungeons, you guessed, summoning a flame in your hand to light the steps as you began the descent. It made sense for the treasury to be on a lower level—harder to reach and easier to hide. That was where your father kept his most treasured possessions as well.

The stairs ended in a long hallway with many other tunnels branching off. You chose one out of instinct and kept going like that for a while, trying to remember every turn you took. The place was like a maze and there was nothing to, with nothing to distinguish the different paths. But eventually, your seemingly random choices paid off, and/because you found yourself in front of large, unguarded double doors. Upon closer inspection, you realized they were warded, hence the lack of actual guards.

With a smirk, you placed your palm on the knob and summoned more of your power. Your hand became a bright shade of orange, and a thin circle of fire spread from it, growing over the surface of the doors until it burned the spell protecting them. A little trick your oldest brother had taught you years ago.

Pulling your hand away, it returned to its normal color as you shoved the door open and walked inside.

Piles of gold lined the walls, jewels and weapons displayed in glass cabinets, and everywhere you turned, something shiny caught your eye. You delved deeper into the room, discovering beautiful pieces of artwork scattered around, but you couldn’t let them distract you from your task. You began searching the place instead, opening boxes and trunks, anything you could find, but there were no signs of the Veritas. The more you looked, the clearer it became.

The Orb wasn't there.

A frustrated sigh escaped you, and you stifled a groan as you made your way back to the tunnels, picking up the heels you had left by the door.

There had to be another room where more treasure was kept. You just had to find it. You were so sure it would be somewhere nearby that you made a stupid mistake: you didn’t count your turns, didn’t memorize when and where you had gone left or right or straight.

Maybe you should have asked for help before coming here. You had considered it, but you didn't want to endanger more people than necessary—or, even worse, have the truth discovered—and you honestly had thought you could do this alone.

You were wrong, and now you were lost. Like a damn fool.

Too caught up in your worries and rising anxiety, you did not hear the approaching steps. As you turned around the corner, you bumped into a tall, muscular body. A strong hand gripped your arm to keep you from losing balance, and the flame still flickering around your hand went out.

Now only the low gloom of the torches several feet down the tunnel illuminated the darkness.

“There you are.”

You didn’t recognize that deep, almost rough voice, but your heart jumped in your throat at sight of the leathery wings and the black scaled armor adorned with seven crimson Siphons.

You already knew who you were facing when you looked up and met the wary gaze of the General of the Night Court armies, his face half-hidden in the dark.

“There I am?” you repeated, putting on a sweet smile that didn’t reflect your internal turmoil. “Were you looking for me, General?”

His eyes narrowed as he took in your bare feet and the heels you still held in your hand. “What are you doing down here?”

You couldn’t tell if he meant down here in the Hewn City or in the tunnels below the palace. What if he knew the truth? What if he knew who you were? It could have given you a way out, it could have—

But Cassian’s grip on your arm tightened at your silence. “Answer me,” he growled. “We know someone broke into the treasury. And I know it was you.”

You shivered at his tone, at the fear that began to settle inside you, knowing you had been caught. As you tried to find a way out, you heard the words coming out of your mouth as if they were someone else’s: feigned shock at the news, deep confusion at the accusation, refined politeness when you addressed him. Hopefully, it was enough to let you off the hook.

“Why, if I may ask, would you think that was me, General?”

He didn’t seem impressed by your display of innocence. “There are very few redheads in the Hewn City, and none with fire powers. You’re from Autumn.”

Well, shit. You were so used to seeing red-haired Fae in the Autumn Court that you hadn't considered how recognizable your hair—or your powers, for that matter—could be outside of your home.

“I…”

You didn’t know what to say. You had red hair. You were suspiciously wandering in the tunnels. You had broken into the treasury using your fire. How could you find an excuse for all of that?

Your hesitation was confirmation enough for the General. His grip on your arm became almost painful. “Who are you? What were you looking for in the treasury?”

Maybe telling him the truth would help. If you revealed that you were in the Hewn City because you had no other choice, that you were not only Beron’s secret daughter but also his spy, his undercover agent, would he believe you? And if he did, would that make things better or worse for you?

Again, you thought about it for too long.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed even more. “You’re coming with me,” he ordered, nudging you along. “And you will talk, one way or another.”

You didn’t like where this was going. You didn’t like it one bit.

You could burn him, you supposed. Use your fire on him to create a distraction and run away. But you knew what kind of pain it caused, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt someone that way, not even him. And even if you did, where could you run? You didn’t know the place, didn't know where the hallways led or where the hiding spots were. But Cassian did. You wouldn’t get far before he found you.

You let the General lead you even deeper into the dungeons, following him without a struggle, even as the cold air bit at your skin and your gut churned in fear.

After a few minutes, you were escorted inside a small cell. There was nothing but a wooden chair in the middle of the space, right next to a grate on the floor from which hisses and growls rose up. You decided you didn’t want to know what was on the other side.

Cassian took your shoes, placing them next to the door as he gestured for you to sit. You obeyed silently and took a seat, waiting for the handcuffs, for the restraint, for the questions to start.

None of it came.

You just sat there, the General watching you intently from his spot against the wall, his stance relaxed yet alert in case you tried something. He said not a word.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before the door opened again and another male walked in. He was Illyrian too, a sword similar to Cassian’s was strapped to his back, and he wore the same armor. But his Siphons were a shade of cobalt blue, his black hair cut short, and he was surrounded by swirling shadows.

Your breath caught at the sight of the Spymaster.

Azriel’s eyes widened ever so slightly as they settled on you, his shadows frozen around his shoulders. He stood there, wings tucked tightly in, staring at you as if he could see right through your façade.

“Where is Rhys?”

The Spymaster didn’t tear his gaze away from you even as he answered. “He couldn’t leave.” His voice, cold as ice, sent a shiver down your spine. “This is the intruder?”

You held your head up high, reigning in your emotions. You wouldn’t let him intimidate you. You refused to. No matter the stories you had heard about the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court, you wouldn’t cower. Not before him. You had suffered enough at the hands of your father to know how to deal with fear and pain.

“I found her wandering in the tunnels,” Cassian answered. “Not far from the treasury, hand wreathed in flames. She refused to say anything.”

The Spymaster assessed you, hazel eyes scanning you from head to toe. “Well, that’s about to change.” His hand lingered dangerously close to the black-hilted knife strapped to his muscular thigh.

Your brother's words echoed in your mind. “Tell him what he wants to hear.” “If you fight him, you'll only make it worse.” “Think of something nice, hold on to it, and it'll be over soon enough.” “Behave like the pliant little female he expects you to be.”

If Eris's precious advice had always worked with your father and his particular inclination for painful punishments, then maybe it would work now as well.

Azriel's gaze didn't falter as he stalked toward you, the dagger now clutched in his scarred fingers. You could have sworn his hand trembled for just a split second as he unsheathed it, but you were already looking down at your bare feet, letting your shoulders slump forward and your stiff back relax into a more submissive position.

A pair of black boots stopped right in front of you. Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands holding the armrests so tightly that your knuckles went white. The scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled your nose as cold metal pressed just under your chin, urging you to lift your head.

You didn't fight it, meeting a pair of honeyed eyes that stared at you coolly. So close, you could see the tiny speck of green in them, even with his dilated pupils.

Cauldron, this male was beautiful. Painfully so. Bigger issues begged for your attention, but you couldn't help but admire him—the sharp features of his face, the perfect lines of his jaw, the plush lips, the way a few black curls hung over his forehead.

You didn't dare shift your position, but the urge to clench your thighs was almost overwhelming. The most inappropriate time ever.

Azriel seemed to somehow sense it, because his nostrils flared and the tip of the knife pressed a bit more under your chin, though still not enough to draw blood.

“What are you doing here?”

That voice, like silk and shadows and ice. Now you could understand why everyone feared the Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

“Why were you in the treasury?” he pressed, more demanding than before.

When you didn't answer his questions, he removed the dagger and took a step back. You glanced at the General, still standing by the door, but your focus quickly returned to the Spymaster, who had begun to circle around your chair.

Like a beast about to strike, toying with its prey before the killing blow.

“You know, this would be easier if you talked willingly.”

Shadows wrapped around both your ankles and wrists to prevent any possible movement. He was behind you now, his dagger trailing down your arm, sending all your senses on high alert.

“Or I'll have to resort to more… unpleasant methods.”

Your bindings tightened as if to prove his point and a small gasp escaped your lips. You had to say something, come up with some kind of excuse before it was too late.

“Tell him what he wants to hear.”

What did he want to hear? You couldn't very well give up the truth, could you? But maybe if you did, maybe if you tried…

Your eyes shot to the General. He was studying you with his arms crossed, nothing but distaste etched on his features.

Azriel, now on your left, noticed the direction of your gaze. He watched the other Illyrian for a few heartbeats before speaking in that low, quiet voice of his. “You know I work better when I'm alone.”

You stilled at the words. You, alone in a dungeon cell with the Spymaster? This changed everything—reshuffling all the cards, altering the odds of how this interrogation might end.

Cassian blinked, turning to face him. The two males stared at each other for what felt like ages, a silent conversation passing between them. Eventually, the General sighed.

“Fine,” he grumbled, fingers raking through his dark hair. “But alert Rhys immediately if something happens.”

The Shadowsinger seemed to hold back a scoff. “I know what I'm doing, Cassian,” he replied coolly. “I always get the information I want.”

You swallowed harshly, but Cassian gave a sharp nod and sauntered out of the cell.

As soon as the door closed behind him and his footsteps faded down the hallways, Azriel crouched in front of you, the dagger sheathed at his thigh once more. The shadows restraining you vanished.

“What the hell are you doing here, my love?”

~~~~~~

You and Azriel had met four years prior.

When you were born—the youngest and only female in a clutch of seven brothers—your father decided to keep you in the shadows. He never publicly acknowledged having a daughter, believing that no one would suspect a girl, thus raising you to serve as his undercover agent. Only your family knew of your existence, and if you hadn't gone mad over the years of confinement, it was only thanks to your sweet mother and Eris.

Beron had spent almost a century training you, molding you into his perfect little spy, and then sent you out into the world for just as long to do exactly what he had taught you.

You were attending a ball in the Day Court the first time you saw Azriel. You had already gathered the intel your father wanted about the honored guests from the Dawn Court, but you had no intention of going home earlier than scheduled. You still had until morning. And when the most beautiful male you had ever seen walked into the room as part of the Night Court delegation, you knew exactly how you wanted to spend your remaining time.

You watched him, taking in his muscular body, the massive wings, and the swirling shadows, until his eyes finally found yours through the crowd. You offered him a gentle yet unwavering smile, and your core clenched at the way he studied you as you approached him. Like he was already imagining pinning you beneath him.

It didn't take long for him to do just that. Within minutes, you found yourself in the room he was staying in, your dress discarded on the floor and his head between your thighs.

You had never felt so good as you did in those few hours.

It was almost dawn by the time you were both spent and sweaty, but you fought against exhaustion. You waited for Azriel to fall asleep, and then you slipped out of the room.

He woke up to an empty bed.

The next time you met him was a few months later. The High Lords and High Lady were all meeting in the Winter Court to discuss Prythian’s situation after the war with Hybern, but your father was paranoid. He ordered you to ensure the other courts weren’t plotting a coup against him.

You had just sneaked out of the suite reserved for the High Lord of the Summer Court and his entourage when shadows pooled at your feet, and your back was slammed against the wall. The air was snatched from your lungs at the impact, leaving you little time to take another breath before a dark dagger pressed against your throat.

Despite having spent just one night together, you immediately recognized your assailant by his scent alone.

“Didn't know you were into this kind of thing,” you drawled, looking up to meet Azriel's gaze. “Kinky. I like it.”

His eyes widened slightly as recognition dawned on him, the blade moving an inch away from your neck but no more. “It's you.”

You knew you should be bothered by the dagger, that this was a powerful male not to be trifled with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when you could still remember how his lips tasted and how good he felt inside you.

“Strange way to meet again, uh?”

Azriel didn't return your smirk, nor did he step away. Instead, his voice was cold as death now that his surprise had faded. “Why are you sneaking into the suites?”

You had mastered the art of weaving lies so long ago that the answer flowed effortlessly from your lips. 

“Cresseida was wearing a beautiful necklace at lunch,” you replied with a shrug. “I wanted to see if she left it in her room.”

His eyes narrowed. “So, you're a petty thief?”

Better than the truth, you thought, though a small part of you longed to confide in him, to tell him everything. A deep, innate feeling of trust had somehow bloomed in your chest. You ignored it.

“I'm a simple girl.” You offered him your most charming smile. “I see a shining jewel, and I want it for myself.”

Azriel hummed, knife still at your throat. His eyes scanned your face and you felt like he could see everything you were trying to conceal, all the secrets you'd kept locked away for years.

“You went through the suites of every Court except Autumn,” he mused, the tip of the blade tracing your jaw. You went utterly still. “Why?”

You didn't know how to answer. You didn't even know how he knew that. You'd been caught red-handed, and you had a feeling that any new lie you concocted would be pointless. So you decided to trust your gut.

“Alright.” You took a deep breath—or as deep as you dared with a sharp dagger pressed against your neck. “I work for Beron. He thinks someone might stage a coup, so he sent me to gather information.”

His eyes, which had been roaming over your features and perhaps lingered a second too long on your lips—though that could just be your imagination—snapped up to meet yours. The blade pressed a fraction harder against your skin, a clear sign of his distrust.

“For Beron?” he repeated. Not a hint of surprise or disdain marked his tone, just that icy coldness, so different from the warm voice he'd used to talk you through it in the Summer Court. “And he fears a coup?”

You wanted to sigh but didn't dare. If only he would sheath that damn dagger…

“Yes, that's what I said. And honestly, if someone does, I'm not surprised. I hope it works out for them.”

Azriel's brow arched.

“I mean, the male's horrible. He deserves it.”

You were aware of the dangerous line you were crossing, speaking of your father—your High Lord—like that to an important member of a rival court. You'd never voiced those thoughts aloud to anyone but Eris, and yet here you were. Beron would punish you if he found out. You were first his subject, then his spy, and only then his daughter.

A scarred hand cupped your jaw, Azriel's face now only inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath on your cheeks. “Why do you work for him, then?” he snarled.

His grip on your chin made it impossible to look away, forcing you to meet his golden eyes. In that moment, you let him see your truth, the honesty and vulnerability you never revealed.

“Because I don't have a choice.”

A heartbeat passed, and then his expression softened. You stilled as his hand moved from your jaw to your cheek.

You had seen his scars months ago and immediately recognized what had caused them. Cauldron knew you always kept yours hidden with a glamor, allowing it to dissipate only in the privacy of your bedroom.

Thinking about all your father had put you through made the reality of the situation slam into you. What if Azriel told your father what you had just said? The Night Court and the Autumn Court were not on good terms, but who knew what political machinations were at play behind closed doors. Beron would consider your words a betrayal and punish you accordingly.

Your worry must have shown on your face because Azriel's thumb brushed over your cheekbone, gentle and reassuring. “Your secret's safe with me,” he said softly. He studied you for a moment, and whatever he saw in your expression seemed to convince him to finally put his dagger back into its scabbard at his thigh.

You took a deep, shaky breath, unsure whether it stemmed from believing him or simply from relief at no longer being threatened.

Now free, his fingers brushed over your throat where his blade had been. There probably was a thin pink line there. His featherlight touch sent shivers down your spine.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured.

Your voice was barely a whisper. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You stared at each other, time seeming to slow down. His shadows peeked from behind his broad shoulders, a few tendrils swirling forward and weaving through your red locks, but your gaze locked on his, your heartbeat quickening. His other hand still cradled your cheek.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured.

“What for?”

‘For lying to you.’

‘For sneaking into your Court’s suite.’

‘Because I can't tell you the whole truth.’

So many easy replies, and all of them true. But one in particular pushed at the corner of your mind, one you hadn't been able to shake for months.

“For walking away right after you fell asleep.”

Something flashed in his eyes, there and gone in an instant, but you didn't recognize what it was. You didn't know him well enough to read every subtle change in his expression. Part of you wished you could.

You waited for him to say something—either to tell you he didn't care or that it wasn't a big deal—but as his silence stretched on, you debated whether you should change the subject or perhaps apologize for bringing it up.

Just as you opened your mouth, Azriel spoke again, but his words were not what you had expected.

“I looked for you the day after,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “But you were gone.”

You couldn't help but stare, so caught off guard that you were completely speechless. You had thought about him often since that night, but you never imagined he might have looked for you in the morning. You were torn between feeling even worse about leaving him and the rapid beat of your heart.

A grin curled your lips as you rested your hands on his chest. Even with his armor on, you could recall the lines of the tattoos swirling across his golden skin, a sliver of black ink peeking from his collar. “I was that good?” you teased.

Azriel chuckled under his breath, the sound like a song to your ears. “You were that good.” He leaned in, his mouth brushing against your ear, teeth grazing your earlobe. “You felt that good wrapped around me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh, igniting a desire that made you want to moan.

“Do you want to do it again?”

He barely gave you time to finish that sentence before his lips claimed yours, eliciting a surprised whimper. Your fingers tangled in his curls, his hands cupped your face, and there was nothing sweet or gentle about the kiss as his body pressed yours against the wall and you began to grind on him.

You parted only to catch your breath, but Azriel was already nipping at your neck, and you tilted your head to grant him more access.

When distant footsteps echoed from a nearby hallway, he didn’t even pull away as shadows wrapped around you both. In an instant, they winnowed you into a bedroom you didn't bother to register, too busy pushing Azriel on the large bed and climbing on top of him.

After that time, you began to plan your meetings. It was often a real challenge to find a moment when both of you could slip away from your duties without raising suspicions, but you couldn't risk your families discovering that you were regularly sleeping with a spy from a rival court.

Then, somewhere along the way, it happened. Sex slowly transformed into making love as you both developed feelings for one another, and around one year later, the mating bond snapped into place. You wanted to accept it, but you couldn't shake the dark cloud looming over your head. It was then that you decided to tell Azriel the truth about who you were, who your father was. He was gone for twenty days after your revelation, and you were left wondering whether it was because you had kept it hidden from him for so long or if he truly had a tight schedule and couldn't make time for a secret rendezvous. But when he finally returned, he assured you that whoever your father was wouldn't change or diminish his love for you. That very night, you offered him food, relief washing over you like a balm.

~~~~~~

And here you were, three years and countless secret meetings later.

“What are you doing here?” Azriel repeated, his voice carrying the usual softness he used when speaking to you, but with an edge of nervousness and impatience.

“My father sent me to retrieve the Veritas Orb,” you explained with a sigh. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to have to lie to your family even more. And… I thought I could do this alone.”

Azriel fell silent, his back stiff, his posture rigid. The shadows had retreated behind his wings. Finally, he asked, “What does he need it for?”

You gave him an apologetic look. “He didn't bother to share that information.”

He nodded, as if he had expected that answer. Rising to his feet, he offered you a hand to help you up from your seat. You took it, his skin cold against your palm, and stood with a frown.

“What do we do now?” you whispered, anxious despite Cassian’s absence. “I didn't mean to bring you into this mess, love.”

Azriel let go of your hand to cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Don't apologize. I know he didn't give you a choice.” He pressed his soft lips to your forehead. “But I can't let you walk out, angel. We need some excuse.”

Right, because letting you leave unscathed and without any information would only get him in trouble with his High Lord. But leaving without the Orb would get you in trouble. And yet, you would rather endure whatever punishment your father would concoct than let your mate deal with the consequences of your reckless actions.

You stepped back, out of the warmth provided by his body. You had a plan, one you knew he wouldn’t like, but it seemed like the only solution to get you both out of this mess with minimal repercussions. Well, for him at least. You doubted Beron would take pity and turn a blind eye to your failure, but it was worth a shot.

“I need you to hurt me.”

His eyes widened, but you went on before he could object. “You can tell Rhysand I was acting alone, that you made sure I won't be a problem anymore, and I’ll go back to Autumn and tell my father I was caught and tortured. But I need you to hurt me and I need you to make it look believable.”

Azriel was gaping. You had never seen him like this before. You knew how your idea sounded, but you needed him to understand the criticality of the situation and agree to it.

“Az, I—”

“No.”

You blinked. “No?”

Something ticked in his jaw, a subtle clench of his muscle. “No,” he repeated, voice firm and unyielding. “I'm not hurting you, love. You can't just ask me to do that. I won't. I can't.”

You studied him for a moment, but you knew he wasn't going to change his mind.

“Fine,” you sighed, extending a hand toward him, palm up. “Then give me Truth-Teller.”

He frowned, and the shadows swirled around him nervously, as if sensing the direction this conversation was taking. “And why would I do that?”

“You won't hurt me, so I'll do it myself,” you replied, as if the answer was obvious.

His eyes widened. “Y/N—”

“Just a few cuts here and there,” you assured him. “Nothing too bad. But my father has to believe it's real.”

Once again, Azriel stared at you, pale as if he had just seen a ghost. “You can't be serious.”

“You have a better idea?” you retorted. Without waiting for his answer, you reached for the dagger at his thigh. The sooner you could get this over with, the better.

Azriel easily sidestepped you, grabbing both your wrists to prevent you from trying to take his knife again. “I'm not letting you hurt yourself either,” he stated. His grip on you was gentle, but his tone was cold. It was the kind of tone that told you he wouldn't take no for an answer.

But neither would you.

“We don't have a choice, Az,” you countered, your voice steady despite the rising tension. Yet you didn't try to free your hands.

Something shifted in his eyes, in his expression. His thumbs brushed over your wrists in soothing motions, and a pleading note entered his voice when he spoke again. “I can't stand to see you hurt, my love. I don't care about the reason.”

For a few seconds, you just stared into each other's eyes. You were still tense and rigid, and fear coiled in your gut at the thought of going back and facing your father. But Azriel's gaze was soft, scarred fingers never ceasing their gentle caresses. In that moment, you realized that he would rather tell his family the truth than let you go back home battered.

And then it hit you. Though you loved the Autumn Court, it wasn't your home. No, your home was Azriel. He had been for years now. Your safe place, the person you could always count on, the one who knew you better than anyone else. Your mate.

“He won't let me leave,” you whispered, and you hated how weak and vulnerable you sounded.

“You're already here.” Azriel lifted your hands to his mouth and pressed a warm kiss on each palm. “You don't need to leave. You just need to stay.”

You shook your head, tears rising to your eyes. “He sent me here. He knows where I am, and he'll come looking or send someone to find me, or—”

“We'll deal with him,” he interrupted you. “But you'll be safe here. I promise.”

You couldn't hold back the tears, then. He sounded so sure, as if it could ever be that simple. As if you could just make the choice to stay and never go back. You wished you could. With all your heart, you wished it could be as simple as that.

“Az, I… I can't,” you murmured, voice trembling.

He let go of your wrists to cup your cheeks, wiping away your tears. “I will protect you,” he reassured softly. “My whole family will, once they know the truth. You will be safe in the Night Court. And if not, then… then we'll go somewhere else, somewhere far away where Beron won't find us.”

We. Us.

For how long had you wished to hear those words? Even after you two had met, you had never truly been a couple. You had stolen moments whenever you could, but it was always you and him—your duties and his. Never a ‘we’, never an ‘us’.

“Stay.”

You closed your eyes, unable to hold his pleading gaze any longer.

“Stay in the Night Court.”

You swallowed, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders as if it were a physical burden. “Az…”

“Stay with me.” His voice broke, vulnerability spilling into every word. “Please.”

What if it were that easy? What if you could make the decision and simply not go back to the Autumn Court? What if you could spend every day and every night with the person you loved with all your heart, with your mate, and not having to hide, to carefully plan every meeting, to weave lie after lie to everyone around you?

When you opened your eyes, Azriel was staring at you. He was still brushing away your tears, but even through their veil, you could see how beautiful he was. How desperate. How broken.

And you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His eyes immediately lit up. “Okay?”

“Yes,” you confirmed despite the quiver in your voice. “Yes, I'm… I’m staying. With you.”

You barely had time to finish the sentence before he pulled you into his arms, your face pressed against his chest as he held you tight. You let yourself go, surrendering to the tears and the sobs shaking your body, clutching his leathers to keep your hands from trembling.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your hair, over and over. “Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

You didn't know how long you just stood there. Minutes, hours, days—it didn't matter. You were together now, and you would always be from this moment on. You were home, and never again would you suffer at the hands of your father.

His shadows swarmed around you, caressing your back and arms, twisting in your hair as if they, too, were excited about what would happen next. You didn't know. For the first time in your life, the future was bright, and happiness was within your grasp.

You pulled back only when your tears ran dry. Azriel pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you both smiled, brightly and lovingly, knowing you would not leave each other again.

“Let's get you out of here,” he said eventually, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers. “There's so much to do.”

Like meeting his family. Revealing your identity, who you were and what you did, and hoping they would understand and not hold it against you.

As Azriel stepped back to turn toward the door, you hesitated.

“Can you promise me something?” you asked, your voice quiet and still a bit hoarse from crying.

He stopped, worried eyes immediately searching your face for any sign of discomfort or concern. “Of course, love. Anything you want.”

“It's nothing too big, just…” You offered a small smile and squeezed his fingers. “No more secrets, Az.”

His hazel eyes softened, and his lips curled into a beautiful smile. He nodded, tugging gently on your hand to lead you out of the cell and into your new life. “No more secrets.”

2nd a/n: if the lines "Stay / Stay in the Night Court / Stay with me" reminded you of another very similar quote, you are correct. I had originally written "Stay in the Night Court. Just... stay with me" and it made me think of that quote, which is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite books and said by one of my favorite characters ever, so I decided to include it (a little easter egg, if you will). Kaz and Azriel 🤝 simping for the girl they like

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[f1goat]

roommates ; lando norris + part six

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: smut & not proofread

You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry when you hear the girl talking to Lando. He’s barely responding to her, but still. It’s so clear to you. Lando doesn’t care about you. That silly crush of yours? You need to get rid of it. How faster, how better. When they walk inside the living room, it doesn’t take longer then a second for Lando to see you sitting on the couch. 

While Lando is busy staring at you and thinking about what to say, you can’t stop looking at the girl he bought home with him. Is it bad that she kinda reminds you of yourself? She’s wearing the same sort of dress you were wearing on your ‘date’ with your ex. Her hair is the same color and about as long as yours. It must be a coincidence. 

Lando feels so ashamed right now. The night he goes for the most pathetic way, is the night you see it happen. Fucking hell. He hasn’t drunk enough to handle with this. When he saw Emily earlier at the club, at least if he got her name right, he could only see the dress she’s wearing. Exactly like yours from earlier. Then he saw how she had some other things that reminded him of you. It felt like the only solution for tonight. 

“Uh,” Emily clearly feels the tension between Lando and you. “She’s not your girlfriend right?” She asks awkwardly. 

“No,” you quickly reply. 

Lando doesn’t even know what to say. He can only feel ashamed right now. Fuck. You keep looking at Emily and him. He knows that you see it as well, it’s not hard to miss that Emily looks like you. This is embarrassing. It feels even more embarrassing that she’s a cheap knockoff compared to you. He lets out an annoyed sigh. Fuck, he really fucked things up with this. 

Now that he thinks about it, he wonders why he even brought the girl home with him. How longer he looks at her, how less she reminds him of you. Tonight was about proving that you’re wrong, not about proving the other way around. Why did he even bring her with him? It’s desperate, really.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” you softly say while standing up from the couch. Is it that bad that you’re disappointed in this? You feel like some sort of fool. Why did you even wait up? Why did you want to know about this? You feel yourself getting more sad with the second. Slowly you walk away. When you walk past Lando, he’s quick to grab your shoulder. It makes you even more sad. 

“Don’t leave like this,” he softly says, “Let’s talk.”

You feel the anger running through your veins right now. You aren’t thinking about what you’re saying right now. “I don’t think your girlfriend is here to talk,” you sneer to him, “and neither am I. Not anymore at least.”

“Let me explain,” Lando pleas with a soft voice.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you state, “We’re nothing. It’s not like we’re friends or anything. You lied to me before, I don’t trust you anymore. We’re even less then nothing now.”

“Don’t act like this,” Lando replies. You see the pain in his eyes, but for now you don’t care about that. He did this to himself. He’s the one who bought her home, not you. If it’s up to you he feels all kind of pain right now, he deserves it. 

“Don’t act like what?” You ask annoyed, “Can’t I tell you that we’re not friends, or anything else? Or can’t I tell you that I don’t care about you? You do you Lando. I really don’t give a fuck. So go have sex with your new girlfriend over here.”

“Shut up,” Lando groans. 

“Or what?” You reply angrily. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Lando continues. 

“I mean every word of what I just said,” you lie. Of course you don’t mean anything about it. You thought that Lando and you were finally becoming friendly with each other, you even hoped for more. Fuck this is really bad. It even pains you to say those words to him, but you don’t feel like you have another choice. 

“Stop lying,” Lando says with a louder voice this time. He almost seems angry this time. The frustration is obvious. 

“I don’t care Lando. Do whatever you want, go fuck with her or another girl. I really don’t care about it,” you tell him with the same frustration, “just make sure that you’re not moaning out my name again.” 

“Shut up,” Lando groans. The angry undertone in his voice is getting more clear now. You match it.

“Make me,” you reply angrily. 

You’re painfully aware about how close Lando and you are standing towards each other. He isn’t holding your shoulder anymore, but you feel every breath of him on your face. At this moment you want nothing more then for Lando to snap. It feels like you’re pretty close to make that happen. You wonder what will happen next. Will he scream at you? Or would he shut you up another way? Some way you prefer?

Lando takes a step closer towards you. His nose is almost pressed against yours. The space between to two of you gets only smaller. You wonder if you need to say something else, but then Lando continues to talk. 

“You want me to shut you up?” He asks you. His voice isn’t angry anymore, it doesn’t even seems frustrated anymore. It’s almost scarily calm for what’s happening. You notice how Lando doesn’t look away from you. The girl he bought home with him is still here, but it seems like Lando has forgotten about her. Not that you mind. Why hasn’t she left yet anyway?

“Yes,” you state boldly. 

Lando doesn’t think about the possible outcomes of his next movement. He stops thinking about everything he wants to do right now and for once just does something. Still annoyed and frustrated with the whole evening - and mostly with himself, he finally snaps. He grabs your waist, and pulls you almost into himself. Before you can react he lifts up your chin with a soft, but forceful movement. He gives you one last look in the eyes before closing his own eyes and slamming his lips against yours. 

You didn’t expect him to do this. Fuck, you really didn’t. But it’s insane how good it feels. Lando his lips are soft, even softer then you thought they would be. His kiss reflects the way he’s feeling, it’s messy but it does fit the moment. You can probably kiss him like this for the rest of the night.  And many nights more. If he would let you. Maybe it isn’t Lando who doesn’t support that idea, it’s the girl from earlier who distracts you from each other. 

“What the fuck!” She loudly screams. “Why did you even bring me here?” She continues to ask, “This is fucking insane.” 

“Just leave,” Lando sighs annoyed. He doesn’t move away from you in the mean time. You’re still trapped in his arms. Without saying a word, but with a small grin plastered on your face, you watch everything amused. It seems like she doesn’t want to leave like this. The girl is still fuming and making all kind of remarks at Lando. While he only tries to get her to leave. 

Eventually Lando needs to let go of you to walk her outside. You still hear her screaming in the hallway. It makes you giggle. Of course, it’s bad that Lando treated her like this - but for once, you’re glad about it. It would be way worse if he fucked her. You hear the front door close, after that there’s a peaceful silence. No more screams from the girl. No more arguments between Lando and you. 

When Lando returns to you, he’s busy thinking about what to do next. Should he continue with what he was doing? Or should he apologize? He has no idea what you think about all of this. What if he kissed you without you agreeing with it? When he sees you leaning on the wall and waiting for him with a small, but really satisfied grin plastered on your face, Lando is quick to forget about all his worries. He rushes himself back to you, only to press his lips on yours for the second time that night. 

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he grunts after pulling back.

“Says you,” you reply softly.

Lando doesn’t reply verbally this time. He softly pins you against the wall and presses his lips against yours for the third time tonight. Now that he knows how it feels to kiss with you, he never wants to stop with it. He can’t miss this feeling. 

You can safely state that you have never been kissed better then this. It’s not like you want to give yourself hope, but Lando kisses you like there’s no-one else he ever wants to kiss again. You can only hope that it actually is that way. Mainly because you’re sure that you never want to kiss anyone else again if it isn’t Lando. 

“Fuck Lan,” you softly whimper when he pulls back again. 

He looks at you. The way he stares at you makes you shiver. His eyes pierce through yours. “What babygirl?” Lando asks you. He’s afraid that you have come to your senses, that he should stop this. You probably don’t want this, he guesses. 

“Don’t stop,” you softly tell him with red cheeks. 

“Sorry, I’ll stop,” Lando mutters a bit disappointed. You show him a confused look, didn’t he hear you? You don’t even know why he’s thinking about stopping. The only good thing about him mishearing you, is that he seems disappointed to stop. That’s interesting. 

“I said don’t stop,” you tell him a bit louder this time. 

This time it’s Lando who shows you a confused look. He has no idea what’s happening to him. Before he can even ask if you’re sure, you already surprise him again. This time it’s you who pulls him closer towards yourself. Lando doesn’t even know what’s happening anymore. It seems like you do want this as well? He thought you lost yourself in the moment, but now he’s not so sure about that anymore. 

He can’t help himself anymore now. His tongue is inside your mouth and battling yours for dominance. Lando can’t hold himself back. If this is the only night he’ll experience this, he needs to experience as much of you as he can. When you let out a soft moan during making out with Lando, it only arouses him more. He feels his pants tighten around a particular spot. Softly he pins you against the wall again. He removes his lips from yours, only to connect them with your neck. 

It makes you let out a soft moan. How is Lando making you feel like this in only a matter of time? You must be losing your mind. Your focus is quick to disappear when Lando his hands start to explore your body as well. His hands are everywhere, at least that’s how it feels like. 

“Let me make it up to you,” he eventually tells you. 

“Make it up to me?” You ask confused. What’s he talking about. 

“For bringing her home,” Lando confesses, “I really shouldn’t have done that.”

Slowly you nod. “That’s a lot to make up for,” you softly say. 

Lando nods as well. “Thank god we have a lot of time,” he jokes. You show him a small grin. That’s enough confirmation for him right now. Within seconds he picks you up. You’re surprised about his strength. He’s actually walking you to his room like this. When you reach his bedroom, Lando softly drops you onto his bed. He joins you on the bed, hovering above you while pressing kisses on your cheeks, forehead, nose and every other spot he can find to press his lips against. 

It takes you a lot to withhold yourself from letting out loud moans whenever Lando does something. When Lando kisses you against your neck and softly sucks on a small bit of your skin, you can’t hold them back anymore. You let out a loud moan. 

“Lan,” you softly whimper.

“You better keep calling me that,” Lando softly tells you. You show him a small smile. He let himself down on the bed next to you. You’re quick to move yourself closer towards Lando. Within a couple seconds you have yourself pressed up against him again. Lando looks at you full lust. “Needy babygirl?” Lando asks you. 

You can only nod. You feel your cheeks redden up. It almost feels embarrassing, but you really can’t stop feeling like this right now. The things Lando is doing to you, while almost doing nothing to you, are actually insane. Lando moves himself again. This time he positions himself sitting right next to you. Softly he pulls you up as well. He toys with the hem of your sweater, looking at you with questioning eyes while doing so. You show him a small nod, hoping that he understands the hint. He does. Slowly Lando pulls off your sweater. 

When he sees that you’re wearing nothing underneath your sweater, he softly gasps. “Fuck babygirl,” he mutters while looking at your boobs. He notices the way your nipples have hardened, he wants nothing more then to put them into his mouth. For now he withholds himself from actually doing so. He does however move his attention towards your leggings. Suddenly he can’t think about anything else then seeing you naked. 

It’s you who is quick to discard the leggings you were wearing. Lando can’t believe his eyes when you start to pull of the leggings. When the leggings have joined your sweater on the floor, Lando can’t stop staring at you anymore. Softly he lets his hands wander over your body, stopping by your string. After this there’s no way back. Not that he can trust himself to stop now, but after seeing you completely naked he’s sure that he can’t stop anymore. 

You let out a soft moan when Lando traces your string with his fingers. “Take it off please,” you beg Lando. 

“Sure babygirl?” Lando asks you, “Because I don’t think I can stop myself anymore after seeing you naked.” He needs to know for sure that you want this as well. 

“Please,” you continue to beg, “Just take if off already.”

Lando doesn’t need to know anything else for now. He is quick to pull down your string. When he tosses it on the floor as well, he can’t tear his eyes of you. You’re beautiful. Words are leaving his mouth rather quickly, he can’t even think about what he’s saying anymore. 

“You look so beautiful,” he murmurs. You show him a small smile. “Imagined this for years,” he grunts, “You look even better then in my dreams.” Is Lando confessing that he dreamt about you? What’s going on? “Can I touch you?” Lando suddenly asks you, you’re quick to stammer out a yes. 

Lando is quick to come into action after hearing your yes. Suddenly he’s everywhere at once. You feel him exploring your naked body. His lips are pressing kisses on your neck, but he’s fast to move down lower. Eventually he reaches your boobs. He sends you one more asking look to know you’re sure about this, which you are quick to confirm to. After that Lando closes his lips around one of your nipples, while softly kneading your other tit. It causes you to let out a loud moan, something that Lando seems to like. 

Everything is getting to much for you rather quickly. It’s been a while since the last time you’ve had sex and with a thin walled room next to Lando, masturbating wasn’t one of your options lately. The way Lando discovers your body is making you lose your mind. You need to feel him as well. You start to toy with the hem of his shirt, trying to make clear to him that he should take it off. Lando doesn’t budge. 

When Lando moves down on your body again and presses kisses against your lower stomach, you’re sure that you’ll be losing your mind. When one of his kisses is almost pressed against your cunt, you almost let out a scream. Fuck it’s actually insane how much you need him to do something to you. Who would have thought that Lando is the one who can make you feel like this? Now that you think of it, you’re not that surprised. 

“Ohh Lan,” you softly moan out when Lando gets even closer towards your more private parts. Lando lets out a low groan. “I need to taste you,” Lando grunts. 

“Please do,” you moan. 

That’s all Lando needed to hear. He dresses himself down in no time. His shirt and pants join your clothes on the bedroom floor. Then he spread your legs for himself. “Such a pretty cunt,” Lando softly mutters while looking at you. He really can’t believe that this is happening. 

“Do something,” you softly beg. 

Lando doesn’t wait any longer anymore. He presses kisses against your cunt in a taunting slow pace. It makes you crazy. “More,” you whimper. Lando listens to you. Like some sort of madman he starts to lick your pussy. His tongue is everywhere at once. You don’t even try to hold back your moans anymore. They are leaving your mouth again and again. It seems that Lando likes it as well. 

“You’re making such pretty sounds for me,” Lando tells you adoringly. It gives you a warm feeling on the inside. You’re probably red already, but otherwise you’d be sure that this would be the reason. “Such a good girl,” Lando continues to praise you. 

Lando slowly lets one of his fingers slide inside of you. Moving it in a rather fast pace while connecting his lips to your clit. Softly he sucks it inside of his mouth. When he releases, you let out a loud moan again. You feel your orgasm getting closer. 

“Fuck me,” you try to order Lando. 

Lando stops his movements. “Fuck you?” He asks you confused.

“I need to feel you inside me,” you confess. 

“What about asking nicely?” Lando asks you teasingly. He always thought you’d be a bit of a brat and it turns out that he’s right. However, what he didn’t expect was how easily it would be to turn you into a begging mess.

“Please Lan,” you beg him without even thinking about it. “Please let me feel you fill me up,” you continue, “Please fuck me.” Begs are leaving your lips like prayers. Lando has never felt so aroused in his life before. He always thought it would be different with you, more intense for sure, but he didn’t expect it to be this much better with you. He’s still wearing his boxers, but he has never felt this close to an orgasm before. You’re making him lose his mind. 

Lando already knows that when he has felt you around his cock for the first time, there’s no one else who would ever feel better around it anymore. He knows for a fact that when he fucks you, he ruins sex for himself for the rest of his life. But still, that doesn’t stop him from pulling down his boxershorts and letting his cock spring to freedom. 

You’re greedily grabbing his boner, needing to feel it in your hands before he puts it inside you. Slowly you stroke his dick, Lando lets out a loud moan. It feels good to pull a sound like this out of him. You want to hear every sound you can get out of him. 

“Princess,” Lando grunts, “You have to stop doing that, otherwise I’ll cum before even fucking you.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” You ask Lando. Fuck, you feel like a brat but you can’t stop yourself. You never felt like this before. No one ever made you feel like this. Lando can only grin when he hears your remark. 

“Always thought you would be a brat,” he tells you with a dangerously low voice. It makes you even more turned on. “Sorry,” you whimper.

“Never apologize for that babygirl,” Lando is quick to reassure you, “I always liked the thought.” Before you can react again, Lando continues to talk. “And I always liked the thought of you being my brat even more,” he confesses. You don’t know what to say. At this moment you don’t have to say anything, Lando comes closer towards you and starts to line up his cock with your entrance. 

“You still want this?” Lando asks you.

“Please,” you beg.

That’s all Lando needed to hear. He pushes himself inside of you. Within seconds he’s setting a ungodly pace. You can’t even think straight anymore right now. The only thing that’s in your mind is how good Lando is fucking you. Sex never felt like this before. You wonder if anyone else will ever make it feels like this. You don’t think so. Lando is probably ruining you. And you would let him do it again every time he wants to. 

“Fuck,” you whimper when you feel your orgasm reaching again. Lando makes all kind of sounds in the mean time. You love every single one of them. Every small or big grunt, moan and groan makes you even more aroused. 

“You feel fucking perfect,” Lando groans. He increases his pace even more. “I’m so fucking close,” he adds almost ashamed. 

“Me too,” you confess.

Lando didn’t lie about how close he already was. He feels himself almost crashing down because of his upcoming orgasm. He tries to fuck you as hard as he can manage, pushing and pulling in and out of you with a rapid pace. “Fuck,” you almost scream when Lando keeps increasing his pace. “I’m coming,” you tell Lando pretty quickly after that.

You feel the orgasm washing over you. It’s never been as intense as now. Lando tries to pull himself back, remembering for the first time that he didn’t use any kind of protection. Your legs are firmly wrapped on his body, you’re not letting him go. 

“Pill,” you softly explain. Lando nods and pushes himself deeper back into you. He feels his load coming out of him and entering you. 

“Fucking hell babygirl,” Lando grunts a couple minutes later when he feels more relaxed again. His orgasm has left his body. He feels calm again. “That was,” Lando starts a sentence he doesn’t know how to finish. It was so many things, mind-blowing, the best sex of his life and he can go on like this. 

“A mistake,” you finish his sentence. You already feel sad about the words you just said, but you know that it’s for the better to call it a mistake. “This can’t happen again,” you sigh. 

Lando doesn’t know what to think right now. “A mistake?” He asks you confused, “Was it that bad?”

“No,” you’re quick to deny, “I think, no I know that this was the best sex I’ve ever had. But we can’t do this again Lando, I’m not the one for one night stands.”

“I never called this an one night stand,” Lando is quick to tell you. “Let’s talk tomorrow about this babygirl. I want to sleep and I want you next to me.” 

It’s probably the most stupid thing you can do, but you agree to Lando his wishes. You let yourself fall asleep next to Lando. He cuddles up against you and does the exact same thing, but not before wondering how he’s going to make sure that this will happen again. 

part seven

a/n; finaaaaally some tension :) there's more to come! hope everyone likes it <3

taglist: @booksandflowrs @hiireadstuff @likedbygaslyy @dreamsarebig @f1fantasys

@samantha-chicago @sweatrevenge5436-blog @queenofmanydreams @fionamiller123

@chezmardybum @f-1-lover-16 @formulaal @shellybee456 @sltwins

@mouchii @emyladia @v3rnom @customsbyjcg-blog @cthgee @moonclaine

@scarletwidow3000 @bokutos-babyowl @loloekie @lyannesworld @silentreader128

@oreosareara @gabotomo @princesspristins @leclercsluv @lina505

@sideboobrry11 @zucchinimalfoy @danielshoe @alana4610 @viannasthings

@toriiez @randomnessis-mine-me @cmleitora

@kika-writes @fionamiller123 @noneofyourfbusinessworld @lqvesoph @lyannesworld

@sheeeesthings @ssararuffoni @f1fantasys @chrissiekitty19-blog @voidsfics

@curbthatmf @m41-k1tt3n @f1fantasys @m41-k1tt3n @allywthsr

@curbthatmf @sheeeesthings @m41-k1tt3n @blacksoul-27 @f1fantasys

@spideylovin @splzq @chcolateeyelver @bennywattsgf @mswwvaleska

@lifesass @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @insunia

@m41-k1tt3n @aerie717 @wtsc0ns @dripostsstuff

@saachiep81 @misspygmypie

[lyvhie]

hai!!! could i request a idol! mark smut :(( where reader is missing him but hes too busy with work but then he surprises her over the new years!!!

happy new year to u!!! <3 sending u hugs and kisses

a nice surprise | lee mark

mark lee x fem!reader (18+ mdni) ꒰ summary ꒱ you were already expecting to spend another special occasion alone, but your boyfriend just wanted to surprise you. ꒰ a/n ꒱ little edit! OOPS IT WASNT AN ANON HELP MEEE!! IM SORRY, CUTIE I DIDNT SEE YOUR NAME thats embarrassing omg 🫣 happy new year to you too! i'm sorry it took me so long to write, i was really sick 😖 BUT I FINISHED!! i hope you like it and ALSO wishing you aaaall the best this year, mwah! 💖 ꒰ cw ꒱ smut, oral (f), unprotected sex, pet names.

When you started dating a famous person, you knew things wouldn’t be easy. Paparazzi, overzealous fans, and the constant need for caution every time you stepped outside, those challenges came with the territory. You’d prepared yourself for it, and over time, those things became just another part of your daily routine, barely registering as problems anymore.

What you hadn’t expected, though, was how difficult the distance would be.

Being away from Mark for days, weeks, sometimes even months, felt like torture. The only thing keeping you sane was the existence of technology—video calls, texts, and voice messages filled the gaps when he was free. But it wasn’t the same. There were nights when the loneliness hit harder than usual, when a screen or the sound of his voice through the phone just couldn’t replace the warmth of his presence. You didn’t just want him; you needed him there, right beside you.

But you knew that, no matter how much you longed for his presence, things couldn’t just change on a whim. Mark couldn’t simply drop everything he was doing to spend a day with you—even though he’d suggested it more times than you could count. The thought alone made your heart ache and swell at the same time, knowing how much he cared but also understanding the weight of his responsibilities.

Still, Mark always found a way to remind you that you were on his mind, no matter how far apart you were. Like the random voice notes he’d send in the middle of the night, whispering about his day because he knew you'd listen to them first thing in the morning. Or the surprise delivery of your favorite snacks and flowers with a note that simply read, "Thinking of you. Always."

It wasn’t the same as having him there, but it was enough to keep you going.

“So… you really won’t be here tonight?” The disappointment in your voice was clear as you lay on your bed, hugging the pillow tightly and pressing your cellphone against your ear. “You couldn’t make it for Christmas, and now this…”

He was supposed to come home today, and at least start the year with you after weeks without seeing each other. But something went wrong with their flight, and now they’d have to wait two more days to board another plane. Two days might not seem like much, but after being apart for so long, the thought of waiting two more days felt like an eternity.

“I know it’s frustrating, I really wanted to be there with you,” you could hear his sigh on the other end of the line. “I promise I’m doing everything I can to get home to you as soon as possible. These two days will fly by, I’ll make it up to you when I get there. Just a little longer, okay? I miss you so much.”

The warmth in his voice made the ache in your chest a little more bearable, but it still didn’t take away the longing you felt. “I miss you too, love, you have no idea,” you said, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I wanna see you so bad, Mark.”

“I know,” he replied softly. “I wanna see you too. Just hang in there for me, okay? I’ll be there before you know it.” Before he could say more, you heard faint voices in the background followed by his hum. “Baby, I… I hate to do this, but my manager’s calling me. I have to go,” he said reluctantly.

“It’s okay,” you chuckled softly, imagining the little pout that was surely on his face. “Go do what you need to do.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay? Promise. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And just like that, the call ended, leaving the room enveloped in quiet once more, the only sound now your soft breathing. You let out a long sigh, staring at the ceiling. It was just you and the silence again.

But the quiet didn’t last long. Three firm knocks on your front door echoed through the room, loud enough to pull you from your thoughts. You glanced at the time on your phone—it wasn’t exactly the hour for unannounced visits, and you weren’t expecting anyone. Well, not anymore, anyway. Maybe it was your neighbor, they had an uncanny knack for finding reasons to complain about the tiniest sounds.

You let out a small groan and shouted, “I’m coming!” as another knock sounded, dragging yourself out of bed.

“Hi, how can I—” The words died on your lips the moment you saw who was standing at the door. Your eyes widened, and your jaw slackened as your hand remained frozen on the doorknob.

“Hey, beautiful,” Mark greeted you with that boyish smile you adored, a cute teddy bear in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. The sight of him left you speechless, your heart racing as if it couldn’t quite believe what it was seeing.

Before you knew it, you had thrown yourself into his arms, the force of your embrace nearly causing the teddy bear and chocolates to slip from his grip. He caught you effortlessly, as if he had been waiting for this moment as much as you had. Your arms tightened around him, your face burying into his shoulder as his familiar scent washed over you, sweeping away the loneliness of the past weeks in an instant.

Mark managed to nudge the door shut behind him and guided you both further inside. Without breaking the hug, he set the teddy bear and chocolates down on a nearby surface, his hands quickly finding their way back to you. His arms wrapped around you firmly now, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let go.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands cupping his face as if making sure he was real. “You’re really here?” you asked softly, your eyes scanning every inch of his familiar features.

“I’m really here,” he replied with a chuckle, leaning into your touch. He couldn’t help but find it adorable how you stared at him like he was some kind of alien. Covering your hand with his, he turned his head slightly to press a tender kiss to your palm.

“So… all that stuff about the airplane was a lie?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. His cheeky grin was all the answer you needed.

“I wanted to make a—” he started, but his explanation was cut off as your hands playfully squished his cheeks.

“Mark Lee!” you scolded, though the smile breaking across your face betrayed your mock anger.

Mark laughed softly as he tried to wiggle free from your hands, his grin never leaving his face. “Okay, okay, I deserved that,” he said, eyes sparkling with affection. “I thought it would be a good surprise, sorry.”

You let go of his cheeks, your hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders, then gently on his chest as you looked up at him. There was a moment of silence, the playful energy from before softening into something deeper, more intimate. You searched his eyes, your voice quieter, more sincere.

“And it was,” you whispered, your heart full as you leaned in slightly. “God, it was. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m finally here too, I missed you so much,” Mark said softly, his voice thick with emotion. It was his turn to cup your face gently between his hands, his gaze soft as he looked at you, almost as if he was memorizing the moment. Without another word, he leaned in, bringing his lips to yours in a warm, affectionate kiss that felt like home, his love for you pouring into every second.

The kiss lingered for a moment, slow and tender, as if both of you were savoring the reunion, letting the warmth of each other fill the space between you. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together.

“You’re really here,” you whispered again, as if you couldn’t quite believe it, the words tumbling out like a soft confession.

Mark chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m here, baby. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a rush of relief and joy flooding through you. You leaned in again, kissing him once more, this time deeper, pulling him even closer, as if you couldn't get enough. Mark’s hand found its way to the back of your neck, his other hand sliding down to your waist, rubbing slow circles that made you melt into him.

“Mmh, I missed that too,” he murmured against your lips, his smile evident in his voice as his hands toyed with the waistband of your pants.

“Mark…” you tried to sound stern, your tone a mix of warning and amusement as you attempted to pull away. But he wasn’t having it, his lips quickly chasing yours, capturing them in another kiss.

“What?” he asked innocently, though the playful glint in his eyes betrayed him. His hands slid lower, cupping your ass with a firm squeeze that had your breath hitching, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “You act like you don’t like it,” he teased, his voice low and dripping with affection.

You rolled your eyes, though the warmth spreading through your chest made it hard to be truly annoyed. “I didn’t say that,” you muttered, trying to keep a straight face.

“Exactly,” he smirked, his grip on you tightening slightly. “So let me make up for all the time I’ve been away.”

Before you could say anything more, he silenced you with another kiss, gently guiding you backward toward the bedroom. You didn’t try to protest or stop him, simply letting the moment continue as your arms wrapped around his neck. As you passed through the bedroom door, Mark felt his mind drift into a state of calm. The entire space carried your scent, wrapping around him like a warm embrace. It was just another one of the countless things he missed—the feeling of being surrounded by everything that reminded him of you.

Mark gently laid you down on the bed, his lips staying connected to yours as he followed you. The comforting weight of his body against yours made everything else fade away. His kisses began to wander, trailing from your jaw to your neck, then down to your collarbone and the delicate valley between your breasts.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, watching his every move as your heart pounded in your chest, loud enough that you were sure he could hear it. With slow, deliberate movements, he lifted your shirt, his lips continuing their journey downward, leaving a trail of warm, lingering kisses along your belly. The soft sensation sent a ripple of tingles through you, drawing a quiet chuckle from your lips.

Mark glanced up at the sound, a side smile gracing his lips before he returned to his path, stopping just at the waistband of your pants. His gaze lifted to meet yours again, the intensity in his eyes stealing your breath and leaving you speechless, your entire body attuned to his next move.

Mark’s hands lingered at your waistband, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin, igniting a trail of warmth that made your breath catch. His gaze never wavered from yours, searching your eyes as if silently asking for permission. When you nodded, the smallest movement, he leaned up to kiss you again. Soft, tender, and unhurried, as though he wanted to savor every second. His hands worked deftly, slipping your pants down inch by inch, his lips following their descent with featherlight kisses that sent shivers up your spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as his lips traced a path along the inside of your thighs. Every kiss, every gentle press of his hands, carried a tenderness that left no doubt about how much he’d missed you, full of care and unspoken longing.

Your heart raced as you took him in, the contrast of his soft, adoring gaze and the undeniably seductive way he moved leaving you breathless. He looked so unfairly perfect—both sweet and completely enticing—positioned between your legs, his intentions written clearly in his eyes.

“Mark…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your fingers found their way to his hair, tugging lightly. You weren’t even sure if it was meant to ground yourself or encourage him further, but the smirk that tugged at his lips told you he knew exactly the effect he was having on you.

And you didn’t need to say anything more. His mouth had already found its way to your center, the thin fabric of your underwear doing little to shield you from the heat of his tongue as it teased over the delicate material. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, your breath coming in a long, shaky sigh as your eyes dropped to meet his. The way he looked at you, so intent and unrelenting, only made the anticipation coil tighter in your core.

He didn’t make you wait long. His tongue moved purposefully, pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves even through the fabric, a sensation so electrifying it had your fingers clutching the sheets beside you. The soft suction that followed had a breathy moan slipping from your lips, unbidden and raw.

“Mark…” you whispered his name again, your voice a mix of need and surrender, your hips subtly arching toward him, silently begging for more.

His only answer was a soft hum that sent a gentle vibration through you, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips. His teeth gently tugged at your panties, pulling them down slowly, all while his gaze remained locked on yours.

Needless to say, you were already dripping, and that sight made his heart swell with pride. No matter how many times he found himself in this position, the view of you laid out before him always felt as thrilling as the first time. His gaze lingered for a moment, taking in every detail before he leaned in, planting a soft kiss on your clit.

The gentle press of his lips against your sensitive spot sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, making you gasp softly. His tongue darted out, circling around the delicate bundle of nerves with a teasing precision that had your eyes fluttering shut and your head falling back against the pillow.

He watched your reaction, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, before sliding his tongue down, parting your slick folds and licking through your slit. His movements were slow, deliberate, savoring every taste as he explored you.

Another moan left your lips as he continued, the warmth of his mouth combined with the skillful flicks of his tongue driving you crazy. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he worked, his own excitement growing with every shudder and whimper he drew from you.

His tongue continued its journey, alternating between long, languid licks and quick, focused flicks over your clit, building you up slowly, savoring every moment of your pleasure.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, gently pulling as your hips moved instinctively against his mouth. The sensation of his tongue, combined with the heat pooling in your core, was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself getting closer with each stroke.

Mark glanced up, catching the blissed-out expression on your face, and it only spurred him on. He flattened his tongue, dragging it up slowly from your entrance to your clit, then wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking gently. The change in pressure had you gasping, your thighs trembling around his head.

“You taste so good," he murmured against your skin, the words sending a shiver down your spine. His hands now gripped your hips tighter, anchoring you as he continued to work his magic, bringing you closer and closer to the release you craved.

Your breaths came quicker, each exhale accompanied by a moan. "Mark... I'm so close," you whimpered, your voice strained with need.

He didn't let up, his tongue moving in perfect rhythm, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from you. One of his hands slipped down, his thumb finding your clit to rub in tandem with his tongue, sending you over the edge.

Your body tensed, a wave of ecstasy washing over you as you came undone beneath him. A cry of his name escaped your lips, your back arching as he continued to lap at you, helping you ride out the high.

As the tremors subsided, he pulled back slightly, pressing soft kisses along your inner thighs, his eyes filled with satisfaction and adoration. He crawled up to meet your gaze, brushing a stray hair from your face and leaning in to capture your lips in a slow, lingering kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands roamed down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, your fingers slipping under his shirt, tugging at the fabric. Mark's breath hitched slightly, the desire in his eyes deepening as he pulled back just enough to shed his shirt, revealing his bare chest. You ran your hands over his skin, savoring the warmth beneath your fingertips as he leaned down, capturing your lips again.

He shifted, pressing himself against you, and you could feel the hard outline of his arousal through his pants. Your hand moved between you, palming him gently, eliciting a soft groan from his lips, your touch becoming more intended as you began to unbutton his pants, sliding them down his hips.

He kicked them off, his body pressing back into yours as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Mark positioned himself, his forehead resting against yours as he slowly pushed into you, the both of you releasing a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“You feel so good," he whispered, his hands cradling your face as he kissed you deeply. Mark's movements remained gentle, each thrust slow and purposeful, as if he wanted to memorize every sensation, every reaction from you. The room was filled with soft sighs and the quiet rustle of sheets as you clung to him.

His pace quickened slightly, the friction building a delicious tension between you both. You arched into him, your hands threading through his hair as you whispered, "I'm close again.” The sensitivity from your previous climax heightened every sensation, making your body tremble beneath him.

Mark's forehead pressed against yours, his eyes locking with yours as he adjusted his angle slightly, hitting the perfect spot that had you gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Let go for me, love" he coaxed, his voice soothing, full of love.

With his encouragement, you felt the wave of pleasure cresting again, your body tensing as you cried out his name. The intensity of your release pulled him closer to the edge, and with a few more thrusts, he followed. A groan escaped his lips as he pulled out, spilling himself onto your belly, the warmth of his release spreading between you as he shuddered, his breath ragged.

Mark collapsed gently beside you, his breathing ragged as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close. The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, and the soft rise and fall of his chest helped calm your racing heart.

For a while, you both stayed like that, in silence, just holding each other, the only sound in the room was the soft rhythm of your breaths, gradually returning to normal. The warmth of his body pressed against yours was comforting, and neither of you felt the need to break the tranquility of the moment.

Mark kissed the top of your head and was about to speak when a loud thud echoed from the wall of the bedroom. His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked at you, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern and you couldn't help but burst into laughter, the sound filling the room.

"I guess we made the neighbor mad again."

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[apomaro-mellow]

Steve gets the wrong number and starts texting an interesting guy. Steddie, modern au, no upside down

Steve had been feeling pretty good. He’d gone out, had a nice conversation with a girl at the bar and gotten her number. He didn’t feel sparks but she was nice and cute. They didn’t talk about anything too deep but when Steve had asked for her number she put it in and then left with her friends.

He tried not to be too desperate. But he wanted to let her know he was serious and that he would (eventually) be good boyfriend material. So a little before midnight, he shot a text to her to make sure she was alright.

[11:47] Hey this is Steve just making sure you got home okay 🙂

He had debated on the emoji but figured it was harmless and innocent in the end. He put his phone down and got ready for bed, expecting her to text back after a couple of minutes. Unless she didn’t get home safely. Steve tried not to think about that.

After changing his clothes and brushing his teeth he checked his phone. He lit up when he saw that Misty had replied.

(11:52) Sure did Steve-o (11:53) Thanks for your concern 🫡

Misty texted a little different from the way she talked. A bit more…well he wasn’t sure how to describe it. Misty seemed like a really straight-laced woman. She was in the process of getting her education degree.

Steve shot back another message, saying that he had a good time tonight and he really hoped to see her again. There it was. A clear intention. If she responded positively, he’d ask her out right then. But the reply didn’t come as quick as he wanted. When it got around 12:30, Steve finally called it a night. Misty had probably gone to sleep as well.

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

[11:47] Hey this is Steve just making sure you got home okay 🙂

Eddie stared at the text he just received. He racked his brain for whoever Steve must be and what he had done all day today, wondering if he met someone but their name just slipped his mind.

But nope. He had spent this lovely Saturday at home, lounging around in his apartment on his day off. He hadn’t gone out. And he hadn’t met anyone named Steve. The message came when he was in the middle of making his near-midnight dinner of mac and cheese. Whoever this guy was, he was clearly checking in on someone.

Eddie looked at his surroundings. Decent place, a bit cramped but big enough for just him and for anyone who needed to crash on his couch. He had popped out earlier to get some cigs and he had in fact made it back safely.

(11:52) Sure did Steve-o (11:53) Thanks for your concern 🫡

And who said he didn’t have impulse control? He thought about it for at least two minutes before sending the message.

[11:55] I had a nice time tonight. Hope to see you again.

Eddie looked at the new text, his chewing slowing to a stop. This Steve guy had met someone, spent some time with them, and was now trying to set up another date. There were a few ways to go about this. For just a moment he considered what a rational person would do, just a moment though.

A rational person might’ve said right away ‘wrong number’ or ‘wires crossed’. But Eddie’s brain didn’t function on rationality. So even though Steve clearly meant to text someone else, Eddie thought of the best way to reply. It did take him a bit to send it, the macaroni was calling to him. But by 1, Eddie had sent something back.

(1:07) You saw me?  (1:09) From my apartment?  (1:10) Creepy

He went to bed, thinking he’d wake up to a very confused man and when morning came he wasn’t disappointed.

[8:13] What are you talking about? It’s Steve? From the bar?

Eddie checked his clock. It was ten in the morning. Who got up at eight on a Sunday? Eddie’s first thought was a church-goer. Those folks were early risers. But they didn’t frequent bars too much.

(10:29) Sorry man (10:30) I think you got the wrong number (10:30) I didn’t go to a bar last night.

Once he sent it, Eddie belatedly hoped the words weren’t too blunt. It couldn’t feel nice, getting a number error. But after a moment of thinking, he started coming around to the idea that maybe Steve wasn’t such a catch. People didn’t give wrong numbers after a good time. Maybe he actually was a creep.

[10:36] Oh. Well, I’m sorry to bother you.

Eddie rolled from his back onto his stomach. Curse his soft heart. He didn’t know anything about this man and somehow he felt sorry for him. But he wasn’t about to go gushing to a stranger. Who knows what kind of interactions Steve had with this mystery number? So instead, he went the typical Eddie route and tried to lighten the mood.

(10:38) Probably dodged a bullet (10:38) They could’ve been a serial killer (10:39) Or worse someone who jogs in the morning

He put that little dig there just to feel out Steve. If he wasn’t at church, maybe he was the kind to go and workout in the morning. In the middle of making his coffee, Eddie realized he was trying to learn about the dude and thought he might be courting danger. Then he heard a ‘ping!’ and any ideas of caution were thrown to the wind.

Leaning against the counter, the only sound was the percolating as he read what Steve had said.

[10:46] Okay confession. I did actually go for a jog this morning. Is that weird?

Eddie started to visualize this man and another alarm went off in his mind that he promptly shooed away.

(10:47) No not weird at all (10:47) It’s perfectly natural for an insane person (10:48) Didn’t you go drinking last night? (10:48) And then you went for a jog this morning? (10:49) You might just be more scary than a murderer (10:50) Scratch that (10:50) This seems like text book serial killer behavior (10:51) Bet this is how you scope out your targets

The coffee finished brewing and Eddie starting pouring it and it was only then he realized the wall he’d sent Steve accusing him of being a killer. It looked like texts from a crazy person. He looked crazy. His friends had complained more than once about him sending these streams of texts instead of keeping it all in one response. Steve was going to see that and leave him on read, or just block his number.

[10:57] Damn guess I better come up with a new tactic.

Eddie didn’t realize how hard he was smiling until he tried to drink and spilled hot coffee on himself. Alarms were ringing in his head again but he might as well be deaf.

Part 2

[dc418writes]

Fuck it, I’m Jealous

✨Pairing✨: TE!Terry Richmondxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Your (secret) feelings for your best friend reach a new height

🚨: teensy bit of angst, brief mention of children, language, allusion to abusive relationship, fluff mixed throughout

Fic inspo:

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

I ain't never been good at sharing

But with you, I practice patience

And I let you do your thing 'cause I'm doin' mine

I was actin' like I'm good when I know I'm lyin'

The rhythmic thud and vibrations from the speakers run through your whole body as you sit at the mini bar watching other guests dancing and laughing. Usually you’d be among the bodies swaying on the dance floor at least once or mingling with whomever was open enough to talk, but tonight you can’t seem to switch your focus from the couple near the tall floor to ceiling windows.

Specifically, your best friend, Terry, and the woman giggling and smiling as she hangs on to his every word.

They’ve nearly been attached at the hip all night - moving from the dance floor to a more private section of the bustling mansion’s living room - and you had to admit, she was gorgeous. Silky, black hair flowing to the middle of her back and face flawlessly clear of blemishes, she was definitely his type with her Hollywood dazzling smile and matching perfect curves. Yet with every flirty glance, you could feel a sickening twinge in your gut.

So much in your head, you fail to realize your other best friend, Ondrea, had joined you after ordering another fruity cocktail. “Her beauty does not take away from yours.”

“I know,” you softly smile attempting to hide your hurt.

“And you, my love, have a line of suitors both in here and outside who’d be blessed with just a minute of your attention.”

You didn’t want them though. Every single one you tried just couldn’t compete - let alone be in the same room - as Terry Richmond. Charming, big eared, jerk.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, she leans her head on yours with a soft sigh, “Want me to break them up? Accidentally on purpose spill a drink on her?”

“No,” you chuckle, “and I think you’ve reached your limit on the drinks.” She did tend to be a little more…aggressively protective around her fourth. “Where’s Ali?”

Sipping from the little glass in her hand, her other waves as if she couldn’t care less where her defensive lineman husband was. “I’m grown, okay? I don’t need a babysitter and don’t think I don’t realize you trying to divert! Have you talked to him?”

“Drea we both know I can’t do that.”

“You need to though! If I see you sad about alien eyes one more time imma fight him myself.”

“Aye you supposed to be cut off.” You’ve never been happier to see Ali. You came to this party in hopes to forget your messy feelings. To get a long deserved break from the heaviness - and occasional tears - they caused. “Gimme the glass now Ondrea Marie.”

Rolling her eyes, she’s quick to drain the remainder of the candy green liquid - much to her husband’s dismay - before placing the glass in his large paw of a hand. “Happy?,” she hiccups with a giggle lightly bumping you.

“This woman,” he mumbles in exasperation leaving the empty glass on the shiny bar. “Hey bitty, surprised to see you and Terry separated.”

You’d practically been each other’s shadows since college. Each somehow drifting back after working the room if you didn’t stick together the entire time. It’s why most of those interested became slightly disappointed thinking you were more than friends, which you’d both immediately deny.

“By all means, shoot ya shot. Want me to introduce you?”

“Well, I uh thought it’d be best to give him some privacy since he’s pretty occupied.” Turning to find his teammate among the moving attendees, he smirks watching the mystery, model-esque woman lean in to whisper in the Tight End’s ear. Clearly something salacious from how Terry licked his full lips before handing her his phone. His mouth smoothly whispering something back then moving to her neck as she giggled and playfully smacked his chest.

“Well he’s definitely gonna have a fun night.”

That made one of you. “Yep, and I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Already?”

“Yea it’s been a long day, plus I got more to do tomorrow.” Like sulk in the privacy of your own home. Maybe catch an episode or two of Law and Order.

“Oh okay. You need a ride? Or want me to get T-?”

“Nope I’m alright. I’ll just Uber again,” you quickly answer. From his slightly raised brow, you know Ali can probably sense there’s an issue but he doesn’t press on and you’re grateful he seems to catch the hint.

“Uh uh we can drive you home,” Ondrea speaks up trying to stand on slightly unsteady legs. Luckily Ali’s there to keep her from falling to which she insists she’s got it and he rolls his chocolate eyes.

“No yall stay, I’ll be fine.” Not giving them a chance to utter another word, you slip from your barstool with a quick wave and clutch in your hand as your heels hastily clack along the tiled floor towards the entrance. “I’ll call when I get home!”

-

“We should have another one,” Terry states staring with proud eyes at the quiet bundle in their white crib. His elbows bent over the railing as he adorably coos while fixing the small blanket that looked like the one from your childhood.

“We just had this one,” you giggle jokingly poking the back of his thigh with your toe. Peering over his shoulder, there’s no hiding that boyish grin you fell in love with.

“She need a friend though, she told me.”

“Mhm..she told you that?” He nods moving to get on his knees and crawl until his head is in your lap. His soft hands bringing yours to his lips to peck as he begins to beg.

“Pleasepleaseplease!”

The melodic chime from your doorbell startles you awake with a racing heart and dull ache in your temple from sitting up too fast. It’s soon followed by a couple thunderous knocks that don’t help your already panicked state.

‘Gimme a break,’ you think shuffling to your door. In retrospect, you should’ve looked on your app before opening the door. Or maybe even pretended you weren’t home.

Black Nike sweats covering his legs and matching sweatshirt over his upper half, Terry wasn’t annoyed but you could tell he was in a mood.

“H-Hey,” you greet with a nervous smile. “Everything okay?”

His brief, low chuckle is far from humorous as he crosses his thick arms across his chest. “I could ask you the same. Haven’t talked to you in almost a month.”

‘And? Haven’t you been busy with what’s her name?’ You want to say, but instead you simply shrug. “I’ve been busy.”

“So busy you can’t text or call me back? Come to my games?”

“Wow, one less fan to watch you out of what..hundreds of thousands?,” you sarcastically retort with an attitude Terry had never been on the receiving end of. “I don’t have to always-,”

“You back with him?”

Him in question being your ex, Chris. From their first meeting, Terry couldn’t stand him and definitely wasn’t shy about telling you.

“You need to let him go.”

“I’m tellin you, he’s no good twin.”

The feeling was mutual with Chris. At the mention of Terry he’d roll his eyes and mood would visibly change. And when your then boyfriend expressed how he didn’t want you around Terry, you reluctantly respected that boundary. Until it seemed he didn’t want you with Ondrea either.

It unfortunately took some time to see that so called boundary was nothing more than control. Although slightly hurt, neither of your friends blamed you when you came back with tearful apologies. They took turns being your shoulder to cry on, but Terry tended to check in and visit more. There were many days he’d be waiting in your apartment’s parking lot - specifically in the spot next to your usual - sat in his black on black Ford truck with bags of food in the passenger seat.

“Don’t you have practice in the morning?,” you asked that first night he appeared.

“Yes, and I’ll be there don’t worry twin,” he winked gathering both takeout bags in his hand before following you to your door.

“No, I’m not.”

“Then what?,” Terry asks. “I do something to you?”

Yes, you made me fall in love with you and complicate my love life dookiehead. “No,” you sigh.

Kissing his teeth, his frustration only builds the more you lie. “Look, I’m not stupid clearly it’s something! You ain’t even invite me in and I’m just supposed to-,”

“I just need space Terry!”

“From me?”

“Yes! And…”

Those words are right there on the tip of your tongue practically tickling your lips ready for their escape. Your fears clutch them at the last moment though, refusing to let them go and potentially ruin the best relationship of your life thus far. Your second home you could always depend on.

“And what?”

Your fingers massage you temple feeling that headache become sharper and more painful. “Can we just…not..tonight?” You were nowhere near ready - mentally or emotionally - for this conversation. However like the stubborn, determined man he is Terry can’t easily let things go. Whenever there’s a problem, he finds a solution then and there.

In double time if it concerns his family or friends.

His long legs swiftly bring him over your threshold before closing the door behind him. His hypnotic green eyes intense and never leaving yours leaning back against the wooden entrance.

“I’m not leaving until you get whatever it is you need to say out! I know something’s wrong and wish you’d-,”

“Fine! You wanna know? It is you T,” you finally reveal with tears beginning to flow down your heated cheeks. He wanted to know? Well he just opened Pandora’s box. “I’m..I’m tired of pretending I’m fine seeing you with other girls and hearing about this one in Vegas and-and that one from the club!”

You don’t know if his silence is him taking in your words or from shock. Maybe even unease. For the first time you can’t read him at all.

You can feel the knot form in your throat as your fear tries once more to stop your vulnerability. As usual, he can tell you’re ready to shut down again prompting him to step closer carefully reaching out to brush your freshest tear away from your face. “What else? Keep goin.”

“I shouldn’t have ignored you, but I knew if I said something then I’d ruin what we already have,” you softly explain trying to steady your heaving chest and hiccups. “I mean there’s a reason we’ve never crossed that line right?”

“And why is that?,” he asks stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Was..was he serious? “B-Because you’re not attracted to me like that. Which is fine-,”

“I never said that.” Now was his turn to struggle finding his next words as he took a break from your angelic features to peer down at the tiled floor. Meanwhile you patiently stood there rubbing your ear in your attempt to self soothe - a habit you had as a kid that surprisingly followed you all these years.

“From that first day we met in the dorms, I could tell you were different-,”

“I was one of the crew,” you interrupt.

“No, I mean…you weren’t one to play around. You were intentional with everything you did, had your shit together, and if it ain’t make sense to you, you didn’t want no parts.

You couldn’t help it, it’s how you were raised. Not to say you didn’t have fun and make time for the things you liked, but at the end of the day you knew the important stuff needed to get done.

“I knew I wasn’t there, so I didn’t bother you. You kept it friendly, so I did too. Doesn’t mean I was never attracted.”

You can feel your heart begin its rapid patters again, but now for a completely different reason. “So…so what?,” you ask still unsure. “You’re saying you’ve liked me this entire time?”

His Jordans lightly squeak as he steps closer once more. The amber from his Tom Ford cologne and body heat radiating from his chest makes you dizzy feeling your knee wobble as your back meets your kitchen island. His grayish-green eyes attached to yours once more after a quick glance at your pouty lips. “I’m saying I’ve been attracted to you since I first saw you, and every day after we got closer I knew you complimented me in the best ways…the yin to my yang, my twin. I didn’t wanna be that guy you thought only was friends with you to get with you.

“And when Lizard-,”

“His name is Chris,” you corrected, rolling your eyes with a sniffled giggle.

“I know what I said.” So petty. “When he did that, I wanted to protect you from anyone else who tried to hurt you,” he bashfully shrugs and you mentally aw at how adorable he could be. “Wanted to be the only one to protect you.”

It’s as if your body’s in control rather than your brain how you eliminate the remaining space, reaching up to press your lips against his. Admittedly, it’s…different at first - reminiscent of your first kiss in middle school - but when his warm hand caresses your cheek and the other slides to your lower back, sparks tingle and ignite from your head to your toes. Your lips moving at their own rhythm as both your tongues soon follow pulling moans from your chest.

Begrudgingly, Terry breaks first needing air - and a moment to collect himself. His low chuckle brushes against your cheek hearing your little whimper from wanting more. “Gimme a minute twin,” he smiles pressing his forehead against yours.

“So…what now?,” you whisper nearly getting lost in the way his fingertips feel grazing along your spine.

“You tell me. What do you want?” The deep baritone of his whisper sends addicting shivers throughout your body.

“You,” you answer gently gripping his sweatshirt not wanting to let go - just in case this was some wild fever dream. “All to myself.”

He can’t help but smile at the way your onyx eyes, mixed with swirls of ebony, innocently peer up at him through your wispy lashes. “You got me,” he replies leaning down to meet your waiting lips once more.

I ain't gon' tell you to drop them other bitches

But drop them other bitches

I never been jealous

But fuck it, I'm jealous

So goddamn invested

A/N🎤: HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE✨💕!! I hope everyone is having a great time and able to rest. Or if you’re going through it this season, I wish healing for you and to remember you are so loved and deserving of love☺️.

This idea has been on my mind for a while and uh…I honestly don’t know how to feel about it lol it took on so many changes and I feel like it might be boring, but then again I’m my own worst critic so hopefully yall enjoy!

I wanted to have a holiday themed story or two out by now but as usual I am late lol, but I’m still trying to have something out before new years (however we’ll see👀 lol)

[elssero]

꩜ enlightenment

i.midoriya

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 01 2k words.

next, masterlist.

11:58am.

if izuku hasn’t been nervous the entire morning then he definitely is now, it feels like he’s standing on the edge of a diving board, his heart raceing, beating faster than usual, a tightness in his chest.

in two minutes exactly his long awaited test results will be emailed to him by his professor, to say he’s dreading it is an understatement. the class is english, and although not his major, it’s a class that izuku needs to do well in, or at least pass.

however going by his previous results that’s appearing to be easier said than done.

he sits on the edge of his chair, his leg bouncing uncontrollably as he stares at his computer. his hands are clasped tightly together, his knuckles pale from the pressure. every few moments, he wipes his palms on his pants, only for them to become clammy again.

izuku’s mind is a whirlwind of scenarios as it often is, flipping between hope and dread, each possibility more vivid than the last. his lips press into a thin line, then part slightly as he mutters something to himself, maybe a prayer or just a reassurance. he glances at the clock, then at the computer again, his heart thudding in his ears. when the notification finally comes, his breath catches, his hand trembling as he reaches to open it.

fail.

the email reads kind, he can tell his professor is attempting to soften the blow. excuses about his stupid mistakes or skills that just need more development, but izuku can’t tear his eye away from the result- disappointment.

he skims through the rest of the email, finding nothing of note until the last paragraph in which his professor suggests that maybe, a tutor could actually do izuku some good, followed by what appears to be the email of a fellow student of his.

he doesn’t fight the sigh that is let out in response, this isn’t the first time the idea of a tutor has been brung up to izuku. looking at his results for this english tests during his first semester would tell you that he definitely needs one.

maybe it’s a confidence thing, or maybe it’s the fact he’s never had a tutor before, but izuku is terrified- to the extent he’s been dodging his tutors suggestion of a tutor for weeks.

he doesn’t need one- he just needs to put some extra work in- why is he even taking english in the first place? it’s not like he needs to know the history of shakespeare for a mechanical engineering degree??

extra classes are a waste of time anyway.

regardless of his little temper tantrum- izuku knows in the back of his mind that this extra curricular would look great on his degree, and he’s spent far too many hours studying to just give in now.

12:14pm.

“you remember that boy that keeps refusing your tutoring? he failed another test today.”

shaking your head in disappointment you take ur report from your bag and hand it to mr yamada before you respond- “did you offer him my tutoring again?”

“yes- i even sent him your email address over in the hopes he gets drunk one night and begs you to tutor him. honestly it’s like he doesn’t want to pass”

there’s an exasperated look on your professors face amidst the giggle he lets out at the idea of his student drunk, you’ve spent enough time with him to know that this kid is stressing him out- it’s clear how much he cares about his students, something in which you admire about him.

“keep pestering him- i’m sure he’ll come around”

“i’m not so sure- midoriya is extremely stubborn, even though he doesn’t seem it- asking for help can be difficult for some kids.” you swear you watch your professors eyes flick up to your own, you get the feeling he may be alluding to something more than midoriya here.

you shake your head anyway, a small smile on your face. you’ve spent so much time in professor yamada’s office this year you’d be as well setting up camp there- it’s a silly thought.

you think back to midoriya, and what you know- or don’t know about him.

he’s a mechanical engineering student, taking english as an extra class to fill out his timetable and he’s definitely struggling. you can’t blame him- it’s not for everyone.

however he appears to be extremely and entirely against tutoring? your not taking it personally, as the boy doesn’t know who you are, but you can’t help this weird feeling in your chest- that you want to help him.

you can’t explain it, not at all. you’ve never met this boy, the only details about him you know are recounts from your shared professor, but you can’t help this internal need to want to teach him, for him to do well.

It doesn’t come as a surprise to either you or mr yamada when midoriya ignores the suggestion of tutoring in his response email, instead giving his professor a quick thanks for his grade and wishing him a good weekend.

at least he’s polite.

your time with your professor ends quickly after that, quickly bidding him goodbye with the promise of seeing him on monday before your on your way. midoriya is out of your mind by the time your off campus.

11:42pm

It’s the second friday of the month, which means that tonight midoriya will spend almost his entire weekend stuck in this stupid gas station.

living in a college town means he can expect the groups of young adults walking in any second- either already extremely drunk or looking to buy the means to get there.

he doesn’t hate his job- no definitely not. He likes the night shifts during the weeks, it’s quiet, and lonely, and he has the entire place to himself the whole night. it’s the weekend shifts that midoriya dislikes- pity he’s forced to work at least one every two weeks.

a ring of the door can be heard from the other side of the store than him, he can see the group of people from the cameras next to the till. the group looks around his age, if not a little older, two men in dark clothing with coloured hair- a cheerful blonde girl, and another, quieter girl walking hand in hand with her.

midoriya can’t see much of their faces, but he can tell the quieter one is pretty right of the bat- he straightens himself up a little, maybe a little too eagerly.

he watches as the group walk around the stalls, grabbing snacks with alcohol and cigarettes- the tall one with the dark hair is very particular about his narcotics.

when they finally get to the till midoriya can smell the weed immediately- particularly from the men of the group. they’re being shushed as they approach the counter, being told to stay back as the pretty one continues forward to pay for their haul.

“hi- uh sorry about my friends- they’re a little out of it right now.”

izuku is even more enamoured by you as you get close to him- tired eyes and a slight smile- he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone more beautiful.

“uh- yeah it’s fine” he doesn’t say anything more- instead he stands stiff, eyes locked into yours, it’s not until your eyes make a quick look down to your basket of items that he remembers he’s at work- and that he has a job to do.

“oh sorry- let me ring you up quickly”

he’s trying to go as fast as he can- but his nerves are bubbling and he feels like an idiot for being so affected by one pretty girl. your making small talk with him, asking about his shift and when he gets off, he’s trying to answer the best he can.

“can I see some id please?” you have no problems taking out your id- handing it to izuku without a second thought, allowing him time to get your name, he forgets to even check that your above age until the very last second.

“uh- nice name.” he swallows immediately after saying it-

“oh! thank you-“ you pause, taking a moment to look down at his name card, probably so you return the favour. he curses that the nicknames that his work put in place for ‘safety.’

“uh- deku? thank you, your name is…” stupid, he thinks, it’s childish and idiotic. “pretty cute actually.”

that puts him at a standstill- it’s not even his real name but your compliment makes him freeze.

“well um- thank you for the service, enjoy your shift deku.”

your out the door with your friends before he can even answer- he doesn’t get a number, or a social media handle. Just an engrained image of your face and a name.

a name that read way to familiar- has he heard of you before?

it doesn’t matter anyway- he’ll probably never see you again after tonight, unless you take another late night trip to the gas station, izuku kinda hopes that you will.

it’s while now until another customer comes in, and even longer until the next, izuku has his headphones in in order to pass the time and it’s working pretty well. he can’t help himself but start to think back to school, finding himself hovering over the email his professor had sent him earlier.

would having a tutor really be that bad? maybe it’ll end up really helping him? he just needs to pass english this year and he doesn’t have to do it ever again, he can get through a few months of this right?

he opens the email after a long debate, still undecided on his decision to finally accept the offering of tutoring when the email attached catches his eye.

it’s a name- no it’s your name- the pretty girl with the weird friends name.

this has to be a sign- right? or maybe it’s a bad idea to only begin tutoring because you think the girl that’ll be tutoring you is pretty- maybe he should count his blessings that you don’t already think he’s some loser who’s failing english- maybe he should reject the tutor completely, or ask for someone different??

he doesn’t know- but he does know that he thinks your maybe the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and that you smiled at him, and you called his name cute- and he’s writing up a draft email to send to his professor that he’s finally came around to the idea of being tutored.

it’s fine- it’ll all be fine- and if it doesn’t work out then he’ll drop out of university and work in this stupid gas station his entire life.

really it’s far too late to send this email now-its entirely unprofessional. but izuku is so worried that he’ll pussy out tomorrow morning than he sends it anyway, at nearly 1am.

he wishes he was surprised when his professor emails him back within 10 minutes- seemingly ecstatic about the idea of izuku finally coming around- that he won’t regret it- he’s sure that this will do him a lot of good- he’ll be passing with flying colours in no time.

maybe this wasn’t a good idea- he’ll just have to wait and see. but izuku now has a chance to have any conversation with you, and that’s all that matters.

taglist: @rueclfer @crimsonrubie @lovernatashaa

[chxnsgirl]

방찬 ─── cracks in the mirror 2

♡ pairing ៸៸ idol!chan x fem!reader genre ៸៸ drama ig, kinda fluff ៸៸ cw ៸៸ mean girl mina , chan is mean but to mina :3 ♡ synopsis ៸៸ chan confronts mina. [ part one ] a/n ๑ i messed up the format please don't laugh at me— this second part is confrontations like requested but if you guys want i’ll write a fluff scene to close the lil series ! [ 1.7k words ] ♡ masterlist

the next morning, chan walked into the company with a clear mission. mina was sitting inside a practice room, scrolling on her phone, looking as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“mina,” chan said, his tone calm but unmistakably firm.

she looked up, surprised at the abruptness in his voice. “oh, hey, chan!” she flashed him her usual sweet smile. he didn’t reciprocate, instead crossing his arms. “we need to talk.”

mina’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, adjusting her posture. “oh? what about?” he shut the door and turned to face her.

“mina, i’m going to be straight with you. what you said to y/n yesterday was completely out of line.” her brows furrowed in mock confusion. “what do you mean? i didn’t say anything wrong to her. we were just talking.”

chan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “talking? you called her ‘brave’ for being confident with extra weight. do you really think that’s appropriate?”

mina hesitated for a second but then tilted her head, trying to appear innocent. “i didn’t mean it in a bad way! i was just giving her a compliment. if she took it the wrong way, that’s on her.”

“no, mina,” chan interrupted, his tone sharper. “it’s not on her. you’ve been here long enough to know what’s acceptable and what’s not when it comes to how we treat people—especially our colleagues. y/n has done nothing but work hard, and the last thing she needs is passive-aggressive comments or veiled insults.”

mina’s expression hardened slightly, her facade cracking. “i think you’re reading too much into this, chan. maybe you’re just overly sensitive about her.”

“don’t deflect,” he countered, his voice steady but firm. “this isn’t about me being ‘sensitive.’ it’s about respect. and it’s about creating an environment where everyone feels safe and valued, not judged.”

mina crossed her arms, defensive. “fine. if she’s that upset, i’ll apologize.”

chan shook his head. “don’t just apologize to check a box, mina. think about why this behavior is a problem and how it affects the people around you. if this happens again, we’re going to have a much bigger issue to deal with.”

there’s a moment of tense silence before mina finally nodded, though her expression didn’t suggest much remorse. “got it,” she muttered, looking away.

chan sighed, his disappointment evident. “good. i hope this is the last time we have to have this conversation.”

as mina left the room, chan stayed behind for a moment, running a hand through his hair. he knew he couldn’t force someone to change, but he hoped his words would at least make her think twice before targeting you—or anyone else—again.

later in the day, you were back in the studio, focusing intently on your work. you were determined to push the events of yesterday to the back of your mind. mina’s cruel words still lingered, but chan’s support had given you the strength to move forward, even if only slightly.

the faint sound of voices carried through the hallway as you typed away on your laptop, but you didn’t pay them much attention until the door to the studio opened, and in walked mina. you glanced up briefly, then returned your attention to your work, pretending she wasn’t there.

“hey, y/n,” mina said softly, her tone uncharacteristically subdued.

you didn’t respond immediately, choosing instead to finish typing your thought. then, you leaned back in your chair and gave her a curt nod. “what is it, mina?”

she hesitated, her usual confidence replaced with something resembling awkwardness. “i just… i wanted to say i’m sorry. about yesterday. i think i might have come across the wrong way, and i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you studied her for a moment, trying to decipher whether her apology was genuine or just another act. “is that so?” you asked, your tone as neutral as you could manage.

“yes,” mina said, clasping her hands together and giving you what she probably thought was a sincere look. “i was just trying to make conversation, but i think it came out wrong.”

you let out a soft scoff, turning your attention back to your laptop. “right. making conversation.”

she faltered, clearly not expecting your cold response. “i mean it,” she pressed. “i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

you gave her a sharp look, your patience wearing thin. “funny, because you seem to be really good at saying things that hurt people, mina. so forgive me if i’m not buying this sudden burst of remorse.”

the door creaked open slightly, and you noticed the reflection of two familiar faces in the glass window—changbin and han. they were leaning against the frame, partially hidden but clearly listening.

mina didn’t seem to notice. her expression shifted instantly, the veneer of sweetness cracking. “well, i was just trying to be nice,” she snapped, her tone defensive. “it’s not my fault you’re so sensitive.”

you smirked, though there was no humor in it. “there she is,” you said, your voice low and pointed. “i was wondering how long you’d keep up the act.”

hans’s low mutter of “oh, hell no” barely registered, but changbin's quiet snort did.

mina’s face reddened, her fake apology dissolving entirely. “you know what? maybe i was wasting my time trying to apologize.”

you leaned forward, meeting her glare with unwavering calm. “then maybe you should do us both a favor and not waste your time next time.”

she huffed, crossing her arms. “whatever,” she muttered before turning on her heel. as she opened the door, she froze, noticing changbin and han standing there, arms crossed and faces set in disapproval.

“oh, don’t mind us,” han said, his tone light but dripping with sarcasm. “we were just passing by.”

mina’s eyes darted between the two of them before she shoved past and stormed down the hallway.

changbin let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he stepped into the studio. “wow. she’s worse than i thought.”

han followed, plopping down onto the couch. “nice work.”

you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “thanks.”

you sat in the breakroom, nursing your coffee and trying to shake off the encounter with mina earlier. her fake apology and subsequent outburst had left you drained, though you wouldn’t let her know that.

the door swung open, and you glanced up to see chan. his jaw was set, and his usually warm eyes were stormy.

“where is she?” he asked, his tone clipped.

you blinked, startled by the intensity in his voice. “who?”

“mina,” he bit out, already turning to leave. “i heard what happened. she’s not getting away with it this time.”

before you could protest—or warn him—he was out the door, striding down the hallway. you followed hesitantly, curiosity overriding your instinct to stay out of it.

chan found mina sitting in the cafeteria, scrolling on her phone like she didn’t have a care in the world. he didn’t hesitate.

“oi, mina,” he snapped, his voice carrying across the room.

she looked up, startled, and quickly masked her surprise with a saccharine smile. “oh, hey, chan! what’s up?”

he stopped a few feet from her, his posture rigid. “cut it,” he said, his accent thicker than usual, each word sharp enough to cut glass. “what the hell is your problem?”

her smile faltered. “excuse me?” she said, her voice rising indignantly.

“you heard me,” chan said, his tone low and hushed, as if trying not to let anyone hear. “why do you keep goin’ out of your way to be such a goddamned pain in the ass?”

mina’s mouth opened and closed, clearly taken aback. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered.

“oh, don’t play dumb with me,” he shot back, his voice rising. “i’ve heard how you treat y/n. and today? you waltz in with your half-arsed apology, then turn around and throw more shade when it doesn’t go your way. are you serious?”

mina straightened her spine, trying to regain her composure. “i was just trying to be nice—”

“bullshit,” chan interrupted, his accent thick and raw. “you were bein’ a snake, and you know it. nice doesn’t look like what you do, mina. nice doesn’t leave people feelin’ like shit after every conversation. so drop the act, yeah?”

her face reddened, her carefully crafted facade crumbling. “i don’t need this from you,” she snapped. “i was just trying to help, but clearly y/n’s too sensitive to handle a bit of honesty.”

chan took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. “honesty? you call tearing someone down ‘honesty’? nah, mate, that’s just you bein’ a spiteful cow. and if you think i’m gonna let you get away with it, you’ve got another thing comin’.”

mina looked like she wanted to retort, but chan didn’t give her the chance.

“you’re done,” he said firmly. “you don’t get to treat people like that and expect everyone to put up with it. especially not y/n. so unless you’re ready to actually grow the hell up, you can’t work for me, or anyone else here.”

the room was silent, and all eyes were on chan as his chest heaved. mina’s jaw tightened, and without another word, she grabbed her bag and stormed out.

chan let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair before turning around to see you standing there. his expression softened when he saw you standing there, half-hidden behind the doorway.

“you heard that?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

you nodded, your chest tight with a mix of gratitude and surprise. “yeah. you didn’t have to–”

he offered a small smile, his eyes warm again. “no, i didn’t, but.. you don’t deserve that from her. no one does.”

you walked over to him, taking in his worked up, flushed state. “are you okay?” you asked him, cautiously inching closer. he nodded, sighing. “yeah. but i already know i’m about to get scolded for talking to her like that.” he looked up at you from his fists, his gaze tender. 

you bit the inside of your cheek, steeling yourself. “do you wanna step outside, and go for a walk or something? to cool off?” 

he stood up straighter, nodding. “sure,” he grinned, showing off his adorable dimple. “after you.”

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[envy-of-the-apple]

you’re into COD?

what’s your thoughts on yandere ghost? (sorry not sorry: i am a hardcore ghost simp)

i havent done a yandere analysis in ages so-

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, stalking, kidnapping)

Yandere Analysis: Simon Riley(Ghost)

As a man who speaks just a couple of words, its clear the guy doesnt get out all that much.

Between his work life and his past experience, none can really blame him. Ghost has seen a lot, experienced a lot. In his line of work, he has learned that it's good to go to the extreme. Shoot until the enemy is down, Run until his legs give out, Fight until his knuckles are bloody. Less comrades die when you're willing to do what no one else can even fathom. Go to every extreme.

So, when Ghost feels, though rare, he feels everything to the fullest: rage, fear, bloodlust. He's not used to the more benign emotions: happiness, joy, love.

It's why being home after a mandatory vacation is so mind-numbing. He's like a crated dog, stuck in one place with no stimulation. It's nothing but grays and whites. At this point, all what he's looking for is an excuse. A chance to bite.

You could be anyone. A cute waitress who was dumb enough to smile and greet him. A new neighbor who was unaware about the unspoken rule of not talking to the tenant who disappears for months. Someone on the street who just bumped into him and apologized.

He lunges and sinks his teeth.

You become a good hobby. He takes it as a challenge, following you around as you obliviously flitter about your day, watching your routine. It's boring, but in a pleasant way. Peaceful.

It becomes an addiction, a fix he can't quit. Just watching you do errands isn't enough, he needs to see what you do in the privacy of your own home. There are cameras in every corner he can find, bugs too. In everything he does, he is diligent. Extreme.

When you inevitably find the cameras, but you and him are disappointed when the police do nothing more than a half-assed watchout. He was hoping for at least a car posted outside for the night. Then he'd could rip them apart, leave bodyparts hanging outiside your door like christmas ornaments. In a way, he finds it a little romantic.

Your only reprise is when he leaves for an assignment, and then everything starts back up again a few months later. It's a never endling cycle.

At least he looks forward to vacations, now.

[elsweetheart]

what you heard : part one

synopsis: you start to develop feelings for your boyfriends dealer.

♪ what you heard — sonder ♪

cw: reader is a bisexual woman dating a man, brief descriptions of having sex with a man, weed, alcohol, ellie’s sexual thoughts, blink and you miss it mention of throwing up, a man being really mean and a bad boyfriend, gay girl drama, ellie is kind of a homewrecker but reader doesn’t technically cheat, but mentions of it. kind of angsty at times? a little?

an: whew this is kinda lengthy !! idk how many words so… don’t ask me :( i hope you all enjoy it! i’ll start writing part two asap!

Ellie didn’t hate any of her customers, no. That would be bad for business. She just simply… preferred some over the others. Louis was one of those customers that she wouldn’t exactly reserve her best weed for. Not originally, at least. He was like a lot of the other guys on campus, average. Brown hair with the same old outfits, love of sports, and friend group. She could find one hundred of him. She kept a pretty exclusive clients list, not wanting to overwhelm herself with business whilst she’s really trying this year to stay on top of her studies. He wasn’t the most polite, and he was always showing up without texting first — but he paid, and that was good enough to keep him on as a customer.

Alright, maybe that wasn’t really the reason Ellie kept him on as a customer.

She always liked to check out the social media accounts of the people she sold to, try and figure out what kind of person they were, who they knew, and if they seemed like the type to give her up if a cop came knocking. Also, simply put — the girl was nosy. Don’t let her nonchalant demeanour fool you, her Insta-stalking skills rivalled the FBI. She knew she probably shouldn’t, and she did feel a little weird doing it — scrolling on her bed one evening in a hoodie and basketball shorts, she typed in Louis’ name to the Instagram search bar.

He had one picture up of you, the rest were pictures of him and his friends at parties. Real classy, she thought. She clicked the picture, wondering what kind of girl would have to be desperate enough to go out with a guy this… meh, and oh… Oh. You were smoking hot. It was a halloween throwback, a basic couple costume with Louis dressed as the devil and you, ironically enough dressed as an angel. He kept his sweaty pink hand on the curve of your ass as the two of you laughed. She wondered what was funny. He got lucky, she thought. Very lucky.

Ellie tapped you, and a tag emerged on the screen with your name. Pretty name, of course. Private account — much to her disappointment.

It would be totally inappropriate to follow you, right? Her customers girlfriend. Ellie clicked her own profile, gazing at it thoughtfully. Her profile picture was a black screen, and she had zero pictures up on her account. She had a considerable amount of followers, given her reputation but she didn’t follow many back — just a few very loyal customers, and her best friends Jesse and Dina. It would be weird to follow you right? Yes. Very weird, Ellie. She closed out the app, and pretty much forgot about it.

It was always the same exchange with Louis. He turned up, either unannounced or 2 hours late — burp, demand weed whilst barely sparing Ellie a glance or a thank you, and then head out. She didn’t always mind — not being a huge fan of small talk anyway, though she could do without the burp. He’d had texted earlier in the day, asking — no, telling Ellie that he would be passing by to pick up his usual ‘at some point’. A quiet knock rapt at the door around 02:23PM. Ellie swung the door open, coming face to face with you.

“Hi… Ellie?” You smiled. Hopeful, sweet, even prettier in person. You were wearing a little sundress with the cheap thin material that hugged every curve on your body, and if she stared a little longer like she wanted to she’d start to border on creepy. Ellie cleared her throat, fighting out a greeting and praying it would come out relatively normal.

“Yeah.” Was what she landed on. Whatever, play it cool. Pretend you didn’t try and stalk her Instagram.

“Louis isn’t coming, the weed is for me and he told me where to buy from, so… hi.” You grinned before telling her your name like she didn’t already know it.

“Hey. I’m Ellie.” And with that, she stepped aside and let you in.

It was like you brought the sunshine in from outside with you, because as soon as you stepped into her room Ellie felt too warm in her grey hoodie. She pushed the sleeves up as your eyes flickered around her dorm, realised she felt stupid and pushed them back down.

“How much you want?” She was pulling out the metal box from her drawer, glancing up at you as your brows furrowed unsurely — thinking as you tugged at your glossed lip. Ellie tried not to stare.

“Uh—” You breathed, and it relaxed Ellie slightly to see that you seemed more nervous than she did somewhat— just for a different reason. “Louis told me to just ask for what he usually gets? I’m sorry, I’ve never bought my own weed before.” You cringed, and then cringed again at the word choice. Ellie smiled fade into a soft chuckle with a nod that said ‘I bet you haven’t.’ She should have guessed, when did pretty girls ever buy their own weed?

“You’re good. I know what his usual is.” Ellie reassured, digging around in the nuggets. She pulled a couple out, placing them down on her scale before bagging them up. You held out your hand unsurely, and she pressed the plastic baggie into it. Your mouth opened to say something, and Ellie’s hand froze above yours as she watched you — trying to work out what might be wrong. “What? Is this not…”

“No, sorry. It’s perfect. I assume. I’m not sure. I just… I don’t know how to roll these. Lou told me to buy my own weed seeing as I am the one who wanted to smoke and — it’s okay. I’ll just Google it.” You shook your head, feeling your cheeks turn warm at your own rambling. Ellie stopped you as you went to shove the baggie into her pocket with a calm smile, raising her eyebrows as if to say ‘Hey, it’s okay. Chill.’

“I can roll it for you. It’s no biggie.”

You visibly relaxed, and Ellie could tell because of the way your chest collapsed slightly, not suffocating your tits against the material of your dress anymore which she couldn’t help but glance at as you looked away. “Thanks. Sorry.” You guffawed, your embarrassment seeming a little relieved as you stepped back, leaning against her desk as she pulled her chair and tray out to do the rolling.

“Louis not buying your weed for you?” She conversed, eyes on the rolling paper as she carefully packed it. Your head snapped towards her, realising that you were the one who blabbed that. Her eyes glanced up at you briefly when you didn’t immediately answer.

“No. It’s… okay though.” You justified, a mass of shame swirling just below your rib cage. You didn’t wanna talk shit about your boyfriend to a stranger, even if the stranger had a totally welcoming vibe about her — and your boyfriend was cheap. Ellie tsk’d lightheartedly, shaking her head. “Against the rules, man.” She comment quietly.

“What rules?” You furrowed your brows defensively as she continued packing.

“You don’t let your girl buy her own weed?” She repeat obviously. Something about the way she said it made the embarrassment in your stomach dissipate into butterflies, which widened your eyes slightly at the disloyal feeling.

“Oh.”

Silence for a beat or two as Ellie concentrate. You notice the lesbian flag on her pinboard.

“It’ll probably just be me and my friends that smoke it anyway. The weathers nice so we’ll be at one of those frat pool parties… You don’t go to those?” You tilt your head, and her eyes lingered on you as you did so at the sugary sweetness in your gesture. God, you made her teeth hurt.

“Nah. I hear those things get weird and horny. Straight people… no offence.” She glances towards you once more, the ‘no offence’ holding little to no weight. Ellie didn’t seem like the type to give a shit about offence, anyways.

“I’m bisexual, but I understand.” You giggle, pushing yourself back to sit more on her desk, swinging your legs as you watch her roll. Her fingers froze for just a moment, before she continued rolling.

“Oh yeah?” She conversed, absolutely despising how a flame of hope flickered in her chest. Nope. Not doing this again.

“Yeah, actually I…” You chuckled. “I started college with the hopes of finding a girlfriend. Things just… didn’t end up that way I guess.” You shrugged, and you seemed happy enough but Ellie could sense the disappointment buried deep.

“Huh.” Ellie let out as she licked the rolling paper, firmly closing it up. She kind of hoped you were watching her as she did so. You weren’t. “You know if you squint really hard Louis could be a lesbian.”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Nope.” Ellie pushed her chair back, standing. You chuckled and she smirked, pushing the two pre rolls she’d made into a bigger baggie and then presenting them to you. “This gonna be enough?”

“Oh yeah, I’m a total lightweight.” You giggled girlishly and she nodded, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she watched you fish around in your purse, unzipping an inside pocket to stuff the rolls inside.

“Cute.” She let slip with a smile, and your heart fluttered a little. You berated yourself for that silently.

“What extra do I owe you? Do you charge for rolling or… I don’t know how this usually works.” You pulled out your pink zip up wallet, the zip a glittery jewel between your fingers.

“Nah. No extra charge.” She held her hands up and you raised your eyebrows in surprise. That was a lie. She did usually charge extra for that, but one thing about Ellie was that she was a sucker for the pretty girl discount.

“Really?” And out came the doe eyes, your dark heavy eyelashes weighty above your pretty eyes as you looked up at her in awe. It was Ellie’s hearts turn to flutter.

“Really.” She smirked, not breaking eye contact (much to her surprise) as she pinched the cash payment from you between her pointer and middle finger knuckles, only swallowing down the giddiness when your fingers brushed hers. You grinned, zipping your wallet back up and tucking it away, feet tapping on the floor a little like you just couldn’t contain your excitement (Which made Ellie want to squeeze you.)

“I know you said it’s not your thing, but you should come to one of the pool parties. Most of the time the people there are cool. It’ll be good for business.” You wiggled your eyebrows which made Ellie’s smile uncontainable, teeth actually on display now which she honestly never did. No one was ever funny or cute enough.

“Maybe.” She rolled her eyes with a smile, walking you towards her door.

“They happen every weekend. Would be cool to see you there.” You fixed your bag over your shoulder before turning back to her. “Nice to meet you, Ellie. You’ll be seeing more of me.” You nodded formally, and the auburn haired girl tore her eyes away from the visible band of your underwear through the material of the dress when you looked back at her, muttering a “Good.”

Ellie always came away from these kind of things wishing she said more. She knew you had a boyfriend, but something about you seemed more curious. Like you weren’t totally against the idea of flirting back. Maybe it was all in her head because of the stupid crush she’d already developed. She didn’t understand it, how could someone like you feel fulfilled by someone like him. Ellie would never let you pay for your own weed, she’d treat you right. She had the means to be able to spoil you, which she didn’t need proof to know that Louis didn’t. Hell, he couldn’t even pay for his girls weed — Ellie knew stingy when she saw it. He probably wasn’t even making you cum. Not like Ellie could anyway, but then again who could? She’d like to think she had a gift — but maybe it was a guitarist-fingers thing, and years of deftly rolling tight joints.

Ellie shook her head free of the thought — sure she was a little grey-moralled — but thinking about finger fucking one of your customers girlfriends on a sunny afternoon felt a little wrong even for her. She was heading off to meet Dina to exchange notes for a class she missed, again just about willing herself to stay focused this semester. The two of them chat over coffee, the notes barely touched as the two friends joked around. When a pensive silence filled the space between them, Ellie spoke up — picking at a hangnail in a way she hoped was casual.

“You ever been to those campus pool parties? The ones at that douchey frat house?” She shrugged, glancing up at her darker haired friend.

“Uh, yeah. Like once or twice.” Dina frowned before snickering, raising a doubtful eyebrow. “What, you interested? You don’t even enjoy regular parties, hermit.”

Ellie’s jaw dropped slightly in offence, letting out a scoff before taking a sip of her coffee — still scalding hot on her tongue. “Excuse me. I’d be there strictly on business. I heard it’s… I was told I should go.” She explained. Dina’s smirk deepened, eyes lowering into slits.

“Who is she?”

“Why do you assume this is about a girl?” She rolled her jewelled eyes, before glancing around the cafe just incase anyone was listening to her pathetic segue into talking about you.

“Because last time I suggested you come with me and Jesse you nearly threw a textbook at my head.” Dina argued, making Ellie sit back in her seat, looking away in defeat as she crossed her arms over her light grey hoodie.

“She’s got a boyfriend. So it doesn’t matter. Just said it would be good for business and… the customer is always right, so I’ve been told.” Ellie rushed out, Dina’s shoulders dropping with a pitying look.

“Oh Ellie. Why put yourself through that?”

“She’s bi — okay stop. This isn’t about her. I was just asking. Fuckin’… forget it.” Ellie flipped the page of her notes now, going to scribble down what Dina had written to get her mind off the conversation.

“Alright, alright.” Her friends held up her hands. “Defensive.”

Ellie didn’t see Louis much from that point on. Same time, every week — you would be on her doorstep. Ellie wasn’t sure if it was just out of convenience, or maybe you had wanted to see her. You had the same spritely, sunshine attitude each time you stepped into her dorm — lighting it up with your smile and your pretty dresses. The auburn haired dealers heart was beginning to ache in a painfully familiar way. An unrequited crush, a girl she couldn’t have. She wished she could say this was the first time she’d crushed on a girl with a boyfriend — but that would be a lie.

Each time you left, the giddiness would fade out into a prickly, warm and uncomfortable anger settling in at the pit of her stomach. Occasionally, you’d let slip the way Louis treat you — and if you didn’t say it, she could tell by the look on your face when his name would come up. Your classes were stressing you out, hence needing her weed to unwind in the first place, and your boyfriend was doing nothing to ease your anxiety, instead choosing to go out and get wasted with his friends each night. You deserved better, and she knew it wasn’t her place to say but shit, it was killing her. You were killing her. She could treat you better.

From outside the frat house, she could hear music, laughter, and water splashing from down the street. Ellie stood with Dina and Jesse, already regretting her decision.

“Fuck this. I’m turning around.” Ellie attempted to swivel, but Jesse grabbed her arm.

“No you’re not. You’re here to sell, remember? Got a friend with money, said he’d pay you good.” He gave her a light shove towards the door, Dina rolling her eyes at the two’s antics. Ellie felt overdressed, wearing her short sleeved blue worn denim shirt unbuttoned over a wife beater and shorts with her Converse, pockets stuffed with pre-rolls gifting her that usual marijuana infused smell that followed her around that said ‘Hey everyone! I’m a dealer!’ Upon stepping out into the backyard, it was clear what kind of party it was. The sun was still shining, and people seemed pretty drunk already — jumping off the low roof and into the pool, girls on the outskirts squealing in their bikinis. The floor was practically vibrating with the bass from a Drake song and the sun was sizzling the back of Ellie’s neck — recipe for a headache, she thought. She’d sell her shit, and get out.

She knew you’d be here. In the back of her mind she knew. And yet, her heart still damn near thudded out her chest when you were suddenly right in front of her, arms extended with a big toothy grin. Ellie had almost panicked, not ready for the confrontation. She hadn’t even gotten herself a drink yet, hadn’t even smoked yet and here you were. You were wearing a white bikini and it looks so pretty against your soft skin. She was looking at your tits again.

Ah, shit.

“Ellie! M’so happy you came! I didn’t think I’d ever see you at one of these!” You all but squealed, throwing your arms around her neck and pulling your body taut against hers. Ellie didn’t have to look at Dina and Jesse to know that their eyebrows were practically in their hairline, taking in the scene in front of them. Your bikini top was damp still clearly having taken a dip in the pool earlier, along with the ends of your hair and she felt the wet triangles pressing damp spots into her own chest, your tits pressed up against her. You even had the nerve to let out a happy little ‘mmph’ moan as your body collided with hers. Were you really that happy to see her? God, if I had a dick right now, it would be rock fuckin’ hard. Thank fuck I don’t, Ellie thought— eyes opening again, not realising that she had squeezed them shut to suppress a moan when she’d hugged you back.

“Uh, yeah! Told you I’d consider it.” She tried to play it cool when she pulled back, taking in your giggly expression. You didn’t let go of her arm as you pulled away, and a waft of alcohol drifted through to Ellie’s nose, suddenly helping her understand the situation a little better. You were pretty drunk, but where was your boyfriend? Ellie scanned behind you, searching for his brunette mop only to be met with several dozens of them. Great. She felt a spike of anger in her chest again, violently protective. Who just leaves their girl wandering around in a bikini, drunk, at a frat party? “Wheres your little boyfriend?” Her expression flattened out, and she caught herself. She didn’t mean for it to come out like… that. Luckily, you were drunk enough to not notice the bitterness in her tone.

“Louis? Oh— uh…” Your bottom lip stuck out as you spun around on your tiptoes to see over heads, scanning the yard for him before spinning back with a shrug. You dropped back down onto the balls of your feet and your tits bounced in Ellie’s peripheral vision. “Who knows.” You giggle, eyes jumping to Ellie’s two friends, silently watching with amused smirks.

“Oh, uh— these are my friends. Dragged me along here. Dina,” She pointed. “And Jesse.” He gave you a little wave.

“Hi!” You chirped with an adorable little wave, before telling them your own name. “I’m not usually this…uh—”

“Drunk?” Ellie leant forward quietly with a smirk, like it was a secret just between the two of you. You giggled, turning back to her, introductions long forgotten as your face morphed into a theatric pout, blown out puppy dog eyes and all.

“Who says I’m drunk? Maybe I’m just really friendly.” You practically pur, suggestiveness dripping off your tone as your hand pulled her by her arm just that little bit closer, soft fingertips over her tattoo. Just as Ellie scrambled for an answer — your name was called in a familiar voice. Louis.

“Babe, there you are.” He sounded irritated, and Ellie straightened her back, jaw squaring ever so slightly. Be friendly, Ellie. He’s a customer — she remind herself. A shitty one, but he still pays you.

“Oh…” He took Ellie in, eyes jumping over her attire before glancing back at you. She just admit, she did look violently lesbian that day — and the body language between her and his girl wasn’t looking all too great to fresh eyes. “Hey.”

You reluctantly let go of Ellie’s arm, which didn’t go unnoticed by the brunette boy.

“I was just catching up with Ellie!” You grinned, and God — were you aware of just how flirtatious you looked batting your eyelashes up at her like that? In front of your boyfriend?

“Yeah, I see that.” Louis’ eyes didn’t leave Ellie’s, which of course she took as a competition without even thinking. She took a step closer, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She stood around 5’7. Taller when she wore boots. Taller if she fixed her posture. He wasn’t much taller than her, so she pretty much met his eye. Her heart skipped a few beats knowing you were watching her, but she held his gaze anyway— tilting her chin up a little. “Thanks for looking after my girl.” He spoke, which almost made Ellie want to laugh.

“Any time.” Eye to eye, the smirk that tugged at her lips held more meaning and the two of you knew it. Oh, she’d look after you alright. Louis’ eyes flickered away, glancing over at Dina and Jesse before back to her, stepping away and putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Come watch me play beer pong?” He spoke to you and you shrugged happily, taking the drink out of his hand and sipping. The freckled dealer couldn’t help but briefly think about how if you were with her she would have cut you off by this point, wrapping an arm around your waist and telling you that you’d had enough to drink, maybe suggest grabbing you a water. As he lead you away, you craned in his hold to wave at Ellie, who waved a few fingers back— watching closely. It was a casual crush before, but now it was on. She didn’t like Louis’ smugness, nor his general attitude or the way he was neglecting you. She had to take you and leave him with nothing. No, Ellie. You’re being like him. She’s not a piece of meat. But she knew the protectiveness didn’t stem from that. Did she think about you sexually? Yeah. But she could give you more than that. You were a sweet girl, and you should be treated as such.

“That was tense.” Dina raised her eyebrows, breaking the auburn haired girls concentration, her gaze snapping back to her friends.

“Oh, uh — he’s fuckin’… weird. I dunno. I give him my shitty weed.” She shrugged it off, looking over her shoulder once more to watch you disappear inside.

“I get it now, though. She’s a total smoke show.” Dina dropped her hand onto Ellie’s shoulder who sighed, shaking off the whole interaction.

“Whatever. I need a drink.” Ellie rolled her eyes, stepping away.

“She was hot.”

“Jesse, it’s okay when I say it. Not when you say it.”

“What? You just called her a smoke show! You’ve never called me that.”

Ellie left the bickering couple behind to find a beer, needing something cool and alcoholic to wind her down. Why was she getting so possessive over someone that wasn’t hers? You were making her feel like a creep, and she didn’t like that. Ellie did not catch feelings easily, despite her past mistakes. So like… what the fuck?

She didn’t see you for two weeks.

Maybe you’d realised you shouldn’t be giving her the eyes. Maybe Louis stepped up his game, who knows. Neither of you had even purchased any weed, and it was approaching exam season so Ellie knew you were stressed. But did she know? Was it presumptuous of her to ‘know’ how you feel?Just based off several occurrences and conversations when you’d come to her dorm to pick up? She tried to shake the feeling of you, your skin grazing hers and your pretty eyes staring up at her — and it was actually working. Maybe time does heal everything. Until of course, she went to the library and the clocks reversed on themselves.

She had to admit, she was falling a little behind in her work. She had gotten so preoccupied in selling that she had almost forgotten to be, well… a student. Her backpack was making her shoulder sore so she switched it to the other as she wandered through the building, fairly quiet for a Tuesday. She felt a pit of irritation bud inside her when she saw someone sat in the seat she wanted, the one that was away from everyone else in the library. She note the pink laptop case, the Hello Kitty stickers on the water bottle, the bracelets on the protruding arm. Oh, it was you.

Ellie was planning to walk on by. You’re here to do work, not flirt or get yourself involved in some kind of sapphic shenanigan. Your head was on the desk, and she figured you had fallen asleep — which almost made her smile fondly before she caught herself. Not yours, Ellie. As she stepped away however, she heard a sniffle. Then another. Ellie froze, willing herself not to do it. It’s not your responsibility Ellie, you can walk away and pretend you never saw. She pursed her lips, turning around anyway.

As she did so, you were lifting your head from the table, wiping your cheeks and nose of tears. You had this pitiful pout on your face, streaming eyes all pink and glossy and your nostrils damp in this oddly adorable way. Ellie still had time to creep away, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“You uh… you good?” She stood awkwardly, making you snap your head towards her in surprise. She didn’t miss the way your eyes widened slightly in embarrassment at seeing a familiar face in such a vulnerable moment.

“Oh — Ellie. Um, yes. I’m fine.” You tried, but when you held her doubtful gaze — your lip wobbled again.

“Okay.” Ellie sighed after a beat, pulling up a seat and dragging it to your small table. Yep, she was doing this. “Talk to me.” She spoke in a hushed tone. She was so gentle with her voice and her eyes and her general demeanour — something you weren’t so used to — it soothed you enough to calm you for a moment and you revelled in the unfamiliar but warm feeling she brought you.

“I don’t wanna bore you with it.” You shook your head with an demure chuckle. Ellie wanted to reach forward and wipe your tears away, her hands itched on the table in-front of her instead.

“We’re literally in the library. I promise you that nothing is more boring than my text-book.” She raised an eyebrow with the attempts of making you laugh. Instead, you watched her for a moment. Ellie could tell you were wondering why she was being so nice to you. Does she treat all her customers this way?

“It’s… stupid. Louis just…” You sigh, as if the mere mention of his name makes you cringe. “We’re not that serious. So… I don’t care what he goes off and does in his spare time,” Interesting, Ellie noted. “But he gets really mad. And when he gets mad he gets mean. I guess I just need thicker skin.” Your voice cracked.

“Or you need to be with someone who’s not an asshole.” Ellie snipped before she got the chance to stop herself. Your eyes met hers again, a little wide in shock. “Sorry.” She closed her eyes, collecting herself. You blinked and two fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

“It’s… okay.” You whispered, playing with your bracelet. A silence sat between you two, just the sound of quiet shuffling in the library and your sniffs.

“Look, don’t let him get to you. You don’t… deserve that.” She shook her head and you nodded slowly, accepting. It was as if Louis were purposely giving her more reason to dislike him, and it was getting harder to hide her distaste for him. Snide comments were slipping out more frequently, Shit — she could barely even contain her facial expressions when his name was mentioned. Something had to be done soon, because she didn’t know how much ‘pretending’ she had left in her. Thankfully, the two of you seemed to have developed a bit of a friendship — so she felt less guilty about bashing your boyfriend, as you seemed understanding due to his often unlikeable ways.

“You done here soon?” Ellie looked around at the library. You wiped your cheek, hitting save on your laptop and shrugging.

“Didn’t really have any work to do, just didn’t know where to go.” You pout sadly, making Ellie have to dig her nails into her seat this time so that she didn’t lean forward and kiss it off you.

“Y’wanna smoke? On me. You need cheering up.” She stood up, swinging her backpack back on, studying long forgotten. You looked up at her hopefully, a glint of reluctance in your eye. You didn’t know why it felt wrong, you weren’t technically doing anything wrong. Just two friends hanging out, right? Louis wouldn’t know that you’re attracted to her. You wasn’t even sure if Louis remembered that you were bisexual for Gods sake, despite telling him a whole bunch of times.

“Really? I can pay you Ellie…” Your eyebrows knit together, and she was already shaking her head.

“My treat. I don’t like seeing pretty girls cry. Makes me wanna cry. You want me to cry?” She joked, pointing at herself in disbelief. She felt relief at the giggle that made its way out your throat, covering your mouth as to not disturb the other library goers. Pretty girls. The words echoed around your head until your face was hot before it dropped into your stomach and made a nest there.

“Okay.” You agreed after a moment. What harm could it do? Louis was an asshole, and the guilt began to slip away as you stood up — remembering all the nasty things he’d said to you.

“Alright, good.” Ellie grinned, turning her face away for a moment so maybe you wouldn’t see how excited she was. You did.

_

“Thats a terrible first high story.” You giggled, taking a draw from the joint.

“What? Fuck you let’s hear yours then!” Ellie gaped, leaning forward from her seat on her bed to take the joint from you as you exhaled. You bit back your smile, letting your pink, watery eyes sail off in thought at you recalled your first time smoking.

“Kay, so… I was 17.” You staged dramatically, widening your eyes slightly as she smirked at your theatrics, leaning back with her eyes glued to you. If you weren’t so blazed, maybe you’d feel nervous under her simmering gaze. “Best friends brother let us smoke some in the backyard with his friends. I tried to play it cool, but I smoked too much and start laughing and I couldn’t stop. Like — it was painful, and I was scared because I couldn’t stop laughing. And they were all looking at me like what the fuck… so I went inside, tried to calm myself down and I threw up on the carpet. Like a distressed cat.” You pouted lightheartedly as Ellie chuckled along with your story.

“Threw up? How strong was the weed? Damn.” She laughed and you shook your head.

“It might have been the shots we’d done before hand to calm our nerves. Bad idea.” You cringed and she nodded, eyes still piercing into you as her laughter died down.

“That might’ve been it, yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as she brought the joint to her lips once again, sucking in as she inhaled the pungent smoke. Ellie always got this confidence about her when she smoked. Well — she always had this slightly cocky demeanour about her, but for the most part it was an act. A need to protect herself. A defence mechanism that helped her get by — being a dealer was a social ass job. But smoking made that feeling real. She knew that was bad, relying on weed for real confidence and all, but hey — she’ll take what she can get.

“How you feeling? Any better?” She tested the waters, almost sorry she brought it up when you remembered Louis’ existence, expression melting a little into one of slight disappointment. One that said ‘Oh yeah… him.’ Like you’d forgotten for a moment.

“I guess. Not gonna let it bother me like you said. I don’t have the energy.” You shrugged, tearing your gaze away to study your baby pink manicure instead. Ellie scoffed out a little chuckle, finally stubbing out the joint. The noise attracted your attention and you met her analytical stare.

“Can I… ask what you see in that guy? Not judging just… curious.” She held her hands up in defence, but you didn’t exactly jump to his rescue. Infact it took you a moment to think about it.

“I don’t…” You stop yourself from saying ‘I don’t know’, your pride still burning despite the weed letting your guard down. “He’s… nice most of the time. Kinda guy your parents want you to bring home. He’s not as bad as he seems around other people. I guess he makes me feel wanted when we’re together?” You consider, but the way you say it makes Ellie think that you don’t even fully believe it. “I think… it was gonna be just sex. When I first met him anyway, but if I’m being totally honest the sex isn’t worth it on its own so I dunno… I thought I’d feel more fulfilled by a commitment, you know?”

Ellie was delighted, to be honest. It was music to her ears. You were just spewing about how unfulfilled you were, and she was starting to feel more and more confident that she could convince you that there was a bigger and better world out there. She laughed, openly — letting the joy of the moment go to her head for a minute.

“Oh that’s funny?” You giggled back, chucking a small brown sentimental looking teddy bear at her from her bed. You pursed your lips and she could tell despite your laughter you were knocked slightly insecure by her reaction.

“A little.” She looks off to the side. You want to chuck something else at her but there’s nothing to throw.

“Why?” You push. You know why.

“Your boyfriend can’t fuck.” Her stomach tensed as another laugh bubbled up and you rolled your eyes theatrically, pushing yourself up just so you can dramatically change your position to face the other way on the bed, arms crossed and brow creased.

“Not opening up to you again.” You push out and she nudges you gently with her foot, a more sympathetic (yet equally amused) expression still at the surface.

“No, I’m sorry. Go on.” She waved her a hand a little in the smoky room, nudging you again with her sock covered toe.

“Thats it! There’s nothing else to it. My boyfriend can’t fuck and it sucks. I hate everything.” You complain, not daring to face her. She can’t help but burst out laughing again, the back of her head leaning back to rest on the wooden headboard as she runs a hand over her eyes, shielding herself from the bright dorm light, and you. She lets out an ‘ahhh’ at the end of her outburst.

She hears you whine her name, and she takes more pity on you this time purely because you sound so cute.

“Alright uh— tell me what he’s doing wrong. I’ll give you pointers to give to him so he can fix his shit.” She tries suddenly, as if just being struck by the idea — and she feels you slowly look at her. She pushes her chin down to her chest, looking at you now as she removes her hand from her eyes. You blink at her a couple of times, still pretty, still high as a kite.

You inhale through your nose, eyes drifting off in thought as you turn back towards her, invested, tucking your feet beneath your ass. You hum, coming up blank. “I don’t know. I feel like… you either got it or you don’t, you know? Sex is… emotional. Well, it should be. To him it’s just… getting off.” You shrug, opting to pick at a loose thread on her grey bed throw than look at her. The smirk is still dying on her lips like the slither of sunlight resting on water at the culmination of a sunset. She takes a little longer to think, brain fogged by her high.

“So… okay.” She pushes her palms into the bed to sit up a little more. “What do you like? I don’t really pin you as someone who… wants to be in control.” She analyses, watching you carefully for a reaction. She notices the flick up of your eyebrows and guesses — correct.

“With him there’s no… no one is in control. It’s not one person calling the shots or any kind of dynamic it’s just… we just fuck and that’s it.” You sound sad this time, like bringing the conversation to forefront was making you realised just how unhappy you were.

“Do you cum?” She asks abruptly, and you nearly choke on your own saliva. You think it catches her off guard too, because she looks away from you for a moment and itches her head before deciding fuck it, and goes back to staring. You bite your lip. Well there was that one time, you were on your back — Louis on top, you had a hand pressed between the two of you, rubbing your clit in quick sloppy circles as he got busy. Your eyes were closed. Did you cum? Kind of? Your eyes were closed. You were somewhere else. Somewhere softer and warmer, and it didn’t smell like beer and sweat. You shake your head, no. It was the closest time though, but Louis got all hostile about you touching yourself during sex. Said it was insulting, that you undermined him. You shook off the memory.

“No?” She whispers, eyebrows raised to the high heavens as if she just couldn’t fathom having sex and not making her partner cum — because that’s exactly what she was doing. She felt that hot tingling anger again in her chest, but it was dulled out by the weed — leaving her with just a light irritation at the back of her throat. “Thats fucked up.”

“Is it? I mean… orgasms take time. Doesn’t just happen in five minutes… that can get exhausting.” You defend, and you’re not sure why. You both know there’s no excuse.

“Nah.” She sniffs, not quite bothered to begin on how wrong you are. She switches the subject slightly instead. “So let me guess, missionary everytime?”

Your eyes widen, pressing your fingers over your lips to stop the childish giggle from bursting out. Ellie’s eyes widen too, realising how, well — down bad she was acting. She felt like a teenage boy on Snapchat playing truth or dare asking an uninterested girl if she’d ever send nudes before.

“Uh— fuck, you don’t have to answer that. Just making conversatio—”

“Most of the time. I think…” You decide to share something to make her feel less invasive, not wanting the conversation to end. You actually enjoyed getting to talk someone about this. “I think I’d feel good on top, maybe. But, hmm. How do I put this?” You thought. You looked at her for a moment and she gazed back, waiting on you to continue. Her breath caught in her throat when you crawled up toward her. “Lay back, please?” It was a request, not a command — and Ellie thought she might be dreaming when you straddled her with a frustrated expression.

You settled, and she was hyper aware of the feeling of your pillowy ass dropped down onto her thighs over her warm crotch.

“Okay, say I’m here. In this position.” You explain as well as you can, and when you give a few demonstrative bounces on her phantom cock her hands instinctively land on your hips to steady you. Fuck. Fucking shit. You don’t even seem to notice, or care. “This,” You point at your position. “Is me being in charge and… I don’t want that. It— it doesn’t get me off. I don’t wanna feel like I’m dominating them.” You whisper the last part like you’re telling her a secret at a girly sleepover, and she catches herself grinning before she scrambles, running over what you just said in her brain.

“Wait. Nah, that’s…” She adjusts herself slightly sheepish because she can feel herself blushing. Be cool, Ellie. Be dominant. “Thats bull. It doesn’t matter what position you’re in, it’s about how you make them feel.” She shrugs, and when you continue to stare at her, pink, glossy wide eyes— she carries on, you requiring more explanation. “If you’re on top working overtime, he should be telling you what a good job you’re doin’. How pretty you look doin’ it.” Her voices rasps in the way it does when she gets horny and she hopes she’s not giving herself away. Your mind goes a little blank, succumbing to the daydream of receiving that kind of praise. It makes your skin feel clammy. Louis isn’t below you in your daydream. Your freckled friend breaks your trail of thoughts. “And,” She’s smug now, and raises her knees behind you, planting her feet down on the bed and thrusting upwards a few times making you bounce a little, gripping her tighter. “Doesn’t matter if you were on top. I could still be the one fucking you. Just like this.”

You pause, only because you’re frozen in fear that she can feel the sudden floodgates open between your legs— praying to every God imaginable that you don’t leave some kind of pathetic wet patch on her. She thinks you’ve frozen at what she’s said.

“Uh— I mean Louis. Louis could still be the one— yeah.” She shrugs off, squeezing your hips with her warm fingers and you’re suddenly aware of your compromising position again, shaken from a dream. You slide off her quickly, bringing your knees to your chest and your back to the cool wall beside her bed. You were not a cheater. It doesn’t matter that the two of you didn’t kiss, or fuck, or whatever — what would have happened if Louis had walked in and seen you in your very gay dealers lap, pretending to have sex? You were not a cheater.

Ellie’s mouth was agape, like she wanted to say sorry but just couldn’t find it in her to feel sorry enough to say it. Her eyes were worried however, worried she’d made you uncomfortable or pushed it too far.

“I should… I shouldn’t stay. It’s getting late and—” You started looking for your bag with your laptop in it, where did you put it again?

“I’m sorry I— I didn’t mean to be weird. That was… I made you feel—” Her tone was apologetic now.

“No, no. It’s not that. I’m just hungry and I get weird when I’m… when I haven’t eaten. You’re fine. I mean, you were fine. Nothing weird just… friends hanging out, right?”

It hurt her, but Ellie nodded anyway. You were going back to him. It always ended this way.

“‘Kay. You got everything? You gonna be okay getting back? You’re still high.” Ellie stood, awkwardly dawdling behind you as you scooped up your purse. “I can walk you back—” She started patting her pockets for her key card.

“It’s okay, really. It’s still light outside and it’s a short walk. I think I need just… fresh air and quiet.” You avoid her eyes, but turn to face her as you back towards her door.

“Okay.” She was disappointed. “I hope you feel better now, ‘n stuff.” Your hand pushed the cold metal handle down and the hallway of her building was just as muggy, but it felt like a relief when some of the smoke from her dorm was released.

“I do.” You could look now, standing in the hallway as she didn’t move past her doorway. The distance made it safe enough to look at her pretty eyes without feeling you were going to do something bad. “Thank you Ellie. I owe you one.” Your brows knit together sincerely. Sure, I have a favour I need — break up with your boyfriend.

“Sure.” Ellie left it there, shook her head like it was nothing. “Text me and just… let me know that you got in okay. Yeah?” She continued to speak to you as you backed up down the hallway, awkwardly fumbling with your bag. It was wrong to let a girl walk back home high and alone. She thought about you walking around drunk and alone at that frat party. She was Louis this time.

“Will do. See you, Ellie.” Her name sounded like music when you said it. She had a new favourite song.

Your dorm was cooler, refreshing to be in when you got back. Your first mission was to look in the mirror and you sighed almost angrily seeing how flustered and a little dishevelled you look. You wanted to take the clothes off that touched her, still stinking of weed. You wanted food in your belly to flush her out. Flopping onto your back on your bed you pull your phone out, ignoring the texts and calls from your boyfriend — all to send a message to your dealer.

‘got back safe, thanks again😊’ You regret the emoji, but the Read: 5:13PM was immediate so there was no time to regret it for long. Three bubbles and then ‘Good’. You stare at the text, and then stare past the phone. You didn’t want to answer Louis right now. He could wait until tomorrow.

part two

[controversially-young-girlfriend]

the first date (spencer reid x fem reader)

<3 oneshot with smut ahead <3

both you and the bau are getting ready for your first tinder date. while you hope he might be your new man, he’s also the unsub targeting young women that reid and the team are on the lookout for tonight.

*

you arrive at the restaurant in your hottest mini dress and a veil of nervousness. everyone hates first dates - agreeing to a few hours of awkward conversation with a stranger in the hope that they’re not a total creep.

unknowing to you, the two men sitting to your left are also dreading your first date.

thanks to garcia they’ve been tracking the tinder profile of who you believe is henry, a 27 year old brunette lawyer who loves his cat. before you two matched he was logan, 25, blonde and a writer, changing his photos and identity after every date.

the girls before you didn’t make it out alive, but now that they’ve learned that “henry” is taking you out tonight, they’ve arrived to save you and apprehend their unsub.

after a minute of waiting your date arrives. “hi nice to meet you, i’m henry”

you feel on edge noticing the difference between his appearance and his photos. but he looks normal enough that you don’t run away immediately. you apprehensively shake his hand and follow him to the bar, hoping to at least get a free drink out of getting catfished on a friday night.

he gives a half-assed excuse for the difference in his photos. age, lighting, haircut. you want to ask why but his delivery of the excuse is patrick bateman-esque, emotive but ultimately soulless. you pray in your head he’s just a business bro and not a sociopath.

as you wait for your drinks you see a handsome brunette walk up to the bar near you. you’re a little disappointed he doesn’t approach you, so you return your focus onto your date.

the bartender hands you two cocktails which you very eagerly take a sip from in order to ease the anxiety you’re feeling right now. after quickly checking the time on your phone and leaning in to take another sip, that handsome brunette knocks your drink onto the ground and pushes you behind him.

you’re in shock. before you can scream or run or do anything besides freeze in fear, a man at a table points his gun at your date. “i’m special agent aaron hotchner” pulling out his badge, “you’re under arrest for the murders of…”

he continues, but the word murder is enough to turn your body red hot and weak. you try and hold yourself together, starting to process that you were on a date with a murderer? you knew your taste in men was questionable sometimes but this was a new low…

you notice the brunette who pushed you away is also holding a gun, pointed at your date as he walks out of the restaurant in handcuffs. you’re a deer in the headlights until he fully leaves the building.

“i’m dr. spencer reid” he introduces himself, briefly flashing his fbi badge and then handing you a glass of water.

you still can’t form a sentence from the shock.

“i would suggest you have as much of the water as you can. while i don’t think you drank much of the benzodiazepines he slipped in your drink, you should try and flush out as much as you can so you don’t feel any intense nausea.”

“i uh i was drugged?” you ask, feeling like that’s a good starting point to figure out what the fuck just happened to you.

“attempted drugging. based on the volume you drank you won’t have any serious health effects.”

you’re slightly comforted but still shocked. “so what exactly just happened? my tinder date was a murderer?”

“he’s been using dating apps to find female victims, intoxicating them and then killing them once they’ve lost consciousness. we were able to access his profile which indicated he’d be on a date tonight at this restaurant.” he pauses for a second sensing your clear discomfort. “sorry. it can be traumatic for victims to remain at the scene of their crimes. would you like me to drive you to my office?”

“is it okay if you just drive me home instead? i’ve had quite the night.”

as you and reid walk to the car, the cold air brings you back to reality and your anxiety begins to subside. you give spencer your address and he tells you about his job as a profiler, going on tangents with statistics you’re shocked a person could have so easily memorized.

you’re grateful though, your mind is taken off your brush with death and is instead focused on the hot fbi agent saving you. you pull into the lot beside your apartment building and ask dr. reid inside, you want to thank him for his help and also can’t really fathom being alone right now.

you two talk over a pot of tea, feeling calm enough to ask about the events of tonight.

“from a profiler’s perspective, why did he choose me as a victim? am i just naive and vulnerable?”

“not at all. you can’t blame yourself, you just fit his preferred profile of victim. he’s been targeting women in their early 20s, all of which are highly educated and physically attractive.”

“so i got targeted for being too young, smart, and hot?” you say sarcastically, trying to humour your way out of the guilt you feel for almost getting yourself killed.

reid darts his eyes and nervously agrees, “uh yeah. pretty much.”

you’d be lying if you said him thinking you’re hot didn’t excite you a bit.

“i’m a little scared to sleep alone tonight then. don’t want anymore murders coming after me, y’know.” you tell him and immediately notice him smile and blush.

“i fear it would be quite unprofessional if i slept over while on your case.” you’re disappointed but can sense an intrigue in his voice that makes you want to keep pushing.

“it’s a good thing you caught the suspect then. sounds like the case is closed and you’re off duty right now.”

“i like that technicality. but-“

before he can continue speaking, you grab the remote and switch on your tv.

“great! i’ll put on a movie for us then.” you say with immense satisfaction.

as the movie progresses you two slowly shift closer and closer, his arm around you as you rest your head on his shoulder. he senses your discomfort and remembers he’s still wearing his bulletproof vest. he whispers “sorry” into your ear before shifting to unbutton his shirt and take the vest off.

your eyes immediately shift from the screen to him, transfixed on his fingers going from button to button, removing the vest to leave him in just an undershirt. he lies back on the couch, leaving him in the perfect position for you to lie on top of.

his hands slowly feel across your back and down to your waist. you lean in and begin to kiss him. he lightly grips your hair as the kiss deepens, feeling his tongue slip into your mouth. you can’t help but grind your hips against him underneath you, becoming desperate for this to escalate from a makeout into more.

you can tell he feels the same way as he gets hard under your hips, but leans away to check in for a second. “are you okay with this? you’ve had a tough night.”

you grab his face in your hand and lock eyes, “that’s exactly why i need you to take my mind off it, dr. reid.”

without hesitation he grabs you and flips you over onto your back, quickly returning to kissing you. he slips his knee between your legs as he starts to kiss down your neck to your collarbones. you help him remove your dress, taking his shirt off right after. he kisses down your body until reaching your panties, briefly admiring the pair you chose for your date tonight. he ghosts his fingers over them earning a soft moan out of you. he adjusts your legs to pull off your panties, positioning himself between them and kissing up and down your thighs.

your hand grips his hair as he finds your clit with his tongue. you can’t help but tell him how good he feels. as the feeling gets more intense he grips your thighs tighter to hold you in place. it’s not long until you’re finishing, breathing heavily as you watch spencer come up from between your legs to place a kiss on your lips.

“good distraction?”

“the best.” you reply

you get off the couch and onto your knees, looking up at reid to say “i don’t think i ever thanked you for saving me tonight”

he smiles as you take off his belt and unzip his pants, pulling them down with his boxers. he grabs your hair into a ponytail gently pulls it to tilt your head up. “you’re really beautiful” he tells you before you take him into your mouth. he guides your head up and down, mumbling praises and gripping you a bit tighter.

“fuck you’re so good”

he doesn’t last much longer before finishing in your mouth. you look up and admire how beautiful he looks undone and breathless.

he pulls you up onto his lap, both arms wrapped around your waist. you press your forehead into his neck and breathe slowly, taking in the first semblance of pure comfort you’ve felt all night.

you two eventually get up from the couch and migrate into your bed. exhausted, you guys lie intertwined.

“i think i need this sort of fbi protection every night. y’know just in case there’s anymore killers lurking” you whisper to spencer

spencer replies “gladly.” planting a kiss on your forehead and holding you until you fall asleep.

[justauthoring]

TOKYO REVENGERS - UH, HE’S TAKEN?

includes: manjiro “mikey” sano, ken “draken” ryuguji, chifuyu matsuno and mitsuya takashi all x fem!reader!

a/n: this is not proofread. we die like men.  maybe i’ll proofread it tomorrow...

MIKEY:

The absolute audacity of this girl.

You’re almost positive you’re imagining this because... she couldn’t be serious could she?

“Mikey, say ‘ah’!”

With barely concealed disdain written across your face, you watch as the same girl who's been hanging off of Mikey’s arm since the both of you arrived at the shrine with the rest of your friends, proceeds to try and feed Mikey a treat. Of course, it’s taiyaki and it’s clear by the wide grin on her lips that she hopes the taunt of his favourite treat will entice him into doing as she asks.

She hasn’t left his side all night and whilst at first you’d tried to ignore the jealousy burning deep within you, it was getting harder by the second.

From pulling Mikey from your side with her arm tightly wound around his own, to making sure to keep you at a distance all night, your excitement for the night had quickly dwindled into disappointment at hurt. At first you’d convinced yourself that Mikey was just trying to be nice, but it hurt you to see him continuously let this girl hang off of him, giggle at every little thing he says and make sure to throw every flirtatious comment she possibly can.

Did he really not care?

This girl was clearly in love with Mikey, or at the very least had a big crush on him. And it didn’t seem she really cared that Mikey had a girlfriend in the first place – that girlfriend being you. You knew Mikey could be dense, but you were also positive he wasn’t oblivious enough to miss her very plain intentions and seeing him let her do whatever she wanted burned a hurt deep inside of you you hadn’t thought possible. 

It was getting hard to convince yourself that Mikey wasn’t simply enjoying her attention.

You’re too hurt to notice the expression on Mikey’s face as you frown, gaze lowering to your feet only for the hurt the resurface all over again. You’d been so excited for this evening and even more so when Mikey had personally invited you to join him and his friends to the shrine for New Years Eve. It wasn’t like you hadn’t expected to go with him, but it had warmed your heart when he’d still asked despite already being in a relationship and you’d felt a great bout of excitement when it realized this would be Mikey’s first time seeing you in a traditional yukata.

You’d had Emma help you get ready, making sure to wear a material the same shade of Mikey’s long hair and he’d barely looked at you all night since that girl had arrived.

“See, Mikey? Surely, you’d like a girl more like me, wouldn’t you?”

Her words burn, and you feel your eyes watering, turning away before even bothering to listen to Mikey’s response.

Given how he’d been acting all night, you’re sure he’d be no different now.

“Y/N-chan…”

At the sound of Emma’s voice, you simply shake your head; “it’s okay, Emma. I think I’m just gonna head home.” Sending her a small smile, you wave at her; “say bye to the others for me, kay?”

She doesn’t respond. Not at first.

Quickly latching onto your arm, Emma pulls you back, halting you from leaving. You turned to her confused, but she just points past your shoulder, shaking your head; “look.”

Despite the ever growing want to cry and practically run out of there, you listen to Emma nonetheless, slowly turning your head over your shoulder, only to catch the tail end of Mikey slapping the taiyaki out of the girl's hand. Your eyes widen, surprised, watching the treat fall to the ground and crumble apart as the girl watches on in disbelief, lips parting.

“Mikey, what was–”

“You’re such a hassle, you know that?” Mikey cuts her off, head tilting with a rather serious look on his face. “You’ve been overly clingy all night and I haven’t been able to hang out with Y/N/N-chan at all.”

The girls face twists, anger befalling her expression; “how dare–”

“How dare you,” he huffs, “as if I’d ever choose you over Y/N.”

With that, he all but rips the girl's arm off of him, turning around with hesitation. His eyes flicker across the crowd of people for a moment, before settling on you and instantly his expression brightens, eyes lighting up as he picks up his step, reaching you in seconds. You’re still too in shock to respond to his hug, catching a last glance of the girl with a flushed face of embarrassment and narrowing her eyes at you darkly.

But then Mikey’s pulling back, pulling your focus on him.

“Y/N-chan!” He whines, “I want taiyaki!”

You let a laugh out at that, shaking your head as you feel your body slowly easing.

“Come on, you big baby, I’ll get you some taiyaki then.”

He slips his hand into yours, squeezing. “And you’ll feed it to me?”

Rolling your eyes, you nod; “of course.”

DRAKEN:

“You know that Ken likes… more girly girls, right?”

Blinking at the sudden stranger standing in front of you – a girl you’re sure you’ve never seen before – you’re too baffled to even know what to say.

“Um,” you try to laugh, “what?”

“Ken,” she says, addressing your boyfriend far too friendly for your taste. “He’s your boyfriend right?”

Nodding slowly, you hum, “yeah.”

“Just surprising is all,” she shrugs, an entirely too smug look on her face. “I mean, I wouldn’t think he’d go for a girl like you.”

The words are said will barely concealed disgust. It isn’t hard to notice the way she’s eyeing you, clearly judging you as she looks you up and down, arms crossed over her chest. And you’re sure you look like a fool, lips parted in bafflement and brows furrowed as you try to make sense of just what exactly is happening here.

This girl, a girl you’ve never seen, is not only eyeing you up and down like you’re dressed in a garbage bag, but also has the audacity to tell you that Ken wouldn’t go for a girl like you?

“And what type of girl would he go for?” You question, quirking a brow at the girl.

She smiles then, expression brightening as she flips her hair back; “a girl like me, duh.”

You snort then, shaking your head; “does Draken even know who you are?”

Indignation crosses her features then, face falling as her eyes widen in disbelief. “We have the same class together!” She calls out, voice pitching as she rushes to explain herself. “We sit next to each other every day.”

“Just never heard him mention you before is all,” you nod, shrugging. “If you were an actual threat, I think I would’ve heard about you by now, don’t you?”

Her face flares, turning red. But before she can say anything, your name is called by another.

Head turning over your shoulder, your face eases at the sight of Draken. He’s making his way out of the school, a certain expression of relief painted on his feet, reminding you that you were supposed to meet him by his class after school and he’d clearly been looking for you when you’d never shown up.

He looks mildly confused by the sight of the girl before settling his eyes back on you.

“I was waiting for you, Y/N.”

Smiling sheepishly, you rub the back of your neck; “sorry, Draken. I got caught up with…” Your voice trails as you turn back to the girl, feeling the familiar sensation of Draken’s arm sliding around your waist, tucking you into his side. You’re not really sure what to say in explanation when regarding how you’d been caught up by a girl who had been by all means trying to intimidate you in your own relationship with your boyfriend.

“Who are you?”

Draken, ever the blunt man he always is, doesn’t surprise you as he turns to the girl, brows furrowed in bafflement.

You hadn’t thought her face could get more red. You’re quickly proved wrong when her face explodes like a tomato, eyes narrowing; “Ken, we-we… we sit next to each other everyday.”

He just shrugs; “oh, sorry. Didn’t recognize you,” and a quick look at his face tells you he’s still not exactly sure who she is. He also looks mildly peeved at her familiar greeting of his name; a fact that nearly brings you into a fit of giggles.

Turning to you, Draken gestures behind him; “let’s go. We’re supposed to meet Mikey and Baji, remember?”

Eyes lighting up in recognition, you grin; “oh, yeah! I forgot!” You move to walk off, offering a small wave at the girl who doesn’t bother to return the action, obviously humiliated and with that, you let Draken turn you, leaning into his touch as you both make your way off the school grounds.

“I, uh… I didn’t recognize her,” Draken laughs once it’s just the two of you, pulling your eyes on him. You snort, shaking your head. “What did she even want with you?”

You hesitate, debating whether you should be honest or not.

Honestly though, you got your satisfaction the moment she was blatantly proved wrong right to her face that you’re hardly even bothered by her words anymore.

“Nothing,” you shrug, “don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“Oi,” Draken grumbles, “I’m not pretty.”

But the blush on his cheeks tells you he enjoyed the compliment anyways.

MITSUYA:

Sometimes Mitsuya was too nice for his own good.

You’ve thought that plenty of times before. Mainly when he pushes himself to the point of exhaustion just to help those he cares for. You always scold him for it, telling him that sometimes it was okay to put himself before others. He never really listened, and so in the end, you helped him when and wherever you could.

But, Mitsuya also could be too nice to those he didn’t even know. And it was hard to watch.

What had started as irritation, soon turned into frustration at the fact that no matter how many times you tried to talk to Mitsuya, he’d just brush you off, confident you were just overreacting. It had hurt even more when he’d called you jealous, to which you couldn’t deny you weren’t – but this had gone beyond simple jealousy.

You’ve been watching this girl use and abuse your boyfriend for weeks on end, using it as an excuse to spend more time with him. He’d accidentally knocked into her one day after school, knowing her homework straight into a puddle and effectively ruining it – when he’d professed how sorry he was and that he’d do anything to make up for it, the smile on the girls lips had been far too wide for it to simply be innocent. It had rubbed you the wrong way then, but you’d left it alone.

Now? Now, you’re sure she’d bumped into him that day on purpose, making it seem like his fault, so she could use it to her advantage and make him constantly do things for her, hang out with her, whilst abusing the fact that he’d promised her that ‘he owed her’. 

And Mitsuya was too nice to say otherwise even though it was obvious he’d more than made up for something that hadn’t even been his fault in the first place.

Mitsuya wouldn’t listen to reason and you were beyond simply watching it happen anymore. Except, when you’d tried to tell him, tried to explain how you felt and how it was upsetting you and how this girl was just using him, he’d simply scoffed at you, called you clingy and jealous and that he didn’t have time for you.

You’d left without another word, slamming the door shut behind you, whilst only letting your tears fall when you were sure you were alone.

That was two hours ago, and you hadn’t moved from your bed since plopping on it when you’d finally gotten home.

You couldn’t understand how Mitsuya couldn’t see how this girl was using him! How he would choose to believe some random girl over his own girlfriend, going far enough to insult you while he was at it.

You’re so upset you don’t hear your front door open, or the familiar sound of your mothers voice calling out Mitsuya’s name. You don’t register any of it until you hear your bedroom door open, and turn to find him standing right in front of you, a guilty expression clear on his face while panting, chest heaving.

You stare back at him, confused; “Takashi?”

“I’m so sorry,” he cries out, voice breathless. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you.”

He’s bowing his head, and you reel to understand. “Wha-What?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about that girl,” he explains, shaking his head. “You were right. She was just using me and I called you clingy and jealous because I didn’t want to believe it. It wasn’t right of me, and this is no excuse, but I am so sorry.”

Lips parting, you stare back at him. “Takashi…”

He steps forward then, falling to a seat in front of you on your bed. “I’m so sorry, baby.” His eyes wander from your eyes, to how red they are and the dried tear stains on your cheeks. “I made you cry…”

“Takashi,” you call out again, reaching for your hand. “It’s… It’s okay.  I forgive you.”

He shakes his head; “I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

Squeezing his hand, you shake your head, letting a soft smile curl on your lips. “I’m just happy you realized… I was so upset at her for using you like that.”

“I knew the moment she told me I should dump you for her,” Mitsuya explains, making your eyes widen as you stare back at him in disbelief. He flushes lightly, looking embarrassed. “I should’ve known sooner and I think I did… but just didn’t want to believe it. The second she said that… I was so angry. I can’t believe she’d talk about you like that.”

It was a surprise to see that her intentions had been more cruel than you’d originally thought…

Still, you were glad it made Mitsuya realize the truth if anything.

“You’re too nice for your own good, Takashi…”

CHIFUYU:

“I think me and Chifuyu would make a good pair, don’t you?”

Hinata freezes next to you, eyes slowly flickering over to you on her left, before back at the girl standing before the both of you. “What do you mean?” Hinata asks lightly, ever the polite and friendly girl.

“Well, I just mean, we work so well together. He’s always laughing at my jokes and I’m always making him blush.”

You feel your muscles tense, hand tightening around the cup in your hand and Hinata shuffles awkwardly next to you.

“Well, I mean, Y/N/N and Chifuyu are dating, so…”

The girl's eyes fall on you then and it takes everything in you not to slap her across the face. “Oh, that’s right,” she frowns in mock pity, tilting her head with a small shrug. “I’m sorry, Y/L/N. I nearly forgot you two were dating.”

You bite your lip, holding back your anger. “We’ve been dating for a year,” you remind, “not hard to remember.”

“I hardly see you guys together?” She questions, knowing exactly what she’s saying as she tilts her head in feigned wonder. There’s a twisted expression of pity on her face that has you insides boiling and you can feel Hinata’s hand on your arm where she squeezes, both to be comforting and to try and help calm you down. “Maybe it’s because he’s always with me…” She trails off, “we do spend a lot of time together.”

The absolute gall of this girl…

“Y/N/N and Chifuyu are very happy,” Hinata says in defense of you, and you feel yourself ease slightly at the sheer determination in her voice. For HInata to get so mad makes you feel more justified in your own feelings. “I think it’s silly of you to think he’d leave her so quickly for someone else.”

“But it’s not just ‘someone else’, no? It’s me.”

You don’t even know who this girl is.

Sure you’ve seen her briefly in passing, and you’re almost positive you’d seen her leave class with Chifuyu once but you’re also sure you’d seen a rather annoyed expression on her face as he had. 

For her to insinuate… you actually can’t even believe it.

“And I mean, Y/L/N’s not even saying anything so she must agree.”

Narrowed eyes falling on her, your lips part to respond, but before you can, another cuts in; “she doesn’t have to because what you’re saying is bullshit.”

Your body eases at the familiar sound of Chifuyu’s voice, feeling all your anger wash away within seconds when you feel his arm wound around your waist and comfortably slot himself next to your side. A quick glance to your right tells you Takemichi has fallen next to Hinata, the two of them clearly having been together before, and when turning to the girl, the expression on her face is a sight to see.

Cheeks warming, she shakes her head; “Chifuyu, you-you don’t think we’d make a good pairing?”

“No,” he says bluntly. “Besides, I’m already dating Y/N.” He gestures to you, and your eyes fall on him briefly.

“Bu-But what about–”

“What about nothing,” he cuts in, scoffing. “I’ve already told you to leave me alone. You’re annoying, jeez.”

The girl’s lips part, wanting to say anything, but she ends up just looking like a fool as she stands there, silent, lips gaping like a fish. You can see her eyes watering and in the next second, she’s spinning around, a whimper leaving her lips, and running off before anything can say otherwise.

You hear Chifuyu snort, Takemichi high-fiving him behind your head before turning his focus on Hinata as Chifuyu glances down at you.

“Sorry about her, babe,” Chifuyu frowns, “I hope you know she was wrong. About everything.”

“It’s okay…” You mumble after a moment, unable to stop the frown on your lips. “You didn’t have to be that harsh though…”

Chifuyu’s eyes widen in disbelief; “the girl couldn’t take a hint. I’ve been telling her to back off for weeks,” Chifuyu explains with a simple shrug, obviously unbothered by her reaction. “Besides, what she was saying about you? No one can talk about you like that.”

You want to argue otherwise, but his words make your heart flutter and when you think about it, the girl had walked herself into her own trap trying to belittle you like that.

“You’re right,” you shrug, smiling up at Chifuyu brightly.

“Of course I’m right,” he grins, straightening his shoulders out in a way that has you giggling. “Now let’s get lunch, I’m starving.”

You let him pull you away with a bright grin, completely forgetting about the girl.