#I'm so bad at reaching out to people and when I finally work up the courage to try to make friends real life stuff always gets in the way

[bitemefightme]

Aaaaaaaaa! It's done! I did it! Mutt Copia for the people! Huge thanks to @avocado-writing for feeding my brain gremlin while writing this!

Warnings: BDSM. Sub!Copia, Dom!reader. Reader is afab. Self fingering. Sex toys. A lil🤏cock warming. Bondage. Probably more than I'm not thinking of so just let me know what I missed.

As you were laying in bed on your stomach, scrolling on your phone, you found it difficult to focus on the mindless action because Copia has been humping against your backside for a good 15 minutes.

He's been whining and begging into your ear for a while now, groping at your thighs hoping you'll let him spread them soon. It was getting a little bothersome.

Not that you didn't want to fuck Copia, if the slick mess between your thighs was anything to go off of, you really wanted to fuck Copia. But this? The rutting and begging? It was not what you wanted at the moment.

"Sit" you roll over and give Copia your best glare but it's almost broken by the fact that he actually does as told and sits back on his heels.

You reach your leg out and gently rub his erection through his sweat pants with your foot, smirking when he lets out high pitched whine.

"You acting like a dog, humping against your master's boot." You glare at Copia but there's no real disdain behind it. "You know, bad dogs don't get treats."

You retract your foot from Copia and he has the gaul to grab your ankle with a pathetic, pleading look.

"I can be good, please dove, let me touch you."

"You're such a horny mutt, can't even control your little red rocket." You jerk your leg from Copia and he mewls pathetically. "And last I checked, horny mutts shouldn't be allowed on furniture."

You pull Copia off the bed and tell him to kneel next to it while you get a couple of things.

Copia watches you with wide eyes, partly wondering where all this came from but far too into it to complain. He fucking loved it when you took control but this... Yeah this is new.

You toss a couch cushion at Copia, telling him he might want to kneel on it because you had no plans on letting him get up any time soon. He shivered at the idea of you keeping him wanting for hours, he's already worked himself up so much that he thinks he might explode the second you touch him.

After a few moments you return to the bed, all but ignoring the pleading looks Copia is giving you. In your hands is a box that Copia vaguely recognized from seeing it on your side of the closet. You set the box on the bed and take the lid off and start rummaging around in it. Inside are various sex toys, ranging from ropes and leather cuffs to vibrators and dildos, but you're looking for a specific item. When you finally find it you set it on the bedside table with a bottle of lube before putting the box off to the side.

Turning back to Copia, you pick up the bright blue and gold dildo you had pulled out.

"Recognize it?" You ask as you strip your shirt off and start untying the drawstrings on the front of your pajama pants.

Copia's eyes widened a little because he did recognize the phallic object. It was something that he'd made with a kit he got online right before he left on tour. He'd given it to you in a silk-lined box with a smirk.

"So you'll remember my shape until I return." He had growled in your ear.

But that was years ago, and he was honestly surprised you still had it.

"Cara mia, I-" Copia was cut off by you shushing him harshly.

"Here's what's going to happen." You step out of your pajama pants and underwear and perch on the edge of the bed. "If you can sit still and quiet like a good dog, I'll give you a treat, but if you can't I'll have to punish you."

Copia bites back a whine when you grin wickedly at him.

You bite your lip as you run a hand down your body, never breaking eyes contact with Copia for a second. You lean back and spread your legs nice and wide so he can get a good view of your cunt as you gather some of your slick onto your fingers before bringing them to your clit. You slowly roll it around, the muscles in your legs tensing at the feeling as you work yourself up to a quicker pace. After a couple minutes you lay back and bring your other hand down, easily sinking two fingers inside yourself and pumping them in and out. Another few minutes later you add a third, crooking them to prod at the spongy spot on your walls and gasping out a moan.

You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching, the fact that you had your needy beloved kneeling for you, just waiting for permission to sink his cock into you, spured it's coming all the quicker. You pull your fingers from yourself and sit up to reach for the dildo and lube, when your eyes land on Copia. He had the front of his sweat pants pushed down just enough for his dick to be freed so he could fist it, his eyes closed as he squeezed the angry red tip with one hand and cupped his aching balls with the other.

"Bad dog!" You bark at him as you jump off the bed and pull his hands away from his throbbing erection. "I told you to wait."

Your eyes wander over to your box of sex goodies and you get an idea. You give Copia a quick glare before turning and pulling a black leather collar with matching leather cuffs out of the box.

"Chin up." You command as you turn to Copia.

He swallows thickly but does as he's told. You strip his shirt off before you buckle the collar around his throat. Next came the cuffs. You guide his hands behind his back and buckle the handcuffs around his wrist.

You take a step back to admire your work. Copia looked delicious. His face and his dick were both a desperate shade of red, and he looked absolutely pathetic with his cock twitching outside his pants, dripping pre-cum onto the cushion beneath him. For a brief moment the mental image of swatting at it with a riding crop came to your mind but you push it to the side, deciding to save the idea for later, if the need arose.

"Now aren't you a pretty sight." You crawl back on the bed and stack up the pillows so you can lean back and watch the desperation on Copia's face while you fucked yourself.

You grab the dildo and cover it with a generous amount of lube before reclining back into your makeshift thrown.

You let out an over exaggerated moan of Copia's name as you sink the toy inside, hoping to get him to act up. You craved a reason to punish him further. You watch Copia through hooded eyes as you fucked yourself, your movements quickening as you chased your pleasure. His eyes were zeroed in on where you were pleasing yourself, biting his lip and rubbing his thighs together as if it might grant him any sort of friction, letting out little whines that you were letting slide because they were going straight to your cunt. Hightening your pleasure.

Fuck you're so close. You start thinking about perhaps letting poor Copia finish you off but of course the man doesn't have enough patience to wait and find out what you're thinking when your hands slow your menstruations.

"Tesoro please." His voice sounds wet, as if he might burst into tears at any moment. "I can make you feel so much better. I can be good and bring you so much pleasure, please just use me."

Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the sound of your proud Papa begging for you to use him, and you were so tempted to, seeing how you've been edging yourself to prolong his suffering, but you had set some rules in place and the thought of punishing him for breaking them again was just as tempting a thought.

"Copia, hon." Your voice was as sickly sweet as honey laced with poison. "Didn't I tell you to sit still and quiet?"

Copia opened his mouth to argue but the look you gave him told him he should pick his next words carefully.

"Y-yes?"

"It almost sounds like you want to be punished." You sit up, tossing the toy to the side as you approach your mutt and loop a finger in between the collar and his throat, feeling his Adam's apple bob against the finger as he swallows thickly. "Is that what you want, mutt? For your master to punish you?"

Copia gives a nearly imperceptible nod and his cock twitches at the idea of getting some kind of attention, even if it was negative.

"Up." You pull Copia by his collar and push him onto his back on the bed. "Stay."

You tug Copia's sweat pants off and look him over as you think of how you want to punish him. You could edge him until he's incoherent, or perhaps fuck him with the dildo he had given you, making him live with the knowledge of what his own cock felt like inside him. But ultimately you come back to an idea you had just moments earlier.

Again, going back to your box you pull out a riding crop, flicking it through the air experimentally before turning your eyes back on Copia who shivered at the look you gave him.

"It's almost not fair, punishing a poor little mutt like you." You hum with fake sympathy as you run the end of the crop up and down Copia's inner thighs causing goosebumps to form across the area. "Not when the real problem is right here."

You gently tap the head of his cock with the crop grinning wickedly at the gasp he lets out. He looked painfully hard and a glance at the clock showed it had been just over an hour since this all had started.

"So, I'll punish the source of the problem and all you have to do is not cum." You raise the leather crop over your head and give Copia one last chance to back out, to say no, to give any indication that you were taking it too far.

When all you got was whimpers and a lustful stare, you brought the crop down on the head of his cock, not too hard, but enough that it definitely hurt a lot. Copia let out a strangled sound that somewhere between a yelp and a moan, his back arched and he closed his legs instinctively to protect his weeping dick.

"Keep them open." You growl as you wretch his knees apart. "Or the next ones going on your balls."

Copia nods quickly as his eyes mist over with tears.

You smooth a hand over his thigh as you raise the crop again. And again, you pause just long enough to give Copia the chance to tell you to stop. But again, he does nothing of the sort.

Copia's legs jump at the next strike but he manages to keep them open as a pained moan tumbles from his lips. The next two come one right after the other, landing on either side of his twitching erection. Copia was breathing hard, clutching at the sheets beneath him to ground himself.

"You can do three more, yeah?" You set the crop to the side so you can smooth both hands up and down Copia's trembling thighs.

He wasn't sure if he could. Copia felt so close to bursting and the stinging sensation still radiating from where you'd hit him was only driving him closer to the edge.

"I can." His voice is just above a whisper. "Just, please, give me a moment, cara mia."

You nod and continue to rub your hands up and down his thighs, from hip to knee and back again, helping him ground himself.

After a few minutes Copia nods and gives you a small okay, and you grab the riding crop again. You bring it down on him and howls and arches again, immediately back at the edge.

As you raise your hand and bring the crop back down he gives an all too small "W-wait! I'm gonna-" but it was too late. The crop made contact with the tip of his dick and he moans loudly as he arches off the bed, cumming all over his stomach and chest.

You gently shush him as you sooth your hands over his hip, letting him come down from his orgasm and come back to himself.

"You okay?" You ask, rubbing your thumbs back and forth over his hips.

"Yeah." Copia says after his breathing settles.

"Do you want to keep going?" The question makes Copia's dick twitch as he looks at you with a bit of surprises.

"You have more in mind?"

"Well, yeah." You grin almost evily and you can see Copia already twitching back to life. "My horny little mutt came without permission after all."

Copia moaned at the thought of more of this type of treatment, already fully hard again.

Copia let his dick make the decision for him as he nodded, he wasn't expecting you to make him roll over though.

"I'll be nice and only do 10 this time."

'This time'. Copia shivered at the implication of this happening again.

"So be a good boy and count them." You smooth a hand over his ass and up his back. "If you do a good job I'll make sure to reward you."

It only took a few minutes but Copia was too far gone to have any concept of time, he was trembling, moaning, and crying but the stinging of the welts the crop left behind felt too good to even consider asking you to stop. Not to mention the promise of that reward you had mentioned.

"N-nine!" Copia yelped as the crop hit the back of his thighs.

"Doing so well for me." You gently sooth your hand over the new welt that was already forming, mentally promising to rub some lotion into them once you were done. "Just one more. Be a good dog and count it for me okay?"

Copia takes a deep breath and nods, his voice horse and throat dry.

You make the strike quick, immediately kissing up Copia's back and telling him how good he was for you once he let out a strangled "Ten!". You unbuckle his restraints and help him roll over, massaging and kissing his wrists.

Copia had tears running down his face and a somewhat dazed look on his face. His legs and arms trembled whenever he tried to move them and you can't help the feeling of pride that seeds itself in you at how well he took everything.

"How are you feeling, babe?" You run your fingers through his hair as you crawl over him, mindful not to touch is still twitching erection.

"Sono un bravo cane, amore mio?" Copia's voice was shaky and he was too out of it at the moment to even attempt English.

"Such a good dog for me." You cup his face and gently kiss him, drawing a content sigh from him. "But if you still want your reward you need to come back to reality a little bit."

You run your hands down Copia's arms and squeeze his hands until the dazed expression leaves his face and breathing evens out.

"Please, amore." Copia's hands weakly squeeze yours in return and you smile at how willing he was to still beg for you.

"Please what, my love?" You want him to say it. Partly for your own ego but mostly because you needed to know that he knew what he was asking for.

"Please fuck me." Copia whines and shifts his hips slightly, probably the closest he could get to grinding against you at the moment.

"I know, I know, let me take care of you now." You shift over him until your knelt over his dick, feeling the head of it prod at you slick folds. "You're such a good boy for me."

You slowly drop your hips, biting your lip at the feeling of finally being filled by him. You both let out whines of relief once you're fully seated, Copia's hands come up to paw weakly at your thighs and he attempts to circle your clit with his thumb, but his movements are too sluggish and clumsy for you to get any real pleasure from it so you grab his hand and bring up to grope your breast.

You can feel Copia's hips twitching beneath you, desperate to fuck up into you like he usually would, so you show mercy and start bouncing yourself on his cock. From the way he whines and moans you can tell he won't last long so you bring your own hand down to rub at your clit, feeling your thighs flex on either side of Copia's hips.

It's not long until Copia's cumming and you gasp and groan at the warmth of it filling you. You continue to ride him until he's well into overstimulation, praising him as your finger work quickly against your clit, but eventually you start to feel bad for the poor man, especially when he's weakly pushing against your thighs and whimpering like that. So, you settle on seating yourself against Copia's hips, his soft cock inside you while you work at your clit until your cumming around him while chanting his name.

You collapse onto Copia's chest, breathing heavy. You lay still for a while, catching your breath while Copia's arms circle around your waist. You can hear his heartbeat slow and when you glance up he completely passed out. You carefully untangle yourself from him, biting back a gasp when his soft cock slips from you and his cum dribbles down your legs. Despite your legs still feeling shaky from your orgasm you make your way to the bathroom and return with a small basen of warm water and a washcloth. You carefully wipe Copia down, being especially gentle with his backside and crotch, until he's not sticky anymore, then you pull the covers over him with a kiss before heading to the bathroom to sort yourself out.

Once you're clean and dry you crawl into bed next to Copia, resting your head on his chest and absentmindedly running your fingers through the hair there. It doesn't take long for you to drift off as well, the slow steady sound of his heart beat luling you to sleep.

Copia may be a horny mutt but was also such a good boy.

[doggirlnarcolepsy]

.

[your-internet-bf]

I have a bad habit of looking at other people's phones in public. Someday, I think I'll look at a cute girl's screen and see the sorta shit I like - bondage, rape, deep, strong fucking. You'd scroll past as quick as you can, of course, since it's embarrassing to be caught looking at that in public... But I'd know.

It's not hard to follow people, especially in a city. Nobody expects to be followed; you'd never even notice. Maybe you catch a glimpse of me through the corner of your eye, but it's just a coincidence that I've been behind you the past eight blocks, right? Right?

I've been camping outside your place, watching through the window. It wasn't hard, and you haven't noticed anything more than a shadow. But it's dark out now, and very late, and I climb up to your window to get a better view.

I see you reclined in your bed, rubbing and pounding as hard as you can, your brow furrowed and your lips open in a silent moan as you try to hide your, what, fourth orgasm of the night? I watch, every inch of my cock throbbing, aching, waiting for my turn.

You turn off your phone, close your eyes, and you - raw, red, exhausted you - try to sleep. I wait a few minutes just to be sure, feeling myself over my clothes, before trying your window. It's a rush when I find it unlocked - you are EXACTLY the kind of girl I thought you were. Silently, the window slides open, and I follow the cool night air into your bedroom.

You're prettier up close. I've been studying you for hours now, of course, but I hadn't noticed just how soft your skin was, or how smooth your curves... I pull down your covers, revealing that you didn't bother to put anything on after you came. Your slick, abused cunt is so inviting; every cell in my body is screaming at me to tear you open with my cock, to ruin you, to pound your cervix up into your tummy, but there's something I need to do first...

I take a quick moment to undress, quietly, the soft clink of my belt buckle being the only sound other than our breathing, already starting to mix in the darkness. Then all at once I pounce, pushing you onto your front, gripping your waist from behind, and ramming my cock dry into your ass.

It hurts. I want it to hurt.

You're scared. I want you to be scared.

Maybe you've been with a guy before, maybe you haven't, maybe you have a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or spouse right now; it doesn't matter to me. With my size, every hole feels tight, especially a victim.

I feel you writhe beneath me, trying to get away, but I won't let you. I take one of my hands off your waist and, balling up your hair in one fist, wrench your head back.

"You," I whisper, my breath hot on your cheek, "aren't going anywhere, pretty girl."

I push your face down into your bed and keep going, pounding, breaking, raping your ass. You feel my breath on you, my sweat on you, the smell of me overwhelming even as I'm intoxicated by yours. I yank your head back up and take a deep breath in at the back of your neck, moaning as I breathe out. As I pause, you raise your hips into me, whimpering, and I know you need me to keep going.

Because you need it, don't you? You need a big, strong man, smelling like sweat and power, to rape you, don't you? To completely make you mine, to turn you into a sobbing, soaking mess, to mold you around my filthy, throbbing cock. Say it now, say that you need it, that you're a needy slut, say it out loud...

So I continue. Taking the other hand back to your waist, I redouble my work, straining inside you. I reach down to slap your soaking pussy and rub your wetness on me, and keep going. In and out, in and out, in and out, my girth spreading your ass so wide, so painfully, you can barely think. But I know you need it, and I'm so close now.

My breath comes faster, catching in my throat, and you feel a hard thrust, then another, another, another, and finally, I ram into you so hard we both collapse into your bed... And you feel the thick, white cum shoot into you. Warm, heavy, sticky, it fills your insides as my cock pulses thick and strong inside you, my breath warm on your neck as I force you to cockwarm me.

I kiss your soft, pretty skin as you sob into your pillow. I grind into you as I do, and my cum leaks out, a slow stream rolling down from your ruined ass towards that gaping, aching cunt. After a minute, I pull out, and push you onto your back. You get a brief glimpse at my face through the tears - long, long eyelashes framing deep gray eyes - before I steal a kiss. Your tears make it salty, and you feel me smile, pressed up against your lips.

"You needed it, didn't you?" I ask, still grinning.

Weakly, you nod. "Mhmm..." You draw in another shaky breath.

"Good, good girl." I lean back and reach for my cock - I'm still hard. I still need you.

You know what you are now. You'd suspected it before, but now you know what you are, what you need, and so do I. You spread your legs for me, this time willingly, begging me to come make you mine...

[luvyeni]

PERSONAS ,, 이제노

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ jeno is surprised by your persona... both of them ヾ

PORNSTAR!이제노・ CAMGIRL!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ 6.4k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

𓂃 🎞️ content warning... sex on film, rough-ish sex, oral sex ( M ), unprotected sex, facial

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 finally did a fic based on this photoshoot , doesn’t he look like a 80’s pornstar?

camgirling was only supposed to be something you did for fun, and the cash you got from it wasn't too bad either — you never expected to blow up like you did, the people really liked you.

when you first started it was slow, but that didn't last long and soon you gained a small following. it wasn't until you did a face reveal that you blew up — the fans loved you; that day alone you gained 100k new followers. from that day on you only grew more; more money rolled in which granted you the ability to move into a bigger apartment, pay off your debts and live comfortably without stress.

“it's your persona” your friends would say; you weren't shy about you did for work; you felt like you didn't need to be — no you weren't telling a stranger on the street you did camgirling , but you didn't hide it from your friends. “you're a walking porn trope.” donghyuck; your best friend said. “innocent girl next door look , but we all saw you deepthroat a 6in dildo without gagging.”

that should've offended you but you were used to it. “yeah , that pigmented blush bows and wide puppy dog eyes is cute and all, but it's that and the fact that you bounced on a 7in strap-on attached to a stuffed bear that turns people on.” ryujin said. “you have a face for porn.”

“is there a difference?” your friends looked at you. “duh , of course!” haechan said. “camgirling is mostly done in the comfort of your own home , low production.” he said. “porn is different, with porn there's a script almost like a movie with a crew , and another actor.” you and ryujin both looked at each other. “uh you seem real passionate about that…” he shrugged. “I'm a man of course i do , that's why i know you would be perfect for porn.”

“what would i get out of bad acting in room full of men with hardon watching me be badly fucked by another macho man on viagra and red bull?” you scoffed. “expect a sore clit and a cumshot to the face that tastes like battery acid?” ryujin looked around the cafe where you were sitting , making sure no one heard the conversation. “would you both keep it down?”

“more money, a new following.” he responded nonchalantly , your ears perked up. “go on.” you said now listening. “well the website you use now, it's big but it's niche , only a few new visitors monthly.” he started. “you do one porn video with a good actor with a good following , bingo! you get a new following from his following and it reaches a bigger audience who stumble across your video.” you had to admit although he was loud and you're pretty sure the sweet old lady walking past heard everything, he talked a big game.

“what are you a porn star scout?” ryujin laughed while taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “wait is that a thing?” he asked, you shook your head. “that does sound good, my rent just went up and there's a new pair of shoes that have been sitting in my cart.” you said. “yn don't do porn for a pair of louboutins and rent , get a roommate.” ryujin said, trying to be the voice of reason. “would you do it?” you asked her.

“i love you so i would never lie to you.” she said. “yeah , give me the script.” the three of you busting out into a fit of laughter. “plus if you don't like it then you can easily go back to camgirling.” she said. “and i don't think all male pornstars are bad.”

“and you know this how?” she looked at you. “you think i don't watch porn?” she questioned. “the acting? horrible but who's watching porn for the plot.” haechan raised his hand. “haechan be fucking for real.” you snickered. “what big dick delivery man and hot lonely milf is a work of art.” he said with a serious face. “oh he serious i think.” ryujin said. “that's the scary thing.”

“you know not all the acting is bad either.” ryujin spoke up. “yeah jeno is good even my dick gets hard when i listen to him speak.” you choose to ignore him. “who's jeno.” you asked. “you don't know jeno? the lee jeno, he's huge in the porn world.” ryujin said, you scoffed. “sorry im not familiar with the ryan reynolds of porn.” you said. “you think ryan reynolds would do porn?”

“lee jeno is a huge pornstar; he doesn't even just do porn , he's a model, he walks on runways as well , he's invited into classy spaces despite showing the world his dick.” the girl explained. “and i heard the girls he fucks on camera…” she said. “those orgasms are real.” haechan nodded in agreement. “i heard that too.”

“if you could get with him, you'd be set.” you rolled your eyes. “if he's as good as you say why the fuck would he film a video with me?” you scoffed. “pussy is pussy and money is money.” ryujin shrugged , the horrified worker walked past making the three of you laugh. “my god ryu , you sound like a man.”

“check him out; i swear you'll understand why he's famous.”

“come in , come in.” you flashed a smile to the camera; this wasn't a camgirl video, but a regular live that you sometimes did because your fans wanted you to — for what? you don't question, they pay you to just talk half naked. “how was everyone's day?”

you read through the comments; thanking the commenters for the donations. “what did i do today?” you read off. “well i ran some errands, got a few new toys.” you smirked. “oh and i had some coffee with some friends.” you said. “they told me i have a face for porn.”

the comments blew up with people agreeing. “i guess you guys agree as well.” you giggled playing into that act they loved so muched, reading more comments.

6inchking. what i would do to film a video with you.

user34.52. fuck yes , i would kill to see you fuck someone else.

allsizesmatter. you should film with lee jeno.

“oh? i keep hearing that name, my friends said the same thing.” you said. “is he really that good? maybe i should watch some of his videos.” you said, rolling your eyes at the comments that were in disbelief that you watched porn. “guys don't be ridiculous , why wouldn't i watch porn?” you laughed, grabbing your phone. “let's look him up.”

you typed into the search bar; waiting for the screen to load. “let's see if he lives up to what everyone says he is.” the screen finally loading, the most finest fucking man popping up on your screen. “oh he's really good looking.” you said scrolling through the many pictures. “really good looking.” you almost forgot you were on live — not only was his face godly , it looked like he was sculpted by the gods himself.

user24.52. look at her , already turned on just by his photos.

user22.63. to be looked at by her liked that.

“guys stop.” you giggled, cheeks red. “he is cute though.” you said. “im already so tired from the day.” you said; and yes you were tired, but you also wanted to watch on of his videos. “am i gonna watch one of his videos?” you smiled innocently , before shrugging. “i guess you guys will never know will you.” you blew a kiss to the camera. “bye bye.” you turned the camera off.

after that you wasted no time, climbing into your bed. your phone in your hand as you get comfortable, reaching over into your nightstand grabbing your rose toy; taking off your panties , pulling down your bra , sighing as the wind hit your nipples. “fuck.” you scrolled through jenos account— he had 5.5 million followers; way more than your messily 345k, he was a big deal.

you scrolled through his videos , settling on the most recent one. clicking the video — normally you'd skip the whole “acting scene” but this guy was known for his good acting so you decided to see for yourself.

you were a little bored at first, but as the scene went on you came to the realization that it was one of the best scenes you'd ever watched when watching porn, even though the actress was good , it almost seemed like regular video — besides the bright production lights and 4k hd cameras , and the fact that the beautiful actress herself was dressed in expensive lingerie and heels. her makeup done to the nines.

and then there was jeno; he was just as fine on video than in camera. his voice alone had you itching to touch yourself, which you did— fingers ghosting over your nipples; eyes closing. you almost forgot about the video, until you heard moaning. you opened your eyes to jeno sticking his cock into the girl. believe it or not , you weren't fucking just anyone , you actually only had sex with a few people , but their sizes compared to his were vastly different.

you understood why he was so famous; jeno was extremely good at his job. it was like you were watching a real couple fuck in their bed; jeno was rough; but not like those horrible videos where it looked like the girl wasn't enjoying it — the way the actresses eyes were crossed, it looked like she was very much enjoying it.

you curled your fingers up into your g-spot, thrusting your fingers in and out of your dripping hole. your moans , jenos and the actresses filled your empty room. you wanted to drop the phone and just finish already, desperate to cum , but you couldn't, it was like you were in a trance. the actress came with a loud scream. “oh fuck.” you moaned as jeno brought the girl to her knees , cumming all over the girls face — lord how you wished it was you.

your legs crossed over your hand as you came, back arching off the bed. “fuck!” you sighed as you came down from your high , the next random video playing on your phone. you turned it off , desperately trying to catch your breath. he had this effect on you and all you did was watch his videos.

getting up to clean yourself off; washing your body and your hair. getting out , drying off. you threw on an oversized shirt not bothering to put on underwear, it was just you. grabbing a snack before making your way back to bed to watch tv.

meanwhile a few miles away; jeno sat in his chair scrolling through his feed. he hated night shoots , everyone was tired and ready to go home. the actress today just wasn't good , her acting sucked , she was bitching about everything; how she hated the script; how the outfit was ugly — how she wanted him to cum. he was all for women wanting to what they wanted , but damn how was it his fault he wasn't turned on enough to cum as much as she wanted.

“jeno?” his manager and best friend jaemin , walked into his dressing room. “is it time to go?” he said, not looking up. “well … no, she's still complaining, something about you being too big.” jeno smirked. “so we're figuring that out now.” he said. “can we just sat fuck this shoot and go home?” he said. “im doing them a favor, i don't need the money.” he said. “yeah sure.” jaemin said. “what can they do?” he told the assistant on hand to tell them they were leaving. “what did you want?” he said, putting on his sweats. “when? oh to just show you this.”

he pulled the sweatshirt over his head; taking the phone from his friend's hand. “what am i looking at, who is this girl?” he stared at the screen , watching you talk. “she's cute , new girlfriend?”

“i don't date, she's a camgirl.” he scoffed at his friend. “her?” he looked at you once again. “stop fucking around her?” you looked so innocent, dressed like a doll , cute makeup, cheeks extremely pink from blush, normally jeno thinks that makeup look is crazy, but you made it work. “she doesn't even look like she's seen a porn film.”

“not everything is what it seems my friend look.” he clicked another video— and he swore he was watching another girl. “did she just?” jeno was shocked. “yes , she did.” his friend smirked while he stared in shock as he watched you take a 9in toy down your throat without gagging. “no gag reflex , if she has a boyfriend he's a lucky fucking bastard.”

jeno pushed the phone away; not that he didn't want to see it, but he also didn't want to cum in his pants to a video in front of his friend. “why are you showing me this?” he said. “you know i don't do camming.”

“yeah , but people want you both to collaborate. apparently she talked about you today and the internet is going crazy.” jaemin said. “she has good following , not as big as yours , but that shouldn't even matter , bro she doesn't have a gag reflex , i’d do it for fun.” jeno picked his bag up, slinging it over his shoulder. “does she even have a manager? does she even want to do porn? why am i asking the questions that i pay you to already have answered before coming to me?”

“she's a independent artist i think, but I'm sure she'd answer a dm.” jeno lifted his eyebrow. “yeah , because she'd answer a random message asking her does she want to do porn , bro she gets those messages daily.” he said. “im sure i could work it out.” he said. “well then come back to me when you do.” jeno slapped his friends chest. “now let's go im hungry.” he said. “i’ll send you that link to the full video , you have to see it.”

“which one did you watch?” haechan asked. “why are we having this conversation right now?” you said cheeks red. “you've literally told us about how you — the recent one.” you interrupted ryujin before she embarrassed you. “i watched the recent one.” she nodded. “oh that one is good, that actress is hot.” she said , hyuck nodding in agreement. “she is.”

“she was, they both were.” you said. “and the acting was good , i actually watched it.” haechan pointed. “told you sometimes the plot just hits.”

“i thought i was watching a couple fucking, either one , that actress is in the wrong business or two , he's a good fucker and she wasn't acting.” you said. “she actually looked excited for him to cum on her.” you could still hear the moans playing in your head. “okay snap out of it , no one wants to watch you get turned on in public.” ryujin said , haechan scoffed. “speak for yourself.”

you laughed , your phone buzzing making you break away from the conversation; it was a message from twitter dm. you ignored it , thinking it was a normal everyday dm from a fan. you sat your phone down only for it to go off multiple times. “girl you got a boyfriend we don't know about? who the hell is texting you like that?” ryujin picked up your phone. “probably a weird fan, im gonna close my dms”

that didn't stop ryujin from clicking the messages, ready to troll the person. “oh girl , i don't think so.” she handed you the device back. “what is it?”

reading through the text messages. “what is it , don't leave me out.” haechan whined. “it's from jenos manager.” ryujin said , haechan sat up from his seat. “what let me see.” he snatched the phone. “oh my god , jeno wants to film with you.” he said. “it's like the porn gods answered us.”

“must you act like a neanderthal? it's probably a fake account.” haechan clicked the account. “it's verified and there's pictures of them together , they seem close.” he said. “he wants you to call him , he gave you a number to call.” he gave you back the phone. “oh my god let's go back to yours so you can call.”

they basically dragged you back to your apartment after that, forcing you to call the boy. “you both have to shut the fuck up if i put it on speaker.” you said typing down the number into the keypad. “probably about to call a random guy just so he can jerk off to my voice.” you pushed the call button. “don't you do that already.” you scoffed. “yeah but i get paid for it.”

the three of you sitting around the bed waiting for them to answer. “hello?” you picked up the phone. “is this na jaemin?” you said. “yes is this yn? i know your voice— wait, not like that.” your two friends snickered. “it's fine, i almost didn't call you, i thought you were a weird fan.”

“understandable; it's probably a weird text , but it me and everything i sent was true.” he said. “it is?” your eyes widened. “s-so he really does want to film with me?” you asked. “yes , he does.” you wanted to squeal , but you didn't want to seem desperate. “oh that's cool.” you said. “oh that's cool?” ryujin whispered to herself. “shut up.” you gritted through your teeth. “excuse me.”

“oh nothing.” you said. “oh okay, well first thing, we set up a meeting with you both.” he said. “just so when you film it won't be too awkward , then we film.”

“that's it?” you said. “that's it , you both show up to film, we'll provide everything else for you.” you looked at your friends who nodded their heads. “how does that sound?” he said. “i guess that's fine.” you said. “great! i’ll let him know, are you free tomorrow?”

“tomorrow? uh yeah sure im free.” you said. “great i'll send the address where to meet us see you tomorrow!” you hung up the phone. “oh my god i can't believe that just happened.” you tossed the phone down on the bed. “this is crazy , you get to film with lee jeno.” haechan said. “i almost want to be in your shoes.”

the next day you got ready for the meeting; putting on your best outfit — so you wouldn't feel so nervous, and maybe to impress them a little. jaemin had sent you the address the night before and lucky for you it was in walking distance from your place. “im almost there's , so I'll call you back when it's over.” you said the restaurant in your view. “you better and be careful , just cause there hasn't been a serial killer porn star, doesn't mean there can't be one.” ryujin ordered. “okay im here.”

you quickly said your goodbyes, before hanging up. you reached for the door , walking into the restaurant. you looked down at your phone, ready to send the man a text when someone tapped your shoulders. “yn?”

“oh hi.” you smiled. “i was just about to text you.” you put your phone away. “you're right on time , jeno is over there.” he said “let's go.” your hands were sweating from nerves as you approached the table , the man himself coming into view. “don't be nervous, he's not as intimidating as he looks on camera.” he said. “jeno.”

the boy looked up from his phone; and he almost did a double take. you really didn't look like what you did for work; gorgeous? yes. but he just couldn't see you doing what he saw you do the night before. “oh shit.” he stood up. “hey.” he said , holding his hands out. you reached for his hand , shaking it. “h-hi.”

“both of you sit down , sit down and get comfortable.” jaemin said. “before i give you some space , let's go over the details.” he sat down. “okay.” you smiled.

jeno didn't need to listen; jaemin would just repeat it over for him — instead he just looked at you, studying you. he watched you fiddle with your nails while listening to his friend intently. his eyes traveling down to your lips, biting the bottom one. “jeno?” jaemin knocked him out of his thoughts. “what?” he watched you shuffle in your seat. “i said you understand all that?”

“yeah , yeah i do.” he said. jaemin knew he didn't , but he'd explain later. “we filming on wednesday, it will only take one day , but it's a all day shoot is that fine?” you nodded. “of course.” you said. “that works for me.”

“good , now i'll give you both some time to get to know each other.” he stood up. “i’ll get you both some food as well.” he walked away. “thank you.” you called out, it fully hit you that you were left alone with jeno again , he smirked watching you shy away once again. “i guess this is the real you.”

“h-huh?” you asked , he sat up; putting his elbows on the table, watching you. “the bows really do change how one would look at you.” your hand came to your head. “no , keep them in , don't take them out.” your hands immediately went to your lap. “cute.”

“me-me?” you gulped. “is anyone else sitting there love?” your cheeks were flushed , to jeno it was like your already pink cheeks were now red. “here you guys go.” jaemin came back with two plates. “i ordered enough steak for you to share , and some pasta.” he said. “i’ll leave you two , jeno play nice , she's perfect for this and we don't need you scaring her off.”

“go ahead.” he said. “eat.” you picked up the fork nervously, picking up a slice of the meat. “now put to your mouth and eat it.” it felt like he was gonna eat you alive , you put the steak to your mouth , biting it. “good girl , i can already tell im gonna like you.”

“so tell me , why'd you want to do this?” jeno asked. “do-do what?” you asked. “do I need to spell it out baby , porn what made you want to do this?” he said. “most camgirls stick to that.” you sat the fork down , taking a sip of water. “well it's kinda stupid.” you said , he waved you off. “tell me.” he said. “well my friends told me i’d be good at it.” you said. “and you just listened to them?” he raised his eyebrows. “you must agree with them.”

“i guess.” you said. “i didn't really understand what they meant by that.” he sat back listening. “i do.” he really did , truth is jeno spent the night before watching your past streams , and fuck did you put on a performance. he had to force himself to put his phone down before he started shooting blanks , his hands and his cock covered in his cum as your moans played over and over on his phone. “well why do you do it?”

“me?” he asked , shrugging. “because i like to fuck.” he laughed, watching your eyes widen. “don't look so surprised baby it's really not that surprising,” he said. “i like to fuck and i like making money , why not do both?” jeno never wanted to be a pornstar , his main dream was to be a model , turns out it wasn't that easy — but it was easy to pick up a camera and film himself fucking. “b-but you're a model , you don't need to do this.”

“you're right i don't , but here we are.” he eyed you up and down , eyes shamelessly stopping at your bust. “just like you.” he said. “y-yeah.”

“you've watched a few of my videos haven't you?” he asked. “i watched yours.” you wanted to lie , but how could you when he was being so truthful. “a few.” you gulped. “so you know im not gonna go easy on you right?” the way he talked so confidently it sent shivers down your spine. “but im sure you can take it right?” your body hot. “i mean im bigger than what you've taken but im sure you can learn to take it right?”

“i can take it.” you said, quickly covering your mouth. “yeah? let's see on thursday.” he bit his lip. “give me your phone.” he said. “here.” you handed it to him. “you listen well , i fucking love that.” he typed down his number. “i don't give my number out to every actress.” he said, handing you your phone back , jaemin returning back to the table. “we have to go soon.”

“that's too bad , we were just getting to know each other.” reaching for your card. “relax , im paying.” jeno said. “i-i have money.” you said. “i'm sure you do , but i didn't ask.” he said. “yn do you need a uber?” jaemin asked, but you were too busy making googly eyes at jeno. “oh no , i-i live a few minutes away.” jaemin nodded. “well it was nice to meet you , why don't you head out first and we'll stay behind and settle this.” you smiled. “thank you.”

“just show up on wednesday as you are ready to film.” you nodded. “of course!” you smiled, about to walk away when jeno grabbed your hand. “your phone love.” you took it from his hands. “thank you.” and just like that , the boys watched you leave out. “you done making googly eyes?” jaemin said. “can i take you home so i can get to my date?” jeno rolled his eyes. “hey don't get upset with me, nothing stopped you from following behind her and getting a pre show of wednesday.”

wednesday came quick; you have a busy few days before — you wanted everything perfect , getting your hair done; waxing your eyebrows and other areas. you hadn't used the number jeno gave you , scared to use it , even though your friends encouraged you too. “you're about to have his cock inside you , this phone call would be nothing.”

still you didn't budge; it probably didn't even bother the boy, he could've easily called someone else.

the production had arranged for a car to pick you up from your place to take you to a location; you read the script on the way there , it was a simple script since it was your first project on this scale — something about neighbors. it really didn't matter to you, you were excited but nervous. “we're here miss.” it was an actual house; a nice one.

you got up to the car , thanking the driver. “okay.” you said to yourself. “let's do this.” you said, the door was open so you just walked in , people running around, cameras and lights everywhere. “you must be yn?” a woman came up to you. “hi?” you said. “you are?” she smiled. “im kim , I run the production company that films the videos jeno is in.” she said. “you do?”

“yes i do; is it a little weird because im a woman?” you shook your head. “no of course not!” you said she laughed. “we're all about comfortability, to make sure you and the actor are both comfortable.” she said. “jeno is already on set , he's normally never here early.” she said. “actually he's normally late.” she said. “but enough about him , let's get you to your dressing room.”

she guided you to your room, opening the door. “this is your first shoot so i wanted to make sure everything was perfect.” she held your back guiding you in. “we have a stylist that will help you , along with make up who will make you even more beautiful.” she was extremely nice. “thank you so much.” you said. “don't worry about it , just get relaxed and ready to film some scenes.” she said. “the stylist will be in here soon , make-up as well.”

she left you alone after that , you looked around the room , she laid out a display of snacks that made you smile — your phone ringing , you took it out of your pocket , furrowing your eyebrows at the unrecognizable number. “so your phone does work.” you recognized the room , whipping around. “je-jeno.”

he walked into the room. “it's been a busy week.” you said. “yeah?” you nodded. “you aren't wearing the bows today,” he said. “gonna tell the stylist to change that.” you nervously took a step back. “i like the bows , let's put them in the movie.” you nodded. “ok-okay.” he was close enough to smell his cologne. “relax , im not gonna bite.” he said. “at least not now.” you squeaked as he pressed against you. “later im not promising anything.”

“i could definitely take you right here right now.” he confessed. “give you a quick training on taking me before later.” he said, his body looming over you. “but i kinda want to wait until later.” he smirked , your knees almost buckling under you. “let's wait until later, yeah?” he said. “ye-yeah.” you sighed in relief when he stepped back , finally letting you breathe. “i’ll see you in a bit love.”

you didn't have time to process what just happened before the stylist and the makeup artist both shuffled in. “out jeno out we have to get her ready.” he was quickly pushed out. “gosh.” the stylist said. “he's never here this early all of sudden he's early.” the makeup artist turned to you. “well there's the reason right there, you are gorgeous.” you smiled. “th-thank you.”

“let's get you ready.”

the outfit wasn't much different from what you normally wear , just a lingerie version meaning it was much shorter; so short you could see your ass , poking from your panties — but it was still cute. “you look pretty.” the stylist said, picking up the bows. “per jenos request, hope you don't mind.” she placed the bow in your hair. “done.”

they left , kim returning soon after. “you ready.” you nodded. “let's go.” she guided you to the front where the scene would take place , the cameras ready. “yn , hey.” jaemin said. “oh hi.” you waved back. “you look nice , you ready?” you nodded. “i'm a little nervous , this is much different than my room.”

“don't worry about it; it's your first big production.” he said. “just do your best.” he reassured you. “jeno is done with make-up so we should be starting — five minutes!” someone shouted , you giggled. “in five minutes.” he said. “good luck.”

“the scene starts with you in the kitchen.” the producer guided you to the kitchen , leaving you alone. you leaned over the counter , scrolling through your phone while you waited. “you look too good right now.” jeno caged you in between his arms. “th-thank you , you smell nice.” it just slipped out your mouth. “oh , i-i di-didn’t — you smell nice too.” he said , your cheeks were already red enough. “makes me want to eat you up right here.” he didn't know how much he really was effecting you , anymore of what he would be doing and you'd be begging him to fuck you right there. “okay actors , get in position!”

“good luck princess.” he walked away, leaving you to pull yourself together and get ready for the scene. “are they actors ready?” everyone got into position. “okay, rolling in 5…4…3…2…1 , start !”

the scene went exceptionally well; it was build up scene that leads up to the actual sex scene — but even those scenes were hot and heavy; at least jeno made it like that. it took a few hours to film , making sure to get every angle. “okay great, the next scene jeno you what to do.”

jeno didn't know if he had it in him; the resistance as the camera guy yelled for the scene to start again — the strength to hold himself together once he got his lips on you; he was a professional, but with you it felt like his very first scene.

“you can do what you want.” you spoke up , back into character , you were a natural — almost like you were talking to him outside of character. “what did you say?” he said , damn near forgetting his line. you looked down at your fingers. “to me , you can do what you want to me.”

there was the girl from the streams; it flicked just like that; your other persona , the one from the restaurant that told him you could take it — and he was about to put it to the test. “i can?” his big hand wrapping around your neck. “you don't know me that well but you'd let me do what i want to you?”

that was basically your current situation with the man; yeah you had only met him four days ago, but you'd let him do whatever he wanted , on and off camera. “y-yes.”

“that's real whore like of you.” his hand squeezed your throat. “real whore like.” he said, slamming his lips against yours. unfortunately the scene took place on a couch so he didn't have much room to work with , but it didn't mean anything to him — besides he'll just fuck you into your mattress on another day.

the kiss was rough; his hand squeezing your throat as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. “fuck.” he cursed, pulling away. “get on your knees.” he pushed you down , the camera close to your face as he unbuckled his pants. “gonna fuck your face.” he pulled his cock out , it was definitely bigger than the dildos you were use to. “hey.” he slapped your face. “come on, be a good whore and suck my cock.”

he grabbed the base of his cock , slapping it on your cheek. “open slut.” he shoved his length inside your mouth , and much like your previous streams , you took him into your throat without gagging. “yeah , fuck swallowing my fucking cock like that.” he groaned , holding the back of your head moving you up and down on his thick length , also moving his hips. “cock sucking slut , how many cocks has this throat taken?”

he was using your mouth; the cameras all there filming it turned you on even more , the many people watching in the room as he fucked your face made you hornier. “yeah fuck!” he had to force himself out of you so he wouldn't cum fast. “get up.” he pulled you up , throwing you to the couch. “ass up, now slut.”

he pulled the dress up , revealing the matching color set they put you in. “dumb slut is wet from sucking cock.” he slapped your ass , you moaned , he pulled your panties down , your folds covered in your slick. “messy pussy , gonna stuff you full of my cock.” he maneuvered your body on the small couch. “arch your back.”

he pushed your head down on the couch seat. “gonna make you take it all at once.” your whimpering turned into screams as he abruptly shoved his entire length into your pussy. “hell you're fucking tight.” he groaned , pulling out slamming back inside. “fuck!” he began to fuck into you , holding the back of your neck. “such a whore.”

his thrust were brutal and unrelentless; the camera catching everything — his cock stretching you out more than you've ever been, the squelching sounds from your cunt it was embarrassing, having people hear that ; but the embarrassment soon was forgotten as he went deeper. “my fuck -oh my- oh my fucking god.”

he let out a lust filled chuckle. “so stupid baby.” he slapped your ass. “my cock really made your brain turn to mush.” he abruptly pulled out of you , slapping your ass , your legs shook. “turn around.” he flipped you on your back.

you looked up at him with teary wide eyes. but he could see the lust in them. “that innocent look doesn't work on me.” he slapped your cunt. “i can see through whores like you.” he lined his cock up with your hole. “innocent looking but ready to take any cock they can get.”

this new angle had you reaching for anything , jenos arm; the couch cushion — his cock had you grabbing at the air. he pulled down the front of the lingerie , your tits now bouncing along with his thrust. the rumors proving to be true as you felt your orgasm approaching. “you're clenching around me , fuck your pussy is suffocating my cock.” he growled. “fuck im gonna cum!” you screamed out. “cum slut , wet my cock with your cum.”

he had your legs open wide , holding your shaking thighs. “cum.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came, soaking his stomach and the seat below you. a high pitched moan coming from your mouth as he kept going. “fuck keep cumming on my cock.” he slapped your poor clit rubbing rubbing it. “yeah im gonna - fuck - im gonna cum.” he groaned. “fuck im gonna cum all over your face.”

he pulled out of your twitching hole , standing over your face , stroking his cock. the camera was up close again as he came — and he came a lot. he groaned, throwing his head back as he covered you in his seed. “fuck.”

you laid out on the couch , his thumb still rubbing at your clit as your reached your final orgasm , your thighs shaking uncontrollably. “cut!”

jeno almost forgot about the camera; ready to bring you to another orgasm. “je-jeno.” your shaking voice pulled him from his horny state. “shit im sorry.” he pulled away , desperately wanting to taste you. “almost made you squirt again.” he smirked. “now how would we explain that? because the camera is off.”

“get her a cover.” he shouted , someone running over to you both , he covered your body. “jeno.” they handed him a robe. “you did so good.” the staff handing you fluids. “felt like watching a couple have sex , you're a natural girl.” you nodded with a smile. “are you a natural princess?” jeno spoke up once they were gone. “or is it because those screams were real?”

you lowered your head , shying away from his gaze. “don't hide from me now , i know your real persona , and these cameras maybe done rolling, but i'm not done with you yet.” he whispered , just as you were pulled from your seat by a staff member and whisked back to your room. “you ready to go?” jaemin came over. “no need to drive me home tonight,” he said. “why not?” asked Jaemin.

“because im not going home tonight.”

©️LUVYENI

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 9

in which we find out how the morning after went for fem!reader. you finally share with spencer after unanticipated anxieties come up. you're continually shocked by his affection for you.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ (angst, fluff) warnings/tags: (preface none of the bad stuff is done by spencer) sexual harassment, slut shaming, non consensual voyeurism of sorts, blood + pain from losing virginity, talk of rape (nothing like that actually happens), implied nonspecific age gap (someone says he looks slightly older than you) non sexual nudity, showering together, intimacy, ewww being in love is embarrassing a/n: I honestly was not gonna post this today but I decided to bc it's just Tumblr its not that deep also you can probably tell I am just creating problems bc I don't wanna let go of them...... ik this is supposed to be a smutty series btw and trust good things come to those who wait!!!but anyways idk what I'm doing and I kinda hate this!! lolol!!!

Friday morning

The air is thick when you wake up—the angle of the sun through the window is lower than usual, and the binding weight of your limbs as you struggle to stretch in place all suggest that you’ve slept in. 

But you don’t check the time quite yet—for a moment, you simply lie there, studying the pattern on your ceiling, downloading the events of the previous night. 

Flashes of skin on skin, lips, breaths, whispers, promises. Phantom sensations. 

Was it even real?

Your apartment is deafeningly silent, you realize. And you have that sinking sense, which you can’t quite explain but know to be true—that you are alone. Spencer is gone. You can’t feel him like you’d be able to if he were simply on the couch or in the kitchen. He’s definitely not in bed with you, and the sheets have long gone cold. 

The truth of it renders about as slowly as your sluggish consciousness does, and you frown, not quite sure what to do with that information. Should you be angry? Should you cry?

Mostly you’re confused. 

As soon as you sit up, sore thighs and abs and a strange ache between your legs confirm that last night was not a dream nor a figment of your imagination. You’ll figure out what to do about your twinging body in a moment—for now you rub your eyes and blindly reach for the bedside table, knocking several things to the ground in your quest for your phone. 

It’s not there, you realize, once you actually try to use your eyes. It’s not in bed with you either as you pat the sheets, and it doesn’t materialize as you sit on your knees and shake out the comforter. 

From this venture, however, you learn two things. First, Spencer must’ve taken it upon himself to get you dressed last night, which you have no recollection of, but you doubt you sleepwalked your way into underwear and a big t-shirt; and second—you bled. 

It wasn’t something you were thinking about in the moment, but now, faced with all the evidence and none of the pleasure of last night’s activities, it’s jarring. A stark, unforgiving archipelago of red on a pristine sea of white. 

People say, at its best, sex brings couples closer. Spencer once told you it could facilitate feelings of deeper connection. But here you are, no longer a virgin, and what do you have to show for it? A stronger bond with your boyfriend? He’s not even here. 

All you have is this glaring red stain marring perfectly good sheets. It mocks you, like something you’ve dropped and can’t pick back up. You can’t think looking at it, and you need to think, and so in a fit of frustration you’re pulling the comforter onto the floor, leaning over your mattress and yanking the fitted sheet free. You ball it up in your hands, breathing heavily—and realize you bled through to the mattress. 

Wonderful. 

Spencer’s just at work, you tell yourself, grabbing the first pair of shorts you see and pulling them on before gathering the ruined sheet once more and stomping on aching legs through your apartment to the hallway, not even bothering with shoes. He can’t just play hooky because his clingy girlfriend lost her virginity and needs to be comforted like some previously celibate high school cheerleader.

But you miss him so much it’s making you angry, so much your eyes are stinging and welling with tears of frustration as you shove your bed linens down the trash chute at the end of your floor’s hallway. You’re supposed to be independent. That’s how you’ve always been. Since when does it bother you to wake up alone? It’s just sex. It’s not as big a deal for him as it is for you. Or for anyone. You’re the one overreacting, you’re the one who expects too much. He works for the FBI, for god’s sake. There are people dying, and here you are—

“What’chya got there?”

The gruff voice makes you jump, and you turn around just as the bundle is disappearing down into the hole in the wall. It’s your neighbor, Jerry—the one in the unit right next to you. You’re not happy to see him, especially like this. He’s got a blue 5 o’clock shadow despite the hour, and is clad in ill-fitting gray sweats and a pair of ratty slippers. His distended belly strains at the confines of an oil-stained white shirt, tied with a dingy checkered robe. You barely meet his drooping eyes before looking longingly back at your cracked door down the hall. 

“Just… garbage.” You shift your weight, hiding a wince as you try to find a comfortable position to stand in. Jerry notices this, and you wish his eyes wouldn’t linger on your bare legs like that. 

“Huh. Looks like someone had a late night.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s just noon and you’re still in your PJ’s.”

Disgusting. And who the fuck is he to judge? At least your pajamas are clean. 

You shrug. “Yeah.”

He scratches his bald head. 

“So that boy tired you out pretty good, huh?”

Your stomach drops. Your brain freezes. 

When you don’t reply, he takes the liberty of continuing on. 

“Saw him sneaking out of your apartment in the middle of the night. He looked a little older ’n you. You like ’em older?” His laugh is a cruel bark. “Yeah��� He’s a lucky man. You know, it’s natural for a man to like a younger girl. Fresh meat, ’n all.” You try to speak and can only swallow a gag. Jerry adjusts his stance, hands in pockets like he’s telling you a local news story. “Heard some of it. Sounded like you were putting on quite the show. And sure, a young pretty thing like you? Hell, I would if I could. But I’ll tell you right now, you don’t wanna end up like my daughter. She wasn’t as pretty as you, but still—three kids with three men by the time she was 24. She should'a kept her damn legs closed. You know, she loved to cry rape, but you gotta ask yourself, if your legs are open all the damn time, what do you expect? Back in the day we all knew girls like that—” he bats the air dismissively. “Guess you can’t call ’em sluts anymore—they get what they’re asking for one way or another. See, I think everyone still knows it and they’re just too afraid to say it. So my advice: don’t let yourself get used up, you hear me? Not by men who are gonna ride you hard and put you away wet. So to speak. Men can smell a girl like that from a mile away, and they’ll take it as an open invitation. It’s just human nature.”

When he finally stops talking, the hallway fills with a vacuous silence. It makes your ears ring. Several moments pass, but you’re frozen. Your whole body feels intolerably hot but your blood is freezing. How are you supposed to react? 

“Hello?” He says, voice loud enough to hurt your ears as it echoes. 

Get out of here, your more rational self says to the rest of you, and you mumble something, you don’t even know what, excusing yourself to hurry on stiff legs back down the hall to your door. 

Once inside, you do up every lock on your door, and face your apartment, shoulders tensed practically to your ears and fists clenched so tight your arms are trembling. On autopilot you look around for something to do, but there’s nothing. More importantly, nobody.

I’ll call Spencer. He’ll know what to do. 

No, you won’t, your higher self reminds you. You lost your phone. And besides, it’s clearly not like he wanted to stick around last night. Maybe he doesn’t even like you anymore. 

So you’re stuck here. Stranded. Sharks can smell blood. 

Processing that information, you walk back to your bedroom and close the door behind you—before promptly sinking to the ground and burying your face in the duvet with a deep, silent sob.  

That goes on for a few minutes until you realize you’re too achy and you can’t breathe and you’re forced onto your side, curling up in your blanket on the floor like it’s a nest and not a burial plot. 

You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. A relationship can’t implode twice in 24 hours.  You don’t have your phone. Maybe he’s texted you. 

But is that really all you’re worth? A text sent after the fact? He couldn’t sacrifice a few hours to sleep by your side? Couldn’t even wake you up to say goodbye? You think about the sweet things he’d said afterward—the way he held you, fingers dancing down your spine. Promises he made when you were half asleep in his arms, so sure he’d be there when you woke up. 

Even fucking Jerry the neighbor—who you think might have just sexually harassed you in the hallway—said Spencer should’ve stuck around. 

Fuck. 

No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t even matter. They were just words. 

Heard some of it. Sounded like you put on quite the show. 

Your skin crawls and your stomach turns as you hold yourself tighter. Something that was supposed to be private and special—and some random man not only had a front row seat to your deflowering but felt comfortable talking about it with you. It feels like a violation. Like he crashed a really important party. If you had known you had an audience last night, you never would’ve done it. 

The way he looked at you, tracing your legs with his eyes like he was touching you—

You scramble up from the floor and walk heavily on your knees to the dresser, digging up a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. You should be showering, but you don’t want to deal with your body right now. You just want to hide. 

Friday evening—present

After your conversation, Spencer seems eager to make sure the car ride to his apartment is not reminiscent of the car ride to yours last night—he holds your hand, resting in your lap, bringing your knuckles to his lips at a red light. Every few moments he glances over at you, maybe to appreciate the view (though you doubt it’s especially scenic at the moment) or perhaps to gauge your mood. The further away you get from your apartment building the better you feel, and you try to focus on that. Sure—maybe you had a shit day, but Spencer’s here now, and he didn’t leave you after all. In fact, since finding your phone, you’ve seen the series of very sweet and highly concerned messages he sent over the course of a few hours. They almost make your stomach hurt. It would’ve been really nice to have those earlier. 

He doesn’t ask you any more of the hard questions, but you sense an inquisition in the works and getting closer with every curious glance he gives you. It’s like he’s unwrapping you, layer by layer, using his impressive cognitive faculties to drill through your skull into your brain and deeper still into your soul. 

Back in his apartment you sit awkwardly on the bed. Last time you’d been here, things hadn’t gone so well for you. 

The shower starts in the adjoined bathroom, and Spencer comes out a moment later, warm light seeping into the darkened bedroom. Purple and dark blue mixing with yellow, like a bruise. 

“Hey. Water’s warm.”

You hum, smoothing the material of his neatly made bed with your palm and watching the way it flattens. That had been your doing. You may have thought he was on the verge of breaking up with you last time you slept here, but you didn’t want to leave his home a mess. Didn’t want to leave any evidence of your having been here. 

A moment passes. You thumb at a thread and don’t look up. 

Spencer crosses the space without a word and crouches in front of you, hands coming up to cup the back of your legs, running knee to ankle and up again. 

“Can you tell me what’s going on? Please?” He asks softly. His voice wrings your heart out. Now that you’re in a completely different space, and you’re not so alone anymore, you’re struggling to sort out your feelings. It should be fine. You’re with Spencer. Presumably he still loves you. 

And you still feel terrible. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you whisper. 

“I know,” he says, just as quietly. 

Spencer doesn’t say anything else. I know you don’t want to—and yet. Your lips twist to the side. He’s persistent. Even in his kindness. It’s not the kind of care that falters or buckles when you try turning it away. 

“My neighbor said he c—” 

You’re forced to stop, frowning by how overcome you are. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Worse things have happened to you. 

“He said he could hear us. Last night.”

Spencer’s hands stop on your legs. You can’t meet his eyes. You’re afraid whatever you find there won’t be the right thing. 

“He’s in the unit next to you?”

You nod. “We share a wall.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation and your stomach sinks. He doesn’t understand. 

“What did he say?”

“Just… dumb shit,” you scoff, fiercely wiping away a stray tear. “He said he listened and it sounded like I was putting on quite the show. And then he—and then he told me not to let you… use me up, whatever that means. He called me fresh meat, and said I shouldn’t let you ride me hard and put me away wet, and bad things happen to sluts who can’t keep their legs closed.”

You finish with a sharp inhale, briefly leaning down and covering your face with your hands when you realize how upset you really are. You want to hide it. 

A fraught moment passes. Spencer reaches for your hands, no doubt to try and pull them away from your face. You spare him the trouble, sitting up with a cavalier sniff before he can touch you and brushing your hair behind your ears.  

His voice is uncomfortably quiet. You can’t look at him. “Baby…”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I only told you because you asked.”

It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyway, and so you avoid eye-contact like it’s the plague. Maybe it’s just safe to be mad at him. Maybe he knows that. 

Regardless, you’re not in the mood for coddling. It’s borderline repulsive—like trying to mix oil and water. Anything good slides right off of you because maybe you’re not designed to be able to absorb good things.

Nothing changes for a minute—and then he’s standing, offering you a moment alone as he goes to crank the shower off. 

As soon as he’s gone all the air is vacuumed from your lungs and you crumple, heaving it back in silently as your head spins and your heart races. It’s like your mind is split in two—half is primal, overwhelming panic, and the other a cold observatory eye, full of disdain and scorn for what it deems a severe overreaction to a few nasty comments made hours ago. You’re so tangled up as you curl in on yourself on your side that you can’t even cry. You’re just trying to remember how to breathe, ignoring the crawling feeling up your spine and the tingling heat at the back of your neck. The shower stops on the downbeat of your staggered breath, and then it’s silent. He’ll come back at any minute and see what a mess you’ve become. 

You’ve ruined everything. If only you could’ve kept it to yourself. 

When Spencer reappears in the doorway, and sees you collapsed and curling like paper burnt at the edges, he’s quick to return to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying and failing to brush away hair from your cheek, which is wet—so you were crying—and Spencer shushes you, pushing it away for you as he kneels. 

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m being dramatic, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Of course, at the end of that declaration, a sob wrenches its way from the depths of you, so bright and cleaving you half expect the smell of ozone to follow. You follow it with a blisteringly self-deprecating laugh.

“Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t minimize it.”

His hand is warm where it rests over your cheek, affectionate, but he sounds frustrated. You frown and sniffle. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell me his name.” 

It’s a quiet request, made as gently as his hand cards through the hair at your temple like it’s woven with fragile threads of gold.

“No, Spencer,” you beg, anxiety pooling in your gut and rising in your throat, “please, I don’t want to make it a thing, I don’t want you to talk to him. You’ll just make it worse, it’s fine.”

You look at him imploringly, eyes wide and still welling, hoping to god the gravity of your plead will sink in. His are a bed of coals—somewhere between furious and sympathetic, and you try to appeal to the sympathy. 

“It is not fine. Saying sluts get what’s coming to them is not fine, that is a threat, and I’m not going to talk to him. I’m going to have him fucking arrested.”

You scoff. 

“For talking to me? Yeah, good luck with that. Cops are really known for being helpful when it comes to sexual harassment.”

“Baby. Men who are comfortable violating your boundaries like that are exponentially more likely to commit an actual violent crime. That is not a safe person for you to be around.”

“He’s not gonna rape me, Spencer! He’s just a gross old man! This is why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d make it a bigger deal than it is! You did it last night and you’re doing it now—you think everyone is out to get me!”

To his credit, he doesn’t so much as raise his voice. 

“Of course it’s a big deal. You’re upset.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my own fault.”

Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say. Spencer goes silent for a moment. 

“It’s your fault?”

“Yes. It’s my fault because… because now everyone knows that I’m…”

His voice goes impossibly soft again. “Knows that you’re what?”

“I mean, what did I expect?” You sniffle. “It’s an apartment. If I didn’t want to deal with the consequences, I shouldn’t’ve done it.”

He says your name like it’s a ring he twists around his finger as he tries to think—to gather the right words. 

“The consequences for having sex do not involve punishment or sexual harassment.”

“It’s the result of my actions, so—”

“No, it’s the result of your neighbor being disgusting. I don’t care what he heard, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”

“He—”

“If you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear would you bring it up to the person the next day?”

“Stop interrupting me,” you plead. Spencer looks like he has something to say to that, too, but he swallows it. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I… understand that he shouldn’t have said those things to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he did, and it was really, really uncomfortable and I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna go back now. Maybe that’s dramatic, but…”

You trail off, studying the ceiling as a fresh wash of tears dampen your cheeks. Spencer’s hand slides down your waist as you wipe your face. “I don’t regret the fact that we slept together. I just regret everything that’s happened since, and if I didn’t do it last night, none of this would’ve happened. I feel like he ruined everything.”

The words end on another cry and you put your hand over your eyes like you could stop it all from coming out. You sniffle. Spencer is quiet for a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” he eventually whispers, his own voice threaded with emotion. “I…”

He sighs. You push your hair back and look at him. 

“What?”

He studies you, chewing on his lip like a nervous tick you’ve never seen before. You sit up again, feet balanced on the edge of the bed frame. Spencer’s eyes remain stuck on you. Again, you ask, “What?”

“I didn’t think about it until you brought it up earlier, but—I did see someone. Him, I think, when I went out to my car to get my bag. He was smoking when I came out, and when I got back into the lobby he was waiting for the elevator. We took it up together, he—he said something to me, so I know he saw me going back to you. I don’t know why he made it sound like I left.”

You frown. “What did he say?”

Spencer hesitates. 

“He asked if I had a long night. He was obviously commenting on the fact that I was basically half-dressed and getting an overnight bag from my car at one in the morning, so he could probably gather from context what was going on, but… my point is, he knew I came back and it seems like he was almost trying to make you think I didn’t. So for whatever reason, maybe he was lying about being able to hear you, too. Maybe he just wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s a long shot, Spencer.”

“I know, but… it’s not that long. He obviously gets off on it—and besides, he said you were putting on a show, but you weren’t… you weren’t loud, last night.”

Heats blossoms in your cheeks and you look down at your lap. “Thin walls.”

“Have you ever heard your neighbors before?”

You have to seriously think about it. 

“I’ve heard them yelling…”

“Nothing else?”

Again, you consider it. The answer comes as a surprise. 

“No.”

“Okay, so… does that maybe help a little bit? I really, really don’t want you to feel like last night was a mistake in any way, or let anyone ruin it for you.”

You breathe deeply. “I know. It… it kinda helps, yeah.”

His hands come to the top of your legs. There’s so much genuine care and concern in his eyes. “Yeah?”

Only when you nod does he relax some. His hands skim your thighs, and you set yours on top of his own. For a few breaths, it’s quiet. And then you laugh. 

“What?” Spencer asks, a tentative smile curling his own lips like he doesn’t know if he should be concerned or participate in your mirth. 

“I—I don’t know how to say it without being cheesy,” you admit, sniffling the last of your tears away and smiling softly down at him. 

“I think you should say it.”

You link your fingers with his on your lap, watching the way they twine like it’s what they were meant to do. 

“I was just thinking about how I had, like, the worst day ever. And how much worse it would’ve gotten if you didn’t show up when you did—I would’ve completely spiraled. But you did show up. And how easy it is to kind of compartmentalize, because I have you, and when I’m with you… nothing feels as hard. You make the bad things feel smaller, I guess.”

By the end, it got a lot more real than you’d intended, and your face feels warm, and your stomach is sort of floaty—but you don’t look away from Spencer. You hold his gaze, though it makes you a little nervous, because you want him to know you mean it. 

He inhales, like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t—only looks at you, like you’re beautiful and impossible and a defiance of everything he thought he knew, which was almost everything. To him, you’re expansive. A gorgeous anomaly.

And then he stands, holding his hands out for you. Without question you take them, and he pulls you to your feet, absorbing the momentum that threatens to topple you, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. So tight you have to laugh. 

“I love you,” he says against your shoulder, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head. 

Your humor softens, but doesn’t become inflexible—still tinges your words with the perfect amount of euphoria and relief. “I love you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and your laughter flares again. 

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I’m grateful. I… I feel lucky.”

Always so earnest, so vulnerable, when you’re least expecting it—which should be always, you’re learning. You pull back to look up at him. You don’t want that concession to go unrewarded. 

“Me too,” you say softly. He’s doing that fond thing with his eyes, where they’re all soft and it’s like he’s trying to take in every millimeter of your face. This time when he goes to touch your hair, you have the wherewithal to dodge it. 

“You’re really brave for trying to touch my hair right now.”

“Why?” He asks, utterly bewildered, and the softness of the moment falls away easily, but not without leaving everything smudged and fuzzy around the edges. Everything is still okay. It’s still good. 

“Because it’s dirty,” you laugh, dodging him again and eventually ducking from the circle of his arms entirely. 

“Oh, your hair is dirty? Should we breakup?”

“Hm. I don’t really like when you take on that tone with me.” You’re still half-laughing, dipping and weaving past him toward the bathroom as he tries to get you in his arms again. And then you stop, toes just short of the tile. 

“What is it?” He asks after another moment. You blink, looking at the shower head as it drips. 

“Um—would it be okay if I had a five minute headstart in the shower?”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I just… I need a minute.”

His hand skims your waist as he passes by you through the open door. “Okay. Why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll get the water going again?”

Soon enough, you’re remembering how much better his water pressure is than yours as you stand under the torrent, eyes closed as if in prayer. You definitely could’ve stood to shower earlier in the day. But you had other concerns, earlier, and besides—you were afraid of what you might find. 

And you were right to be. The sex was nice. The aftermath isn’t quite as pretty. 

When Spencer taps on the bathroom door, you’re nervous. 

“You can come in,” you call. 

“You sure? If you want it all to yourself, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

The door creaks open, and gently clicks into place again, and fabric rustles as he undresses, and soon the shower curtain is sliding aside and he’s stepping in. Unsurprisingly, the space feels smaller with him in it—but not small in a bad way. It feels warmer. Again you’re awash in that safe feeling, which you didn’t realize you’d been missing so much today. 

“Hi,” he smiles, a teasing sliver of what you know to be the most brilliant light in the world, and stunning like the rest of him as you watch the water begin to darken his hair. 

“Hello.”

His smile flickers briefly wider like you’re his favorite thing and he just can’t contain his joy, and then it’s easing again, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

In this alien context the idea has your heart pounding—you don’t really understand the concept of casual nudity yet, but you know he’ll respect your earlier wishes to keep it chaste and so you nod. 

Spencer doesn’t take you immediately in his arms like you’d expected—instead his hands find a rest at your collarbones and carefully push your wet hair back over your shoulders—but his eyes aren’t cast quite low enough to be indecent. They connect dots over your chest and neck, and he thumbs at one just over your pulse point. 

“Oh, man,” he laughs, and you think you detect a hint of self-deprecation. “That’s… wow, I didn’t realize I… sorry. They don’t hurt, do they?”

It’s your turn to smile as he’s suddenly over-concerned. 

“No, they don’t hurt.”

“Good.” He looks relieved, but it doesn’t last as his eyes trace lower—though you don’t sense any hunger in it. He’s just taking you in. “How about everywhere else?”

“Um… it’s not bad. Kind of, like… I don’t know. Sore. But it’s not bad.”

“Still?” He frowns, clearly unfazed by your evident embarrassment on the subject. You shrug and avert your eyes. 

“It’s fine. it was worse earlier, so.”

That does not have the calming effect you’d intended. 

“Worse? 1-10, how—”

“Spencer, it’s fine, I promise. It’s only when I—when I move certain ways, I notice. Honestly the… blood… was way more disconcerting to me.”

“Yeah, I saw your bed… sorry for ruining your sheets. I’ll buy you new ones.”

You shrug, watching the water run in rivulets down your arm and branch off into tributaries and waterfalls from your fingers. “You don’t have to do that. It was a collaborative effort.”

Normally this conversation would have you melting into an embarrassed puddle, but something about the tile cocoon of the shower, the humid fog, the proximity, feels safe. The white noise of water on porcelain, the warmth. You go to him at the same time as he comes to you—his arms around your waist, yours slung over his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. Falling asleep standing up has never seemed so plausible until now. 

He presses a kiss to your head. You sigh. 

“Ugh. I don’t want to deal with washing my hair.”

“I can do it,” Spencer immediately offers. You frown. 

“I was—you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was asking.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“It’s a process.”

“I understand.”

“You would have to do it exactly how I say.”

“I am willing to learn. I like taking care of you.”

You’re glad for the hot water, then, and as he washes your hair. You’re not sure if you’re crying at the tenderness of his touch, or the way he loves you like you’re easy to love. You’re too tired to explain it. 

He doesn’t push you, because he never pushes you. 

He just washes your hair. 

-

part ten

[whore4mattsturniolo]

Safeword ♡︎ Matt Sturniolo

warnings: smut (obviously), bdsm themes, degrading, crying, use of safeword, aftercare

And a little girl should be careful, but who's gonna make her?

Matt pounded into you, his rough hands gripping your hips with such strength that there would definitely be bruises the next day. It had been hours of his ruthlesslessness, hardly giving you a break to come down from your high.

"Such a good fuckin' slut," he repeated, his hand coming down for yet another harsh slap against your ass, before soothingly rubbing the red marks he'd left. "Dirty little whore. Always—fuck—always takin' what I give you."

Matt in and out of the bedroom were two completely different people, and you had learned this soon after your first time having sex with him. Outside, he was calm, sweet, and loving. He was gentle and protective, would never dream of hurting you. During the late hours of the night, however. That was a different story.

The quickness in which he would go from whispering sweet nothings into your ear to pushing you on your knees and shoving his cock down your throat made your head spin each time.

He was vulgar. He was rough. He was mean. For hours he would continuously thrust into you, laughing as tears rolled down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

He'd degrade you, calling you a slut and a whore, saying you weren't good for anything but his dick. He'd choke you until your vision started to go fuzzy and the white spots started appearing.

It wasn't that you didn't like it. You loved it, but today just wasn't your day. You had a bad day a work, you were behind on your to-do list, and just overall stressed out. Matt's cruel words didn't help either, they only sent you down a hole of overthinking.

"When those boys start playing too rough, well, who's gonna save her?"

Tears started to form in your eyes, soaking the mattress that Matt pressed your face into, arching your back until he hit that sweet spot, "F-fuck," he moaned, his thrusts growing more erratic. "Mmph—You like it, huh? You like me treating you like the worthless little slut you are?"

He slaps your ass again, harder than before. "I know y'do, baby. I know y'love it...can feel you fuckin' squeezing my cock."

The tears weren't from pleasure, like normal. They were from pain, and hurt. His words cut into you like a dagger, his rough thrusts only making it worse. He wasn't focused on you in this moment, he was only focused on his own pleasure, chasing his high again and again.

You bit the sheets, trying to hold on for him, knowing that once he finally came in you (again), he'd be done, and he'd go back to the sweet, gentle Matt you loved. But you couldn't wait for him. Not this time.

"Remember your safe word"

"V-Vermont," you stuttered, your voice muffled as you slowly lifted your head up from the covered. "Vermont!" The shout sounded more like a sob as your voice broke.

Matt's thrusts slowed, before stopping completely, pulling out of your abused hole and moving to your face. His heart broke as he watched tears fall down your cheeks, your eyes cold and doleful.

"And if everything could come to a stop, just for something she says"

"Hey...s'okay...it's me," he said gently, moving your hair out of your face as he watched you curl into a ball, bringing your knees up to your chest and holding them there. "Did I do somethin'? Did I go too hard?"

"I thought the whole point was you were living on the edge"

Looking up at Matt, you nod, tears still running down your face. "M'sorry," you choke out, your voice quivering with broken sobs. "Just had a bad day. I really need you."

He looks at you with sorrow, frowning at the idea of hurting you. "Fuck, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for going too hard. I'm sorry that you needed me and—and I wasn't there for you," he felt his own voice break. He felt awful. "I'm gonna go run you a bath, okay? Gonna get you cleaned up, and then we'll talk...talk about your day—"

"No," you say softly, reaching out to hold his hand. "Stay. Just stay here with me. Please?"

He stops his movements, before smiling at you and nodding.He lays close to you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "I love you so much," he whispers, kissing the top of your head. "Always."

You smile at his words, your crying subsiding as you feel his warm body next to yours. This was all you wanted. He was all you wanted.

"Remember your safeword"

tags: @bowsandsturniolos @yourmother29 @sweetshuga @sturns-mermaid @leah-sturniolo @spideylana @dykes4chris @sophsturns @freshhhloveee @mattsbunnyxx @slut4christopherr @trevorsgodmother @sosasturns @emely9274 @courta13

[icupblog]

Where did the party go? Last part!!! part 1 part 2

Bruce didn't notice you weren't staying with them at first, it came to him slowly. The realisation that you, his child was elsewhere, away from your home, away from him. The hallways felt colder, the house emptier. Then when at a family dinner he realised, "where's name?" he was met with "why would I know?" "probably up in their room" "father can we focus on more important matters?" none of them were definitive. Where were you, you were only 17, right?

The heels you were wearing click against the cold marble floor of the office. Even though you were an intern and mostly went on coffee runs it still felt rewarding. "hey name, your back" shouts kitty the secretary "did you get mine" she says with a pout "maybeee, you'll have to say the magic word..." "PLEASE give me my coffee I'll love you forever and ever" "here ya go" she squeals as you place her extremely complicated order in front of her. "and in return" she hands you a file "wait seriously" "yup the boss wants you to look over" you give her your brightest smile before snatching the file out of her hands and running to your makeshift office.

When you finally return to your shared apartment you slump against the door before dramatically flopping onto the floor. "Gwen? did you get ice cream?" "It's in the freezer" your room mate shouts in reply. You sigh contently as you grab the bowl before sagging into the couch. "We're going to a party tomorrow" "who's we?" "me and my room mate name" "I've got wooork" "no you don't, day off tomorrow" "Oh so I'm just meant to follow you around on MY day off?" she thinks for a second "yeah, pretty much"

Dick loved his family, to him it was the thing that kept him anchored. He loved hanging out with Damian, annoying Jason and coddling Tim when he was in his obssessive state. He adored cass and steph as he always wanted sisters. You however, were distant? he can't really remember the last time you two had hung out. Were you avoiding him? Surely he hadn't done anything wrong, right? He barely remembers the last time you had shared a meal together let alone seen each other. He had to make it up to you! he searched his contacts for your number only to find he didn't have it? did you change your number or delete it off his phone or something? Why would you do that? do you really hate this family so much? he had to find you and get the answers he needed then after, you could come back home.

You sigh as you look in a floor length mirror, this dress was far too tight and blue. you preferred to stay away from the colours of your siblings. Too many bad memories, besides why would you want to represent some of the worst people in your life. "are you ready name?" Gwen shouts "yeah" you scurry over to the kitchen of your flat where you see your best friends doing- "pre-drinks!" Gwen shouts shoving a shot glass in your hands "c'mon loosen up!" william says from behind her. God they were monsters, they had far too much alcohol tolerance. They duo quickly shove you into the back of an uber before finally reaching a club they both agreed on.

The bright lights constantly flashed in your eyes. You were meant to be out there wasted, however whenever you were drunk you felt helpless, like you needed someone your family so you just took small sips of whatever the bartender gave you, keeping an eye on your friends. You shiver slightly in the chilly air before turning back around to the bar, hoping to get some more of whatever you were having.

Before you could realise anything was happening a leather jacket gets placed around your shoulders. "sorry saw you looking cold" a man says, you were about to shrug it off before you saw his face. You swear you remembered him from somewhere, you just can't put your finger on it. "so what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" "drinking" you say with a smirk, did you used to date him? work with him? were do you know him from? "well last I checked the Waynes normally drink something a lot more expensive than" he gestured towards your drink "this" "how the fuck do you know me?" "woah, I'm Tim's friend, his well- I don't mean to brag but his best friend." "yeah, well me and Tim aren't really running around in the same circles anymore, please leave" you say shoving his jacket into his chest. Honestly of all the people to see here it just had to be someone who knew your brother, or well not just your brother (can you even call him that?) but them. You speed walk over to where William is talking to his boyfriend rick. "Who's bar guy" "freak from my past" "oooh, spicy" you give William a look before turning your back on, Tim's best friend, ew, even thinking about him gave you the creeps. "well the freak is freakly good looking-" "so what" "he's giving you puppy dog eyes-" he's trying to distract me from the fact that I hate my family and anything to do with them" "He's your BROTHER?" "NO, keep your voice down! brother's best friend" "Well if you hate your brother then maybe getting with hotshot over there will make you feel better" "can you leave it?"

"maybee, just maybeee-" "What?" "you need to get laid" you look at him with disgust, "I don't need a man to make myself feel better thanks." "not what I was trying to say" he puts his hands on your shoulder so your staring directly at him "you deserve to be happy, the more you wallow about your past the more upset you'll become, talk to the cute guy. Have fun. loosen up, those are your orders soldier!"

"Remember" he says as he makes you face the raven haired man " let loose, have more than one drink please!" he then pushes you in the direction of the bar and vanishes into the crowd, dragging Rick with him.

You mutter under your breath as you walk back. Tim's best friend gives you an amused look as you settle into the seat he's standing next to "change your mind?" "I was forced to." "Might as well make it worth your while" he says holding out a drink to you. You stare at his face for a second memorizing the way he's looking at you, like your normal, like he's normal, like he's not using you. You could... maybe get used to him. "what was your name aga-" "Conner, can I call you mine?" you shoot him a deadpanned look. "no-"

Jason knew he had done bad things, especially to his family, to Tim to name, to Bruce and Steph and Alfred and-

but that's beside the point, the point is he is trying, to make up for lost time with Dick and Bruce and trying to seek forgiveness with name and Tim. Like for example the other day he had hung out with Tim, it was awkward at first but he managed. They actually had a really good time together. See, he's changed, he's a better man, and now him and his family are thriving. "where's name?" Bruce never fails to have the deepest voice imaginable. "probably up in their room" he answers. Even though you two had had bad times, like when he slightly kidnapped you. You had forgiven him, when you first saw him in the manor you were so scared, you actually looked hilarious, he tried not to laugh. He wasn't going to do anything to you, just wanted to apologise. And he did!

It took you a while to warm up to him, but eventually you were pining for his attention. Not that he really noticed at the moment. Now that he thinks about it, he can't really remember the last time you had annoyed him about something, like what books he liked or whatever small talk you could come up with. Wait where were you?

You could barely open your eyes, it felt like your eyelids weighed a million pounds, god you were so hungover. maybe you could see if Gwen was awake, surely she would be almost as bad as you, right? You should check o- "hey sleepyhead" you squeal quickly and lift yourself up as a presence makes itself known. "thought you would be asleep the whole day," you look beside you as Conner hands you a glass of water "rough night huh?" he jokes. You stare at him in shock, what the hell? "got you something to eat as well there's a nice pastry shop down the road, and I got Gwen to let me back in after I got us something" still in shellshock you grab the water slowly and take small sips. "um, can I ask you a question Conner?" "thought you were calling me Kon?" "sorry?" "nevermind, shoot"

"did we sleep together?" a silence takes hold of your room Conner stares at the ground for a second before looking at you again.

"yes"

You spit out the water in your mouth, "oh my gosh I'm so sorry I just didn- "Oh not like that, we slept in the same bed" you let out a sigh of relief, "we did make out like a lot though" You immediately look down in shame, this was Tim's friend not your's. You can't let yourself think that this guy should be close to you. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that" "Making outs a two way street, you know that right, especially for the type we did, I mea-" "Not just that, your Tim's friend, this was a breach of trust," "thought you didn't like him that much" "i don't but-" "so if you don't like him why do you care what he thinks?" you look up at him as he's sitting on your bed, so out of place in your quaint room.

"well firstly, I have morals" he snickers at you "didn't seem that way to me last night-" you slap him gently on the arm "stop making it seem worse than it was." you look at him for a moment, and in that moment you imagine the possibility of being with him. "my family are complicated people, they- they care about each other. and they don't really care about me as much," Kon looks at you sadly "don't say whatever sappy thing that's in your head. I-I've tried to connect with them, I've tried to be a part of that family but unless they try as well I can't. I know what I am to them and I've made my piece with it. I'm happy here, in Metropolis with my friends, I don't need them anymore but sometimes, I just with I had a family you know." he looks at you for a moment then smiles softly. "I'm sorry about how they treated you," "Nothing for you to be sorry about" you say as you grab his hand. He looks at you, like really looks at you with your 'just got out of bed look' and your soft smile as you cradle your hand in his. He leans in, hoping beyond hope that you'll realise how much he cares about what happened between you two. How he noticed you, even in the manor, through dark hallways you were his guiding light. How when Tim was busy he would peek into your room just to find you sitting there studying, or chatting with a friend, or doing something so mundane he couldn't believe you lived in the same household as the others. You were special and you could be his. If you just leaned in too.

A sudden knock hits the door to the apartment, knocking you and Kon out a daze. You stare at each other for a second before you hear it "I need to see her, sorry" "Who are you?" noisy footsteps reach your door as you stand up to answer whoever visits someone at 8 in the morning. You swing open the door to find- Dick?

"hi" he says sheepishly, as if you'll scream at him for being in your presence, maybe a year ago, maybe a couple of months ago, but now you stare at him silently. "Is something wrong?" "yes and no, you kinda have to have the full story, anywa-" "is someone hurt?" "no-god no, I just came to say hi" you smile, confused at the older brother you've looked up to your whole life stumble over his words " you just did that" "well, by hi I mean like catch up with you. We haven't hung out in forever" "we never hung out in the first place," he looks at you as if you just spoke gibberish "well we can fix that!" he says with a determined look on his face "get changed, we're going!" "now?" "now!" you're laughing now, maybe because your hungover maybe because of how absurd this situation is but nonetheless it gets Dick's attention "What's what" "bro, I'm hungover and got a whole man in my room, the only way we're hanging out is if you calm down to realise that I look like I've been dragged through a hedge, here" you grab a piece of paper and a pen from inside your room being careful not to let Dick look inside, with his newfound attitude you doubt he'll like the fact that Tim's friend is on your bed trying to signal whether or not he should jump out of the window.

You write down your phone number and hand it to him. "I'm free friday, around 2pm" call me if you have to reschedule. "the-there's a man in there?" "no, your hallucinating this is all a dream, go home," You and Gwen succeeded in pushing Dick's catatonic state towards the door. "See you" you say before softly closing the door on his face.

You and Gwen share a look before Kon slowly exits your room. "Is he going to kill me?" "he'll have to go through me first" you say in mock seriousness you turn round to face him, "you got us breakfast?"

Yay it's finally done! Sorry it took so long, I had an english exam, then I overdosed in the hospital. But I'm okay now!!!!!

I'm leaning towards making the reader try and reconcile with the family, as someone who has had mental health problems I just wanna see my pookie happy </3. This might be the last chapter for now, just because I want to look into writing about other things, Still DC though don't worry. I might come back to this series but right now I'm happy with it.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

night alarm. l Joel Miller

Summary: the danger has come

Warnings: angst, fluff, hiding pregnancy, Jackson is attacked. guns, shooting, fire, one dead,

A/N:

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

The next few days passed with palpable tension. Joel had been assigned to guard one of the entrance gates, and patrols left Jackson much more often. Despite your desire, you knew that no one would let you do anything really important. No watches, no patrols, nothing that would tire you out or require much effort. You didn’t fight with Joel or anyone else.

“You’re already doing the most important work, honey,” he said one evening as he went on watch. “Stay home. I’ll feel better knowing you’re here.”

So you stayed. Sometimes you’d visit him on watch, bringing him warm coffee, but the weather was so bad that Joel never let you stay there longer than that.

When the magic date of your second trimester passed, you both breathed a sigh of relief. “We should tell Ellie. She’ll start guessing soon.” You said, looking at the calendar full of crossed-out days.

“We will. When she finally shows up at home.” Joel responded, putting on his jacket.

It was getting dark outside and snow was slowly falling. Joel finally gathered his things and, getting ready to leave, he gave you one more look. The corner of his mouth lifted. "You know... I knew we'd make it this time, but I'm still very happy."

"Me too." You gently touched your belly, which was barely visible for now, but to you it was the center of the world. "Be careful, Joel."

One last kiss and he was gone.

Something suddenly tore you from your sleep. An indescribable explosion, and then another one. You jumped out of bed and ran to the window. What you saw seemed terrifying to you - the fence visible from your window was burning in one place, the sound of the bell echoed throughout the neighborhood, and people ran out into the street. You didn't wait long.

In the darkness, you ran out into the hallway and into Ellie's room.

"Ellie!"

But when you reached the bed, when you grabbed the blanket, you understood immediately - the bed was empty. Ellie probably didn't come back for the night. You fell asleep waiting for her.

Shit.

The sound of the bell pounded in your ears, and you felt your heart doing the same in your chest. Joel had to be alert, you didn't know what was going on there. Ellie left the house, and you promised not to move from there.

"Fuck!" you hissed, throwing yourself around the room, but finally made a decision.

You ran back to the bedroom and quickly started getting dressed. After you zipped up your pants, you went to the closet and took down the box that was lying on the back of the top shelf. Joel kept his revolver there. You started loading it when you heard the front door slam.

"Ellie?!" you screamed, grabbing the extra bullets and quickly leaving the room. You ran down the stairs. "Ellie! Thank God you're here! Joel said we should stay here and..." You looked around and saw someone standing in the middle of the living room. It wasn't Ellie.

It all started so suddenly that Joel didn't immediately realize what was happening. First the sound of the doorbell tore through the darkness of the night, then he heard an explosion and saw fire. At the same time, shots rang out at the side gate. Adrenaline immediately rushed through his blood. People were running, shouting orders, passing weapons to each other.

“They hit the side wall! A few got through!” Jesse shouted.

“Tell Tommy!” Joel shouted back, and pointed to a few men standing next to him. “Come with me! We could use some backup!”

He didn’t have to say it twice. They got into the car and headed toward the burning fence. It wasn’t until they were in the car that Joel realized something that hit him so hard his heart almost stopped—your house was close to where the attackers had broken through.

The lights of another car behind them flashed in the side mirror. No one knew how many had gotten through, but there was no way to risk it. When they stopped at the fence, Joel tightened his grip on his rifle and got out.

“We need to secure this place!” Tommy shouted as he climbed out of the other car. “Move! Move!”

“Do you think there could be more of them?”

“I have no idea. We should check every house, every closet.” He watched the group of men put out the fire, but a moment later someone ran up to them. An older man who lived nearby was wearing a jacket over his pajamas and holding a baseball bat.

“Seven or ten,” he gasped. “They ran between the houses. People barricaded themselves inside, but you never know.”

Tommy looked at the graying man. “Are you sure?”

"Yeah, I saw them from the window. I have trouble sleeping, and the noise was really loud," he confirmed.

Tommy looked at Joel. "We'll have to look around the area. We need more men. It's still a few hours until dawn." Something in his brother's gaze suddenly made him uneasy. He'd seen something like that in his brother's eyes before. He wanted to say something, but then he heard Jesse.

"Ellie?! What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was at Dina's, we were watching some movies and... What the fuck happened?" she said, "Joel?"

Joel stared at her, speechless. If Ellie was here, that meant you were home alone. He turned, looking in the direction where your house stood, a few streets apart. An icy chill ran down his spine.

"We caught two of them! The third one is dead!" someone called out from the darkness.

Tommy was saying something, but he couldn't hear him anymore. The blood was rushing in his ears and his legs were moving on their own. Then he remembered running down the street where people were coming out, where there was constant traffic. But he had to know, had to know that you were safe, that his fears were unfounded. After all, your house wasn't that close to the fence, the chance that someone would reach you, that they would choose this house.

When Joel ran onto your street, he saw the house in darkness. He almost calmed down. He heard Ellie and Dina screaming, trying to catch up with him. Behind them, one of the cars was approaching him.

He took a deep breath, filling his aching lungs with air, it only took a few seconds, and then, as he took a few steps, he heard a shot. And another one, and another.

He didn't remember how he got to the porch. The door almost fell off its hinges when he hit it with his shoulder, breaking the lock. Silence. The darkness and silence were terrifying.

He shouted your name. He saw an overturned chair, some junk scattered on the floor. He heard a noise in the hallway, and went in that direction. In the light of the car headlights that came through the window, he saw you sitting against the wall, still clutching his revolver in your hand.

"Baby!"

In the blink of an eye, he was by your side, kneeling and taking your face in his hands. You were terrified, but you were alive. It took him a moment to see the body of a man lying nearby.

"I thought it was Ellie..." you said quietly, "He surprised me..."

"Did he do something to you?" Joel asked, brushing your hair away from your face, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head. "He wanted to, but... I had your gun."

"My girl."

Tears welled up in your eyes. Joel hugged you without hesitation, feeling your hands tighten around his jacket. You were safe, you were alive.

Footsteps on the porch signaled that others had arrived at the house as well. Ellie looked like she was on the verge of despair as she fell into your arms.

"You're a fucking badass!" she sobbed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry you were alone."

You hugged her tightly. "You're safe, that's the most important thing." You kissed her on the head. Joel's gaze met yours. The question he wanted to ask you was clear in his eyes. "I'm really okay."

"You should go to the clinic. Morris will check if you and the baby..."

"Baby?!" Ellie sat up and looked at Joel as if he had gone crazy. Her gaze shifted to your face. "Are you... Again? Really?!"

"This is not how you should find out, I'm sorry." You sighed, but Ellie didn't let you finish.

"I'll take you to the clinic. Me and Dina."

Joel nodded. "You'll stay there until I come get you." Seeing your look, he quickly added, "You'll wait for me there. We have to make sure we catch them all."

You knew there was no point in arguing with Joel and you didn't even want to. So you let them take you to the clinic, and Ellie and Dina didn't leave your side for a moment. When Morris examined you and did the ultrasound, both girls were absolutely thrilled when they saw the faint shape on the screen.

"A baby..." Ellie whispered, her eyes widening, "How can someone be so fucking small?"

"You know the baby can hear you too?" Morris asked, still staring intently at the screen.

"Shit! Sorry."

“Don’t worry.” He smiled at Ellie before turning to you. “Everything seems fine. The baby’s growing. How are you feeling?”

“Good. I’m a little more sleepy, but I don’t have any nausea or other discomfort.”

“You almost threw up your stomach last time.” Ellie noticed, and Dina nudged her in the side. “What? That’s true!”

Morris turned off the equipment and handed you some tissues to wipe your stomach. “I think you’re fine. Stay here until the situation in the city clears up. Will Joel come get you?” You nodded. “Good. You’ll get a room and you can rest.”

One of the nurses led you to a room. The clinic was quiet, and the dawn was slowly breaking outside. You weren't sure how long it would take to catch everyone who attacked Jackson. But here you were safe, although your heart was still with Joel and the others.

"So, a baby, huh?" Ellie sat down on the bed.

Dina went to look for something warm to drink and eat, and for the first time you were truly alone. You turned to the girl and smiled slightly.

"What do you think, Ellie?" you asked in a quiet voice.

"That's good, right? I mean, it's like a second chance. Are you afraid?"

"So fucking much." you laughed. "But I guess there's no other way. I just hope that this time..."

"This time everything will be fine, you'll see." the girl interrupted you. You could see the concern in her eyes, but also the certainty of what she was saying: “Joel will take care of you, and I… won’t let anything happen to you or that kid.”

You felt tears well up in your eyes, and your throat tightened painfully. But she noticed, stood up, and came over to hug you.

“You’re going to be fat,” she mumbled, and you giggled. “And Joel will still be crazy about you. You’ll be great parents. You already are.”

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait @mmmunson @grace-928 @umadirectioner

[sylluvschoso]

down boy! (choso kamo x reader)

cw: afab reader, dubcon, choso is metaphorically described as a puppy but he's biologically human, somnophilia, choso is the goodest boy, there's no sex education in tengen's barrier

The worst part of dating a cursed womb is having to teach him right and wrong when it comes to things that only humans know about.

It's almost like adopting a puppy. His desires and instincts have to be curbed to fit the mold of how he should be, and it's your job to teach him how to be good.

Unfortunately, this means that Choso usually has to make these mistakes beforehand, so he can then learn that he was being bad. Similarly to all of the people that he killed in Shibuya, it wasn't until after it happened that he learned about morality and what it really means to be human.

Sexually, things can become pretty dubious. Choso is laying awake in bed as you're sleeping soundly beside him; soft, plush legs on full display, pretty face so calm with your mouth slightly open. You've left food on the table again and expect your new puppy to just know not to steal it! You've given him permission to have the treats before... how is he supposed to know that it's not okay right now?

He's not trying to be bad, he's really not. He kisses your shoulders and rubs your hips with his big hands. He does all of the things you taught him, making sure to get you nice and wet with his tongue and work you open with his fingers. He's being so careful to be good, taking such extra care not to hurt you.

His eyes roll back into his head as he slips into you, soft and warm and so inviting. He did everything he was supposed to, so when you sleepily stir, your voice thick with sleep as you utter out, "Cho?" of course your puppy's ears perked up, so happy that you're finally awake because there's nothing he loves more than your attention!

But when you fully come to and your voice rings out, disgusted and upset, "Choso, what the fuck are you doing?" you must as well have just kicked your puppy. His eyes widen as he flinches back. "I- I-" his deep voice starts but can't seem to find the words. He's unsure as to what he did wrong.

"Choso?! While I'm sleeping?? What are you doing?" You seem closed off, almost fearful of him as you cover yourself up with the sheets.

Choso chews on his lip so hard that it might bleed, eyebrows furrowed, tears brimming in his pretty eyelashes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

You sigh deeply, exasperation wearing off as you see how sorry your pretty puppy really is. He really didn't know any better. Of course there weren't lessons in consent during his 150 years locked away from society. Despite how emotionally mature and intelligent he is, there's no way he could've known this. Your gaze softens as you reach a hand out towards his face. "I'm sorry Cho, I didn't mean to get mad at you. It's just not okay to do things like that while I'm sleeping."

He continues to chew on his lip, committing the new rule to memory. He nods and looks up at you. Your puppy, tail between his legs, slowly wagging while he tries to figure out if he's still in trouble. Silently asking if he's still a good boy.

You huff out a small laugh as you reach forward to kiss him slowly. His relief is palpable, his entire body relaxing into your touch. You glance down at his cute flushed dick and you become aware of just how gentle and sweet Choso was with you while you were asleep, you can tell by how wet you are and the lack of pain that he did his best to prep you just like he was taught.

Choso really tries so hard to be a good boy, and good boys deserve treats. You lay back and spread your legs for him again, "Well, I'm awake now," you tease with a grin.

[brawberryz]

⎯⎯ㅤ lollipop chainsaw

Jason Todd × Fem! Reader

Note | English is not my first language | M.list

A | N / I love Lollipop Chainsaw so much, it's a shame there isn't a remake of the game yet, Juliet I love you

TW | Blood, violence, slight mention of mutilation, sexual themes (nothing graphic), Spoilers for the game (mild), Jason is a suck loser because i said so

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Everything had happened so fast; it was a normal morning in high school.

Jason had finally worked up the courage to confess his love for you after school was over.

You met him because he was your tutor once for a literature exam. You were told that if you didn't pass it, you would be stripped of your position as leader of the cheerleaders.

From that moment on, Jason felt that crush in his heart.

Every time he saw you, he felt his cheeks heat up and his heart beat faster than normal, as if he were running a marathon.

Love was strange and unusual for him. He knew there was a good chance you would reject him, and that would make him the laughingstock of the whole school for believing a nerd like him would have a chance with the most popular and beautiful girl in school.

But dreaming wasn't out of the question. He had prepared everything for this special day.

He had written a romantic note; it was a beautiful poem that he would leave in your locker during first period. Putting at the end of the note that you see him after school.

Nothing could go wrong. He'd been planning for months how he would propose and the things he would say if you rejected him, since he didn't want to look like an idiot after your rejection.

But something went wrong, so wrong.

As he walked through the lonely school field, he heard screams coming from the other side.

Out of nowhere, he saw people starting to run desperately, crying for help.

Was this some kind of joke?

"What the-" Before you could complete your sentence, you heard your voice screaming from afar while you were carrying...

A chainsaw!?

"Jason, watch out!!" You screamed with all your might while running as fast as your legs could carry you.

"Uh? What do you mean...?" He turned his head only to find himself staring at what was supposed to be a zombie, A FUCKING ZOMBIE.

"What the hell!?" He could barely react when he felt the zombie lunge at his arm and then bite him.

He felt his flesh tearing apart; even though he had a jacket on, that didn't mean it fully protected him.

He fell to the ground as a scream of pain came out of his mouth. You quickly approached him and cut the zombie in half.

"Oh my god! Jason, are you okay?!" You knelt next to his injured body; you felt his arm begin to spasm.

It was clear he was infected.

"I... oh shit, this hurts-" He gestured in pain as you held him in your arms. Would he sound like a complete virgin if he said out loud that there was something sexy about you holding him like this?

"God, this feels so bad. Everything's ruined now..."

He felt his body go into small spasms, and his mind began to cloud with pain.

"(Name)...there's someone I need to tell you before I become...well, you know, one of them..." You nodded, distressed. He reached for your hand, and you quickly took it, as if you were afraid that everything you had left of him would disappear.

"I know it's stupid to do this when...when I'm about to die, but..." His voice grew fainter and more tired, and with his last breath, he would say how much he felt about you.

"I...I love you (Name)...I love you so much, and you're the best thing that's ever happened to me..."

Jason felt like a complete loser now. He felt like he wanted to cry.

He didn't know if he wanted to cry because of the pain in his arm or because he knew he would die and never have the chance to see you or hear your beautiful voice again. The smile was too loud for his taste, but he still liked it.

"Oh, Jason... I love you to.."

You gave him one of those smiles you always gave everyone, but this time it was special because it was genuine and meant for him.

"Well... that was quite unexpected... I didn't think you'd accept my feelings." He let out a small laugh before feeling his vision blur and his eyes begin to blur.

"Jason, no!"

You could feel his heart begin to slow down and his skin begin to take on a strange color.

The only thing you could hear in that empty space were your sobs as you hugged Jason's body.

"No! I won't let you die!"

You said, quickly getting up from the ground and starting your chainsaw.

"Uh...? What do you mean by that?"

Jason asked, confused. You two were supposed to be having a sad, yet romantic moment.

"Sorry for what I'm about to do, babe!"

You raised your chainsaw and pointed it right at his neck. Jason felt like his soul had just left his body.

"Wait, what? No! (Name), wait a second, you shouldn't-"

His sentence was cut off by the sound of the chainsaw approaching his neck. All he could hear before closing his eyes was a small "I love you!" Which was almost drowned out by his scream of fear as he felt your chainsaw cut into his neck.

And that's how Jason ended up with a head attached to your hip by a chain.

Jason waited for many fates before becoming a zombie, but he never thought you'd perform a ritual to bring him back to life as a disembodied head.

Jason was starting to believe that becoming a zombie wasn't such a bad option after all.

Although he wouldn't lie, there was something about him that he liked being able to feel your ass on the back of his neck.

God, if he still had his cock, it would most likely be hard...

But leaving those virgin thoughts aside, the view from your waist wasn't so bad.

At least he wasn't a mindless zombie walking around the school looking for fresh meat.

Plus, he was a great help when it came to preventing attacks from behind.

He was like a guide since he knew the high school best; they needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.

The school wasn't a safe place and it was too big, and you could easily get lost if you didn't have a map, but you could be sure that Jason would guide you around the place.

"Honey, a zombie on your right!"

Jason warned, while you were too busy slicing into a zombie that crossed your path.

"Thanks, babe!"

You giggled as you cut the zombie in half with your chainsaw.

Jason sometimes wondered where you got so much strength from. He knew that chainsaw was heavy, but you carried it like a bag.

In addition to your amazing acrobatics and jumps, which would easily humiliate any gymnast.

"You've been very quiet this time. Is something wrong, Jay?"

You called him by his usual affectionate nickname. Jason had been much quieter than usual.

Most of the time, he spent talking about some book he'd read or telling jokes that weren't funny but still made you laugh.

"Oh...nothing, it's just..." He hesitated. These last few days had seemed too strange. He'd never thought about being trapped in a school full of zombies with only his head. "I just haven't gotten used to not having...you know...my body."

You nodded, understanding what he was saying. You knew it was a selfish decision to leave him with only his head, but Jason's body was almost completely infected, and his head was the only thing that wasn't infected yet.

"Relax! When we get out of here, I'll get you a new body. There's nothing magic can't fix!"

Jason just laughed at your comment, sometimes wondering how you were still so optimistic after everything you'd been through.

Something in Jason always wondered if you and he were the only survivors.

You tried using an old radio you found, but it wouldn't connect to any network or signal.

"Whatever you say, princess."

A small blush formed on your cheeks at the nickname Jason gave you. He seemed very resistant to the nicknames you gave him, as if he thought he didn't deserve all your affection.

You walked through the abandoned, blood-soaked halls of the school, humming a little song you'd heard on the radio once with your older sister.

"Uh... did you hear that, Jay?"

You said, sharply turning your head toward the sound. A voice crackled as if trying to speak from a broken radio.

"What do you mean-?"

Jason could barely finish his sentence when you ran down the hallway looking for the source of the noise.

Jason felt like his head was jerking from the way you ran and jumped, dodging the zombie bodies and other things lying on the floor.

He could swear he was about to throw up, even though it was biologically impossible since he didn't have a stomach or organs.

"Ugh, we're here," you said tiredly, stopping at the teachers' lounge. The noise was coming from that place, and you were beginning to clearly understand the words of that mysterious person.

But you saw that the room was full of zombies, some of them seemed to have evolved and become more grotesque than they were.

Disgusting.

That's all you could think about when you smelled that unpleasant odor. You braced yourself and started your chainsaw, holding it as if it weighed absolutely nothing to you.

"Jay, get ready, this is going to get A little shaky!"

You didn't let Jason answer and kicked the door open, sending him flying and crashing into a zombie. Great, you already had one eliminated.

"Pretty legs..."

Was all Jason could whisper when he saw you do. My God, what did the high school feed its cheerleaders to make them so strong?

At that moment, Jason felt like a princess in distress, and you were her prince, coming to save her from those horrible zombies.

Although he wouldn't complain either; the last time he was in your arms felt so good.

Jason was too busy fantasizing about being saved by someone as fucking sexy as you that he didn't notice you just killed all the zombies in minutes.

You hated that zombies were so weak. There were very few zombies in the school worth fighting, and you'd already defeated most of them.

You approached the small radio on the table and looked curious, waiting for the person to speak again.

"Is anyone there?"

The voice sounded like a boy's. He seemed worried but curious at the same time.

That voice was enough to snap Jason out of his thoughts. Had he heard correctly?

That voice was all too familiar.

"Oh! Yeah, I'm (name) from Gotham High School. Who are you?"

Your voice remained as happy as ever. At least you knew you and Jason weren't the only survivors.

"Thank God... I thought no one would answer." The boy let out a nervous laugh. You moved the radio so you could hear better since the signal wasn't the best.

While Jason felt like his soul had left his body again, it couldn't be him...

He couldn't. He would feel too humiliated if the person he thought he was turned out to be who he thought.

There was no way this was happening to him. Was this really supposed to happen to him when he was in such a humiliating and pathetic situation?

There was a moment of silence on the radio until that voice spoke again.

"I'm Dick Grayson. It's nice to know there are still survivors."

You just nodded before speaking.

"Well, the truth is, I'm not the only survivor. I'm with my boyfriend, Jason Todd!"

You were too naive to realize the bombshell you dropped when you blurted out those words.

"Jason... Jason Todd!? Wow, I didn't think he'd still be alive. Can you put me through to him?"

Dick seemed cheerful and eager to talk to Jason. It seemed like he was too important to Dick, since the moment you mentioned Jason's name, Dick's tone abruptly changed.

"Well... there's a slight problem with that..."

Shit

This is so corny omg....

While I was writing this I remembered that I had the game installed so I started playing it while I wrote, I know this has nothing to do with it but Juliet was my lesbian hear me out btw🗣🗣🗣

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Who needs true love's kiss when you have a deity!

Summary: Deity reader makes Lilia their familiar to revive him.

TW: Reader kisses Lilia while he's asleep (I swear it's not as weird as it sounds. It's to revive him), Chap 7 spoiler, thing happens to Lilia that I can't specify here cause it's a chap 7 spoiler

Pairing: Lilia x Deity Reader

Note: I'm basing this off of a variety of different media but you'll probably be able to tell that a lot of the inspiration for how everything works and whatnot comes from Kamisama Kiss. However, some of it is also just me bullsh*ting. Also, the pacing is really bad and it's all pretty rushed, but to keep this note short I'll explain more in the note at the end. So, for now, sorry in advance!

The overblot was over, but it appeared that Lilia was as well. That was, until the overwhelming love from his family restarted his heart and whispered air into his lungs.

You watched on as his breathing started once more, but his eyes did not open. His body was revived, but his magic was still weak.

Before you knew it you began walking forward, ignoring Idia's quiet warning that this wasn't the right time. Of course, you knew this was a family matter.

You breezed between Malleus, Silver, and Sebek's forms that were still hunched down over Lilia's body. Before they could ask-

*Kiss*

Malleus and Silver were too shocked to speak, their jaws hanging open. Sebek, however quickly snapped out of his daze. The action was maddening enough, but what was worse was your nonchalant expression as you sat back up on your knees from leaning over Lilia.

In a flash, Sebek had tackled you, pinning you to the ground with fire in his eyes that somehow stayed alight despite the tears trying to drown it.

Chaos erupted once more as people tried to pull Sebek off of your still calm form.

A cough.

Then a groan.

Sebek's fists immediately released your collar as Lilia's form finally came alive.

Lilia shakily tried to sit up and Silver immediately reached behind him to provide support. Sebek rushed over to do the same. The two, joined by Malleus, bawled around Lilia, clutching him tightly as if scared he's slip away again if they let go.

It was a good while later that you finally stood up from where Sebek had had you pinned. You stretched your limbs before wincing slightly and rubbing your lower back. The motion drew attention from the little huddle and Sebek once more got up. He stomped over to you and grabbed your collar, lifting you up slightly.

"YOU-"

"What? Did you want me to let him die again?" One of your arms came up to grip Sebek's wrist just tight enough to make him let you go.

He blinked before his face turned enraged once more, but, before he could lunge at you once more, Malleus spoke up: "Child of man. What was the meaning of your actions? What is this about 'not letting him die once more'"

"Surely you are not arrogant enough to believe that a kiss from you would be one of true love!" Sebek once more barks.

You ignore him and move to kneel next to Lilia. Sebek seems to want to stop you, but Malleus gives him a look and he reluctantly stops. You bring a hand up to Lilia's face and brush his bangs from his forehead, slightly narrowing your eyes as you examine it. Lilia blinks before giving a weak smile and, in an attempt to lighten the mood, jokes: "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Not that anyone here is capable of seeing"

Silver finally speaks up "Prefect. . ."

"Right, sorry. Explanation." you hum, removing your hand from Lilia's forehead "I forged a familiar contract with him." You raise a hand before anyone can freak out "By doing so I transferred a significant amount of my own power to him. He will not die unless I do or the contract is nullified. And, worry not, I will not be facing death anytime soon."

Malleus gives you a doubtful look you'd never seen him direct at you but asks: "Child of man, are you not but a magicless human?"

"I may have never corrected anyone, but I also never said I was- I mean *ahem* no." you clear your throat and clarify properly when you get a handful of agitated looks directed at you. "Anyway, I won't actually expect you to act as a familiar," you look back at Lilia "you will not be forced to do as I say either. That only happens if I put strong emotion and intent behind my words, and I don't plan to do that."

The room falls quiet, the only sound being Idia's quiet, panicked murmurs to himself as he debates if he should leave or not.

"So you kissed me?"

"That's what you focus on-!"

"Yes. That is how the contract is sealed" you cut off Silver's uncharacteristically exasperated comment. "I do apologize for doing so without asking, but I figured it was best to give you the chance to choose."

"Choose?" Malleus mutters.

"If he would like to take my offer, but, also, if he'd like to continue on living."

Malleus, Silver, and Sebek all seem to choke in unison. "What is the meaning of your statement, Human!" Sebek once more grabs your collar, making you sigh.

"You may wish for him to live longer, but, ultimately, it's his choice. I have known many who did not wish to live on after they got a taste of eternity. A long lifespan sounds great until you are actually made to experience it." You once more direct your gaze to Lilia "I will not force you to remain in this existence if it is not what you desire."

"You would kill me?" he ask bluntly, his face somewhat curious and. . .smug?

"No, but I would break the contract. You wouldn't have long after that."

The space around you is unusually quiet and the realization of such makes Lilia scan the room curiously.

"I froze them." you explain "They can hear us, but they won't be able to move or speak. I wish to hear your uninfluenced feelings, Lilia. Of course, if you need time-"

"I accept."

". . .huh?"

"I would be lying if I said I hadn't wished to pass on at points, but. . .I think I can endure a while longer. Afterall, I have yet to see some parts of this world. Nor have I had the chance to see my children finish growing up" his serene and soft expression almost causes a pang in your heart, but then he opens his mouth again "And I have also yet to see them give me grandkids." Lilia cackles.

Despite their frozen states, a blush noticeably creeps onto Silver and Sebek's faces.

"But I have one more question."

"Go ahead."

"If you aren't a human," Lilia smirks and leans in "What are you?~"

With a snap of your fingers the space is unfrozen "It wouldn't be as much fun if I told you." You hum, standing up. A playful pout forms on Lilia's face and you laugh "Alright, Alright. I'm kidding"

A cloud of smoke explodes from your form and when it clears you're attire has been replaced with extravagant silks that drape over your form and drag on the ground making you look nothing short of ethereal. However, what's more alarming are the fox ears now protruding from your head and the nine tails swaying behind you. "I'm a god, of course~"

Perhaps you should have waited to reveal your form so the shrieks of surprise didn't kill your now much more sensitive ears.

Note: I don't think I did very well on the pacing of this one, but I didn't want to make it a whole 50 page manuscript. Anyway, I know the ending is unsatisfying, so if enough people want to see more I'll make another part <3 (I kinda wanna make this a series anyway)

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[carmenlikeme]

COWBOY LIKE ME: PROLOGUE

pairing: Jack Abbot x rescuer!reader

summary: After an unexpected storm hits Pittsburgh, the entire city stops. Floodings and destruction everywhere. Jack ends up trapped for two days at PTMC. When he's finally allowed to be outside, he ends up at the frontlines of the disaster, back to his MASH unit days. Abbot works right next to the rescuers, helping them stabilize patients before they reach the hospital. He meets an interesting person amongst the rescuers, and the magnetic pull is too hard to ignore. Will he give in?

OR

Where Jack Abbot meets an eccentric doctor in the middle of a catastrophe, and finds light in one of the darkest places imaginable.

genre: romance, slowburn (on paper, speedrun irl), hurt/comfort, breakup, happy ending (?), sprinkled comedy, idk what else, highly medically inaccurate, heavy dialogue for the first chapters.

wc: 2.3K

warnings: age gap, (reader is in her late 20's, jack late 40's) major natural disaster, medical trauma, PTSD, mentions of war and violent situations, graphic depiction of injuries, mentions of COVID and death. Will edit as I write more.

a/n: hiii!! this is the prologue of my story, it's mostly a set up of characters and storyline, I hope you enjoy it! I'll be posting chapter one in the next few days hehe

you can find the masterlist HERE!

"How are we doing?"

Gloria asked as she walked into the never welcoming Emergency Room. Robby stood in the middle of the nurse station, his eyes glued to the board as his mind raced to gather his thoughts and course of action. 

He barely registered Gloria’s voice until she stood next to him. He was sure she’d asked something more; her piercing gaze made it obvious. She blinked repeatedly, a silent question, and only then did he snap out of his world and sigh, as if he could handle her right now. As if he could handle anything else right now. 

"So far, so good, but we have a lot of people coming in just seeking shelter. Power is out almost everywhere in Pittsburgh, and according to Abbot, there are already entire neighborhoods that got wiped off the map."

Gloria didn't respond; the only answer between them was lightning and thunder outside the ED. The rain was heavy and unrelenting, but the real problem was the number of traumas they weren’t getting; just a few, something they could handle in a couple of hours. 

That meant people couldn't reach them, and God knows how many would come once the rain stopped.

It also meant that his adrenaline junkies; or as others called them, students, were fidgety, which was never good.

Shit, it even made him fidgety. He didn’t know that looking at all of those empty rooms would make him feel like that.

"Yeah, I heard it's bad. I'm trying to get you as many supplies and food as soon as possible, but all roads are blocked. How's everyone?"

He stopped blinking.

"Skittish, suicidal, damn; I'm sure they're about to jump out of the building at any moment. I would too."

She stayed quiet once again.

"Yeah, I can't reach my family either."

Robby finally looked away from the board, he sighed once more. Gloria didn’t seem to move, she was oddly calm for a situation like that. It wasn’t foreign to her, in all their years working together, she never flinched. Not even at the peak of the COVID crisis, even then, she was counting patient satisfaction scores.

“I’m sorry. I’ll ask Kiara if she can reach them.”

“Thanks. I’ll be in my office if you need something. I heard it’s all hands on deck.”

Just like that, she left before anyone could ask her anything.

Abbot joined the conversation just as Gloria left. He looked a little bit tired, but he was as sharp as ever. On the other side, Robby felt like something horrible was about to happen and he didn't have any form to stop it. Abbot was the complete opposite, a good man in the storm, —no pun intended—, the clear and calm mind in the middle of chaos. Robby would lie if he said he wasn't a little jealous of him sometimes.

Jack didn't ask about Gloria, despite his shameless eavesdropping from behind. Instead, he looked at the board along with Robby. It wasn’t time to activate full emergency protocols, but he knew it was close. Still, that wasn't the intention of his impromptu visit to the nurse station.

"Did you hear? They declared state of emergency, and they're getting rescue teams down here to help us."

It had been a bad couple of days. The rain came out of nowhere, and it only got worse, slow, relentless, and destructive. Before anyone realized, people couldn't leave their houses and some of them were already compromised by the heavy rain. It was still somewhat salvageable but less than 12 hours ago it got worse, with high speed winds that threatened to make everything worse, the city was on pause. Still in the middle of chaos.

Worse part? Immediate response was already at max capacity, and they had barely touched the surface of the catastrophe. 

"Well, I now thank my old concrete apartment complex, at least I know it won't fall apart."

Jack scoffed, his hands going to his face in early defeat. If it weren't for the hospital being in a relatively safe zone, and their emergency protocols in place, he was sure they would be underwater too. But at the moment, it felt like they floating on a bubble under the ocean.

And it could burst at any second.

"Is it true?"

Princess walked towards the two men, her phone in hand, showing them a video. Robby had to put on his glasses to see, but even then, they still weren't sure what they were looking at.

"They say a rescue team from Mexico is coming due to the disaster."

Princess flipped the phone slightly towards her to speed up the video, where now a dozen people with orange jumpsuits could be seen getting ready to board a plane.

Abbot was immediately interested. He’d heard about those rescue groups and knew a bit about them, was never able to see their work up close to thank them for their labor. The wicked part inside of his brain sparked at the idea of seeing that in action.

"They're called topos." Princess’s Filipino accent slipped on the last word.

“Topo? As in mole? Like the animal? That’s Tagalog.” 

“And Spanish.”

Perlah joined the conversation and pulled out her own phone to show them more pictures of the team. She knew a little about them too, but it was also mostly a mystery to her.

"Oh, yeah, I know them. They're like rescue nomads.” Abbot said, finding a granola bar in his pocket and opening it as he spoke. Robby took a piece without asking. Princess and Perlah followed suit, which forced him to find another one for himself.

“What does rescue nomad even mean?” McKay asked, sneaking next to Abbot.

Robby bit the inside of his mouth and took a look at the oddly clean board. No one wanted to say anything, they feared the minute they would mention it, patients would fall from the sky into their ED. Something about everyone gathering there started to bother him. Those were the moments when he needed Shen to crack a joke and hope for the best, maybe even throwing the Q word, and just end their misery altogether. 

“They’re specialized lightweight first responders, any type of disaster you can think of, these guys can be there by yesterday and help you solve it. Last I heard, they were helping people in Spain due to their flooding. They even have K9s they train themselves, but they’re not your standard government issue rescue, they’re all volunteers.”

“Specialized in floodings?” McKay asked as she peeked beside Robby, trying to catch a better glimpse of the people they were talking about.

“Specialized in everything. Flooding, earthquakes, hurricanes, explosions, fires, you name it.”

“Damn, so they’re pretty badass.”

“Oh, so they’re those people who get under the rubble to pull people out?” Perlah scrolled, looking for more videos and pictures. By that moment, Dana was coming back to the nurse station, which immediately made Robby walk away in silence as he knew what was coming.

“Yeah, that’s why they’re called moles.”

“Wait, how do you guys have wi-fi and I can’t even get—?”

“Looking for anything here, folks?” Dana asked, which made Perlah and Princess scatter immediately. McKay tried to be more subtle, turning back slowly as if she’d just been there to grab a chart. Abbot disappeared before anyone even noticed.

“You’re scary.” Robby whispered, taking one of the coffees Dana offered him. She laughed, taking a sip of her own as she settled beside him. “Is your family okay?”

The hospital was safe, it seemed as the only place like that, for now. The worst of the heavy rain started right in the middle of the shift change, so they were working in a forced on-call rotation. Right now, most of the night shift was sleeping, at least the ones who could. 

“Yeah, they left for Florida to visit the grandparents before all of this. At least I know they’re okay. What about you, is Jake okay?”

Jake. A whole unexplored topic for Dana to poke until he caved. Robby looked to the side before laughing to himself.

“He’s good. He’s talking to me now, which is way more than I expected. He and his mom are in a safe zone.”

“Well, yeah. I’m sure he’s feeling guilty about how he talked to you. It’s been almost a year.”

Dana didn’t push further. She didn’t have to. Instead, she stood next to Robby. He knew she was trying to comfort him, but at the same time, Dana would never escape the chance to try and pull him out of the gutter, no matter how much he grumbled about it.

“Stop looking at the board, it’s bad juju,” Samira whispered as she passed by. She had that same energetic bounce as the PittFest mass casualty hit.

“You believe in that stuff?” Robby asked, glancing one more time before walking away.

“You don’t?”.

Sixteen hours and at least two gallons of coffee later, Abbot and Robby started to despise the once beloved cafeteria sandwiches they were eating. Food supplies were still running low, so they were working with what they had and stretching it out as much as possible. But in all honesty, as their once-endless stack of coffee dwindled, things started to get very worrisome.

Doctors could live without food. They’d die within the hour without coffee.

It was noon when the rain stopped, or at least eased enough not to drown anytime you tried to come out. There was still an eerie silence as people mopped the entrance of the ED, but it seemed as if catastrophe was just creeping behind them. The TVs came back on, power was restored all over the hospital but they were told it could disappear again at any second. Gloria still made sure to come back and demand not to use any type of non-essential device, so everyone made sure to charge their phones somewhere she wouldn’t check.

Patients trickled in quietly. The cafeteria, waiting room, and other parts of the first floor turned into a shelter for those who couldn’t get to their home in time, or for the unfortunate unhoused who arrived at the shelters too late. By 2 o’clock, the ED was partially full.

“Hey, Robby,” Dana called from her spot. He walked over, giving Mel a few instructions for an incoming patient. Dana tapped her pen against the desk with a quiet sense of urgency, something she only did when facing a difficult choice. She allowed him to continue speaking even as he stood next to her. 

“Command is asking for backup: emergency, surgery, and a nurse. Oh, and anyone else you can spare. Seems like the rescue guys are working overtime. ETA for transport is ten minutes.”

“Oh, yeah…” Robby looked around, scanning the ED before grabbing one of the phones to call surgery. “Can you call Abbot? He might be sleeping, but I need someone up front when I’m gone.”

“I’ll go wake him up myself. Do you want Jesse or Mateo in the field?”

“Either is good, ask them if— hello?” 

Robby turned around right as Dana headed towards the call rooms, waving goodbye. 

“Yes, Dr. Stevens, command just called. They need at least one from surgery on the field, plus anyone you can spare.” 

He paused, the always unfortunate Whitaker walked by, just close enough for Robby to motion him over. “Garcia? Yes, she’ll be great. We leave in ten. Whitaker! Get a jacket, we’re leaving.”

“A jacket?” Whitaker whispered to himself and walked towards the locker rooms with more urgency than expected.

In the meantime, Robby took a final walk around the ED before heading out, but just as Jack walked next to Dana, go-bag in hand, he knew that wouldn’t be necessary. Jack would tackle him before missing the chance of running point at the triage zone. 

“Get any good sleep?” 

Robby didn’t stop walking, falling in step with Abbot as they reached the ambulance bay. 

“I never miss the feeling of sleeping on the floor, but I’ll manage.”

“You can always steal one of those plastic chairs from the cafeteria.”

“And risk hurting my back again? No, thank you.”

They were the last ones to join the group.

Garcia snapped out of her phone but didn't say anything. Abbot dropped the bag on the ground. Rain needled the pavement, the faint wail of sirens layering over the already high tensions in the air.

“Got everything you need?”

Everyone nodded. Abbot stood in the middle of his newfound team and Robby. Silence filled the cracks. His mind raced to find some reassuring words, but he came out empty. He sucked at it. Finally, the transport unit showed up.

“Any words of encouragement, chief?” Abbot inquired once everyone was settled inside. 

Robby’s gaze hit him, exasperated. 

“Okay then. Let’s go.”

Finally, something broke the silence.

“Uhm, where are we going?”

Garcia, barely spared Whitaker a look, pressed lips into a line. Her fingers squeezed the backpack.

“Triage on site. They need someone to stabilize patients before they reach the hospital.”

Robby held onto the door, Abbot still urged him to say something. But maybe nothing was better.

“The van will take you as close to the disaster zone as possible,” he mumbled. “But there’s about a five-minute walk to reach the rescue teams.”

He paused.

“Good luck.”

Robby stopped himself from closing the door.

“Wait, I forgot.”

He smiled widely, unapologetic. 

“We’re out of coffee, try to bring some back, or else.”

“Coffee?” Garcia snarked back, deadpan. “Even the Waffle House back in Washington is closed. Best I can give you is mud with stevia.” 

“Damn” Mateo muttered. “Not even a limited menu? We’re in deep shit.” 

“I know a Chinese place that’s still open, but they don’t do takeout today. Marco is out.”

Robby sighed in true defeat.

“Then just get the coffee. Organic.”

“Gravel is up to your taste?” Garcia suggested before Robby closed the van’s door for good.

Any sparkle of joy died almost instantly.

The silence was immediately replaced by the rattle of the van. No one said anything, or rather, no one knew what to say. They feared they were getting into something bigger than themselves.

And oh, how true that was. 

© CARMENLIKEME 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, modify or claim as yours.

[leighsartworks216]

Darlin' I'm Right Here

Sylus x gn!Reader

I wrote this at like 3am last night and because I wrote this at 3am last night and then went down a rabbit hole of rereading fanfics, I did not get enough sleep to do any work

Anyway I just think it would be neat if Sylus could carry me around please and thank you

Title from "Butterfly's Repose" by Zabawa

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, caretaking, kissing, cuddling, undressing (and redressing), casual intimacy, established relationship, crying

Word Count: 1,659

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Sylus looks over as the door opens and quietly shuts again. He watches you, a silent observer, as you drop your stuff to the floor and push it aside with your foot. Your movements are sluggish as you pull off your winter coat and the sweatshirt underneath. A low sigh passes your lips as you work at undoing the knots in your boot laces - and that's when he comes over.

You see his shadow, feel his presence, and stand up straight once more. He tilts his head, brow furrowed slightly; you look so tired, so worn out, and moisture is collecting on your lower eyelids. Your pitiful sniff only confirms his suspicions.

He doesn't say anything as he kneels down by your feet. He unties the knots you struggled with moments ago, undoes the laces enough for your feet to slip out easily. You use his shoulder as support when he lifts one foot and slips your boot off, then the other. Both are set aside in a tray where they can continue drying off without dripping melted snow on the wood floors.

You watch him as though in a daze. He stands and your eyes follow, lacking their usual vibrancy and life. They only shine now because of the tears you hold back.

He bends down, gently guiding your arms around his neck. "Hold on, kitten," he orders softly. Your hands lock together behind his head. Your face finds its place tucked in his shoulder, tightly so as to block out the rest of the world around you. His hands hold the back of your thighs as he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his hips.

He feels your breaths just as you feel his. Hears each shuddering inhale and shaky exhale beside his ear. He tilts his head to the side to rest upon yours, rubbing his cheek against your head affectionately. He hopes it really was just a bad day that is upsetting you so much. If he hears even a hint of a whisper that someone said or did something to his darling lover, he won't hesitate to deal with it, permanently.

Each step is a gentle sway, a soothing rocking. You feel like a child clinging to their parent, pretending to be asleep as they carry you to bed. You feel small, but not in a bad way. Small, yet protected. Secure. You cling a little tighter to him and he adjusts your hips higher against him to keep you there.

The villa you've practically claimed as a home is smaller than his usual estates, though still quite large considering only two people live here at any one time. It's much larger than your old apartment. At least here he can actually move around the kitchen comfortably and shower without needing to duck under the spray of the shower head.

He carries you through the familiar floor plan to your bedroom, and then further into the ensuite bathroom. He's immensely careful when he sets you down at last on the countertop beside the sink. Though, he doesn't pull away. Doesn't force you to, either. Instead, he holds your hip and massages at your lower back, giving you the time you need. There's no rush. There's never a rush with him.

With a small inhale to give you strength, you finally pull away. Tears make tracks down your cheeks. A wet spot stains his shirt. He brushes away the tears on one cheek, and kisses them away on the other.

"Do you want to take a shower, sweetie?" he asks. You shake your head. He kisses your cheek again warmly.

Instead of a shower, he reaches into a cabinet and pulls down a washcloth. One handed, he turns on the warm water and holds his fingers under the tap as he waits for it to get to the perfect temperature. The cloth's fabric turns dark once he holds it under the water, soaked through. He squeezes out the excess and turns off the tap, before brushing it gently over your cheeks.

You close your eyes and give in to his tender care. With no sound aside from a sniffle here and there, Sylus wipes away the sticky tear tracks. He soothes the cloth under your eyes, easing out the tension and tiredness with its warmth. You shiver involuntarily when the cloth touches your neck, lightly wetting your throat with enough pressure to avoid tickling you.

Once he's satisfied with his work, he sets the cloth on the side of the sink. His hands, warm and lightly damp, find your hips, then your thighs, wordlessly warning you just before he lifts you up once more.

He doesn't carry you far, just into the bedroom. He rests you at the end of the bed, your legs hanging off to the floor while the rest of your body is laid back against the plush bedding. He kisses your forehead as he gently coaxes your arms from around his neck. "Wait here."

You crack your eyes open to watch as he goes to your dresser. With familiarity, he pulls out a few things, chief among them two types of pants and two types of shirts. He carries them over and sets them on either side of you on the bed. He holds up the pants first.

"Which one?" In one hand is a pair of long pajama pants. In the other, a pair of shorts. You point lazily at one, and he sets them down.

Kneeling down by your feet once more, he removes your socks and your pants. Normally, on any other day, there would be a heat in his gaze. A dripping, dark lust in his eyes as they roam your legs up to your underwear. Now, there's not even a hint of such a thing. He looks at your legs in the same way he looks at his guns as he maintains them, with an undeniable presence of care and dedication, and the warmth of wanting to take care of you in the best ways he knows how. He always claims to be bad at comforting people, yet he finds the perfect ways to tend to you every time.

He slips the pants you chose on you, pulling them up along your legs. You don't even have to lift your hips up - he does so for you with a large hand under your lower back.

"Do you want your fuzzy socks?" He smiles when you nod. You're always so endearing to him. You've perfectly curled within his heart, laying claim to it as your own. Its beats change with your emotions and actions. Right now, it beats softly, but steadily, as your eyes follow him back to the dresser to retrieve a pair of your fuzzy socks and then watch as he slips them onto your feet. It will beat louder tomorrow, he’ll make sure of it.

He stands and lifts up the shirts. One is a baggy t-shirt you "stole" from him a while ago. ("Stole" because Sylus is not a man who often wears t-shirts. This particular shirt is one you bought for him and commanded him to wear for a couple of days leading up to your visit, whereupon you claimed it for yourself.) The other is a tank top. You choose which one you'd rather wear tonight and he sets them aside.

He playfully pulls you into a sit, tangling his fingers with yours and tugging you up to him. He leans down to kiss your head. Warm fingers brush your skin as he removes your shirt from today. It winds up in a pile with your pants and socks.

The shirt you chose is soon pulled over your head. Your arms are guided through just the same. He leans down to make sure it settles comfortably around your body, and you use the opportunity to draw your fingers lightly under his chin. All his focus is on you immediately.

He is completely pliant under your touch. You could do anything - have him do anything. He is at your whim.

With the barest pressure, you draw him in, meeting his lips in a slow, sweet kiss. His lips are always so soft and plush. They don't seek for more than you give, only taking what you decide to offer, without a hint of a complaint. When your fingers fall from his skin, he lightly pulls away, heavy-lidded eyes peeking open to search your face for answers, to know what you want. One more kiss, and one more, before you're satisfied. He pulls away.

Your dirty clothes are dropped into the hamper. The clothes you didn't choose are left on top of your dresser to be put away later. He goes to place you in bed properly, but is stopped by your slight frown and the flicker of your eyes over his clothes. He grins. He can feel your eyes on him as he changes his own clothes, trading them in for some sweatpants that rest low on his hips and a tank top that shows off his arms. You're smiling contentedly when he approaches this time.

He lifts you up, but does not set you down again. Instead, he slips into bed with you in his arms, holding you close as he ensures you're comfortable. Not that you complain; you keep him trapped there with the way your legs hug him and with your head tucked under his chin. He rubs up and down your back with one hand. The other holds your hand over his heart.

The day that upset you feels lightyears away as your body relaxes against Sylus's. The cold and snow outside don't exist as he kisses your head and stops rubbing your back in favor of massaging the back of your neck. No concerns for tomorrow. No worries about what will come next. Just the gentle coaxing of his breaths, luring you into a much needed nap.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one

[asapeveryday]

Bonfire - P. Bueckers

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/F.Reader

Warnings: Drinking, making out

Tl;Dr: You meet this hot chick at a bonfire party, and boy can she kiss

Notes: Hello...unsure if my mutuals remember me lmao it's been little under a year since i wrote for Paige. the uconn w revived me. i also lowk forgot how to write so this is my warm up. and writing kisses is hard so I'm practicing lmfao

Fire crackles from the middle of the field as the usual crowd of UConn kids gather around, fizzy vodka sodas in hand as they socialize. 

The night sky was clear and star-speckled, and your fingers pricked slightly from the midnight wind. Things were more lowkey at this particular bonfire, nobody was in the mood to be busted by small-town cops. 

You mainly stuck to your usual group of friends, a couple of extroverted girls who would chat up all sorts of guys while you hung back on the sidelines. You didn’t mind much, they had their tastes and you had yours. 

Sometimes it was depressing, being at parties like these, surrounded by fraternity guys and preoccupied girls when you’d much rather be finding some game of your own. Still, you were trying to soak in the last of your senior year, game or not.

“Not to be mean…” one of your friends begins, swaying slightly on her feet in a drunken daze, “but like, how do you not feel left out?”

“What?” You ask, snapped out of a daze. People watching was what you usually got up to at these sort of things, and you were currently eyeing a certain well known group amongst people at your school.

“Likee,” she hiccups, dragging out the word. “We’re all going home with guys tonight, girl. Hate to say it.” She pouts, almost condescendingly. “And like, you’re not. I don’t think I’ve even seen you go home with anyone after a party.”

You take in her drunken drawl, keeping your eyes on the group ahead. A flurry of blonde hair catches your eye, pin straight and pretty as she laughs with her friends. Her gaze meets yours for a split second before breaking off.

“How could you?” You scoff. “You’re always so sloshed, I’d be surprised if you knew your own name, let alone who I go home with.”

“Funny.” Your friend grunts. “I’m serious, have a good fuck, find some douche for the night. Stop hanging around like some wallflower, it’s like, depressing.”

“Uhuh.” You hum, a little drop in your stomach as the blonde seems to meet your eye again. This time it’s not by chance in the slightest. Something about her parted lips as her gaze lands on you seems so intentional.

“Hey, listen.” Your friend mumbles, placing a seemingly comforting hand on your shoulder, or maybe it’s to steady herself. “Don’t feel bad. We just want you to have fun! Do you want me to set you up with a guy? I have a guy who would be so good to you. For one night.”

“Uh, okay.” You chide absentmindedly, trying your hardest to keep eye contact with the pretty blonde further in the mass of people. Her eyes part from yours every so often to go back to her friends, but those eyes always come back to you. It’s nerve wracking, like you’re both waiting for something to happen.

“Fuck yes!” Your friend exclaims, practically flashing the public unknowingly. “I’ll find him, don’t go anywhere.”

You’re paying practically zero attention, downing the mostly-full drink in your hand for some extra confidence before working your way through the crowd.

You weren’t exactly sure what your plan was, but you wanted to get a good look at the girl up close. You just had to squeeze through some people and hang around her area inconspicuously.

You finally reach her general area, the fire burning hotter near the middle and the smell of summer-smoke in the air. The light illuminates everyone’s faces with orange and yellow glows against the navy night, music blasts from a stereo nearby. 

You don’t see her anywhere, but you do find a few friends who throw a some drinks at you. You try your best to be social, piercing holes in Twisted-Teas and shotgunning them with as much precision as you can muster. 

The rush of alcohol starts to roll in after your third drink, your body simmering slightly from the heat of everyone around you, and your head feeling lighter, less guarded.

“One more?” Someone calls out, offering a white claw for the ready. 

“I’m good.” You mumble, handing it back. “I should probably stop.”

“Smart idea.” Someone says from behind you, and you laugh. Something about drinking in such close proximity with all these other drunk people was heightening your symptoms like a freakish social experiment.

“Uhuh.” You nod, not bothering to face the person. “I know my limits.” You scoff, happy you’re at least thinking coherently, though you’re not sure if you sound that way.

“You good?” The voice asks, low and taunting as if amused. Her arm brushes against yours in the slightest, and you finally turn to see who it is.

You’re surprised when you have to look up a little more than you expected. The perpetrator cocks her head ever so slightly, blonde hair tied back in a perfectly messy low bun, eyes blue and glinting from the fire light, and her own hand grasping a fizzy looking drink. 

Speaking of hands, the more you focus on her the more you struggle to snap back to reality. You couldn’t help but appreciate the slight veins that lead to her toned arms, your sight moving further up to note her biceps.

“Uhuh.” You murmur, shamelessly checking the girl out. Her lips curl into an ambitious smile, as if she knows exactly how attractive she is. Oh, the sight of her watching you watch her, it’s like your stomach is doing flips.

“D’you say anything other than uhuh?” She scoffs, raising an eyebrow. “Or are you that drunk?”

“Are you?” You shoot back, gesturing with your eyes to the drink in her hand, half empty.

“This is virgin.” She smirks, though you swear you catch her wink in a split second.

“Yeah, and I’m not halfway plastered.” You smile, exaggerating the state of your intoxication. “I’ll let you live in your fantasy if I can live in mine, ’kay Paige?”

You mentally face-palm as soon as you say it. Obviously being this close to the girl, you realized who she was. 

It didn’t matter that everyone at your university knew who she was, you still had hoped you could act like some rare unknowing specimen who could charm her with your lack of knowledge of her fame.

You were not planning of flat out feeding her ego.

Much to your delight, she doesn’t comment on your knowing her name, though her smile does spread into something slightly proud. 

“I’m not lying.” She raises an eyebrow, her expression dead set on challenging. She’s beautiful, her voice is endearing and her presence holds more confidence than you’ve ever seen up close. You hate how your stomach jitters with every movement of her lips.

“Right.”

“I’m not!” She laughs, taking a long sip of her drink before holding it out to you, the straw sliding perfectly in front of your face. “Try me.” Paige hums.

You pause for a moment, eyes darting between her face and her drink. “I’m good.”

“Nah, you wanted to pass some comments, so here.” Paige shrugs, teeth bared in that stupid know-it-all smile, “Drink up.”

With one last glance at her expression to make sure she’s being for real, you lean in slightly. Your lips meet the cheap black straw of her drink, and you gingerly take sip. 

You can feel Paige’s eyes on you, watching you sip from her drink. You somehow find the courage to meet those eyes, hoping to God your lashes fan out just right as your gazes connect.

“Hm.” You mumble as your lips part from the drink, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you hold her stare. “Virgin after all. I’m surprised.” 

Without another word she brings her drink back to her mouth, sipping on the straw like you’d never used it. Her eyes are somewhere else, clearly distracted from the earlier situation. 

You can’t help but feel an air of confidence wash over you at the fact that you’d made her slightly nervous.

"Not a drinker?" You ask, knowing damn well how drunk she gets post-win on her teammate's insta lives.

"Not tonight." Paige hums. "Early practice tomorrow morning."

"Uhuh." You raise an eyebrow, watching as her expression twists with slight annoyance.

"You say that a lot." She scoffs. "You sure you're not shitfaced?"

Suddenly something sparks in your gut. Maybe it's the way her brows furrow, or the way the bonfire-flame-light flickers against her pale skin. You feel adrenaline, or maybe you just feel want.

"I guess I am." You hum, intentionally flitting your eyes from her face to her drink. "Guess I should follow your example, huh."

"What drink was that?" You ask, licking your lips subtly and hoping her gaze catches that. "Need something to sober me up."

"Oh, I doubt this'll do shit." Paige chuckles, eyes amused and strong on you, unbreaking to the point where it might make you shiver.

You just sigh, smiling shyly at her. "Know anyone who will?"

Her brows furrow again, confused for a moment, before you can spy her moment of realization. The way she bites her bottom lip and shakes her head slightly is so cute.

"Sorry," she says, leaning over slightly, her lips almost touching the shell of your ear, "didn't hear you. What'd you say?"

Her breath on your skin, the way you can feel her smile against you. She's amused. On board with what you have in mind? You'll see---but she's definitely interested. You gain some confidence in the fact that you've got this star player in that position.

"I said," you hum, voice sweet, and a little worn from talking over blasting music and students around you, "I need someone who can sober me up."

You lean into her a bit more. The loose hair from her low bun tickles your cheek. "Got anyone in mind?" You murmer.

She parts from you then, and you're a little disappointed. One hand is in her sweatpants pocket, the other holding the rim of her drink. She swishes it around, cocks her head, her eyes move up and down you.

She's not denying you, you realize. She's considering.

Then there's a bit of a step forward, closer than she already is. You know you're asking a lot, for her to do anything with you in public like this is a risk. You can see her think it too, the way she looks around at the drunken kids surrounding the two of you.

Finally, a shy hand slips from her pocket and meets the fabric of whatever skimpy top you've decided to wear out tonight. She toys with it, her fingers slightly tickling the skin of your waist in the process, before she leans into you again.

"How much sobering up do you need?" She hums, her voice says she couldn't care less, but you know that's not the case.

You're hot. Tipsy, voice raspy, clothes flattering. It's warm, the fire-light flickers against your body. You hold her eyes when they meet yours, you watch her lips as they move.

She's not saying no, she's asking you how much, and for how long.

You ignore her original question, opting to answer the real one instead. "It'll be quick." You mumble half against her jaw, before sliding your hands to her face.

Her hand slots perfectly against the crook where your ribcage and hips melt, her lashes brush against your cheek. Her lips are full, she grins against your face like she's got it all. You know she does, you're happy to give anyways, after all you're getting what you want too.

The first is simple. Closed mouth, there and back. Her eyes open as she pulls away, her tongue darts over her plush lips. You taste of southern iced-tea and malt. She tastes like grenadine and sprite.

She leans back in, head titled. This one is different. Lips parted further, more smiles, tongue tickling the back of your lips. You open for her, she pulls back in the slightest before coming back for more.

This is a real kiss. Her fingers grip your skin, you slide one hand to her chest, her tongue darts out, slow, languid. You shiver, you feel this one soak you. She likes your bottom lip, she likes some push and pull, pulling you by the waist, one leg half-lodged between your two.

Your head is swimming---maybe you are drunk. Maybe she's that good. Suddenly you're happy you drank, ecstatic even. You pull away from her after what feels like ages and not long enough. Your lips pop as she breaks from you. Her mouth stays parted, glistening a little around the corners. Her eyes are crescents, sleepy, fucked-out. Your favourite expression on her yet.

You bring your hand to your face, letting your thumb wipe whats left of her from your lips. She was sloppy, you were desperate. You want to see what else she can do.

Her eyes dart around nervously, shoulders relaxing when she realizes nobody is paying attention. Then her eyes settle behind you.

It's your friend---the actual drunk one, and she's got her arm around some tall guy with a drink in his hand, red-faced and half-plastered himself.

"I found your ride home." She winks, pointing at him, then his crotch with a wink and a few mouthed-words that you can't help but cringe from.

You turn back around, wondering what kind of face Paige might be making at the sight of this dude. Wondering if she'd be willing to take you away instead. Maybe show you how else she can sober you up.

You turn, but she's not there. All that's left is that taste of grenadine, dampness in your panties, and the crackling fire.

[valentina-writes]

The Distance He Keeps - Part 2

Azriel x Reader

summary: Finally, you confront Azriel about why he is avoiding you. Later, you find yourself inside his mind, revealing a deep secret about your relationship (I'm really bad at summaries, it's been so long ugh)

warnings: drinking, slight hurt/no comfort, suicidal thoughts if you squint, swearing

word count: 3.4k | part 1 | part 3 | masterlist

A/N: I'm honestly so incredibly happy that so many of you liked the first part! Now, I love men who have the ability to just shut tf up, but Az brings this to a whole other level. So... uhm prepare for some frustration. I promise, he's not an asshole, just incredibly tortured. Anyways, I hope you like it and come back soon for part 3! xx

There was something drawing me towards the roof. A silent calling, a sixth sense attuned to him. Like the air was vibrating softly, showing me his direction. It had been a week since the dinner, since I had last seen him. But still, I was sure that this was new. Maybe I was going insane. It wouldn't surprise me.

I stepped outside onto the small roof terrace. It was near midnight, the sky above Night Court seemingly endless. Millions of stars twinkled down on me; I would never quite get used to the beauty of the nights here. A cool summer breeze hit me and the humming of Velaris reached my ears, the sounds of countless people moving through the streets. But I hardly noticed any of that.

Because there, sitting on one of the two chairs that barely fit on the tiny terrace, was Azriel. His shoulders were tense, his wings half unfolded as if he was about to lurch out of his seat and into the night. His shadows stayed close to him, as if they were trying to guard him. Aloofness was not rare to him, but vigilance like this, I had never seen on him at home.

How do I start? I asked myself. What do I even say? ‘Hey, you’ve been ignoring me and I miss you and I’m in love with you, please come back and stop this bullshit’? How pathetic. I had no plan. The past nights, I had tossed and turned in my bed, imagining our encounter. The only conclusion I had come to was that whatever I’d say, it couldn’t possibly get any worse. Hopefully.

"Don't mind me, I'm leaving in a second", he spoke out, still not turning around. His posture stayed rigid. There was no other indication of him noticing your presence.

Without thinking, I countered: "Oh, so now you're speaking again?". Azriel’s neck tensed. That came out a little meaner than anticipated.

He sighed. "Maybe".

I took the few steps to the other chair and slid into it. Hesitantly, I turned my head towards him. He still wouldn't meet my eyes. Azriel looked tired, his eyes half closed with bags underneath them. His long fingers were clenched around the armrests of his chair. It was evident that he was severely unwell. How long had this been going on for? Maybe I should have pressed harder when he started ignoring me, I realized, and not folded in on myself.

For a while, we sat in silence while I studied him. Then I couldn't bear it anymore. I swallowed the anxiety that had welled up inside me for weeks, tried to calm my flaying nerves. "What is going on, Az, are you okay? Please, we can talk about whatever happened. I miss you”, I pleaded, the last words only a whisper. I quickly shut my mouth before more words could escape my lips. Come back, I thought, come back to me.

The muscles in his jaw tensed and he dropped his head into his hands. "Don't say that. Don't make it harder than it already is".

Desperation grew inside of me. Even if he did not love me back, I would not bury our friendship without at least putting up a fight. “We can work it out. Whatever it is, we can face it together”.

His face twisted in a pained expression. “Cauldron boil me, I wish it were that easy”

"Is this about starfall?", I asked. Finally, our gazes met. Azriel looked defeated. "So it is?". He didn't deny it, so I assumed I was correct. "You're embarrassed at what happend, or what? Do you want to take back what you did and said? Is it because you're scared?". The shadows drew in closer around him, pooling around his chest and neck, as if to guard him.

His voice was agonized when he replied: "You don't understand. You just don't understand and I can't even be mad at you. But I can't be around you like this". Azriel had always been a man of few words, but frustration hit you hard. Why couldn't he give you at least some insight? "Then fucking explain it to me, Az! I can't take this anymore."

There was no hesitation in his voice this time. "Maybe I shouldn't have kissed you."

This felt like a blow to my stomach. All air was knocked right out of me. This day was the happiest I had been in years. I thought about it before falling asleep, in the bathtub and over breakfast. Again and again, I replayed this moment to make sure I hadn't made it up, to hold onto it. And now he was destroying it, crushing it, with a single sentence. Tears welled up in my eyes and I fought to not let them roll.

I hated myself for the crack of my voice, when I asked: "Was it that horrible? Did I disgust you much that you can't even look at me anymore?". Even if he didn't love me -

"Don't you ever think about yourself like that", he practically growled, "you, out of all people, have no business believing that". He was angry now, as if he couldn't even understand how I could think that. His words confused me. One second he said he shouldn't have kissed me and now this?

"Then what is it, Az? What happened to 'I will always find you'? Talk to me please. Make me understand", I begged. My hand reached out to thread through his fingers, but he escaped my grasp, stood up and leaned against the terrace fence.

There was a long pause. I almost thought he wouldn't answer. Then, quietly, almost desparately: "Can't you feel it?"

What did he mean? Why did he always have to be so cryptic? "I feel that you're drifting away from me and I can't get ahold of you. LIke I'm reaching out and begging and with every try, you float further away".

His hands gripped the banister so tightly his knuckles turned white and a sad smile crossed his face. "That's how I feel about you as well."

"What did I do wrong? Please. I'm right here, you're not losing me". I would plead on my knees before letting go. There was nothing I wouldn't do to get him back. Even if he regretted the kiss, I would not lose my best friend. My better half.

When he glanced back at me, the look in his eyes broke me. The spark in them was gone, the glint I had come to love dimmed. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault". The sadness seeped out of him, his shadows now concealing almost every part of him, except for his face. I had never seen him like this. "Please, give me some space. I - I'll tell you. Just this once, please". Without waiting for my answer, he jumped over the low fencing around the rooftop terrace and flew into the night. And left me alone with my thoughts. Only then did my tears start to run.

How did it go?

Fuck off, Rhysand

I woke up in the middle of the night, my throat dry, my heart hammering.

"Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

The words that left my mouth weren't my own. Neither was my voice. What was going on? I still felt half asleep.

"I thought Y/N would figure it out herself. It was so painfully obvious in her memories, but she just didn't connect the dots. Pretty ironic considering her job". I couldn't focus on my surroundings, still only half conscious. All I could register were the big violet eyes staring at me.

Anger flared up at the other person's words, but it wasn't mine. I could feel it, but it was somehow...foreign. Rhys was talking to me, I realized. But it wasn't me, really. The body I was in was taller, the angle I saw everything from was wrong. And the hands that were brought up to sweep the stray hairs out of my eyes were tan, scarred and surrounded by shadows. I was inside Azriel's mind. Suddenly, I was wide awake. Why was I here? How did I even get into this situation?

"What was she thinking about?", Azriel asked. Rhysand gave me - no - Azriel a long look. Azriel was back at the townhouse and they were speaking about my previous talk with Rhys, it seemed. Curiosity took over the confusion within me. I longed to know what Azriel would say about me. Would he tell Rhys the reason for his behavior?

"I think you know. I'm not telling you. She screamed bloody murder at me that I had violated her thoughts like that". Disappointment lapped at me from within him. But there was something else entirely, too. Affection. Concern.

There was a long pause. Azriel started pacing the room. "You could make her some food", Rhys offered, "That should clear it up. Apart from the rather obvious method". Az' wings rustled behind him. He was uncomfortable. Blurry images of our entwined bodies came into his mind. They came and went fast, he quickly shoved each one away behind thick barriers. What did that mean?

"I'm not going to force her like that. She should decide for herself. And the "obvious method" as you called it, is not really an option to me right now". An image of me, naked in his bed blazed through his mental shields. By the Mother, what were they talking about? He breathed in deeply and vanished this product of his imagination. I grew restless. Why was he thinking about me like this, when only a few hours ago he had made very clear that he didn't even want to think about the kiss? Did he lie to me?

Azriel started pacing. His mind was racing. Shards of conversations with me came flying from his thoughts into my own. Dozens of made-up scenarios of him iniciating conversations that ended with me rejecting him. Which was weird, because why would I-

Rhy interrupted my - our thoughts: "Can you feel her? As her mate you should be able to have some insight into her mind".

All thoughts left my mind. Mate mate mate mate mate mate mate echoed through me. Azriel was my mate. My whole worldview shifted as I thought about our last conversation. Why didn't he just tell me? Somewhere far away from here I felt the blood rushing through my veins, my heart hammering against my ribcage. Mate.

"Not really, so far. Every now and then I can feel something, but hearing her thoughts or even seeing them... that only happened once". I longed to see what he had seen, but he had regained his composure. There was nothing slipping past his wards. A million questions raced through my head. Why couldn't I feel the bond? And since when did he know about this?

"Can I have a look? Maybe I can feel around and find out what the problem is", Rhys offered.

I felt him before I could withdraw from Azriel's mind. I didn't even know how to withdraw. Where was the path back to myself? Where did Azriel end and I begin? How had I even ended up here? I didn't know.

Soft claws stroked my consciousness - no, Azriel's. It felt nearly the same. Rhys dived into Azriel's brain, pulling me down into his thoughts with him, and sifted through memories, feelings, everything Az would let him see. Big parts of his brain were walled in, impenetrable.

Something here is different. He carefully dove through Az' brain and before I knew it, his invisible claws were stroking at my own walls. Interesting. Until he found what he was looking for. A tiny, softly glowing, thread, bound tightly to my thoughts, winding straight into the heart of Azriel's sectioned-off memories.

Go back, and for Cauldron's sake, talk to him, Rhys purred at me.

Azriel POV

I would never get used to the feeling of my brother combing through my brain, even after over 600 years. He was gentle and respected the heavy wards I had built over time, protecting my most vulnerable memories. The size of the walled-in part had grown considerably over the past years. But he was kind enough not to comment on that. Rhys moved along the outskirts of my brain until I could barely feel him anymore. But he was still there, somewhere. Somewhere... foreign. At the edges of my consciousness, a claw hit heavy walls. Walls that weren't my own. And then: a claw lightly stroking a thread that was welded to the essence of my being. A mating bond. Thin and fickle, not yet accepted. But it was there. And that meant that on the other side, behind thick walls... was her.

"Did you feel that?", Rhys asked after he withdrew from my mind. My shadows swirled around me, as if they had sensed something as well. They seemed elated, tugging at my hands and wings to get me moving.

"Yes", I breathed out, "thank you ". The smallest spark of hope ignited within me. I quickly shut it down. If it hadn't snapped for her yet, who was to say it ever would?

"The bond is most definitely not one-sided", Rhys explained, "I could feel her on the other side, but it has not fully snapped. Maybe because you've known each other for so long. What happened after you kissed at starfall? Maybe it takes a little more... closure.", he winked, sporting a wicked grin.

A low growl escaped my lips. He had no business thinking about my mate like this. She was my mate. Mine. The half-finished bond inside me flared up at his words, roaring with anger over his insinuation. If he ever so much as thought of her like this again, I would-

"Easy, man. Remind me to grant you a long vacation after you mate fully. You’re in desperate need of a good fuck". I breathed in deeply, trying not to tackle him to the ground.

It took all of my willpower to stay calm. "Can I stay here tonight?". There was no way I could sleep next door to her tonight.

"Always".

I left him there, went to the room I sometimes shared with Cassian and dropped onto my bed. As I stared at the dark ceiling, my thoughts circled back to another night.

I was drunk off her. She was beautiful everyday, I could barely take my eyes off her when she wore pajamas at breakfast. But today was a wholly different calibre. The dress she was wearing perfectly accentuated her eyes, and the glitter in her hair made her sparkle like she was a star herself.

"I will find you, no matter where. I promise". The words left my lips before I could think them through. She was too close to me. I had one glass of wine too much. Or maybe I was just sick of pretending.

"And I will find you", she replied. Her lips were slightly opened, the look in her eyes so vulnerable. A mirror of my own feelings. My shadows tugged at my suit's lapels, their whispers in my ears were delighted. This was it, the moment I had been waiting on forever.

Without my doing, my wings unfolded around her, shielding us off from the world around us. A breath later we were outside on a vacant balcony.

My ringed fingers shook slightly as I brought them up to her cheeks, cradling her face. Starlight reflected in her beautiful eyes and I wished I could drown in them. Her hands drew me in closer, her eyes closed. "Az - I...", she whispered.

Before I knew it, my lips touched hers. They were velvet on mine. Her hands threaded into the hair at the nape of my neck and she arched upwards. The only thought on my mind was her name, repeating like a prayer, while my lips moved softly on hers. Slowly, savoring every second, I parted her lips with my tongue. The moment our tongues touched, it was like a spark had been ignited inside me. A white hot feeling rushed through my veins and reflexively I moaned into her and pulled her closer. It was like a supernova inside me. Like something that had been missing from me my entire life was crafted with enormous force. And then I felt her. Her desire and wanting crashed down on me, amplified my own. My mate.

My knees threatened to buckle and the shadows swirled around her in ecstasy, threading through her hair, touching her arms and face.

And then the kiss ended and reality came crushing down on me with a force that knocked the wind out of my lungs.

She looked happy. Nothing more. There was no sign that she felt what I felt. No recognition that the Cauldron hat just welded our souls together, fused our entire beings into one. All my hopes shattered. My insides turned to ice and for a split second I wished I were dead.

Internally, I tried to reach out to her and tug at the string binding us together. But it was too thin, too unstable. There was no way for me to get ahold of it. Everytime I reached for it, it slipped from my grasp. I drew her into a hug to keep from breaking apart. But it was of no use. My hands started shaking against her back and my breath caught in my throat. I needed to go.

I pressed a kiss onto her forehead, before I withdrew from her embrace. Mumbling an excuse I barely registered, I forced myself to turn around and leave. With every step I took, I could feel my soul shattering into more and more pieces. In my room, I ripped my suit jacket off and threw it in a corner, didn't even bother to unbutton my shirt and instead tore it in two and threw it right after the jacket. I could still taste and feel her on my lips. In hopes of ridding myself of it, I tried to wipe her off of them. My hands came back red with lipstick.

The bond, still fresh, pulsed inside me and I felt her everywhere. Hell, I saw her in her mirror, through her own eyes, pulling off her dress and getting ready for bed, only a door away. I felt how tired she was, how happy she was. How fucking unaware she was that she was now the center of my world.

My shadows escaped from me, slithered underneath the door. They were agitated, longing for her as much as I was. Now, I felt how they pooled against her door, begging to be let in. I had just enough power over them to stop them from rushing into her room.

There was only one thing that would help now. I dug through my dresser. Mindlessly, I threw everything in my way into a pile on the floor. Until I found what I was looking for. A sinfully expensive bottle of very strong alcohol Cass had gifted me for solstice. Without thinking, I uncorked the flask with my teeth and drank until I gasped for air. And then I drank again. Anything to dull the ache inside me. The ache for her. Until I wouldn’t care anymore.

What a fucking mess. She was one of the few truly good things in my life and now that had been stolen from me too. Sometimes I felt like my life was one big single joke. No matter what, I never got what I wanted. I longed and pleaded and burned, but not once had life been playing fair with me. Maybe that was my curse. To give and give and never get anything in return.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear the voice of my father, long gone. Did you really think you deserved her? You are nothing, boy. And I knew he was right. How blind I was to believe that I was good enough for her. How fucking naïve.

There was nothing I could do. The bond ached inside me, mocking me for my delusions. I laid down and hoped the world would go away.

series taglist: @tele86 @francesababyd0ll @rcarbo1 @willowpains @i-am--infinite @paintedbyshadows @mellowmusings @ashduv

[psformybss]

idk if this is exactly what you wanted but i saw you wanted drew fluff ideas so here! (sorry if its bad lols)

you should write a story about drew and his love interest's actor on obx and how they instantly click when they first meet and decide to move in together while filming is going on, and they become like really really close best friends and fans and the rest of the cast are always shipping them but they tell everyone they are "just friends" even when they fall asleep cuddling sometimes, and reader wears drews clothes all the time (and stuff like that) and then they slowly start to realize they have fallen for eachother. drew takes her on one of their late night drives and confesses his feelings for her and she tells him that she feels the same

again idk if this is bad but its just an idea :) feel free to ignore!

More Than Just Friends

drew starkey x co!star!reader

a/n: i'm back y'all. i loved this idea so much cause i love slow burn/friends to lovers trope. idk if this is my best work tho not writing for a week really made me rusty lol

The conference room door lets out a soft creak as you push it open, just loud enough to cut through the hum of conversation. The noise inside doesn’t vanish—just dips, like a ripple across the surface of still water. Not silence. Not drama. Just that fleeting, collective pause when a new presence is clocked and measured.

Still, you smile. Like your heart isn’t pressing against your ribs, like your palms aren’t a little too warm. You step inside with practiced ease, letting the door fall shut behind you.

The air is thick with the scent of burnt coffee and freshly printed paper. The room is bigger than you expected, sunlit and echoey, the kind of bright that makes your eyes adjust. Floor-to-ceiling windows cast long streaks of light across the polished table that stretches through the center of the space, already cluttered with highlighters, half-empty water bottles, branded OBX pens, and a chaos of cords and chargers that look like territorial markers.

You spot your name card at the far end and start the awkward dance of slipping between chairs and elbows, offering polite nods as you go.

“Look who finally made it,” Madison calls out, her voice lilting with amusement. She’s sprawled in her seat like a queen surveying her court, sunglasses pushed into her hair, iced coffee in hand, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. Smug, radiant.

“I’m right on time,” you reply, lifting a brow. “Bet you ten bucks I’m still earlier than JD.”

“Wrong,” JD announces from behind her, voice theatrical. “Already here. Already disappointed.”

You glance over to find him lounging with full commitment—legs spread, chair tipped slightly back, Gatorade in hand, script unopened like it personally offended him.

“Alright, alright,” Chase mumbles from the far end, flipping pages without looking up. “Let her breathe before you scare her off.”

“You think I scare people?” JD feigns innocence, widening his eyes.

“You terrify me,” Madison deadpans, drawing out a round of quiet laughter.

You finally reach your seat—and pause.

He’s already there.

Drew.

He’s settled into the chair beside yours, legs stretched out, ankle resting on one knee. His script is open across his lap, pen between his teeth as he skims the page with a relaxed kind of focus. When he senses you, his eyes lift.

He grins. Not a stranger’s grin. Not polite or obligatory. It’s the kind that tugs at something inside you. Familiar. Knowing.

“There she is,” he says, voice warm, edged with teasing. “Guess I’m stuck with you now.”

You slide into your seat, dropping your bag at your feet. “Was that a compliment or a complaint?”

He leans an inch closer, the kind of lean that makes the space between you hum. “Depends how today goes.”

You shouldn’t feel this at ease. You’ve only met him once—during your chemistry read two weeks ago—but it stuck. The way your lines had synced without trying. The way he’d texted after like you were already mid-conversation. Not flirty. Just...attentive. Like he was curious about you in a quiet, persistent way.

You open your script and try not to notice how close his elbow is to yours.

“Nice of you to show up,” Madelyn says from across the table, nudging a bag of pretzels in your direction. “We were about to start placing bets.”

“I already placed mine,” Rudy adds. “Said she’d be late but would style it out like a pro.”

You shoot him a look. “And?”

He shrugs. “You were cool about it.”

The door swings open again. Austin strolls in, hair messy like he just rolled out of bed, coffee clutched in one hand, hoodie halfway on. “Did we start?”

“Do we ever start on time?” Chase doesn’t even look up.

“Touché,” Austin mutters, dropping into the seat beside Rudy.

The door opens once more and this time it’s the director, followed closely by the showrunner and a handful of writers. The shift is immediate. Spines straighten. Phones are pocketed. Scripts snap open.

“Alright, everyone,” the director calls out, clapping his hands once. “Episode One. Let’s dive in.”

Voices layer together as the read begins. A stumble here, a laugh there. JD plays his part with extra dramatics, earning snorts. Madison’s delivery is razor-sharp without breaking a sweat. Chase barely glances at the script, like it’s already been carved into his brain.

You ease into your role with steady confidence. No fireworks. Just setting the rhythm.

Until they call it—your first scene with Drew.

Your name. His. Episode Two, Scene Four.

You glance at him. He’s already looking at you.

No smirk this time. Just a subtle nod, the kind that says, we’ve got this.

The air shifts.

The dialogue between your characters is electric—sharp, flirt-heavy, a verbal chess match where no one really wants to win. You toss your lines like punches, and he parries every one with practiced ease.

“You always talk this much?” you say, tone dry, eyebrow lifted.

Drew doesn’t miss a beat. “Only when I like the company.”

The table goes still for half a breath, then laughter bubbles under the surface, but it doesn’t break the moment. You’re in it. Fully. The rhythm comes easy, like the words aren’t from the page but from your own lips. He plays with the cadence of one line, and it hits different—enough that your smile almost slips in.

He watches you, even when it isn’t his turn to speak. Not intensely. Not in a way that feels staged. Just...like he’s listening. Really listening.

When the scene ends, the silence stretches longer than usual.

Someone exhales. Probably Chase.

“Well, damn,” Rudy mutters. “Guess we don’t have to worry about chemistry.”

“I thought you two were already sleeping together,” JD blurts out.

Madison swats his arm. “Shut up. But, yeah. That was good.”

The director grins. “Alright, let’s take five. Hydrate. Shake it out.”

You stand slowly, your hands still buzzing. Madison appears at your side before you’ve even stepped away.

She leans in. “You two read like you’re already in love.”

You keep your voice casual. “He’s just good at what he does.”

She smirks. “Uh-huh.”

Across the room, Drew catches your eye again. He’s still in his seat, still holding that pen, spinning it between his fingers. He smiles, slower this time.

You look away last.

It’s just a scene. Just a read.

But something lingers.

The scent of smoke and salt rides the breeze, mingling with the faint sweetness of sunscreen and something vaguely citrus—maybe someone’s drink. The sand crunches beneath your sneakers as you step onto the beach, drawn toward the flicker of the bonfire glowing in the distance like a beacon.

Someone had floated the idea earlier—JD, most likely. Maybe Rudy. A night off, no call sheets, no early reports, and the first of shooting finally over. Just fire and sky and a chance to be young and loud under the stars.

You spot the group before they spot you. The fire throws warm light across their faces—Chase waving smoke away from his hair, Madison curled up on a blanket with marshmallows in her lap, JD strumming a ukulele like it wronged him personally.

And then there’s Drew.

He’s sitting with his back to the fire, beer bottle loose in his grip, legs stretched out in the sand. He’s laughing at something Madelyn’s saying, head tilted, flannel shirt half-buttoned, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled from the wind.

It hits you—how easy this all feels. Like it’s always been this way.

Madelyn sees you and waves, her smile wide. “Hey! You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you call, making your way across the sand.

You settle near the edge of the group, close enough for the warmth, far enough to avoid the smoke’s path.

Drew turns, and the moment he sees you, something shifts behind his expression. Softer. Brighter.

“There she is,” he says. “You almost missed JD’s ukulele rendition of ‘Wonderwall.’”

You raise a brow. “Tragic.”

Madelyn snorts. “Don’t worry, he’s got a whole encore planned.”

“I do not,” JD protests, plucking a dramatically sour note.

The night blurs into motion—laughter, marshmallows catching fire, drinks passed hand to hand, the hum of acoustic music weaving in and out of conversation.

When a chill skims over your skin, you shiver before you can stop it.

Drew notices.

Without a word, he shrugs off his flannel and hands it to you. You hesitate, but he just lifts a brow like don’t argue. So you pull it on.

It’s warm. Smells like bonfire and soap and something faintly musky that might be his cologne. You let yourself sink into it.

“You do this for all your co-stars?” you ask.

“Only the ones pretending they’re fine.”

He settles beside you, elbows resting on his knees, shoulder brushing yours.

The fire cracks. The ocean rolls quietly behind the noise. And the two of you—without meaning to—find a bubble of silence between it all.

He tilts his head toward you. “What’d you want to be when you were little?”

You blink. “Random.”

“Go.”

“Broadway set designer,” you say. “You?”

“Astronaut.”

You laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“Wanted the helmet.”

The questions keep coming. Silly ones. Real ones. You talk about movies and fears and favorite snacks. He listens like every answer matters. And when he talks, it’s unguarded, honest.

At some point, he leans back, eyes on the sky. “You feel like someone I’ve known longer than a week.”

You glance at him. “Yeah. You too.”

Madelyn walks past with a smug grin. “Just friends, huh?”

“Of course,” Drew says smoothly.

You just smile. Because no one says otherwise. But the flannel stays on your shoulders. And his shoulder stays right there beside yours.

The night settles around you, soft and endless. And whatever this is—it feels like the start of something. Quiet. Unspoken.

But real.

A few days later, the afternoon clings to your skin, thick with humidity. The air on set is heavy, as if the ocean breeze gave up trying to reach you. Sunlight glints off metal light rigs and bleaches the world into a palette of soft golds and heatwaves. You're perched on the edge of a weathered crate, script limp in your lap, words blurring in the warmth. Your focus is fractured — eyes skimming dialogue while your thoughts drift elsewhere.

Your phone buzzes in your hand. Instinctive. Quick. You check it.

It’s the plumber.

You press it to your ear, already bracing.

His voice is apologetic, laced with static and something far more frustrating — uncertainty. The plumbing in the Airbnb is worse than expected. The repairs will take longer than they thought. No promises, no estimates. Just a vague “could take a while.”

Your stomach clenches. You nod even though he can’t see it and murmur your thanks before hanging up. You drop the phone into your lap like it’s burned you.

That’s when Drew walks by. He’s headed toward the craft services table, a bottle of water dangling from one hand, his other swiping at the back of his neck like he’s trying to shake off the heat. His gaze lands on you — instinctive, precise — and he changes course without hesitation.

He drops down beside you, thigh brushing yours, and just like that, the air feels easier to breathe.

“You alright?” he asks, voice low enough that it doesn’t ripple past the two of you.

You hesitate, eyes still fixed on the gravel at your feet. “The plumbing at my place. It’s a mess. No idea when it’ll be fixed.”

He watches you for a moment, brows pulling together. “You’re still staying at the Airbnb?”

“Yeah.” You exhale. “It’s… not ideal.”

There’s a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to make you glance over. Drew runs a hand through his hair, already ruffled from the heat, then turns to you with a kind of simple certainty that catches you off guard.

“You don’t have to do that by yourself.”

You blink. “What?”

“I’ve got space. A whole extra room I’m not using.” He shrugs, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world. “Move in. Just until it’s fixed. I mean, if you want.”

He says it casually, but there's something solid underneath it — like the offer comes from somewhere deeper than convenience.

You search his face, and for once, don’t find anything but sincerity.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah.” He grins, that crooked one that always makes your chest feel a little lighter. “You’d be closer to set. And, selfishly, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

For a second, the weight you’ve been carrying lifts. Just a bit.

You nod slowly. “Okay. Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, nudging your knee gently with his. “You’ll fit right in.”

Drew pushes open the door and gestures you in with a dramatic flourish. “Welcome home.”

Inside, the apartment is an organized mess — the kind that’s lived in, not neglected. Sand-dusted sneakers line the entryway. A pile of half-folded laundry claims one end of the couch. On the coffee table, a jigsaw puzzle sprawls between empty mugs and dog-eared scripts. The air smells like sea salt and cinnamon candles, like home that doesn’t try too hard.

You drop your bag by the door and let it all wash over you.

That night, you end up on the couch with Drew, a half-watched movie flickering across the screen. The throw blanket slides from your shoulders and before you even reach for it, he tucks it gently around you. His arm brushes yours, and neither of you moves away.

Your feet find his beneath the blanket. He doesn’t flinch.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he says, soft enough to be missed if you weren’t already listening for him.

You tug his hoodie tighter, the scent of his laundry detergent warm against your skin. “Me too.”

The days begin to blur, soft edges folding into something warm and familiar.

Mornings start with shared coffee and overlapping playlists. Grocery runs turn into minor battles — you reach for spinach, he tosses in Oreos. You call him dramatic for choosing the worst cereal, he accuses you of being a health nut. The checkout clerk smiles like she’s seen this a hundred times.

Nights belong to movies and stolen fries and blankets that never quite stay in place. You curl closer without thinking. He never pulls away.

His hoodie becomes yours — unofficially at first. It spends more time on your frame than in his closet, the sleeves always too long, the neckline soft from wear. You tell yourself it’s because the AC is too cold, but even you don’t believe that.

The apartment pulses with cast energy — Rudy’s storytelling echoing down the hallway, Madelyn’s laughter spilling from the kitchen, JD’s endless commentary on whatever game is on. It’s chaotic, imperfect, and somehow… right.

In between the noise and routine, there’s this quiet thread that winds between you and Drew — unspoken but steady.

Weeks have blurred together, and by now, the trailer feels like a second skin. When you step inside, both hands wrapped around a to-go cup like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, everything is just as it’s been for days. The early morning sunlight slips through the narrow windows, catching the same gold flecks in the mirrors, casting that familiar hazy glow across the space. The air carries the usual mix of hairspray and coffee — a scent that’s settled into the walls — and the soft playlist humming in the background might as well be on an endless loop, queued up long before the sun even thought about rising.

You collapse into your usual chair with a yawn and nod at the makeup artist, who greets you with a knowing smile.

“Rough morning?”

“Does it show?” you mumble, taking another sip.

She laughs. “Natural today?”

You nod, already zoning out as the brush glides across your cheek.

Madison lounges on the bench behind you, still half-asleep, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands as she scrolls through her phone. She glances up.

“Did you seriously walk out in his hoodie again?”

You glance down — the familiar grey fabric is draped across you, soft and oversized. You hadn’t even thought about it. It had been slung over the stool from last night, right where Drew left it after your terrible Netflix shark movie marathon.

You sip your coffee again, hoping the heat hides the way your cheeks flush.

Madison smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Before you can reply, the trailer door swings open and lets in a blast of voices. JD and Chase barrel in mid-debate, the kind only they could be this passionate about at seven a.m.

“Ketchup on eggs should be illegal,” JD announces dramatically.

Chase barely glances up. “You’re wrong and uncultured.”

You lift your coffee cup. “Morning to you too.”

JD points at you like he’s just remembered something vital. “You and Drew playing house again?”

You roll your eyes, digging for your foundation sponge. “We watched a movie. That’s it.”

Madelyn drifts over, sipping tea. “A movie that required your feet to be in his lap?”

Chase spits out his drink. “Wait, what?”

“Rudy told me.”

You snort. “Rudy wasn’t there.”

Madelyn just shrugs. “Rudy knows things.”

The trailer door opens again, and in steps Drew — hoodie half-zipped, curls a mess, smoothie in hand. He pauses just inside as the air shifts, the teasing still fresh on everyone’s faces.

His eyes find yours instantly. There’s a subtle softening in his expression — like the chaos doesn’t matter, not when you’re here.

“You left without me this morning,” he says, moving to the chair beside you.

“You were passed out with a cereal box on your chest,” you reply, grinning. “Didn’t want to disturb art.”

Laughter bubbles around the trailer.

“You two are disgusting,” Chase groans.

“Right?” Madison adds. “They have a fruit bowl. A fruit bowl.”

You laugh. “It’s barely a bowl. It’s chipped and was five bucks at the antique shop.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you argued about cereal for twenty minutes,” JD points out.

Drew sips his smoothie, unbothered. “And I was right.”

You smirk. “It’s just sugar and regret.”

“You love it,” he murmurs, and you feel it — that shift. That pulse in the air that always tightens your chest a little too much.

Chase pokes your arm. “You’re wearing his shirt again.”

Drew answers before you can. “Her shirt now.”

Madelyn gasps. “I’m begging you — just kiss already.”

“If you two fall asleep on the couch again, I’m charging rent,” JD adds.

You laugh — but it comes out soft. Tentative.

You glance at Drew.

He’s already looking at you. And beneath the usual teasing spark in his eyes, there’s something quieter. Something that stays with you even when you look away.

“We’re just friends,” he says.

But the words feel like a stone tossed into still water — quiet, but rippling outward.

“They’re just messing around,” you say to him under your breath later, as everyone scatters for rehearsal.

“I know.” He hesitates. “But I don’t care what they say.”

You glance up.

“I like this,” he says. “I like us. You make this feel easier.”

Your throat tightens. You nod, barely whispering: “Me too.”

And then you’re swept into the current again — called to set, scripts in hand, pretending to be someone else. But somewhere between lines and takes, you find his eyes across the room.

And it still feels like home.

Time moves differently now — days folding into each other, marked only by small, quiet rituals. Hours ago, the trailer buzzed with the hum of early morning. Now, the apartment is thick with the scent of cinnamon and browned butter, warm and heady, curling through the air like a promise.

Sunlight, deeper now, spills through the kitchen window in rich, honeyed beams, cutting through the steam rising off the griddle and painting the countertops gold. The rush of earlier hours has faded. This moment feels suspended — still, glowing, unrushed — as if the day itself is taking a long breath.

You stand barefoot on cool tile, hair twisted up in a loose knot that’s barely holding on, sleeves pushed to your elbows. There’s a smudge of flour on your cheekbone that you don’t know about, and batter stains the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing—his t-shirt. The fabric brushes against your thighs when you move, clinging slightly from the kitchen’s warmth.

From Drew’s phone on the counter, a lazy Sunday playlist hums along—soulful, smooth, a little ridiculous. “Return of the Mack” starts up, and like clockwork, he’s sliding across the floor in socks, shoulders rolling dramatically as he dances his way back into the kitchen.

You don’t turn. Just flip a pancake with practiced ease. “Don’t quit your day job.”

Behind you, he gasps. “Rude. This is elite choreography. You’re witnessing greatness.”

You bite back a grin. “It’s a health hazard.”

“No,” he says, coming up behind you, “it’s joy.”

He’s close now. Close enough that you can feel the ghost of his body heat brushing your back. He bumps your hip with his as he reaches around to grab a banana slice off the cutting board, snickering when you elbow him lightly in protest.

“Back off. This is a sacred space.”

“I’m assisting,” he says, as if holding a title. “Sous-chef.”

“You assisting means I’ll be cleaning banana off the ceiling in twenty minutes.”

“I bring the vibes,” he says proudly, grabbing a plate from the cabinet.

“You bring chaos.”

He smirks, unbothered. The music’s louder now, and the morning has a pulse to it—warm and bright and just a little bit unsteady.

You flip another pancake, lean down to grab a clean plate from the lower cabinet—and forget, for one stupid second, how close your hand is to the edge of the hot pan.

The hiss comes first.

Then the sting.

“Shit—ow. Shit.”

Before the pain even fully registers, Drew’s beside you. His easygoing rhythm halts completely, brows drawn tight as he catches your wrist. “What happened?”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to wave it off, but he doesn’t listen. He gently, but firmly, guides your hand under the faucet and turns the water on cold.

The stream rushes over your finger, and you hiss again, this time more from surprise than pain. His hand covers yours, thumb resting lightly on your wrist to keep it steady.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice lower now, the music behind you fading into a background hum. The air’s changed. Still, but charged.

You nod, blinking. “Yeah. I’ve done worse. Just a dumb mistake.”

“It’s not dumb.”

The way he says it makes you pause. And before you can respond, he lifts your hand—slowly, gently—and presses a kiss to the tip of your burned finger.

It’s feather-light. Barely there.

But it might as well be a lightning strike.

Your breath stalls. Eyes catch. And for a beat too long, you’re both completely still.

His hand stays on yours.

Neither of you speak.

The moment hovers, thick and quiet, like the breath before a confession.

And you can’t take it.

You laugh—too loud, too fast—and turn away, pretending the bloom of heat under your skin isn’t from him.

“I’m retiring from the kitchen,” you joke, shaking off the silence. “Clearly, I can’t be trusted near appliances.”

Drew smiles, but it lingers slower this time, a little softer. “Guess that makes me head chef. Hope you like cereal.”

You smile back, letting the moment dissolve like sugar in tea.

But when he passes you the syrup, your fingers graze—and neither of you pulls away right away.

The weeks blend together after that. Routines settle in quietly, like they were always meant to be there. Shared mugs in the cabinet. His hoodies folded into your laundry. Your shampoo in the shower next to his, your snacks hidden behind the cereal boxes he swears are sacred.

You stop counting the days. And so does he.

The cast still teases you both—but now it’s gentle, like they’ve decided this thing, whatever it is, doesn’t need labeling. Like maybe it’s obvious.

Tonight, the apartment smells like sandalwood and yesterday’s pizza. Filming ran late. Your limbs ache from sun and repetition and adrenaline. You’d both crashed on the couch, limbs draped over each other without thought.

His arm is wrapped low around your waist, steady, grounding.

Your head rests on his chest, listening to the even rhythm of his breathing, soft against the static of the TV. His sweatshirt smells like detergent and skin. His legs are tangled with yours beneath the blanket.

The movie’s long over. The credits have faded. Outside, the sky is bleeding pale pink through the curtains.

You should move. You know you should.

But the shape of you against him feels too easy. Too much like home.

You open your eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. His jaw is the first thing you see—clean lines, soft in sleep. Lashes fanned against his cheek. One hand still rests at your hip, fingers curved gently like they belong there.

You trace him with your eyes, careful not to move. Every breath deepens the ache in your chest, that quiet, persistent pull you’ve stopped pretending not to feel.

Then—he shifts.

Just a little. Barely conscious. His hand tightens at your waist. A slow exhale warms your forehead.

His voice, when it comes, is scratchy and half-asleep.

“This is nice.”

You freeze. Then nod, your cheek brushing his chest. “Yeah,” you whisper. “It is.”

Neither of you moves.

Not for a long time.

The sun climbs higher. And when you finally drift off again, curled tighter into his side, there are no dreams.

You don’t need them.

You’re already there.

The day is hot, the kind of southern heat that clings to your skin like humidity and sunburn. The set is between takes, the crew scattered like lazy shadows across grass and folding chairs. Someone’s blasting a speaker. Chase and Rudy toss a football like they haven’t been sweating for hours in full costume.

You’re half-asleep on a picnic blanket, legs outstretched, head tucked against Drew’s shoulder. You don’t remember when it happened—just that he was next to you, and then you were there, leaning into him like your body remembered what your mind hadn’t admitted yet.

His arm is around you. Protective. Unmoving.

He’s asleep too.

You’re both still when JD walks by with his camera. He never stops taking pictures. You’re used to it now. You barely register the click.

It isn’t until hours later—after the scene is wrapped, your wardrobe changed, and your phone vibrates five times in a row—that you notice.

The post.

JD’s photo.

“The cutest nap I’ve ever seen.”

You and Drew, tangled in sleep. Your head tucked into his shoulder, his hand on your arm. Golden hour casting everything soft and slow and tender.

The internet explodes.

“THEY’RE DATING I KNEW IT.”

“Roommates?? Yeah right.”

“This is the slow burn I’ve been waiting for.”

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Your phone buzzes again. And again.

And then—Drew’s voice. Low. Calm.

“You good?”

He crouches in front of you, brows drawn as you hold your phone out in silence.

He reads. Scrolls. Grins.

“They think we’re dating now,” you murmur, pulse racing.

He tilts his head. “They’ll think what they want.”

You wait for him to say more.

He doesn’t.

You could clarify. Say we’re just friends.

But you don’t.

Because what you felt when you saw that photo—what you’re still feeling now—isn’t panic. It’s a quiet thrum of recognition. Like the world saw something true before you had the words for it.

Drew watches you with an unreadable expression, somewhere between fondness and something more.

And this time, when someone teases you about it, you laugh.

But you don’t deny it.

Not anymore.

The party’s already alive by the time you arrive, tucked into the backyard of a rented beach house where the salty breeze tangles through citronella smoke and laughter. The night air hums with energy — music pulses from a half-open sliding door, drifting through the glow of string lights draped between palm trees like glowing constellations lazily flung across the sky. The faint crash of waves in the distance is a constant hush beneath it all.

Someone’s cranked up a speaker — almost definitely Rudy — loud enough to rattle the fence and earn a few glares from neighboring porches. The whole place feels like a breathless kind of summer, suspended in that golden blur between sunset and too late.

You step into the rhythm of it easily.

A half-dozen voices call your name, familiar faces grinning over red cups and half-empty seltzer cans. Madison finds you first, practically bouncing in her sandals as she throws an arm around your shoulders and presses a cold can into your hand.

“There she is,” she says, squeezing you with dramatic flair. “I was about two minutes away from sending a search party.”

You grin, the knot in your chest loosening slightly. “You know I wouldn’t miss this.”

She pulls you toward the fire pit, where JD and Austin are halfway through a heated argument about whether karaoke should be mandatory at every wrap party. You laugh at something Chase mutters under his breath, dodge Rudy dancing with a drink in each hand like a walking hazard, and let the scene fold around you — warm, bright, familiar.

It should feel easy.

It does, until it doesn’t.

You’re halfway through your second drink when you see him — Drew — across the yard, leaned casually against the edge of the deck. He’s framed by the spill of porch light and shadows, tall and unmistakable even in the half-dark. A drink dangles from his fingers, condensation sliding down the glass. He’s smiling.

Talking to a girl.

She’s tall, tan, hair spilling down her back like sun-bleached silk. Pretty in that effortless, sunkissed way. Her laugh rings high and sweet, and she tilts into him like he’s gravity. Her fingers brush his arm — light, teasing.

He doesn’t step back.

Your heart stutters, then twists. A slow, sinking feeling starts in your stomach, unfamiliar but sharp.

You look away too late.

Madison, beside you, catches your shift in focus and lifts a brow. “You good?” she asks, not unkindly — but there’s an edge to her voice, enough to snap you out of it.

“Yeah,” you lie, mouth pulling into a smile that feels flimsy. “Just zoning out.”

She follows your gaze, hums under her breath. “Ah. That kind of zoning.”

You glance at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she says too fast. “Just… interesting view.”

You roll your eyes and pretend to laugh, turning back toward the fire. But the flicker of heat on your skin doesn’t quite reach your chest. Not where it’s tight. Not where the image of Drew leaning toward someone else keeps replaying like a scene you didn’t want to see.

You know you shouldn’t care.

You really do.

But you can’t stop the way your fingers curl a little tighter around your can, like gripping something will keep you steady.

Later, inside the house, you sink into the edge of the couch, shoulders curled in, the room moving around you in a soft blur of music and muffled conversation. Your drink’s long gone, forgotten somewhere near the fire pit, and your hands are wrapped around a throw blanket like it might hold you together.

You’re trying — really trying — not to replay the moment in your head. But it plays anyway, over and over. Her laugh. His smile.

The couch shifts beside you.

You don’t have to look to know it’s him.

Drew drops down with a low sigh, the kind that says he’s done pretending the party is still fun. You feel the warmth of him instantly, the heat that rolls off his skin, the way his knee nearly brushes yours.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

You keep your eyes forward. “Hey.”

He hands you a bottle of water, the condensation cold against your palm. You take it, sip without speaking.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod, too fast. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but you feel it — the way he’s watching you, his arm draped across the back of the couch, not touching but close. Too close for you to keep pretending nothing’s wrong.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says after a beat. “That’s not like you.”

You force a shrug. “Just tired.”

His brow lifts. “Tired, huh.”

You glance sideways, catching the faintest curve of a smirk — soft, not teasing. But when you don’t answer, it fades into something more serious.

“Is this about earlier?”

You freeze.

“What?”

“The girl,” he says. “From outside.”

You hesitate, trying to sound casual. “Why would it be?”

He lets out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. “Because you haven’t looked at me since.”

Your cheeks heat. “It’s not a big deal.”

“She was someone the sound guy brought. Visiting from Wilmington. Thought I was one of the producers or something. I don’t even think she knew my name.”

You glance at him, jaw tense. “You didn’t exactly push her away.”

He meets your eyes now, and there’s something steady there. “Did I need to?”

The question lands between you, quiet and loaded.

You set the bottle down slowly. “I didn’t like it,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Not a confession, but close.

Drew doesn’t move for a long moment. Then, just as softly, he says, “I know.”

You turn toward him. “Then why pretend there’s nothing here?”

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling like he’s been holding this in for days. “Because I don’t know what this is yet.”

Your heart kicks up. “Neither do I.”

“But it’s something, right?” he says.

You nod. “Yeah. It is.”

His knee brushes yours, this time on purpose.

“Then maybe we stop pretending it’s not,” he murmurs.

You meet his gaze, everything else fading — the music, the voices, the party.

But you don’t kiss.

Not yet.

You just whisper, “Okay.”

His fingers graze yours, light and deliberate, a silent promise made in the hush between words.

And somehow, that feels like enough. For now.

The set was hushed, golden light pouring through the windows like honey as the late afternoon slid toward evening. Equipment clinked in the background, the soft shuffle of crew adjusting camera angles, murmured direction just out of earshot.

You stood across from Drew in the center of the room, script limp in your hand — mostly forgotten. The scene was simple. A kiss. One line, one beat, one cue.

But the air was thick with everything unspoken.

Drew was already looking at you — not like a co-star, not like a scene partner. Like he was watching for something he wasn’t sure you’d give. There was a flicker of nerves in his eyes, buried under the calm, and it mirrored the way your stomach twisted.

“Ready?” the director called.

You nodded, barely trusting your voice.

He stepped in.

The distance between you vanished, dissolved into the warmth of his palms as they settled gently on your waist. Your breath caught. He smelled like clean cotton and something faintly citrus, familiar and grounding. His fingers flexed once.

“Action.”

The kiss started soft — almost tentative, like he was afraid to startle you. Then it deepened, slow and intentional. His hand moved, thumb brushing your side. The rest of the world — the cameras, the lights, the people — dropped away.

There was only this.

When the director called cut, it felt like waking up from something too sweet to last.

You pulled back, breath shaky, heart pounding in your chest like a drum.

“That was perfect,” someone said, but it barely registered.

Drew was still looking at you. “You okay?” His voice was rough, lower than usual.

You nodded. “Yeah. You?”

He hesitated, then smiled. “Yeah.”

But it didn’t feel like acting.

Your fingers brushed when you reached for your things. He didn’t move away.

Something had changed.

And it wasn’t just the scene.

The hilltop clearing was quiet beneath a canopy of stars, the kind that only came out full after the rain — sharp and endless. The air was cool, clean, and carried the scent of wet earth and pine. Drew’s truck rumbled to a stop at the top of the path, headlights casting long shadows across the open field.

Neither of you spoke as you climbed out. The world around you felt too sacred, like even whispering might break it.

He laid the blanket down in a practiced motion, and you sank onto it beside him, shoulders brushing. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was full — stretched wide like the sky, heavy with possibility.

Finally, he turned toward you.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, eyes shining even in the dark.

You nodded.

He exhaled, like this had been sitting on his chest for a long, long time.

“I’m in love with you.”

The words didn’t echo. They settled.

“I didn’t plan it,” he continued. “It just… happened. Somewhere between late-night drives and the way you always know what I need. And maybe I tried not to let it show, but I can’t keep pretending this is just friendship anymore.”

You didn’t say anything right away — because you felt it. All of it.

Then you leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t fireworks. It was a slow exhale. A door opening. His hand found your jaw. Yours slid into his hair. It was soft, real, built from a thousand little moments that had always been leading here.

“I’m in love with you too,” you whispered, forehead resting against his.

And just like that — with stars above and hearts finally bare — everything felt different.

Not uncertain.

Just right.

taglist: @kieeslove, @wuluhwuhmaster