#They have their own rooms to have their space

[prael]

An Oral Agreement

QWER Magenta x male reader

Masterlist word count: 3,008 Kofi(donations/commissions)

She's equal parts infuriating and fascinating.

Magenta.

No last name. Or maybe that is her last name. Either way, that's all it said on the rental agreement and her bedroom door when you first moved in: Magenta. The letters were all lowercase like she was too cool for proper grammar. You know Magenta, in the Biblical sense (and it didn’t take long).

She's always in her room streaming or recording or...doing whatever it is social media influencers do when they aren't online. But she likes candles, fried rice and catcore aesthetics. She thinks pumpkin spice season starts September 1st and she loves reality TV. Not exactly the makings of a deep and spiritual connection.

Now, living with Magenta, well, it has its ups and downs.

There are some things that never get done around here without you doing them; she rarely cooks, which wouldn't bother you so much if she at least did dishes once in a while. It doesn't help that she takes long hot showers. In a house with only one bathroom, this can really put a cramp in your morning routine.

Magenta doesn't clean the place very often either. At first, you just let it go because everybody has their own ways of doing things, right? But after a few weeks of living together, you realised that she's just...not going to do it. Like ever. So then there's nothing for it but to either live in a constant state of messiness or bite the bullet yourself.

Sometimes you feel like you're not living with a roommate so much as providing lodging for some kind of freeloading spirit that passes through periodically.

When you first moved in, you were worried about what your roommate might think of you: would they be weirded out by your habits? Would they judge your taste in decorations? Would you get along? Would you have enough space for both of you?

Those fears melted away pretty quickly once you met her. You could tell from the moment she opened the door that day (and didn't even look up from her phone) that she didn’t care.

You soon learned that Magenta is messy but friendly. She stays up all night and sleeps during the day. She's everywhere online: Instagrammer, Tiktokker (is that what they call it?), live streamer or these days she’s even on the radio and TV. She doing something for one of those things right now, with her bedroom door closed and music playing faintly behind it.

You're standing in the kitchen, staring down her latest infringement. Now, these empty take-out boxes were here this morning when you left. They were also here last night, and yesterday afternoon, and...you get where this is going.

"Hey, you awake in there?!" you shout towards her bedroom but get no response.

With a sigh, you walk over to her door and knock. Twice. Then again, louder when you still get no response. Finally, you resort to pounding on it repeatedly until it suddenly swings open to reveal your roommate shouting, "What!?" You step back, slightly taken aback by how loudly she said that single word. Her eyes soften instantly, though when they land on you.

She looks good. Not even just in a 'good for someone who hasn't slept yet today' kind of way. Just straight-up hot. Magenta wears a faded pink crop top emblazoned with an anime character and little cut-off cotton shorts covered in cookie prints. The low waistband of the shorts hangs off her hips, exposing the start of a light purple thong that cuts diagonally across her hip bones.

"I think our apartment might get condemned if you don't clean sometime soon."

Your roommate leans against the door frame. She pushes some dark brown hair behind her ear as she says, "Can't you do it for me? Just this once?"

"Just this once?" you repeat, crossing your arms. Your lips curl into a smile as you ask back to her, "Can't you do it just this once?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm always reminding you to clean, and you never do it. So guess who does it? It's not the magical cleaning fairy—it's me."

Her eyes roll skyward so forcefully you imagine you can hear them squeaking in their sockets.

"Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?" she says. "This seems really petty."

"It's not petty," you protest. "I have stuff to do and I shouldn't have to keep picking up after my adult roommate." You say the word 'adult' laden with implications. She gets your meaning immediately. Her lips twist.

"oh, I get it," she says with a smirk. "I guess it's been a while since I gave you a little thank you. Well, I need to get this video finished, so could you maybe clean it up and come back here after?"

So there's the perks. Two of them actually, as she pulls up her pink crop top and flashes you what's beneath. A pair of purple lace bra cups strain to contain your roommate's ample endowment. Pale skin pours out from beneath them, flesh squeezing together into a deep cleavage that entices you closer even as you shake your head.

"You can't keep pulling tricks like this, Magenta," you say, trying desperately to hold onto your train of thought while also enjoying the view. It helps that you know those breasts intimately. Hell, you've worshipped those breasts. They've spilt around your hands, smothered your face and laid upon your thighs. You know what the soft warmth inside each cup feels like. And, God, they feel really fucking good.

"I really appreciate your help and everything," she says, her bottom lip suddenly pushing out into a cute pout that goes well beyond suggestive. "And I'd like to show you just how much I appreciate it..."

Your resolve lasts right up until Magenta runs a finger down one of her tits to tease along the edge of the lacy purple material. That's when you give up. There's no point in fighting anymore—she has won this battle (just like all others).

"Just go finish your work already," you finally say, letting out a sigh.

Magenta smiles and giggles, lowering her shirt. "Thanks. Love ya!"

With a wink, she slips back into her room. You stand alone for several seconds before shaking your head. Back to cleaning, then.

-

It's not exactly easy to focus on sorting the recycling into the correct bins when your roommate has just reminded you how nice her tits are. They're on your mind a lot, to be honest. More than they should be probably. Sometimes they're on your cock, though not as often as they should be. Probably.

You're counting your blessings that none of the neighbours are doing late-night recycling because then you'd have to explain why your face is red and your pants are bulging.

That doesn't stop the occasional glance towards your neighbour's house, where Mrs Kim likes to smoke on her front porch some nights. You think she smokes more than she should, but that's really none of your business. Her watching you from across the street, however, is very much your business, so you peek over your shoulder once in a while to check if she's spying. Again. Or still. Whatever.

One last box. The light outside is fading rapidly, but you can just barely make out that it comes from...the Greek place you love?

Oh. Oh no. Did she eat gyros and not bring you any? Damn, that girl knows how to be cruel!

When the recycling is finally squared away you dust off your hands. It's a symbolic gesture since all you've done is shove cardboard and glass into the right bins, but it makes you feel accomplished nonetheless.

Back in the apartment and lock the door behind you.

"There you are. Where have you been?"

"The bins, have you ever seen them before?" You mock while still fiddling with the lock chain.

"That was quick," comes her response. Your eyes follow the sound of her voice. Magenta is lying upside-down on the couch. She swings her feet lazily in the air while looking at something on her phone. Her dark hair cascades nearly to the floor. Those short shorts mean you can see most of her long legs. Then there's the curve of her hip, the crease of her thigh... "Get over here."

It's a rare occasion that Magenta voluntarily puts her phone down, yet she does just that as you walk over. The closer you get, the more enticing her position becomes: laying across the couch, head tipped backwards off the cushions to watch you approach her.

"So," she says. Her fingertips brush over the exposed skin of her belly. The fingers trace lines up and across her abdomen, moving between the edge of her shorts and her top. The motion catches your eye—and she knows it. "I owe you, don't I?" Her eyelids flutter innocently. Or rather, far less than innocently.

"For today? Yeah. Definitely." You clear your throat and try again, "For quite a few days, actually."

"Quite a few," she echoes in agreement. Her hand continues to crawl upward until it reaches the peak of her breasts rising beneath her faded pink crop top. The movement presses the supple skin together in a way that has you standing right in front of her before you even realize you've walked over.

She pushes them hard together before letting them settle back to normal. Gravity spreads them apart, flesh pouring across her chest from the tightly gathered fabric keeping them barely contained. She reaches out over her head, to you, and grabs you by the belt buckle. Pulls you forward until you are stood over her. Even though she's upside down, she makes such effortless work of unbuckling the leather strap that you barely notice. One second it's on; the next it's flapping loose.

It takes only two sharp tugs to force your pants and boxers down past your knees. Magenta doesn't waste any time reaching out to touch your cock, gently running her hands over it until she can wrap her entire hand around the warm shaft and pull you until you fall to your knees. Her head hangs right in front your your length, and you see the teasing sparkle in her eye even upside down.

Her hot breath hits the skin of your bare cock. Lips press a series of soft, wet kisses down from your tip towards your balls. Then back up again, trailing even more tiny pecks that leave your skin tingling. You let your cock nudge against her cheek, feeling it slide along the smooth skin.

With both hands wrapped around your cock, Magenta holds your tip right in front of her mouth. Her tongue sticks out from between her lips, slowly, methodically lapping circles around the crown of your cock.

"Oh, God," you mutter, and you need to hold onto something, anything. First, it's the couch, then it's her tits.

Your hand lands heavily atop the nearest swell of flesh and squeezes tight, pushing it further out of her crop top. She hums approvingly at the groping and wraps her lips around your cockhead. Suckles sweetly. Slurps noisily until spit pools at the corner of her stretched lips.

She lets gravity help guide your cock into her waiting mouth. The further you slip inside, the more she relaxes her jaw to accept you. But then she reaches up and pulls on your hips. You glide up against her grateful tongue. Until her nose meets your stomach. She gags. It's so fucking lewd.

The whole thing makes you squeeze her chest harder. So big in your palm and yet somehow always bigger than you remember. You forget sometimes just how incredible these tits are. When they bounce in a video she's recorded, you remember—but never quite how heavy they are when you hold them; the way they give to your grasp in exactly the right amount; or the way her nipple puckers just slightly as it stiffens beneath your kneading grip.

"You're so sexy like this," you say.

The compliment elicits an appreciative groan from Magenta. Her head moves with your hips now, bobbing to meet each thrust, spit dripping down her cheeks. The messiness of the sloppy blowjob matches her other personality traits frighteningly well.

With her head pinned and her arms on you, you're free to pull up her shirt and expose her. The dirty minx has taken off her bra, so the expanse of her milky skin greets you. You cup them in each palm, feeling the heft of them, squeezing them greedily. They push back, moulding into the shape of your desire, and she moans, a low guttural note vibrating right through your length.

Her body writhes beneath your attention. Her thighs spread outwards, feet rolling at the ankle in time with each gently guided thrust into her throat. Fingers squeeze you, scratching lightly at the skin above your ass to encourage you deeper inside her hungry maw. Deeper into her throat until she chokes—

You let up, panting, admiring the sight of her stretched out for your viewing pleasure. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at you from her upside-down position. The intensity in them draws you in again.

"Oh shit," you groan as you drive into her, plunging your cock balls deep until her purple-painted nails dig into the small of your back. You pump faster, lost in the warm embrace of her greedy sucking.

Magenta squirms beneath you, whining and groaning and bucking, begging you for more. Her cunt must be throbbing with anticipation. Poor thing wants your cum. You can tell.

You want her tits.

She gasps when you fully withdraw from her mouth. Her face is a fucking mess of saliva and smudged makeup. Before she can question you, you reposition yourself in front of her, straddling her beautiful face as you lower your rigid length between her breasts.

She's quick to pick up what you're putting down. With both hands pressing the creamy flesh of her boobs inward, she creates a tunnel for you to slide your dick into.

It feels as good as it looks. Soft pressure envelops your slick length, wrapping around the sensitive skin and creating a delightful sleeve for you to hump into. You can't get enough.

As soon as you hit a good pace, fucking your roommate's chest hard and fast, she starts giggling.

"What?" you ask.

"It tickles." Her laugh is breathy but not as loud as it usually is. "Keep going."

So you do. Thrust after thrust you plunge deeper, drawing more and more of yourself into the valley between her perfect tits. The more you use her, the further she parts her legs that run up the back of the sofa. Soft thighs splayed for nothing but display. Then, just as you start to admire them, she clenches them together. Your eyes trace down the pale skin until they arrive at her crotch where the bottoms of her cookie-patterned shorts have ridden up against her wet slit. She's gyrating her hips in all sorts of directions and rubbing herself against the material in some attempt to satiate her growing needs.

The soft flesh of her midriff jiggles between the thrusting into her tits and the twisting of her hips below. You can't stop staring. Fuck. How does this girl have every single curve?

At first, you try holding back—you want this to last longer. But after a few seconds, you realize you can't fight this feeling. Not when you've got such a good view. And certainly not with her nipples so hard under the press of your thumbs. She arches up when you pinch them, and you know you're done for.

And then, as if she can feel it by the way you're thrusting, she begins to coo and beg under you. She knows she's getting you close, and she wants it. Bad.

"Cum on me," she coaxes sweetly, the words barely audible over the slapping sounds. "I've been so bad, baby. You deserve to paint my body."

That's all it takes. That final little plea. Your eyes roll back, your hips snap forward and your cock explodes. Thick ropes over her body, the first reaching her thighs before you adjust your aim and finish across the plane of her belly. Soft curves take your load while she encourages you through soft, little pleasured mewls. You may have got some on her shorts, but you paint her stomach white before pulling up and jerking the final drops onto her chest.

"Mmmm, messy boy," Magenta laughs breathlessly as your cum drips down her curves. She lays there beneath you, her smile wide and wickedly innocent, one hand slowly running circles over the sticky mess on her tummy, smearing it across her skin.

After a few seconds of panting and trying to gather yourself, you climb off of her and sit back against the couch. She turns so her head rests in your lap, facing your spent and dripping length. Magenta teases you still by using her own fingertip to collect your seed and place it across her lips, then licking them clean while making sure you're watching. And fuck are you ever.

"So, about my room," she purrs, eyes twinkling mischievously up at you.

"What about it?"

"Well... It needs cleaning, and I was thinking—"

"No," you feign protest, knowing you've already agreed. "Just clean it yourself." Her negotiation will come next. You can see it on her lips. "I'm not doing it."

Magenta leans up and whispers, "But you might change your mind if you find out what's waiting for you beneath my shorts."

That damn purple thong, still visible at her waistband, calls you toward her like a beacon. "What's beneath your shorts?"

Her laugh is playful. A little shrug as her fingers toy at the hem of the garment in question. "Agree to clean my room and you’ll find out."

[ohmygoly]

Just the other day I was on the highway and another car a little in front of us crossed RIGHT in front of a truck and me and my dad were genuinely terrified we were about to see that car be smushed because that poor truck driver was most likely fighting for their life trying to slow down and finally slowed literally right behind the car. That car was probably a second away from death or serious injury because they were not paying attention and don't realize that the gap in front of trucks is so big because they know how much room they need to stop. It is not an invitation to switch lanes right there, because then you mess up their stopping distance.

Further note, my dad always said that if you can't at least see the full front of the truck in your rearview mirror, then you should not switch back into the lane in front of them. Do not try and drive next to them if possible, especially where turns are involved. Just, honestly give them space. The roads aren't a race. Chill out. Remember that it is not the truck driver that is in danger, but you and every passenger in your car, and if you are not dead I am pretty sure the truck driver will not be the one held liable for the damage you caused (I can be corrected on that). Not that it is nice for truck drivers to have to know they "killed" someone, but for your own sake, practice safety around trucks on the roads!

A PSA about trucks from a truck driver

I and some colleagues were talking about how we wish everyone could see the safety videos that our company was showing us, because I don’t think most people understand how traffic works in a truck. So here’s some things we wish everyone on the road knew.

- we’re not kidding about tailgating. If you’re right behind us on a straight highway? Chances are we have NO IDEA you’re there, which means we can’t anticipate any of your movements. Plus slowing down takes multiple downshifts, so we might start decreasing speed way earlier than you expect.

- We’re not kidding about any of our blind spots. WE CAN’T SEE YOU, GUYS.

- That bit about slowing down taking a while? The same goes for when you’re in front of us. Don’t cut off a truck. Oh god, PLEASE don’t cut off a truck. If you cut me off, I’m not irritated, I’m terrified. For YOU. It can take 7 to 9 seconds for us to stop. DON’T CUT OFF TRUCKS.

- Before you get mad about how slow we’re going on the highway, keep in mind that many companies govern their vehicles so they literally CAN’T go over 60 or 65. This is a good thing, I promise. Because…

- Do you know what happens when a car meets a truck in an accident? The car gets totaled and the truck needs a new coat of paint. You will not win this fight. I know nobody likes getting stuck behind a big dumb truck, but it’s not worth your life.

We are trying our best to protect you from our 80,000 pound death machines. Please help us out.

[dindjarindiaries]

Clueless

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “Are you flirting with me?” “Have been for years, but thanks for noticing.”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You tapped around the usual controls you could reach from the chair behind Din's as the cockpit of the Razor Crest groaned to life around you. "How's the hyperdrive looking?"

Din kept moving his gloved hands along the main console as he answered. "It's online." He gave his helmet a quick tilt as he pushed one more button above his head. "For now."

Din exhaled a heavy breath and wrapped his hands around the joysticks, giving them a squeeze before he maneuvered the gunship off the ground. The breath you let out was one of relief; the two of you had certainly been trapped on worse planets before, but you were glad to see the sight of it fading below you.

"Glad you're confident in your work." You failed to hide your growing smile as you relaxed and let Din take care of the rest.

"This isn't a confidence problem." Din spared a look at you over his shoulder before he lifted his hands to grasp the hyperspace levers. "The Crest just manages to surprise me from time to time."

With that, Din pulled back, and the stars stretched out before you. They then burst into the familiar plethora of blue and white swirling lights, beginning yet another long journey through hyperspace.

Hopefully one that you wouldn't get forcefully pulled out of. Again.

But you were still stuck on what Din had said: This isn't a confidence problem. That drew a pleased hum from you, one that you didn't bother to keep hidden from him. It wasn't like he'd get it, anyway. Not if he hadn't the other countless times you'd done it.

"I like that."

Din, now leaning back in his chair, swiveled in his seat to face you. His helmet was tilted in genuine confusion. "Like what?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you instead gestured to him with your chin. "The confidence."

Din shrugged. "Comes from experience."

You smirked and kept your arms crossed over your chest. "I'd like to see what kind of experience."

Din didn't move, but his tone spelled out all the confusion you likely would have seen on his face if it wasn't covered by his helmet. "Was getting pulled out of hyperspace hours ago not enough experience for you?"

That time, you really did let yourself roll your eyes as you laughed and stood to your feet. Honestly, the tally of your advances versus Din's own cluelessness was getting difficult to keep track of. "Fair point."

You stepped over to Din and set a hand on his armored shoulder.

"It's been a long day. I'd say it's time for some beauty sleep, but you've already got the first part covered." You gave his pauldron a squeeze and turned around. "And no, rest isn't an option this time."

You could only get a few steps away, however, when you suddenly heard Din stand up behind you. "Wait."

You froze in place and looked at him over your shoulder, lifting your brow as you awaited him to retaliate with some kind of meaningless yet humorous joke.

Instead, you saw him nervously shifting his weight between his feet. Even his gloved hands were pulling tight into fists before he asked a question you never thought you'd hear.

"Are you flirting with me?"

As surprised as you were to hear the words, you didn't miss a beat with your response. "Have been for years, but thanks for noticing." You flashed him a wink and started walking forward again, letting your sudden adrenaline carry you. "See you in a few hours."

You had only just started to cross the cockpit's threshold when Din found his voice again. "What?"

You laughed to yourself but didn't stop your stride as you stepped over the ladder towards the storage space you had claimed as your own private bunk. The door slid open for you, but before it could close, something—or someone—stood in the way.

"Hold on."

Din sounded out of breath, and when you turned around, you saw him leaning against the metal material of the storage room's threshold. His body was still rigid, the same way it looked when he was preparing to leap into battle.

"You can't just... after you..." Din gestured absently behind himself, to the open cockpit.

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest again as you fully faced him. "I know this incredibly obvious revelation is somehow news to you, but it's not to me, and I'd really like to get some sleep."

Din just shook his helmet in pure disbelief. His modulated voice was lower than usual when he spoke again. "All this time?"

You huffed and looked down at your boots. "What did you think I was doing?"

Din's tone with thick with embarrassment. "Being nice."

You laughed again. You couldn't help it. "Of course you did." You reached forward and tapped your knuckles against his helmet. "Your skull must be as thick as your beskar."

You stood back where you were before and watched Din carefully. His visor was focused on the floor, and his gloved fingertips were fluttering thoughtfully on the hand he had propped up by his head.

You closed your eyes and sighed. His cluelessness was even worse than you thought it was.

"Listen, Din, you clearly need some rest. Just... go to sleep and we can talk about this later. Okay?"

Din's helmet snapped back up to you at that. "No. I'm sorry, let me just..."

He leaned off the threshold but continued to stand in it, keeping the door open for himself. His gloved hand palmed his helmet as his chest rose and fell with a frustrated breath.

"Kriff."

You chuckled and shook your head at him. "Din, it's really not that big of a deal."

Din stared at you before his armored shoulders deflated. "It isn't?"

You let out a softer breath as your chest squeezed. "I didn't mean..." Now you were the one palming your face. "Not like that. I just meant that I'm not offended or anything."

Din tilted his helmet. "Offended by what?"

You shrugged, too overcome by your newfound embarrassment to look at him as your stare returned to your boots. "You not reciprocating."

Din let out a sigh so heavy that you had no choice but to look up at him again. He had changed his position so that his hands were set on his hips as he shook his helmet.

"That's the thing." His visor found your gaze before he nodded. "I've been trying to."

Now, it was really your turn to be shocked. You blinked at him a few times as your heart somersaulted in your chest. All this time, you thought your flirting was just a vain effort to get the attention of a man who would never be open to you or what you had to offer. You were starting to wonder if you had somehow managed to miss something.

You found your voice, but it was only a squeak. "What?"

Din gestured with a gloved hand behind you. "I'm not good with words, so I tried to do things. Like helping you set up this room. And cleaning your weapons." The next part was a mumble you nearly missed. "And making you that blanket."

You whipped around, spotting the blanket—your favorite, by the way—that had just shown up one day on your makeshift bunk. You huffed in disbelief and turned back around to face him. "That was you?"

"Who else?"

It was Din's turn to laugh, though it was only a raspy chuckle for him. He even turned your own question back on you.

"What did you think I was doing?"

And your answer was nothing different. "Being nice."

Din let out the biggest sigh you'd ever heard from him, and you couldn't even blame him.

Oh, the irony of it all. Maybe you were actually the clueless one.

"So..." You clasped your hands behind your back and rocked on your heels. " What now?"

Din shrugged. "Hell if I know." He gestured with his helmet behind him. "I think I just proved I'm not the most qualified in this area."

You spared another glance at the blanket. "Clearly, I'm not much better."

Din looked off to the side the way he always did when he was planning something. After a few heartbeats, he nodded to himself and looked at you again. "I might have an idea."

You lifted your brow. "Yeah?"

Din nodded again. "We should switch."

"Switch what?"

Din shifted his weight and used his finger to gesture between the two of you. "Techniques?" The suggestion came out as a question. "I'll try words, and you try actions."

You hummed in consideration before ultimately nodding. "Okay, yeah. I like that idea." You smirked at him. "You first."

Din, for once in his life, stammered. "What? I—Well, I can't just..."

"You can." You took a step closer to him. "You have something to say to me. I know you do."

It was then that something overcame Din, and you could see it in the way his posture relaxed into something much more familiar and comfortable. His visor gave you a steady once-over as he took a smaller step closer to you.

"I have a lot of things I want to say to you."

You let yourself embrace the flustered feeling even as you let out an impressed whistle. "That was good, Djarin! You're learning." You gave his armored shoulder a pat.

Din gave his helmet a soft tilt. "Your turn."

You grinned, letting your hand fall from his shoulder to instead grasp his arm. You other hand rose to meet it, and gently, you pulled him further into the room, causing the door to slide shut behind him. Din looked back at it in surprise, but when he looked at you again, he didn't seem displeased.

"I'm offering you my bunk." You gestured back towards it. "Because I want you here, but also because I don't want you sleeping on that sorry excuse for a bed down in the hold anymore."

Din chuckled at that, the sound thick with both amusement and admiration as he nodded. "Fair enough."

You helped him get settled into the bunk with you, draping the blanket he had apparently made over both of you as the final touch. Your face was the closest it had ever been to his visor as you laid beside him. Surprisingly, he was the one to break the brief silence.

"This is a good start."

You smiled, humming once more before getting close enough to rest your face against his cowl. "I agree."

The gloved hand you felt on your back was enough evidence of the fact that he was just as comfortable, now, and not as clueless as you had thought him to be.

[yapileon]

@TacklersCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 3

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader pt. 1 — pt. 2 2670w, it's kinda angsty, be warned<3 r gets nicknamed: "Diablilla" aka little devil in spanish as an endearment term "Skrulla" aka goofball/silly in norwegian for a mischievous child

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

You lean your head back against the metal locker, a smug smirk tugging at your lips. Your eyes meet Pina's and you can't help but choke back a snort. 

You had called the forward in the morning, asking her to come pick you up since you wouldn't be able to walk to training like you had done for the past years. 

"You owe it to me after that whole mess you started about my phone wallpaper yesterday," you huffed. While you weren't actually mad at Pina, you were sure as hell going to milk every favor you could out of her. 

"Sure," she agreed without even needing a reason. This team was a family. If you needed a ride and she could help you out, she would do it, no questions asked. 

“Do you have space in the trunk for…” you trailed off, unsure if you could trust her now. If she said no, then your plan would fail.

“Sí, Diablilla, now tell me the plan,” you could hear her chuckle through the phone like she had read your thoughts. And just like that, you became partners in crime.

The both of you arrived at the training centre giggling like children, clutching at each other's arms from how much you were laughing. You had underestimated how mischievous Pina could be for a good joke. Coming up with an ever better plan than the original, you both go straight to work. 

The locker room is slowly filling, everyone realizing what you had done, most people figuring out Pina was in on it too with the glances you kept exchanging. Hushed whispers were heard around the room, everyone waiting for Mapi to come in. Pina had a phone propped up to capture it all.

You were doom scrolling your fan account, posting some more memes when the door opened again. You knew she had to arrive soon, almost everyone else was here already. 

Silence. 

You looked up to see Mapi walking in, smiling and in a good mood like usual, with Ingrid trailing behind. You bite your jersey to hide a smile you can’t camouflage. 

Mapi stood frozen, looking at her locker. Something was occupying her chair. The cardboard cutout of her doing her lion pose you owned. Fake Mapi was flexing and showing her teeth like an animal ready to fight. She burst out laughing, wheezing and letting herself fall on a chair. 

It was the cue for the whole team to explode. Pina’s voice shot up, barely hearable over the laughing. “Say hi for Instagram, Mapi!” she was moving around so much you were sure the video wouldn’t even be good.

Alexia had been standing on the side of the room, an eyebrow raised, “Of course it’s you two.” she spoke, shaking her head disapprovingly. But even serious Alexia couldn’t hold back a smile. 

“I gotta admit kid, I didn’t think you’d actually bring it,” the centre back wheezed, wiping tears away from her eyes. 

The joyful energy was only made more electric by Ingrid, who leaned into the joke. Ingrid looked alternatively between Mapi sitting on the chair and the cardboard. She posed, mimicking being deep in thoughts. 

"Mmh, which one is my girlfriend?" she had said, grinning. 

“Pina! Get this on the video!” you shouted, gesturing to whatever was about to happen, the woman happily nodded. 

She slid down next to the cardboard, throwing her arm around the fake Mapi "This one!" she exclaimed, sending everyone toppling over.

Mapi gave her a shocked look, still laughing. "Oh I see how it goes, everyone prefers that pale copy now" she feigned annoyance. Ingrid kissed the cheek of the cardboard while Mapi pouted, voice shaky as she added, “what does she have that I don’t?”

“This one doesn’t argue when I’m right.” Ingrid answered, the Norwegian might have become your favourite person in the world right now. The look on the Spaniard’s face was priceless, you could have rolled on the floor.

"El León stole the spotlight!" it was Jana who had chimed in. She was next to Pina and Patri, all three of them waving for you to get closer. You jumped to their side, hovering over Jana’s shoulder to look at the phone. 

They had posted the video seconds ago on the main Barcelona account and it was already shaking up the internet. As the team calmed down and finished getting ready, thousands of comments popped up, requesting more videos. So the four of you obliged. 

You posed Mapi and the cutout next to each other taking a picture and doing a poll in the story, which read “Which is the better Mapi?” You knew social media, you knew how to bring in numbers. 

Jana and Patri took the fake Mapi to the field while Pina and you ran to get some footballs. Both of you laughed when the cardboard had deflected a shot, still careful to keep it intact as you wanted to bring it back home safely. You all screamed “AND SHE DOES IT AGAIN, SAVING THE DAY!” zooming on it and then on Mapi, who watched with the biggest smile on her face. Mapi grabbed the phone to take selfies with the cutout. Everything was posted on the account, this would be the first thing fans ever got to see from you, and you weren’t disappointed. This was a masterpiece of an introduction to the world. 

In this moment, the bond that you had with this team felt invincible. Feeling more alive than you ever had previously. For some minutes, before Pina had arrived to pick you up, you had doubted. Maybe they wouldn’t find it funny, maybe it would make them realize how childish you really were. But even the older, more mature players had laughed at your banter. Pina had treated you like a little sister, Mapi and Ingrid played along. There was a warmth in their teasing that made you feel at home. 

So much so that you didn’t even try to argue with Alexia when she clapped, asking for everyone’s attention. “Everybody calm down, training now, chaos later.” she said firmly. 

When she saw you grinning, she approached, “Yes even you, Diablilla” she joked, ruffling your hair. “Show us what you can do, besides being a trickster.”

So you hopped off, starting to stretch, warming up your muscles. This left you some time to reflect on the whole situation. You inhaled deeply. The first training session that you had had with the team had gone well, but you were aware it was a chill one, to ease you in the team. Pere had warned you today would be “intense”, as he had said exactly. You felt ready for what they were about to throw at you. You could feel yourself getting more focused, though you were still up for a good joke if the opportunity was there. The team was currently doing sprints to activate their body before doing drills and scrimmages. 

Caro groaned after the last set, “Why do we even do this?” She was clutching her sides, trying to find her breath again.

‘So we can outrun the refs when they try to card us.” you mumbled, sprints weren’t your favorite exercise either. 

Except it seemed you did not say this as low as you intended. You looked up to see most of the team staring at you. Most veterans seemed shocked, the younger players not so much. In the corner of your eyes you could see Jana and Salma holding in a chuckle. 

“What?” you remarked, in disbelief, blush creeping onto your cheeks. Alright, it’s true that it wasn’t very smart of you to admit you were prone to getting cards so much you had to learn how to run away from the refs. 

“Dios mío!” Alexia exclaimed, putting her hand on her forehead, “Irene! You’re going to teach Cariño how to behave, sí?” she added with a sigh. 

“Not fair! Why is Caro even complaining,” you were interrupted by Irene trying to drag you away, but you persisted, “like she didn’t run at 32 km/h during the 2023 world cup?” you grumbled. 

Caro raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a proud expression. “You’re a fan now? I thought you only liked defenders.” she replied, voice full of playfulness. 

“I keep myself updated on statistics.” you attempted to say, trailing off knowing the team would, once again, never let you live that down. 

Salma came up next to you, “So you know statistics on everyone here?” she smirked, barking out a laugh when your eyes widened in horror. 

“Sorry! Can’t hear you I’m too far away getting ready for the drills,” you walked off with Irene, miming not being able to hear. 

“This isn’t over Diablilla!” screamed Vicky, “we’ll get all your fangirl secrets out of you later.” 

Oh, Vicky, if only you knew. 

As you made your way next to the other defenders, you let out a breath. Determination taking over your cheeky eyes, you touched the tip of both of your boots with your fingers. The last of your rituals, this meant the game was on. 

You threw yourself in all the tasks the coach had you do. While your inexperience showed on certain drills, your will to do well still pleased the team. In some ways, having spent so many years studying everything about that team helped you on the pitch. You could guess where Alexia would try to do a backward pass, or where Aitana’s ball control might be more problematic to intercept. You tried your best to mirror Mapi, bending your knee lows, trying to push attackers on the side you wanted. An interception you made earned you a wide grin from Mapi while Ingrid had her thumbs up toward the sky to congratulate you. A shy smile creeped on your lips.

You were putting up a solid fight, having done a few successful tackles during a particularly difficult scrimmage. Maybe it’s how you ended up messing up so bad. The confidence rushed through you when you decided to slide tackle Caro. She was doing a solo run, and you were feeling mixed, split between not wanting to lose if she scored an equalizer and wanting praises from your teammates. It was childish, really. Almost shameful. You weren’t here to be praised, you were here to work. But she was running, and you were shoulder to shoulder with her. It felt like the right timing, so you slid. The adrenaline rush was so strong that you didn’t use your brain enough. You knew she was a master at feints, but still for a second you thought you had it. 

You sensed the wet grass brushing against your skin, until the grass was replaced with a training cone you collided with. You froze, your whole body burning, watching in horror as Caro continued her run, chipping the ball over Cata, making her team come up to 2-2. And that was your fault, if you had accessed the situation for longer, you wouldn’t have dived head first into an unnecessary tackle.

Ingrid jogged over to you, “You alright, Skrulla?” reaching her hands to help you stand up. If your ears weren’t ringing so bad from the shame and confusion, you would have asked the Norwegian what it meant. 

You shrugged, wiping the grass from your shorts in embarrassment. 

You knew you didn’t do a good job hiding it when the green eyed woman added, “At least it wasn’t my back this time?” She was smiling brightly at you, so you forced out a laugh, the emotions stuck in your throat. 

You shook your head, going back into position. Any positive feeling from your earlier exploit long gone. You tried to brush it off, but you were so frustrated with yourself and still had half the session to go through. So you pushed yourself more, hoping to erase the bad memory. 

It didn’t work though. By the time training finished, you were exhausted. Letting yourself flop on the ground, you clutched at your chest in pain. Little by little your abilities on the pitch had faded away, each pass connecting less and less, your timing getting worse. Everyone could see it, and some of your teammates gave you questioning looks. You couldn’t deal with the attention on you, so you jumped up and made a beeline for the lockers. 

You showered quicker than you thought possible, but by the time you were done, multiples of your teammates were around you. The buzzing of the room annoyed you more than it ever had previously. 

You look up to see Ingrid and Mapi whispering, throwing glances at you. So, like the child you are, you grabbed your cardboard cutout and fled. Waving off a very confused Pina who thought she’d drive you back home. 

As you walk, you can’t help but feel increasingly stupid. You know you shouldn't be nearly as bothered with that tackle as you currently were. It was so stupid. But it was so badly timed and you were ashamed about it. Sure your teammates were nice to you, and you all laughed together, but with that awful move you had just pulled? There was no way they'd ever trust you on the field. How could they trust you if you couldn't even slide tackle an opponent? Why would Pere give you any minutes if you messed up so bad when there was no pressure on you. 

By the time you reached your dorm, you could feel tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them with your sleeve, throwing yourself on your bed.  

That was the down side of your brain. The obsession over football, that one singular process who made you apart from other players but was also your downfall. The way you’d obsess over every single one of your flaws, needing to perfect them all. Needing to have as much information on players. You’d drive yourself crazy and sleep deprived watching footage until the birds would sing outside, signaling you it was early morning. It wasn’t healthy. But it was all you knew.

You had grown up with coaches who had screamed at you that the difference between an amateur and a pro was when they stopped their drills. An amateur does it right once and stops, a pro keeps going until they can’t get it wrong. So you just kept pushing. In some way, you hoped your brain would ease off having finally made the first team. It hadn’t.

You rolled over, looking at the fake Mapi, still deep in thoughts. Your eye caught sight of a black mark on it, making you jump in a hurry. Had you damaged it while walking back home? Or when Pina and you were using it for shooting practice? Frowning, you leaned closer trying to figure out what had happened. 

You gasped when you saw it.

You have the potential to be one of the greatest.

— Mapi 

You let the tip of your fingers brush over the writing. Your idol hadn’t only signed the cardboard without you even asking, she had written this. You felt a tug at your heartstring, and promised yourself to thank her profusely tomorrow. 

For now, the only thing you could do was calm down. You inhaled deeply, feeling the rise of your ribcage, and exhaled softly, trying to release any tensions in your body. Maybe it was fine, maybe nobody would be mad at you, maybe you’d be able to fix it during the next training. 

You needed a distraction, so you pulled out your phone to check the latest post from your fan account.

TacklerCulers

tacklerculers: Did you know? Attackers that trip in front of Mapi León are actually just nervous to be close to her.

barcafan11: @TacklersCulers Are you going to talk about the new signing we saw on the official barça page today?

alex1aa: I’m really disappointed, Barça does not need a clown.

b0nmat12: I hope she’s just a social media person and not a player, otherwise we’re doomed for the Champions League.

Your stomach twisted when you saw the comments. You threw the phone at the wall and buried yourself into the blanket on your bed. The weight of failure still crushing your chest.

[monzamash]

★ bargain bin — lando norris

coming clean part II lando norris x you —no warnings, just angst (the spice will be back next time, i promise) read part I here requested by anon; "sex while there is the background noise of a rainstorm outside"

“you can only come in if you promise we’re not going to fight.”

lando nodded, eyes soft. he looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days. you didn't know that he had only flown home from a triple header yesterday, you swore once the break up happened that you wouldn't worry about him anymore. but of course you did, secretly checking the race results, betrayed by your curiosity.

“the last thing i want is to fight with you,” he replied, barely above a whisper as you took a step to the side and allowed him into your apartment. 

he was dripping wet from the storm outside, immediately ditching the bomber jacket hanging from his shoulders and kicking off the boots covered in your freshly cut lawn. he was apologetic about bringing the rain into your quaint apartment — he felt safer here than in his own place in monaco. he hated it there now, without you, swearing up and down that nothing but resentment and pain lived in those hallowed walls. 

seeing him in the flesh felt different to what you expected. your heart clenched as he leaned against your couch, hands stuffed into his hoodie and dishevelled curls sweeping across his furrowed forehead. being in the same room for the first time in months changed everything, all the fears you’d built up in your mind melted away and the deep regret of letting go of someone so kind and generous churned in your stomach. 

“you look tired, lan.” 

the nickname caught his attention, eyes locking in on your expression to see how genuine you were — hoping to god you were giving him the same look you gave when you were together. 

“i don’t even know how i managed to drive over here to be honest — just can’t sleep anymore,” lando grumbled, feet shuffling on your carpet. 

“then we should go to bed…” 

his eyes widened in surprise at your suggestion, “wha- are you… are you sure?” 

you nodded and reached out for his hand, “come on.” 

lando followed closely behind, heart thumping in his chest as you closed the bedroom door and walked to your closet, “i still have some of your clothes here,” you whispered, handing him a baggy shirt and a pair of shorts.

“thank you…” he managed to squeak out, tears slightly forming in his eyes, “you always look after me better than anyone else.” 

“i know you’d do the same for me if i was struggling,” you stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as you exited the bathroom in your pyjamas. 

lando sighed and held his tongue. all he wanted to do was tell you how beautiful you looked and how much he appreciated your caring nature. instead, he crawled into bed beside you and rested his weary head on the pillow. the sound of the thundering storm outside your window would have been enough to lull him to sleep, especially with the warmth of your body so close to his. but he didn’t want to sleep, not with so many thoughts swirling around his busy mind.

“how have you been?” he asked, causing you to look over at him with a chuckle.

“i thought you were tired…”

lando shrugged and attempted to disguise his small smile, “i was but like i said in my text — i miss you a lot. miss talking to you and hearing your voice…”

“sounds like you’re down bad.”

“so bad.” he quipped back, shuffling closer to you like a magnet. 

you shook your head and turned onto your side to face him completely, “i miss you too.” 

“yeah?” he almost sounded shocked, playfully so but there was a hint of genuine scepticism in his cracking voice.

“yeah. miss a lot of things about you…”

“like what?” he taunted. 

“just shut up and kiss me, you dork.”

lando didn’t need to be told twice as he closed the small space between you, scooping your waist into his arms and holding you tight. your noses bumped before your lips made contact, making your both giggle as he kissed you into the mountain of pillows.

a loud crack of lightning outside your window made you jump, instinctively pulling him even closer than humanely possible as his lips travelled down your neck — the rumbling of thunder murmured in sync with your heart beat. it felt like the first time you’d met all those years ago, so young and stupidly in love. 

“i love being with you during storms like this… makes me feel safe.”

“i’ve got you and i’m not going anywhere.” he reassured sweetly in a whisper.  you sighed in relief, relaxing into his touch while bringing his face up to yours with shaky hands. there was a nervous surge of energy when you looked into his sparkling green eyes, slightly darkened by the dimly lit room— you believed every word he had said that night and sealed it with a kiss, slowly melting into the covers as he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

a/n — very rarely does this happen but the spice would not come to me for this one. i feel like the vibe just felt different and honestly, i don't know how to feel about it hahaha i realised a long time ago that writing angst doesn't come naturally even though i'm a moody bitch - maybe it's because writing is my escapism lol #end of (f1) season sale!! —see what other customers are buying ✨

[p0orbaby]

May i request a short fluffy blurb of Alexia and readers first Christmas with their new born daughter and the barca team and the team really outdoes by bringing gifts and Alexia and the reader having no space in their alarm with all the gifts. Godmothers mapi and ingrid being the main culprit

-

The living room is a mess, and it’s entirely the Barcelona women’s team’s fault. Wrapping paper litters the floor, piling up around the coffee table like snowdrifts. Your newborn daughter is asleep in her crib in the corner, blissfully unaware of the madness her first Christmas has caused. You, however, are very aware. And so is Alexia, who is leaning against the wall with a look of both awe and dread as yet another ridiculously oversized box is dragged into the room.

“This is too much,” Alexia mutters under her breath, though there’s no heat in her voice.

“It was too much an hour ago,” you reply, balancing a pile of discarded ribbons in one hand and an empty cup of coffee in the other. “Now it’s just… obscene”

Mapi strides in with a smug grin, Ingrid trailing behind her with a stuffed giraffe nearly as tall as you. “This one’s from us!” Mapi announces, gesturing to the giraffe like it’s the Sistine Chapel.

“Of course it is,” Alexia says dryly, eyeing the giraffe. “Because every baby needs a life-sized safari animal”

“Exactly,” Mapi replies, unbothered. “She’s going to love it”

“She can’t even hold her own head up yet,” you point out, though you’re smiling. “What’s she supposed to do with a giraffe?”

“She’ll grow into it,” Ingrid says, as if that makes complete sense.

By now, the room is more present than furniture. There are building blocks, stuffed animals, miniature football kits with Putellas printed on the back, a rocking horse, and something that looks suspiciously like a baby drum set.

“I’m scared to look in the kitchen,” Alexia says, almost to herself.

You glance at her, smirking. “You should be. I saw Patri sneaking in with a box that had ‘For the Future Chef’ on it”

Alexia groans, tipping her head back dramatically. “Why does everyone think she needs to be a prodigy at one week old?”

“To be fair,” you say, “she is your daughter”

Alexia gives you a side-eye but doesn’t argue.

The team, meanwhile, has completely taken over the house. Keira and Lucy are assembling what looks like a plastic playhouse in the corner. Aitana is explaining the benefits of wooden toys to Sandra, who seems far more interested in the cookies on the table. And Mapi, of course, is busy unboxing the giraffe like it’s Christmas morning for her.

“Where are we even going to put all this?” Alexia whispers, watching as Marta adds another wrapped gift to the growing pile.

“We could build an extension,” you joke, though you’re only half kidding.

By the time the team leaves, hours later, the house looks like Santa’s workshop exploded. Your daughter is still blissfully unaware, sleeping peacefully despite the chaos. Alexia sinks onto the couch beside you, surveying the damage.

“You realise this is going to happen every year now,” she says, nudging your shoulder.

You glance at the towering giraffe, the playhouse that’s still half-built, and the mountain of gifts stacked against the wall. “We’ll need a bigger house”

Alexia chuckles, leaning her head against your shoulder. “Or a storage unit”

“Or fewer godparents,” you mutter, eyeing the guilty parties in the kitchen, where Mapi and Ingrid are raiding the fridge.

But despite the madness, there’s a warmth in the room that you wouldn’t trade for anything. Alexia reaches for your hand, her fingers brushing yours gently.

“Merry Christmas,” she says softly, glancing at the baby.

You smile, squeezing her hand. “Merry Christmas”

[redtail-lol]

If you ever need more proof that Tumblr users can't read, OP has repeatedly said it's not about the mug and showed tags that explained the mug is a metaphor or a representation of financial security and people are STILL going on about how to aquire a mug for cheap.

Being upper-middle class is having financial security. And those of us lower classed than that long for what they can have. They can own their home, and have something nicer than a studio apartment to live in. We can't. They can go on vacations and enjoy a change of scenery for a few weeks. We can't. They can buy nice things, and not at their best possible price, and still have their home, and food on the table. We can't.

The mug is not a literal desire to have another mug but being hopelessly unable to find an affordable one. The mug is an example of something simple and basic that people in the lower classes are not allowed to just buy without searching for the cheapest possible one, because we lack the same financial security. It was chosen for the metaphor because it is so simple, and yet it is too expensive for poor people to get brand new at regular stores. The post was never about mugs. It's about the desire for simple and basic things like a home of your own with space and no landlord to dictate what you can and can't do, vacations, security, and yeah, small purchases of nice things you'd just like to have without having to scower the town for a dirt cheap price. It is about living comfortably. It represents small luxuries you can have if you live with financial security. Each thing is just an example of something greater than the word alone.

The condo is an example of being able to afford a home. To have a space of your own. A space with some room in it, not just a cramped apartment. A home that you pay utilities for but doesn't require rent on top of that. A home that you can decide what to do with, you don't have strict rules for maintaining property value. You can just live.

The vacation is leisure time and travel. It is not having to work 2 jobs or work paid overtime often just to make ends meet, but getting to enjoy your day. It is being able to take days off when you need or even want them. It is the ability to travel and go places and afford to do that. And take time off of work to do it.

The mug is small purchases and things in life that are mostly simple and meaningless, yet bring small amounts of comfort and happiness to your life that poor people aren't even able to have. It's the ability to just buy something you want to have without worrying about if you'll be able to afford groceries, and without couponing or searching for the places with the best prices or buying the generic version that always tastes a little worse but it's all you can afford.

It's literally just yearning for the comfort and stability and security that's only afforded to the upper middle class. It's not mugs. This is why your english teacher gave you those assignments

When I grow up I wanna be upper middle class.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FIFTEEN ━━ Future In Our Hands

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

☆ ━ word count: 6.3K

☆ ━ warnings: sexual content (fingering—p giving, morning sex)

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

☆ ━ author’s note: well… that’s it. my first baby all grown up. i actually cannot believe it’s over yall, genuinely. i love all of you so much, i love dani so much, i love dani and paige so much—like how’re we supposed to say goodbye…. anyways thank you all for your support on this fic, take me to church will always, always have a special place in my heart. ALSO! i’m planing to write an epilogue, so i want you guys to send in some ideas of what you might wanna see in that!! i love you all so much, onto the next 🫡

JUST LIKE DANI thought they’d be, things are different now—but also so much better. After leaving her father’s house, she stayed with the Bueckers for a few weeks. They were kind, welcoming, and unwaveringly supportive, but Dani knew it couldn’t last forever. Paige’s family has their own lives, and—no matter how much they told her she wasn’t—Dani didn’t want to intrude. So when her Aunt Julia offered her a place, Dani accepted, moving into her aunt’s modest apartment just outside the city.

It’s been over a month now, and things are good—really good. Julia and Dani have grown close, almost like they’re making up for lost time. Dani feels lighter in this space, unburdened by judgment or fear. And then there’s Grey, Julia’s son. The baby has taken to Dani in a way that’s mutual and immediate; his face lights up every time she walks into the room, and Dani finds herself softening in his presence in ways she never thought possible. For the first time in years, she feels like she belongs somewhere.

The alarm on Dani’s phone blares, slicing through the comfortable silence of her new bedroom. She groans, reaching blindly to shut it off, and Paige groans along with her. Dani’s hand finds the phone, and she presses the button with more force than necessary, silencing the obnoxious buzz. The room goes quiet again, but it doesn’t last long.

Behind her, Paige stirs, nuzzling closer until her face is buried against Dani’s neck. Her arms tighten around Dani’s waist, one hand slipping beneath the hem of Dani’s sweatshirt to rest warm and solid against her bare stomach.

Dani lets out a breath, feeling Paige’s slow, steady breathing against her skin. “We gotta get up,” she murmurs, though the words lack any real urgency.

Paige responds by shaking her head, her voice muffled. “Noooo. Just a few more minutes.”

Dani huffs out a quiet laugh, the corners of her mouth lifting despite herself. “P…”

But before she can say more, Paige groans dramatically and shifts her weight, rolling fully on top of Dani. She’s warm, all long limbs and lazy strength, her hands sliding up Dani’s sides as she tucks her face against Dani’s neck again. Her lips brush against the sensitive skin there, leaving soft, barely-there kisses that make Dani’s heart stumble in her chest.

Dani sighs, her hands coming up to rest on Paige’s hips. “Paige, we’re graduating in a couple hours.”

Paige makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, finally lifting her head to look down at Dani. Her hair is a mess, her eyes half-lidded with sleep, but she’s smiling in that lopsided way that always makes Dani’s stomach flip.

“What time is it?” Paige asks, her voice scratchy and low.

“9:30,” Dani says, trying to keep her tone firm.

Paige scoffs. “We ain’t gotta be there ‘til 11:30. We got time.”

Before Dani can respond, Paige leans down, her lips brushing against Dani’s in a kiss that’s soft and lingering at first. Dani melts into it instinctively, her hands sliding up Paige’s back, but it doesn’t stay soft for long.

The kiss deepens, shedding its softness in favor of something needier, hungrier. Dani feels Paige’s weight pressing down on her, grounding her in the moment, the exhaustion they’d both been clinging to dissipating like mist under the heat building between them. Paige tilts her head to angle the kiss just right, her lips sliding against Dani’s with purpose. There’s nothing rushed about it, but there’s an urgency to the way Paige grips Dani’s waist, her fingers splaying against bare skin like she’s memorizing the shape of her.

And then Paige shifts her hips just so, grinding down in a way that steals the breath from Dani’s lungs. Dani gasps against Paige’s lips, her fingers digging into Paige’s shoulders, and she feels rather than hears the soft hum of satisfaction Paige makes in response.

It’s just enough to spark something deep inside her, enough for her body to react instinctively. Dani’s hips buck up to meet Paige’s, the friction making her head spin, and before she knows it, her arms are around Paige’s neck, pulling her impossibly closer. Paige adjusts, settling fully between Dani’s legs, her weight a warm and steady pressure that has Dani’s pulse thrumming wildly.

The hand Paige had been using to grip Dani’s waist slides up, her palm skimming the curve of Dani’s side and brushing just under the swell of her chest. It’s light, barely there, but it sends a shiver coursing through Dani all the same. Paige feels it—of course she does—and her lips curl into a smirk against Dani’s mouth before she dips her head to trail kisses along Dani’s jaw, her breath hot against sensitive skin.

“P…” Dani breathes, her voice shaky.

Paige doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. Her lips press against the spot just below Dani’s ear, lingering long enough to make Dani squirm beneath her. “Hmm?” Paige hums, her tone teasing, almost lazy, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to Dani.

“Paige,” Dani tries again, her hands sliding up to bury themselves in Paige’s messy blonde hair. She tugs lightly, just enough to make Paige lift her head and meet her gaze. Paige’s eyes are heavy-lidded, her pupils blown wide, and the sight sends another jolt of heat through Dani.

“We’re—” Dani swallows hard, trying to focus, but it’s almost impossible with Paige looking at her like that, with Paige’s hand still skimming her side, her hips still pressed so perfectly against Dani’s. “We’re gonna be late,” she manages, though it comes out far weaker than she intended.

Paige grins, the kind of grin that’s all mischief and affection rolled into one. “We got time,” she says, her voice low and certain. And then she’s insistently reconnecting their mouths, lips sliding together perfectly, teeth clashing just slightly. Dani’s eyes flutter shut as she continues kissing the blonde, feeling Paige’s hands begin to trail downward. They slide along Dani’s stomach, tracing slow circles on her skin, almost teasing. It makes Dani squirm a little until Paige’s fingers brush along the waistband of the pair of Paige’s basketball shorts Dani wore to bed.

Without Paige even asking anything, Dani’s nodding against her, hips shifting. They’re on a time crunch, so if they’re gonna do this, they gotta do it fast. Paige grins against Dani’s lips—probably at her eagerness—before sliding her fingers under the shorts and Dani’s panties in one go.

Dani gasps just slightly as Paige’s fingers reach for her clit, the blonde humming against her lips as she begins to circle the bud. Paige’s mouth disconnects from Dani’s, her lips skimming over her jawline and along her neck. “Mmm,” she hums against Dani’s ear. “So wet, Dan.”

Dani feels her cheeks heat at the words, heat flushing through her face down to her core. She whimpers a little at Paige’s slow circling of her clit, bucking her hips enough to let her know she needs more. Paige understands immediately, and then two of her fingers are sliding inside Dani, the slickness of her making the motion almost effortless. The sound that follows is, indeed, sinful—the obscene wet noises filling the otherwise quiet room, making Dani’s stomach tighten with a renewed wave of arousal.

Paige groans a little, pulling back from Dani’s neck. She grabs at the brunette’s shorts with her free hand, pushing them down so she can see her fingers working, eyes locking onto her digits moving in and out of Dani’s cunt and the way Dani’s body arches up into her. Dani watches Paige watch, catching the blonde bite her lip, eyes almost glazing over as her fingers slide inside Dani.

It makes Dani whimper, her hips instinctively pushing back against Paige’s fingers. “Mmph… please…” she mumbles, not really sure what she’s begging for, but the need in her tone seems to spur Paige on.

Paige responds immediately, thrusting her fingers deeper, curling them just enough to hit that spongy spot inside Dani that makes her gasp loudly. Dani feels Paige’s free hand move back up her body, under her sweatshirt to squeeze at her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple. Paige’s lips find Dani’s neck again, too, biting down lightly before sucking a mark into her skin.

Dani cries out a little at the sensation, her body trembling as the pleasure begins to overwhelm her. “God, P,” she moans, voice ragged.

She feels Paige grin against her neck once more, her fingers moving faster now, her thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles back on her clit. “Like that?” Paige whispers, breath hot against Dani’s skin.

Dani just nods, her breath hitching as she struggles to respond. “Yeah,” she finally manages to gasp out, her hips moving in time with Paige’s fingers. “Just like that.”

Dani bites down onto her lip hard, probably enough to draw blood, keeping herself in check because she has absolutely no interest in her aunt hearing her moan Paige’s name. Paige’s fingers are just relentless as they thrust in and out, the wet sounds between them growing louder and more obscene with every second. Dani feels Paige moan against her neck and that, along with the curling of Paige’s fingers, has Dani’s brows furrowing together, eyes scrunching closed, her whole body tightening.

“’M close,” Dani whimpers breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper as her nails dig into Paige’s back.

Dani feels Paige’s fingers press even harder at her words, scissoring inside her, angling them just right. “Come on, Dan,” Paige encourages. “Wanna feel it.”

That‘a all it seems to take. With a muffled moan, Dani’s body goes taut, her muscles contracting around Paige’s fingers as she cums hard, her hips bucking as waves of pleasure crash over her. Paige holds her tightly, her fingers slowing just enough to guide Dani through her orgasm, her lips still pressing gentle kisses to her neck.

“Fuck,” Dani gasps, her body finally going limp as she collapses back against the mattress, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to catch her breath.

Paige smirks down at her, slipping her fingers out. Paige presses a gentle kiss to Dani’s jaw, then her lips, then her nose, then the spot between her eyebrows before pulling back so she’s eye-to-eye with the girl. “Now it’s time to get up,” she says, cheesing.

Dani rolls her eyes, slapping at Paige’s arm lightly. “Shut up.”

THE FINAL APPLAUSE feels like it echoes forever, reverberating around the crowded football field. Dani sits there in the plastic chair, the edges of the graduation gown stiff against her arms, her cap threatening to slip off her head. She doesn’t move. Around her, classmates are already standing, hugging, and tossing their caps into the air, but Dani feels rooted in place.

It’s over.

Her childhood—whatever was left of it—has officially ended.

That’s the only thought looping in her head. The years she spent on cramped bleachers, in loud cafeterias, on basketball courts that smelled like old wood and sweat—all of it is behind her now. Her chest feels heavy with something she can’t quite name. Relief? Sadness? Fear? She shakes it off and stands, taking a deep breath that doesn’t fill her lungs the way she wants it to.

When the crowd begins to disperse, she finally spots Paige a few rows over, standing tall and blonde and unmistakable in her blue gown. Thaliah is next to her, smirking as she bats Paige’s hands away from the crooked cap on her head. Dani weaves through the sea of gowns, her own steps feeling distant and mechanical. But when she reaches them, her grin comes naturally.

“Look at us,” Thaliah says, throwing her arms around both Dani and Paige, drawing them into a three-person hug. Her grin is wide. “All grown up!”

Dani chuckles, pulling back just enough to breathe. “Finally free,” she agrees, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Thaliah rolls her eyes. “Yeah, free to do what? Work? Be an adult? Ugh.”

Dani doesn’t answer because her eyes are drawn to Paige, who’s blinking quickly, her lashes wet. Dani’s smile softens as she takes in the way Paige’s lower lip wobbles just slightly before she sucks it between her teeth.

“Aww, babe,” Dani says, her voice teasing but fond. She steps closer, brushing her thumb under Paige’s eye to catch a tear before it can fall.

“I’m not crying,” Paige says immediately, sniffing and straightening her shoulders like she can will the emotion away.

“You’re totally crying,” Thaliah chimes in, her grin wicked. “Somebody get a camera!”

Paige narrows her eyes. “I ain’t crying!”

“You are,” Dani teases, her hand lingering against Paige’s cheek before letting it fall back to her side.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, but the corner of her mouth betrays her with a twitch of a smile.

The three of them laugh then, the kind of laughter that feels bigger than the moment. It’s a release, a shared acknowledgment of everything they’ve been through together and everything that’s ahead of them. Dani lets it wash over her, lets herself feel the warmth of it as they shuffle out into the packed hallway.

The noise is overwhelming, a cacophony of voices and camera flashes and the occasional squeal from someone who’s just spotted their family. Dani’s chest tightens briefly, but she shakes it off. This is supposed to be a happy day. She forces herself to focus on the here and now.

“Alright, I’m off,” Thaliah announces, clapping them both on the shoulder. “If I don’t get to my mom soon, she’s gonna start yelling my full name in front of everyone, and we can’t have that.” She gives the pair one last grin before disappearing through the crowd.

Paige stays close as they navigate through the throng of people, her hand brushing Dani’s back as they walk. Dani can feel the slight tremor in Paige’s energy, the kind that only comes when Paige is overwhelmed, but she doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she nudges Paige gently with her elbow, and Paige gives her a grateful smile.

They find Paige’s family first. Her mom is the first person Dani notices, standing near the bleachers with a wide smile and arms open. Lauren, Ryan, and Drew are bouncing on their toes, waving furiously when they spot Paige. Bob is chatting animatedly with Paige’s grandparents, and her aunt is juggling a camera and a gift bag with tissue paper spilling out the top.

“Paige!” Lauren squeals, launching herself at her older sister the second she’s within reach. Paige laughs, catching her and spinning her around before setting her down. Ryan and Drew both aren’t far behind, wrapping their arms around Paige’s waist and clinging like a little koalas.

Dani watches it all unfold, a small smile tugging at her lips. It’s a lot, seeing all of them there, so many people who love Paige and want to celebrate her. A small pang settles in her chest, but she pushes it aside quickly.

She doesn’t have to look far for her own family. Julia is standing just a few feet away, holding baby Grey on her hip, her smile soft and full of pride. Dani’s grandparents are beside her, their expressions warm and welcoming. It’s quieter, simpler, but no less meaningful.

Julia’s arms are open before Dani even realizes she’s moving, and she steps into the hug, letting herself sink into the familiarity of it. “I’m so proud of you, Dani,” Julia whispers into her ear, her voice thick with emotion.

The words hit harder than Dani expects, her throat tightening as she blinks rapidly, willing herself not to cry. She pulls back after a moment, forcing a smile as she meets Julia’s gaze. “Thanks,” she says, her voice a little hoarse.

Grey babbles something unintelligible, reaching for Dani with chubby hands, and she can’t help but laugh as she takes him into her arms. “Hey, buddy,” she murmurs, bouncing him slightly. He giggles, his tiny hands grabbing at the tassel on her cap.

Her grandparents step forward next, wrapping her in hugs that smell like lavender and old books, murmuring their congratulations with quiet pride. Dani’s smile feels a little steadier now, a little more natural.

It’s not perfect. It’s not what she used to imagine this day would look like. There’s an emptiness where her parents should be, a hollow ache she tries not to focus on. But looking at Julia’s warm smile, Grey’s wide eyes, and her grandparents’ unwavering support, she decides it’s enough.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Dani turns to find Bob, Paige’s dad, leaning in for a hug. His grin is kind and effortless, the kind that makes Dani feel seen, like she belongs. She melts into the embrace, letting him clap her on the back as she smiles against his shoulder.

“Look at you!” he exclaims as they pull back. “High school graduate. You’ve done good, Dan.”

Her grin widens. Bob’s probably the closest thing she has to a dad these days, and she’s grateful for how steady he’s always been, how he’s never made her feel out of place. “Thanks, Bob.”

Before she can say more, Amy swoops in, wrapping Dani in a tight hug that smells like fresh laundry and perfume. “Aw, Dani, all grown up!” Amy squeals, pulling back to hold Dani by the shoulders and give her a good once-over. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Dani laughs, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Please don’t cry, Amy. Paige’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Amy laughs, her hands squeezing Dani’s shoulders briefly before she lets go. “No promises.”

Dani makes her way down the line, crouching slightly to hug Paige’s little siblings. Lauren and Ryan and Drew all beam at her, their arms wrapping around her tightly. Drew leans into her side, his small voice eager as he says, “You’re coming to the cookout after, right?”

“Of course,” Dani says, ruffling his hair before pulling Lauren in for a quick squeeze. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

When she stands, she feels a hand slide into hers, warm and familiar. Paige is there, her blue eyes soft as she looks at Dani, squeezing her hand gently. “Okay,” Amy says suddenly, clapping her hands together like she’s directing a photoshoot. “I need pictures!”

Paige groans, loud and exaggerated, her head tilting back like this is the most torturous request in the world. “Mom, come on—”

“No complaints!” Amy cuts her off, already holding up her phone. “This is a big day! Paige, Dani, come on.”

Paige rolls her eyes but grins as she tugs Dani closer by the hand. Dani follows easily, letting Paige guide her until they’re standing shoulder to shoulder. Paige’s arm wraps around her waist, her hand resting lightly on Dani’s hip, and Dani lets her own hand settle comfortably against Paige’s back. They tilt their heads together instinctively, their smiles wide and natural as the first flash goes off.

One photo turns into three, then four, and Dani quickly loses track of how many cameras are aimed at them. Both of Paige’s parents are taking pictures, as are their grandparents, Julia, and Paige’s aunt. It feels like every angle is covered, and Dani doesn’t even know where to look at this point.

“Oh, wait, wait!” Julia exclaims suddenly, waving her free hand while balancing Grey on her hip. “Take one showing the caps!”

Dani and Paige both blink at her, confused for a moment before they realize what she means. “Oh!” Paige says, reaching up to tug her cap off. “Yeah, yeah.”

Dani does the same, pulling her cap off and holding it in her hands. When she glances over at Paige, she can’t help but laugh. “Ooh, cap head,” she teases, nodding toward Paige’s hair, which is flattened awkwardly where the cap had been.

Paige narrows her eyes at her, a mock glare that doesn’t last long. “Fix it.”

“Please,” Dani corrects, smirking as she leans in to do just that—fix the mess. Her fingers comb through the strands of blonde until Paige’s hair looks normal again. Paige huffs but doesn’t pull away, her lips twitching upward in the smallest smile.

When Dani’s satisfied, she steps back, only to feel Paige’s hand brushing against her own hair. “Hang on,” Paige mutters, her fingers quick and sure as they smooth out Dani’s own cap-induced disaster.

Once they’ve both deemed each other photo-ready, they angle their caps toward the cameras, holding them up so the bedazzled designs are clearly visible. UConn logos sparkle under the sun, the rhinestones they painstakingly glued on last night catching every flash.

“Go Huskies!” Amy cheers from behind the phone, her voice bright with pride as the camera clicks again.

Dani feels her grin stretch impossibly wider. In that moment, she forgets about the ache in her chest, the absence of her parents, the uncertainty of the future. All she feels is this—Paige’s arm warm around her waist, their friends and family laughing and cheering, and the glimmer of the UConn logos they’ll carry with them into the next chapter of their lives.

THE NIGHT feels heavy in the best way—cool air brushing against Paige’s skin, her hoodie soft against her arms, and the low hum of cicadas filling the spaces between quiet laughter. It’s dark now, the kind of dark that stretches across the park like a blanket, broken only by the dim glow of the streetlamp by the parking lot and the stars above. The four of them—Paige, Dani, Thaliah, and Jalen—are settled into their usual spots at the park they’ve claimed since what feels like forever. The basketball court has cracks they know like the backs of their hands, the picnic table has their initials carved into the wood, and everything about it feels like home.

Paige leans against the basketball hoop, dribbling lazily as Jalen sets up for a halfhearted shot. He misses—terribly—and Paige laughs, grabbing the rebound and tossing the ball back to him. “Bro,” she teases, “you might need to rethink that NBA dream.”

Jalen points at her, mock offended. “You laugh now, but when I’m in the league, you’re not getting courtside tickets.”

“Good,” Paige fires back with a grin. “I’ll be too busy winning nattys at UConn anyway.”

The words feel easy, automatic, but they carry a weight she’s only just starting to realize. UConn. Storrs. It’s been this abstract, glittering thing for so long, but now it’s real—a fresh start, a new chapter. Summer sessions start in just a couple weeks. Basketball in the basketball capital of the world. And Dani. Dani will be there too.

She glances toward the picnic table, where Dani’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Thaliah, both of them half-focused on Thaliah’s phone. Milkshakes sit abandoned on the table, sweating in the humid air, and Dani’s curled hair falls into her face as she leans closer to the screen. Paige watches her for a moment, her grin softening into something quieter.

“Aye,” Jalen says, nudging Paige with his elbow and smirking a little. “You good?”

“Hm?” Paige blinks, startled out of her thoughts. “Yeah, I’m good.” She spins the basketball once, catching it easily. “Just thinking about how much better I am than you.”

Jalen groans. “Aight, thin ice, Bueckers.”

Paige laughs, tossing the ball his way before walking toward the table, her curiosity piqued by whatever has Dani and Thaliah so engrossed. She hops up onto the bench beside Dani, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “What’s so fascinating?”

Thaliah glances up briefly, holding her phone out so Paige can see. “My roommate at UCLA,” she says, scrolling through an Instagram profile of a girl with tanned skin and lots of beach photos. “She’s already from Cali, so.”

“Hmm,” Paige hums, tilting her head as she studies the photos. “She seems chill.”

“I think so too,” Dani agrees.

Thaliah nods. “Yeah, she’s nice. We’ve been texting. She’s into film, which gives us somethin’ in common, and she’s already invited me to a festival this fall. I think we’re gonna get along.”

Paige nods at the words before watching Dani groan dramatically, leaning her head against Thaliah’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe you’re gonna be in sunny LA while I’m stuck in Storrs with this creature.” She gestures lazily in Paige’s direction without looking up.

“Aye!” Paige exclaims, feigning offense. She ruffles Dani’s curls lightly, earning an indignant squawk. “Watch that mouth.”

Dani swats at Paige’s hand but grins, leaning back in her seat, humming, “Mhm.”

Paige smirks. “It’ll be fun, you know it.”

“Debatable,” Dani shoots back, but there’s a warmth in her tone that makes Paige’s chest feel strangely tight.

Jalen finally joins them, the basketball tucked under one arm. He stands behind them, leaning over to try and get a glimpse. “What’re we looking at?”

“My future roomie,” Thaliah says, holding up her phone again.

Jalen squints at the screen, then nods approvingly. “Damn. She fine.”

Dani bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her milkshake as Thaliah groans and mutters something about boys being predictable. Paige just shakes her head, leaning back on the bench and letting the easy rhythm of their banter wash over her. It’s moments like this, she thinks, that she’s going to miss most.

But then Dani’s hand brushes against hers, her fingers curling briefly around Paige’s, and she thinks maybe she doesn’t have to miss it. Not really. Not when Dani’s right here, and when tomorrow, and every day after, will start with both of them heading toward the same place. Together.

Jalen’s phone buzzes on the bench, the screen lighting up with a notification. Paige notices it before he does and glances over, catching the slight furrow in his brow as he picks it up and reads the message. “Ah, man,” he says, standing and shoving the phone into his pocket. “My mom’s tellin’ me to get home. Graduation tomorrow and all.”

Thaliah stretches, groaning a little as she stands. “Guess I’m out too, then. He’s my ride.”

Paige frowns, tilting her head at them. “Wow, ditching us already?”

Thaliah smirks as she grabs her jacket. “Hey, not all of us can be completely irresponsible. Some of us have families that enforce things like curfews and sleep schedules.”

“Lame,” Paige teases, but she stands to hug Jalen, patting him on the back. “Congrats ahead of time, though. Have fun tomorrow.”

Jalen grins, hugging her back.

Thaliah waves as they head toward the parking lot, leaving Paige and Dani alone on the weathered wooden bench. The night feels quieter now, though not uncomfortable—just different. The cicadas hum in the trees, and the faint smell of grass and pavement lingers in the air. Paige lets herself enjoy the moment for a second, her gaze drifting over to Dani.

Dani sits quietly, staring out at the court, her expression unreadable. It’s the kind of stillness Dani falls into sometimes, where Paige knows she’s in her head about something but won’t say what.

Paige stands, grabbing the basketball from beside her and turning it over in her hands. The weight of it feels familiar and grounding. “Play with me?”

Dani turns to look at her, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Play with me,” Paige repeats, her tone lighter, teasing. She bounces the ball once against the ground for emphasis.

Dani snorts. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.” Paige grins, holding the ball against her hip.

“Uh-uh,” Dani protests, shaking her head. “We both know how that’ll end.”

“And?” Paige arches a brow.

Dani doesn’t move, her expression skeptical. Paige rolls her eyes, stepping closer and grabbing Dani’s hand, tugging her to her feet. Dani resists for about half a second before giving in with an exasperated sigh.

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Dani mutters.

“Yep.” Paige leads her toward the court, the basketball bouncing lightly in her other hand.

Once they’re on the court, Paige dribbles a couple of times before passing the ball to Dani. “1v1,” she says, her voice challenging.

Dani catches the ball awkwardly, holding it for a moment as she stares at Paige. “This is stupid,” she says, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now. “We both know who’s gonna win.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Paige replies, dropping into a defensive stance. “C’mon. Play.”

With a small shake of her head, Dani starts to dribble—slowly, clumsily. The ball bounces unevenly against the pavement, and Paige bites back a laugh. She gives Dani a few seconds before darting in to steal the ball.

Dani yelps and pulls the ball to her chest, her arms wrapping protectively around it like it’s a lifeline.

“That is illegal!” Paige exclaims, standing in front of her with her hands on her hips.

“Then quit tryna take it from me!” Dani fires back, her voice half-laughing, half-exasperated as she shifts away from Paige.

Paige grins, circling around Dani like a shark. “Aight, fine. If you wanna be like that, we can be like that.”

Before Dani can respond, Paige lunges, trying to pry the ball free. When that doesn’t work, her fingers find their way to Dani’s ribs, tickling mercilessly.

Dani shrieks, laughter spilling out of her uncontrollably. “Paige! Stop!” she yells, twisting and turning to escape, but Paige keeps going, grinning against her ear.

“This… is… definitely… a… foul!” Dani manages between gasps, her laughter growing louder as her grip on the ball falters.

“Don’t care,” Paige replies, her voice smug as she tickles harder. Dani’s back presses into Paige’s chest as she struggles, her legs wobbling beneath her.

Paige spins the brunette around, her fingers relentless against Dani’s ribs, tickling so hard that Dani’s squealing, “Paige!” nearly collapsing under the weight of her laughter.

Finally, Paige relents, stepping back as the basketball slips from Dani’s grasp and rolls across the court. Dani leans against Paige, panting and giggling, her forehead pressing lightly into Paige’s chest.

“I hate you,” Dani mutters breathlessly, swatting weakly at Paige’s hoodie.

Paige just grins, her hands settling on Dani’s hips. “Nah, you don’t.”

Dani pulls back slightly, glaring up at her with an exaggerated pout. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Paige replies, her voice softer now, teasing but with an edge of sincerity. Paige’s grin widens, her hand sliding upward to cup Dani’s jaw. Her thumb brushes lightly against Dani’s cheek as she leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “C’mon, Dan, you don’t hate me.”

Dani rolls her eyes, relenting. Paige thinks she hears her breath catch. “No, I don’t.”

And then Paige tilts her head, her lips brushing against Dani’s, soft at first, as if feeling the rhythm of the moment. But then, the hesitation fades. Paige presses forward, coaxing Dani’s lips to part, and with a quiet, deep inhale, her tongue slips into Dani’s mouth.

Paige feels Dani’s mouth opening slightly more, a sigh escaping her lips. She shifts closer, hands sliding down from Paige’s chest to her sides, pulling them tighter together, the warmth of her body mingling with Paige’s. Their tongues tangle, teeth clashing slightly.

Paige’s hand on Dani’s hip trails downward, fingers slipping, finding purchase on the curve of her ass. She squeezes lightly, feeling the taut muscle beneath her fingertips, and that small movement has Dani grinning against her lips, the playful smirk against Paige’s mouth making Paige’s stomach flip.

Paige lets out a soft laugh through the kiss, a breathless sound, but she doesn’t pull away. She deepens the kiss instead, her fingers pressing a little harder, pulling Dani closer still. It’s like a slow burn, the way their bodies are melting together, hot and heavy but not frantic.

Paige takes her time. She lets her lips linger, firm but careful, savoring the way Dani responds. There’s a heat between them, an energy that buzzes under Paige’s skin, but she reins it in, keeps it simmering just beneath the surface. This moment isn’t about rushing forward—it’s about Dani, about the way she fits so perfectly in Paige’s hands, the way her lips feel impossibly soft and warm, the way she melts into the kiss.

Dani shifts slightly, her hands sliding up from Paige’s chest to loop around her neck. It pulls Paige down further, and she lets it happen, leaning into the touch, into Dani. The kiss slows for a beat, their lips brushing more gently now, like the initial spark has given way to something softer, something steadier.

Paige pulls back just an inch, her forehead resting against Dani’s. She opens her eyes slowly, and the sight of Dani—her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes half-lidded and searching—nearly takes her breath away.

“Dan,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and a little unsteady.

Dani blinks up at her, her fingers still playing lightly with the hair at the nape of Paige’s neck. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. The way she looks at Paige—like she’s seeing her for the first time and yet has always known her—says everything.

Paige feels her phone buzz against her skin, the vibration pulling her reluctantly out of the moment, out of Dani’s warmth. She lets out a soft breath of frustration, but she’s still not ready to fully pull away. Her hand stays on Dani’s ass, fingers tracing the curve of her hip in a way that keeps their bodies pressed together.

She pulls the phone from her pocket with a sigh, glancing at the screen, but the feeling of Dani still so close, so tangible, is enough to make her hold on just a moment longer. It’s a message from her dad asking if she and Dani want to come back and watch a movie with Drew, Ryan, and Lauren.

She shifts the phone to face Dani, letting her read it for herself. The light from the screen illuminates their faces, casting soft shadows across Dani’s features. For a second, Paige just looks at her, at the way Dani’s brow furrows slightly in thought as she processes the message, and then the way her lips curve into that familiar smile that always does something to Paige’s chest.

“You wanna?” Paige asks quietly, her voice soft but steady, letting Dani know she’s willing to go along with whatever she decides.

Dani looks at the message and then up at Paige, smiling just a little—like the smallest of secrets are being shared. She nods, and that small gesture makes Paige’s heart skip just a little.

“Yeah,” Dani says, her voice barely above a whisper, but there’s something in her tone that makes Paige’s chest tighten with affection. “Let’s go.”

Paige smiles back, the warmth spreading in her chest, and presses one last kiss to the corner of Dani’s mouth. It’s soft, lingering for a second longer than it probably should, but Paige can’t help it. She can’t help but savor the taste of Dani, the way her lips feel like home. It’s like everything before this—before the arguing, before the space between them, before all the pain—has led to this.

This moment. This kiss. And everything that comes after it.

When she pulls back just a fraction, still feeling the heat of Dani’s skin under her hands, Paige wraps her arm around Dani’s waist and guides them back toward the picnic table. Her fingers graze the soft curve of Dani’s waist, a quiet gesture of possession, of love, of a future they haven’t yet fully realized but are starting to piece together.

They collect their milkshakes, Paige grabbing both cups, offering Dani her Oreo one, who takes it with a grateful, quiet smile, and they walk side by side, their shoulders brushing with every step. They don’t say much, the silence between them comfortable, an unspoken understanding that fills the space where words aren’t needed. There’s no pressure, no rush, just the steady rhythm of their footsteps as they head back.

Side by side, they walk back to Paige’s house, their bodies pressed close enough that the warmth between them is constant, never faltering. Neither of them speaks much, but the air between them feels thick with the weight of it all—the unspoken words, the shared memories, the connection that neither of them can deny anymore. They walk in sync, like they’ve always been meant to, and Paige finds that she doesn’t need words to fill the space.

The familiar sights of their neighborhood pass by, the houses and the trees, the sound of their feet on the pavement, the occasional rustle of wind through the leaves. They pass Dani’s dad’s house, and neither of them looks at it. Paige’s mind briefly flickers to that house, to the past, to the pain that had lingered there for so long, but it’s all behind them now. That part of their lives is a closed door, and neither of them needs to open it again.

They reach the front door of Paige’s house, and Paige can’t help but glance at Dani as she opens it. The door opens with a soft creak, and for a brief moment, Paige holds the door open with one hand while she rests her forehead against Dani’s. It’s a simple thing, but there’s something about it, something about the way Dani’s body fits against hers, something about the softness of her skin under Paige’s touch that makes it all feel like it’s meant to be.

And in that moment, Paige knows, without a doubt, that everything before this was just the beginning. Because this—this is their forever.

Then, Lauren calls for them both from inside, telling their names. Dani grins up at Paige, murmuring, “C’mon,” pulling her inside.

And as they step inside the house, with their hands still intertwined, the door closes softly behind them, sealing shut their childhoods, their high school days, and all the ups and downs that surrounded them. The future’s wide open, and Paige and Dani are ready to take that step into it.

[lustspren]

Enchanted

Male reader x Loossemble's Gowon (playing Ashley).

tags: harvard student gowon, public sex, bathroom sex, blowjob, facial, pussy eating.

word count: 8.2k

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Settling in a new state was a pain, especially if you were a college student who had just entered Harvard, no less. But that bar on the outskirts of campus had become your little refuge every weekend after doing your homework.

Not knowing anyone and not having any friends yet had led you to inevitably look for some entertainment on your own. That's how you found that gem: a wide three-story building—one of them underground—made of red brick and adorned with narrow colonial-style windows with pale wooden frames.

From the first moment you walked in there you were enthralled by the faint aroma of old wood and the freshly made coffee. There were spaces for all kinds of activities, mainly bars of course. But there were also tables to eat at, pool tables, dart boards, and even reading spaces with bookshelves where students like you could go to simply relax while doing their stuff.

Despite all these mini-ecosystems designed so that everyone could choose their preferred environment, all the activity was concentrated in the main bar on the second floor, where you spent most of your time and where you were at that very moment, on a cold Saturday at 8 pm.

The night was particularly quiet, lacking the usual crowds that there were at that time. It was probably due to the weather; you understood that many preferred to be in their rooms, warm under their blankets and enjoying their free time in a calm way. But you weren't doing too bad there, sitting on one of the stools in front of the semi-circular bar while drinking a beer and watching a Celtics game, well wrapped up in your windbreaker and winter hat.

There were few people around you, some watching the game as well and others just chatting among themselves at tables in the corners. The floor below, however, was and sounded busier since a birthday was being celebrated, and the drinks were slowly making the chatter blossom. You wouldn't have liked to be there at that moment; mass social events made you anxious, even more so when you had no one to talk to.

In any case, both places were better than being out there in the snow. Your gaze occasionally strayed to the window to look at it. The flakes floated slowly in the air, falling unhurriedly on the roofs and branches of the trees. It was late November, and the snowfall had only just begun, so there was still a while until Massachusetts looked like the North Pole itself. For now, however, it was nice.

But it wasn't all Christmas fantasy and candy and happiness. Unfortunately, final exam season was approaching since the end of the semester was in mid-December, and that meant doubling the effort and stress in equal measure. You were taking it easy, since you had practically every subject under control except for Molecular Genetics, but of course you wouldn't get too confident. In fact, you were enjoying that moment of relaxation since you would have to spend the whole next day studying without a break.

You had to admit that everything would have been easier if you belonged to one of the common study groups that were formed for these situations, but being a new student, you sadly had to settle for what little you had. That is, yourself. At least for now. Because you wished with all your heart that the situation would change soon.

Who was going to say that it would. Maybe not in the way you expected.

"Nah but I swear to god bruh, JT is kinda dumb sometimes," said the bartender, Jordan, while cleaning a glass. He was one of the ones watching the game with you.

"I mean, at least he tries," you said. "But in this game he needs to stop taking the shots."

"Oh god bro, they put me in the game and I'm making more threes than him."

While you, Jordan and two other guys were commenting on the game, another person sat down in the empty chair to your right. You didn't pay attention, as just like you, the person also started watching the game until the end of that quarter.

"Damn sorry Ash, I didn't see you, hi," Jordan said to the person who had sat next to you. "What are you doing here today?"

You turned to see this Ash person, not knowing that you were going to be completely dazzled by what your eyes were going to see. She was an Asian girl, with beautiful dark brown hair, pretty full cheeks and small bright eyes. You searched through your memories to see if you had seen her before, but it was unlikely that you had seen a girl that pretty and not remember her face. But she was really fucking adorable, wearing a blue jacket that looked like it was going to eat her up because of how petite she was.

"Hi Jordan," the girl replied, her lips slightly curved into a smile. "I was at the birthday party down there but well, I got overstimulated and my social battery got drained."

You didn't want to seem like a weirdo, so before she noticed, you looked away from her and acted nonchalant as you watched the commercials.

"Oh I can understand why," Jordan said, leaning his fists on the bar. "Those motherfuckers are loud as fuck. Same as always?"

"Nah, pour me something mild this time, I have to study tomorrow and I don't want a headache," Ash replied.

Jordan let out a laugh and stepped away from the bar.

"Him too," he pointed his index finger at you before turning his back to you. "And he's on his fourth beer."

You were flabbergasted. He definitely hadn't done that shit. You were forced to look at the girl and him with an embarrassed chuckle, shrugging.

“Oh, you’re a Harvard student too?” Ash asked, turning to look at you. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I am,” you nodded. “And I haven’t seen you either. What faculty are you in?"

"Data Science, and you?"

"Biomedicine," you replied.

"Cool!" She raised her eyebrows, and turned her body towards you to give you her full attention. "So how's that going?"

You sighed and took a sip of your beer, which was almost empty.

"I'm a new student," you set the glass down on the bar. "So I'll know after this semester."

"Oh, new student huh?" she raised an eyebrow. "I guess that's been the hardest thing so far."

Jordan then came back to you and gave her a glass as well, from the color and bubbles you guessed it was vodka and lemon soda. You hoped it was more one thing than the other, because if not, there was absolutely nothing mild about that drink.

"Don't even remind me," you said with a sigh, as she drank from her glass. "It's been a shitty three months."

"Why?" she cocked her head. "I mean, I really don't mean to be nosy, but Harvard always does a good job of integrating new students with the others."

"Yeah, but that doesn't guarantee that people will like you," you then locked eyes with Jordan, who you motioned for another beer.

"But you don't seem like a bad guy, why wouldn't people like you?"

You shrugged, taking the freshly opened bottle of beer that Jordan had given you.

"I don't know, I think it's because I look at everyone like I want to kick their butts."

She giggled, and it was so adorable that you couldn't help but smile too.

"And you want to do that?" she asked.

"Sometimes," you brought the beer close to your mouth. "With some pampered jerks." You drank.

"Ah yeah, there are plenty of those here. I'm Ashley, by the way," she extended her hand towards you.

"I'm Mason," you accepted her hand and shook it with a small smile. "And you're one of the few people I've told my name to."

The last quarter of the game had already started, but it was impossible for you to pay attention to it, because you and Ashley were engaged in a conversation that flowed like the flow of a river downhill.

She told you interesting things about her life, like for example that she no longer lived on campus and had her own apartment not far from the bar. She also told you that she lived for a few years in South Korea with her mother, and that she had returned to the United States exclusively to study her degree. You didn't have too many things in common, contrary to what usually happens in romantic movies, but you could tell that chemistry arose between the two of you. She listened to you happily while you talked about your interests and hobbies, and you listened to her too. You laughed, and a lot, which seemed unreal to you since you had counted the times you had laughed with someone since you arrived at that place.

And damn, she was so, so pretty when she laughed that it made your inner self giggle and kick. Everything about her was adorable: her voice, the way she expressed herself, her smile, her hair, and even something as silly as the way she arched her eyebrows when you told her something slightly crazy.

Calling it love at first sight was downright stupid, because you were sure that to her you were just a friendly guy to have a nice chat with, but you were smitten. It was perhaps hasty to feel that way, but you couldn't just ignore that she, apart from being beautiful, was the first person your age that you had talked to for more than half an hour without feeling like you were bothering her.

And considering your situation, well, that was quite a lot.

"I swear to god!" you said, telling her about a time you had to chase your dog for almost two streets. "If it wasn't for..."

"Ashley?" a female voice said, coming from the stairs.

You and Ashley turned around. At the bottom of the stairs were two girls, both tipsy looking. One of them walked towards you.

"We thought you had gone home!" she said, standing next to you. "You coming? We're gonna continue the party at Riley's. place"

"Oh, sure," Ashley looked at you for a moment and then back at her. "Can you wait for me downstairs? I want to say goodbye to Mason."

"Who the fuck is Mason?"

You just held up your hand with an awkward smile.

"My pleasure," you said.

"Oh, my pleasure too," she nodded and then looked at Ashley. "Hurry up then, we're about to leave!"

"Yeah yeah go Vivian," Ashley dismissed her with a carefree wave of her hand.

Vivian turned around and walked with the other girl back down to the first floor. Ashley then looked at you.

"Sorry about that, I would have loved to hear more of that story," she said with a giggle.

"Don't worry," you shook your head and looked at your watch. "I'm actually running late too, I don't want to sleep that late."

"Oh, come on then?" she asked, standing up while pointing to the stairs. "We can give you a ride to campus if you want."

"Nah no need," you said with a chuckle. "I'll finish this beer and walk, but thanks."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah yeah," you nodded. "Worse distances I've walked."

"Alright!" she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets as she took steps backwards. "It was nice meeting you, Mason, really."

"Same here. Will you be back here next weekend?"

"Mmm maybe, maybe not," she shrugged. "I don't know, it all depends on my schedule."

"I understand," you nodded. "Well, I'm here every Saturday after 6."

"Good to know," she nodded with a smile. "See you later!"

She turned to walk back down the stairs, but you couldn't just let her leave like that. Who knew when you'd see her again?

"Hey, Ashley!" you called out to her, and she stopped with one foot on the first step.

"Huh?"

"Uhm... I don't mean to be intrusive, but can I have your number?"

Ashley chuckled, and you thought you'd made a fool of yourself and she'd leave, but instead she walked back up and walked towards you.

"I don't give my number to just anyone," she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "But we can follow each other on Instagram."

Well, a start was a start.

"Yeah I'm cool with that!"

Ashley showed you her Instagram, and you quickly went to yours to follow her. She then followed you back.

"There ya go!" she put her phone back away, and walked backwards towards the stairs. "Well, now I really have to go, my friends are going to kill me."

"Absolutely. Take care, okay?"

"You too!" Ashley said, then turned around and walked down the stairs.

"Uhm... I don't want to be intrusive, but can I have your number?" you heard Jordan scoff behind you, followed by a laugh. "Oh my god."

You sighed and turned back to the bar.

"Shut up bro," you said, and took a long drink of your beer.

After finishing that beer you finally asked for the bill and paid before leaving. The snowfall had gotten worse outside, so you spent the whole way back to campus with your head down and your hands in the pockets of your windbreaker, but most of all, thinking about her.

You couldn't help but feel like a complete idiot. She was a girl you had just met and she already had butterflies in your stomach. But how could she not? Every time you remembered her smiling it was like seeing a cute picture of Kirby, she even sounded like him when she laughed. She was unpleasantly cute.

When you got to your dorm the first thing you did was sit down and check her Instagram. She didn't have too many posts, but the few she had were 15 photos or more. Without realizing it, you spent about ten minutes absolutely mesmerized by her beauty, but because of that you missed a damn like on an old post that you quickly deleted.

You dropped the phone and brought your hands to your mouth, staring into absolute nothingness, thinking of the possible repercussions that would have, the worst being that you were going to look like a fucking stalker. God, you were a complete idiot.

You had no choice but to try to forget about it. Pretend it hadn't happened. Instead of thinking about it, you focused on attending to the needs of your stomach, which had been growling for a couple of hours, and after that, you took a shower and went straight to bed.

Despite being constantly aware of your surroundings, you didn't see Ashley during that entire exam week. It was kind of odd: your schedules would really have to be too different for you to never see her, even from a distance, and yet, at least once at some random hour you had to see her; Harvard wasn't that big.

She did upload the occasional story to her Instagram from time to time, many of them being things from her daily life and rather few of herself, whether in mirrors or selfies with her friends. There was one day when she even uploaded a story drinking a cocktail. Who knows where. Questionable, but certainly not your problem.

However, you didn't have time to be focused on what she did or didn't do. The week had been hard as hell, as had the exams you were prepared for but still felt like constantly walking a tightrope over an abyss. You were sure you had done well in each one, but there were several study sessions that had you with a severe headache that didn't go away until it was all over.

It was an exhausting week, and emotionally one to forget. But on Friday night something happened that you didn't expect, something that had you doing backflips and running up and down the walls of your bedroom. A like from Ashley on one of your old posts.

There were a couple of ways to interpret it. It could have just been a mistake, like yours had a few days ago. But that was ruled out when you realized that she hadn't unliked your post. The other way to interpret it was that she was making fun of you and wanted to let you know that she realized what you had done.

And of course, the last way to interpret it was that... Nah, that wasn't possible. Or was it? How the hell was the human version of Kirby going to be interested in you? That was impossible. You had only talked to her once, and you didn't remember being Prince Charming exactly. You had just been you, and that wasn't enough to make a girl like you after just an hour of conversation.

Or maybe it was? Thinking about it had you stressed out. You wanted to DM her, but doing so right now would make you look like a desperate weirdo. Maybe you lacked balls, but you wanted to do everything you could to not really scare this girl away, so you were going to take things slow and not make any risky moves.

Right now all you wanted was for Saturday to come. She had been clear with you, and you knew she could just not show up at the bar tomorrow. But you were still excited about the possibility that she would. You wished she would. And you had to think back to see if you had ever been this excited to see a girl in the past few years.

When the day came you went to the bar without any expectations in order not to be disappointed if something happened. When you got upstairs Jordan greeted you with his usual cheer, and you started your evening with the usual cold beer before the start of another Celtics game.

"Ayo bro what's wrong with you?" Jordan asked an hour later, frowning. "You're acting weird as fuck."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You've been looking back like you're going to shoot the fuck out of this bitch and moving your leg this whole time. Look, you're doing it right now!" he pointed down.

You looked where he was pointing, and sure enough, you were moving your leg without realizing it. You also noticed that every so often you looked over your shoulder.

"First of all, I'm not going to shoot anything," you said, forcing yourself to stop your leg. "And... fuck, it's because of her."

"Her?" he raised both eyebrows. "Her who?"

"Fuck you mean her who?" You frowned.

“Ohhh! Ash?” he said, and let out a giggle.

“Aha.”

Jordan laughed and handed a ready-made drink to one of the customers near you.

“Right right,” he nodded. “Can I have your number?” he mimicked you in a silly voice. “Look, talking about Helen of Troy.”

You were two milliseconds away from turning around like the girl from the Exorcist, but you had enough self-control to turn your head like a normal person.

Ashley had just walked up the stairs, and she looked just as pretty as the last time you saw her, with her hair down, a white college sweater, and a grey scarf that still had traces of snow on it.

And as soon as she saw you, her face lit up with a smile, causing the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy.

“Uhhh you got her in your pocket bro, look at that smile!” Jordan said from behind you, close to your ear so Ashley couldn't hear. "Aight so hear me out, I'll give you a hand, you'll see."

You frowned.

"Wait what?" You turned to look at him, but he had already played dumb and gone on to serve another customer.

Ashley came to your side at that moment, taking the free seat to your right, just like last time.

"Hi Mason! Hi Jordan!" she greeted you both, but focused her attention on you.

"Sup," you greeted back, turning to her. "I'm glad you came."

"Yeah well, I finished all my homework early and also studied enough to be free today."

"Oh really? Free to see someone, maybe?" you raised your eyebrows and took a sip of your beer.

"Mmm, I don't know," she shrugged, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I was really in the mood for a drink on a Saturday."

You chuckled and nodded.

"Aight, you want a beer then? It's on me, and I insist."

"Yeah I'm cool with that!" she nodded.

"On my way!" Jordan said.

"Thanks bro," you said, then looked at Ashley. "So? How was torture week for you?"

The smile on Ashley's face faded, and her eyes wandered to an empty glass on the bar.

"I mean..." she cocked her head and made an awkward face. "Well, I think? I don't have too many hopes for myself, but I don't feel like I did a bad job either," she looked at you. "What about you?"

"Exhausting," you sighed. "But I feel like I'll pass everything with flying colors. Do you feel like you didn't study hard enough or what?"

"Something like that. Let's just say I got a little too confident."

Jordan came over with your beers and placed them in front of each of you. You both smiled at him in thanks.

"Why do I feel like that cocktail drinking story has something to do with it?" you asked with a raised eyebrow.

Ashley was about to drink from her beer when she burst out laughing, having to set the glass down on the table so she wouldn't spill it. You looked at her with a smile, gobsmacked by her cuteness.

“Hey!” she snapped between laughs. “That was just an hour!”

“But it was enough to distract you,” you said before sipping on your beer.

“Nah, I’m good at dividing up my schedule.”

“6 hours of drinking and another two for studying?”

She laughed again, and this time she gave you a small, friendly punch on the shoulder.

“No, silly. You’re really into my stories huh?”

“I spend a lot of time on Instagram, so I end up checking them all the time and accidentally,” you shrugged.

“Accidentally, I see,” she nodded slowly. “Same as that like, right?”

Your hand froze around the glass of beer, where you looked with a smile of being on the ropes.

“Yup, same as that like,” you looked into her eyes. "And yours? Was that accidental too or what?"

She gently shook her head, holding your gaze.

"Nope, that was completely on purpose."

A smile escaped you. Things were flowing smooth as butter. It was up to you not to screw up.

"So you did come here today to see someone huh?"

"Maybe," she brought a hand to a lock of her hair to play with it. "And you seemed to be waiting for someone today."

"You," you said, not really thinking about it beforehand, just a shot in the air.

"Oh really?" she raised both eyebrows, now curling her lock of hair. "But you always come here, not this day at this time?"

"Yeah, but the difference is that now I've been waiting all week for Saturday to come."

Ashley giggled and looked away, now playing with her fingers in her lap.

"To see me?" she asked, and looked at you again.

"To see you," you nodded.

"What if I didn't come?"

"Eventually you would," you shrugged. "Pure statistics. But the odds increase if you wanted to see me too."

Ashley was quiet for a moment, just like you had been when she brought up the subject of you liking her post, a half smile on her face and her gaze on her glass. She then shrugged.

"You got me, I guess," she said.

"It wasn't that hard either. Hey, do you want to get something to eat?" you asked, changing the subject.

"Like what?" she said, and took a long drink of her beer.

"I don't know, they make some pretty tasty stuff downstairs. Maybe something sweet?"

"Mmm, nutella waffles?"

"Oh hell yeah, and they make some amazing cookie sandwiches too."

“That’s a yes then!”

“You wanna go sit over there?” you nodded behind her, towards one of the tables in the corner.

“Sure, let’s go,” Ashley replied with a smile as you both stood up from the bar. 

As you passed, you glanced at Jordan, who was watching you with a mix of expectation and complicity. In response, he winked at you and discreetly dimmed the lights in the bar. The atmosphere changed instantly: the shadows lengthened, the warm lighting accentuated the textures of the brick walls and created an intimate space at the table you chose.

You owed that guy one.

The table in question was a cozy booth, with a brown leather corner sofa and high backs set against the brick wall. Ashley slid into the seat and sat right in the corner.

“I’ll go place the orders, wait here, will you?” you said, setting your glass of beer down next to hers.

Ashley just nodded with a cute smirk on her face, and then you hurried downstairs. You placed the order as quickly as you could, with a couple of milkshakes on top of the waffles and sandwiches, and then returned to her, sitting down to the side.

"I hope you like the lemon pie milkshakes, they're delicious," you said, arranging the plates and glasses on the table.

"I love lemon pie," she said, picking up one of the milkshakes to drink from the straw. "Did the stalking pay off or what?"

A laugh escaped you.

"Sweetheart, as much as I tried, I haven't been following you long enough to know that."

"Oh, you're calling me sweetheart now?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Uh... I'm sorry, does it bother you?"

Ashley then moved closer to you. It was really something very subtle, but you noticed it by the closeness of your thighs.

"It's cute, why would it bother me?" she said, holding your gaze.

You were closer than you'd ever been at that moment. It could happen, and you had a feeling she wanted it, but after looking at her lips a few times you decided not to push your luck too much.

"I don't know," you shrugged. "Some people find it uncomfortable, and I wouldn't want to make you feel that way."

She stayed quiet as she looked at you. You frowned in confusion.

"What?" you said.

"You're really cute, Mason," Ashley replied, in a lower tone. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you that."

The way you folded yourself into seven separate pieces was a bit hard to hide, but you were sure it had to have shown on your cheeks as they felt warm from the blush.

“I-I… ah…” you felt like an idiot getting stuck on your own words; your brain had short-circuited for a few seconds. “No. At least not here.”

Ashley placed a hand on your thigh, near your knee. A statue could be more alive than you at that moment.

“That’s a shame, because you really are.”

You once again tried to say something, but only a silly stutter came out of your mouth that ended in silence. It was your chance.

“Shall we eat?” she said, before you could lunge in and kiss her. She didn’t notice your intentions, so she didn’t have to have done it on purpose. Still, it was pretty inopportune.

“Ah… yeah,” you nodded, turning back to the plates and milkshakes. "Sure, sure."

There was silence between you as you began to eat, but not an awkward silence, rather a peaceful one, which made it clear that both you and she were comfortable with each other. Only after a couple of minutes passed did you resume the conversation, which this time was oriented towards anecdotes and interesting facts about your lives. Needless to say, you felt like you could talk to her about anything and she would be just as happy to listen to you, as you would to her.

But you needed to kiss her. You really, really needed to.

"Gosh those waffles are really crazy stuff," Ashley said with the milkshake in her hand, once you had finished eating.

"What about the cookie sandwiches?" you asked with a smile.

"I wasn't that big of a fan, but they were good too," she shrugged.

You chuckled.

"Fair enough, we can't all have excellent tastes."

Ashley laughed and nudged you slightly. You stared at her. Noticing this, she tilted her head and frowned.

"What?" she asked.

"You're so fucking cute, Ashley," you said, admiring every detail of her pretty face, dimly illuminated by the warm light of the bar's spherical lamps. "You really are."

That took her by surprise. She blinked several times, visibly stunned by such a sudden statement, but as she processed the information, her lips curved into a small smirk.

"You think so?" she asked in a low tone, and brought her hand back to your thigh, now closer to your crotch, awakening in you thoughts that were no longer so innocent.

"Yeah, I think so," you said, and put your right arm in front of her abdomen to grab her waist. You couldn't tell from the baggy clothes the weather forced you two to wear, but she had a small waist and a tummy that you found extremely sexy.

"So what are you waiting for?" She squeezed your thigh with her fingers.

"Waiting for what?" You pressed her closer, your faces now inches apart.

Ashley leaned in close to your ear.

"To take me downstairs to the bathroom and fuck me," she whispered, and pulled back to look you in the eyes again. "And kiss me, of course."

W-h-a-t?

You blinked a few times, confused by what you had just heard. Was she the same Ashley? Had you gotten distracted and she had switched with her evil twin? It wasn't like it bothered you, but it was such a drastic change that it seemed unreal.

"Wow," you said with a chuckle, and brought the hand on her waist up to her thigh to brush the side of your finger against her crotch. "In that order?"

Ashley moved her hand up and placed it on your bulge to give it a single, firm squeeze.

"As you prefer," she said, biting her lip as she looked down at yours.

And then you kissed her.

From the beginning, it was difficult for you to control yourself from making a scene in front of everyone's eyes, because her lips had a delicious pineapple flavor that drove you crazy and made you want to devour her like a maniac. For the moment, you had to settle for that slow, discreet kiss, like the one any couple shared at a bar.

Ashley was forced to remove her hand from your bulge, and you were forced to remove yours from near her crotch. Instead she left her hands still in her own lap and you just continued to squeeze her thigh with your hand. As the seconds passed your breathing became heavier, and by the way she shifted in her seat you knew that it was enough of kissing and it was time to move on to the fun part.

"To the bathroom downstairs then?" you asked against her lips.

"The one on the basement floor," she clarified. "There won't be anyone down there at this hour."

"Do you scream a lot or what?" you teased.

"Take me there and find out."

You smiled and took her hand before standing up. You both walked out of the stall and straight to the first floor, where Ashley stepped away from you.

"Let me go first," she said, steps away from the exit. "I wouldn't want us to be so brazen either."

"Aight go," you nodded.

Ashley walked out of the bar and headed down to the basement. You waited for about five minutes before heading in that same direction, leaving the bar to go left and down the stairs that led to the basement. Just like Ashley said, there were like four people down there counting the bartender, so it wouldn't be a problem.

Absolutely no one paid you any attention as you walked through the room. Good for you, because you were able to enter the ladies' room without any opposition. Inside it wasn't hard for you to guess where Ashley was: she was in the back stall, with her hand sticking out of the half-open door.

Rushing in there you found her waiting patiently for you, leaning against the wall with her other hand behind her back.

"You're late," Ashley joked with a mischievous smirk as you locked the bathroom door.

"I'll go if you want," you pointed with your thumb.

"Nuh-uh, come here," she said, and grabbed your face with both hands before crashing her lips against yours.

With no potential stares now, you two were free to let loose, your tongues now entering the equation just seconds into the kiss, which was becoming more and more wild and sloppy. Ashley lowered one hand to the side of your neck, and brought the other to your cock to squeeze and massage it over your pants. You, for your part, were met with a pair of firm, round buttocks as you lowered your hands and squeezed them. She let out a small moan against your lips, and brought her other hand down to unbutton your pants, unzipping them, and reaching into your boxers to cup your cock with her delicate fingers and slowly stroke it.

"You must be freezing from the weather," she murmured after moving a few inches away from your lips. "Maybe I can give you some warmth."

With that Ashley dropped to her knees in front of you and pulled your pants and boxers down to your ankles. With your cock released in front of her face, she placed wet kisses on the underside, moved down to your balls to lick them, and then back to your tip to catch it between her lips and suck on it.

"Fuck Ashley..." you gasped, bringing a hand to her silky brown hair to push it out of her face.

She gave your tip a couple of sucks and pulled you out to slowly jerk you off.

"Still cold?" Ashley asked. "Don't worry, I got you."

With that she placed her hands on your thighs and opened her mouth to take your cock inside her. Now her lips went further, slowly going millimeters past the middle of your shaft to come back up and start sucking you off. She made eye contact with you, which made your cheeks feel hot since until a few hours ago you only saw her as a giggly adorable princess, and now that cute princess was giving you a sloppy, sensual blowjob.

"Fuck that's perfect Ash," you moaned, watching as she pumped her head at a steady pace, slurping up the saliva she left behind and also using her tongue to lick the underside of your shaft.

"Warm enough?" Ashley asked after pulling you out, now kissing the sides of your cock while rubbing her fingers along the first few inches of it. "I still have a little magic trick."

She put her hands on your thighs and took your cock back into her mouth. This time, after a few sucks halfway down your shaft, her mouth went further and further until it reached your base, where her nose rested for a few long, fascinating seconds as your tip brushed the walls of her throat.

And yes, it was fucking warm. Overwhelmingly so, you dare say.

“Shit…” you moaned, letting your head fall back and bringing your hand to the back of Ashley’s neck.

A couple seconds later she released your cock with a couple of coughs and heavy gasps, and continued to jerk you off while wiping her spit-stained chin.

“Better?” she asked.

“Ashley… what the fuck was that,” you managed to say, now looking into her eyes. “The last thing I would think when I saw your face is that you give amazing blowjobs.”

“And I have a pretty tight pussy too, just so you know.”

You were officially going crazy.

“May I taste it?” you asked.

Ashley smiled and stood up, turned around and bent over with her hands braced against the wall of the stall. She then looked over her shoulder at you and looked down at your cock rubbing against her ass. You immediately got on your knees behind her, grabbed the hem of her sweatpants and pulled them down.

“Oh fuck,” was the only thing you could think to say. Her ass was a complete beauty: it was small, but the shape of her buttocks and how soft her skin looked made it look like a whole snack.

“You like it?” she asked, slowly swinging it from side to side.

"I have a way to answer that," you said, and placed both hands on either side of her hip before you began kissing every spot on her pretty ass, not stopping until both pale cheeks were covered in your saliva and your teeth marked on the fleshiest areas.

With your entrance already covered you wanted to move on to the main course as quickly as possible, so you grabbed her light blue panties—already with a wet spot in the middle—and pulled them down to her ankles along with her sweatpants, rolled around her feet. Her pussy was as pretty as her face, shaved, smooth, pink and shiny from how wet it was. You plunged your mouth in there without a second's thought.

"Mmmgh," Ashley moaned, pushing her hips back to bury your face between her ass cheeks, which you parted so you could easily taste her delicious, silky folds with your tongue.

The bathroom stall was soon filled with cute, low moans. You ate her pussy slowly at first, not wanting to look like a desperate fucking lunatic. But it was clear that wasn't going to last too long, not when her wet flesh was this delicious and her hips moved in such an adorable way as the pleasure built in her.

"Oh fuck I knew you'd be good with that fucking tongue," she gasped, her legs suffering from spontaneous tremors.

"You do?" you asked with an incredulous giggle, and squeezed her ass cheeks. "Apparently I was the only one with innocent intentions then."

"Don't get me wrong, me too," she looked over her shoulder at you, biting her lip. "But I also wanted you to eat my pussy really bad."

"Slutty behavior if you ask me," you said, and sank your mouth back into her pussy before she could protest.

Ashley moaned louder and pushed her hips back. Hard, to smother you with her ass. You contently let her do it at this point, more focused on licking between her folds and giving you a treat than your own breathing. This paid off a few seconds later, when the muscles in her thighs contracted and she burst into moans, grinding her ass into your face.

“Oh fuck!” she squealed under her breath, holding back from screaming louder. “Hurry up and fuck me for god’s sake!”

You stood up and bent over your pants bunched around your ankles to pull your wallet out of your pocket. Only to realize what a fucking problem there was: you hadn’t brought a fucking condom.

Were you fucking stupid or what?

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, eyeing the wallet.

Ashley turned to look at you with a scowl.

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t bring… well, you know.”

“A condom?” She raised an eyebrow. "Mason fuck the fucking condom fuck me already!"

Well, if things were that way you weren't going to refuse; you were too horny to think of the most responsible decision at the moment.

"Yeah you're damn right."

You dropped your wallet to the floor and focused entirely on her. Your left hand went to her waist, and with your right you grabbed your cock to bring it between her ass cheeks and rubbed the tip between her folds just a couple of times before pressing forward. You and Ashley moaned as you took the first few inches inside her.

"Oh fuck slow slow slow," she said, and you slowly took every inch of your cock inside her. "Oh yes that feels so fucking good!"

"You weren't lying about having a tight pussy, fuck," you panted already balls deep inside her, her pussy walls squeezing your cock.

"You like it huh?" she asked, looking into your eyes. "Then you better fuck it properly."

"Bet," you said, and began to rock your hips back and forth, patiently increasing the pace so as not to hurt her. Before long the thrusts became consistent, your cock going completely in and out of that smothering pussy and your smacks against her ass reverberating through the empty bathroom.

Ashley bent lower on her back, leaning with her forearms against the wall of the stall as you fucked her faster, clinging to her small waist and making her buttocks jiggle. The bubble of pleasure you were both locked in made you quickly forget you were in a public place, so it got to a point where you were making a downright shameless fuss.

Until you heard voices approaching. 

Ashley's eyes widened and she looked at you. You stopped, and your first instinct was to push her away from the wall, wrap an arm around her body and sit on the closed toilet lid (which thankfully didn't break). She was smart enough to understand what you wanted to do, so she grabbed her sweatpants and panties, pulled them off her ankles and pulled her feet up onto your knees at the exact moment two girls walked in talking.

"Yeah I don't know why he acts like that," one of the girls said, and you heard a sink turn on. "But then her fucking bitch of a best friend comes and says I'm the toxic one!"

You covered Ashley's mouth, and with her hands resting on each wall of the stall, she slowly went up and down on your cock, while you, with your free hand, rubbed her clit at the same discreet rhythm.

"Bitch cut it with that son of a bitch already!" said the other. "You've put up with too much shit from him lately."

"Fuck, should I?"

"Fuck you mean should I?! He spent a night with that hoe!"

If you didn't have Ashley moving up and down on your cock in that delicious way you would have laughed. But you did have to reinforce your fingers in her mouth, because she let out a moan that was luckily drowned out by the sound of the sink running.

"But he has a big dick!" The girl protested.

The other girl growled in frustration, and this time you did manage to let out a smile that almost turned into a chuckle.

"I can't stand you bitch, I swear to god."

The faucet turned off, and now you and Ashley were helpless if they stayed any longer and paid attention to where you were.

"I still want him to break up with me, not me him. I don't want any trouble with that damn bitch," the other girl said, and now her voice was fortunately heard further away.

"Are you chickening out or what?" the other girl replied, already out of the bathroom.

The conversation was no longer understandable to you, indicating that they finally left the bathroom. You took your hand off Ashley's mouth, and she was free to let out a relieved sigh followed by a moan.

"Fucking annoying bitches," she hissed, then slid her feet off your knees to replace them with her hands and bounced on your cock harder. "God that cock feels so good I wanna cry."

You brought your hands to her waist and reveled in the sight of your cock fully entering and exiting her pretty little body. Ashley bounced hard and fast, filling the bathroom with clapping sounds and inconspicuous moans. Her ass cheeks looked so pretty doing it that you couldn't help but squeeze both together and leave a spank on one, and she responded with a cute squeal.

"Turn around, I wanna kiss you," you panted with your hand on her lower back.

Ashley complied, and immediately rose off your cock to turn around and straddle you, her legs hanging over the sides of the toilet. You wrapped an arm around her waist, crashed your lips against hers and made her impale herself on your cock again.

With a moan against your lips she began to move on your cock as fast as she could, because the position wasn't exactly the most comfortable for her. For you, however, it was more attainable since you could simply plant your feet firmly on the floor and fuck her up and down. Ashley, relieved by this, wrapped her arms around your head and held onto your hair as you fucked her.

"Oh god I'm gonna cum so hard," she gasped into the kiss. "Fuck keep going!"

You brought your hands up to her ass to squeeze and grope it again before cranking up the engine. Ashley let her head fall back and held onto your neck with both hands, quickly being dragged into an orgasm that had her writhing and grinding her hips on top of you.

As she was riding out her climax you took the moment to kiss her pretty pale neck and under her chin, arms wrapped around her petite, quivering body to keep it pressed to yours at all times. Then, when you felt like you could continue, you used the strength in your legs to stand up with her carried. Ashley had a little scare, but still managed to hold on with her legs to your torso until you pressed her against the left wall of the stall, spread her legs wide, and with your hands behind her knees continued to hammer her pussy.

"You know I'd love to?" you asked, peppering the side of her neck with kisses.

"W-what?" she managed to reply despite her ragged breathing.

"Seeing your pretty princess face painted white," you said, and moved up to her jawline.

"Let me finish you off then, handsome," she panted with her hands on your back. "I could use a hot load for my skin."

You immediately pulled out of her pussy, lowered her, and she got on her knees in front of you, her head resting against the wall behind her. She caught your tip with her lips, sucked on it, and gripped her fingers to your shaft to stroke it at full speed. The eye contact was more intense than you expected, as Ashley's eyes went from being two pretty, shiny orbs to the eyes of a feline predator eager for its prey. If that wasn't enough, the girl was naughty enough to also grab your balls and give them such a good massage that you exploded without even warning.

Feeling a drop of your load inside her mouth, Ashley quickly pulled you out of it to masturbate you fiercely and receive every jet of cum on her pretty face. Every corner was covered in thick white liquid, in a perfect work of art that was deeply contrasted by the place you were in.

She moved her wrist slower as you stopped shooting jets, and finally took you back into her mouth to suck and clean every possible inch of your shaft.

"Fuck... so beautiful," you managed to say between gasps, admiring her face covered in cum all over.

"And if you behave from now on you can have this as many times as you want, baby," she said, and blew you a little kiss. "Pass me some toilet paper please."

You did so, and first helped her stand up before helping her wipe her face. Then you got dressed, and spent at least another five minutes just making out. It was she who pulled away from you with a small smile on her face.

"Do you want to spend the night with me?" she asked.

"Yes!" you replied embarrassingly quickly and nodded. "I'd love to."

Ashley giggled and opened the stall door.

"I'll go first, but first, your phone," she held out her hand.

"Huh, for what?"

"Just give it to me."

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and handed it to her already unlocked. She then typed for less than a minute and handed it back to you.

"Here, you earned it," she told you, winked at you and walked out of the stall and out of the bathroom.

You looked down, and what you saw was her contact with her damn number.

━•✦•━•✦•━━•✦•━•✦•━

Spren Notes: Consider this just a starter to welcome the best time of the year, hehehe. Btw, with Gowon there are already 2 of the 12 LOONA girls. Hope to be able to write all of them sooner or later. As always. Thanks for reading! MASTERLIST HERE!

[chimivx]

“…i want you, bless my soul…”

Four months.

You met him on your first day in your first class, your professor the agitated type, the kind that gave you piles of homework with every lesson. He sat beside you, slipping into his chair right before the syllabus slid onto the table in front of you.

Dark hair cut short in the back lived a little more free in the front, on the top, growing into a messier, curlier mop as the weeks drew by, on and on. Tall, broad, and most definitely strong as hell, he was gorgeous. There simply wasn’t any other word for it, he walked into class every week with his golden skin aglow no matter where the sun lived in the sky. You’d be lying if you said your stomach didn’t twist in knots watching his wide eyes scan the room, standing there near the doorway in a white t-shirt and dark blue denim jeans clasped to his waist with a leather belt.

What in the fucking Calvin Klein ad just walked in here?

Don’t sit next to me, don’t sit next to me, please don’t-

He wore Dior Sauvage, just enough of it to charm your eyes in his direction, the two of your glances meeting for only a few seconds, yet long enough to know that this was going to be a long semester.

After that first week, that first class, he showed up on time, sometimes even earlier than you, and sure enough he’d be in that seat and he’d offer you the tiniest smile while he pushed in his chair to let you pass behind him.

Did he own any clothes that fit?

It felt like every week he’d have on a new shirt that clung to him like seran wrap, every little chiseled sculpted by Michaelangelo notch in his body, his chest, completely and utterly visible. As if he didn’t know it, more than enough time in class he’d spend with his hands behind his head, his biceps tightening in his sleeves, bulging beneath the fabric that you waited to see rip.

Too often you’d have to tear your eyes away, too lost in wonder as to what kind of marvel sat beside you. Six foot something, perfectly built, not only did his appearance alone catch you off guard, but his ability to be so gentle. A smiley, sappy giant full of tooth rotting sweetness. Each raise of his hand, how he toyed with his pen between his firm fingers, the way he’d listen to other people speak — his eyebrows pulling up in the center, his eyes widening with wonder. He’d keep to his space, never once invading yours. Respectful, he knew to say hello, goodbye, would ask you quiet questions, like what page number you were on, and he’d give you thanks into oblivion.

It wasn’t until a month or so had passed that you realized it. One morning you stood in front of the mirror for too long, put a little too much effort into your makeup, into your hair. Spritzing a bottle of perfume to your wrist that you saved for special occasions, when the glass tapped back onto the shelf and you dabbed your wrists together, you gasped.

Damn.

Swapping the lacey sweater for something more casual, you know, for class, you pulled half of your hair up and back, letting some of it hang forward, praying to anyone who’d help that it didn’t look like you woke up before your alarm to get ready for a class you half cared about.

He noticed.

He sat down, walking in a few minutes after you, and his eyes lingered in your direction. Not that you could tell, nor were you paying attention, you were sitting backward in your chair with your nose in your phone. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t good at being nonchalant like you’d been for nearly two months now.

Besides, it didn’t work. He didn’t say a word the entire class, only his hello and his goodbye.

It didn’t upset you. That’s what you told yourself, the lies you fed your brain to pretend to feel better. It didn’t upset you, he was a boy in a class you didn’t see anywhere else on campus. He probably had a girlfriend. Look at him, listen to him, he definitely has a girlfriend.

By the next class you were back to the usual, the snoozed my alarm twice before getting up in a rush, a hoodie and baggy jeans. Hair thrown up, makeup minimal, you accepted your fate.

You weren’t expecting him to be in the room first, you’ve narrowed down his time frame of entry, typically within ten minutes of the lecture starting depending on when you’d arrive. He was five minutes too early. Giving him the tightest smile, you shimmied behind his chair and mimicked his greeting, shoving yourself into your seat, not prepared for fifteen minutes of silence with him beside you.

Nose in phone, nose in phone.

It was all you could do to keep from gawking, for some reason he was fresher than normal. Black t-shirt, denim jacket on the back of his chair, silver jewelry hanging off of him. He wore a different cologne, one you couldn’t pick out, but god it was delicious you wanted to lick it straight off his neck. He definitely sprayed it to his wrists too, typical, you could lick it off of him there too, why not. Maybe even his chest. No- anything beneath that shirt that should be squeezing the air out of his lungs was lethal, how was every muscle visible? How could he walk around like that, he had to know that-

“Did you do the homework?”

Great.

You didn’t dress yourself up to keep the giddy high school level crush on the DL, but the way you jumped at his words and your cheeks warmed definitely helped. And, yes, you were staring.

“I, uh, yeah, I did.”

If he noticed anything, he didn’t show it.

“Mind if I see it to make sure I got it right? You’re better at this than I am.”

Juvenile, all of it, from the way he checked his answers to the way he slid your notebook back over to you with a shake of his head. Nothing else was shared, the class had begun and he focused on your irritating professor who assigned similar homework for the third week in a row.

Holding onto the way he spoke to you, the soft tone, the warmth in his eyes, the subtle graveliness he forced but then got rid of when he answered questions aloud, you truly felt seventeen years old all over again.

He asked you a question.

He talked to you.

Did he spend more time on how he looked for you?

No, it’s for his girlfriend. The one he definitely has.

The girlfriend that he-

“Whatever perfume you had on last week… I liked it.”

He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t wait around for you to say anything. He scooped his books into his arms, and he walked out of the classroom, leaving you in absolute shambles. Nerves lived within you for a week, so many nights spent lying awake thinking about him, what he said to you, what you were going to do. If you wear the perfume again you’re setting yourself up for exposure, you may as well just tell him you have a crush on him to his face. But, then again, if you didn’t wear it, you’d lose his interest. He wouldn’t think you had an interest in him, and what if he told you that because he does have an interest in you?

Oh god.

What if he knows?

You wore the perfume. One spritz of it over your heart before you left your room, enough that he’d just be able to tell if he paid as much attention as he suddenly seemed to be.

Early again, beating you to a class you tried to get to even earlier today, you did not miss the small smile that pulled at his lips as you slipped behind his chair. It was the only thing shared all class, a smile somewhere in between lessons when he caught your eye. He had that same cologne on, the one from last week, the one that had you envisioning what it’d be like to have your tongue dragging all over his body, it was hard to not look at him.

Oh, he definitely knew.

And so it began.

For another month, perfume and cologne alike, worn every class, you started to share more than smiles. He’d lean your way for questions and answers, would ask about the homework, the assignments, sometimes when he didn’t even need it, asking for an answer he already had scribbled on his paper. Fighting the nerves, the way your belly filled with butterflies and did cartwheels within you, you started to share more than just classroom talk. While you worked you chatted, you learned where he was from, where he came from, where you came from and why you both were here.

He was funny.

Funny in the way he didn’t know he was funny, oftentimes asking you what he did to make you laugh like that. You’d cover your mouth and pray the giggles away, unable to tell him how adorable he really was.

He filled every shoe you profiled him with. Kind, sweet, funny, gentle giant.

Chiseled chest his cologne, the one you loved, radiated from.

But you didn’t figure that out until the following month.

Month four.

Four months was all it took, and he was yours.

Class whispers turned into coffee dates. Coffee dates turned into homework dates, which turned into dinner dates.

By the end of the third you were wrapped in his sheets, wrapped in him, cologne on your tongue and lips pressed to his, whispering confessions of how long you liked each other but both felt too nervous to say anything. Reveling in pride, that you weren’t as obvious as you thought yourself to be, his sparkling grin overtook his face and he whispered two words that cradled your heart.

“I knew.”

[undead-discourse]

It’s the alienation that does it for me, and that doesn’t ever go away. Even among other aroace people who are sex/romance-favorable, even when we’re discussing a character who’s like us both in canon, I still don’t get to feel included because I am aroace and sex/romance-repulsed. That sense of being alone in a room doesn’t go away, even and especially when you’re in as close company as you could possibly ever get. We are still too Weird even among the Weirdest fandoms known for accepting people no matter how Weird they are, even when they’re trying as hard as they can to give a space to aroace people. We’re just that incompatible with the rest of the world. We don’t get to feel included in larger society, we don’t get to feel included in niche internet communities, and we even still don’t get to feel included in spaces revolving around being aroace. We don’t even get any escapism. I think feeling like a spectator is just part of it.

“Good representation” isn’t the key to feeling seen or included in fandom spaces for people like me. Other people have gotten to see themselves in Alastor, portray what their own relationships might look like, feel seen or heard or bond with other people similar to them they might’ve thought just didn’t exist, just like I do right now. Other people got to learn they aren’t alone, even if those communities are so so so niche, there is a community there for them— people out there who not only are just like they are, but who enjoys similar things to them and they can get along really well with. They aren’t entirely alone anymore, and they get to enjoy their own experiences through Alastor. Which I greatly respect, that’s beautiful and I’m happy for them. But I know I will never get to experience that the way they do, and it is heartbreaking to watch.

I learned that not only will good aroace representation never give me that sense of belonging or community like everyone else gets to experience, that there isn’t a magic little character that’ll fix everything and give me that connection to other people, but I’ve also learned that fandom spaces are just inherently not designed to include me, even and especially when there is that aroace character in the mix. I really am going into the kitchen and being shocked when there is food there. I will never feel like more than a spectator or an outsider listening in on a conversation I have no right being a part of, standing on the outside of people laughing and enjoying themselves and considering if I should just leave yet and if anyone would really notice, and I shouldn’t get my hopes up too high just because he’s written to be like me. Alastor (or anyone else for that matter) being aroace in canon won’t bring into existence a community that just doesn’t exist. I’m looking for a unicorn trying to feel included, even in a space as catered to me as I could possibly ever get. Being aroace and feeling like an alien are the same thing to me. And no matter how long I keep searching and searching and searching and finding nothing, it will never take me off of a planet I do not belong to. That’s what I’ve gotten out of Alastor being aroace.

It’s crazy how many people just don’t understand why a lot of aro and or ace people don’t like that Alaster gets shipped. It’s not that hard to understand we don’t have a lot to let ourselves lose. I mean can you name 10 asexual characters? 5? Can you name two aro characters. There’s the guy from Archie who they made have a sex scene in a movie version. There’s a few books. I think a background character in Heartstopper? Do you see the theme here??? You’re all queer people, do you not get it? How it feels to have nothing? Is it so wrong to be upset that there’s finally an outwardly aroace person in popular media and instead of people embracing that they’re fighting on the internet about why it’s ok to ignore it? And I will never in my fucking life have anything against the people who are aro and or ace and portray him in THEIR experiences, even if it is a romance or sex favorable experience, but it is obvious that way too many of you guys are allo and it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t even like him as a character that much, he isn’t even made by an aroace artist. The show isn’t even that fucking good, I just want to keep someone like me for once in my life. If there were a million other aroace characters I wouldn’t care, but it just hurts seeing erasure coming from my own community. It just sucks, man, I don’t know. It just sucks

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (4 - The Assistant)

Chapter Summary: Wanda is worried that you're being distant and unhappy. She tries to get to the bottom of it without using her powers, but ends up discovering something else entirely. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.1k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: Mentions of smut

A/N: Because it's my birthday today, you guys are getting another chapter tonight. // More author's notes here.

You’ve been awfully quiet since the Harvest Festival. Wanda can feel it—the suspicion you’re ruminating on—simmering just beneath the surface. It gets under her skin, that urge to use her magic, to just pull the truth out of you. She’s done it before. She could do it again.

But she doesn’t.

Wanda stays put, waiting for you to crack, for something to slip. Her fingers itch to do what’s easy, but she forces herself to stop. Instead, she gives you space. If she can’t fix this, if she can’t make you talk, the least she can do is give you room to figure it out on your own. It’s not much, but it’s all she’s got. And for her, holding back like this is harder than anything else—not when she’s already gone to such lengths for your happiness together.

Eventually, Wanda reaches her breaking point. She’s on the verge of using her powers on you again when, one morning, she wakes to find her panties slipped down to her ankles and your head nestled between her thighs. ​​Judging by the way her body feels and the shiver that runs through her, you’ve been at it for a while. Her breath hitches as the pleasure builds higher and higher, and when it crests, she comes with a soft cry, her fingers tangling tightly in your hair. You rise up to kiss her sweetly, and she hums softly against your mouth, tasting herself there.

“Good morning,” you murmur, nuzzling her cheek and down the length of her neck. Her skin is soft and faintly flushed, and you breathe in the faint scent of her—sweet, comforting, intoxicating.

Wanda’s chest rises and falls, her breaths still uneven. She manages a veiled, almost dazed response. “Good morning, indeed.”

You kiss her temple before sitting up slightly, meeting her eyes. Even though you’ve just woken her up with an orgasm and you're staying close, affectionate even, there’s something distant in your eyes—something that only appeared after the festival.

“Can I return the favor?” she asks, her voice still shaky, hoping making you feel good will make her feel better about this whole thing.

You shake your head slightly, “No, you don't have to.”

“But I want to,” she insists softly, reaching out to caress your jaw lovingly.

You turn your head slightly and press a kiss against her palm. “It might be a while before I get there, Wanda. I just took an Adderall,” you say.

Wanda’s disappointed but she nods slowly, trying not to read too much into you calling her Wanda instead of the affectionate nicknames you usually have for her.

“I gotta wake the kids,” you say, slipping out of bed. “Bath time, then school prep.”

You leave the room, your footsteps fading as Wanda lies back, wrapped in the unsatisfying afterglow.

–

When you're with the twins, you're back to your usual, goofy self.

Wanda watches you with a soft smile as you take care of the kids—keeping them entertained enough to get them bathed, dressed, and making sure they finish their oatmeal. She was right—she always knew you’d make a great mother. Now, she’s living in a world where it’s undeniable. You handle everything with such ease, like you were meant for this.

She doesn’t even have to do much beyond cooking and keeping the house tidy. Even with your busy work schedule, you still manage to help out on the weekends and always take care of the dishes after dinner.

This life, the simplicity of it, is everything she’s ever wanted. A home, a family—with you at the center of it all.

It certainly doesn't hurt that you look incredibly appealing in the loose white, open button-down shirt you're wearing, neatly tucked into navy slacks that hug your hips so perfectly. Wanda can't help but wonder if it's even fair for you to wear that to work, considering how good it looks on you.

“Hey, boys, before we head out, what do we say to Mama?” you call out, rounding up Billy and Tommy with their backpacks slung over their shoulders.

“Bye, Mama!” they chorus, but you give them a pointed look.

“Uh, and?” you prompt, eyebrows raised.

The twins exchange a quick glance before racing over to Wanda, each planting a sloppy, hurried kiss on her cheek. 

As they attempt to sprint away, Wanda wraps her arms around them, pulling them back into a longer embrace. “Hold on, not so fast,” she murmurs, holding them close. 

The boys giggle and hug her back. “Love you, Mama,” they say.

“Love you more,” Wanda replies, her heart swelling as she finally lets them go. 

They dash for the car, their feet barely touching the ground in their excitement. Wanda then turns to you, expecting a quick goodbye kiss, but you're already by the door, keys in hand.

“I might be late tonight, got some extra work. Don't wait up, okay?” you call over your shoulder.

Her smile falters, and her heart tightens painfully in her chest. 

You've never left without asking for a goodbye kiss before.

“Okay, love. Be safe,” she says. 

Although she’s vigilant in not using her powers on you this time,  it doesn't mean she's out of ways to find out what's going on with you.

–

When Agnes first started trying to befriend her, Wanda wasn’t exactly welcoming. Agnes was never invited—she always invited herself over. Wanda didn’t bring over homemade dishes like most neighbors; instead, it was always Agnes showing up with pies or other sweets for no particular reason. Over time, the guilt of constantly being on the receiving end of Agnes’s attention and gifts nudged Wanda into softening, eventually opening up enough to call her a friend, even if it felt strange at first.

Wanda can count on one hand the people she’s considered her friend in her lifetime. And that already includes you. Aside from you (though you didn’t like her very much at first, in fact, you distrusted her for months before things started to develop in a positive direction), she only really felt cared for by Clint, Steve, and Vision.

Pietro was her best friend. And even after you came into her life, she missed his presence, the way he was protective but also her greatest critic. The way he called her out on her bullshit, and the way he supported her ambitions and motivations, even if they were morally ambiguous just to keep her safe. That Pietro-shaped hole was never filled by anyone, not even you. You just happened to occupy a bigger area in her heart that losing Pietro didn’t hurt as much as it did before you.

So, she’s surprised at how her connection with Agnes has grown into something resembling friendship—a relationship that none of her old friends, or you, would ever approve of. Agnes is everything her other friends were not. She’s not kind or selfless, doesn’t share that good-hearted nature that Wanda’s always been drawn to.

And that's exactly how Wanda ends up riding shotgun in Agnes’s car, tailing you as you drop off the twins and head to work.

Wanda nervously glances over at her friend. “Are you sure she won't notice us?” she asks, biting her lower lip.

Agnes smirks, eyes on the road. “Relax, sweetheart. I know what I'm doing. She won't have a clue.”

Wanda fiddles with the edge of her sleeve. “I just... I've never done anything like this before,” she says.

“There’s always a first for everything,” Agnes winks at her. “Though I never pegged you for the snooping type. Imagine my surprise when you asked me for help. I thought you were very…goody-goody.”

Wanda sighs. “I am. It's just—” She hesitates, almost saying more than she should. “Back home, we always shared our locations on our phones. We always knew where the other was.”

Agnes wonders where home is, because Wanda doesn’t seem to be referring to Westview. 

“Really? Sounds a bit... invasive,” Agnes snarks. “Though, I can't say I’d blame you for wanting to keep your wife on a short leash.”

Wanda furrows her brow. “What do you mean?”

Agnes gives a dismissive roll of her eyes. “Come on, Y/N is gorgeous. You must see that.”

Wanda is about to launch into a whole rant about how much she sees it, how fully aware she is that everyone else sees it too, when your car finally pulls up to the school's driveway. She watches as you step out to walk the twins to the entrance. You give the boys a quick hug before they run inside. 

But as soon as you turn back toward the car, heading off to work, Wanda tenses up again.

“She might notice us,” Wanda whispers, sinking lower in her seat.

Agnes chuckles. “Trust me, with all these cars around, we're just another pair of morning commuters.”

“I just don't want her to think I don't trust her.”

“Then why are we following her?” Agnes asks pointedly.

Wanda looks down at her hands. “Because something's changed. And I need to know why.”

Agnes wonders why Wanda won't just ask you directly what's wrong. Though something tells her that this isn't a typical marriage issue. Maybe if she plays her cards right, she might get Wanda to open up just a little bit more—enough to fully let her in.

“You know,” Agnes continues carefully, “if something's bothering you, talking about it might help.”

“It's just... I feel like she's slipping away from me,” Wanda murmurs. She knows she can't confide in anyone about this—especially not Agnes—but she feels like she might burst from all the secrets she's been keeping lately.

Agnes glances sideways at her. “People don't just drift for no reason. Any idea what's causing it?”

Wanda shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “Work has been... demanding lately.”

“Has it?” Agnes presses. “Or is there something else?”

Wanda swallows hard. “I don't know. Sometimes I think she might've figured out that—” She cuts herself off, biting her lip.

Hook, line, and sinker, Agnes thinks to herself. Just a little bit more.

“Figured out what?” Agnes asks, her tone deceptively casual.

“Nothing,” Wanda says quickly. “Just that maybe she's unhappy.”

Agnes bites the inside of her cheek, her smile faltering for a split second. Inside, she’s bristling. It’s maddening how slippery Wanda can be, how carefully she guards her words. The effort it takes to keep up the charade, to play the concerned, clueless neighbor, is starting to wear thin.

But she didn’t get this far just to get this far. 

“Oh, Wanda, if she’s unhappy, maybe there’s something I can do. You know, a friendly ear can work wonders,” Agnes suggests through gritted teeth.

“I appreciate that, but it's personal,” Wanda replies, her voice tight.

Agnes sighs theatrically. “Fine, keep your secrets. But remember, I'm a good listener.” 

Another time then. She is nothing if not patient.

Before Wanda can respond, she spots your car turning into the parking lot of your office building. “There she is,” she says.

They watch as you park and step out, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. You pause for a moment, looking around as if sensing something, then head inside.

Wanda falls back into her seat with a defeated sigh. “She seems... normal.”

Agnes arches an eyebrow. “Isn't that a good thing?”

“I suppose,” Wanda murmurs, though her eyes remain fixed on the entrance where you just disappeared.

Agnes impatiently taps her fingers on the steering wheel. “So, where to now? The salon? Or maybe you want to grab a Margarita to go with lunch?”

Wanda doesn't respond, still staring at the building's entrance. 

“Wanda?” 

At that, Wanda suddenly snaps out of her reverie and unbuckles her seatbelt. Agnes does the same, prompted by Wanda’s sudden haste. 

“What are you doing? You're not going to make a scene, are you?” Agnes.

“I think there might be someone who can give me answers,” Wanda mumbles distractedly.

“And who might that be?”

“Her.”

Agnes follows Wanda’s line of sight and spots Geraldine, your assistant, emerging from the building. Geraldine, who is still wearing the same clothes from when Wanda first met her, starts walking down the sidewalk, oblivious to the two women watching her every move.

“Geraldine?” Agnes lets out a soft, incredulous scoff. “And what do you think she’s going to tell you?”

Wanda is already reaching for the door handle. “She works with her every day. If anyone knows what's going on, it's her.”

“What? But Wanda, that’s—”

But Wanda is out of the car before Agnes can finish, her focus entirely on your unsuspecting assistant. 

Agnes groans inwardly as she watches Wanda’s purposeful strides. “Fine,” she mutters under her breath, her talon-like fingernails scratching the leather cover of her steering wheel. “I’ll let you be this time. But all roads lead to me, Wanda, darling.” Despite her curiosity, she doesn’t stick around. She shifts into reverse, pulls onto the main street, and speeds off.

Wanda steps right into Geraldine's path, causing the other woman to halt abruptly to avoid a collision. Geraldine blinks in surprise but quickly recovers with a warm smile. “Oh! Wanda, hi! Didn't expect to see you here. Are you looking for Y/N? I can take you up to her office if you'd—”

“Hi,” Wanda says, giving a short wave that's more of a hand signal to stop her from talking. “Uh, Geraldine, right? Actually, I was hoping to talk to you.”

Geraldine’s smile dims only a bit. “M-Me?”

–

Wanda doesn’t have to put in much effort to get Geraldine alone for sandwiches at a nearby deli. In truth, it’s more like she tags along after Geraldine casually mentions that you’d be expecting your lunch at your desk within the hour. Though you’re known for being a patient boss—and Geraldine never misses an opportunity to sing your praises, much to Wanda’s irritation—Geraldine is firm about her own punctuality. She cuts her lunch breaks to a strict thirty minutes, ensuring she has time to deliver your meal early.

That doesn’t leave Wanda much time to extract the answers she’s after, but she’s determined to make the most of it.

Still, it’s not in her nature to jump straight to the point. Skipping the pleasantries feels too abrupt, too conspicuous.

“How are you doing?” Wanda asks, trying to match Geraldine’s upbeat energy. It comes out more like a squeak than the breezy tone she was going for. She takes a small sip of her drink before adding, “Good?”

Geraldine’s smile is sunny as ever. “Oh, it got pretty hectic lately at work, as I’m sure you know. But I'm good. How about you?”

Wanda stirs her tea, watching the leaves swirl. “Doing alright. Keeping busy with the boys.”

“They must be growing like weeds,” Geraldine says warmly.

Wanda forces a small smile. “Yeah, they keep us on our toes.” She had hoped to stretch out the introductions, build some rapport first, but her mind is frustratingly blank when it comes to small talk. Conversation has never been her strong suit.

Taking a deep breath, she prepares to dive right into the real purpose of this meeting. “Has everything been okay at work? With Y/N, I mean,” she says. 

Geraldine gives it a thought or two, before answering, “As far as I know. She's been a bit more focused lately, but that's just the board pushing those quarterly quotas.”

“Quotas?”

“Yeah, they're really piling on the pressure this quarter. But you know her—she handles it like a champ,” Geraldine says with a dismissive shrug. “I've been making sure she eats well, though. Only the most nutritious lunches to keep her going.”

“That's thoughtful of you,” Wanda murmurs. Her fingers tighten imperceptibly around her cup, the way Geraldine speaks about you striking a nerve she doesn’t fully understand. Geraldine pretends not to notice anything, just as she’s supposed to.

“You know,” Geraldine says after a beat, “when she’s not working, her mind is always on you and the twins.”

“She talks about us?”

“Absolutely,” Geraldine continues enthusiastically. “Just yesterday, she was showing me Tommy's drawings and Billy's latest test papers. You have a beautiful family, Wanda. Your boys are something special. I can only hope to raise my own kids as well as you do someday.”

“They are,” Wanda agrees, momentarily forgetting about her worries about you. Hearing about the twins always lifts her spirits.

Geraldine sighs happily and takes a bite of her Reuben.

“I'm a twin myself,” Wanda says quietly. “I had a brother. His name was... Pietro.”

“He was killed by Ultron, wasn’t he?”

Wanda doesn’t react right away. The words sink in slowly, like quicksand pulling her under.

“W-What did you say?” Her voice is quiet but carries a dangerous tremor, like a storm cloud about to burst.

Geraldine blinks slowly. “I... I don't know why I said that,” she stammers. 

Wanda's voice takes on a dangerous edge. “How do you know about Ultron?”

“I-I don’t know,” Geraldine insists. “It just came out.”

Wanda slowly tilts her head to the side, her eyes growing cold as it narrows on Geraldine. “Who are you?”

It’s devoid of any warmth—only suspicion and a seething edge that makes Geraldine recoil slightly.

“I'm—” Geraldine stammers, her voice catching. She looks around the shop, desperate for a way out. But there’s no one. The staff who had been behind the counter this whole time is suddenly nowhere to be found. “Wanda, I swear, I don't know. I didn't mean—”

“I think you should leave,” Wanda says finally. The tone of her voice carries the warning itself.

Geraldine stares at her, wide-eyed and trembling. “Wanda, please—”

“Leave.”

In the next second, Geraldine—or rather, Monica—learns the hard way that it’s not a suggestion; it’s a command.

–

“W-Wait,” Darcy stammers, her nose practically touching the television screen from how close she’s peering at it. “Where did Monica go?”

“I think it glitched or something,” Jimmy suggests, peering over her shoulder. 

“That doesn't make sense,” Darcy mutters, frantically rewinding the footage. “She was just there.”

They both stare at the screen showing Wanda sitting alone in the deli, sipping her tea like nothing happened. Darcy wants to bang her head against the monitor. It's the first time any of the characters in Wanda's show has referenced a real-world event, and now they're having technical difficulties? Unbelievable.

Before they can process what's happening, a commotion erupts outside the tent. 

One of Hayward’s envoys bursts in, breathless and wide-eyed. “You guys need to see this!”

Darcy and Jimmy exchange a quick, worried glance before rushing out. Whatever just happened to Monica can't be good, and the situation seems to be spiraling out of control—fast.

[fireboltposts]

"Say Please"

• You were sitting on the couch in Chan's studio, eyeing him occasionally as he was lost in editing the songs for their upcoming album, not having spoken a single word for the past hour .

• When he started lightly humming a random melody, that's when you knew he was a little bit available and probably very happy with how the editing turned out.

• He turned his chair to face you and gave you a sweet smile, flashing his dimple.

• "What's up ? You okay there baby girl ?", he asked, turning back to his laptop again while clicking something on it.

• "Can I get a hug Channie ?", you pouted, while making puppy dog eyes at him.

• He turned his chair back towards you, with one eyebrow raised, his serious demeanor now replaced with a playful smirk.

• "Say please", a teasing smile now tugging at his lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief, expecting you to clearly get shy or roll your eyes at him.

• You looked at him with both eyebrows raised slightly. Moments and words like these still made you shy and surprised at how flirty he could really be, but today you were having none of his games.

• So you sighed and decided to take matters into your own hands today, suddenly feeling a surge of boldness.

• You stood up and walked towards him, your movements confident and deliberate, your eyes never leaving his as if you were quietly challenging him.

• Chan leaned back slightly in his chair, his smirk faltering and suddenly feeling flustered, his flirty demeanor from a second ago, now completely replaced with shyness and anticipation as you came closer. "Wait, what are you".

• You came and stood in between his legs which were already parted and you leaned down, your face mere inches away from that of his now. Your thumb brushed his lower lip, gently tracing it as you tilted your head slightly, your eye contact still intact, and you whispered, your voice soft yet confident and sultry, "please".

• For a moment, the room was dead silent except for the muffled sounds of an upbeat song coming from the practice room beside his studio. His dark brown eyes bore into yours, searching for any trace of hesitation or teasing. But all he saw was your confidence, and it completely threw him off balance.

• His lips parted slightly, as if to say something, but no words came out. A faint blush spread across his cheeks, and his usual calm, composed demeanor seemed to crumble under your gaze.

• "Oh my goodness, what is she doing ? No no no I cannot with this, I think my heart just stopped" , he kept thinking, his eyes still wide open in shock and surprise.

• He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, but his voice came out slightly shaky. "I, uh... I guess... you really wanted that hug, huh?"

• You smirked, stepping back slightly but not breaking eye contact. "Is that a yes or a no then, Christopher?"

• The way you said his full name made his stomach do flips. Without another word, he stood up, towering over you slightly as he closed the distance. In one swift motion, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. His hands rested securely on your lower back, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

• "You win, okay ? But don’t think I’m letting you tease me like that without consequences", he murmured into your ear, his voice low.

• You laughed softly. "Ooh what consequences are we talking about Chris ? What are you going to do to me huh ?", you asked, still hugging him tightly as you breathed in his manly cologne. "God, he smells so good", you thought, inhaling more of his scent.

• He smirked, leaning in close so his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, "You’ll find out soon enough Y/Nie", his grip tightening as if trying to pull you even closer, trying to fill any possible space between you.

• You couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine as he pulled away, his teasing smirk firmly back in place. But as he sat back in his chair, the flush on his face betrayed just how much you had affected him.

• She’s going to be the death of me, my God, I still can't get over her touch on my lips, he thought, as he shyly turned towards the screen, now with a water bottle in hand, your gesture clearly leaving his throat dry.

A/N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you did. You can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[hischierhoney]

I Know Places

Jack Hughes x actress!reader // masterlist

title & inspo from I Know Places by Taylor Swift. written for the Eras Tour fic challenge! thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston for putting this on!

Summary: When the press catches Jack leaving your apartment, things seem set to crumble. But Jack has different ideas. 4.2k words

Warnings: mentions of press/pressure from the media, some mild angst but it’s fixed by the end!!

It’s past 2am when you stumble your way into your New York City townhouse, eyes bleary and tired, limbs even more so. The lights are off, besides the one in the hallway, and you don’t bother to turn any of them on. You just shuck off your jacket and shoes, shuffle your way down the hallway, up the stairs and straight into your bedroom. There’s one thought in your brain, and it’s bed. Warm, cozy, soft, full of blankets and pillows and a man-

You nearly scream at the sight, the gentle slope of shoulders under your fluffy comforter. You press your hand to your racing heart as it all comes flooding back. You, on a layover between Los Angeles and New York, stuck in an airport for longer than planned, on the phone with your boyfriend Jack Hughes.

Jack, who’d promised to pick you up from the airport until your flight got delayed. Jack, who has morning skate at 7am and needs his sleep. Jack, who, in a moment of sleep deprived, airport lounge tequila induced delirium, you had told about the key you keep in a potted plant, and suggested that he let himself in. Suggested he crawl into your bed and fall asleep. Just in the interest of sleeping next to him, of maybe having a couple moments with him in the morning.

You don’t get much time with him. Not nearly as much as you’d both like, at least. The two of you are too busy, too full of your own obligations, with his job and your job. Star hockey player and America’s sweetheart actress- it’s like a pairing from one of those Hallmark movies, the ones with perfect houses draped in fake snow that look like they’d smell like warm cookies. Except this is real. And he’s here.

He looks peaceful, you think, as you pad across the room to be closer. His cheek is smooshed against the pillow, on his stomach on the bed, laying in a spread eagle position that’s going to leave it difficult for you to find any space. His lips are parted slightly, soft breaths puffing out between them. Jack sleeps like the dead, you’ve found, from the now many times you’ve slept in the same bed. He says he’s trained himself into it, with hockey and all. You’ve witnessed his pregame naps, watched him fall asleep in seconds flat. It’s impressive.

You make your way to the bathroom, doing what little you can muster of your nightly routine. When your eyes start to close on their own accord, you shuffle your way back to the bed, in your pajamas now, and study the scene. How best to handle the boy in your bed, how to fit yourself against his body so that you can finally fall asleep like you’ve been aching to do.

Before you get the chance, there’s the shrill sound of a phone alarm, and Jack sits bolt straight up in bed. You stumble over your own feet, hand over your heart again, breath stolen from your lungs. Jack scrambles for his phone. It’s 2:30 am.

He’s rubbing at his eyes when he scans the room and finds you. Then he mirrors your position, eyes wide, hand over his heart.

“Why th’ fuck are you already here?” He mumbles out.

You choke on a laugh. It’s a hell of a greeting. “What?”

He groans. “Set an alarm. T‘go pick you up.”

You blink at him, half his face illuminated in the pale moonlight that spills in through your window. There’s a soft breeze that ruffles his hair and makes him shiver- he’s left the window open slightly, the way you like to sleep. Goosebumps raise on his bare skin. You tear your eyes away.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, bewildered. “I told you to just go to sleep.”

“Yeah, but. I set an alarm,” he repeats. He digs the heel of his palm into his cheek, his lips pulled into a pout. “For 12:30. So I could pick you up.”

You cock your head. “Well, it’s 2:30, so I think you set the wrong alarm.”

He groans loudly, brows furrowed, and then lets out some string of gibberish. He checks his phone again, then sets it down on the nightstand. You watch with curiosity as he flops back down onto the bed, on his back this time, blankets pooling around his waist. He’s bare from the waist up. Not for the first time, you have the urge to press yourself against every inch of his skin.

He seems so untouchable, here. Like in this room, he’s only yours. It’s a heady feeling, to watch him sigh and pout about missing his chance to pick you up from the airport. It’s private, normal, domestic. So few things in your life fit any of those descriptors. It tugs at your heartstrings.

“C’mere,” he calls out, spreading his arms across the mattress again. “Come cuddle.”

You don’t argue. Sleep tugs at your bones the second your head hits the pillow. He tugs at you until you’re plastered against him, the heat of his sleep warm body spreading over you. When he ducks his head to kiss the crown of yours, you sigh happily.

“How was th’ flight?” He asks, his voice still laden with sleep.

“Fine,” you mumble. You’re not really in the mood to talk about it. “Missed you.”

He laughs lightly, his chest rumbling with it under your head. “Missed you more.”

You feel his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up towards his. You blink through your exhaustion to meet his gaze, and you sigh happily when he kisses you, for real this time. His lips are warm and soft, his little bit of stubble scraping against your skin in an almost hypnotic fashion. This is why you told him about the key. You wanted to come home to him.

The rest of the world melts away, and you’re left with just Jack.

….

You wake up at 11:30 the next morning to an empty, cold bed, a hoodie folded neatly on the end of the bed with the number 86 on the shoulder, and a barrage of notifications on your phone. They’re still rolling in, chiming every so often. Your heart lurches.

There are a billion from your manager- something about being careful and bad look and you didn’t even get in until 2:30 so why was he there- and your stomach sinks even further. When you open twitter, there it is. A grainy, blurry set of photos, of Jack’s shoulder and back as he leaves the townhouse, his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, his white sneakers bright in the blue early morning light. You can’t see his face in any of them, the hood of his jacket pulled up around his head, which is topped with a beanie and sunglasses. He’s almost unidentifiable, but you know the internet. They’ll figure it out.

It’d be easier if you’d never been seen with him in public before, but you have. Months ago, now, at a charity event hosted by a mutual friend. There’s been a photo of you and Jack from that night, chatting away near the bar in the venue, smiles on both your faces. There’d been a barrage of posts and notifications, then, too- eager Devils fans who were excited to see you talking to him, eager fans of your own who had similar feelings, the other way around. And a text from your manager, reminding you of your upcoming movie, of your male costar who you were supposed to maybe-potentially-possibly be in love with. For the press. For the ratings. But Jack had captured your heart that night, with a teasing joke about Hollywood and a soft little grin on his face, and you’d been unable to forget him.

Now you’re here, in your empty bed while Jack is at practice or meetings, or something in between. It’s not the first time. But it feels like it could be the last.

Jack’s a private person. You are, too, when you can be. When you’d first gone out with him after that first night, he’d seemed wary of all the precautions you took to hide from the press. You’d smiled ruefully and told him that if this was going to happen, he’d have to get used to sunglasses indoors and private rooms and stay at home dates. You’d expected it to scare him off. It usually did- you can’t blame any of them, really.

But it’s been months now, and Jack woke up in your bed this morning. So the scaring didn’t really work as planned.

Text me when you wake up.

That’s the text from Jack. No emojis, a period at the end, no life to it. You fight the urge to roll over, press your face into the pillow, and go back to sleep. Try again later. Hope this is a nightmare.

You text him back, something equally as lifeless. He’s probably busy, he probably won’t have time anytime soon, so you’ll have to wait until then to figure this out-

The phone rings. It’s an echo of Jack’s shrill alarm hours ago, except he’s not here to rub at his eyes sleepily and smile at you and make you feel better. Now it’s his contact, the simple “Jack” flashing across your screen. You sigh and swipe to answer.

“Hi,” you say. Your voice cracks on the single syllable, gravelly from stale plane air and travel and disuse.

“Hi,” Jack echoes. His tone is warm. Soft.

You swallow. “I’m-“

“-sorry,” Jack says, talking at the same time as you, saying the exact same words. You blink up at the ceiling above your head.

“What?” You ask, a bit bewildered.

“What?” He repeats. “Why are you sorry?”

You blink again. “Why are you sorry?”

He lets out a huff, one you can almost picture. “I fucked up.”

And this is how it goes. You’d thought of all people, Jack would have the decency to do this in person. To wait until you’re not seconds past waking up. That maybe he’d give you a bit to process before he called it quits, before he says what everyone else has said before him.

It’s too much.

You’d warned him, back when you’d seen him for the 7th time. You’d been laying in his bed, half on top of him, drawing patterns on his bare chest with your pointer finger. He’s asked about labels and how serious this was and if you were seeing anyone else, and told you he wasn’t. All very brave of him, really. You’d been afraid to say anything for weeks.

“Not seeing anyone else,” you’d admitted. “Where would I find the time?”

He’d huffed out a laugh and tucked you close. “Can we maybe keep it that way?”

It should’ve been a red flag. Not on his part, but on yours. You know how this ends, you’ve been down this road before, and you’d known, even then, that this wouldn’t end any differently. Things go smooth until the media catches wind, and then they figure out who he is, and then everyone picks apart every little bit of him until there’s nothing left for you to hold onto. You can’t blame them, all the people you’ve lost to this curse.

You hate the media enough yourself. You can’t imagine subjecting anyone you care about to it.

You’d tried to warn him. About the secrecy that would be required, about how if anyone ever caught wind of it, he’d be subject to the worst scrutiny of his life. He’d tried to insist he understood, that nothing could be worse than his rookie year, that this mattered enough to him to put up with the pressure. But now the pressure is drilling down on the two of you, and he’s crumbling, just like they always do-

“I knew better than to leave out that door,” he says. “There’s always a pap there, you’ve told me about it before,” he says. “I was just. I was in a rush, because I was so comfy this morning, and I forgot, so. I’m sorry.”

You frown. “It’s okay, Jack.”

You’re the one who told him about the key. Who let him stay over, fueled by sleep deprivation and the urge to see him, even just for a little bit. You’ve gone and contributed to your own demise. God, you were going to let him pick you up from the airport. What kind of idiot are you?

“Are you okay?” You ask him.

He scoffs. “They don’t even know it’s me.”

Your gut twists, again. “They will.”

“Mm, maybe my powers of camouflage have worked,” he says. “Maybe I’ve stumped them.”

You don’t bother pointing out that if the press haven’t already figured it out, his fans will. Someone’s bound to point out the grainy Devils logo on his hoodie, the characteristic swoop of his hair. Someone’s bound to have followed him to his car, and they’ve probably already looked up his license plate. They’re probably running it through whatever system they use, and even if Jack is leasing the car he’ll still show as connected to it, and then they’ll dig their claws into him.

“They’re never stumped,” you tell him. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fuck.”

“I know,” he says, voice softer this time. “So. What do we do?”

You pry your eyes open. What do we do? We.

“We?” You choke out.

Jack scoffs. “Yeah, we. I mean. Do we come out and tell everyone, just to take it away from them? Do we lie?”

We. It’s never been a we, before. Not like this. It’s always been flight, never fight. Like everyone before Jack hadn’t thought it was worth it to even try. Had thought you weren’t worth it.

“Jack, you don’t understand,” you tell him. “They’re gonna tear you apart. They’re gonna tear us apart.” Until there’s no us left, you think. “We- we don’t do anything. There’s nothing to do.”

“Not to stop them, no,” he agrees. “But you’ve had this before. How did you and those people handle it? I mean- I can avoid interviews for a while. Nico will take them, he’ll understand. And the All Star break starts soon, so then-“

“They didn’t,” you cut in.

He pauses. “Who didn’t what?”

You sigh, again. “They didn’t handle it, Jack. They broke up with me and left me to handle it and kept going on with their lives. So. Nobody will blame you if you do the same, let alone me. I get it.”

Jack stays quiet for a few moments. The silence hangs between the two of you, heavy and thick. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to say it. Because you always let them do it. No matter how much you’re to blame here, you can’t be the one to end it over this. Not when things were going so well with him.

“I’m coming over,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“Just- stay put. Stay there. I’m on my way,” he says. You hear the jingle of his keys.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You tell him.

“Me neither,” he says.

You don’t bother to warn him that there’ll be added media attention, that the place is probably swarming with people with cameras. You don’t think it’ll change his mind- Jack is stubborn when he’s set on something. And it’s a little late, anyways.

He shows up an hour later, probably having had to fight through insane traffic to get there. You’re back in bed, having only gotten up to brush your teeth before retreating to the safety of it. He lets himself in with the key, and you hear him come up the stairs and shuffle over to your bedroom door.

He stands there, haloed by the hallway light. You roll over to look at him, barely able to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. Maybe he’s just waited to do it in person. Maybe he’s trying to let you down easy. It’s never easy. To lose a relationship like this, before you’re ready.

Things were going so well. You think of nights spent in your kitchen, making dinner together, sharing a bottle of wine. You think of all the hockey games you watched from hotel rooms while you’ve been doing press, and the way Jack answered all your questions on the phone afterwards, never letting on how exhausted he really was. You think of breakfast delivered to your door while he was at away games, and the way he spoke so fondly about his family and friends, how they’d all love you and you’d love them. And now, you’ll never get the chance.

Jack, standing in the doorway, sighs.

He makes his way over to sit on the edge of the bed, and he reaches a hand out to rest against your cheek. You sigh in response. Wait for him to open his mouth, for it to hit. You wait, and wait, and-

“The way I see it, we’ve got a few options,” he says. You blink up at him. “We can just go public, take away the hype about it. We could pretend we have no idea what they’re talking about, just ignore it. We could wait for them figure it out and handle it then. Or-“

You sit up slightly, and he pauses. You know the confusion is written on your face. His gaze softens, blue eyes warmer than they’ve ever been.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says. “I don’t run when things get tough. Come on, you know me better than that.”

You want to tell him you’d thought that about everyone, only for them to run from it all, run from you, at the drop of a hat. But you don’t, because you can tell from the hard set line of his jaw, from the determined bend in his brow, that he means it. That he’s not going anywhere. At least, not without you.

“I wanna run away from it all,” you tell him. “I want to take you somewhere they can’t find us. I want-“ you cut yourself off with a wry laugh. “I just want you, that’s all.”

A smile creeps across his lips, and he leans forward to press them to your forehead. Warmth spreads over your body, all the way down to your fingertips and toes.

“We can make that happen,” he says. You can feel the smile against your skin. “If that’s what you want. I know a place.”

You let out a laugh, one that’s mixed with tears. But when he lays down in the bed and pulls you close, you’re inclined to believe him.

…..

The “place” Jack knows takes hours of travel to get to. It takes packed bags and ditching responsibilities on both of your parts, and dodging questions from your friends. But as he pulls the car into the driveway, you think it’s worth all the hassle. The house is blanketed in soft, fluffy snow, hanging off the branches of the trees and over the edges of the roof. He opens the garage and pulls in, and when the door closes behind you, you breathe out a sigh of relief.

When he’d suggested his Michigan house as the getaway location, you’d been skeptical. Anywhere that was linked to him would be a risk once they figured out who he was. But he’d told you about the security of the neighborhood, the gate at the entrance, and that they’d never been bothered there before. He’d suggested that the two of you could just stay in the house the whole time, and it wouldn’t matter. The press finding out about Jack is inevitable, at this point. But as you walk into his house, you remind yourself that they can’t touch you here. You’ve left them all chasing their tails in New York City and disappeared.

Besides, the snow is coming down harder now. Even the paparazzi wouldn’t brave the weather.

Jack insists on carrying your bags in, and then he shows you around. The living room is first, decorated with photos of him and his brothers. The house is full of hockey memorabilia, you realize, as he shows you around. But it’s also warm. Personal. Home. There’s a photo of him and his brothers as little kids hanging over a fireplace. It makes you smile, the way you recognize the light in Jack’s eyes, the determination on his face. He hasn’t changed a bit. You’ve been in his apartment in New Jersey, but you know now that this is what he considers his real home.

He takes you up to the bedroom before the rest of the house, so you can get settled. You change into even comfier clothes than your travel ones while Jack heads back downstairs and tells you to meet him when you’re ready.

You call out to him a few minutes later when you pad your way down the stairs, and he calls back from a room you haven’t been in yet. When you walk in, he’s standing at the kitchen counter, setting out a bottle of wine. There are fresh flowers in a vase- Jack had said he’d ordered groceries to be delivered, and he must’ve gotten those, too. It’s a sweet touch.

You walk into the middle of the room and look around, a bit in awe. It faces towards the lake, with a large sitting area connected to the open concept kitchen. The lights are low and warm. Along the back wall, there are floor to ceiling picture windows, giving you the perfect view of the icy lake, the snow covered sloping bank, and the houses that dot the shore all around you. Like a postcard, or a hallmark movie. Jack pads his way across the room to you.

“Oh, wow,” you say, quietly.

He nods, his hands falling to your hips from behind as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Pretty, right?”

You nod. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. Still. Quiet. A billion other words pass through your mind. But most of all, it feels safe. Like the whole world could be chasing after you, but here, it’s just you and Jack and the snow. You could run out into it, fall flat on your face, and there’d be nobody there to see it. Or to care.

“Can we go out in it?” You ask him, carefully. Not wanting to break the calm. “It looks so-“

“Yeah,” he agrees, eagerly. “I think we’ve got a pair of boots that’ll fit you.”

Ten minutes later, you waddle through snowdrifts that cover your calves in boots one size too big. You can’t bring yourself to care about the snow in your socks, or the notifications on your phone, or the fact that by now, they’ve probably figured out who Jack is. Because Jack is standing in front of you, and you know who he is far more than they ever will.

He’s the kind of person who stays.

He lobs a snowball at you. It hits your shoulder and crumbles, and he laughs. Pure, loud, happy. You reach down with your mismatched mittens, stolen from their bin of miscellaneous outdoor gear, and form one of your own. You look at him, lining up your aim. Look at his flushed cheeks, his wide grin, the way the snow sticks to his hair and melts on his nose.

“Come on baby,” he says, taunting, arms spread wide. “Hit me with your best shot.”

You drop the poorly formed snowball at your feet and launch yourself at him instead. He’s laughing again by the time you both hit the ground, the snow cushioning his fall. He laughs more when he rolls you over and pins you under him. There’s snow seeping down the back of your shirt, and it makes you shiver. And then he kisses you, and the cold doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing does, except this.

He’s never kissed you anywhere close to the public, both of you too cautious. So much of your relationship has been hidden away. You’d never had a chance like this in New York- no kissing in the rain, under streetlights, no cheek kisses between glasses of wine at fancy restaurants, no holding hands while you walk down the street. But now you’re out under the cloudy sky, surrounded by peace and quiet, and he’s kissing you. You never want to leave this place.

You shiver, again, and he laughs into the kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes are sparkling. You think yours are too.

“Come on,” he says. “We should get you warm before you catch hypothermia.”

He suggests a shower. You agree eagerly and pull him under the spray with you. The cold melts away, along with the rest of your worries.

Later, you’ll drink wine and make dinner and watch some old movie he’s been insisting you need to see. Later, you'll curl up basically on top of him in bed, surrounded by him, feeling more at peace than you have in months. Tomorrow, he’ll wake up before you do, and come back with coffee from his favorite place in town, and wake you up in bed with it, made just the way you like. And you’ll look at him and thank him. Not just for the coffee, but for bringing you to a place that means so much to him. For letting you in on his little bit of comfort.

You won’t have to say it out loud. He’ll already know.

[bekolxeram]

Everyone decides to be sad about Tommy spending the holidays alone today. I just want to say, I hate you all. Especially @mmso-notlikethat with this post. As payback for making me cry my way into insomnia, I wrote this on my phone instead of sleeping.

By the time he knocks on the door, Tommy still has no idea what to expect. “Wear something nice, we’re celebrating tonight,” that’s the only instruction he’s received from Evan, his boyfriend once again. Tommy can’t help but smile at the mere thought of finally allowing himself to say that name.

He has a burgundy dress shirt on with a pair of light grey slim fit pants. Simple, but elegant, hopefully properly dressed for this undisclosed commemoration. March is not known for its holidays, so what’s the occasion that calls for such festivity? They did meet last March at the cruise ship rescue, maybe that was it? Or perhaps Evan is having some sort of career advancement? They’ve been back together for just a few weeks, there’s simply not enough time for Tommy to catch up on Evan’s ever so eventful life. To that, Tommy silently mourn the time they’ve lost, due to his own cowardice.

“Hey — Hey,” Evan takes a step outside of the door to greet Tommy with a quick peck on the lips. Tommy lets the younger man drag him into the loft without much reaction, because he’s still confused by the sight in front of him: Evan in his usual navy blue button up, dark jeans and… a Christmas hat?

Inside the loft is a jumble of sparkly festive decorations. To his left, he sees “Happy Birthday Tommy”; to his right, “Merry Christmas”; and deeper into the living space, “Happy New Year”.

“Jee and Mara helped setting these up,” Evan says while taking half of a roast turkey out of the oven. “This one is from Bobby. He said half a bird is enough for the two of us, if we don’t want to suffer through leftover for the next 7 days.” He then sets the tray next to some roasted vegetables and a casserole. “The casserole is from Chimney, but I’m pretty sure it’s Maddie’s recipe. Hen got you a cake. I think she said something about being sure you would like it. We can have it for dessert. Oh, and the champagne is from…”

“Eddie, because he can’t cook.” Tommy cuts in.

“Exactly!”

“Evan, what’s going on here?”

Evan steps closer, taking both of Tommy’s hands into his own, “You told me the other day that you spent your 40th birthday alone… I only realized later that you were probably on your own for the entire holiday season, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Valentine’s Day. I know it doesn’t come close to the real thing, but I was thinking maybe we could make up for a few key moments that we missed.” He dims the lights in the loft with a remote control and fiddles with something on the dining table. Suddenly, the whole room is lit up with colorful patterns and twinkling stars. “I couldn’t get any firework around here, so I borrowed this star projector from Christopher.”

“Oh… Evan,” Tommy sighs, eyes already hazy with tears.

“I’m not asking you to move in with me or to make major commitments. I’m not asking for anything in return at all. This is… a promise, from me to you. No matter what happens, what becomes of us in the future, I’ll be there when you need me, we all will.”

Evan says earnestly, with utmost conviction in his tone. The clarity in his eyes reminds Tommy of that day at the café terrace, almost a year ago. “I just want you to know, Tommy, you’re no longer alone.”

A few drops of tears escape Tommy’s eyes, but before he can respond, Evan pulls out a mistletoe from his pocket and dangles it over their heads.

“You have to kiss me now.” Evan says with a cheeky grin. Tommy waits no time to capture those smiling lips with his own, kissing him with all the love and gratitude in his heart.

“I love you, Evan. I’m so lucky to have you.” Tommy pulls him into a warm embrace.

“I love you too.” Now it’s Evan’s turn to tear up.

Tommy pulls back a little and asks, “hey, would you mind if we celebrate Valentine’s Day first?”

“Oh, you mean you’re interested in the Valentine’s Night activity?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.”

“Come upstairs. I’ll show you.”

[barcarsenal12]

Girls like Girls pt 2

summary: after her talk with her teammates, r begins to reckon with the changes to her identity. A huge invasion of her privacy leads to a very upsetting, very public reveal. Luckily, her teammates are there to pick up the pieces.

TW: coming out, questioning sexuality, panic attack, pg13: making out

The days and weeks after your breakdown were easier. It felt like a release-- like you needed to pull the plug, and  all of your emotions out before you could start to reconcile. You started to come back from the panic that had gripped your body, and you found your footing in football again. 

Still, you were constantly aware that something had shifted within you. Sometimes that knowledge would threaten to overwhelm you, othertimes it felt inconsequential, but it always sat like a weight in your stomach. 

Mapi, Ingrid and Alexia kept an awkwardly close eye on you for a little while. That very first afternoon, when they held you on the locker room floor, Alexia brought you home with her and tucked you into her spare bedroom. She refused to leave your side until she could see that your thoughts had settled. In the days that followed, they seemed to have collectively decided to give you space. They checked in on you daily, but never brought up your sexuality, as if they wanted you to initiate any conversation on the topic. You found yourself in their presence more and more. The four of you started to spend more time together outside of training. You felt so loved, but at the same time a little embarrassed for making something as teeny as your sexuality such a big deal. They didn’t seem to have such issues with their own sexualities, after all. 

Still, being around 3 women who were so deeply in love with other women helped you more than you could tell them. As you began to settle in with your new identity, you began to seak out their support.  

--- 

Two weeks after your realization, you found yourself on Mapi and Ingrid’s couch, tucked snugly into Aletlexia’s side. A movie was playing, but it was late, and you were fairly certain that Mapi and Ingrid were both sound asleep. They were curled up on the other end of the sofa, and both seemed to be breathing heavily. Alexia’s arm was around you, and you would have thought that she was asleep, too, if not for the mindless way that she played with your hair. 

“Ale?” You whispered into the dark, figuring that if she didn’t hear you would just drop it. 

“Hm?” She hummed back.

“Can I talk to you?” 

Alexia hand in your hair stopped, and she slowly reached for the remote to pause the movie before pulling away from your grip to see your face. 

“Always,” She looked at you with concern. 

You glanced nervously at Mapi and Ingrid, who were very clearly asleep. “I think that I’m definitely gay.” You whispered, almost as if it was a secret. 

Alexia laughed quietly, and reached up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Ok, neña.”

“Like, I think all the way.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “You think that you are a lesbian?”

You bit your lip, and nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” 

She pulled you into her, resting your back against her body again. “I think that I am too.” She whispered back. You could hear her grin, and you laughed, too, and flicked her leg. “I’m glad that you are figuring it out. I know that this is very scary.” She said, still quietly. 

“Yeah,” you said, looking down, “can I ask you a question?”

“Okay.” 

“How did you know?” You asked.

“That I was gay?” She confirmed, and you hummed in response. 

“I was young, I started to catch feelings for Jenni.” She started. “I wasn’t sure if I liked her as a friend or as more,” she continued, “but one day she kissed me.” 

You giggled, and Alexia poked you in the side. “Callarse or I’m never going to tell you things ever again.” 

You covered your mouth. 

“She kissed me, and I realized that it was definitely more than friends.” She exhaled sharply. “Mapi was already out, so it was easy for me to follow her path.”

You nodded. 

“Do you like someone, pequeña?”

You thought for a moment that you were talking about crushes with your captain. It crossed your mind that you should be embarrassed, but somehow here, in the dark, you weren’t 

“No, but I think I might like to find a girlfriend.” 

Alexia pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Just pick someone good for you. I never liked your boyfriends.” 

“I will,” you laughed, “Thank you, Ale.” 

---

It was another two weeks before you found yourself at a club Before long, you were past tispy and had made no complaints when a pretty girl began to lead you outside, away from your friends. You suddenly felt woefully unprepared, as if you had never even had your first kiss, and your heart almost beat out of your chest as she pulled you into the alley behind the bar. 

She reached for you, her finger tips tracing your jaw and the back of your ear before tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. You could feel her breath on your face, and you thought that you might pass out from the anticipation. She was gentle, though, and she leaned in slowly, brushing your lips with her own before pulling back. You followed her, leaning forward as she pulled away. 

“I-” You started, but were cut off as she leaned back towards you, kissing you with a slow intesity that no man had ever been able to give you. Her hands were in your hair, and yours were tracing her spine, and you were melting into her, disintegrating, and you were sure that your legs were giving out, but somehow you were still standing. 

She must have sensed that you were struggling to hold your weight because a minute later you were pressed against the wall of the bar. You gasped as your back collided with the bricks, and she took the opportunity to push her tongue between your lips. The world around you disappeared as all of your outside senses dulled, as if turning all of their energy to this girl in your arms. 

She pulled back and began pressing feather light kisses to your jaw. She traced her way down to your neck, and you brought your hand up to the back of her head, pushing her closer to you. You moaned as she left a mark, and pulled her back up to find her lips with your own again. you pressed your knee between her legs and she groaned into your mouth, pushing you back against the wall and deepening your kiss. 

You jolted apart at the sound of your phone ringing. You flipped it over, and sighed at the sight of Mapi’s name on it’s screen. 

“I have to take this,” you apologized, voice full of regret. 

She leaned closer to you. “Ok,” she whispered in your ear. You swallowed, and your hand shook as you brought your phone up to your ear. 

“Hey Mapi,” you mumbled, hoping that your voice wasn’t wobbling. 

“Hey nena” Mapi responded. As she spoke, the girls against you began to kiss your collarbone, and you had to fight to keep your voice steady. 

“What’s up?” You asked.  

“Nothing much. Just checking in.” The girl’s hand traveled down your body, and you gasped as she reached the waistband of your pants. You tilted your head back against the wall, trying to keep your composure. 

“I’m fine.” You said, knowing that fewer words were better right now. 

“Ok,” Mapi said, suspicious, “Do you need a ride to training tomorrow?”

You closed your eyes, and tried to focus your mind, but the girls fingers were now brushing over the cloth of pants between your legs, and your head felt like mush. “Sure, Mapi that would be great. Listen, I need to go. Have a good night.” You hung up the phone before Mapi could respond, and brought your attention back to the girl. She brought her mouth back up to yours, and you groaned as she removed her hand, brushing her fingers across your cheek. 

“Come back to mine?” She whispered, her voice a question. 

You sighed. As drunk on her as you were, you knew that you couldn’t have a one night stand with training the next day. 

“I can’t,” you breathed. She frowned at you. 

“Can I at least get your number?” She asked, and you nodded happily. 

“Would you want to get dinner sometime?” You asked, like her tongue hadn’t just been inside your mouth. 

She laughed as you put your number into her phone. “Sure. I’ll text you.” 

She kissed you one last time, the walked off to find her friends. You took a moment to compose yourself, before staring the short walk back to your apartment. 

---

When you got home, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your face was flushed, your hair was messy, and you pressed a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from laughing out loud. 

---

It was Ingrid that saw the news article first. She didn’t make it a habit to check football news, especially not the tabloids, but she happened to stumble upon the pictures posted by a fan account on instagram. Her eyes widened at the photos and she quickly scanned the attached news piece. The initial shock of seeing you with someone, when she hadn’t even know that you were thinking about dating or starting to experiment with women, faded as she realized what this would mean for you. She ran a hand through her hair, sighing to herself and wondering how the world could be so cruel. Ingrid picked up her phone and clicked on your contact. When the phone rang out, she grabbed her car keys and ran out her door. 

Today was an away game, but because both Ingrid and you were sidelined with minor injuries, you had both stayed home. Mapi and Alexia, on the other hand, were on the bus heading home. As Ingrid started to pull out of her driveway, she connected her phone to her car speaker and dialed Mapi. When Mapi didn’t pick up, she called Alexia, who thankfully picked up on the first ring. 

“Ale”, she sighed out. 

“Hola,” Alexia responded, “Is everything ok?”

“Have you been on instagram?” Ingrid asked.

“No.” Alexia said. “Why?”

“It’s Y/N”. Ingrid answered. She waited a moment, as Alexia opened instagram and was immediately looking at pictures of your face. 

“Mierda,” Alexia mumbled, “How quickly can you get to her?” 

“I’m on my way,” Ingrid responded. 

--- 

You had never in your life felt this kind of fear. It crashed over you, in wave after wave that slowly broke you down. You had seen the post on instagram, instantly recognizing yourself, the girl,  and the bar that you were at that night. This part of you that was so raw, so fresh, so not ready to be shared, had been thrust into the world. Now the waves were pulling on you. They were pushing you down, down, underwater, where you surely would drown. You couldn’t remember how to breath properly, and you were suddenly aware of the fact that you would probably never breath again. 

This was it. This was where you drowned. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the knocking, but all of your senses were dulled. You couldn’t hear anything past the waves crashing over your head and stealing the air from your lungs.

 You suddenly couldn’t even remember what you were so worried about in the first place. All that you knew was the anxiety that consumed your entire body. You were dying. Of course you were. This was it. 

--- 

When Ingrid realized that you were not going to open you front door, she frantically started to search for your spare key. She checked the doormat and the mailslot before finally finding it tucked away above your doorframe. She sighed with relief, and quickly shoved her way into your home. 

“Y/N?” She called, but got no answer. She poked her head into your kitchen, and upon seeing you curled into a ball, heaving with unfinished breaths, dropped her things and kneeled down before you. 

“Sweetheart,” She said, although she was sure that you couldn’t hear her. Every part of your body was shaking. She wasn’t sure that you could even be considered crying, you couldn’t seem to get enough air into your lungs to form sobs. You were wrapped around yourself, gasping desperately for air. 

“Kjære,” Ingrid tried again, tapping lightly at your hand, “Can you hear me? I need you to breath.” When you didn’t respond again, she grabbed your face and connected your eyes, trying hopelessly to get through to you. She had never felt so helpless. 

Ingrid’s phone rang, and she picked it up immediately. 

“Maria,” She said.

“Ingrid? Are you with her? Is she ok?” “Si, I’m with her. I don’t know what to do, Maria, nothing’s helping.” She said desperately. 

“What’s wrong?” Mapi asked. 

“Shes-” Ingrid took a breath, “I’ve never seen a panic attack this bad in my life. I don’t know how to help her.” 

Mapi inhaled sharply, “She’s having a panic attack?” 

“Yeah,” Ingrid confirmed, and heard rapid spanish and a loud exclamation on the other end as Mapi passed the information to Alexia. 

“Mapi, help,” Ingrid said, on the verge of tears herself as she watched your body fold further in on itself.

“Breathe, amor. Don’t freak out.” Mapi said. Ingrid refrained from pointing out that Mapi seemed an awful lot like she was freaking out. “Ale and I just got off the bus. We’ll drive straight there, 15 minutes tops. 

Ingrid sighed in relief. “Ok.” 

“You’re doing everything right, Cariño. We’ll be there soon.”  

“Please hurry.” 

---

Alexia could not sit still as Mapi drove them towards your home. Her knees bounced and her hands ran through her hair, and she tried to prepare herself for what she would see when she got to you, tried to think of what she could do to make this better. Mapi, on the other hand, had never felt this much rage in her life. She remembered your fears, and to see them coming to life sent waves of anger through her body. 

Mapi pulled in to your driveway, and barely put the car in park before Alexia was throwing the door open and barreling towards your apartment. Mapi caught up to her as she pushed your front door open. 

“Y/n?” Alexia called, “Ingrid?”

“In here!” Ingrid responded from the kitchen. 

They followed her voice, and Alexia let out a short gasp when she saw you, curled in on yourself, still gasping for breath. She fell to her knees in fron of you, quickly taking you into her arms. 

Mapi took in the scene in front of her and went straight to Ingrid, who looked wrecked. Mapi pulled her into a hug. “Has she gotten any better?” She whispered into Ingrid’s dark hair. 

“No,” Ingrid whispered against her shoulder, “She’s been like this since I got here.” 

Alexia’s full attention was on you, trying every trick that she knew to get you to calm down. 

“Chica?” She said, taking your face between her hands. “Can you hear me?” 

You weren’t real anymore. You didn’t think that you ever had been real. You were still tumbling, desperately stuck in your mind. Somewhere, you registered muffled voices and felt hands on your skin, but the waves of panic pushed you over again and again, forcing you back underwater. You had little breath to waste on trying to speak, but you so desperately needed help, before you life surely ended. Already, the edges of your vision were getting hazier. 

“Ayudame,” you rasped out, and Alexia felt her heart break. 

“I’ve got you. I have you, mi nina.” She said, frantically pulling you back into her. 

“Ale, she needs to breath,” Ingrid said, “or she’s going to pass out.” 

Alexia looked back at her, tears of frustration threatening to fall. “I don’t know what to do.” She said, desperately. She squeezed you tight, praying that the pressure would get through to you. You continued to squirm, fully gasping for air now. 

All at once, your body sagged against her, your eyes fluttering closed. Finally, your breathing evened out. 

“Nena?” She said, tapping your cheeks with her fingertips, before looking at Ingrid and Mapi in panic. 

“It’s ok,” Mapi exhaled shakily, “her body did what it needed to.” 

--- 

When you woke, it took a moment before you could place yourself. You delicately pried your eyes open, and quickly realized that you weren’t alone. Someone’s hands were combing through your hair. Ingrid’s, you realized. You were leaned against her, stretching across your couch. Alexia was sat in the chair across from you, her head in her hands. Mapi was here too, sitting on the floor with her back leaning against the couch by your feet. . 

Your first thought was to be worried about how upset Alexia looked. Then, the memory of what had happened crashed over you again. You closed your eyes, hoping to stay here, where you felt so impossibly safe, for as long as possible. You must have moved, though, because Ingrid was softly calling in your ear. 

“Neña?”

You opened your eyes again and met her gaze. She exhaled in relief, her shoulders sagging, and you flushed guiltily, realizing how much you had worried your friends. “Hi, Ing.” 

Alexia jumped up at your voice and was beside you in a second. “Y/N,” she said, running a hand across your sweaty forehead, “how are you feeling?” 

You shrugged and pushed yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the question. “When did you guys get here?” You asked. 

“A few hours ago,” Mapi chimed in from the doorway to your kitchen, “You were a little--” she cut herself off,  “you weren’t feeling so well.” 

“Neña,” Alexia said seriously, touching your hand lightly, “have you ever had a panic attack like that before?”

You shook your head, not meeting her eyes. She sat on the couch beside you, pulling you into her and pressing a kiss into your head. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, mi nina. You never have to be embarrassed.”

You sunk into her side. 

“I’m so glad you’re ok.” she whispered to you, pushing your hair behind your ear. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You didn’t need to ask her to clarify, your eyes already filling up with tears. “I just, I so wasn’t ready for the world to know. I was just trying something… new, and now everyone knows, and I didn't even get to choose to tell them or not.” You paused, brushing a tear from your cheek. “It feels so personal, so private. I only just figured this out, and I needed more time to be able to explore it by myself.” 

“I know, cariño,” Alexia said, “It is so unfair that this happened to you.” 

You turned your head, catching Ingrid’s eye. “Do you think the team will be mad?” 

She laughed, and smiled at you. “Mad? Elskling, they will be thrilled.”  

“You don’t have to worry about being the odd one out there,” Mapi chimed in, but you noticed that her smile was too tight. 

You smiled back, but another tear rolled down your cheek. 

“Is there something else?” Alexia asked you, brushing the tear from your cheek. 

“I just--” you looked away, swallowing sharply, “there were a couple comments that freaked me out.” 

Alexia’s face dropped, “oh, neña.” She was, of course, not stranger to homophobic comments, but remembered too well how much the first ones had hurt. “What did they say?” 

“They were dming me, calling me gross and saying that they would… make me like guys,” All three of the women around you sucked in a sharp breath, and you continued quickly. “I know that I don’t know them, and I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it just, I guess it just--” 

“Y/N,” Ingrid interrupted you, “you know that you’re safe, right?” 

You nodded. “I know that they can’t get to me, but the fact that they want to--” 

Alexia took a deep breath, and when she spoke her voice was sharp. “That’s really, really scary. Those are awful people. You are not gross, and you are protected from people like that. Do you hear me?”

“Si, Ale,” you nodded, surprised by her tone, “I hear you.” 

Mapi suddenly pushed her way to her feet, and walked into the kitchen. 

Ingrid watched her go, and smiled at you before standing up to follow her.

You looked at Alexia in surprise. 

“She is just angry. Really, really angry at the people saying these things to you. I don’t think that she wants you to see her mad.”

You nodded slowly, and sat in silence while Alexia ran her hand up and down your back. A minute later, Mapi and Ingrid walked back in and sat down across from you. Mapi clutched Ingrid’s hand. “I’m sorry, neña, I know that you are so strong, but it just makes me very upset to see you being treated this way.” 

“I don’t want to make you upset.” 

“You could never make me upset. They make me upset, the people saying these things to you, and you so don’t deserve it. I know that this sucks. But we’re here for you, ok?” She said,

“Ok,” you responded, looking around and meeting the eyes of each of the women around you, “thank you,” you whispered. 

You smiled at Alexia, and she smiled back, and you felt so, so, endlessly grateful to be surrounded by so much love. 

A/N: I know that is has been a while!! I finally found the motivation for this. Sorry not sorry.