#I know that show like the back of my hand and YET I would never be able to use it to write

[endursent]

My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (2)

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , slight shenanigans , gn!reader 】

【 characters; alhaitham , arataki itto , baizhu , cyno , dainsleif , diluc , kaedehara kazuha , kaeya , kamisato ayato , kaveh , neuvillette , tartaglia , thoma , venti , wanderer , wriothesley , xiao , zhongli 】

【 premise; " Your partner has been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned him into a cat, you have no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet you also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; made the genshin version... no reason for this to be like 19 pages 😭 】

【 word count; 8.723 | read on ao3 | hsr version】

Alhaitham ;

Kaveh gaped at you when you brought a cat into the house, one that… looked eerily similar to a certain blockhead. “I can explain,” you say as you set the cat down on the floor, he doesn’t enter the house further than you do, instead sitting down by your feet and observing the interaction with… interest? Amusement…? 

  Kaveh didn’t need much to be convinced, and immediately he thanked the Archons for giving him a few days of respite. Even just a few days of Alhaitham being unable to comment on what he does or nag him is a blessing.

  For you, it’s a bit of a hassle… because he keeps disappearing! Not in an alarming way, because you find him again in the most secluded, quiet spots you would never even think of. Under your laundry, in an empty box that Kaveh hadn’t put away after getting a delivery, and even under the desk in the study—Kaveh accidentally kicked him and got a feisty scratch on his ankle. He learned his lesson. 

  He follows you around and—though he let you pick him up the first time—doesn’t let you carry him around, preferring to walk on his own… and wander off to explore nooks and crannies he has never been able to see, but he always shows up again before you reach your destination. 

  He has also claimed your pillow as his own and refuses to let you use it, loafing on top of it exactly when you thought you could get there before him. Which… in hindsight is fine, you’re not opposed to using his pillow, it smells like him after all. 

  You decided to test how much of a cat he really is, whether it’s appearance alone or instinctual as well and bought a cat toy with a whisker on the end as well as a small bell below it. You expected him to perk up and try to whack or catch it as soon as you wriggled it beside him… but his grey furred ears just lowered in annoyance and he hopped off the kitchen counter, it seems like having even more sensitive ears in this state makes his dislike for uncomfortable noises more intense. 

  He forgave you when you spent ten minutes scratching the itchy spot behind his ears after tracking him down. A small, rumbling purr left his chest as you moved your hand to scratch under his chin—he was, however, more curious about this instinctual reaction and demanded you continue after you drew your hand back.     Despite it being very much an unspoken rule between the two of you that neither of you should be disturbed ‘needlessly’ when reading or working at home, when you borrowed a few books from the Akademiya to try and figure out how to turn your partner back to normal, Alhaitham decided it would be very reasonable for him to lay down over your book… which you are very much trying to read.

  But when you ask him what he needs, he just blinks at you three times, very slowly. You’ll likely never be able to crack that brain of his, even in a form that is somehow far more expressive.

Arataki Itto ;

It’s difficult enough to keep track of him—and keep him out of trouble—on a normal day… now? You took your eyes off him for a second, and he’s gone. Shinobu split up with you to cover more ground while the rest of the gang scoured the streets of Inazuma City, at least as much as they could.

  You peek between baskets, crates and stalls, walk through tight alleys and even squint into a few windows… nothing!

  You had been very close to giving up and returning back to the meeting point by the bridge… until you heard a very distressed, very loud meowing. Following the sound, you come to a tree stretching over the gardens of a teahouse. What looks to be the owner of it stands below the tree with a basket, trying to ask Itto—stuck up on a wobbling branch—to jump into it.

  Exasperation is one way to describe what you feel as you approach the old lady, you put your hands on your hips and Itto notices you immediately. His meowing turns from frantic and panicked… to a sheepish pleading. Every movement he makes causes the branch to sway and wobble, and it looks like it could easily bend and break—and you don’t want to cause any trouble for the teahouse owner. “Itto, come on, hop down.”

  He meows and shakes his head, white fur swishing dramatically. 

  A sigh leaves you as you step closer and hold your arms open. “I’ll catch you, trust me,” you encourage him… and he finally relents, with wobbling paws, he leaps from the branch—fur shining in the sun as he practically flies in the air towards your open arms… and lands on your head. He panics and tries to adjust and not fall off, and you try to pry him away from your face as his belly nearly suffocates you—it’s a scene from a comedic play.

  Shinobu is glad for her mask, because when you return with Itto under your arm you have scratches on your face and forehead, and Itto is whining and meowing sorrowfully. 

  He spends the entire evening licking your ‘wounds’, dragging his coarse cat tongue over every spot so often that the licking starts to become more painful than the scratches themselves. But you let him, it makes him feel much better than you—and you don’t particularly need comfort, but if he doesn’t get it, he will whine all night. 

  So you let him knead your thighs and stomach even as his claws prick through your clothes and you make sure to pet him and stroke his fur when he snuggles against you… and then you wake up in the middle of the night, suffocating with his furred belly against your face when the lies on top of you.

Baizhu ;

You’re very happy that Baizhu is catching a break—something you often try to convince him to do—despite the strange way of being forced into it… however, it’s very difficult to focus on running the pharmacy in his place by yourself while also trying to make sure he doesn’t roll off the shelf he’s napping on… especially because Changsheng wriggles in her sleep and keeps nudging him closer to the edge.

  You decide it’s easier if you have them sleeping on separate surfaces and reach up to pick up your pliant partner-turned-cat. He effectively falls into your arms and blinks lazily, slightly confused by the sudden transport. “Just moving you so you don’t hit your head,” you dodge around Qiqi as she runs past you with an armful of jars and set Baizhu down on the counter, his tail sways lazily and he immediately flops on his side as a beam of sunlight sneaks through the window and directly onto his fur.

  Every time a customer comes by—with approval—they give Baizhu a small pet or scratch before leaving, as if paying tribute to the good doctor. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  Unfortunately, you’re not fit to take Baizhu’s place for consultations, and thus they all get delayed—which was a hell of a lot of work to contact everyone and change scheduling—until Baizhu is back to normal. The usual hours of consultation in the morning are therefore replaced with longer opening hours of the pharmacy and by pulling some strings, an increased stock of rarer products at a discounted price. 

  Changsheng does not let poor Baizhu catch a break, she wiggles her tail and swipes it in front of his paws, and unable to control the feline instincts harbouring his body—Baizhu chases after her tail like a kitten playing with a toy. He whacks at it and tries to capture it, but the white snake is far quicker than even you expected her to be as a sudden game of cat and mouse (snake) takes over your living room.

 The feline form, however, doesn’t come with free stamina—and Baizhu is not in good shape. He flops down on the carpet, exhausted from the play even as only seven minutes have passed. You feel a bit bad and scoop him up for some cuddling, which seems to be just the remedy he needed. 

  Baizhu is very careful around the clinic, he doesn’t knock anything over—even though he REALLY wants to sometimes, and is mindful of not getting fur or saliva on anything that could potentially be consumed by anyone with allergies. Changsheng has taken to wrapping herself around your shoulders instead, and though you’re used to her, it’s a little annoying to get a comment on every little thing you do. 

  But at the end of the day, Baizhu curls up next to you and you wake with him lying over your chest, belly to the skies and paws in the air, comfortable and content. Though you will always prefer him in his normal state, he is very cute like this.

Cyno ;

You look around the large front hall of the House of Daena, panting slightly as you try to catch your breath… that damn Cyno! Making you chase him across the entire city! 

  You spot some pawprints and squint as you look around… he’s not bringing all that dirt into the house—you were just going to rinse him a bit, but he’s run off! You finally spot dark and creamy coloured fur… perched up high on a massive decorative piece of the wall. He looks down at you with a swaying tail, completely at ease knowing that you won’t be able to catch him all the way up there.

  You almost consider inquiring about one of those massive ladders the library has to reach the high shelves, it might be long enough…

  But very well, he wins this round. 

  Once he turned into a cat, you were very excited about petting him, rubbing his ears and stroking his tail—but he’s not having any of it. Sometimes, you wonder if someone stuck a firework in his ass and lit it up, because the bouts of zoomies he gets is so frequent you wondered if there was something wrong—but you couldn’t catch him to take to a vet either! 

  After the first few days, Cyno seems to calm down… a little. He still prefers to survey the area (your living room) from above (your bookshelf) and watch you go about your day. It’s quite cute how his perked ears twitch every time you make a noise, as if he’s completely focused on what you’re doing.

  You soon find out after stepping a bit too close to the bookshelf that he might have just been waiting to strike, because he leaps onto your head as soon as you’re in range. 

  The only reason you know he’s fully conscious in that furred head is because while you were cleaning up after dinner, you spotted him sitting next to a cup of tea that was half-filled. You tense as you watch his paw raise to knock it off. “Cyno! Don’t,” you try to sound scolding.

  He looks up at you, he lowers his paw… then raises it again, making you glare at him. He lowers it again, turns away… you turn back to wiping the dishes and look over your shoulders after a few seconds—his paw is raised again!

  This back and forth continued until he finally knocked it over.

  And then he has the audacity during the next day’s dinner to sound like he has never been fed in his life while you’re trying to eat in peace. Meowing at you so loudly one would think he was terribly injured, eyes wide and mouth open. You hope your neighbours don’t think you’re trying to starve him, or treat him horribly.

Dainsleif ;

He’s not happy about it, he has things to do—places to be and investigations to make. Thankfully you’re familiar with where you were going next… but Dainsleif is very limited in what he can do. You decide to give him the task of scouting and sneaking around, something he’s used to doing anyway… but he finds that it’s much more effective to do so as a cat. His footsteps are completely silent and his senses are much sharper.

  Though, he had an instinctual need to swat at a glowing orb that you found in a strange vault half-buried in a cave in Fontaine before he could stop himself—which closed the two of you inside the vault. Thankfully he is now small enough that he could slip out between the bars and unlock it from the other side.

  It is quite cute how his ears flattened as you walked out, as if he was sorry. Though he seemed okay after you scratched behind his ears and assured him it was okay, he was here to help you out after all! His tail swayed in satisfaction to your assurance.

  You start to set down camp for the night, having just one pair of hands makes it a bit more of a lengthy process, and Dainsleif can only sit and watch as you put it together. He’s usually quite distant, even in a relationship—but as you straighten from squatting to fit something down, you feel something press against your leg and see him rubbing his furry cheek against you, then walking around your legs, tail trailing behind.

  He’s usually quite wary and alert, even during the night when you try and convince him to sleep—and it’s no different now. He sits poised and ready… for what? He’s a cat. But you appreciate the effort. 

  Surprisingly, he’s very active at grooming himself, the two of you usually have to bathe often anyway as you frequent dusty caves and muddy backwaters, but every time you make a stop, he sits down and starts licking his fur—at first you wondered if he was frustrated by something or had hurt himself, but as you picked him up to examine for any injuries or strange patches, he just blinked at you, tongue still half-hanging out.

  Dainsleif is rather laid-back when it comes to your relationship, there are times where you want to stay in a larger city for a few days or weeks in between travels, to have a soft bed and four walls around you—which Dainsleif doesn’t mind, there are places he wants to look into where he’d prefer you are safe elsewhere. He knows where you will be and will stop by to ask if you’re ready to continue days or even sometimes a few weeks later, to which you—recharged and rejuvenated—jump at the chance to follow him out of the city.

  But now, as a cat, he doesn’t leave your side for a minute—not even when you need to use nature’s bathroom. You went into a small village in Sumeru when passing through and a vendor was particularly pressing about selling you some type of perfume that you had shown brief interest in—Dainsleif had enough of you being pestered and whacked his paw at the man’s leg, hissing. He would usually be more subtle about guiding you away, but he doesn’t have the presence he usually does as he is now, so he must utilise the aggressiveness given to him in feline form. You take the chance to scoop him up and hurry away before the vendor can get upset, petting between his ears and thanking him for the help—he rubs his cheek against yours. He’s surprisingly more affectionate like this as well.

Diluc ;

Your nose itches… you try to hold back—achoo!!

  Diluc jumps, claws scuttling against the ground and he leaps from his resting spot and hops down to the floor. You sniffle and shake your head. “Sorry, it’s not your fault,” you stand from his chair and round the table to squat down next to him, reaching a hand out. “Did I startle you?”

  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound, fur red as freshly bloomed roses. Diluc bumps his snout into your palm and huffs into it, you turn your hand and pet along his back. “Aaah… you’re so cute~ so soft,” you near coo as you scratch behind his ears—

  Diluc shakes himself and ducks under your hand to walk past you—how dare you baby-talk him?! He’s not an actual cat! The scritches felt too nice, and his ears flicked when you cooed at him—it’s embarrassing…

  He sits down by the door, tail swaying lazily as a small meow leaves him. Let me out. 

  You pout, how can you not convey how cute he is? You want to rub his cheeks. But fine, you  walk over and open the door for him to slip out of. 

  Diluc likes the lounge around the fireplace in the estate, there’s not much work he can do  while you try to figure out how to turn him back—preferably without alerting his brother or any of the knights… or just anyone in general. Unfortunately, he can’t hide it from the staff of the Winery as he is a spitting image of himself in cat form, and you’ve caught more than three people trying to feed him expensive cheeses. 

  It’s only in the recent days that you’ve convinced him to settle down and use the time to rest and nap as much as he can, but Diluc was extremely restless at first, you had to trap him inside a room and trick him into lying down with you.

  One day, Jean came by looking for him, and you had to think fast to come up with an excuse while he had just leapt under the sofa to hide. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to need him urgently, so she just left a message behind and went back to her day.

  You fell asleep in Diluc’s study, trying to keep up with his paperwork—Adeline offered to help you, she’s very familiar with his work, and it’s not like it’s been a long time since he wasn’t there to do it… but you wanted to help, and as the sun sank below the horizon, you laid down on the sofa in his study next to a tall bookcase—only closing your eyes was enough to pull you into deep sleep.

  Diluc hops onto the sofa next to you, he carefully walks over your thighs and settles on the armrest where your head is. His fluffy tail sways and strokes your chin and nose—nearly waking you as you almost sneeze, you don’t have to work so hard for him, he knows you want to help. He wishes he could tell you, and he will, when he’s back to normal. For now, he rests alongside you, head leaning against the top of yours and tail tucked against your neck.

Kaedehara Kazuha ;

Kazuha is a very chill cat, he doesn’t get into trouble, he doesn’t cough hairballs on the floor and he doesn’t knock things over.

  (Instead of coughing hairballs on the floor he swats them off-deck with his paws, Beidou caught him doing it once).

  There’s not much trouble to get into on the ocean, and he’s rather good at keeping out of trouble overall on land, sticking by his side is a sureway to a boring day of exploration or lounging around—which is your perfect type of day.

  You help him into your bag as the Crux ‘boards’ by Liyue Harbour (it stops a bit away and tucked by a cliffside to avoid attention) and you make sure he doesn’t accidentally fall into the ocean as a few crewmates row to land. You’re stopping for a few days, so you make sure to use the time to relax and take in landside air and wander around the expansive Harbour. 

  Kazuha likes to take life at a slower pace, and thus your walk to the Harbour took longer than you expected… as you thought Kazuha was doing his normal meditation on a warm, sun-kissed rock along the road…

  But he was asleep, sitting up and enjoying the sun. It took you thirty minutes to realise—a sitting cat with its eyes closed and a sleeping cat in a sitting position is the exact same.

  He very much likes to people-watch, but in this cat form, he seems even more engaged—he can hear sounds more clearly and he seems even more perceptive than usual. Watching a tea maker brew a cup on a teahouse table you had sat by to rest and ordered some snacks. He sniffs at the tea as it’s placed in front of you—he’s perched comfortably on your lap, you’re surprised the teahouse even allows him inside—and seems to appreciate the detail he gets from this new perspective, af if it smells different in this form.

  He tries to taste it and your food, but you have to block his snout with your hand, you’re not sure if the food you were having would give him a stomach ache or not. 

On a walk on the outskirts of the city, you look back and see Kazuha carrying a stick in his mouth…?

  He’s not a dog, so you’re not entirely sure why he’s doing it, maybe cats do that too? The dogs that hang around the bridge leading to the southeast outside of Liyue Harbour try to approach him with the stick, thinking he was playing, but he hops into a tree to keep it to himself. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but he seems to be having fun.

  Kazuha wanders off oftentimes, just in his normal, usual body… so you’re not sure why you’re surprised when you suddenly find him missing from your side—perhaps it’s because he’s a cat and you’re unsure if he can defend himself as well in that form, but you hurry to look for him.

  You practically run in circles until you find him pressing his paw to a brown, crusty leaf… again and again, as if listening to the crunch of it in a rhythm. You sigh and scoop him up into your arms. “Don’t wander off like this,” you scold and poke his nose. Kazuha sneezes from the poke, but blinks up at you and nods his little furry head.

Kaeya ;

Unbothered, in his element. Kaeya sleeps in your windowsill and bathes in the sunlight all day while you scratch your head over how this could’ve happened. You try to leave for work and he practically screeches at the door, likely pleading you not to leave—he does that normally as well, except without the loud meowing. 

  Kaeya finds appreciation in the flexibility and grace that comes with this new body, he easily leaps up on shelves and dives under the sofa, he chases flakes of dust and seems to be having quite a good time—perhaps it’s because he has no responsibilities in this form, he can’t go to work like this and has no control over it. And the loss of control is strangely freeing. 

  You scoop him up into your arms and his tail swishes happily, he grabs his claws into your shirt and purrs as you rub his ears, happy and content with the additional affection. He loves all affection he gets from you no matter what form it takes, and being a cat has given him the opportunity to be pampered in ways he never could experience as a human. 

  He does need his free time as well and he uses it well while you’re out of the house—though you were very optimistic to think that closing the windows would keep him contained, Kaeya easily flips the handles and slips out of your home. He enjoys the attention he gets from any passersby, but is careful not to be too affectionate and get picked up by someone who thinks he’s a stray. 

  His usual guarded front lowers in this form, he feels like he could slip out of any situation—and he doesn’t have to be careful with his words or actions. No one expects a cat to have alternative intentions. 

  He jumps up in surprise as he hears footsteps rapidly approaching—he had fallen asleep on a ledge and the sun was already down. Kaeya blinks as you pick him up, breath heaving. “There you are, I’ve looked everywhere for you! I thought something happened when I couldn’t find you around the plaza,” you sigh a breath of relief and practically crush him to your chest. Kaeya wriggles a little but gives up and nuzzles into you, pushing his forehead into your cheek. 

  After a number of days, Kaeya gets bored, as fun as lounging around and being pampered it… he misses real food, and dragging you away from your work to have lunch—and holding you properly, he can only lay on top of you like this, which doesn’t exactly feel like holding.

  And Kaeya being restless… he gets whiny. 

  He would usually be more subtle, but now that he feels the rush of freedom his feline form gives him, he uses it to protest by loafing on your clothes after you fold them to put away, laying over your lap when you need to get up—even though he’s not really a cat… kind of, you still get the same feeling of not wanting to move him off no matter how much space he’s taking.

  But that’s okay, because he just has to slow blink at you and nuzzle into your hand and you forgive him, how could you not?

Kamisato Ayato ;

Ayato is an unreasonably pretty cat. His fur is soft and silky, he has this… smug kitty-smile at all times, and it makes you want to pinch his ears. He sits on your lap and peeks onto the low table inside his study as you go through paperwork. Just because he’s become a cat doesn’t mean his workload just miraculously lessens. 

  Thankfully, after a few days of trying to juggle his work—how does he do it?!—even with him by your side, albeit in a form that can’t properly communicate… Ayaka decides to lend a hand, she takes it upon herself to attend meetings and represent the clan and Commission in Ayato’s stead. Thankfully no one has questioned where he is yet.

  Or why there is a suspiciously similar cat trotting around the estate in his place. 

  You fish into a bush in the courtyard gardens, hand feeling around—until you find fur and yoink it up. Ayato blinks at you, tail swishing as he has a piece of grilled fish in his mouth that he stole from the kitchens. “You know… you can have all the fish you want—you don’t have to steal it,” you say as you lift him into your arms.

  His ears flick as you talk, but he eats the fish happily regardless. You shake your head in mild exasperation. Looks like he’s using the opportunity to engage in… more mischief than usual. Perhaps a different kind. 

  Ayato likes to use his newfound stealth and agility to his advantage… to torment you.

  You put away some laundry and turned to a shelf to fetch something—only to come face to face with Ayato’s cat-face, making you jump as he meows happily—as if happy to see you! He knows he’s just trying to startle you!

  He winds around your feet when you walk around the estate and purrs happily when you squint at him.

  Ayato knows the limits, he stops before you can lock him inside a room for the remainder of the day. His fur is so soft as you pet him and a rumbling purr leaves him, he knows it’s silly—he’s not really a cat, at least, hopefully not for long. But you keep petting and stroking him while he does. 

  He takes good care of himself on normal days, and as a cat, it’s no different—he grooms himself meticulously, though finds it rather embarrassing if you’re looking, so he tries to do it out of sight… it's very instinctual, but he also likes to feel clean and groomed. 

  You once passed the great hall and saw Thoma wriggling a toy with a bundle of feathers on it while Ayato chased it… it was pretty cute to watch, but you hurried along before either of them could notice you. 

  He hogs the futon, you don’t want to push him to the side and get pushed to the edge of the mattress yourself. Ayato doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

Kaveh ;

Distressed, not having fun, he wants to go home.

  A series of meows in varying states of distress and confusion follow behind you as you walk, you stop and turn around, peering down at the strange cat that’s been following you around since you left the Akademiya. You were about to ask what he wants… but as you squint at the cat… doesn’t it look familiar?

  Kaveh doesn’t stop when you do, he raises on his hind legs by your feet and sinks his claws into your pants, a shrill, distressed meow leaves him.

  You reach down and pick him up, holding under his front legs as you inspect him… hm, golden fur with tints of a darker, sandy brown… those big red eyes.

  “... Kaveh?” you must be crazy, there’s no way your partner is a cat, and followed you around without you realising, but you know those eyes very well. It’s him.

  Alhaitham just stares at you like you grew three additional heads, he looks at Kaveh in your arms and then back at you. “... it looks like him, but that’s not proof enough—have you asked him to write his name?”

  You look at Kaveh and he tilts his small head to look up at you. Write his name…? He doesn’t exactly have thumbs… but Alhaitham has a good point. What if it’s just a very persistent cat? 

  Then again… where would Kaveh be? He’s usually home by this time.

  Alhaitham fetches a pen and some parchment and you put Kaveh down on the table. He tries to use his paws at first but just spills ink all over the place—but as he grabs the pen with his mouth and clumsily scribbles his signature, Alhaitham just hums while you scoop Kaveh up again, holding him up. “It is you! What happened to you, Kaveh?”

  Of course, he can’t give a proper answer, he wriggles his paws around and meows in a long dialogue—but it’s entirely incomprehensible. 

  While you and Alhaitham try to figure out how to get him back, Kaveh tries to adjust to his… predicament. He doesn’t do it with any grace, though… his leaps and jumps across furniture are miscalculated and he falls to the ground or hits his head more often than you can count.

  But your worried petting and rubbing the aching area makes him purr and nuzzle into your arms.

  He does hate the heightened senses, he jumps at the smallest noise and scuttles across the room if anything startles him—and he gets startled very easily like this.

Neuvillette ;

You call his name, looking around his office… you scratch your head, he can’t have gone far, you just left to fetch some tea for a few minutes. It’s not like he can open the door or window and slip out—why would he anyway?

  You hear a very… pathetic meow, from next to you—but there’s nothing there, just a sofa. You hear it again—under the sofa…?

  Ducking down, you see that Neuvillette is stuck, he seems to have been trying to squeeze himself under the sofa, and rounding the furniture, you see his hind legs and tail flat on the floor… it’s a bit amusing. “There, I got you,” you say soothingly as you lift the sofa up a little so he can back out. Neuvillette stands up and shakes his body.

  You squat down and smile. “How’d you get stuck under there?” you hold out your hand and he presses his head into your palm, nuzzling against your skin for comfort as you turn your hand to scratch and pet him.

  He’s not very good at resisting the instincts and temptations that come with this form—you’re unsure why he seems to struggle so much, but you try to help him as much as you can, and not laugh.

  You saw him chase a shadow, there is an ornament on the raised blinds that hang above the large window in his office. It's attached to the strings that lower and raise them and it sways slightly—casting a shadow across the floor.

  Another time he was grooming his fur and struggling, he has a thick, long coat and had to lean far back to reach the end of his fur as his tongue dragged along the hairs… causing him to roll backwards off the arm of the couch and into the pile of pillows.

  Innocent, small things that make you smile, but you’re careful that he doesn’t see it.

  He loafs over a stack of court documents as you organise his desk—might as well use the opportunity to clean up while he won’t be making a mess. He doesn’t seem satisfied with his place on the desk and stands… and spots a box on the ground, it’s stacked halfway with old documents to be taken to storage… but it also looks like the perfect spot to rest. He hops down from the desk and circles a few times on the papers to get comfortable. He wriggles a little before sitting down.

  It takes him a minute to realise that he was kneading into the paper when he hears the sound of it tearing under his claws in an instinctual need to make the bottom of the box comfortable. 

  Safe to say, he was mortified to have destroyed the top four documents, but thankfully they weren’t shredded and you managed to salvage them with some memory of what had occurred as well as piecing them together.

Tartaglia ;

You look towards the window above the kitchen counter, cold air brushes into the house as Childe enters through it—with a mouse in his mouth.

  You leap up and push the book in your hand against his face and push him straight back outside. “No! Absolutely not! Leave it outside, not in the house!!” You close the window behind him and sigh in relief, brushing stray snow into the sink. When you look up again, He’s sitting there, big eyes and ears flat against his head… but no mouse.

  Sighing, you open the window a smidge so that he can step inside, where he shakes himself and tosses flakes of melting snow all over. 

  Childe sits down, tail swaying—as if waiting for something.

  You set your haps on your hips. “What?”

  “Mrrow…” he wriggles his head, he wants a pat. 

  … fine, just because he took the mouse outside because you ‘asked’, you raise your hand to stroke his head and he tilts it to lick your palm—but you pull back. “No, you just had a wild animal in your mouth, wash your mouth!”

  What is this?? He feels like a criminal, all he did was bring you a prize… to be fair, he realised how silly it was to bring you a dead animal when you leapt up to push him back out, but it felt completely natural up until that point!

  He whines and meows for forgiveness for the rest of the night, and you do eventually ‘forgive’ him and let Chile lounge around on your lap while you pet him and continue reading.

�� He picks fights with swaying curtains, chases your broom when you’re cleaning and even whacked your cup of coffee off the dinner table—spilling it everywhere. He’s a nightmare in this form, because no matter the scolding, he just stares at you with excited, large eyes and a swaying tail.

  Nothing you say gets through his head. In one ear and out the other. 

  He does not give up either, if he wants affection, he will get it one way or the other, even if he has to whine and meow endlessly, follow you around—fake a limp! You shake him a bit after he worried you and you almost went out in the middle of the evening through the snow to take him to a vet when he just wanted scritches. 

  In all fairness… this is just typical behaviour, but now he has the kitten eyes to break your self control and composure within seconds. 

Thoma ;

He tries to do his job even in cat form, using his tail to sweep, he even takes his duster into his mouth and tries to sweep on surfaces he’d usually need ladders to reach, and now he can just leap to them.

  But he also has a problem…

  He has an instinctual need to create a mess, knock things over or sit on things—when he catches himself in an act of pushing Ayaka’s discarded tea off a table, he nearly leaps away to stop himself. 

  Thankfully, everyone around him doesn't mind—and it’s a bit relieving to see that Thoma retains a sense of himself. He finds time where he would usually go into town to instead nap—and the Kamisato estate has perfect napping spots. He lies sprawled across the engawa surrounding the eastern part of the estate near the back gardens, and lets the warm beams of the sun warm his belly—only to shoot up in surprise when he hears footsteps, embarrassed to be caught lounging around. 

  Ayato sometimes plucks him away to keep on his lap for hours while he sorts through paperwork, petting and scratching behind his ears while his other hand signs documents. Thoma gets a bit restless just loafing on his lord’s lap and meows in relief when you come along to fetch him. 

  Ayaka leapt at the opportunity to sew a few accessories for him, guised under the excuse of “practise for smaller bodies” and Thoma ends up with half a wardrobe by the end of the week. 

  But he prefers to be around you, you don’t trap him on your lap (even though Ayato gives very good scritches) or make him model for three hours (even though Ayaka gave him snacks). As you work around the estate, he gets tired—curse this cat body and it’s perpetual need for napping!—and you tuck him gently into your eri*. Thoma lays nestled against your chest warmly, his body light and still as you continue your work. 

  The gardens of the Kamisato estate is a disaster zone, and after the first few days, thoma knows to avoid it. 

  He had strolled past, early in his transformation—and been startled by his own reflection in the pond he passed by, the fish swimming away in a hurry as he ran across the gardens in surprise. A second time, he had spent twelve minutes chasing a butterfly while Ayato watched with a signature smile… he will likely not let him forget it. 

  Thankfully, he’s not needed much in the gardens, and he sits perched atop a high shelf in the kitchens, his tail sways as he leans forward… very much ready to leap and steal some food—before you pluck him up and raise an eyebrow.

  His ears flatten in realisation, but you rub his cheeks and tuck him back into your clothes—grabbing some leftover pears from the dessert the kitchens were making, letting him munch on it while you get back to work. 

Venti  ;

You didn’t think Venti could become even more of an airhead on a typical day as he does when he becomes a cat. He gets distracted by the smallest things and wanders off—leading to a wild goose chase where you have to ask around for a small darkly coloured cat with blue highlights on its ears and tail—a very distinct cat!—and being pointed in every direction possible.

  Only to discover him napping in a crate full of apples in an alley you walked past at least six times just in the last fifteen minutes. 

  He is also very vocal, Venti says anything that comes to his mind… which is unfortunately nothing but meowing nonsense to your ears, but you nod along as if you understand, having a halfway conversation with the lively cat. 

  Somehow, he very much likes to play and nap like he’s being paid to do it at the same time. In one moment, he’s swatting at your clothes and trying to get to play with your fingers—which he accidentally bites and scratches in his excitement, quickly rectifying it with some licks and nuzzles—and the next, he’s passed out cold in a box or on a shelf for five hours.

  He doesn’t seem embarrassed by these new catlike instincts, such as the need to groom himself—he even starts grooming you halfway through his coat, you’re sure your skin is very much clean by the time he finally turns back to himself. 

  Unlike normal cats, who move and settle down elsewhere when the person under them gets up… Venti is not happy about being disturbed nor that you’re trying to get up, he whines and kneads on your clothes to try and get you to stay a little bit longer, giving you the best big kitten eyes he can muster.

  And damn him, it works. He knows what he’s doing. 

  You had been looking for him one morning, thinking he just wandered off again and you’d find him napping in some corner of the city… when Diluc approaches you with a sheepish looking Venti-cat, holding him by the scruff of his neck. “This yours?”

  Diluc doesn’t even seem surprised that the bard is a cat. At least he isn’t an allergy risk when he’s human-like and trying to get into his wares. 

Wanderer ;

He is very aware of himself, he knows he looks stupid (cute) and that everything he does will be looked at through the lens of a typical cat and not someone stuck in its body.

  And thus, he does all he can to be as eerie and unnatural a cat as he can be.

  He doesn’t make a single sound, no meowing, no purring, nothing. He doesn’t walk like a cat—thankfully he doesn’t walk on two legs—nor does he exhibit any of their typical behaviours.

  At least, that was the plan. 

  Every single time Wanderer catches himself doing anything that could be considered “cat-like”, such as grooming himself, chasing a loose string, or gods forbid… kneading—he will immediately stop and compose himself again.

  As opposed to some others, he absolutely hates the loss of control that follows becoming a cat. 

  He can’t write properly, he can’t communicate—and if he tries, no one but you and perhaps Nahida takes him seriously—he’s always sleepy and aware at strange times… he hates it! 

  And once when he was just trying to have some grapes for snacks—you suddenly leapt towards him to stop him, taking the bowl off the table with a relieved huff when you noticed he hadn’t swallowed any of it… after you pried the grape out of his mouth. At his hissing, you explained that cats can’t have grapes. 

  He gave you the cold fur-shoulder for at least two days. 

  You brought him out one time to get some fresh air—since he’s fully aware of himself, he shouldn’t run off and get lost, or into a dangerous situation like an indoor cat might. But when you gave some other cats around the streets of Sumeru attention, he quickly meowed in protest and whacked the other cats away. 

  It’s a bit cute… he doesn’t normally act so forthcoming, and as he bumps his head into your knee afterwards, you rub his cheeks and pinch his ears despite further protest. How cute!

Wriothesley ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Wriothesley was just a “cat”. He’s huge*. 

  You put a bowl in front of him, filled with foods that are okay for cats to eat but also not… gross, as Wriothesley is very much aware in that cat-head of his. “C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with this, I even tasted it—it’s a bit bland ‘cause we can’t put any seasoning, but it’s food.”

  He leans down, and for a second you think that he’s going to eat it—but as his whiskers brush against the sides of the bowl, he lifts his head abruptly and swats at the bowl, clattering it to the ground—he didn’t mean to hit it at all, but also not this hard. 

  You scratch your head, you just can’t figure out why he won’t eat—you’ve tried everything!

  It took you several hours of back and forth questions and meowing to realise that it was the shape of the bowl that was the problem and not the food itself.

  On another day, you reach down to pet his soft, thick fur—only to get a static shock, it zaps your fingers and both of you jump back. You always have to be careful with petting him, as there’s always a risk of getting zapped at any time. Worst part is, it’s not even every time! It catches you off guard!

  He likes to climb and jump on the pipes that web around the fortress, getting into places he’s never even considered before—and sometimes you look around for him for hours before giving up… only to suddenly be leapt on from above by a nine kilogram heavy cat half your size, knocking you over.

  Siegwinne noticed that he had been brooding lately, he had been stuck as a cat for five days now and it was beginning to frustrate him. So she decided to soak a small blanket in tea mixed with catnip—after it was dry and she rubbed some more on it, she laid it out in his office…

  You watched him for a good long while as he rubbed against it, meowed and rolled on the blanket. It was unbearably adorable, but you eventually pulled him away after a while—worrying it might be too much.

  He’s so large that it’s almost like sleeping with a person, just a very furry one. He lies halfway over you and as you wake in the morning—he refuses to get up. You give in and relax in bed for a while… until he starts kneading your cheeks, leaving small scratches with his big paws and claws. You don’t stop him—it doesn’t hurt, he looks so focused, like he’s trying to squeeze something out of your cheeks. 

Xiao ;

He meows and wriggles in your arms, but you try your best to hold him until you reach the top of the inn—he swats at you and you finally let him go when you enter his usual reserved room. Despite being paws up when you let go of him, Xiao lands perfectly and immediately hops up to the highest vantage point in the room he could reach. 

  You don’t get him down by yourself, he only comes down willingly after a few hours when he’s calmed down and adjusted a bit to this form. You’re not entirely sure what happened, you had just been exploring a cave that was strangely entwined with a temple of sorts, when a bright light appeared behind you, and Xiao—who had been accompanying you—was suddenly a cat. A very small cat. 

  He loafs on the windowsill in the night, his tail wrapped around his paws as he peers towards the sky—at the slightest noise, his ears flicker towards it and he squints at the roads below that pass and surround the large inn. 

  He is unbothered. Firm. Stoic.

  … after getting wet under a pouring rain that persisted all day, he pretends not to be bothered by his wet fur and the uncomfortable existence he leads under this blanket of wet fur…

  But he can only pretend for so long. You turn away and pretend to busy yourself to allow him some privacy to reluctantly lick along his fur and smooth it down, trying to clean or groom it in a way that makes it less sloppy. 

  He hates it, this weird satisfaction that comes with this very primal instinct, and yet, he does still feel the satisfaction.

  Xiao is difficult to read on an average day, he’s very used to controlling his emotions and maintaining a front that’s difficult to get past.

  But as a cat… he’s an open book, he approaches you with a curled tail, he slow blinks at you when you drag your fingers through his fur as he loafs on the windowsill. 

  But he does. Not. Meow. 

  Except for that time you hauled his ass back to the inn… and when Zhongli makes a sudden appearance, he hops from his perched position and snakes around the former Archon’s legs, purring and meowing as he’s being petted and spoken to. He doesn’t notice his own behaviour…

  Not until the following night after Zhongli leaves, and Xiao is mortified that he behaved like an affection-depraved cat in front of Morax.

  Thankfully you sliding a comb through his fur and untangling some knots from the day distracts and calms him down in the evening.

Zhongli ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Zhongli was actually aware he was a cat, he follows you around, sits on a bench and licks his paw to clean it while you shop for groceries… he chases anything shiny that you come across and swats at it with his paws, leaps at it and tries to capture it—usually rocks or mora people drop. Maybe he likes the mineral, maybe it’s the shine. You can’t really know.

  You try to give him some nice food, cut down nicely so he won’t accidentally choke on it… but he won’t eat it, not unless you plate it properly…? At least, when you rearranged it better and separated the meats from the greens, he seemed to like it more. Maybe he thought you were treating him a bit too much like a pet rather than a partner that’s unfortunately become a cat for a (hopefully) limited time.

  After a long day of… not doing much, Zhongli realised he had left scratches on the sides of some furniture and he tries to hide or cover them up for the time being, dragging a blanket over the arm of a divan in the living room… hopefully you won’t discover them and he can fix it after he’s back to normal before you notice.

  You do notice that he very much prefers specific textures, he doesn’t like walking on the hardwood floor of your home and instead prefers to lie down or sit on blankets or the silken sheets in your shared bedroom. 

  Despite the strange predicament, Zhongli is very calm, he’s both patient and has a good sense—if this was a dangerous curse or spell that was difficult to reverse, he would likely sense it. Instead, he considers using this time to show and receive affection in a way you haven’t been able to before. 

  He often sits by your legs or thighs, he winds around them and rubs his furry cheeks along your clothes and pretty much anywhere he can reach. Your legs when he’s winding around them, your hand when you reach out to pet him, your cheek when he stands on your chest when you’re trying to read in bed before sleeping. 

  He purrs and cuddles with you, laying in your arms or over your lap—he even hid in your bag once when you went out for the day, and you discovered it too late to take him back home (you did wonder why your bag felt heavier than usual) and thus, he has the pleasure of accompanying you to your work—something he doesn’t often get the excuse or time to do. 

  Thankfully, Hu Tao didn’t question it when you came to her and said that Zhongli couldn’t come to work for a few days (hopefully just a few days). If anything, she sighed in relief and said something about him finally using his paid time off and sick days. Then thanks you for taking him out of commission??? 

  You pour over some scrolls and papers to try and figure out how to turn Zhongli back, and he hops onto the desk in the study, nuzzling against your arm before sitting down, tail swaying as he joins you in searching for ways to bring him back to you in a more familiar form. Despite how cute he is like this. 

* eri is the collar-flap on the front of a kimono/yukata that crosses over the chest, he's tucked into it and lying on his back. if you know about the nioh cat clock scene, yeah.

* wriothesley is supposed to be a maine coon type of cat, just huge and heavy. but not wild cat huge.

[catsukkii]

hi!!! im new on here and ive been binge reading all of ur stuff 😭 im not sure if this is where you send reqs but if it is in begging for an older brother’s best friend trope w katsuki 🙏 i absolutely adore this trope and i js imagine katsuki pretending to be so annoying w picking you up or ‘babysitting you’ for his friend bur he secretly rlly likes it. thank u sm! <3

OMG HELLLOOO!! THANK YOU FOR BINGE READING MY STUFF!! this is where u send requests and I’m totally inlove with this idea you just opened my eyes. 2 POSTS IN 1 DAYYY?? I’m spoiling all 50 of my followers 🙏

Off-limits, Right? — katsuki bakugo

IN WHICH…katsuki was your older brothers bestfriend, you hated him, he hated you, I mean why else would he constantly tease you? so yeah, you guys hated eachother. right…?

Pairing; Katsuki bakugo x Afab!reader

Content contains; fem!reader, SUGGESTIVE! mdni, swearing, corny scenarios, katsuki uses ‘princess’ in a mocking way, reader is 19, katsuki is 21, and brother is 22, swearing.

Word count; smth over 1k

A/N; this was a wonderful request I’m sorry I couldn’t do it justice !! 😩 I hope ur happy with the result nonetheless!! <3

he was insufferable, he just couldn’t leave you alone. everytime he comes over to hang out with your brother, you avoid him and stay in your room at pretty much all costs; yet he always finds a way to still get under your nerves.

the stupid calls behind the door as they make their way to your brothers room,

“aww princess, you don’t miss me?” he yells behind the door, you can hear the cocky bastards smirk. you groan and just ignore him as he laughs with your brother. stupid boys.

it doesn’t stop there though, if you ever decide to come out of your room you better prayyyy hes not down there because he’s teasing you to absolutely no end.

“oh the beast has awoken I see?” he smirks and rests his elbows on the kitchen island, eyeing you up and down like you were a piece of meat. you roll your eyes and continue to open your fridge and get a drink.

“would you just shut up for once katsuki?” you bite back and he lets out an airy mocking laugh, putting his hands up in fake defense.

“easy there, just playin around sleeping beauty.” that stupid smirk never leaving his lips, you groan and grab your drink before descending up the stairs back to your room.

and you see, it would be a lot easier to avoid katsuki if him and your brother weren’t constantly in eachothers back pocket. It was frustrating, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone!

and then the worst possible thing happened.

“yoo, y/n.” your brothers voice speaks, tapping you on the shoulder, you tilt your head to look over your shoulder and hum a response. “okay don’t kill me but..memomanddadaregoingtoabarandkatsukihastobabysityou.” you stare at him blankly.

“okay what the actual fuck did you just say to me.” he takes in a deep breath and repeats himself slower. “me mom and dad are going to a bar and katsuki has to babysit you.” he has an anxious scrunch plastered on his face, prepared for you to blow up.

“what the HELL?” you slam the book you were reading closed, the sound echoed through the house. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter! I’m 19!” he sighs and attempts to calm you down.

“I know, i know, I agree! I tried to tell mom and dad that but I guess they just didn’t trust you…” you scoff at this and slouch in your seat with another loud groan rumbling past your lips.

“so they decide to have fucking katsuki babysit me? you know how much I hate him.” you glare up at him and he sighs for you.

“yeah I know..look it’s only for one night! I’m sure you’ll survive right?” you scoff at him and slam yourself up from the couch and reach your room, spending the rest of your time there before katsuki shows up.

‘ding dong’ you hear the doorbell and immediately plant your face in your pillow, mentally preparing for the night you’re about to have. you can hear him buttering up your parents, talking about how their ‘precious daughter’ is in wonderful hands. what a fucking joke. the minute everybody left, he sighs before yelling up the stairs.

“you gonna sit up in your room the whole time?” you can hear the cockiness dripping in his tone even through a whole staircase and your door. you sigh, bouncing off your bed and opening your door walking down the stairs with the least pleasant expression on your face.

“ah there’s the princess, wipe that look off your face. I’m not any happier about this.” you scoff and continue your walking down the stairs, reaching him at the bottom and glaring into his eyes. “yeah right.” you remark sarcastically and push past his shoulder and walk back to your spot on the couch. he sighs to himself and grouchily walks over to sit next to you, creating a respective distance.

“the tv remotes right here,” you toss it at him and he catches with no problems, gosh fucking loser has to be good at everything. “put whatever you want on, I don’t care.” you dismiss him and open your book again, deciding that’s the best way to drown him out.

“oh so the princess isn’t always cold hearted?” he bit his lip partially with a slight smirk, you couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze back onto your book and stutter out a ‘yeah whatever..’ he put on some creepy ass movie, you weren’t even watching it but the noises and jumpscares were kind of getting to you, you put the book down for one second and then got invested into the movie, katsuki took notice of this but decided to not say anything to scare you off just yet.

a certain jumpscare got to you, and you flinched with a high pitched ‘eek!’ he only laughed at you and looked at you with a faux mocking pout.

“aww princess you scared?” his pout turned into a smirk, and he licked his lips slightly. “s-shut up katsuki.” you roll your eyes and attempt to play it off before he just has to open his mouth again.

“cmon you want me to hold you so the monsters won’t get you?” he opens his arms and laughs when you immediately protest. “ew, katsuki! quit!” he nonetheless throws your ‘stupid’ book across the room and before you even have time to think he’s grabbing you by the shoulders and planting you on his lap.

“katsuki— eugh— let me go!” you whine trying to wiggle out of his grasp, he sighs before speaking, “keep movin like that on me and you’re definitely not going.” you gasp at his comment and hit him on the arm.

“gross katsuki!” he just laughs and you eventually accept your fate on his lap, trying to avoid the fact you’re on your older brothers bestfriends lap. You continue on with the movie, eventually relaxing into katsukis hold when another jumpscare causes you to jump in his hold, he mocks you with a laugh and suddenly his mouth is very close to your ear, you can feel his hot breath trickling down your neck and it causes you to stiffen. “you scared, princess?” he whispers deeply into your ear, you try to shake off the flustered feeling and shake your head no.

“are you sure? maybe this will help take your mind off things.” and before you can even think to protest, your being spinned around on his lap, face to face with him. your legs were straddling either side of his now and he rests his hand on your lower back, pushing you closer to him.

“katsuki— mm!” you were cut off to him pressing a kiss to your lips, even though your mind was telling you ‘no, no, back away!’ your body seemed to have a different idea, leaning into his touch and kissing right back causing his signature smirk to envelop his face, smiling into the kiss.

it turned into a heated makeout session, your hands resting on his neck, one of his hands rubbing down your back and the other behind your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. the only thing that could be heard was the movie you had both long forgotten about and the smacks of your lips colliding.

“you don’t know—“ he breathes out before planting another kiss to you, “—how long I’ve wanted this.” you continue your assault to his lips and only pull away for a short response back. “yeah?” he hums an agreement into the kiss, at this point you’re practically grinding on eachother, your brows furrowing and mouth parting slightly, and suddenly it all hits you.

you pull away abruptly, his lips chasing yours before a look of confusion wipes over his face. “we shouldn’t be doing this.” you speak and nervously tuck your hair behind your ears. “well it’s a little late for that princess…” you groan and bury your head in your hands, what were you thinking?

“I mean we don’t really have to stop now—“ you shush him quickly, he rolls his eyes but listens nonetheless, as if on que you can here the doorknob jiggle, you spring off his lap and back onto your designated place on the couch, katsuki grabs a pillow to cover his crotch which you gave him a disgusted look for, as if you werent practically leaking through your panties right now.

they walk through the door, everybody greeting their hellos before your mother speaks up at the sight, “aw look at you two! finally getting along I see?” you grumble at her words but katsuki speaks up with a sly grin, “you could say that.” she gushes over this fact, katsuki was always her favorite friend of your brothers. only you and him knew the true meaning behind his words, eventually everybody gets ready to part their goodbyes, and you’re about to ascend up the stairs again before katsuki calls your name.

you spin around to face him, and stride over he unexpectedly hugs you, which your mother ‘awe’s’ at, little did she know he just whispered ‘call me.’ in your ear, leaving you a flustered mess, you say your quick goodbye and rush up to your room.

what we’re you gonna do.

a/n; if this does well I’ll do part 2 but prolly not

[muwapsturniolo]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 ᥫ᭡. c sturniolo

“I just-she left…”

✗ Angst, mentions of sex but no actual smut, cliffhanger

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

Love was a tricky thing - Bittersweet.

It could make you feel so whole and warm, like your life has meaning. On the other hand, it could break you down completely, as if you weren't worth anything.

This was something that scared Chris. He told everyone he had commitment issues, but they took it as he couldn't settle for one girl specifically, or he was scared of women. In reality, it was the idea of not knowing how your love with someone could end.

So when he dove head first into a relationship only for it to crumble right in his hands, he was distraught. It was so sudden, he thought everything was fine. He was happy, she was happy.

At least he thought she was.

"You're love is just too much Chris...I can't do this."

Her words hurt, they broke him.

He didn't understand how him showing how much he loved her was too much. Isn't that what girls want, for their partners to be open and loving?

After that night it was like she never existed, and it wasn't Chris's doing. The girl had deleted her socials, moved away from LA, and cut everyone off. He could only feel what was left of her, but he wasn't able to feel her.

He wished he knew where she went, what she was doing. He wished he knew how the hell she managed to make him fall in love with her, only to break him.

Did she ever love him?

He refused to be the type to marinate in his emotions, so he threw himself into his work. He forced Nick and Matt to film videos back to back, the brothers quickly becoming exhausted. He decided it was finally time to get his license and a car, hoping that if he betters himself she would come back to him.

But she didn't.

Everyone could see the change in him. He started going out more without his brothers, partying with Sam and Gnar. He'd come home with a different girl on his arm every night, and a bunch of money being spent from the joint account he shares.

That phase only lasted a month or so before Nick finally put his foot down, yelling at Chris and telling him to "Get the fuck over the breakup, she's not coming back."

"I know Nick I just....She left. She fucking left and said my love was too much! What does that mean? I-I did my best!"

He broke down, crying harder than he ever had in his brothers' arms.

"Why did she have to leave? Why won't she just come back?"

It seemed like after that, his whole personality and life did a 180. He grew quiet, no longer being the loud one. He was more snappy, staying in his room and locking himself away from the world.

When questioned about it, he told Matt and Nick that everything reminds him of her. The couch where they watched movies all night, the coffee shop she would force him to go to, and the overall energy of LA.

After a long talk, the three of them decided to leave LA. It seemed like a drastic change, but none of them were happy.

Matt never wanted to come to LA, Chris couldn't handle the memories, and Nick just wanted his brothers to be happy. So after a month of dealing with their management and trying to find a place back home, they finally were back in Boston.

Matt was happier, Nick was happier, and Chris was slowly doing better. He was eating more, laughing again, and even hanging out with friends. He still had trouble sleeping at night, his dreams filled with the memories he shared with her.

He'd wake up wishing that he spent more time savoring those moments instead of taking them for granted. He knew nothing lasted forever and yet he was naive enough to believe they would.

There was a specific night when he couldn't sleep, his mind silent as he stared at the wall. It irritated him, he was tired but something was keeping him awake. He dragged himself out of bed and went to the kitchen to find tea, hoping it would put him in a tranquil state, but there was no tea to be found.

With a sigh he slipped on his shoes and grabbed the car keys, sending a quick text to Nick and Matt, letting them know that if they woke up and he was still gone, he was just grabbing something from the store.

He planned on going to Walgreens, but on the way there, he saw a 24-hour coffee shop. It was small, the lighting giving up a warm glow that was already lulling him to sleep.

He parked the car and walked inside, the smell of the coffee grounds and lavender infiltrating his nose.

It reminded him of the coffee shop they would go to.

He stepped up to the register, looking at the menu for a second before ordering a large chamomile and lavender tea. It only took a second for the barista to hand him his drink, wishing him a 'good night' and telling him to 'be safe'.

With a brief smile he turns around, immediately locking eyes with her.

He could feel his heart fall to the pits of his stomach, his tea long forgotten and dropped to the ground.

"Hey Chris...."

[goldfades]

★ 'cause she's watching him with those eyes / and she's loving him with that body, i just know it / and he's holding her in his arms late, late at night / you know, i wish that i had jessie's girl / i wish that i had jessie's girl / where can i find a woman like that? ───JB⁹

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 18k (a lot more than i expected...)

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | a college student navigates her complicated feelings for her charming yet infuriating neighbor, joe burrow, while dating the seemingly perfect linebacker. after a series of missteps, flirtatious teasing, and an unexpected kiss, she finds herself caught in a whirlwind of tension, confusion, and unexpected sparks, all while trying to avoid the loud, chaotic presence of joe and his ever-constant parade of girls.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | unedited (sorry... i got lazy), NSFW (with lots... and lots... AND LOTS of plot), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it, kids) praise, teasing, lots of kissing/foreplay, p in v, uhhh.. descriptions of big dick joe??? enemies to lovers, roommates, mentions of drinking/alcohol, cheating (not on reader), joe being an asshole, cocky joe, lots of fighting, heated arguments.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | this has been in my drafts for a good 2 months and finally decided to finish it up on the sunday before american thanksgiving! so... yaya! please let me know your thoughts!

The muffled sound of Ja’Marr Chase’s bass-heavy playlist seeps through the thin walls of your apartment, rattling the picture frames you swore you hung up straight last week. The tiny LSU apartment complex, with its peeling beige paint and eternally broken elevator, has its charms—like the way the front door doesn’t lock unless you kick it just right or how the air conditioner only works when it’s below 70 degrees outside.

But Joe Burrow? He’s not one of those charms.

No, Joe Burrow is the bane of your existence, the human equivalent of a pothole on a road you have to take every day. His name alone makes your best friend, Ella, roll her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck in the back of her head. “Just ignore him,” she says every time you come storming through the door, ranting about whatever fresh annoyance he’s cooked up that day. “He only bothers you because you’re fun to mess with.”

Right. Like that’s supposed to make it better.

Living next door to Joe and Ja’Marr was tolerable at first. Sure, they were loud, occasionally messy, and probably violating a dozen lease terms, but it wasn’t personal. Then, you had one small misunderstanding—okay, so maybe you yelled at Joe for leaving his bike in front of your door after you tripped over it—and now it’s like he’s made it his life’s mission to drive you insane.

Sometimes, it’s harmless: an obnoxious smirk when you cross paths on the way to class or his sarcastic comments about how you always seem to be spilling coffee on your shirt. Other times, it’s borderline infuriating: stealing your parking spot, taking the last box of cinnamon rolls at the grocery store, or claiming the shared apartment complex grill for “official game day business” every single Saturday.

Still, there’s something annoyingly magnetic about him, even when you want to wring his neck. The way his eyes crinkle when he’s laughing at his own jokes. The stupid mop of curls he somehow manages to pull off. The effortless confidence that borders on cocky, though you’d never say it out loud because that’s exactly the kind of thing that would go straight to his head.

Ella always jokes that you two are like an old married couple, constantly bickering but secretly loving it. You disagree. Mostly because Joe already has enough people falling at his feet—like the swarm of girls in purple-and-gold jerseys who show up at the apartment complex every other week, giggling like they’re auditioning for a reality show.

You sigh, brushing a stray crumb off the countertop as Ella flops onto the couch behind you, textbook in hand. And if his stupid grin when he sees you on your balcony later tonight is any indication, he’s already got something planned.

You just don’t know it yet.

The parking lot outside your apartment complex is a war zone at 11 p.m., with far too many cars crammed into a space that was clearly designed with only half the residents in mind. You circle the lot for the third time, your headlights cutting through the dark like a searchlight on some hopeless mission. After eight grueling hours at the campus library helping undergrads figure out why their printers are possessed, your brain feels like oatmeal, and all you want is to collapse into your bed.

But, of course, tonight isn’t going to be that simple.

Because there he is. Joe freaking Burrow.

He’s in his Jeep—windows down, music playing softly, and, naturally, there’s a blonde perched in the passenger seat laughing at something he said. Of course, he found the last available spot. Except—it’s not his spot, because you saw it first. Your blinker’s been on since the beginning of time (or at least the last 30 seconds), and you refuse to back down now.

Your grip tightens on the steering wheel as he slowly starts to reverse into the spot, like he hasn’t noticed your very obvious claim to it. Heart pounding with a mix of exhaustion and indignation, you tap your horn. Just once. Polite, but firm. He stops, glances in his rearview mirror, and then—of course—he smirks.

Oh, hell no.

You roll down your window and lean out. “Hey, Burrow! I was waiting for that spot.”

He leans his elbow casually against the window frame, his curls catching the faint glow of the streetlight. “Were you? Didn’t see your name on it.” His voice is slow, lazy, like he’s got all the time in the world to be a pain in your ass.

You glare at him, barely suppressing the urge to snap. “I was here first.”

“And I started reversing first,” he counters, raising an eyebrow like it’s a debate class and not a parking lot at nearly midnight. The blonde giggles beside him, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Just let me have it. You look like you could use the exercise.”

Oh, he’s done it now.

“Excuse me?” Your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you’re too far gone to care. “I’ve been on my feet for eight hours dealing with entitled freshmen, and if you think I’m about to let you—”

“Alright, alright,” Joe interrupts, hands raised in mock surrender. “Relax, I’m not trying to ruin your night.” He throws the Jeep into drive, and with a dramatic sigh, he pulls away, leaving the spot open for you. But not without one last parting comment. “Don’t scratch the paint when you park. Oh, wait—you’re really close to that pole—”

You park with excessive precision, throwing your car into park before leaning out the window to call after him. “I didn’t ask for your help, Joe!”

His laugh echoes across the parking lot, carefree and infuriating. You slam your door shut a little harder than necessary, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you trudge toward the building. Finally, peace.

Or so you think.

Because just as you reach the elevator, its ding announcing its arrival, you hear the telltale sound of sneakers scuffing against concrete and—because your luck is absolute trash—Joe freaking Burrow strolls in behind you, Blonde Giggles McGee still glued to his side.

“Hey, neighbor,” he says casually, stepping into the elevator with you like he didn’t just steal and relinquish a parking spot out of sheer pettiness. The blonde gives you a wide, vaguely clueless smile, her gum snapping between her teeth.

You press the button for the third floor with a pointed jab and cross your arms, leaning against the elevator wall as Joe and his date take their sweet time figuring out which floor they’re going to. The door finally slides shut, and the tension in the small space is unbearable.

“So,” the blonde says brightly, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “you guys, like, live here? That’s so fun! Like, neighbors and stuff. Wow.”

Your lips press into a tight smile, trying to avoid eye contact with Joe, who you can feel grinning at you like this is the highlight of his week. “Yep. Fun,” you reply curtly, forcing the word out like it’s laced with acid.

Joe’s shoulders shake slightly, and you realize he’s laughing. He glances at you, and there’s that damn smirk again, like he knows exactly how close you are to losing it. “She’s real talkative tonight,” he says, tilting his head toward you. “Usually, she’s got more to say.”

You turn to him with a withering glare. “Don’t you have something else to do, Burrow?”

Before he can reply, the elevator lurches slightly as it comes to a stop on your floor. You step out quickly, muttering a polite “Good night” that is entirely devoid of warmth. Joe follows, his pace annoyingly casual as he throws one last look over his shoulder.

“See you around, neighbor,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.

You don’t look back.

The smell of cheap ramen hits you the moment you open the door to your apartment. It’s comforting, in a way—familiar, like Ella’s answer to every late-night craving or bad day. She’s in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove, barefoot and wearing the oversized LSU sweatshirt you’d bought together during freshman year.

“You’re late,” she says without looking up, her voice light with mock reproach. “Was the library on fire, or did you stop to fight Burrow in the parking lot again?”

You kick off your shoes with a sigh, tossing your bag onto the couch. “Option B. Obviously.”

That gets her attention. She turns, spoon in hand, eyebrows raised. “Seriously? It’s, like, midnight. You two are going to give each other aneurysms before graduation.”

You slump into one of the kitchen chairs, letting your forehead hit the table dramatically. “He stole my parking spot. Had the audacity to smirk about it, too. And then—get this—I got stuck in the elevator with him and some girl who wouldn’t stop talking about how ‘fun’ it is to have neighbors.” You lift your head to glare at Ella, who is now struggling to hold back a laugh. “I’m cursed. That man is my curse.”

Ella snorts, pouring the ramen into two mismatched bowls. “He’s not your curse. He’s just a guy with too much charm and not enough common sense. And clearly, you’re living rent-free in his head, which, honestly, is kind of impressive considering he’s got a playbook in there.”

You accept the bowl she slides across the table, your stomach growling despite your lingering irritation. “I don’t want to live in his head. I want him to stop being so… so Joe all the time.”

Ella sits across from you, propping her chin in her hand with a sly grin. “Are you sure? You seem to spend a lot of time talking about him.”

You glare at her over a mouthful of noodles. “Don’t start.”

But she’s already started, her grin widening. “I’m just saying, it’s giving sexual tension.”

You nearly choke, coughing as you wave her off. “Nope. Absolutely not. There’s no tension. Only irritation. And rage. And an overwhelming desire to see him move to a different apartment complex.”

Ella laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Whatever you say, babe. But for the record, I think you secretly enjoy it.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can form a retort, there’s a knock at the door. Both of you freeze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.

“You expecting someone?” Ella whispers, her tone suddenly conspiratorial.

“No,” you whisper back, your heart sinking as a horrible suspicion creeps over you.

Ella gestures for you to check, and with a deep, resigned breath, you shuffle to the door, bowl still in hand. You crack it open just enough to see who’s on the other side, and—because the universe apparently hates you—there he is. Joe Burrow, in all his smug, infuriating glory, holding a box of cinnamon rolls.

“Hey, neighbor,” he says, his grin infuriatingly wide. “Figured I owed you something for stealing your spot.”

You stare at him, speechless, for a moment. Then, finally, you manage, “It’s 11:30 at night.”

He shrugs, as if that’s a perfectly reasonable time for a peace offering. “Better late than never, right?”

From behind you, Ella’s voice rings out, barely containing her amusement. “Is that Joe? Invite him in!”

You turn to glare at her, silently vowing revenge, but when you look back at Joe, he’s already stepping inside like he owns the place.

“Nice place,” he says, glancing around before holding up the box. “So… cinnamon roll?”

You sigh, shutting the door behind him. It’s going to be a long night.

Joe leans casually against the counter, still holding the box of cinnamon rolls like he’s been invited to stay for a late-night hangout. You narrow your eyes at him, folding your arms. “So, what’s this about, really? Cinnamon rolls aren’t exactly your style.”

“Wow, judgmental much?” he says with a mock-wounded expression. “What if I just wanted to be neighborly?”

Ella snickers softly behind you, spooning up her ramen as she watches the exchange like it’s prime-time TV.

Joe grins, ignoring your skepticism. “Actually,” he says, setting the box on the counter with a little too much flourish, “I’m out of sugar. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”

You blink at him, incredulous. “Sugar? You came over at almost midnight to borrow sugar?”

“Yup,” he says, popping the “p” for emphasis, completely unbothered by your glare.

Ella, ever the peacemaker—or enabler, depending on the situation—sets her bowl down and gets up to rummage through the cabinets. “We’ve got some,” she says reluctantly, pulling out a small bag. She walks over and places it in Joe’s outstretched hand, but not without narrowing her eyes at him. “You better bring this back, Burrow. Or at least repay us with something better than cinnamon rolls.”

“Noted,” he says with a charming smile, tucking the bag under his arm. He turns to you, his grin softening into something almost teasing. “Thanks, neighbor. You’re a real lifesaver.”

You don’t bother replying, instead stepping aside so he can leave. He makes his way to the door, pausing for a moment. “Oh, and don’t forget to check your parking job in the morning,” he says with a wink before slipping out into the hallway.

The second the door clicks shut, you groan, slumping against the counter. Ella bursts into laughter, practically doubling over as she grabs her bowl again. “You two are ridiculous,” she says between bites.

“I’m moving out,” you mutter, dragging yourself to the couch. “I don’t care if it’s to a cardboard box in the quad. It’ll be quieter than this.”

You think that’s the end of it—Joe’s random sugar-borrowing adventure, Ella’s endless teasing—but of course, you’re wrong. Because a few hours later, just as you’re finally starting to drift off in the tiny bedroom you call your sanctuary, you hear it.

A muffled giggle. A low, rumbling voice you’d recognize anywhere. Then, unmistakably, the rhythmic creak of a bed frame against the wall.

Your eyes snap open, and for a moment, you pray you’re imagining things. Maybe it’s a nightmare—a cruel joke your overtired brain is playing on you. But then you hear it again, louder this time, followed by a very enthusiastic “Oh my God, Joey!”

You groan, grabbing your pillow and pressing it over your ears.

From the other side of the wall, Ella’s muffled voice reaches you through the darkness. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” you hiss, your voice barely audible through the pillow. “It’s him.”

She snorts, and you can hear her shifting in her bed. “Well, at least he’s getting good use out of that sugar.”

You let out a strangled laugh, torn between exhaustion and disbelief. “I swear, if this goes on all night—”

As if on cue, there’s another creak, louder this time, followed by more giggling and exaggerated moaning.

Ella sighs. “Thin walls, huh?”

“Apparently,” you mutter, rolling onto your side and glaring at the wall like it’s personally offended you.

The noises continue—giggles, muffled moans, the occasional thud that makes you wince. You bury your face in your pillow, silently cursing Joe Burrow and his audacity.

It’s going to be a very, very long night.

The next morning comes too soon. Despite the symphony of creaks, giggles, and thuds that plagued the night, you manage to drag yourself out of bed, bleary-eyed and cranky. The coffee pot sputters as you pour yourself a life-saving cup, muttering curses at your neighbor under your breath. Ella, still in her pajamas, watches you from the couch with an amused smirk.

“You look alive,” she teases, spooning cereal into her mouth. “Barely.”

“I hate him,” you say flatly, taking a long sip of coffee.

“Sure you do,” she singsongs.

You don’t dignify her with a response, grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

As luck—or fate—would have it, the universe isn’t done with you yet. Because just as you’re locking your apartment door, you hear the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking down the hallway.

You glance over your shoulder and immediately regret it.

There she is. Last night’s Blonde of the Hour, strutting toward the elevator with a walk of shame so confident it might as well be a victory lap. She’s wearing Joe’s oversized LSU hoodie, paired with last night’s skirt and heels. Her hair is tousled, but she doesn’t seem to care.

And because the universe apparently has a sense of humor, she notices you at the same time you notice her.

“Morning!” she chirps, her voice way too chipper for someone who clearly didn’t sleep much.

You press your lips together to keep from laughing, nodding in acknowledgment. “Morning.”

The two of you step into the elevator together, the silence stretching awkwardly between you. You steal a glance at her from the corner of your eye, wondering if she has any idea that her night of “fun” ruined yours. But then she sighs and adjusts the sleeves of Joe’s hoodie, completely unbothered, and you realize she probably doesn’t care.

The doors slide open to the lobby, and you step out first, your pace brisk as you make a beeline for the exit. But as you push through the glass doors into the bright morning sunlight, you nearly collide with none other than Joe Burrow himself.

He’s leaning against his car, coffee cup in hand, looking far too put together for someone who should be as tired as you. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, then flick over to the blonde trailing behind.

“Morning, neighbor,” he says, his voice laced with amusement.

“Morning,” you reply dryly, brushing past him toward your car.

But of course, he can’t just let it go. “Sleep well?”

You stop dead in your tracks, turning to glare at him. His smirk is infuriatingly smug, and you can’t tell if he’s genuinely clueless or just messing with you.

“Thin walls,” you say pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

His smirk falters for half a second before he recovers, lifting his coffee cup in a mock toast. “Noted.”

The blonde, oblivious to the tension, giggles. “Joe, you didn’t tell me your neighbors were so fun!”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead unlocking your car with more force than necessary. “Oh, we’re a blast,” you mutter under your breath, sliding into the driver’s seat.

As you pull out of the parking lot, you catch a glimpse of Joe in your rearview mirror, still leaning against his car, watching you leave. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—amusement, maybe, or curiosity—but you don’t have the energy to figure it out.

Later that afternoon, when you’re back in your apartment trying to catch up on work, Ella pops her head into the living room with a mischievous grin.

“Guess who I ran into at the coffee shop?”

You glance up warily. “Who?”

“Joe,” she says, plopping down on the couch. “He said he’s planning a little ‘building mixer’ this weekend. Invited everyone on the floor. Including us.”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the couch. “No. Absolutely not. I am not going to some Burrow-hosted mixer.”

“Oh, come on,” Ella says, nudging you with her foot. “It could be fun. Free food, free drinks… awkward encounters with your mortal enemy…”

You glare at her, but she just laughs. “You’re going,” she says firmly. “I already RSVP’d for us.”

And just like that, you realize your week is about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Saturday night rolls around faster than you’d like, and with it comes the so-called “mixer” that Joe Burrow somehow convinced Ella you had to attend. You’d held onto the slim hope that it would be a small, quiet gathering of your neighbors in the building, with maybe some snacks, polite small talk, and an early exit for you.

Instead, you step off the elevator into what can only be described as chaos. The hallway is packed with people, the distant thrum of music vibrating through the walls. Someone’s yelling about finding the keg, and the faint scent of spilled beer and cologne wafts toward you.

“This is not a mixer,” you mutter to Ella as you both navigate your way through the crowd.

Ella, of course, looks thrilled. She’s dolled up in a crop top and high-waisted jeans, her hair and makeup perfectly done. “Relax,” she says, looping her arm through yours. “It’s just a party. Have a drink, let loose. Who knows? You might even have fun.”

You highly doubt that, but before you can argue, she spots Ja’Marr Chase leaning against the doorway to Joe’s apartment and perks up immediately. “I’ll catch up with you later!” she says, already untangling herself from your arm and heading toward him.

“Ella!” you call after her, but she’s too busy tossing a flirty smile Ja’Marr’s way to notice.

Great. Now you’re alone in the middle of a party that feels like half of LSU showed up to, surrounded by strangers and sticky floors. You push your way toward the kitchen, hoping to grab a drink and then find a corner to blend into until Ella decides it’s time to leave.

But, because the universe apparently loves messing with you, you hear his voice before you see him.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up.”

You groan internally and turn to see Joe leaning against the counter, a Solo cup in hand and that ever-present smirk on his face. He’s dressed casually in a fitted t-shirt and jeans, but somehow still manages to look like he owns the place—which, technically, he does.

“I’m only here because Ella dragged me,” you say, crossing your arms. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Joe chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Come on, admit it. You’re having the time of your life.”

“Yeah, sure,” you deadpan. “Sticky floors and loud music are exactly my idea of fun.”

He grins, clearly enjoying your irritation. “You know, if you wanted to hang out with me so badly, you could’ve just asked. No need to pretend Ella dragged you here.”

“I—” You stop yourself, realizing there’s no point in arguing. It’s exactly what he wants. Instead, you grab a bottle of water from the counter and turn to leave.

“Hey, hold up,” he says, stepping in front of you. “You’re not just gonna drink water all night, are you?”

“Yes, Joe, I am,” you say, trying to sidestep him, but he moves to block you.

“At least let me get you a real drink,” he says, gesturing toward the makeshift bar someone set up on the other side of the room. “I make a mean rum and Coke.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” he says, stepping aside, but not before adding, “But you’re missing out. My bartending skills are unmatched.”

You roll your eyes and head toward the living room, finding a spot near the wall where you can observe without being dragged into the chaos. You sip your water and watch as Joe works the room, effortlessly charming everyone he talks to.

About an hour later, you’re starting to regret not leaving when Ella abandoned you. You’ve been stuck making awkward small talk with strangers, and the music is only getting louder.

Then Ella appears out of nowhere, grabbing your arm with a giggle. “Come with me,” she says, pulling you toward the corner where Joe and some of his teammates are lounging on a worn-out sectional.

“Why?” you ask, resisting her tug.

“Because Ja’Marr wants to introduce me to his friends, and I don’t want to go alone!”

You sigh, reluctantly following her over. Ja’Marr greets Ella with a grin, and she practically melts under his attention. You, on the other hand, find yourself stuck sitting next to Joe, who looks far too pleased about the arrangement.

“Miss me already?” he asks, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music.

“Not even a little,” you reply, glaring at him.

He chuckles, clearly unbothered. “You’re really bad at hiding how much you enjoy my company, you know that?”

You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, one of his teammates interrupts. “Yo, Burrow, who’s this?”

“This,” Joe says, gesturing toward you with a dramatic flourish, “is my lovely neighbor.”

“Neighbor, huh?” the guy says, raising an eyebrow. “You two seem… close.”

You snort. “Not even remotely.”

Joe grins, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind you. “Don’t listen to her,” he says. “She’s just shy.”

You shoot him a withering look, but he only laughs, clearly enjoying himself.

As the night drags on, Joe makes it his personal mission to annoy you. Every time you try to leave, he finds a way to pull you back into the conversation, teasing you relentlessly. His teammates, to their credit, seem amused by the dynamic, occasionally chiming in with their own jokes.

By the time Ella finally decides she’s ready to leave, you’re exhausted—physically and emotionally. You practically sprint for the door, eager to escape Joe’s smirk and the endless teasing.

As you step into the hallway, he calls after you, “See you around, neighbor!”

You don’t bother responding, instead dragging Ella toward the elevator. But as you press the button for your floor, you can’t help but feel like you haven’t seen the last of Joe Burrow tonight—or any night, for that matter.

The next week at LSU passes like any other, but somehow, Joe Burrow has managed to worm his way into your daily routine. It starts small—running into him at the mailboxes, hearing his muffled laughter through the thin walls at ungodly hours, and the occasional “good morning, neighbor!” shouted across the courtyard when you’re clearly not in the mood.

It’s maddening, really, the way he seems to delight in being everywhere you don’t want him to be. And yet, despite your annoyance, you can’t deny that his presence makes life just a little more… interesting.

FRIDAY NIGHT

Ella bursts through the apartment door, her face lit up with excitement. You’re sprawled on the couch, flipping through lecture notes and wishing the week would end already.

“Guess what!” she exclaims, tossing her bag onto the counter.

“Let me guess,” you say dryly. “Ja’Marr invited you to another party?”

“Close,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Ja’Marr and Joe are throwing a tailgate tomorrow before the game, and we’re invited.”

You groan, already dreading the idea of spending yet another afternoon dodging Joe’s incessant teasing. “I’m busy,” you lie.

“You’re coming,” Ella insists, plopping down next to you. “It’s practically a campus tradition, and besides, you could use a little fun.”

“Fun,” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling being forced to socialize with half of LSU now?”

Ella rolls her eyes. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Food, drinks, and—” she grins mischievously—“a chance to hang out with your favorite quarterback.”

You glare at her. “Joe Burrow is not my favorite anything.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly not believing you. “Wear something cute. We’re leaving at noon.”

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

The tailgate is, unsurprisingly, a spectacle. Rows of tents stretch across the field, decked out in purple and gold, with grills smoking and music blasting. Students and alumni alike mill about, laughing and chatting as they gear up for the game.

You follow Ella through the crowd, clutching a plastic cup of soda and trying to blend in. She, of course, makes a beeline for Ja’Marr, who’s manning the grill with an ease that suggests he’s done this a thousand times.

And where there’s Ja’Marr, there’s Joe.

He spots you almost immediately, his trademark smirk spreading across his face as he waves you over. “Hey, neighbor! Glad you could make it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter, but he’s already stepping closer, his easy confidence making it impossible to ignore him.

“What, no hug?” he teases, holding his arms out dramatically.

“Not in this lifetime,” you reply, sidestepping him.

Ella, now fully engrossed in a conversation with Ja’Marr, leaves you to fend for yourself. You glance around, debating whether to make a run for it, but Joe blocks your path, clearly amused by your discomfort.

“You’re really bad at this whole socializing thing, aren’t you?” he says, leaning casually against the nearest table.

“Maybe I just don’t enjoy your company,” you retort, taking a sip of your drink.

He grins. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here.”

Before you can respond, one of his teammates calls his name, distracting him long enough for you to slip away. You find a quieter spot near the edge of the field, letting the noise of the crowd fade into the background.

But, of course, Joe finds you again.

“Thought you’d try to escape, huh?” he says, appearing at your side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I wasn’t escaping,” you lie, crossing your arms.

“Sure you weren’t.” He pauses, glancing at the crowd. “Not a fan of tailgates?”

“Not a fan of crowds,” you admit.

He nods, surprisingly serious for once. “Fair enough. They’re not for everyone.”

You glance at him, caught off guard by the genuine tone in his voice. It’s a rare moment of sincerity from someone who seems to live for getting under your skin.

And then, just as quickly, the moment passes.

“Still,” he says, his smirk returning, “you’ve got to admit, the food’s pretty good. Ja’Marr’s burgers? Best on campus.”

The party stretched well into the night, turning the once-bustling tailgate into a dimly lit, hazy scene of music, laughter, and scattered conversations. You’d almost forgotten how much you hated these kinds of events. The air was warm, the smell of grilled food and spilled beer thick, but for once, you weren’t faking a smile just to survive.

Instead, you were leaning against a folding chair near the makeshift DJ booth, chatting with a guy named Wes. He was a linebacker for LSU, though, by his own admission, mostly a benchwarmer. Shy, soft-spoken, and refreshingly normal, Wes wasn’t at all what you expected to find at a party like this.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been to Mike’s cage?” he asked, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the music.

You laughed. “I don’t know, it just never seemed like a big deal to me. It’s a tiger.”

His eyes widened in mock offense. “It’s not just a tiger. It’s our tiger.”

“Okay, okay, maybe I’ll check it out sometime,” you said, grinning at his enthusiasm.

From the corner of your eye, you caught movement, and instinctively, you glanced over. There, leaning against the bar table, was Joe.

His usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his jaw was tight, and his eyes were fixed on you and Wes.

The sight of his uncharacteristically cold expression sent a jolt through you. Was he annoyed? No, that didn’t make sense. He didn’t care about you, not really.

Wes was saying something about the tiger habitat, but your attention flickered back to Joe. His knuckles whitened around the edge of his red Solo cup, and he seemed to be muttering something to Ja’Marr, who only shrugged in response.

“Everything okay?” Wes asked, his brow furrowed as he followed your gaze.

You blinked, forcing yourself to refocus. “Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?”

Joe, however, was impossible to ignore. At one point, he stormed past your little corner of the party, brushing close enough that you could feel the heat of his arm against yours.

Wes had just finished telling a story about his first LSU practice, his nervous laughter making you smile, when Joe’s voice cut through the conversation like a jagged knife.

“Nice to see you making friends,” he said, his tone just sharp enough to raise the hairs on your neck.

You turned to find Joe standing a few feet away, his trademark smirk forced and strained. He wasn’t looking at you but at Wes, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey, Burrow,” Wes said, his voice even but noticeably quieter.

Joe stepped closer, ignoring you entirely as he clapped Wes on the shoulder. “Wesley Evans, right? Linebacker extraordinaire.” His words were light, almost teasing, but there was a strange undertone to them.

“Uh, yeah,” Wes said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Though ‘extraordinaire’ might be a bit of a stretch.”

Joe chuckled, his laugh cold. “Oh, come on. Don’t sell yourself short. I mean, someone’s got to keep the bench warm, right?”

The group went silent.

You froze, your stomach dropping as the words settled over the conversation like a wet blanket. Wes’s easygoing demeanor faltered for just a moment—just long enough for you to catch the flicker of hurt in his eyes.

But he recovered quickly, letting out a forced laugh. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta do it.”

“Joe,” Ja’Marr said sharply, stepping forward. “That was uncalled for.”

Joe raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk faltering. “What? I was just joking.”

“No, you weren’t,” Ja’Marr said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You stared at Joe, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and confusion. What was his problem? You’d seen him tease people before, but this was something else. This was cruel.

Joe’s eyes finally flicked to yours, and for a brief second, something like regret flashed across his face. But just as quickly, he turned away, muttering, “Whatever,” before stalking off into the crowd.

The group stood in awkward silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I’m sorry about that,” you said softly, turning to Wes.

He shook his head, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”

But you could see the way his shoulders sagged, the way his fingers tightened around the edge of his cup.

Ja’Marr sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s not usually like that.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, still staring at the spot where Joe had disappeared.

Ja’Marr shot you a look but said nothing. The group eventually dispersed, the easy energy of the night soured by the encounter.

And as you followed Ella home later, you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your head, trying to piece together why Joe Burrow seemed so determined to ruin the night—not just for you, but for Wes, too.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the faint buzz of crickets and distant party music filling the air as you and Ella navigated the dimly lit sidewalks. The night had been long, and your head was still spinning from Joe’s earlier outburst. You’d always known him to be annoying, maybe even a little infuriating, but tonight was different. There was a sharpness to him, an edge that left you unsettled.

Ella broke the silence first, her voice soft. “What do you think that was about? With Joe, I mean.”

You shrugged, kicking a loose pebble down the pavement. “Who knows? Maybe he ran out of people to torture and decided to branch out.”

Ella laughed lightly but didn’t press further. By the time you reached your apartment complex, the cool night air had started to seep into your skin, making you shiver. All you could think about was collapsing into bed and forgetting this day ever happened.

But, of course, Joe Burrow had other plans.

There he was, right in front of your door, pressed up against yet another blonde, her manicured nails tangled in his hair as they made out like the world was ending.

You stopped dead in your tracks, Ella nearly bumping into you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath.

At the sound of your voice, Joe broke away from his hookup, turning to face you with a smirk that was equal parts shameless and infuriating.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite neighbor,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Didn’t think you’d be back so soon. Wes not invite you over for a post-party study session?”

Your jaw tightened. “Get out of the way, Burrow.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “What’s the rush? You don’t want to hang out? I can introduce you to…uh…” He glanced at the girl beside him, snapping his fingers as if trying to remember her name.

The blonde giggled, clearly unbothered. “Stephanie,” she offered, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Right. Stephanie,” Joe said, his grin widening.

Ella groaned softly beside you, crossing her arms. “Joe, move. We’re tired.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, stepping aside but not before leaning casually against the doorframe, effectively blocking your path again. “But seriously, where’s Wes? Thought you two were hitting it off. Or is he back on the bench already?”

“Are you serious right now?” you snapped, finally losing the last shred of patience you had left.

Joe straightened up, clearly surprised by the sudden bite in your tone. “What? I’m just messing around.”

“No, you’re being a jerk,” you shot back. “First, you humiliate Wes at the party, and now you’re standing here, rubbing it in like it’s some kind of joke. What’s your problem?”

Stephanie shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting between you and Joe. “Uh, maybe we should—”

“Not now,” Joe cut her off, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard it. He didn’t even look at her, his eyes locked on yours.

Stephanie’s mouth fell open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Just go,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm.

For a moment, the three of you stood frozen, the tension hanging thick in the air. Then, with an indignant huff, Stephanie grabbed her purse and stormed off, her heels clicking angrily against the pavement.

Ella’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Wow,” she muttered under her breath.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply before turning back to you. “Happy now?”

“No,” you said, crossing your arms. “You’re still here.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re acting like I committed some crime. I was just joking, okay? It’s not my fault you can’t take a little teasing.”

“Teasing?” you repeated, incredulous. “Joe, you embarrassed Wes in front of everyone tonight. And for what? To make yourself feel better? To prove you’re the big man on campus?”

His jaw clenched, the cocky facade cracking ever so slightly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then enlighten me,” you challenged, taking a step closer. “Why do you always have to be such an ass?”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze dropping to the ground. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and tense. “Maybe because it’s the only way to get your attention.”

Your breath caught, his words hitting like a punch to the gut. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of his door slamming echoing through the quiet hallway.

Ella let out a low whistle. “Well, that was…something.”

You stared after him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Something.”

“Did he just…?” Ella’s voice was barely a whisper beside you.

You swallowed hard, not trusting yourself to speak. What the hell was that supposed to mean? It wasn’t like Joe to be vulnerable—hell, he practically lived to get under your skin. And yet, there it was, hanging in the air: the truth you never asked for, wrapped up in all his stupid teasing and annoying antics.

“Forget it,” you finally muttered, fumbling with your keys as you moved to unlock the door. “He’s just trying to mess with me.”

“Uh-huh,” Ella said slowly, following you inside. “Because, you know, the guy who just ditched a hot blonde to argue with you at midnight clearly doesn’t care.”

You shot her a glare, unwilling to entertain the idea. “I’m going to bed.”

Ella raised her hands in surrender, smirking knowingly as she headed for her room. “Okay, but don’t act surprised when he shows up tomorrow. He’s not exactly the type to let things go.”

“Goodnight, Ella,” you said firmly, shutting your bedroom door behind you.

But as you lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t get his words out of your head. Maybe because it’s the only way to get your attention. Was he serious? Or was this just another game to him, a way to throw you off-balance and make you question everything?

With a frustrated sigh, you rolled over, punching your pillow as if it was somehow Joe’s fault that you couldn’t sleep. Whatever his deal was, you weren’t going to let him get under your skin any more than he already had.

But deep down, you knew it was too late. Because whether you liked it or not, Joe Burrow had already wormed his way into your thoughts—and no amount of denial was going to change that.

The next morning, you woke up to a series of loud knocks on your door, far too early for any sane person to be awake. Groaning, you pulled the covers over your head, but the knocking continued, persistent and unrelenting.

“Go away!” you yelled, but the noise didn’t stop.

With a huff, you threw off the blankets and stumbled out of bed, yanking open the door with every intention of giving whoever it was a piece of your mind.

But, of course, it was Joe.

He stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe like he hadn’t just woken you up at the crack of dawn, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Morning, neighbor.”

You stared at him, too stunned and too tired to muster a response.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he said, his tone annoyingly chipper.

“I wasn’t,” you snapped, rubbing your eyes. “What the hell do you want?”

His smile widened, and he held up a to-go coffee cup, the LSU logo bright against the paper sleeve. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up.”

You blinked at the cup, then at him, suspicion rising. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, still holding it out. “Just coffee. Truce?”

You hesitated, the words from last night still lingering between you. But, against your better judgment, you reached for the cup, your fingers brushing his for a brief second. “Fine. Truce. For now.”

His eyes gleamed, like he’d just won some kind of invisible battle. “I’ll take it.” He turned to leave but paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Oh, and by the way—I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing in the doorway with a coffee cup in hand and the distinct feeling that, somehow, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Things between you and Wes have been going really well. You’ve been texting each other daily since that first meeting in the quad, and his messages always seem to bring a smile to your face. Some days, you talk about classes and the usual college chaos—complaining about professors who seem to thrive on assigning last-minute papers, laughing over campus gossip, or sharing music recommendations.

Other days, the conversations drift into deeper topics: family, future dreams, and the things you never thought you’d share with someone you’d barely known a few weeks ago. It's easy, effortless, and you feel like you've known him forever. There's a connection that grows stronger with each passing day, his texts becoming a constant you look forward to amid the swirl of college life.

When game days roll around, you make sure to watch, even if football has never been your thing. You learn enough of the basics to text him encouragement before each game and tease him when his team makes a stupid play. And every single time he wins, you get a photo of him in his jersey, sweaty and glowing with victory, his smile so wide you can feel it through the screen.

One crisp Saturday evening after a particularly big game—a win that had the entire stadium roaring and chanting for more—your phone buzzes. It’s Wes, as expected, but this time the message is different.

Wes: Big win tonight. You should come out to celebrate—party at the house. It'll be fun, promise.

You hesitate for a moment. Frat parties aren’t usually your scene, but the idea of seeing Wes in person after weeks of building up this text-based connection makes your heart beat a little faster. It feels like the right time to finally break out of the comfort of your phone screen. You don’t want to overthink it, so you respond quickly.

You: Okay, I’ll come! What time? Wes: Perfect. Starts at 9, but I’ll be there around 10. Meet me out front? I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.

You can’t help but laugh at that—his protective side has become more apparent lately, and you find it kind of endearing. The rest of the evening passes in a blur of anticipation. You try on half your wardrobe, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness that makes your stomach flutter. After way too much deliberation, you settle on something that’s cute but comfortable—a black crop top, jeans that fit just right, and your favorite sneakers. Casual, but you don’t want to come off like you’re trying too hard.

The party was in full swing by the time you and Wes went in, the familiar buzz of laughter and music filling the air. His arm rested loosely around your shoulders as you made your way through the packed house, a red solo cup already in his hand. It was a typical LSU post-game celebration—teammates hyped up from their win, students eager for a reason to cut loose, and just enough chaos to keep things interesting.

Wes, ever the golden retriever type, was all smiles as he greeted his teammates. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as you plastered on your own smile. Wes was great—sweet, thoughtful, and good-looking to boot—but there was something missing. Conversations with him always felt a little too polished, like he was sticking to a script.

Still, you weren’t going to let your wandering thoughts ruin the night. As he led you toward the makeshift bar in the kitchen, you decided to let loose a little, leaning into his world for the evening.

You were two drinks in when you felt it—a shift in the air that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Glancing across the room, your eyes locked with Joe’s. He was leaning casually against the wall, his cup dangling from his fingers as he laughed at something Ja’Marr said. But his focus wasn’t on his teammate—it was on you.

That look.

You’d seen it before, the one that screamed I’m up to something. Your stomach twisted as his lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.

“What’s wrong?” Wes asked, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just thought I saw someone I knew.”

Wes didn’t notice your distraction, too busy rambling about the game. You nodded along, but your attention kept drifting back to Joe. He was still watching, and now he was moving.

Straight toward you.

“Wesley,” Joe said, his voice louder than necessary as he clapped a hand on Wes’s shoulder. “Man of the hour! Hell of a game tonight.”

Wes beamed, his chest puffing out a little. “Thanks, Burrow. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Joe said smoothly, his grin sharpening. “You’re really making a name for yourself out there.” He paused, his tone dipping just enough to make the compliment feel off. “You’ve got a solid five minutes of playing time this season, right?”

Wes laughed, missing the sarcasm entirely. “Yeah, Coach says I’m improving every week.”

Joe nodded, his expression the picture of sincerity. “No doubt. You’re an inspiration, man. Really showing the bench how it’s done.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to step in. Wes didn’t deserve to be Joe’s verbal punching bag, even if he was too oblivious to notice.

Then Joe shifted his focus.

“And this,” he said, gesturing toward you with his cup, “is the girl everyone’s been talking about?”

You stiffened, already bracing yourself.

“She’s great, right?” Wes said proudly, tightening his arm around your waist.

“Absolutely,” Joe said, his eyes locking on yours. “Smart, pretty, patient.” His lips twitched as he added, “Definitely one of a kind.”

The room felt hotter, smaller. You knew what he was doing, and you refused to let him win.

“Wow, Joe,” you said, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. “That’s almost a compliment. Are you feeling okay?”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “What can I say? I’m a generous guy.”

Wes chuckled awkwardly, clearly missing the tension simmering between the two of you. But the people around you weren’t as oblivious. Conversations around the kitchen began to quiet, heads subtly turning in your direction.

Joe leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Though I gotta say, Wes, you’ve got your hands full. She seems like the type to keep you on your toes. Always ready with a snappy comeback.”

You took a step forward, your jaw tightening. “Maybe because some people deserve it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re talking about me,” Joe said, his smirk widening. “But hey, you’ve got to admit, I keep things interesting.”

“Interesting?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You mean infuriating.”

By now, you were toe-to-toe, the space between you charged with unspoken words and something else you refused to acknowledge.

Joe’s eyes flicked down to your lips for a fraction of a second before he smiled again, softer this time. “Guess that’s one way to put it.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you were certain everyone in the room could see the way your cheeks flushed, the way your chest rose and fell faster than it should have.

Joe straightened, patting Wes on the back. “You’ve got a good one here, man. Don’t screw it up.”

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd with that stupid smirk still on his face.

Wes turned to you, oblivious as ever. “Man, Joe’s great, isn’t he?”

You didn’t answer, too busy trying to calm the storm raging inside you. Because as much as you hated to admit it, Joe Burrow had just gotten under your skin again. And this time, you weren’t sure you could shake him off.

The days blur together after the party, each one bleeding into the next with a heavy quiet you can’t shake. Joe hasn’t teased you, hasn’t made any more snide comments in passing. It’s almost like he’s disappeared entirely, and the silence he’s left behind feels suffocating.

But it's not the kind of peace you wanted—it's the kind that echoes, that bounces around inside your skull, replaying the things he said over and over again until you can’t ignore them anymore. You try to focus on Wes, try to let his easygoing, good-natured attitude soothe the irritation that keeps curling under your skin, but the more you think about Joe’s words, the more they fester. Suddenly, everything about Wes feels too soft, too careful. He’s kind, yes, but there's a blandness to it, a safe predictability that only makes you itch for something sharper.

Then, days later, you find yourself in the apartment lobby, bundled up against the late autumn chill, glaring at a maintenance form on the wall. The hot water’s been out for days, and you’re halfway through filling out a complaint when you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is—the shift in the air is enough.

"Wow, fancy meeting you here," comes Joe’s voice, smooth and mocking, with just enough bite to make your spine stiffen. You don’t turn around, don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you keep writing, the pen pressing hard enough against the paper that it almost tears.

"Cold water bothering you too?" he continues when you don’t respond, his tone amused. You can feel him looming behind you, a little too close, and you grit your teeth, willing yourself to stay calm.

"Just trying to get it fixed," you reply curtly, finally turning around and catching the cocky smirk tugging at his lips. You’re not in the mood for whatever game he’s about to play, but of course, he’s not about to let you off that easy. His gaze slides from the form in your hand back up to your face, one eyebrow quirking up in that infuriating way that always makes you want to wipe the smugness off his face.

"Surprised you’re handling it yourself," Joe drawls, his eyes bright with something almost like delight. "Thought you'd get your little boyfriend to do it for you."

Your fingers tighten around the pen, and you force yourself to take a breath, ignoring the way your pulse quickens. "Not everything revolves around Wes," you shoot back, but your voice wavers just enough to make Joe’s smirk widen. His eyes flick over your face, and you hate the way he seems to read every expression, every crack in the mask you’re struggling to hold up.

"Really?" he says, the word heavy with skepticism. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall like he’s settling in for a show. "Could’ve fooled me. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, huh? I bet you’re the perfect, supportive girlfriend." His voice drips with sarcasm, and something inside you snaps.

"Shut up, Joe," you hiss, your voice low and dangerous. You turn back to the form, determined to ignore him, but he doesn’t move. In fact, he leans in closer, his breath warm on your ear.

"Why?" he murmurs, his voice soft but taunting, like he’s got all the time in the world. "Hit a nerve?"

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because the truth is, he did hit a nerve. And he knows it.

"Come on," he pushes, a note of genuine curiosity in his tone now. "Don’t you ever get tired of it? Playing nice, doing everything right, sticking with someone who’s… I dunno, safe?"

You spin around, eyes blazing, and Joe’s face lights up with triumph. "You don’t know anything about him," you snap, but there’s a waver in your voice that makes Joe’s eyes narrow with interest. "Wes is kind, and he’s decent, and he actually cares about people, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you."

Joe’s smile doesn’t falter. In fact, it only grows wider, almost wolfish, and you hate that it sends a thrill through you, a charge that leaves your heart racing. "Yeah," he says, his tone almost pitying, "he’s safe. Boring. He’s exactly the kind of guy who’d never get in your way, never challenge you, never push back. And you’re happy with that? Really?"

You glare at him, your blood boiling, but you can’t look away. Because some part of you—the part you’ve been trying to silence for days—knows he’s right, and it makes you want to scream. "What the hell is your problem, Joe?" you demand, your voice shaking with anger. "Why do you even care? What does it matter to you if I’m with him or not?"

For a moment, something flickers in Joe’s eyes, something you can’t quite read, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears, replaced by that infuriating smirk. "I don’t care," he says, too quickly, his voice a little too smooth. "I just think it’s funny, that’s all. Watching you pretend like he’s enough for you."

You step closer without realizing it, your fists clenched at your sides. "You don’t know what you’re talking about," you insist, but it sounds weak, even to your own ears. Joe’s gaze drops to your lips for a split second, and you feel a jolt of something hot and dangerous twist in your stomach.

"Don’t I?" he murmurs, and suddenly, you’re standing toe-to-toe, your breath mingling with his, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. He’s so close, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his smirk softens just enough to be dangerous.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

There’s a beat, a moment suspended in time where it feels like the whole world has narrowed down to just the two of you, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air. Then, suddenly, Joe’s expression shifts, a slow, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he leans back, breaking the spell. He claps you on the shoulder, his touch light but lingering.

"Good talk," he says, his tone infuriatingly cheerful as he pushes past you towards the elevator, leaving you standing there, breathless and rattled.

"Have fun with Wes," he throws over his shoulder, and the door slides shut behind him before you can find the words to reply. You’re left staring at the closed elevator doors, your chest heaving and your hands still trembling around the pen, the echoes of Joe’s taunting voice ricocheting in your mind.

And for the first time in days, the silence feels even louder.

The days drag by, and every one of them feels heavier, weighed down by Joe's words. They hang over you, echoing whenever you try to ignore them, seeping into your thoughts when you're with Wes. The way he holds your hand, the way he smiles politely at your jokes, the way he never raises his voice or teases you too hard—it’s all safe. It’s what you thought you wanted. But now, thanks to Joe, it’s all starting to feel empty, like a shell with nothing inside.

As if to make matters worse, Joe's been louder, more present, and more irritating than ever. He’s upped his game, bringing a new girl home almost every night, the kind who giggle just a little too loud in the stairwell, whose heels click sharply against the tile floors, waking you and Ella up in the middle of the night. You hear them laughing through the paper-thin walls, their voices carrying long after you wish they’d shut up. Ella throws a pillow at the wall one night, groaning in frustration, but you just lie there, staring up at the dark ceiling, the annoyance mixing with something else—something you refuse to name.

And then Wes’s birthday sneaks up on you, like a storm you’d been pretending not to see on the horizon. Everyone's talking about it—the party of the semester, hosted at his parents’ mansion on the outskirts of Baton Rouge. You know it’s a big deal. Wes’s parents are the kind who throw events instead of parties, the kind where everyone’s wearing their best, and you’d feel out of place if you weren’t on Wes’s arm. You spend way too long picking out your dress, ignoring Ella’s teasing smile as you change twice and then settle on something classy, something you think Wes’s parents will approve of.

The mansion is even more extravagant than you expected. Tall, stately, and glowing with warm light spilling from every window. A string quartet plays softly near the entrance, and there’s enough champagne to drown in. It’s a perfect picture of Southern elegance, the kind of party where everyone’s on their best behavior and no one dares spill a drink on the white marble floors.

You’re almost able to relax, standing with Wes as he introduces you to old friends and relatives, his arm around your waist like you’re some kind of prize. But then, from across the room, you catch sight of someone familiar stepping through the grand double doors, and the air goes still.

Joe. And he’s not alone.

On his arm is a girl who looks like she’s stepped straight out of a beauty magazine—perfect curls cascading down her back, a dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, and a pageant smile that could light up the whole room. She’s everything you’re not: polished, pristine, and undeniably beautiful. And Joe’s leaning in close to her, whispering something that makes her laugh, the sound light and carefree, echoing above the music.

Your heart sinks. You should have known he’d be here. You should have known he’d show up with someone like her.

The moment he walks in, it’s like the temperature drops. You feel him scan the room, his gaze sliding over the crowd until it lands on you. There’s a flicker of recognition, a half-smile that tugs at his lips, and for a second, you swear he’s going to make a beeline for you, but then he turns to his date, all easy charm and confidence.

You look away quickly, swallowing down the hot, bitter twinge of jealousy that rises in your chest. Beside you, Wes is oblivious, laughing with some cousin or another, completely unaware of the storm that’s building in your mind.

The party moves on, but you can't shake the weight in your chest. Every time you turn around, Joe is there—always in your peripheral, laughing with his date or effortlessly sliding into conversations with people he’s never met, commanding attention without even trying. And it’s driving you mad. You hate that he’s here, hate the way his presence seems to seep into every corner of the room, hate that you can’t stop looking for him, even when you don’t mean to.

Wes’s parents announce dinner, and you find yourself at a long table, perfectly set with silverware that you don’t even know how to use properly. Wes is on your left, chatting away, and you force yourself to smile and nod at the right moments, though your gaze keeps drifting over his shoulder. Joe is at the far end of the table, but his eyes meet yours—bright and full of something that feels like a challenge. He raises his glass in your direction, and you don’t miss the way his date practically glows under his attention, leaning into his side.

You grit your teeth, focusing on Wes, who’s completely unaware of the way your stomach is twisting. He’s sweet, attentive, a perfect gentleman, and you wish you could ignore the itch under your skin, the restlessness that grows with each passing minute. But it’s there, burning hotter every time you catch sight of Joe, laughing too loud or leaning in too close to whisper in his date's ear.

By the time dessert is served, you’re practically vibrating with frustration, and Wes’s voice is starting to blur into the background. He’s telling some long-winded story about his summer at the family lake house, but all you can think about is how easy it would be to just walk over to the other end of the table and—

“Hey, you alright?” Wes’s voice breaks through your thoughts, and you force yourself to focus on him, pasting on a smile that feels hollow.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, reaching for your glass of champagne and taking a sip that burns all the way down. He seems satisfied, squeezing your hand gently under the table, but his touch feels distant, almost suffocating.

And when you glance back at Joe, he’s watching you, his smile sharper than you remember. There’s a glint in his eyes that makes your skin prickle, like he’s waiting for something, like he knows exactly what kind of game he’s playing. His date is still chattering away, oblivious to the way his gaze keeps flicking back to you, like a tether he can’t quite cut loose.

You look away, your face heating, and try to drown out the feeling with another sip of champagne. But it's no use. The night has only just begun, and you already know—it’s going to be a long one.

You escape upstairs, the noise of the party fading as you climb the grand, spiraling staircase. It’s quieter up here, with the muted sound of conversation and laughter drifting up from below, and you can finally breathe a little easier. You’re not even sure what you’re doing—just that you need a break from the suffocating conversation, the polished smiles, and the feeling of being watched. Wes is deep in conversation with a teammate, and it was easy enough to slip away unnoticed. You tell yourself you're only going to the bathroom, but you don’t even bother finding one. You just wander down the hall, hoping to collect yourself, to calm the thudding in your chest.

But then, of course, you see him.

Joe, leaning lazily against the wall at the end of the hallway, like he’s been waiting for you. There’s no sign of his date—she’s probably downstairs, lost in the crowd—but Joe’s here, and he looks too damn comfortable, his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He gives you that infuriating half-smirk the second your eyes meet, like he’s been expecting you. Like he knows you’re going to stop.

“Lost?” he drawls, his voice a low, lazy tease, and you freeze, every muscle in your body going tense.

“No,” you snap, hating the way your heart skips when he pushes off the wall, taking a step closer. “Just getting some air.”

“From Wes?” he asks, eyebrows raising, and you can hear the taunt in his tone, the way he draws out the name like it’s a joke. “Or from this whole perfect little party of his?”

“None of your business,” you shoot back, but he’s closer now, and you hate how your breath catches, how the air between you feels thick and electric. He’s looking at you like he’s stripping away all the layers you’ve put up—the polite smiles, the careful charm—and seeing straight through to the part of you that’s restless and hungry for a fight.

“You know, I can’t tell if you’re actually enjoying yourself,” he says, his voice dropping lower, almost intimate. “Or if you’re just playing the role of ‘good girlfriend’ to make everyone happy.”

“Shut up, Joe,” you warn, but your voice is weaker than you want it to be, and he notices. Of course he notices. He takes another step, and suddenly he’s way too close, the heat of him radiating into the space between you, making it harder to breathe.

“Or is it that Wes is just…too boring for you?” he presses, and something snaps. You step forward, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble back a step, anger flaring white-hot in your chest.

“Why do you care?” you demand, your voice rising. “Why do you always have to ruin everything? You can’t stand seeing me happy, can you? You always have to get in the way—”

“Oh, please,” he cuts you off, his voice sharp with irritation. “Don’t act like I’m the one ruining things. You’re the one who can’t stop looking at me. You’re the one who’s pretending this perfect little relationship is enough for you.”

You don’t even think. You just react, stepping closer, your chest heaving with the force of your anger, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “You don’t know anything about me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you before you can stop them. “You don’t know what I want or what I need, so stop pretending like you have me all figured out!”

He’s laughing now, a low, mocking sound that sets your teeth on edge, and you want to hit him, to scream, to do something to wipe that infuriating smirk off his face. But then he’s had enough. Suddenly, he moves, quick as a flash, and before you can even blink, he’s grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up as if you weigh nothing, throwing you over his shoulder in one swift, effortless motion.

“Put me down!” you shout, struggling against him, but he just tightens his grip, carrying you down the hall like you’re some kind of rag doll. Your fists beat uselessly against his back, and you’re half-cursing, half-panicking as he ignores you, kicking open the nearest door and stepping inside.

The door slams shut behind him, and you barely register the darkened room—a guest bedroom, dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the curtains—before he’s setting you down, pressing you up against the wall with a force that steals the breath from your lungs. You’re too stunned to move, your back hitting the cold plaster, and suddenly his body is pinning you there, his hands on either side of your face, caging you in.

“Finally shut you up,” he mutters, his voice rough, and you feel a shiver run down your spine at the way his breath brushes your cheek, hot and fast. His eyes are dark, burning with something you’ve never seen before, and the space between you feels like it’s crackling, alive with an energy that makes your skin prickle and your pulse race.

“Why do you have to be such a—” you start, but he cuts you off, leaning in closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his chest pressing against yours. His mouth is inches from yours, his lips twisting into a wicked smile.

“Go on,” he taunts, his voice low and dangerous. “Say it. Tell me what you really think.”

You’re breathing hard, your anger warring with something hotter, something that’s been building between you for months, and you can’t stop yourself. “You’re an asshole,” you spit, your hands coming up to shove at his chest, but he doesn’t move. He just leans in, his nose brushing against yours, the air between you thick and suffocating.

“And you,” he says softly, his voice almost gentle, “are a liar.”

You don’t know who moves first—whether it’s him closing the distance or you surging up to meet him—but suddenly his mouth is on yours, hard and desperate, and you’re kissing him back like it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. The kiss is furious, full of all the things you can’t say, all the frustration and the longing and the anger that’s been building up for so long it feels like it’s going to explode. His hands are in your hair, his grip almost painful, and you’re clinging to him, pulling him closer, gasping into his mouth as he presses you harder against the wall.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers against your lips, his breath ragged, and you shake your head, too far gone to think, to lie, to do anything but pull him closer, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Shut up,” you breathe, and he laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin, before he kisses you again, deeper this time, slower, like he’s savoring the taste of your surrender. The room feels too small, the air too thick, and you know you should stop, you know this is wrong, but you can’t, not when his hands are sliding down your sides, not when his body is pressing into yours, not when he’s kissing you like he’s been waiting for this just as long as you have.

And then, suddenly, it’s too much. You push him away, your breath coming in short, harsh gasps, and he lets you go, stepping back with a grin that’s all arrogance and triumph. Your lips feel swollen, your face flushed, and you hate that you can’t stop looking at him, that you want more even though you know you shouldn’t.

“See?” he says softly, his voice maddeningly smug. “I do know you.”

The words barely have time to leave his mouth before you’re on him again, shoving him away from you, your hands hitting his chest with more force than you intend. He stumbles back a step, a flash of surprise crossing his face before his eyes harden, that infuriating grin vanishing. You’re both breathing hard, the air between you heavy with everything unspoken, with all the sharp words that have been building up since the day you met.

“You don’t know anything!” you snap, your voice cracking, and he just laughs, a short, humorless sound that makes your blood boil.

“You keep saying that,” he shoots back, his voice low and dangerous, “but here you are. Every time, it’s the same thing. You want me to stop? Then say it. Tell me to leave.”

You open your mouth to say exactly that, to tell him to go to hell and stay out of your life, but the words won’t come. They catch in your throat, tangled up with the truth you can’t face, and he sees it. He always sees it. His gaze softens, something like understanding flickering in those dark eyes, and it pisses you off more than anything.

“See?” he murmurs, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. “You can’t. Because you don’t want me to.”

“Shut up,” you whisper, but it’s too late—he’s already crowding into your space, his hand curling around the back of your neck, tilting your face up to his. You hate him for the way he’s looking at you, like he’s unraveling you with a single glance, like he knows exactly how to break you down, and before you can stop yourself, you’re surging up, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kiss him again, harder this time, angrier.

His arms come around you instantly, pulling you closer, and you hate that it feels good, that it feels right, even as you’re pushing against him, your nails digging into his shoulders. It’s a mess of teeth and tongues, the kiss desperate and furious, and you’re drowning in it, in the heat of him, in the way his fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp.

Then the door swings open, and you both jerk apart, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven pants. You barely have time to process what’s happening before you see Ja’Marr standing there, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. He looks at you, then at Joe, and lets out a long, frustrated sigh.

“Really, Joe?” he says, his voice laced with disappointment. “In the middle of Wes’s birthday party? Do you have a death wish or something?”

“Calm down,” Joe says coolly, like he’s not the least bit bothered, his gaze still fixed on you, as if daring you to run. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah,” Ja’Marr scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Talking, right. Because making out with your teammate’s girl is totally a normal conversation.”

You feel your cheeks burn, and you step back, smoothing down your clothes like you can erase what just happened. “This—this was nothing,” you stammer, trying to ignore the way Joe’s lips curl into a smirk at your flustered tone. “We’re done here.”

Joe just gives you a lazy, almost triumphant smile, like he’s won some unspoken battle, and turns to Ja’Marr with a shrug. “She’s got a mind of her own, you know,” he says, and you want to punch him, to scream, but Ja’Marr just shakes his head, looking equal parts disappointed and resigned.

“Whatever,” Ja’Marr mutters, grabbing Joe’s arm and pulling him out into the hallway. “You need to get your act together. Wes is going to notice if you keep pulling this crap.”

Joe’s eyes flick to you one last time, something unreadable in his expression, before he lets Ja’Marr drag him away. The door clicks shut behind them, and you’re left alone in the darkened room, your heart racing and your thoughts spinning out of control. You know you should follow them, that you should go back downstairs and pretend like nothing happened, but your knees feel weak, and it takes you a long moment to gather yourself, to steady your breathing.

By the time you make your way back down to the party, your face feels numb, and you’ve forced on the brightest smile you can muster. Joe is already back in the thick of things, his arm slung casually around his date’s waist, laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world. You want to be angry, to hate him for making it look so easy, but then Wes catches sight of you, his eyes lighting up as he excuses himself from his conversation.

“Hey, there you are!” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. You try to smile, but it feels fake, like your skin doesn’t fit right anymore. “Where’d you disappear to?”

“Just needed a minute,” you say, your voice sounding hollow even to your own ears. You’re about to say something else, anything to fill the awkward silence, when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye.

Joe’s watching you, his gaze flicking from your face to your mouth, and that’s when you realize—his lips are still stained with the faintest trace of your lipstick, a dark, telltale smear at the corner of his mouth.

Wes follows your gaze, and his smile falters, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Joe, what’s on your—”

But Joe cuts in smoothly, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his grin widening as if he finds the whole thing hilarious. “Guess I got a little carried away,” he says, his voice dripping with mock innocence, and you feel the ground sway beneath you as Wes’s arm tightens around your shoulders, his confusion shifting to suspicion.

“What’s he talking about?” Wes asks, his eyes narrowing, and you open your mouth to respond, to deny, to do something—but nothing comes out. Your voice has abandoned you, and all you can do is stand there, frozen, as Joe’s smirk deepens and he lifts his drink in a mocking toast, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Good party,” Joe says casually, his tone almost friendly. “Really enjoyed myself.”

You don’t remember what happens next—just the blur of faces, the noise of the party swelling around you, and the hollow ache settling deep in your chest as Joe turns away, laughing with someone else, like he hasn’t just blown everything to pieces.

Wes's smile is strained when he pulls you aside, away from the music and the crowd. There’s a tightness around his eyes you haven’t seen before, something almost defeated, and for the first time that night, you feel a genuine pang of guilt. This is the part you were dreading—the confrontation, the disappointment in his eyes. But instead of yelling, instead of demanding an explanation, he just looks... tired.

“Hey,” he starts softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t wanna make a scene, okay? But I think... I think maybe you should go.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words die in your throat. There’s no anger in his voice, just resignation, like he already knows the answer before you can even try to lie. You can’t tell if that makes it better or worse.

“Wes, I—” you begin, but he holds up a hand, a weak, defeated smile pulling at his lips.

“It’s okay,” he interrupts, and there’s something achingly kind in his voice, which somehow makes it hurt more. “I think we both know this... isn’t what you want. Not really.”

You feel relief flood your chest so suddenly that it’s almost nauseating, and that’s how you know he’s right. Because instead of being devastated, instead of scrambling to explain yourself, you just feel lighter. Like a weight you didn’t realize you were carrying has finally been lifted.

You reach out to touch his arm, but he steps back, shaking his head. “Don’t,” he says quietly, and you let your hand drop, nodding numbly. There’s nothing left to say. You don’t try to apologize; you don’t try to make excuses. You just turn and leave, the buzz of the party fading behind you as you slip out the front door, the cold night air hitting you like a slap.

The walk back to the apartment feels like a blur, your mind whirling with everything that just happened, everything you don’t want to think about. You don’t know if it’s the relief of being free from something you never truly wanted, or the shame of how it all went down, but by the time you reach your building, your hands are trembling and your breath is hitching.

You let yourself into the apartment, your eyes already burning with unshed tears, and you find Ella curled up on the couch, half-asleep in front of the TV. The moment she sees your face, though, she sits up, worry creasing her brow.

“Whoa, what happened?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep, but you don’t even know where to begin.

“Everything,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, and then it all spills out. You tell her everything—about Joe, about the kiss, about Wes’s sad, tired smile and the way he let you go without a fight. You’re talking so fast you’re stumbling over your words, your emotions a chaotic tangle of regret and relief and frustration, and by the time you’re finished, you feel completely wrung out.

Ella listens without interrupting, her expression shifting from shock to disbelief to sympathy as you pour your heart out. When you finally go quiet, she just sighs and pulls you into a hug, squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, and you don’t realize how much you needed to hear that until the tears start falling. She doesn’t tell you that you screwed up, she doesn’t lecture you about Joe, she just holds you while you cry, rubbing soothing circles on your back until the tears run dry.

By the time you pull away, your throat is raw, and you’re exhausted. Ella doesn’t say anything, just gives you a look that says she understands, that she’s on your side no matter what, and that’s enough. It’s more than enough.

But then, just as you’re wiping your eyes and trying to compose yourself, you hear it—a loud burst of laughter echoing through the thin wall you share with Joe’s apartment. It’s followed by the high-pitched giggle of a girl, and your stomach twists. Of course. Of course.

Ella catches the look on your face and scowls. “He’s such an ass,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “You want me to go bang on the wall and tell them to shut up?”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “It’s... it’s fine. Let’s just go to bed.”

You don’t even believe yourself, but you can’t deal with Joe right now, not after everything. So you go to your room, shut the door, and try to block out the noise. You tell yourself you don’t care. You tell yourself it’s over. But sleep doesn’t come easily, and all you can hear is Joe’s voice in your head, his mocking words echoing long after the sounds from next door have finally gone quiet.

Over the next few days, you try to fall back into a routine, but everything feels off-kilter. Wes doesn’t text you, and you don’t reach out, letting the silence stretch between you until it feels like a mutual understanding—something that was always going to happen. Ella hovers, supportive but careful not to push, and you appreciate that. You just need space, time to sort through everything.

Joe, however, is a different story.

You barely see him around the complex, but when you do, it’s impossible to ignore him. He’s still bringing home girls—more than ever, it seems—and they’re always loud, obnoxiously so, like he’s doing it on purpose, like he’s rubbing it in your face. And maybe he is. Maybe this is his way of proving a point, of showing you that he doesn’t care, that he never cared, and the worst part is... you don’t know if you care either. Or maybe you care too much.

One night, after a particularly sleepless stretch of listening to laughter and footsteps pounding through the walls, Ella finds you staring blankly at the ceiling, dark circles smudged beneath your eyes.

“He’s doing this on purpose, you know,” she says bluntly, her tone halfway between irritation and pity. “He’s trying to get to you.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, rolling over to face the wall. “It’s working.”

Wes’s birthday party fades into memory, and a few weeks pass. It’s easier to pretend you don’t care when you don’t have to face the fallout. You focus on classes, avoid places where you might run into Joe, and try to ignore the way your heart sinks every time you hear his voice next door.

Then, one Friday night, there’s a knock on your door. You’re half expecting Ella’s latest Tinder date or a package, but instead, you find Joe leaning against the doorframe, his usual cocky grin nowhere in sight. There’s something almost hesitant about the way he looks at you, and for a second, you don’t know what to say.

“Hey,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it catches you off guard.

“What do you want?” you ask, and you hate how defensive you sound, how you can’t help but put a wall between you.

Joe’s eyes flicker, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing down the hallway before he looks back at you. “Can we talk?” he asks, and you can’t tell if he’s asking because he wants to or because he thinks he has to. “Please?”

You hesitate, every part of you screaming to slam the door in his face, to tell him to go to hell. “Talk?” you echo, as though the very idea is laughable. “What’s there to talk about, Joe?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his hands still deep in his pockets. “I just—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. For once, he doesn’t look cocky or composed. He looks tired. “I screwed up, okay? I know that. And I just… I want to make things right.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Now you care about making things right? Weeks later? Where was this when you were busy humiliating me in front of everyone at Wes’s party?”

Joe flinches, and the sight of it sends a small, mean thrill through you. You want him to feel every ounce of the anger and hurt that’s been simmering inside you since that night.

“I was drunk,” he mutters, like it’s an excuse. “You know I didn’t mean half the shit I said.”

“Oh, so you only mean half of it?” Your voice rises despite yourself, and you take a step closer. “Which half, Joe? The part where you said Wes was too good for me? Or the part where you implied I’m some kind of charity case?”

Joe groans, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “That’s not what I meant! You’re twisting it—”

“I’m twisting it?” Your laugh is sharp, humorless. “No, Joe. I’m finally calling you out on your crap. You think you can just waltz in here, throw out a half-assed apology, and I’m supposed to forget how you treated me? Newsflash: I’m done being your punching bag.”

“Punching bag?” His voice spikes, and you can see his patience starting to fray. “Are you kidding me? You think I don’t care about you? That I’d say that stuff to hurt you on purpose?”

“Then why did you say it?” you snap, stepping closer until you’re almost toe to toe. “Why, Joe? If you care so much, why do you always find a way to make me feel like I’m not enough?”

He stares at you, his jaw tightening, his chest rising and falling as he tries to keep his temper in check. But then he snaps, his voice loud enough to make you flinch. “Because you drive me crazy, alright? You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s like I can’t think straight when I’m around you!”

You’re stunned into silence, your heart pounding in your chest. The air between you crackles with something electric, something you can’t name but can feel in every nerve of your body.

Joe’s eyes are blazing, his chest heaving as he takes a step closer. “You think I wanted this? That I wanted to feel like this about you? I didn’t, okay? But I do. And it scares the hell out of me.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry. “Joe…”

He shakes his head, his voice softening just a fraction. “I’m sorry, alright? For all of it. I just—I didn’t know how to deal with this, with you.”

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you is gone. Joe’s hands are on your arms, his grip firm but not rough, and you’re looking up at him, your breath catching in your throat.

Joe doesn’t step back. He doesn’t let the anger rise again. He stays close, his hands still resting on your arms, his grip grounding and firm. His gaze softens, something vulnerable breaking through the tension in his voice.

“You think I like being the guy who gets under your skin?” he asks, his voice low, but there’s no bite to it now. Only honesty. “You think I enjoy pissing you off just for fun?”

You stare at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift, the rawness in his tone. “Don’t you?”

Joe lets out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “No. That’s just the only way you ever seem to notice me.” His words hit like a punch to the gut, and your breath hitches. “If I’m not in your face, annoying the hell out of you, it’s like I don’t even exist to you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. He’s too quick, too honest, and you don’t have a defense ready for the truth.

“That’s why I invite them over,” he continues, and there’s no cockiness in the admission. Just exhaustion. “Those girls, the loud music, the stupid games—it’s not because I want them. It’s because I’m trying to get you to see me. To pay attention. Even if it’s just so you can yell at me.”

Your stomach twists, a lump forming in your throat. You want to stay mad, to cling to your anger like a shield, but it’s slipping through your fingers. Joe doesn’t stop; he steps closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“I don’t know how else to get through to you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m tired, okay? I’m tired of pretending like I don’t care when I do. So much more than I should.”

Your breath catches, and your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. You don’t know what to say, what to feel. Joe watches you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, his hesitation palpable. And then, before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

It’s not rough or demanding like you might have expected. It’s soft, tentative, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. His hands slide from your arms to your waist, anchoring you gently, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds back.

For a moment, you freeze, torn between the urge to push him away and the overwhelming need to lean into him. But then your walls crack, and you kiss him back, your hands clutching at the front of his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Joe pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. His breathing is unsteady, his expression a mix of relief and something deeper. Without a word, he steps forward, his hands tightening around your waist as he gently pushes you through the door.

You don’t resist. You can’t.

He closes the door behind him with a quiet click, then sweeps you off your feet in one swift, effortless motion. You let out a small gasp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carries you down the hall toward your bedroom.

“Joe…” you begin, but he silences you with a look—a look so tender, so unlike the Joe you thought you knew, that your words die on your lips.

By the time he lays you down on the bed, the anger and frustration from moments ago have evaporated, replaced by something else entirely. Something that hums between you like a live wire.

He hovers over you, his weight supported by his arms on either side of your head. His eyes search yours, silently asking for permission, for understanding. And when you nod, so small and uncertain, he dips his head to kiss you again, this time deeper, more sure of himself.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging gently as he trails his lips down your jaw, your neck, every touch making your pulse race. He’s careful, almost reverent, as if afraid to break the fragile moment you’re sharing.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—Joe Burrow isn’t the selfish, cocky guy you thought he was. Maybe, behind all the bravado, he’s just a boy who wanted you to see him. And now, you finally do.

Joe’s lips trail along the curve of your neck, leaving a warm, electric path in their wake. He takes his time, his breath hot against your skin, and every deliberate touch makes your pulse thunder louder in your ears.

His hands glide over your waist, fingers pressing lightly, almost teasing as they trace the hem of your shirt. You feel his smile against your neck when you squirm slightly beneath him, a soft laugh rumbling in his chest.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “No more yelling? No smart remarks?”

You swallow hard, trying to find some semblance of control, but the way his hands move, the way his lips hover so close yet don’t quite touch, leaves you breathless. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say to you right now,” you shoot back, though your voice wavers.

Joe chuckles, lifting his head to look at you, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I don’t believe that for a second,” he says, his thumb brushing over the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up. “You’ve always got something to say to me. Even if it’s just to tell me to fuck off.”

You glare at him, but it’s half-hearted, your resolve crumbling as he dips his head again, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I like it when you get all fired up,” he whispers, his tone teasing. “But I think I like this quiet side of you even more.”

You huff, trying to ignore the way your body betrays you, leaning into him despite yourself. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Joe smirks, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slides under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and you shiver at the contact. “Maybe,” he admits, his tone smug, “but you’re still here, aren’t you?”

You want to retort, to wipe that cocky grin off his face, but before you can, he shifts his weight, his lips capturing yours again. This time, the kiss is slower, deeper, and you feel the teasing edge in his movements as he kisses you until you forget whatever comeback you had planned.

His fingers inch higher, tracing light patterns on your stomach, deliberately avoiding the places where you want him most. It’s infuriating, how easily he has you unraveling, and when he pulls back just enough to smirk down at you, you let out an exasperated groan.

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, tugging at his shirt in frustration.

Joe leans down, his nose brushing against yours, his lips curling into a playful grin. “But you’re not telling me to stop.”

He shifts again, his hands sliding up to frame your face as he kisses you once more. His lips are soft but insistent, drawing you in until all you can focus on is him—his weight pressing you into the mattress, the warmth of his skin, the way his touch sets every nerve in your body alight.

“Say the word,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft but laced with a challenge. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You stare up at him, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. But the word never comes. Instead, you pull him down again, your fingers threading through his hair as you kiss him with all the pent-up frustration, anger, and longing that’s been building between you for weeks.

Joe groans softly, his hands sliding down your sides, his teasing touch giving way to something more intentional. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs against your lips, his tone smug but laced with something warmer, something that makes your stomach flip.

Joe's lips find yours again, the kiss deepening as his teasing facade begins to slip. His hands roam your body with more purpose now, fingertips pressing into your skin like he’s memorizing every curve. He nips lightly at your bottom lip, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Still hate me?” he whispers, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. He moves back slowly, before pulling off your leggings, his eyes never leaving yours.

You bite back a moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you pull him closer, your nails grazing the back of his neck, and the quiet groan he lets out is enough to make your pulse race.

The leggings are long forgotten now, leaving you exposed in your underwear. Joe chuckles softly, his breath fanning against your lips as he trails kisses along your jaw, then lower, his teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue follows, soothing the faint sting, and the combination has your hands fisting in his shirt.

“You’re not as tough as you act, you know,” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. His hands slide beneath your shirt, his palms warm against your bare skin as he pushes the fabric up slowly. “I think you like this way more than you’re letting on.”

“You talk too much,” you manage to gasp, but your retort loses its bite when his thumb grazes just beneath your ribs, sending a rush of heat through your body.

Joe pulls back just enough to tug your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. He takes a moment to look at you, his blue eyes dark and filled with something you can’t quite name, and for a second, the teasing smirk is gone, replaced by something softer.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard.

Your breath hitches, and you feel your cheeks flush under his gaze. Before you can overthink it, his lips are on you again, softer this time but no less insistent. His hands trace slow, deliberate patterns along your sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath the band of your bra, and you arch into his touch without meaning to.

Joe grins against your skin, clearly pleased with your reaction. “That’s more like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing lower as he presses kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and then to the edge of the fabric.

He pauses, glancing up at you as his fingers toy with the clasp, his expression both playful and questioning. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says again, his tone softer now, without the usual cockiness.

But stopping is the furthest thing from your mind. Instead, you pull him down to you, your lips crashing into his with a fervor that answers his unspoken question.

Joe groans against your mouth, his hands moving to unclasp your bra with surprising ease, and you feel the shift in his demeanor as his teasing gives way to something more raw, more urgent. His lips trail lower, leaving a path of heat in their wake, and every deliberate touch has your body humming with anticipation.

“Still hate me?” he asks again, his voice rough and teasing, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes as he looks up at you.

You reach for him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer. “Shut up, Joe,” you whisper, your voice breathless but firm, and for once, he listens.

Joe's smirk returns, but it’s softer now, laced with something warmer than his usual arrogance. He lets out a quiet laugh, the sound low and full of disbelief, as if he can’t quite believe where the night has led. But he doesn’t argue. Instead, he lets his lips and hands do the talking, his touch reverent but still filled with that undeniable fire that seems to burn between you.

He slowly pulls away, looking up at you with a small smirk before he gets up. Before you could start questioning him, he takes off his shirt and sweats swiftly, your eyes widening at his body.

Joe’s smirk deepens as he catches the way your eyes widen, lingering on his toned frame. His confidence seems to grow with every second you stay silent, your gaze betraying the sharp tongue you usually use to deflect him. He steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to drink him in.

“You’re staring,” he teases, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes burn with something more primal. “I knew you liked looking at me, but this is a new level.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat rushing to your cheeks gives you away. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter, trying to sound dismissive, but your voice wavers slightly, betraying the effect he has on you.

Joe chuckles, leaning down to brace his hands on either side of you, his face inches from yours. “Too late for that,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “You’ve already done it for me.”

Before you can fire back, he trails his hand down your side, fingers skimming over your waist and hip with maddening slowness. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, then another to the swell of your chest, each one softer than the last, as if he’s savoring the way you shiver beneath his touch.

You can feel his hardened bulge against your stomach, and you're just about done with his teasing. You need him, now. “Joe,” you whined as he pulls back with a smirk.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he says, his voice low and raw. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Before you can reply, his lips are on yours again, his kiss stealing whatever snarky comeback you might have had. His hands move with purpose, sliding over every inch of bare skin, and the slow, deliberate way he touches you has your body aching for more.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers against your lips, the words a quiet challenge. But you don’t. You can’t.

Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him with all the frustration and longing you’ve been holding back for weeks. Joe groans, the sound vibrating against your lips as his teasing slips away entirely, replaced by something deeper, more desperate.

“God, you’re impossible,” he mutters, his voice laced with both exasperation and awe. But his actions betray the truth—he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He finally pulls away, breathless as he gazes down at you, his eyes filled with adoration and lust. “I'm gonna fuck you, alright?” he mutters before leaning closer. “And for all those times you pissed me off, and annoyed me, I'll forget about all of that if I can just... hear you.”

You're caught off by the request and you almost think he's joking, but you're mistaken. He's dead serious. All you could was nod slowly in response and Joe leans away, pleased.

Joe’s control starts to slip, and it’s evident in the way his kisses grow hungrier, more urgent. His hands tremble slightly as they trail over your body, mapping out every curve like he’s afraid this moment will disappear. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide and his breathing uneven.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispers, his voice raw, the cocky edge completely gone. “You’ve been driving me insane for months.”

Then finally, he slowly peels off his briefs, and his large, hardened cock falls out.

Joe lets out a small groan as his head falls back, relief in his expression. His pink tip is already leaking with pre-cum. You practically faint at the sight, you couldn't help but let out a whimper. His hands find his cock before he slowly begins to pump it, his eyes finding yours again.

He spreads your legs open before leaning in, his lips finding yours as his hands lead his cock to your cunt. His forehead falls against yours as he slowly begins to insert himself, a heavenly groan leaving his lips at the feeling of your warm, tight walls.

You felt like you were being split in half, in the best way possible. You can't even describe how good his cock felt, he wasn't even a quarter inside of you, but you still felt like you were filled to the brim.

“O-oh, fuck, Joey,” you moaned as your swollen lips form an O, your head falling back onto the plush pillows. Now you understood why the girls in his apartment were so loud—they definitely weren't exaggerating.

His hands grip your hips firmly, pulling you closer as if he wasn't inside of you already. His lips crash against yours again, the kiss filled with desperation, like he’s trying to pour every suppressed emotion into it. It’s intoxicating, the way his need for you feels almost overwhelming, and you find yourself clutching at his shoulders, wanting to be as close as possible.

He bottoms you out slowly, and he tries to give you a second to adjust—he really, really tried. He just couldn't. He slowly started thrusting in and out of you, and before you could even process the change in speed, he was rocking his hips against yours like the world depended on it.

The bed was creaking loudly underneath the two of you, the only sounds that could be heard was your loud moans, his grunts of pleasure, and the sound of skin against skin.

His cock was dizzying, to say the least. It hit all the spots you swore nobody had ever reached, making you question all your previous partners. You couldn't even form a singular thought about anything else except for Joe's huge cock and the way he was making you feel.

“Joe!” You manage to gasp as he begins to pound into you impossibly harder, but he cuts you off with another kiss, groaning softly against your lips.

“Say my name again,” he demands, his voice husky and edged with desperation. He leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes you gasp as his hands spread your legs wider, pinning you to the mattress.

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, his kisses growing more frantic, more needy. His hands are everywhere, exploring, worshipping, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. The way he touches you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, leaves you utterly undone.

His words make your head spin, and you can’t find a response. You're too caught up in the way he was pounding into you, like a fucking animal.

But Joe doesn’t seem to care; he’s too caught up in you, his hips moving faster and faster until you're practically crying out loud. His hands roam your body as if he’s memorizing every curve, every inch of skin. There’s no pretense now, no games—just raw, unfiltered desire.

You begin to feel the knot in your stomach begin to form, tight and persistent. You begin to grip his shoulders even tighter, your head falling back into the pillow as you moaned.

“O-oh, fuck! I'm gonna cum, please.” You began rambling as your legs wrapped around his waist, his hips not faltering one bit—if anything, he began going faster.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” He grunted out, his own impending orgasm. “Cum for me, baby.”

That was all you needed. The knot in your stomach snapped violently, your whole body spasming as you cried out in utter pleasure. The orgasm washed over you perfectly as Joe's hips began to falter, and a few moments later, his cum spilled into you.

You both lie there, tangled in the sheets, your breathing ragged and your hearts racing as the room settles into a heavy, satisfied silence. Joe’s arm is draped lazily across your stomach, his fingers tracing light, absentminded patterns on your skin. The intimacy feels different now—softer, quieter, as if the storm that had built between you for so long had finally passed.

He exhales deeply, his chest still rising and falling against your side. “Well,” he says, his voice low and hoarse, “that was... long overdue.”

You glance over at him, your lips twitching into a faint smile despite yourself. “You think?” you reply dryly, the lingering warmth of the moment making it hard to muster the sharp edge your tone usually carries with him.

Joe turns his head to look at you, his hair mussed and sticking out in every direction, his cheeks still flushed. There’s that cocky grin of his, but it’s softer now, tinged with something you don’t think you’ve seen before—contentment, maybe. “Yeah,” he says, chuckling lightly. “So overdue I’m almost mad at us for waiting this long.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. His grin widens as he props himself up on one elbow, leaning over you. His gaze flicks across your face, and he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. “But hey,” he says, his voice taking on a playful tone, “now that I’ve finally got you right where I want you, I think it’s time to make this official.”

Your brow furrows slightly as you tilt your head at him. “Official?”

Joe nods solemnly, though the sparkle in his eyes gives him away. “Yup. A real date. No fighting, no yelling, no storming off. Just you, me, and a public setting where we try very hard not to tear each other’s clothes off.”

You snort, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Oh, is that so?”

“That’s so,” he replies with a grin, catching your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, his gaze softening. “Come on, let me take you out. I’ll even behave. Swear.”

You arch a skeptical brow, though the warmth in your chest betrays you. “Behave? You? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Joe leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Guess you’ll just have to say yes and find out,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but undeniably sincere.

You roll your eyes again, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Fine,” you say, trying to sound reluctant but failing miserably. “One date. But if you embarrass me, it’s the last one.”

Joe’s grin is blinding as he flops back down beside you, pulling you against his chest. “Deal,” he says, his voice full of triumph. “You won’t regret it. Best date of your life, guaranteed.”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he counters, his tone smug as his hand tightens around yours.

Maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Imma need this haah so I was watching the race yesterday and I heard Nando come on the radio to say he would have given in by now but he needs to do it for a few people etc and I’ve seen the video at the end of the race where he’s struggling to get out of the car I can’t send it if you haven’t seen it and was thinking of Nando x reader based around this. You know me throw some angst in there and lots of fluff please 🙏 your my favourite Nando writer I love your work ❤️

I am so sorry this took so long I have an exam today and just wanted to finish it before I went in!! i hope you like it :)

For you

Fernando Alonso had never been one to back down from a challenge or a fight.

It wasn’t in his nature.

He never caved, never gave up, no matter how overwhelming the situation or how drained he felt.

That was what made the Brazilian Grand Prix such a shock—not just to Aston Martin, but to you, especially.

You had been by Fernando’s side for over 10 years, and his wife for 7 of those.

You knew him inside out, perhaps better than anyone else. You knew how stubborn he could be, how relentless, especially when it came to the risks he took behind the wheel.

The race had been brutal.

The heat was suffocating, visibility was near zero in certain sectors, and the pressure to deliver was immense.

You’d been watching from the edge of your seat, every moment fraught with anxiety. You were praying to anyone who could hear, hoping for a safe race. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the fear that his age was beginning to catch up with him.

Fernando wasn’t the young firecracker he once was, yet he never showed any sign of slowing down.

To the media, to the world, he was as fit and strong as ever. But with you—he was different. With you, he didn’t have to wear that mask of invulnerability.

That day in Brazil, the race had pushed him to his limits. The physical exhaustion, the mental strain, the constant, unrelenting pressure to win—it all weighed heavily on him.

You had seen him on those mornings when he woke up groaning in pain, his back stiff from the wear and tear of years of racing, and you knew it wasn’t just the way he slept. You knew the strain his body was under, but he would never admit it. Never to the world, and never to himself.

Yet, despite it all, there was something deeper driving him forward. Something that kept him pushing when every muscle in his body screamed for him to stop.

Just before the race, you two had fought. It had been a long, tense argument, your voices raised in frustration. You had begged him, pleaded with him, “Fernando, you need to slow down. The risks you’re taking, they’re too much. I don’t want to lose you.”

But he had been defensive, angry even. His pride, his need to prove he still had it, had made him dismiss your concerns. “I know what I’m doing,” he had snapped, his voice cutting through the tension. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He had stormed off, leaving you with nothing but the echo of his words. But you knew, deep down, he wasn’t angry at you—he was angry at himself. Because even though he wouldn’t admit it, there was a fear in him now, a fear of not being able to keep up with the younger drivers. A fear of losing that edge he had worked his whole life to perfect.

But despite all of that, there was something else on his mind, something driving him forward when his body screamed for him to give in.

He'd heard it on the radio, his voice a low rasp as he pushed back against the exhaustion. "I would’ve given up by now, but I can't. I need to do this... for them. For a few people..." For you.

When the race finally ended, Fernando was barely able to stand. His body had been pushed to its absolute limit. The pain was overwhelming, and as he dragged himself out of the car, the world around him spun. His hands were trembling, his legs unsteady, and yet it wasn’t the physical exhaustion that alarmed you. It was the look in his eyes—defeat, vulnerability, a quiet acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, you had been right.

You were there before he could take another step, rushing to his side. You didn’t need to say anything—your arms around him, the steady pressure of your embrace, spoke volumes. You could feel the weight of his body as he leaned into you, his breaths shallow, strained. His voice was barely audible when he spoke.

"I don’t know how much longer I can do this," he whispered, his words thick with exhaustion, both physical and emotional.

You didn’t hesitate. "You can," you replied softly, but firmly. "You always can. But only if you let yourself breathe sometimes, Nando."

He didn’t answer at first. His fingers clenched around your shirt, his face buried in your hair as though trying to find solace in your presence. For a moment, the roar of the crowd, the flashing lights, everything else faded away. All that mattered was you and him, the two of you in that moment, holding each other together.

You stepped back slightly to look into his eyes, the exhaustion etched deep into his features. You cupped his face gently in your hands. "You don’t have to carry it all. Not alone. Let me help you. Let me in."

He finally met your gaze, his eyes shadowed with the weight of the race, of the argument, of everything he had been bottling up. For a brief moment, you saw a flicker of regret. His voice was small, apologetic, and raw. “I was wrong, about everything. You were right. I pushed too hard today. I… I can’t keep going like this.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You could see the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he had never let anyone see before. The fight in him wasn’t gone—it had simply shifted. Now it wasn’t about winning races or proving himself to the world, it was about finding balance, finding peace.

"You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Fernando," you whispered, your hand gently brushing his cheek. "Not to me. Not to anyone. Just… come back to me in one piece, okay?"

He nodded, a tear slipping from his eye, and for the first time in a long while, you saw the man who had been running on empty—tired, afraid, and so desperately in need of someone to hold him.

and you would always be there to do that.

[tinylilacbun]

I just had a thought for your new series.

Everyone in the obx kinda knows how Luke is but noone says anything. Maybe JJ shows up to babysit and he had a bruise/black eye or cut basically an obvious injury and toddler readers parents recognise what it's from and invite him to spend a few nights in their guest room under the guise of babysitting because they know he won't accept help

Feel free to completely ignore this, I literally just woke up and had the thought so I thought I'd share- :3

-a very shy mutual lol 😅

Omg hi my sweet moot!! Hope you like this :3

You're sitting on the living room sofa, wriggling your feet as you watch Bluey on the tv while eating your snack, occasionally seeing your parents pass by.

They're getting ready for their date and instead of whining and crying for them to stay you're giddy with excitement and can't wait for JJ finally to arrive.

You gasp when you hear the doorbell ring, jumping off the couch to run towards the front door barely reaching the handle you open it quickly, squealing at the sight of JJ.

JJ chuckles, your adorable face distracting him from the throbbing pain from the lingering bruises and cuts on his face that you luckily haven't noticed yet as you hug his legs.

"Oh, JJ, honey good you're here. We're almost ready to go. She already had dinner but still needs her bath before going to sleep." Your mother tells him as she puts on her coat while your father puts on his shoes.

"No problem, we'll manage this, huh?" He grins down at you.

She turns to face him, her smile fading at the state the teenager is in. Obviously your parents know about his father and the probably bad environment JJ is living in, your mother's heart aching at the sight before him.

JJ has a forming bruise on his cheek and cuts on his eyebrow and his bottom lip, but still smiling down at the little princess that's clinging to his legs. Your parents share a look, already figuring what must have happened.

"Hey, buddy, um we really got a lot on our plate the next few days and wanted to ask if you would maybe sleep here in our guest room for the rest of the week? It would really take some pressure from our shoulders knowing our baby is taken care of." Your father asks him, grabbing the car keys from their designed bowl.

"Uh, yea...sure." He says, not noticing the true intent of the request but agrees nonetheless, he could never say no to spending time with you. "You heard that, cupcake? We're gonna have a sleepover."

"Yay! C'mon Jay! I gots to show you m'new critter family!" You squeak, pulling at his hand to drag him to your room.

As soon as you both disappear from their sight your mother sighs. "I'm worried about him."

Your father nods, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. "Me too. But we can't do much since he won't accept it. I'm glad he agreed to stay, tho. Now, come on, let's give him some time to relax here."

You're happily showing him your new calico critter set that you got after your dentist appointment. Introducing each critter to him, you both sitting on the fluffy carpet of your room.

"And dis S'Jay 'cause he reminds me of you!" You smile, handing him the tiny figure, looking up at his face for his reaction you furrow your brows in confusion.

Without thinking you reach up to touch his cheek and JJ winces, gently taking your wrist and pulling it away from his face. "Don't touch it please, um...it-"

"Hurts? You got boo-boos?" You ask curiously and he nods, a small smile on his face at your innocent question.

"Yeah, but it's fine." He says, watching how you rush out of your room.

He gets up from the ground and follows after you, seeing you just as you're about to enter the bathroom and as he's about to enter you rush back out and bump into his legs, JJ grabbing your shoulders to keep you steady with a chuckle. "Careful there. Watcha got there?"

You motion for him to come closer and he leans down, not expecting you to suddenly place a bandaid on his cheek, grabbing another one from the colorful package that you place over the cut on his eyebrow.

JJ's face softens at the action, picking you up when it seems you were done with nursing his wounds. "Thank you..."

You smile at him brightly, leaning closer to press a kiss on each bandaid. "Kisses make me feels better."

His heart almost explodes at your cute gesture, letting you tuck your face in his neck as you wrap your arms around it he could feel a single tear slip down his cheek, grateful for having someone who doesn't question him or tells him that he should get help and do something about his dad.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

[official-cvntified-gay]

TEETH masterlist

pairing: rio vidal x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of murder, desperate lesbian, an attempt at writing a songfic

wc: unknown

note: been a minute since I uploaded. The song is Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer, I wrote this because I can't get the bridge out of my mind.

The moon hung high, a red sliver in the darkened sky, casting long shadows over the ancient magical forest. You and Rio Vidal walked in tense silence along the Witches Road, a treacherous path known only to those bound by magic. The air crackled with tension, every step a reminder of the unspoken words between you.

Rio was a force of nature beside you—sharp eyes glowing with an eerie green light, her aura suffused with the earthy scent of pine and decay. She was death personified, a Green Witch who controlled the cycles of life and death, yet here she was, fighting alongside you against the coven's trials. More like enjoying everything that's happening.

As you walked, memories of your relationship flooded your mind, as if the road itself was taunting you.

Some days you're the only thing I know, the only thing that's burning when the nights grow cold...

You glanced at her, heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid. How had things gotten so complicated between you? There were days when Rio was the only solid thing in your life, the one person you could count on. Yet lately, you felt her slipping away, like sand through your fingers. Every touch, every glance, was filled with a mix of desire and doubt.

“Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive,” you heard Teen, a younger witch from Agatha's coven, mutter under his breath. The fear was evident in his voice, but you had no room for fear now—not with Rio's penetrating gaze fixed on you.

She didn't say anything, but you could feel her judgment, her disappointment, simmering just beneath the surface. It was always like this—this push and pull between you, where one wrong move could shatter whatever fragile peace existed between you.

The scene shifts, a memory dragging you back to a time when everything between you and Rio was on the brink of breaking. Blood on your shirt, a black rose clutched in your trembling hand. You had just done the unthinkable—struck down members of your found coven to prove your loyalty to her.

You're looking at me like you don't know who I am...

Rio's eyes, usually so playful and full of dark humor, were devoid of warmth as she looked at you. "Why would you do this?" she asked, her voice a whisper filled with disbelief. She has your heart in her hands, only beating for her.

“I did it for you, Rio,” you said, your voice cracking. “To show you that I’m worthy, that I can be just as ruthless.”

But instead of the approval you were expecting, all you got was her back as she turned away from you. Her silence was deafening, more cutting than any knife she so dearly loved. It broke something inside of you to see her like this, to see her reject the very darkness she had embraced her whole life.

“I never asked you to become like this,” she said softly, not even bothering to look back. “I never wanted you to lose yourself for me.”

The Witches Road stretched out like a serpentine nightmare, coiling around the dense forest with a darkness that seemed to swallow the moonlight whole. Beside you, Billy kept pace, his hands sparking with bursts of chaotic energy—a reminder of the unpredictable nature of his magic.

He shot a nervous glance your way. “I don’t know if we’re gonna make it out of here alive,” he muttered, eyes flicking to Rio, who walked ahead of you both with an air of calm that was unnerving.

You knew the danger of this known but not traverse path. The road had set this trial to test your fear, not just as a being but as someone daring to stand beside the Green Witch herself. Rio’s presence here was both a blessing and a curse. You wanted to prove yourself, to show her that you could face whatever darkness the road threw at you. But every step you took, every risk you embraced, felt like another misstep in her eyes.

“Stay focused,” you hissed under your breath. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and leaves, a testament to the presence of death lurking in every shadow. Rio thrived in this environment, her magic humming with a vibrancy that was both beautiful and terrifying.

You wanted her to see you the way she saw herself—capable, powerful, and unafraid. But no matter what you did, it was never enough.

The memories of past nights with Rio were a whirlwind in your mind.

Fight so dirty but your love's so sweet, talk so pretty but your heart got teeth...

Those nights were your sanctuary, where the walls between you both crumbled. She was everything you wanted and feared—her touch was fire, her whispers like venom laced with honey. The bed had become a battleground, a place where your love was tested with every kiss, every desperate plea for her to stay.

You could still feel the ghost of her fingertips tracing patterns on your skin, her voice low and dangerous. “You think you can win me over with this?” she had asked, her breath hot against your ear as her hands tightened around your wrists. “You think I’m yours to control?”

You were never sure if she was truly asking or if it was just another one of her twisted games. But you played along, willing to give her whatever she wanted, even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

The aftermath of those nights always left you breathless, the line between love and hate blurring into something unrecognizable. Yet, despite the uncertainty, you couldn’t let go. You were addicted to the thrill of it, the way she could break you down only to build you back up again with a single touch.

Your mind was pulled back to the blood-soaked memory of your betrayal. The coven members had stood no chance against your beyond earth-fueled magic. You did it all for her, thinking that proving your ruthlessness would finally earn you a place by her side.

But Rio had been horrified. She had walked into the clearing, the scent of iron thick in the air, and looked at you as if you were a stranger.

“Why would you do this?” she demanded, her voice breaking. The playful, sarcastic edge that usually colored her words was gone, replaced with something raw and vulnerable.

“Because I love you,” you had shouted, tears burning in your eyes. “I thought this was what you wanted. I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Rio interrupted, her eyes flashing with anger. “I never wanted you to become a monster for me. I loved you for who you were, not for what you thought you needed to become. You are life, you give but you can never take.”

Her words cut deeper than any knife. You had done the unthinkable, crossed lines you never imagined, all in the name of love. But instead of winning her heart, you had pushed her further away.

The weight of your actions hung heavy between you, a barrier that no amount of passion could break.

The Witches Road began to twist and warp, the shadows growing longer, almost sentient in their movements. The forest around you seemed to come alive, responding to the rising tension between you and Rio. You could feel the seven's magic, testing the limits of everyone's strength and resolve. Billy kept up, his chaotic magic flaring with nervous energy, but you could tell he was close to breaking. You knew who he was.

Rio remained calm, her steps confident as if she was walking through her own garden rather than a death trap set by the rage-filled witches. Yet, you knew her better than that. You could see the way her fingers tightened around the hilt of her knife, the only sign of her unease.

Sometimes you're a stranger in my bed... don't know if you love me or you want me dead. Those thoughts echoed in your mind as you walked beside her, wondering if this journey was another test, another way for her to see if you could survive the darkness that clung to her like a second skin.

Suddenly, a swarm of cursed roots burst from the ground, aiming to ensnare you. You reacted on instinct, flames bursting from your palms, incinerating the twisted vines before they could reach you.

Rio merely watched, her eyes flicking between you and the chaos unfolding around you. Was she waiting for you to fail? Or was she simply testing you again, pushing you to prove that you were worthy of the power you claimed to have?

“Don’t just stand there, Rio!” Billy shouted, desperation tinging his voice. But Rio merely tilted her head, her eyes locking onto yours.

“Show me what you’ve got,” she whispered, a challenge in her tone. The others looked at her in confusion but kept to themselves.

You didn't hesitate. You unleashed a wave of energy that rippled through the forest, tearing through the darkness like a blade. For a moment, there was silence, a stillness that made your heart pound. Then, slowly, a smile spread across Rio's lips, one that sent a shiver down your spine.

“That’s more like it,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

The seven's ambush had only strengthened your resolve. But the real battle wasn't with the witches surrounding you—it was with Rio herself.

Push me away, push me away, then beg me to stay, beg me to stay...

It was always like this with her—a constant push and pull that left you breathless, aching for more even when you knew it could destroy you. You turned to her, your chest heaving with exertion and something else, something deeper.

“Is this what you want?” you demanded once the seven disappeared from the road, your voice raw. “To watch me fight, to see if I’m worthy of you? Or are you just waiting for me to fail so you can prove that I’m not enough?”

Rio's eyes flashed, her playful demeanor dropping. For a moment, you saw a glimpse of vulnerability, a crack in the armor she always wore so tightly. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the familiar, teasing smirk that drove you insane.

“You think that's what I want?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re the one who’s always trying to prove something.”

The accusation stung because it was true. You had spent so much time trying to show her that you could match her darkness, that you were worthy of her love, that you had lost sight of who you were in the process.

But there was no time to dwell on it. The ground beneath you rumbled, the forest coming alive with a new wave of attacks. The coven was relentless, determined to crush you both, but you were ready. You fought with everything you had, drawing strength from the anger and frustration that had been building inside you for so long.

And when the dust settled, you were left standing in the wreckage, your chest heaving, your eyes locked onto Rio's.

“Is that enough for you?” you whispered, the question hanging in the air between you like a challenge.

Rio didn't answer. Instead, she stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a single breath. Her lips were on yours before you could react, the kiss searing, filled with all the anger and passion that had been simmering between you for so long.

The scene shifts once again to a hauntingly familiar memory—a bloodied clearing, a rose wilting in your hand. You had done the unspeakable to prove your worth to her, to show that you could embrace the darkness she thrived in. But instead of admiration, all you had found was her disappointment.

Rio had stood there, her eyes like emerald fire, not with pride but with something that felt dangerously close to heartbreak.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she had said, her voice breaking through the haze of adrenaline and regret. “Hurting others just to prove something to me? That’s not who you are. That’s not who I want you to be.”

“But I did it for you,” you had pleaded, desperation coloring your voice. “I thought if I showed you how far I could go...”

Rio had shaken her head, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips, bittersweet and sad. “Oh sweetheart, I never needed you to prove anything. I loved you because you were different, because you're my opposite yet we complete each other.”

Those words had cut deeper than any wound, leaving you to question everything you had done, everything you had become. And now, as you stood on the Witches Road, facing yet another trial, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still trying to prove yourself, still trying to win her approval.

[lvlybin]

ain't you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch?

summary   ༝༚༝༚ … ZB1 & princess treatment

preferences ! ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა    ۫  ੭̲    제비스 x 𝓯!reader ⊹ cw none ( library )

✉️ sorry for kind of disappearing! I’m back to writing and I’m finishing up some works to post soon. I was cleaning out my drafts and found this <3 hope y’all enjoy

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓙iwoong ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

tries his best to be domestic with you

Being in love with Jiwoong is like something out of a fairytale. He is truly such a genuine and innocent person that your well-being and happiness is always his priority. And with those things in mind, it’s almost second nature for him to be domestic with you, at least, to the best of his abilities. Princess treatment to him is pampering you to the fullest and making you feel like you might as well be married to him already. Nights where he’s cooking while you’re sitting at the counter watching as he does his best to make you both a meal are a must. He’d have romantic jazz playing in the background and of course, he’s going to pour you a drink without you even having to ask. Jiwoong will do all the chores you don’t want to do: laundry, the dishes, etc. Even if you don’t live together yet, he’s constantly trying to show you why it would be such a great idea for you both to share a space. As if you don’t already know how great it would be, because he loves you more than anything else and wants to be around you all of the time.

only takes you on romantic dates

This version of princess treatment you weren’t even aware of until you were both lounging on the couch and Jiwoong says something along the lines of: “We haven’t gone on a date in a while”. And you look at him confused because you had just gone to Barnes & Noble together for practically a whole afternoon, only for him to say: “That’s not a real date”. Jiwoong only considers it a date if you’re being spoiled by going to a fancy restaurant or doing something romantic like having a picnic on the beach. While it’s nice to have little hang-outs now and then with him–going out to lunch together or running errands together, he genuinely will only have the best for you, and that includes thought-out and thoroughly planned romantic outings.

helps you get dressed

If you’re in a relationship with Jiwoong, he does not want you lifting a finger. While he’s sure you love having your independence, he can’t help but want to consistently do things for you. Including helping you get dressed. If you ask for his opinion on an outfit, he will give you it without sugarcoating. If you want him to pick out an outfit for you, he will be on his feet and picking out different things for you to try on and piece together with his help. But his favorite is without a doubt zipping up your dresses. Something about the small gesture is so intimate to him. The way he brushes your hair to the side and lets one hand rest on your waist while the other pulls the zipper up with him finally leaving a soft kiss on the nape of your neck… It makes him feel like he’s doing a good job caring for you. And the fact that you want him to do something that’s a part of your everyday routine, even if it’s getting dressed, genuinely makes him feel so included and involved with your life.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗ao ﹙𝔃.﹚ㅤ

will try / do anything or activity you want to do

Getting princess treatment from the princess himself is the highest privilege you could receive as his girlfriend. And necessarily, the things he does as ‘Princess Treatment’ are things he just thinks any good partner would do. So when you come running to him with a craft on TikTok you want to try or a new place you want to visit, he’s never going to say no. I think that despite being an introvert he really does enjoy trying new things and his favorite thing to do would be to try new things with you. Even if he honestly doesn’t really want to / think it doesn’t sound fun in the beginning. There have been times when you’ve mentioned something you’ve done with Hao to the other members and they’ve been in shock that he was willing to do it with you despite him saying no to doing it with them the previous day. He may pretend to complain a little, but he will ultimately do anything to see you happy.

compliments all day every day

Hao has concluded that if you’re dating him, you must love attention as much as he does. You at least have to know that you’re just as pretty, if not more, as him. He wants to see you blossom, to see your confidence grow when you’re with him, so he gives you as much of his attention as possible–and that includes compliments upon compliments. They start small so he can get you used to receiving such a large amount in a day, but once you’ve gotten past the stage when you blush shyly and muster a small “Thank you”, he’s praising you in practically every sentence he speaks. Whether he's saying that you did something well, that he likes your hair that day, or randomly mentioning how funny or kind you are–he’s making sure you know how special you are. In fact, he’s started challenging himself to see how many synonyms of Beautiful he can use on you every day.

loves doing your makeup and skincare, lets you practice your makeup skills on him too

It’s no secret that Hao loves taking care of himself, making sure that he looks his best every day. So when you began dating him, you honestly weren’t super surprised that he extended that trait to you as well. You feel like his little doll at times, with the way that he’ll sit you on the bathroom counter in the mornings after you’ve brushed your teeth and gently push your hair back to do your skincare routine. He just wants the best for you–is what he claims as he buys hundreds of dollars worth of completely new products for you to use, saying that he knows what’s best for your skin and what will enhance your appearance the most. He’s right, of course. And if you ever tell him that you miss doing your makeup (jokingly, because who wouldn’t want him to do their makeup every day?), he’ll sit in front of you and have you do his makeup. Kind of a big deal! But even if it looks bad, he won’t tell you, because you’re his princess and he knows that you did your best :P

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓗anbin ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

treats you like his wife

Everyone knows that Hanbin is the greenest flag of a man to walk this earth and when you started dating him, it was like you both completely skipped the dating stage and went right to being a married couple. He is so committed to you, it’s actually insane (once again, normal basis of a relationship, but it’s Hanbin so). I’m talking doesn’t even look at any other woman, spends the majority of his time with you, is talking about you to his parents–all of it. You are his future and he makes that clear to you. Sometimes you feel like you’ve already started along the path of becoming that rich wife who goes to pilates classes and has two well-behaved children and doesn’t have to lift a finger because with Hanbin and the way he takes care of you, marriage does seem like the only option. Your relationship is the most important thing to him, and he doesn’t hesitate to put it above everything and make sacrifices for it. Hanbin also always makes sure to check things with you first. Your opinions on his decisions matter because he already sees you as the person he wants to marry.

HUGE on flowers

When Hanbin asked you out, he brought you flowers. When you went on your first date, he brought you flowers. The day after your first date, he sent you flowers. You could honestly open a flower shop with how many bouquets he gives you on a weekly basis, not that you’re complaining. He’s the type to get you big bouquets for every date you guys go on and it’s a different flower every time. He knows your favorite flower of course, so even if the bouquet is a completely different flower than that, he’ll at least include one of your favorite flowers just because he wants to make sure that you know that he hasn’t forgotten. Hanbin also makes sure you know what each flower supposedly means, just because he thinks it’s cute. At some point, you have to ask him to tone it back a little, because he’s been getting you flowers every time he walks past a flower place and you’re worried about how much he’s spending on you. He’ll tell you not to worry because this little action he does is a way for him to express how much he loves you.

makes sure you’re safe 24/7

Your safety is something that’s always in the back of his mind. He knows you can protect and take care of yourself, but he thinks that you shouldn’t have to worry about that–that you should only be worried about what will make you happy. And you can leave everything else to him. I’m an enforcer of the ‘Hanbin buckles your seatbelt for you’ agenda because he loves taking care of people and I think that small things like that just make sense for him. It gives him peace of mind to know that you’ll be safe. The sidewalk rule is also another thing that he makes sure he does. He wants to eliminate any possibility of you being in danger and that includes watching your purse while you guys are at dinner to make sure nothing gets stolen, making sure your windows are locked before he leaves your apartment, always holding your drink, etc. Anything that may slip someone else’s mind will never get past Hanbin.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓜atthew ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

he’s the best active listener

It’s no secret that Matthew loves talking, so he knows how discouraging it can be when someone isn’t actually listening to you. And when you get comfortable around him, you don’t stop talking either. He wants you to feel comfortable, he doesn’t want that aspect to leave your relationship, so he never makes you feel bad or annoying for yapping. Matthew is genuinely happy that you feel like sharing things with him, even if it is your obscure little thoughts and he wants you to know that. He’s amazing at making you feel heard. He’s always asking small questions or making comments to show you that he was listening to everything you were saying. Even his body language–Matthew is nodding along and maintaining eye contact and actively reacting to your words. The point is, he wants to make it clear to you that your words do matter, and that you should feel comfortable talking his ear off.

has you both send little daily updates to each other

Both the updates he sends you and the ones he asks you to send him are for you. He wants you to know what he’s doing, not that you don’t trust him, but Matthew wants you to see that he’s constantly thinking about you. That you almost always have all of his attention. Plus, he likes receiving little comments from you about what he’s doing. He thinks it’s adorable. And then for you, he is truly interested in everything you do and wants to be involved. Matthew saves all of the pictures you send him (the ones you’re in) and has a little folder in his photos that’s reserved for your daily updates. Lowkey you both have separation anxiety, but he’ll never admit it. Matthew will just say that he’s giving you the attention that you deserve.

always is touching you when y’all are walking

Matthew likes physical affection and will take any scraps of touching you he can get. Including when you guys are just simply walking together. Holding your hand is nice, he likes the feeling of how small your hand is compared to his and it gets the point across to other people that you’re taken, but I think that there are other forms that he likes more. Honestly, I can see him wanting you to link your arm with his, making you feel like a princess while he carries your bags or something. He’s able to hold you closer to him and have a tighter grip on you that way as well. And he likes the feeling of you feeling up his arm even if you think that he doesn’t notice it :P He’ll guide you around with his hand on your lower back too. Steering you away from people who might get in your way and softly rubbing on the area to make sure you know that he’s there. Piggyback rides and literally just carrying you are things that he likes doing as well. In his opinion, you should be carried everywhere, so he’s happy to do so.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓣aerae ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

prioritizes you no matter what

Kind of already touched on this with Hanbin, but I feel like it fits Taerae so well. He always wants you to talk to him and feel comfortable with him because I feel like when he does fall in love and get to the point where he trusts them with everything, a lot of his life will revolve around you. Even if you don’t notice it, he’ll do all of these little things with you / for you / to you that he does for no one else, which shows how you’re the only thing on his mind. Whether that’d be clinging to you at all times, letting you talk even if he’s in the middle of explaining something, keeping the things you like and dislike in the front of his mind… Basically, his thoughts revolve around making sure you’re happy and comfortable whenever you’re with him. You always make sure that he’s both of those things, so it only makes sense that he makes you his top priority.

never lets you feel embarrassed

As mentioned before, I think that comfort is a huge part of any relationship Taerae is in. He has a hard time trusting people, so establishing that trust requires comfort and when he feels comfortable, the pampering for his partner is quick to follow. That being said, if there’s ever an instance where something happens to you in public, like you spilled something on Taerae that’ll stain or you let out an embarrassing noise, he WILL say that it was him and or cover for you. “Oh yeah, I spilled this on myself, I should be more careful”, “That was me! Sometimes my voice can get really high”, etc. He would do anything for you, and that includes maybe feeling a bit of embarrassment for you. As long as you’re okay, then he’s okay with doing anything. Sometimes he lovingly teases you, but all of his efforts are lighthearted, and if you ever appear embarrassed by his words, he’ll say that he was joking and that all of the words he’d said were made up. And god forbid someone else tries to embarrass you. Taerae has no problem with speaking up and calling people out, especially when it comes to you. He’s your number one defender and anyone that says anything bad about you or to you will end up being the humiliated one.

you’re his passenger princess

We’ve got our passenger princess victim. Willing victim, at that. Maybe I’m just obsessed with the fact that Taerae can drive, but him driving in Camp ZeroBaseOne lives rent-free in my head T-T Anyways… when you’re in his car, you’re not lifting a finger. Don’t bother with trying to open the car door, Taerae will do that for you happily, making sure you’re comfortable and your seat is the way you like it before he gets in the driver’s seat. Even before you get in his car, he’ll have already gone to get you a drink, and if it’s not the drink you wanted (which is rare because he has your drink order memorized), he’ll gladly go get you the drink you wanted no matter how much you protest. The aux is yours, he likes listening to your music more anyway, and he wants you to leave your things all over his car. Whenever anyone else gets in the passenger seat, they aren’t allowed to move your things around (hair clips, spare makeup, little knick knacks you’ve accidentally left, etc.) or Taerae will probably make them sit in the back. He wants to let everyone know he’s taken. In fact, you could probably carve your name into the passenger seat. Bro does not care!

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓡icky ﹙𝓼.﹚ㅤ

always treats you gently

Ricky is already a soft-spoken person around most people, but he usually gets louder when he’s with people he’s comfortable with / with his friends. And of course he has those moments with you, but usually, he’s treating you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. You bring out the side of him that feels the need to protect and take care of no matter your age or any other difference. He’s so so patient with you. Whenever you don’t understand something, no matter the scenario, he’ll take his time to explain it to you so you don’t feel left out, confused, or anything else. But he ALWAYS makes sure that you don’t feel like you’re bothering him by asking questions. He’s happy to help you and take care of you. And his friends have never seen him act the way he does with you around anyone else. Even though they tease him for it, they think it’s genuinely sweet how he leans closer to you and speaks in a soft voice so you’re the only one who can understand him, and how he sticks by your side with a hand gently placed on your lower back to guide you.

is TOTALLY okay with being your accessory… supports it 110%

Ricky knows that if he’s with you out and about in public, he has to look his best. Not for his own sake (kind of his own sake, he wants you to always find him attractive), but for your sake. He wants to look like he’s good enough to be your partner and he wants you to be proud that you’re dating him. Obviously, you are, and you never hesitate to tell him that, and he believes you, but he can’t help it sometimes. You know those TikToks where it’s the girl in the front of the video and her boyfriend’s standing behind her and everyone’s like “omg he’s literally your accessory”? Yeah, that’s Ricky. And the funny thing is, he’s so proud of it. He’s honored to be your “accessory,” even though you would never call him that. He insists that he’s there to make you look better, that you both look so good together that it’d be impossible for others to not look at you both and get just the tiniest bit jealous of your relationship.

surprise dates surprise dates surprise dates

Random acts of affection are important for him. They’re one of his favorite ways of showing you how much he loves you because I think Ricky is someone who believes that actions hold more meaning than words. It’s become routine for him to text you in the morning, telling you when he’s picking you up and how nice you should dress. He’s actually really good at planning things out. Ricky keeps track of when you’re free or knows what kind of date he should take you on / not take you on (how much time he has, if you have to be back for something, etc.) At first, you hated how he would surprise you with them, but eventually, you got used to it. And now, you look forward to whatever date he’s planned without the smallest amount of worry and the largest amount of trust. This ties in with Ricky’s love for being the one taking care of you, and he knows you, so he knows what activities you would enjoy and what you wouldn’t. You don’t have to lift a finger if Ricky can help it.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖yuvin ﹙𝓴.﹚ㅤ

takes quiet moments together

You get to see every side of Gyuvin and he gets to see every side of you. So in the moments where you don’t want to talk, needing to just sit in silence, he makes sure that you both enjoy those moments as well. And enjoying each other’s presence is so important to him. He knows it brings you a sense of peace, so he’s happy to hold you as you lay your head on his chest–scrolling on your phone or reading a book, or simply just laying there. Gyuvin can tell when you need to recharge your social battery, and therefore he’s gotten good at getting you out of situations so you can be by yourself. Or, more like be by yourself with him. He never forces you to talk to him or makes silence feel awkward. And if you don’t want to talk, but don’t want to sit in silence, he’ll just talk about random things for you to listen to. These quiet moments are important to you, but they’re also important to him, and he never hesitates to study your behavior and determine if that’s what you need right in that moment.

shopping sprees

I firmly believe that Gyuvin is the one who will take you on shopping sprees literally for fun (for him). He LOVES spoiling and spending money on you even if he doesn’t act like it. Whenever you mention you’re going shopping, he’s up on his feet in an instant and saying that he wants to come to keep you company. But then, when you actually start the shopping, he’s the one picking out clothes and jewelry and stuff for you. “Oh this would look so good on you” / “You don’t have to get it, I just want to see you try it on” / “We can keep some of these clothes with me if you don’t have the closet space”. It’s like the concept of money doesn’t exist to him when it comes to you, so be careful so much as even glancing at something because Gyuvin will be picking it up and carrying it around until it’s time to check out for you even if you insist you don’t want it. Sometimes he doesn’t even mean to get you so many things, he just thinks you look good in everything and anything and the rest of the world should be as blessed as him to see you in the clothing you try on. Also, he definitely gets you like 30 presents on your birthday.

is always posting you on his social media

Gyuvin has multiple albums in his photo app just for you: date nights, holidays, mornings, etc. He likes to go back and look at them and the pictures of you just make him so happy that he can’t help but want to share them with as many people as possible. Imagine how surprised you are when random Instagram stories or posts of you come up. You always think it’s the sweetest thing that Gyuvin wants to share your relationship with his friends through social media and that he wants to document some things in that way, but more often than not, they’re pictures you weren’t even aware he took. None of them are ever bad though? It’s a way to show you how he sees you through his eyes. The pictures are always so beautiful, and he tells you that he doesn’t even have to try to get such pretty photos–you’re just that naturally beautiful.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓖unwook ﹙𝓹.﹚ㅤ

brags about you to everyoneeee

You being his girlfriend is one of Gunwook’s best achievements. And EVERYONE knows it too. The topic of you pops up at least once in every conversation he has, whether you’re there in person or not. He gets so proud of everything you do, no matter how big or small. In fact, you could literally wake up in the morning and he would deem that something to share with people. You can do no wrong in his eyes, and sometimes, he gets so excited over the fact that you’re his that he has to share it with people. His friends might get a little annoyed because of how often he talks about you, but he can’t help it :( He could talk about you and how amazing you are for hours and not get bored. Gunwook hasn’t told you about his love for bragging about you, but the way he looks at you when he prompts you to tell other people about the things you’ve achieved or done recently, you still get a good sense of how proud he is to be yours.

carries things around for you

This is in the sense of always having things like hair ties for you, extras of the perfume you wear in his bag, if you have some kind of medicine he has that in his bag too… It was a habit that slowly built as your guys’ relationship progressed. Gunwook would always hold things for you whenever you would go out on dates (your lipgloss) and eventually, his pockets weren’t enough for the things he would request to take from you to free up your hands to hold. So, he started carrying a bag around. It was helpful for him, sure, but he did it for you. Now, said bag is full of items that you might need on a day-to-day basis. Miniatures of your makeup, snacks that you like, everything mentioned before, and others! Gunwook loves carrying things around for you–it’s less for you to worry about and he enjoys taking care of you, even in the smallest ways.

lowkey is always matching his outfits with yours

Okay, I don’t know if this qualifies as princess treatment but… I can just see Gunwook asking you for an OOTD and then showing up in a similar outfit to yours, saying “woahhh that’s weird :3”. He loves matching with you in the smallest ways: matching jewelry, the same color scheme, the same style of pants, the same shoes. The list goes on. It’s a really easy way to let people know he’s taken and he thinks it’s just the cutest thing ever when you guys match. Matching outfits is a pretty common thing between couples and Gunwook just wants to do couple-things with you :( He’s always wanting to show you off that’s all and wanting to relate every part of his life with you. Also, the matching of the outfits happens unintentionally a lot too, which only makes him even more giddy.

ㅤ ⎯⎯ㅤ 𝓨ujin ﹙𝓱.﹚ㅤ

you’re the only one in his eyes

You are the only girl to exist in his eyes and he makes that clear. Sometimes, you have to remind him that he can actually talk to other girls without one-word responses and looking like he’s about to cry. But he’s just such a loyal person and you receive the majority of that loyalty. Yujin’s talking to everyone about you and asking for help with anything that he doesn’t quite know how to do. He just wants to make you happy (“Hyung, what should I get YN for her birthday?” / “I found this cute place to take YN, what do you think?” >.<). Anywho, he also will most definitely let you know in every way that you’re the only one for him / the only one he’s interested in. Yujin doesn’t believe in talking stages, he’s the kind of boy who’s learned from the romcoms and will get straight to the point of telling you he likes you. Because if he likes you, then that’s kind of a big deal with him, and he’ll not want to keep anything from you.

subconsciously picks up after you / cleans up after you even if you try to help

Yujin is constantly following you around, like a second shadow, a puppy–whatever you want to call it. He copies your movements sometimes, but more often than that, he’s cleaning up after you. It’s become a second-nature kind of thing to him. If you leave a wrapper from a snack you’re eating on a counter, he’ll get up and throw it away for you without you even noticing. And if your room is a little messy and you both are hanging out, he’ll get up from your bed and just begin to put things away while he continues talking to you. It’s sweet the way he knows where everything goes and how you like your belongings. That doesn’t mean that you just let him pick things up for you, though. Obviously, you can take care of yourself and clean up your messes, but if Yujin is around, it’s rare for you to actually be able to help. In the beginning, you tried your best to insist on helping him pick up after you both had made a mess in your kitchen while baking, but instead of accepting your help, he’d told you to sit at the counter so he could still talk to you while he worked. Yujin just likes being helpful, and maybe a part of him wants to show you that he can take care of you too.

buys you anything you want

I feel like this is something he would learn from Gyuvin, but Yujin wouldn’t be as obvious about it. If you mention wanting something, he would act like you were begging him to get it for you (“Are you really gonna make me get this for you?” / “I can’t keep buying things for you, YN”) even though you hadn’t even said anything about even buying it in the first place. Much less having him purchase it for you. Literally gives the “fine, *eye roll*, whatever” energy, but in a teasing way. Yujin doesn’t like making things easy for you, one of his love languages is teasing, but in the end, he wants to make you happy. And that includes the little things and pampering you by getting you small gifts. This treatment is most common with food or drinks. He would get you a snack before seeing you and then pretend that it was completely a coincidence: “They just happened to have your favorite drink at the vending machine too. Super weird” even though there’s only one convenience store that has that beverage so you know he went out of his way to get it for you :,)

[megumiluvv]

I Slept With My Brother’s Babysitter

Includes: Choso x (fem)Babysitter reader, new relationship (like an hour old), kissing, lots. Choso plays with reader’s boobs for a little, boob kissing, nipple biting (yeowch), reader’s boobs aren’t a specific size, body worship, Choso is uncut, handjob/fingering (both receiving), oral (both receiving), praise (always, it’s zero writing🙄), protected sex, like three orgasms, aftercare (yippee!!), sillies in love.

Masterlist

Read Part One Here!

Word Count: ~3k

A/n: Yayyyy, hopefully, this is good! As the title and “includes” mentions, this is smut, so if you don’t want to read that with this au, please skip over!! I’m unsure if I will write a male reader counterpart (I apologize if I don’t), but I hope you enjoy this! As always, likes and reblogs are appreciated!! (I love reading your tags) I think I like boobs. Please ignore how this is like, 2-3 months late, I had a huge slump and then got really busy (_ _;) this is BARELY proofread, I let Grammarly do most of the work :P

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The moment Choso’s apartment door clicks shut, you’re pinned against the wall as he presses his lips to yours, hands reaching to lock the door. He holds your waist and you whine into his mouth when he lowers them to squeeze at your hips.

Choso hears the desperate noise and freezes, looking at you. “I… I liked that noise…”

His mumbles make you blush, and you two kiss more. “Can’t-” kiss “-just say that, dummy…”

“Can’t say what?” He pulls back, oblivious to how easily you get embarrassed.

“… Never mind, keep kissing me.”

He happily accepts that and squeezes your hips again as your lips lock for another time. Your tongues swap spit and you two stumble to his bedroom, where he finally pulls away again, much to your disappointment. You frown and chase his lips as he kneels to untie your shoes and carefully pull them off your feet.

“You are so absolutely gorgeous, you know that?”

“…You are embarrassing…”

“Do my words bother you?”

“No, they fluster me…”

He chuckles and kicks off his own shoes, carefully reaching to take off his shirt. You watch with hungry eyes and he just laughs more.

“Waiting for something?”

“I- no! …Okay, maybe.”

He laughs and takes off his shirt to show off his toned torso. You’ve seen Choso’s body a few times before when he comes out of the shower with only a towel around his waist when you watch Yuji, and of course, you can’t help but sneak a few glances. He noticed this, obviously, but would never tell you that. He reaches to undo your cute top, making sure it’s set aside carefully, and then unclasps your bra with ease.

The moment Choso sees your supple breasts, he is awestruck. He carefully takes one into his hand and lightly squeezes, gauging your reaction. You seem to like it, so he gently massages your breasts, leaning to kiss your neck and suck marks that Yuji will innocently question when he comes home.

You whine into the crook of his neck as he sucks those pretty marks into your skin and caresses your hard, sensitive nipples. Your hands grip the waistband of his pants needily tugging them down. It’s now his turn to blush as his penis is already at full attention.

“Wow, does kissing get you that desperate?” You laugh.

“Don’t make fun of me…”

“Sorry, sorryyy, I think it’s kind of endearing.”

“How is this endearing?”

“Well, you got all excited because you were kissing me, right? Ever got that way from kissing someone else?”

“Uh, n-no, I haven’t…” He seems embarrassed by his excitement.

You just smile. “That makes me feel special.”

His heart flutters, he really can’t help it when your smile is so gorgeous and words so sweet. He kisses you more, holding you gently and carefully slipping off the rest of your clothes. He doesn’t move to touch you yet, and you don’t move to touch him, you two just continue to taste each other’s mouths while in the nude.

Choso’s hand slides down to your ass and he lightly squeezes where he has always wanted to. The skin is so soft, better than he has ever imagined and you hum against his lips, enjoying the possessive gesture. You lay back and he kisses down your chest, lightly trailing his hands up and down your body.

Choso gently kisses your torso, sucking little marks into the skin between your breasts. His free hand traces the areola on your right breast while he focuses his mouth on your left. Your pretty whines echo in his mind and fill the room, hands carding into his dark locks to lightly pull as he looks up at you with hooded eyelids. The gasp that escapes your throat when his teeth gently bite down on your nipple makes him dizzy.

“Ch-choso, I’m sensitive there!” You whine and tug harder at his hair.

He just hums and moves to the other nipple, giving the same attention to it. His saliva mixed with the air feels almost freezing on your poor nipple when he does switch. His hand tweaks and tugs at the reddened area, looking back up at you with love-drunk eyes. Choso reluctantly pulls himself away after a few minutes and returns to locking lips with you.

“You're so gorgeous,” he mumbles against your lips. “Beautiful body, soft lips, heavenly tits…”

“You haven’t even let me appreciate your body,” you whine, yet there’s no real complaint in your words.

He chuckles and traces your hips. “You’ll get there soon. Let me do one more thing, please.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He rubs your hips gently and drags his hands along your sides, watching your reactions. His rough thumbs feel so soft to you as if they were the only hands that existed. Or mattered, at least. Calloused fingers trace down your hips and slowly make their way to your mound, his middle finger tracing slow circles into your clit.

Satisfied hums escape your throat as he slowly yet expertly rubs your clit, spreading your folds and examining your pretty pussy. Soft kisses plant onto your hips and slowly make their way to your sweet core.

He almost cums just from tasting you. The dark-haired male licks a long stripe along your pussy before suckling your pretty clit. The gasp that escapes you makes it so much harder for him not to blow his load, you just taste so divine and sound so sweet. Your quiet hums quickly turn into desperate whines as Choso expertly eats you out. He ruts his hips against the sheets for some relief, focusing on sucking your sensitive little nub and making you release those cute noises.

“Y-yes, right there, Choso,” you whine and buck up into his mouth.

He just hums into your weeping cunt, the vibrations from his voice adding yet another sensation to your body. Choso’s hands grip your hips in place as he takes you with his tongue. His tongue spells his name repeatedly into your clit as he guides his middle finger to prod at your sopping hole. The male slowly pushes his middle and ring fingers in and curls them up, loving how your breath hitches as your body arches up more into his mouth when his fingers expertly find your g-spot.

He wants to laugh at how easily he understands your body. The slightest touch has your mind reeling and he is ecstatic to know he's doing that to you. He can feel how you’re squeezing his fingers and realizes that you’re already so close to your release. He doesn’t change his movements in fear that he’ll ruin it for you, just staying constant while you breathily chant his name like a mantra.

“Choso! Cho-so! I’m- I’m gonna-!!”

You don’t finish the sentence before your orgasm ripples through your body, back arching up and hands gripping his hair like a vice. His slurps are so messy now as he swallows all the sweet juices of your release. He slowly pulls his mouth away to look up at you, your chest heaving and fingers lightly pulling his hair and then soothing his scalp.

You come down from the high and he is full of grins. Starry-eyed and kissing your skin as if you were sculpted from the finest clay. You sit up after a few minutes and the both of you kiss again, you can taste yourself on his tongue. He happily lets your tongue invade his mouth, his body jolting with pleasure when your hand finds his dick.

You slowly slide your hand along the base of his cock. Your thumb helps move his foreskin back so you can tease the head. As you do so, his breath hitches, and a quiet groan escapes his throat, his forehead resting against your shoulder. Choso grips your hips and ruts his own into your hand.

“Your hand feels amazing,” he murmurs huskily, breathing heavily into your neck. “Don’t stop…”

“No? Not even if I want to suck it instead?” You whisper with a hint of teasing.

His cheeks flush and he groans softly. “Okay, but only if you’re doing that instead…”

You giggle and press a soft kiss against his lips before kneeling down to be level with his manhood. You press another kiss against the red tip of his cock before sliding your tongue along his length. His soft groans fill the room as your mouth envelops him, his hands tangling into your hair and guiding your head.

Choso swears he’s in heaven. Everything about you is so heavenly. The warmth of your mouth has him going crazy, he can only imagine how your other hole would feel.

“Oh, just like that,” he groans, very vocal compared to his usual reserved nature. “So good…”

It takes everything for him not to blow his load when you hum in response. You can taste it too, the pre that leaks out of him is oh-so perfect. Not too bitter, you can’t help but want more. He tries to pull away before he can cum, but you have such a pretty look on your face that he cums shortly after. Thick ropes reach down your throat and you pull away with a gasp shortly after swallowing.

Once Choso has come down from his high, he feels red reach his face and he clears his throat. “S-sorry, that was probably super gross…”

“No, no, it wasn’t bad at all.” You smile reassuringly and sit on his lap, careful not to stimulate his dick again. “I wanted to taste it.”

He’s super red now if he wasn’t already. “Ah, um, o-okay…”

“Need a break before we start all the… penetration stuff?” You blush a little.

“Yeah, just a little bit,” he mumbles and buries into your neck, planting soft kisses.

You press a kiss to his lips and get off his lap to look for condoms. “Where do you keep your condoms?”

“Uh, the one cabinet Yuji can’t reach. Bathroom, above the mirror.”

You head to the bathroom connected to his bedroom and get on your tiptoes to open the cabinet and grab a condom. You return to the bed and carefully put the rubber on him, apologizing when he hisses out of sensitivity. You giggle a little afterwards and he frowns and attacks you with kisses.

“Ack! Choso! Quiiiit!” You laugh and wrap your arms around him.

“Mwah, mwah, mmmmmwah!” He chuckles and presses soft kisses around your neck and jawline.

“Quit ittt!” You giggle more.

He pulls away after pressing a soft kiss to your lips and has the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen on him. You smile yourself and push his bangs out of his face. He hums and rubs your hips.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

“You’ve been saying that. I have no choice but to believe you.” You tease and kiss the corner of his lips.

“You should. I mean it.”

“Hm. So you’re the one who taught Yuji that honesty?”

“Ha, I guess, what’d he say?”

“He tells me all the time that I’m pretty.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“So do you and him talk about how pretty I am together?” You tease.

“Do you want more kisses?”

“Okay, okayyy…”

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then another. And another. The two of you make out again and he lifts you from his lap and lays you on your back against his bed. You tangle your fingers into his hair and hum against his lips, body jolting in surprise when his tip grazes your clit. He chuckles at that.

“Sensitive?”

“A little,” you mumble into his skin.

“But good enough for me to start?”

“Mhm, just don’t cum too early.” You tease and he nips at your bottom lip.

“Don’t plan on cumming before you.”

“Well, aren’t you a gentleman?”

He scoffs at your tease and carefully slides his rubber-coated dick along your slick to use as lube before sliding into your warmth. Choso lets himself stay there for a moment and also allows you to adjust to his intrusion. You hold onto the man’s shoulders as he rubs your sides soothingly.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Mhm, just need a second,” you mumble back.

“Just tell me when, I'll move slow.”

After a few moments of waiting, you nod. Choso moves his hips forward to be fully inside you, mumbling an apology when your nails dig into his skin. He waits again for your nod, which doesn’t come for a while. When it does, he slowly moves back until he is almost fully out of you, then slides back in, angling up just a bit to graze along your g-spot.

The gasp it elicits from you makes him dizzy. It's like he magically got drunk during dinner because you're constantly making him so light-headed with every little thing you do. He gradually picks up the pace and his hips now move a bit faster, the angle he's been at making you just as dizzy as he is.

Soft moans fill the room, as well as his quiet grunts and the squeak of his bed. The bed frame makes quiet thumps against the wall that separates your apartment from his, so he's not worried about a noise complaint. He kisses marks against your chest and holds your hips firmly yet not hard enough to bruise.

“Oh, right there, yeah, y-yeah, feels so good, Choso.” your breathless whispers mix with your moans.

“Feels good?” he repeats and smiles against your skin.

“Mhm-- fuck --feels amazing…”

He groans and continues his gradual increase in thrusts, eyes rolling back at how responsive you get. Your soft mewls drive him absolutely insane as he moves even faster inside you and spreads your legs wider (if even possible). Your nails dig even deeper into his shoulders, clawing at his back because he just feels so good, and he’s just so deep, it is just so right.

He can feel just how close you are and it's driving him nuts. He needs to feel you cum around him, and needs to know how it feels, he's been dreaming of this moment without even realizing it. But he can tell you still need something to help you teeter over the edge. He carefully rubs your clit with his thumb, not going too fast and not going too slow to keep you from orgasm. And he talks you through it the whole time.

“Gotta cum for me, pretty girl, I need you to cum. Yeahhh, I know-- fuck --know you're close, just let go f’me, okay? That's it, good fucking girl-- fuck, you squeeze so tight…”

You climax with a moan of his name and your nails drag along his back, legs squeezing around him and shaking slightly. He continues to thrust, the intervals becoming sloppy as he reaches his own orgasm, hips finally stilling when he overstimulated himself.

Choso carefully pulls out of you and kisses your forehead, moving your hair that is stuck to it out of the way. He grins and kisses your cheeks and lips as he slides the condom off his softening cock.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers against your skin. “Ready to shower?”

“Hold me for a little before we do,” you whine.

He chuckles and lays beside you, holding you on top of him and running his hand along your back. Choso's hand traces shapes into your hips as your head leans on his chest. His lips gently and repeatedly press against your forehead as he whispers praises to you.

“You are such an angel, so gorgeous and sweet, even when you're a tease…”

“Mhmm,” you hum back, too tired to actually form a reply.

“And you're just so fucking perfect, I love it.”

When he doesn't hear your half-reply and instead only hears your soft breathing, he smiles and carefully pulls the blanket over you. Choso, however, gets out of bed and showers, putting on fresh boxers before warming a bath up for you. He re-enters his room and carefully scoops you up, smiling softly when you wake up but don't really protest the bath.

Choso lathers your body carefully in some soap you had bought him as a neighborly welcome gift when he and Yuji moved in. You just sit in the tub and relax.

“Tired?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I was almost asleep…”

“I wanted to get you clean before you slept. Can't be too upset.”

“Interrupting my beauty sleep, how rude.” you joke and poke your tongue out.

“Come on, you can return as soon as I dry you off.” he laughs and rinses your body.

“Fine, but you have to make me breakfast tomorrow.”

“Of course, I planned on that anyway.”

He dries you off and gives you some boxers and his t-shirt to sleep in, then lays in bed with you. You cuddle into him and Choso smiles while holding you even closer.

“You know you're most likely gonna be sore tomorrow, yeah?”

“Probably, but it was so worth it in the moment.”

You both laugh and Choso kisses your head. “Get some sleep.”

“Mkay,” you mumble and quickly fall asleep, quiet breathing filling the room. He could get used to this.

Taglist: @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish @meowsannie

@mediokerrv @flooftoof @dazaisfavgf @mysteriaqueen @theirlgarfield

[skzaholix]

LOVE han jisung x reader w. maybe a little cringy but what is good love without cringe, this is gonna be a wilddd trip, jisungs mother isn't it... , lovesick!jisung gen. angst, fluff , starcrossed lovers sum. your world suddenly comes crumbling down when your lover feels as though you don't want him as much as he wants you so you choose to prove him that it isn't true. count. 2.8k

"they're a disgrace, jisung. do you want to love a disgrace?" the words replayed in your head as you sat rushed out of the home, jisung following quickly.

You both knew of each others feelings for one another, you both knew of the circumstances you both stood in but that wouldn't stop him, neither should it stop you, could it?

" y/n wait , i know what she said back there is bad but-" he attempted to find an excuse for his mothers words yet his mouth ran dry at the thought of any.

you sigh, discouraged and tired as rain poured onto you in heavy bunches, an uncomfortable feeling at best. "jisung-"

"oh how i hate when you call me that." he yells over the loud patters, not bothering for safety as he runs faster, grabbing onto you.

"ji, i'm sorry but i think we should just stop trying... i mean, no one wants us together and no matter what we try it never works." you turn to look at him, the rain covering up whats meant to be tears

"we just have to try harder, love. and if not, i don't think their opinions matter at all." he says, worry in his eyes as he calculates the possible outcome of this

"no ji, you don't understand. you're not the one being berated everywhere because of your social classing" you pull your arm from his grasp, looking at him with a cold stare.

he had never seen you in such a light towards him, perhaps he deserved it but who would he be if not a fighter for something he truly held valuable.

"okay, you're right i'm sorry-" he said huffing out a breath.

"no you're not sorry, you're selfish." you stare at him, expression blank as tears continued to fall with each passing blink.

his expression changed from one of worry to one of desperation.

"I'm... selfish?" he asked, his eyes saddening as he frowned.

"yes! you force me into this stupid relationship when all i get is reprimanded so yes, you're selfish."

you truly didn't mean it. jisung was persistant, he'd fight for something no matter what but you were tired, endlessly being dehumanized at the hands of anyone with any superiority.

"I thought you wanted- I thought you liked me..." he breathed heavily, his mind racing with many thoughts as he tried to mask the hurt. It was scary, how well he'd done it though, his eyes now showing a cold glare.

"Fine. I don't even know why I bothered, got my clothes all soaked for nothing." He said, his stare intense on you before he walked back into his home almost robotically.

your heart hurt as you watched him walk back into his home but you knew maybe it was all for the better.

The campus cafeteria buzzed with loud chatter as everyone prepared for lunch. Jisung sat at a table across the cafeteria from you but yet his eyes never seemed to stop looking at you. You were reading a book, paying little to no attention to your food.

Felix stared at Jisung with concern before following his gaze. "you alright? why don't you just go over there and sit with them?" He said, waking Jisung from his trance. "We're.. not together anymore," he said quietly before felix looked at him with a look of sympathy.

"Oh... I'm sorry," he replied as the table for the two had gotten quiet, of course before seungmin ruined the silence.

"Why are you watching them like a hawk then?" Seungmin asked, sliding his tray of food next to Felix's, giving a blank stare despite his ruthless remark, earning a glare from felix.

"Don't they look a little bad? I mean- not bad just... like they've been through a breakup and are upset?" Jisung was down bad, feeding off delusions in his head to prove to him that what you said wasn't true.

"No, they look the-" Seungmin starts, only to be stopped by Felix.

"I'm sure they're just as hurt as you are hyung" Felix suggests causing Jisung to nod.

Truth be told, you were. You'd taken a lot of effort to even get out of bed today and get ready, not to mention the self torment and strain you had to endure even trying not to look his way, it was torture.

Hyunjin appears at the boys table, his eyes squinted as he looked at the faces around him. "What's going on?"

"He's going through a breakup." Seungmin says, pointing at Jisung before going back to chewing on his food.

"A breakup? I think I have a good idea for you to get over it" Hyunjin suggest, cleaning closer to Jisung who only pushes him away.

"I don't wanna get over it. I want them" He pouts, covering his face in mental torment.

" this isn't right for your mental, maybe you should try to move on..." Felix says, bringing a hand to pat the man on his head.

"Right. That's why I suggest you go out with Yunhee" Hyunjin says with a smile on his face as Jisung glares at him.

"What?"

"Cmon, she's has a crush on you. She has had for a long time. Its way better than unrequited love."

"Hyun, that would be unrequited love" Felix says to which Hyunjin shakes off.

"He can fall in love with her, you can't fall inlove again, everyone knows that." Hyunjin says as Jisung sighs deeply.

"If i do it, will you shut up?" he asked, his eyes bored as Hyunjin nods with a smile.

You felt maybe you were doing right and that as time moved on you'd only get better. Yet, the thing is that the heart wants what it wants and the feeling of being happy will only be there for but so long before you're longing that true happiness once more.

That's exactly how you felt as you watched Jisung walk down the hall with Yunhee, the same girl who's always had a 'crush' on Jisung.

Yunhee was a bit of a childish person, spoiled, bratty, but luckily for her, rich.

she was also your mortal enemy who took it upon herself, even now at her big age to want whatever you wanted, even the things she knew you couldn't have, for example, Jisung.

You knew she didn't like him, she and her friends would joke about it everyday, stealing him from you just to see you with nothing.

She was using him, using your jisung.

"Hey ynnie!" You heard a bright cheery voice behind you belonging to no other than Felix.

You turned around to look at him, a playful grin on your face. "Aren't you Jisung's friend now? I saw you sitting with him yesterday."

He tilted his head, pouting. "Can't a guy have friends? I feel like a child of divorce."

You roll your eyes. "Why is jisung with Yunhee?" You ask, nudging your head towards the two.

Felix gives you a knowing look, a small smirk on his face. "Why? Jealous?"

You glance at him, scowling. "I just think it's ironic someone who says he's so hurt about a relationship is back with someone else in less than 72 hours" you cross your arms.

Felix nods, "Don't worry, he's just doing it for Hyunjin, they'll either be linked by the arm or complete strangers by time the college christmas party is over depending on how well they're communicating"

linked by the arm.

meaning dating?

obviously y/n.

uh oh.

truly you hadn't seen this one coming, you obviously weren't expecting for him to find someone else so quickly whilst you were still mourning. for that same person to be the one who never even cared about him.

you left hurt him just for him to be hurt again. there's no way you'd let yunhee go through with whatever trick she was going planning.

so you tried, speaking to him for the first time in what felt like forever

Jisung sat in the chair of the music room by himself as he looked over the notes for a song he'd been learning on guitar.

You'd been there everytime he let you listen to the rough drafts of his finishing project; it felt a little bittersweet hearing the finished version.

He played the notes softly, his eyes intently staring at the paper before he pushed his glasses up on his nose, letting out a sigh.

"Whoever's standing there you don't have to be a stalker, make yourself known" he said bluntly, causing you a little panic.

"Sorry..." You muttered but he recognised your voice instantly, his eyes widening as he quickly glanced back, putting his facade back on once more.

"What do you want?" His tone was cold, much like yours on the night you broke his heart.

"Can we talk?" You ask quietly, pushing the door to the music room closed a bit.

He let out another sigh, this time deeper and sounded annoyed. "What?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Yunhee" You started and the delusions in his mind almost made him think you were jealous, causing his heart to beat a little faster at the possibility.

"What? Are you upset i'm with someone else?" His tone and his heart are speaking two different languages because his tone is cold and upset but his heart is longing for you to want him, to accept him as much as he does you, if only he knew.

"What? No no, I just- Yunhee is only gonna hurt you, i don't think you should go out with her." You admit honestly, a look of concern in your eyes as you try to mask the feeling of hurt.

He scoffs, letting out a harsh laugh before standing. "You can't be hypocritical, y/n. It isn't a good look on you." he brushed past you before you could even get a chance at speaking.

Another thing about Jisung was that he was stubborn, very stubborn. And yet so were you.

A few days later, Jisung sat at the table with Felix, chewing on some carrot sticks they served which honestly were the first time they ever tasted fresh like they did today.

You rushed over, placing your hands on the table as a halt, getting the attention from both boys before Jisung looked back down at his food quickly.

"Ji..." You spoke, trying to get his attention.

"Jisung please..." You begged, walking over to the opposite side of the table to sit with him, gesturing to felix that now wasn't the best time to sit there to which he took the hint.

"Ji-"

"What do you want this time." He said, his eyes never landing on you, his attention only focused on the orange vegetable.

"Listen i'm sorry about what I said, i never meant to hurt you.."

"That's not gonna make me any less hurt, y/n. If this is an attempt at getting Yunhee gone, it's not working." He said bluntly.

"What? Jisung no-" He scowled at the name again.

"You know, you don't want me, neither do you want anyone else to. do you just hate me, y/n?" He asked, now staring at you with a death glare. If looks could kill, you'd be ready to be shipped off in a coffin.

You sit in shock and silence at his words, causing him to scoff in disbelief, standing up as he collects his stuff.

You manage to grab his hand when he walks by but he pulls it out of your grasp before you can even get a word out.

Two weeks has passesd since you last interacted with Jisung and everytime he sees you, he avoids you like the plague. You've come to the conclusion that he is complately done with you, that you're both done. It hurt like hell, you could barely even force yourself out of bed for the first week, let alone focus on anything besides the fact that you lost the greatest thing life can give you.

It was now lunchtime and you sat at your usual spot, now more caught up in a book than ever, anything to distract yourself from looking over across the cafeteria where they could see you. Luckily for Jisung, as you would've caught him staring at you from afar.

"Goodness, they look like they haven't been eating. You guys think its my fault? Fuck, i'm so stupid." Jisung scolds himself, covering his face as he tries to hide the tears threatening to slip.

"Han, I don't think you should be worrying about your ex when you have a nice date tonight with your new date." Hyunjin says although his still pats his back for comfort.

Han breathes in for a second, nodding slowly as he wipes the tears from his face, Felix's eyes filling with concern before his eyes glow with oppurtunity.

"Alright fine, this'll be the last date before i go off to weep in misery" He says before sighing deeply.

Felix turns up to your home with a big smile on his face, as he explains his idea of you finally speaking to Jisung, and tells you that Jisung also is going through a rough time and is only mad at you because he thinks you don't love him.

So thats how you end up at the party, standing awkwardly. You'd had over 6 drinks of some random non alcoholic drink to keep yourself from looking too awkward but now you've got to pee.

you walk to the bathroom which is very close but stop when you hear a conversation and familiar voices.

"jisung? nah i only need him to get back at y/n, remember?"

"ah, you think he actually is starting to like you yet?"

"that'd be a bummer, but it may benefit his parent's are rich. probably the only reason that bitch wants him."

"right, that's genius"

their conversation made your blood boil. she not only was using him to get back at you but she also was using him to get free money?

even if you couldn't win him back, you'd get your revenge before she thought of doing whatever she wanted to.

she walked out of ther bathroom, watching you stand there with a glare on her face. "Privacy much? no one asked you to be a stalker."

you stared at her , rage filling your eyes before you looked into your 7th cup, filled with juice inside, throwing it right into her face.

convienetly enough, Jisung was right outside the door to the bathrooms so he heard the loud shriek she gave and came inside, only to find you standing there holding a red solo cup outside down, leaking small drops of red juice onto the tile floors, causing Jisung to cringe before he walked over to you, looking at you in disbelief.

He grabbed your arm, softly, pulling you out of the bathroom and into a room more quiet, ignoring the screams from Yunhee.

He paced the room as you sat on a desk in the from, looking at him.

"What the hell was that?" He finally asked, looking at you.

"Ji- she said something bad about you! why are you upset with me?"

He glared at you, this time in an unrecognizable way. it was neither angry, nor cold, just frustrated?

"You... You confuse me Y/n. " This gets you to look up at him, your mouth dry, unable to answer.

"You tell me you love me, and want to fight, for me then you go and tell me i'm selfish when you cloud up every fucking thought I have, not even the valuables you say I want so bad can even match your value, how much I want you." Your eyes widen, unable to speak; he doesn't want you to anyways, he's not finished.

"Then you act all sweet and hurt, making me hurt for you yret, you can't even say no when I ask if you hate me and now... you're.. you're fighting someone for saying they want to hurt me, making me all fucked up."

The room is in complete in silence as you two stare at each other, desperation and shock in both of your eyes.

"say something please... do you love me? If you don't... I'll try, I'll get over it"

"ji... I do... I really really do but-"

"oh you know I hate it when you say "but" ..." he groans a little, moving closer as his eyes fill with desperation.

" I don't wanna go through that again... and I know it's unfair and downright selfish for me not to want you to move on but I just... I want you..."

he stares at you with hearts in his eyes as he softly grabs your arms.

"I'll do something about it... I promise it'll stop just next time tell me about this stuff, I can't lose you again, especially not like this." he says, staring into your eyes.

the room falls silent once more before you pull him into a passionate kiss, one filled with desperation, longing, and the taste of peppermint candy canes on his tongue.

"I love you, y/n so so so much."

"I love you so so so much as well, hanji"

AUTHORS NOTE: hello everyone this is the first part of amore, mio !! this was honestly a plot I had been drifting back and forth from but basically I can say I honestly got the whole idea for this series based on @dearbrisky ( this is a different plot than you asked for i apologize) asking for hopeless romantic hanji so i decided why not do a love trope for all members . I also wrote this all in the middle of the night and its not quite proofread so please tell me if there are any gendered terms used in here !! i'm also not the best writer so please do tell me if this writing g pace felt like whiplash

[halfwayhearted]

Maps — Jobe Bellingham.

Pairing: Jobe Bellingham x Fem!Reader

Summary: Noticing the not-so-subtle stares of the man you wanted but couldn’t have was something you despised.

Word Count: 775+

Disclaimer/s — Slight angst-ish… argument, that’s it.

A/N: The idea I originally had for this like, left my mind in the middle of writing so the ending is so ohr… rushed… hey. Hey!

Why couldn’t he make up his mind? Did he want you? Did he not? It was like holding a flower and delicately picking off the petals, playing the game of ‘he loves me,’ ‘he loves me not.’ It was tiring.

You didn’t know, nor could you tell. It was enough to make you lose it. Spending seconds, minutes, and hours on the situation only to push it aside. Telling yourself not to keep this going. But how could you do that when he always made you feel like you could actually mean something to him?

It pissed you off more than you cared to admit.

What pissed you off even more was the fact that Jobe was staring at you from across the room, his fingers running over his bottom lip and his eyes narrowed while the guy you were speaking to let out a laugh at something you had said. Seriously?

You told yourself that you were fine, you could do this. Don’t let him get to you. He wasn’t worth it.

Maybe you would have listened to your own advice if the man in front of you hadn’t stiffened and asked, “You know who that is over there?”

Already knowing who he was referring to, you refrain from sighing and instead excuse yourself. Wasting no time, you stride toward the man who slowly smirks up at you. Oh, you hated him.

“What the hell are you trying to accomplish?” You snap, your gaze never leaving his even when he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not trying to ‘accomplish’ anything.” Oh boy, he was insufferable! You couldn’t stand him at all.

Yet you still couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away when he gently grasps your forearms and guides you to a secluded area outside, thinking it was because your voice was raising and he didn’t want anyone to focus their attention on the both of you.

The second you’re aware that it’s just the two of you, you inhale sharply. “If you think you can just ghost me for days on end and then stare at anybody who’s even an inch in my vicinity the way you’re staring, then you’re wrong,” you snap, hands clenching. “Is it really that hard to make up your mind? I don’t—I don’t get you at all, Jobe!”

When he opens his mouth to speak, you quickly continue, “I will not wait for someone who doesn’t know what or who they want. I just won’t.”

After a few seconds pass, Jobe just simply stares at you, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, as if he’s contemplating how to handle the situation.

“Of course,” you scoff. “Whatever—I’m done.” Turning around, you’re about to walk away when he lets out a sigh and tugs you back toward him, making you roll your eyes and take a step back.

The man wets his lips, “I do know what I want.”

“Do you? Then tell me, what is it that you want?”

“You,” he responds almost instantly, making you suck in a breath. But you won’t give in that easily.

“Your way of showing it could use a little work.”

Taking a step toward you, he speaks once again, “Listen—I was… stupid before. I’m sure now.”

“You say you can’t be with me. Then you say that you won’t be able to be with me. Now I’m who you want? I don’t need you playing in my face.”

How did he go about this? You wouldn’t believe him. Rightfully so. Now that he was finally here and able to admit how he felt, he couldn’t help but feel that he was too late. Was he too late?

“What can I do?” He questions, his tone of voice quiet and soft. “Tell me what I can do; I’ll do it.”

Your eyes narrow. He was telling the truth, indeed he was. It didn’t even matter to you. Not anymore.

That’s what you kept telling yourself, but his next words changed your mind in an instant: “Will you have dinner with me? Let me just prove it to you.”

Let me prove it to you. All the resolve you had mustered up disintegrated into thin air and you found yourself letting out a sigh, “One dinner.”

“One dinner?” He echoes. “That’s—okay. Deal.”

Right, deal. You give Jobe one last look before walking past him. Once he’s alone, he starts coming up with different plans for your dinner. This is his one chance to prove to you that he’s, well, sorry and that you’re the one he wants.

And the man will make sure to prove both to you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[1bibypersecond]

I want to rant about a lot of things from Act 3, but I'll start with Viktor's song, The Line.

The Line is such a beautiful song. When I first watched the teaser on Friday, I turned into a puddle of tears. The lyrics were so lovely and described Viktor perfectly. I couldn't imagine myself watching the real episode. I read that they sent the scenes to TOP and got the song back in just three days, which is incredible.

But when I watched the whole scene, I was disappointed. It starts with Viktor saying goodbye to Sky after spending what seems like 3–6 months with her in her beautiful astral form. He says, ‘I’ll miss our talks,’ and Sky responds, ‘No, you won’t.’ She knows he’s letting go of her—of his humanity—which means he’ll stop feeling sadness. She also knows Viktor doesn’t regret it. And that’s it. That’s ALL we get. And it’s the same scene they showed in the teaser, nothing new.

Then it immediately switches to Vander and his memories. I get that they’re drawing parallels—both are transforming into their ‘final forms.’ But Vander already had his moment in Remember Me, so I really thought Viktor would take center stage in The Line.

Personally, I would’ve added a couple more minutes, maybe a scene of Viktor and Sky as kids playing together to give Sky’s character more weight. Another of Viktor and Jayce when they became colleagues or were working together. And maybe one of his parents. His parents loved him, and I feel like they didn’t give that enough attention, unlike all the other characters and their parents. It’s canon that his parents bought him a uniform for his birthday so he could attend the academy, yet we never get any info about them. I get that adding this would be extra production costs, but even a single image would’ve been enough.

Finally, maybe a shot of the three of them working together or Viktor and Jayce with Sky in the background. But no. The song feels so empty when you consider EVERYTHING Viktor went through with Sky during those 3–6 months they were together or all the time he spent with Jayce, his bestie.

This makes me wonder if Sky was just a figment of Viktor’s imagination, which is why he could let go of her so coldly. I know he barely shows affection to others, he was taking her hands and his eyes were tilting, but I felt they could have made it more emotional.

And on top of that, they cut the most beautiful parts of the song.

Completely wasted potential (just my opinion).

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

spent a good hour reading up on your Not What He Seems AU, it’s such a perfect mix of angst and whimsy! Ford waking up to find 30 years have passed in the blink of an eye is is the kind of body horror terrifying i eat up, as an avid enjoyer of time travel and its inherent tragedy.

i got a few questions, if you’ll indulge me:

- what kinds of tattoos you think Bill has gotten over the years? i think i saw some arm bands in one of your pieces, but i’d love to hear if you have any specific ideas for placements or images. if he’s doing it for the safe pain experience, i’d think there are some pretty big/detailed pieces involved? and do you think the pain helps ground him somewhat, to find and fit better in the boundaries of the body?

- in the show, Stan feels a lot of guilt for stealing his brother’s identity and he kinda thinks of himself as a fraud, an actor. do you think Bill ever feels guilty for the same? or would he just miss Ford a lot, without the Stan-specific aspect of pretending to be “the better one”?

also any fun tidbits you’ve been rotating in your head lately! it’s impressive how specifically it seems like you’ve thought out how Bill’s presence would affect the canon show events, while trying to keep them as unchanged as possible. also StanFraud is the funniest, most perfect thing I’ve ever heard!

Thank you!! I’ve always enjoyed writing horror based on human response, so Ford’s perspective is probably one of the most fascinating to me in this AU, although, all of it is fascinating and enjoyable to explore, really!

— I haven’t worked them all out yet, but I know for a fact he has a tattoo of the Cipher Wheel on his back, the arm bands as you mentioned, a hyper-realistic tattoo of his ribs where his ribs would be (if that makes sense), and eyes on the back of his hands. Honestly, I’d be open to suggestions for him! I imagine him having some more grotesque, detailed tattoos that reflect the nightmare realm as well. And yes, the pain definitely helps ground him. It also gives him a sense of control as well, in a situation where he has none.

— If he does feel guilty, it’s a complicated kind of guilt. I don’t even think he’d fully process that he’s feeling guilty. It’s this sort of gnawing feeling he can’t get rid of, and it starts the longer he gets to know Dipper and Mabel — he never really felt it before that. He absolutely misses Ford though. He can’t define that feeling either. I’ve said before that he looks at Dipper strangely, and that’s because Dipper reminds him of Ford in certain moments, eager for discovery!

He and Stan never really talk about it, but the have both acknowledged missing Ford before.

Bill’s response was vague though, not an ‘I miss him too’, but an ‘I think I do too.’ He isn’t sure what to make of that.

Bill Cipher doesn’t feel remorse, or miss people, he does everything with intention and he’s never made mistakes. Or, that’s what he’s meant to be. Maybe he has gone soft.

And Tidbits! I have a few! Not as many as usual, only because Arcane’s been taking up a bit of my brain space lately, but I hope these shall suffice anyhow:

(And quickly, thank you again, I think way too hard on all the small details and how Bill’s presence would have a knock on effect. It makes me happy to see it get noticed!)

— In the early days of Bill being trapped, Stan obviously doesn’t open the Mystery Shack, and ends up having to take a few odd jobs around town instead. He’s earned a bit of a reputation for being a decent handyman because of that, and even now, old timers of the town will still come to Stan if they need something fixing, especially cars. He complains about getting too old for it, but he never says no. Money is money! It’s also interesting to think about how the little things would impact his relationship with the townsfolk and how they view him. He’s always been Stanley to them. He’s never had to pretend otherwise.

— I’ve toyed around with making the Blind Eye a bigger threat than they are in canon, being as the kids would have no reason to look into Old Man McGucket. I’ve also toyed around with McGucket ending up slightly different to canon, his mind still broken, but his motivation different, with him being aware early on that the man he sees isn’t Ford, and is in fact the beast he fears and tried to erase from his mind. A more antagonistic Fiddleford who’s been trying to get rid of Bill for years now would actually be really fun? If I can make it work, and make the Blind Eye work in this way, I’ll lean into it! For now though, it’s just an idea I’m throwing around.

— Vague ‘episode’ idea that exists within my brain is Bill accidentally starting a mini cult again after telling some sort of lie that catches on, and it ends up being a Mabel-Bill bonding plot-line as she tries to convince him to just be honest before this whole cult thing gets taken too far. I also love the idea of Bill making a comment about this being like 1952 all over again. He makes comments like that all the time. Surely he’s just joking!

— Another vague ‘episode’ idea I have is Bill taking Dipper and Mabel to the supernatural underground market of Gravity Falls under Stan’s nose, trying to prove he’s the cooler Uncle, and that he can handle the two kids by himself. This goes about as well as you’d expect. Stan isn’t too happy to find out Bill got Dipper and Mabel in trouble, as he tried to get them to do more and more risky things.

— Bill will sometimes start speaking in Euclydian without realising, especially when it comes to cursing, and no one knows how he’s making those sounds with his mouth. Stan’s actually started picking up some of the meanings in context and can roughly gauge what Bill might be saying.

[parkersbliss]

Met Him Last Night | P. Graves

pairing: phillip graves x gender neutral reader 

synopsis: you make a decision to trust him, just this once. don't be surprised when it backfires.

warnings: graves, mentions of soap's death, possible timeline inaccuracies, one sexual reference

a/n: based on the song "met him last night" by demi lovato ft. ariana grande :) down bad for this man pls he's my american babe

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for call of duty!

—

“Red or white?” 

“Neither.” 

“White it is,” They tell the server, pointing to one of the names.

You sigh, leaning back in your seat. What were you doing this late at night here? With him? 

Graves is sitting in front of you, smirking at your sour expression and you want to rip it off his face. 

The server returns with the bottle and two glasses, pouring it for both of you. Graves thanks him and then gestures for you to take a sip. He grabs his glass, raises it to you in a toast, and waits. You hesitate for a second before grabbing the other glass. After all, what’s there to lose? You’ve already sat here with him, might as well make it more bearable. 

“That’s more like it,” He chuckles as you take a huge gulp. It has a hint of white peaches, delicate, but rich and intense as you finish it. 

You set the glass back down. “You’re an instigator.” 

“So they tell me,” He replies with ease. “But isn’t this so much more fun than drowning in your own sorrows?” 

You’ll give him that, at least. You weren’t sure why you thought this was a good idea. You don’t really believe in Graves and what he stood for. Or lack of what he stood for. 

Yet, here you were, sat in this restaurant with him, indulging him when you shouldn’t. A meeting with the devil. 

“You know you don’t have to like so sour to be here, darlin’. It was your choice to contact me.” 

“I’m starting to regret that,” You mumble, knowing he was right. In a moment of weakness, you begged for a contact with him and did some dingy shit, but you got it. You should at least give him a chance after all that hard work. 

“I’m not good enough company?” 

“I’ve had better.” 

He fakes a frown. “Hurtful, really. But I know you’re mourning, so I’ll let it slide.” 

You roll your eyes. “How generous of you.” 

“You know, they do say I am quite a giver.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Giver? He must have spoken wrong, he was a digger. Grave digger or gold digger. They both fit him. “Well, that’s some bullshit.” 

Graves laughs, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “No, I’m generous to the right people,” He corrects you. “My shadows get bonuses every year for Christmas.” He extends a hand to gesture at the table. “I’m paying for our lovely dinner tonight. Think that must constitute for something.” 

“Thank you,” You said, honestly. He was right after all, you called him here and all you’ve done is hurl insults at him. “I’m sorry.” 

He quirks a brow. “For what?” 

“I could be better company.”

“Ah, nonsense!” He waves a hand, dismissing your apology. His voice lowers, “Anyone in your position would be the same way, snippy and all.” 

“I’m not snippy!” You’re quick to defend. Though the look on his face says you might have just proven his point. “A little snippy,” You admit. 

“And that’s okay. It’s never easy losing a teammate to something so… preventable.” 

You clench your jaw at that mention and he takes quick notice. “But enough of that. Let’s talk about you.” 

“What about me?” 

“Anything you like, darlin’.” 

“I have a cat,” You blurt out. 

“Do ya?”

You nod. “Yeah, my friend takes care of him while I’m away. He’s uh… a tuxedo.” You pull out your phone to show him a picture. “He’s a little shit.” 

Graves leans in to look at the photo of your cat. “He’s cute, can’t blame him.” 

You snort. “I can’t have a Christmas tree 'cause he scales that thing to the top.” 

“So he likes a little fun.” Graves shrugs. “Don’t see nothin’ wrong with that.” 

You shake your head, a little amused. Of course, he would say that. “It’s more than that.” 

“Then tell me.” 

The conversion becomes easy after that. After you stopped insulting him, at least. Anyone who knew you knew the easiest way to get you to open up was through your cat. Maybe the wine is getting to your head, but he’s not so bad. Phillip makes you laugh, you make him laugh. You banter, you rant, you cry, and he understands. He promises you exactly what you’re looking for.

“We don’t play by the rules, darlin’. Believe me, I can get you exactly what you want.” 

You’re gone after that, having split the bottle of wine between the two of you. Any rational thoughts of what’s wrong and right have left your mind. The devil has promised you something, and he always keeps them. And perhaps you’ve promised something you shouldn’t have. 

He pays the bill, he walks you home with a hand on your back, and he stands at your doorway saying ‘goodnight.’ 

But you don’t want to be alone. 

He spends the night. Once. Twice. Three times. Too many to keep track of, but you didn’t care to anymore. Not when you sang Phillip’s praises when he was between your legs, or when he’s bringing you flowers when he sees you, or holding you late at night as you continue to mourn and find comfort in someone like him. 

There’s something warm and fuzzy about him. Something that makes your head spin and your legs weak. You don’t think when he’s around (maybe that’s the problem), but you don’t need to. 

“Never have to worry your pretty head ‘bout a thing darlin’.” Phillip would say, and so you did. 

You let him take care of your plan, your revenge, his promise. You let him take of you, healing some part of you that hadn’t after you lost Johnny. 

At least that’s what you thought, but maybe you got lost along the way, turned around, and headed straight into his arms. 

He made it so easy after all, didn’t he? To believe in him, that is. And you did a fucked up thing, really. A mistake on your part. Phillip had loyalty to no one but his shadows. For you to even think he’d extend that to you? Well, you had to be stupid or in love. 

And you weren’t stupid. 

You storm around your apartment, phone gripped tightly in your hand. You were fucked.

“Are you kidding me?” You practically scream. 

“Darlin’, please, it’s not personal.” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You used me.” You’re practically fuming at him. He was smart, finding you when you were vulnerable, and letting you reach out first. He prayed on your innocence, on your hurt. You damn sure weren’t letting that happen again. 

“Used is such a strong term,” Graves chides. “And really, I didn’t. You’re overreacting sweetness. This has nothing to do with you.” 

“It has everything!” 

You can hear his eye roll through the phone. “Would you just trust me on this?”

“Are you being serious? No! I’m never making that mistake again.” Graves didn’t wear disguises. You should’ve seen right through him. You knew better now. How could you ever have thought to believe him? Someone like him, with only a history of deceiving. You were there when he turned his back on you in Las Almas, at Shepard in the courtroom, and yet you believed him. He was your vice, your flaw, your reason. 

He was horrible in so many ways, but you came back every time. You craved him holding you at night, wiping the tears away. The way he’d kiss you when you would meet up, his hands roaming your body— you’d never felt this way.

“(Y/N),” He drawls and you want to fall for it, but you don’t. 

“No, I’m done. I’m leaving.” 

“Don’t be like this.” 

“You gave me a pretty damn good reason to leave. This is on you.” 

He chuckles through the phone. “If you’d let me explain, you’d see I’m not such a bad guy.” 

You shake your head. “No,” You said firmly. “No, you betrayed me and I betrayed my team.”

What were they going to think of you after this? You weren’t like this, so reckless, engaging with the enemy. No one expected this from you, and you certainly didn’t expect it from yourself, to fall so hard. But you weren’t going down without a fight. 

You bounce back like you always did. “This is the last call we’re having, Graves.” You practically spit his name out and he’s hurt when you hang up. You were always so stubborn with him. So quick to dismiss his reasons, like you’re looking for a reason to hate him. Whatever, you’ll come back. You’ll see he did this for you. He was not a bad guy, he was carrying out the plan you wanted. It just happened he had to screw over a couple people for it. He just didn’t expect you to get so worked up over it. 

You dial the next person, heart thundering. 

“(Y/N)?” A voice calls out, familiar to you and you hope they won’t hate you. That was the last thing you needed right now. You lost Johnny, and now you lost Graves (it’s a good thing you tell yourself, but your heart says otherwise), you couldn’t lose your team too. 

“Kyle, I,” You swallow, tears clouding your vision when you realize what you’ve done. “I fucked up.” 

– END –

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[hello-sweetheart]

Fame and Fortune

Do you dream of glory? Crowds of thousands all adoring beneath you. The roaring cheers echoing in the arena. Countless of small white lights held up like beacons creating a sea of waving stars all for you. Breathless exhilaration has your chest heaving, skin glistening and damn. To feel like a god: never ending, eternal.

What would you be willing to do to get it?

What are you willing to sacrifice for fame?

Who are you prepared to lose?

Could the love of millions be worth the love of one?

——

[Backstage: Corroded Coffin Global Tour-Los Angeles, Ca]

Eddie is pacing, more than just pre-show nerves numb his hands. His cigarette burns quickly, ash falling on the carpeted floor, but no amount of nicotine filled lungs will fix this. Gareth, his drummer and long time friend, is watching him pace, eyes pleading.

“Is it worth it, Eddie?

We all got what we wanted; why are we miserable? You can’t lie to me, we all feel it. I see it in everyone, even you! You haven’t been the same since—“ He receives a withering glare from the frontman and sighs, speaking softer.

“I miss mom and my little sister. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them… I’m no longer drawn in her crayon family portraits, did you know that? Does Anne even remember me, anymore?

How can you keep going like this and expect us to do the same? I’m grateful—I really am—for you. You got us where we are now, a fantasy that we never even dreamed would become reality. It was amazing, I’m glad I got to experience it all with you, but I’m tired. I’m so tired guys.

I just want to go home.”

The long drag he takes burns his throat,

“Look, we’re all tired, I get it. Really, I do, this tour has been… particularly grueling I’ll admit, but come on. This is our last show, the big finale! We’ll give them all we got and then we’ll be able to take a break to freshen up before doing what we do best: creating kick ass music.

Like always. You’ll feel better after this, we always do after the last show—“

Gareth cuts him off, his patience clearly stretched thin.

“No, Eddie, listen to me! It’s different this time. I’m happy with the money we’ve made, we all have enough to live comfortably and I’ve been thinking that, you know, it’s time to settle down. I can’t do that if I’m always working. This, the band, it doesn’t… it doesn’t make me happy anymore.”

Jeff stands and his imposing figure makes Eddie pause from wearing a path into the floor.

“He’s not the only one, man. Im sorry, but its killing me. We don’t expect you to give it up either, you can keep the band name, find new members, keep signing… But for us? We can’t keep going, man. This is the end of the line.”

‘Not him too. Fuck. Fuck!’

“No! What am I—I’ve given up too much for this, you can’t just, fucking, bail on me!” This band, playing with his friends, it’s become his entire world. He’s lost too much to get here.

“Woah, woah, hey! No one fucking told you to and you know it. We’ve always had your back no matter what, but anything you chose to do is on you. Not us. The least you could do is extend us the same fucking curtesy and respect the fact that we’re fucking done with this bullshit.”

His gaze is venom as he looks at band, Grant and ‘Freak’ silent but agreeing with the rest. They refuse to meet his gaze.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” He turns and leaves. They’ll be starting in 15 minutes.

Fucking cowards. Ungrateful bastards.

A memory plays in his head. Brief and intrusive. The voice of someone long gone from his life rings in his mind.

“I’ve missed you, Ed. Are you done at the studio, yet? When are you coming home?”

“Steve, this is important. You know this. I’ll be pulling a few more all nighters here—this album has to be perfect, baby.”

A crackling sigh is barely audible through the phone.

“I know, I know. I’m just being selfish. I’m sorry. Miss waking up to you next to me.”

“Miss you too, baby. You’re my world you know. Love you more than anything.”

“More than music?” It’s a timid question.

“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he’s the only one to laugh into the receiver.

“Right… night, Eddie.”

“Wait, Stev—“ fuck. It was only joke. Whatever, he’ll apologize tomorrow.

Right now, he has music history in the making.

[chilling-seavey]

I feel like something that goes for TWIG is you and George dating and have not told anyone besides your families and someone from the grid unexpectedly comes over, like Alex or Charles, and they see feminine products around the apartment. Like your shoes, handbag, and/or maybe your bra (for some spice) and gets really curious.

(Anon, the way you concept here relates to the way I portrayed their early days relationship in the Winter Warmers blurb I wrote last night is a little scary...are we the same person?? But I love this SO MUCH (I actually wrote this as soon as it came in while actively in the office) thank you for submitting!)

Basically, yes, the overarching concept of wanting to be 100% private with the relationship to keep it out of the limelight and unwelcome social pressures of the Formula 1 world is so TWIG. George is a little nervous to have your relationship be so publicized and scrutinized because he doesn't want that to come between you...he's seen his friends' relationships crumble because of that and it terrifies him, honestly. But it feels normal without anyone knowing except yourselves and your close families...like he's a normal person in a normal relationship.

You'd come to some races that first year but with a regular paddock pass/'sponsored' by Mercedes, coming in on your own and away from him so as to not be associated together by the press, feeling like a whole secret spy and honestly it's kind of thrilling. Even most if not all of the team doesn't know: hardly even seeing you and George in the same room in Mercedes hospitality...you're never in the garage...you're honestly impressively good at flying under the radar.

Yeah, out of everyone it drives George a little crazy that he hasn't told Alex yet but he selfishly just wants to stay in this safe bubble of normal for a little longer. Even if that means virtually lying to his best friend.

You and George didn't live in the same city so for the first while of your relationship you were bouncing back and forth between each other's apartments (and halfway around the world on some race weekends...). It was not long at all really before there was a steady stock of your things at George's just to make traveling easier for you; face wash and shampoo and conditioner and some standard makeup and maybe an outfit or two. Honestly it came to a point where your things just felt so natural to him that they just blend into the background of his apartment like they were just meant to be there.

So when Alex showed up one random weekday, George almost didn't bat an eye. Almost. Until Alex was kicking off his shoes in the foyer and eyeing the second pair of sneakers by the door.

"Your feet shrink or something, George?"

The fib was out of George's mouth before he could think, "They're my sister's. She left them here."

With Alex pacified, George kept him in the living room, busying him with snacks and conversation like he wasn't silently freaking out that his lie would come out.

When Alex excused himself to the bathroom, George panic texted you from the couch. His knee bounced annoyingly with him stuck staring at your laughing emojis you replied with to his lengthy nervous ramble. Not helpful.

"Since when do you stock up on feminine hygiene products?" Alex asked the moment he emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his hands together like he was still washing them.

"I, uh...carry them in case anyone that needs them comes over. Like Lily." George stumbled out a mention of Alex's long-term girlfriend who, in reality, did come over sometimes. He then immediately deflected with a quick, "Since when do you go snooping under my sink?"

"I needed hand lotion and I know you have the good, expensive stuff that smells like a forest." Alex flexed his fingers out as he flopped back down on the couch, his skin shimmering just a bit in the sunlight through the living room window. But Alex was a little too trusting of his best friend and so he didn't feel too bothered by George's response. He was a nice enough guy, maybe he did keep stock for Lily or his sister or someone.

Third time was the charm when they had decided to watch a movie and George got up to make some popcorn. Alex got himself comfortable on the couch, rearranging the cushions and finding that sweet spot in the upholstery. But the sudden laugh that came from the living room had George stopping in the kitchen.

"George!" Alex called in that pitchy voice he got when he was far too excited and teasing him.

George appeared in the doorway to the living room to find Alex waving one of your bras around in the air. The look on his face must have been priceless because Alex nearly cackled, "You keeping a bra around for Lily when she stays over too or is this also your sister's?"

George took three quick strides over and snatched it from him, "It's not my fucking sister's."

"If you have a girlfriend, you can just tell me." Alex said, slightly calmer now but still housing that shit-eating grin on his face. "I don't know why you'd not tell me."

George sighed, feeling a little ridiculous standing there with your bra in his hand in front of his best friend who was set on getting the truth out of him. He shrugged, relenting, "We just...wanted to keep it out of the spotlight for a bit."

"I'm not the spotlight." Alex reminded him.

"Yeah, but you have a big mouth, Alex." George laughed lightly, teasingly, before fading out with a shake of his head, trying to explain, "It was nice just feeling normal. I know once the whole grid knows or the team it'll, like, start to blend...these two halves of my life...and I know how that can end up."

"You can't be scared of that, George." Alex said gently, "Not everyone crashes and burns. Lily and I are fine."

"Lily also is in a public career of her own so she knows how it goes." George replied softly, tentatively.

"This girl of yours isn't?"

George shook his head.

"Not a model? Social media? Athlete?"

George shook his head after each one.

Alex's eyebrows raised, "Don't tell me she's normal."

"Remember the girl who checked you into that hotel back in May?"

"That really narrows it down, George, thank you."

George huffed, "The one you were on me for staring at for far too long."

"Her? Oh my God, you actually got her to agree to go out with you?! But you're so boring!"

"Alex—"

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