#an hour and a half. texting a friend (that i have a crush on)

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: fluff, kissing, confession of feelings (?), literal sleeping together, implied nudity, reader wears Jack‘s clothes, implied sexual content (between other characters)

Summary: Somtimes confessions don‘t happen in a grandiose way, sometimes they happen over a shared breakfast.

A/N: Sooo, this part will start the last arc of the story I guess? I kind of got attatched to this story and my narration of it, but it feels like I should be ending it within the next two or three parts (which one of them will probably be just smut I have decided), there are still many more ideas I have reagarding Jack Abbot so, even when this will be done there will be more Jack Abbot content coming from this little corner of the internet. The second part of „Sweet boy“ is in the works at the moment and another Jack Abbot idea is growing in my mind even though I am not sure how far I will take that. I still hope you will enjoy this part of the story, it is a lot lighter than the last ones. Lots of love <3

Being back at work had been hard at first. Sometimes it felt like there was this weight trying to crush her, like it was suffocating her. The memory of the hand wrapped around her throat sometimes came back at unexpected times, hitting harder on some occasions than others. Still there was the ever present comfort of Jack lingering close to her, sometimes it was just a gentle squeeze of reassurance, other times it was a hug that lasted longer than it probably should in the quiet of the breakroom. He was there, always the quiet comfort when she needed it the most, but he never came too close, never let her be part of his thoughts. It was like he was worried that if he said too much there would be no going back. Though she knew that he knew that going back had not been an option since the moment they had met.

Standing under the roof of the PTMC she sighed. The downpour had started almost half way through the shift and had not gotten any less. The drainage system had trouble keeping up with the amount of rain coming from the sky and even people with an umbrella looked to be drenched to the bone. It made her feel a certain melancholy. Days like these somehow reminded her of her time in college, when she would run through the rain with her friends, laughing and joking. Even if it had not been that long ago it felt like she had gotten much older in that time, like something had started to weigh her down. Glancing at her phone she saw a new message from Tommy, hoping that it was something along the lines of ‘I’m coming to pick you up’, her car was in the workshop and she had walked to work that morning, taking a lesson out of Jack’s book, though now she regretted it. Opening the phone, a silent groan left her lips as she read the actual text. Mild annoyance started to seep through her mind.

Masie is not feeling well. Could you maybe manage to eat breakfast somewhere else for an hour or two before coming home?

Rolling her eyes she simply sends a thumbs up emoji. This just translated to ‘Masie and I want to have some alone time, could you maybe stay away from the apartment for another hour or two?’ At this point she was seriously considering moving into a new place, not because she didn’t enjoy living with Tommy and Masie, but because she often felt like an intruder in their relationship. Maybe also a bit because it started annoying her when all she wanted to do was go home and sleep and he and Masie would tell her that they were in the middle of something. It had also happened on multiple occasions that she had walked in on them, not something that she wanted to repeat, but apparently she had some talent to always come home when they were in the middle of it.

“Waiting for someone?” the low voice of Jack came from right beside her. He was standing there, even in this cold and miserable weather with only a thin sweater jacket thrown over his scrubs, arms crossed over his chest. For a moment she frowned, but then thought about the fact that the man was practically a walking radiator and never seemed to freeze.

“No, just thinking about where to head off to,” she muttered under her breath as she mentally cursed Tommy and Masie for not being able to wait with their shenanigans until she was dead asleep.

“Huh?” Jack gave her a mildly confused glance. Brows furrowed as he looked at her with a certain glint of concern in his eyes. It dawned on her that it probably sounded like she had nowhere to go. Shaking her head quickly she elaborated.

“I am temporarily banned from entering the apartment,” she paused, having to suppress a laugh as she shook her head, “Masie and Tommy wanted some alone time,” she put alone time in quotation marks with her fingers. Jack snorted and nodded.

“You want breakfast?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. Nodding slowly she was not sure where this conversation was going.

“Honestly? I would kill for breakfast and a bed,” she sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. “And probably a hot shower,”

A soft laugh came from the man standing beside her, glancing over at him she saw that he was already looking at her, his hazel eyes softer than they usually were. The butterflies in her stomach had dissipated over time, though they had been replaced by this warm and fuzzy feeling that settled over her mind every time he looked at her like that. Like all he wanted to do was hold her and protect her.

It had set something free in her mind, that look he started giving her. Those eyes, those looks fuelled her fantasies in both her dreams and waking moments.

“If you want to you could come to my place, there all three are freely available,” he gave her a look again, this time it was more hopeful than the one before, there was more to the question than just him offering his hospitality, there was the underlying question of how far she was willing to go.

“You are an angel, Dr. Abbot “ her tone was slightly teasing as she called him Dr. Abbot, though she knew that he would not be too mad about it. A soft snort came from him as he smiled at her.

“I definitely am not, but that sounds like a yes,” he titled his head in the direction she knew his apartment was in. “I think we should get going before you fall asleep standing,” he teased softly. She nodded, bracing herself to get drenched to the bone, because she had of course forgotten to take her umbrella and her jacket was not waterproof.

Both of them were drenched to the bone the moment they entered his apartment. Her scrubs clung to her body like a second skin and she could feel the water in her shoes. Shuddering slightly she pulled off her jacket. There was little relief against the wetness clinging to her body. Jack had done the same and simply dropped the wet jacket in the basket standing by the door.

“Just throw everything in there, I am going to run a load of laundry,” he muttered as he sat down on the small stool in the hallway. Toeing off her shoes she shuddered, the cold rain was not doing anything for the exhaustion and she felt like she might just collapse. Quickly she pulled off her socks, now standing barefoot in the hallway, throwing them into the basket she moved around slightly, trying to see how wet they were. A sigh left her lips as she saw that she was leaving wet footprints on the floor.

“Sorry about that,” she muttered as she opened her backpack, checking to see if its contents were as wet as the rest of her.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Jack sounded as tired as she felt, hearing shuffling she let out a soft groan as she saw the contents of her backpack. To her dismay everything in there was wet as well, the worst thing about that being that it meant that her change of clothes was dripping as she pulled it out of the backpack.

“Just put that in the basket as well, I am going to get you something dry,” Jack muttered as he pulled off the prosthetic, a groan escaping his lips as he placed it by the shoe rag. The crutches were standing beside him as she continued to peel off the scrubs. She knew that it was a general rule in the houses of most healthcare workers to take off the scrubs before doing anything else. The scrub shirt was like a blobfish as she threw it in the basket as well, the long sleeved shirt underneath was just as wet as everything else, though it was not dripping, which was good. She heard rustling coming from beside her, though she was too busy with her wet clothes and the disgusting feeling of her wet scrub pants to look. Quickly she shimmied out of her pants and a sigh of relief escaped her, she really hoped she wouldn’t get a UTI from this.

“You wanna go shower first?” she asked as she glanced to the side, seeing Jack sitting on the small stool, only in his boxers, his dog tags resting resting against his sternum. It was a sight to behold, his broad shoulders and the freckles that spattered his entire upper body. She had almost forgotten how magnificent the man looked under the scrubs.

“Nah, you shower first, then you don’t need to move around the shower chair,” he muttered as he turned around to grab one of the crutches. She swore that if she wasn’t as tired and exhausted she would be flustered about this situation. Peeling off the tight shirt she muttered a quiet thanks and headed towards the bathroom. It was strange, she knew exactly where all the rooms were, it was not her first time in this apartment, but still it felt like she had never been there before. Maybe it was because this time it was more domestic. Slipping out of her underwear she stepped into the shower, the hot water taking some of the stiffness out of her body. Even if she would have preferred to have a longer shower she knew that Jack also needed one. Stepping out of the shower she grabbed one of the clean towels in the cabinet, wrapping it securely around her.

A soft knock sounded from the door. She told him it was okay to open the door. Jack poked his head in, his salt and pepper curls sticking to his forehead from the rain, though his face looked a lot more relaxed than it usually did. For a moment she thought about what life would be like if it was always like this, if they would always come home from shifts together. Shaking her head she smiled at him.

“I put out some clothes on the bed for you. If you want to eat there is food in the fridge,” he spoke softly as she walked up to him, a small smile on her lips.

“Thanks,” she stopped right in front of him, his upper body and legs looked mostly dry, he had probably dried off a little so that he wouldn’t get too cold while waiting for her. She stood there for a moment, wanting to reach out and touch him. To run her hand through his hair and pull him in for a kiss. His breathing had become deeper as he looked at her, eyes flicking around. It was tentative, but he reached out, giving her time to draw away if she wanted, his touch was light as a feather as the tips of his fingers ghosted over the soft skin just over her collar bone. For a moment something came over his face, like he was debating something, then he drew away, sharp, quick, like her skin had burned him.

“I think I am going to let you shower in peace,” she spoke softly, carefully trying to squeeze past him, a shiver ran down her spine as his hand accidentally brushed over her thigh. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she quickly hurried away from the bathroom, only hearing the door to the bathroom closing just as she entered the bedroom.

He had put out a very new looking pair of boxers, sweatpants in a light gray that looked like they had seen better days, the cuffs of the pants frayed slightly and an old worn out hoodie that smelled like him, it must have been black at some point, but it looked more grey than black, but it was comfortable. Padding towards the kitchen she rummaged through the fridge, trying to find what she was looking for.

Humming softly to herself she fished out the pieces of toast from the toaster, spreading some butter on all of them, then putting cheese on them. The scrambled eggs sizzling in the pan filled the kitchen with a great smell. She had filled up two glasses with water, she knew that neither of them wanted to drink coffee now, not if they wanted to sleep soon. The quiet clanking of crutches made her turn her head to the side, a soft smile grew on her lips as she saw Jack standing in the doorway. Black shorts that hung loosely around his hips and a white t-shirt.

“Hey,” she spoke softly as she put some of the scrambled eggs on both of the plates. Carefully picking them up she turned to look at him. He was still standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on her, there was this strange expression on his face, the kind of expression she usually only ever saw in the eyes of a lover in the ED. Gently placing the plates on the table she took a seat, that got Jack moving, he came over to her the table, taking the seat across from her. Staring at the food in front of him she swore she could see his eyes mist over.

“Thanks,” his voice was quiet as he picked up the slice of toast. Looking at him for a moment she could see the way his shoulders seemed to have sagged slightly, she was not sure if he was relaxed or if something was bothering him.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, trying to keep herself from sounding too worried, but she knew that the worry was evident in her tone as she looked at him.

“Yeah, I just,” he paused, he looked like he was about to regret saying what he said then, “I just realised what I could have had a long time ago and what I missed out on,”

These words felt like someone knocked all the air out of her lungs, like the rope of tension between them finally snapped. Slowly she placed the fork down, the piece of scrambled egg still on it as she looked at him for a long moment. It felt like her brain was sizzling, like there was too much information to keep up with and it was about to shut down.

“Jack…” she breathed out, it felt strange calling him by his first name. He looked up at her, those hazel eyes as intense as they always were, they shone softly in the light of the kitchen, though there was a sadness behind them, a sadness she understood all too well.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, you know?” he sounded so regretful that it almost broke her heart. The usual intense eye contact wavered as he looked away from her while he spoke, like he was not sure if he should be saying these things.

“I really thought,” his voice became tight, she reached over the table, like he had done all those weeks ago when she needed comfort, though this was different, this was a quiet question. He stared at her hand like it was a sacred offering, hesitantly he reached over the table, his fingers brushing against the skin on her wrist. Gently wrapping his hand around hers, there was a certain reverence to it, a certain kind of care that he had only exuded a few times over the time they had known each other.

They finished eating breakfast in silence, their hands resting against each other. It felt like everything was spinning around her when she got up from where she was sitting, Jack still seated at the table, eyes fixed on her as she moved closer to him. Their hands stayed intertwined as she stopped right in front of him. He had to look up to be able to look at her properly, head leaned backwards as he licked his lips, eyes slightly glossed over, the bags underneath them deep. He was tired, so was she and maybe that was what caused her to move.

Gently with her free hand she cupped his cheek, the soft stubble prickling beneath her hand. He nuzzled his face in the palm of her hand, gently pressing a kiss to it, reverent like her hands were the ones of a goddess. It sent a wave of tingles up her arm and right towards her heart.

“You thought you did what was best,” she spoke softly, ending his statement from a few minutes ago, brushing her thumb over his cheekbone. He hummed softly as he leaned into her touch again. They were both dead tired, the exhaustion wearing on them, she knew that otherwise they wouldn’t do this, not this openly at least.

“Yeah, and it came back to bite me in the ass,” he looked at her now, those hazel eyes burning with that fire that sent tingles down her spine, settling in her lower belly. Her breath became heavier, like she had to fight for every single bit of air.

“It certainly did,” she chuckled, a soft gasp escaping her as his free hand grasped her thigh, just below her ass, he pulled her in even closer than she had been before, standing right at the juncture between his legs. Slowly she leaned down, they were close, their breaths intermingling slightly as she stopped, their noses brushing as she looked at him. For a moment she hesitated, but before she could move he pushed forward, their lips connected. This was not the same as it had been when they had first kissed, this was not need driven. It was driven by longing and care, a certain desperation to be close to each other again. Their lips moved perfectly together, just like they had before, his lips were plush, but chapped, she could still taste the scrambled eggs on him, but there was more to him than that. There was the comfort, there was the warmth of him. The familiarity of his taste. As they pulled away he gently brushed his nose against hers, pressing a second, quicker kiss to her lips. This time she nuzzled her nose to his, a content sigh escaping her lips. It was almost like something had moved into place, like something finally aligned that had been out of order during the past.

“Let’s go to bed,” his voice was low and gravelly, as he looked at her. The burning in his eyes had not gone away, but they both knew that they were too tired, they needed to sleep. She knew that there was more that he would like to do, she did as well, but the tiredness was still at the forefront of their minds.

Letting Jack get up she began turning off the lights, slowly they moved into his bedroom, it took them about ten minutes to get settled, the soft blankets wrapped around them, black out curtains drawn closed. She was facing Jack, nuzzled close to him, head resting on the same pillow his head was resting on her forehead pressed against his neck, one arm supporting her own head, the other one pressed against her chest. Jack had wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. the other one was curled under his head. They both knew that they would not be staying like this for the rest of the morning, but right now this felt right. She could hear the steady beating of his heart as she slowly began to drift off to sleep, his hand drawing a soothing pattern on her back. Safely cocooned up with him she knew that no one could hurt her here, not if he was with her.

——————-

Tags:

@antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs @tommosgirl06 @rosieposie88 @moonshooter @wowitsafemale

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

i rread your hcs for dad Pete and Jerry and I don't know how I ever went without them (dad Jerry has been in my mind for days now). Can we get head canons for dad Pete and Jerry with daughter reader, maybe on how they deal with having fights or if daughter grows up and they kinda have a "my little girl is growing up" Moment (idk I feel like pete would absolutely break down if she went for college)

Please and thank you :3 💐

( ye-OMG IS THAT FUCKING STAR FROM SPROUT NIGHT TIME SHOW

Dad Pete DiNunzio Headcanons (with His Daughter): Fights and Growing Up

Pete hates fighting with her. His temper might flare up fast — he’s loud, he swears under his breath, he paces the kitchen like a caged animal — but the second he sees her upset, it guts him.

If she yells at him (especially if she says something like "I hate you!" during a bad fight), he gets weirdly quiet. It stings worse than anything. He’ll just mutter something like, "Yeah? Well... good to know," and walk off before she can see the look on his face. He's heartbroken

He’s really bad at staying mad, though. After a few hours (at most), he’s awkwardly hanging around her doorway, asking if she’s hungry or offering to watch a movie with her like nothing happened.

Apologizing isn’t easy for him. He usually mumbles something like, "I didn't mean to be an asshole, alright? I just... I worry about you."

If she apologizes first, he’s immediately pulling her into a hug, patting the back of her head, telling her "S'not your fault. You're a good kid." Even if she was wrong, he’ll say it — because he’s her dad, and she’s his whole damn world.

"My Little Girl is Growing Up" Moments

Pete is the most pathetic proud dad when she starts growing up. When she gets her first job, her driver's license, a serious hobby — he’s bragging about her to anyone who will listen, even people in line at Dunkin'.

He keeps every art project, every bad school essay, every birthday card she ever gave him. Half his dresser drawers are just full of that stuff.

When she starts talking about college or moving out, Pete acts super casual about it ("Yeah, hell yeah, you’re gonna crush it, kid.") — but inside he’s falling apart.

He keeps offering to teach her "basic life skills" even if she already knows them. ("You sure you know how to change a tire? What about guys? You call me if you need help, alright? I’ll be there in a minute.")

Packing for college is brutal for him. He keeps finding excuses to carry her stuff himself, just to feel like he’s still taking care of her.

On move-in day, he helps set up everything — the bed, the shelves, the posters — just so he can stay a little longer.

Saying goodbye is the hardest thing he’s ever done. He tries to make it a quick hug but ends up squeezing her way too tight, muttering something thick-voiced like clearly trying not to break, "You’ll always be mia bambina, y'know that? Always."

He cries in his van on the way home. Full-on sobs into the steering wheel. Probably calls Jerry afterward, pretending he’s "just checkin' in." (Jerry totally knows he's crying.)

After that, he calls or texts her every day at first. ("How's classes? You eat yet? You makin' friends? You need me to send you socks?")

Pete slowly learns to give her space, but part of him is always stuck seeing her as the little girl who used to fall asleep on his chest during late-night monster movies.

---

Jerry stokes girl dad headcannons his little girl is growing up

---

Dad Jerry Stokes Headcanons (with His Daughter): Fights and Growing Up

Fighting with His Daughter

Jerry hates conflict. He’s the type who’d rather talk things out than have a real yelling match. He doesn’t raise his voice unless he’s seriously pushed.

During fights, Jerry tries to keep it calm, but you can hear the hurt in his voice if she says anything mean. He’ll get very still, very quiet, and just say, "I didn’t raise you to talk to people like that." That alone makes her feel horrible.

If he says something wrong or unfair during a fight, he’ll actually sit with it, feel guilty for hours, and apologize first.

His apologies are very straightforward, no ego attached: "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm sorry. You didn’t deserve that."

Jerry tries to turn every fight into a learning moment — for her and for him. He’ll say things like, "We're both figuring this out. It’s not easy. But I love you, and that’s never changing."

Afterwards, he usually softens everything with a quiet gesture: making her tea, sitting next to her on the couch without saying a word, just being there until she’s ready to talk again.

"My Little Girl is Growing Up" Moments

Jerry always knew she’d grow up — and he spent years preparing himself — but it still hits him like a truck when it starts happening.

He gets emotional about everything: her first school dance, her first car ride alone, the first time she stays out late without him worrying.

He takes so many pictures of her at milestones. He’s got albums stacked on albums. He captions them like he’s writing a scrapbook: "First job! So proud." "Last summer before college. She's all grown up and smarter than her old man."

When she starts talking about college, Jerry’s heart breaks a little — but he’s proud first. He’s the dad standing at college tours with his arms crossed and misty eyes, trying not to embarrass her.

Helping her pack is torture. He handles every item carefully, like it's sacred. He probably tears up folding her old T-shirts.

On move-in day, Jerry’s not the "hide it behind jokes" kind — he cries openly. Big, embarrassing, nose-sniffling tears. He hugs her and says, "You’re gonna do amazing things. I love you so much, sweetheart."

The second he gets home without her, he stands in her empty room for way too long. Doesn’t touch anything. Just stands there and lets himself miss her.

He texts her "good morning" and "good night" for weeks after she leaves, even if she doesn't always answer right away.

He never says it out loud, but when she comes home for the holidays? Jerry feels whole again.

---

[carnalcrows]

BABYSITTER - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x male reader

synopsis: When a broke college student takes a babysitting gig, he signs up for snack time and bedtime stories—but ends up with bloodstains, cryptic employers, and an unsettling crush on the kid’s disturbingly hot dad.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, blackmailing, blood, anal, breeding, creampie, missionary, mating press, dubcon, mentions of kidnapping, too much plot

word count: 5.2k (good lord)

It was a typical Wednesday afternoon when you found yourself perched in the corner of the campus café, a half-empty cup of cold coffee sweating onto the table beside your laptop. Bills, tuition, and the general weight of adulthood had a way of pressing down on your shoulders, leaving you in a constant state of mild panic. You scrolled through job listings with the desperation of someone clinging to a lifeboat.  

Barista? You had already been rejected twice due to your “lack of experience.”  

Retail? They wanted you available on weekends, which wasn’t feasible with your study schedule.  

Dog walker? Allergic to fur.  

The list grew more depressing as the minutes ticked by, until one particular post caught your attention:  

"Babysitter needed. Flexible hours. Payment upon services rendered. Serious applicants only."  

There was no company name, no attached image of a smiling family, not even a hint about the age of the child you’d be babysitting. The simplicity of it screamed sketchy, but the promise of payment dangled in front of you like a carrot on a stick. 

“Desperate times,” you muttered, clicking on the post.  

The application form was equally bare-bones, asking only for your name, availability, and a short paragraph about why you wanted the job. You quickly typed something generic about being responsible and good with kids, then hit send without much hope.  

To your surprise, you received a reply almost immediately.  

"You’re hired. Start tomorrow at 3 PM. Address: [Redacted]."  

You stared at the screen, bewildered. No interview? No background check? Either this was the world’s most desperate parent, or you were walking into a scam. A friend texted you moments later, asking if you’d found a job yet, and you decided to leave out the details when you replied, 

"Yep, starting tomorrow."  

The afternoon sun was scorching as you made your way up the steps of the quaint suburban house. The place had a sort of storybook charm—a neat lawn, pastel shutters, and a small porch swing swaying lazily in the breeze. If it weren’t for the suspiciously vague job listing you’d answered, you might have thought you were walking into a feel-good rom-com instead of a potentially shady situation.  

You knocked on the door and waited. Seconds ticked by. You shifted awkwardly, glancing over your shoulder as if expecting hidden cameras. But just as you were about to knock again, the door flew open with surprising force, revealing a little girl standing barely taller than the doorknob.  

“Hi!” she exclaimed, her voice so cheerful it nearly gave you whiplash. “Are you the babysitter?”  

“Uh… yeah,” you replied, startled by the sheer intensity of her enthusiasm. “That’s me.”  

“I’m Su-an,” she said proudly, puffing out her chest. “Come in! I was just having a meeting with my council!”  

Before you could even ask what she meant, she grabbed your hand and tugged you inside. The house was warm and cozy, if a little cluttered, with toys scattered across the floor and crayon drawings taped haphazardly on the walls.  

---

“This is Mr. Snuggles,” Su-an announced, holding up a ragged teddy bear with one ear chewed off. “He’s the president of my council.”  

“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding solemnly. “And what does the council do?”  

“Important stuff,” she said, narrowing her eyes like she was letting you in on a state secret. “Like deciding who gets cookies after dinner. Also, they voted to make you the assistant.”  

You blinked. “I don’t remember running for office.”  

“Well, you didn’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “But Mr. Snuggles said you looked like you’d be good at it.”  

Before you could protest, she shoved the bear into your hands and pointed to a tiny table covered in a chaotic mix of crayons, plastic teacups, and a single half-eaten cookie.  

“Sit,” she ordered. “The council meeting is starting!”  

---

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a whirlwind of nonsensical games and increasingly bizarre “council decisions.” At one point, you were ordered to wear a paper crown (which barely fit) and were dubbed the “Official Snack Prince.” Your royal duties included distributing Goldfish crackers and ensuring everyone—stuffed animals included—got an equal share.  

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” Su-an said, eyeing you critically as you handed Sir Fluffington his crackers. “Better than my last babysitter.”  

“Oh?” you asked, curious. “What happened to them?”  

“They couldn’t handle the council,” she said gravely.  

---

After the meeting adjourned, Su-an decided it was time to “train” you in the art of hide-and-seek. You played along, even though she kept hiding in the same spot: under the dining table, her giggles giving her away every single time.  

“Found you again!” you said, crouching down to peer under the table.  

She gasped, genuinely shocked. “How are you so good at this?!”  

“It’s a gift,” you deadpanned, earning another round of giggles.  

---

When hide-and-seek got old, she declared it was “dance party time.” She dragged you to the living room, where she plugged in her favorite playlist on an ancient speaker. The first song was a pop hit you vaguely recognized, and before you could even protest, she was already twirling around like a whirlwind.  

“Come on!” she yelled over the music.  

“I don’t dance,” you started, but she shot you a look so devastatingly adorable that you had no choice but to join in.  

What followed was ten minutes of the most ridiculous dancing of your life. Su-an moved like she was powered by pure chaos, flailing her arms and jumping around, while you attempted something resembling the robot. She laughed so hard she tripped over her own feet, and you had to catch her before she face-planted into the couch.  

---

As the day wore on, you found yourself genuinely enjoying her company. She was smart, funny, and had the kind of boundless energy that made you wonder if kids ran on caffeine instead of juice boxes.  

By the time bedtime rolled around, you were exhausted. Getting her into pajamas was an ordeal—she insisted she couldn’t sleep without her “lucky socks,” which turned out to be mismatched and buried at the bottom of her toy chest. When you finally tucked her in, she stared up at you with wide, sleepy eyes.  

“Will you come back tomorrow?” she asked, clutching Mr. Snuggles to her chest.  

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll be here.”  

“Promise?”  

“Promise.”  

---

As you made your way back downstairs, you felt a surprising sense of accomplishment. Babysitting wasn’t what you’d imagined yourself doing, but something about Su-an’s infectious energy and genuine joy made it worth it.  

You tidied up the living room, stepping over plastic dinosaurs and rogue crayons, and couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. If every day was going to be like this, maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.  

---

And so, your days with Su-an became a routine. Every afternoon, she greeted you at the door like an excited puppy, launching into a new scheme or game. One day, she decided you were a dragon and she was a brave knight. The next, you were her art teacher, helping her draw increasingly absurd animals like “dog-o-sauruses” and “cat-icorns.”  

One particularly memorable day, she tried to teach you how to braid her hair. It did not go well.  

“Why are there so many strands?!” you groaned, your fingers tangled in her hair.  

“It’s easy!” she said, giggling. “You just go over, under, over, under!”  

“You sound like a cryptic math teacher,” you muttered, earning another round of giggles.  

---

The days passed in a blur of laughter and chaos, and soon, you found yourself looking forward to your afternoons with Su-an. She made you forget about your stress, your bills, and your endless to-do list.  

Still, a question lingered in the back of your mind: where was her dad during all of this? But for now, you were content to let the mystery be. After all, it was hard to worry about much when you had a six-year-old demanding you be her “Royal Snack Advisor.”

It was one of those rare evenings when the air felt just right—not too cold, not too warm, with a soft breeze that carried the faint smell of grass and distant barbecues. Su-an had begged to go to the park after dinner, and you’d caved, eager to get some fresh air and give her a chance to burn off her endless energy.

“Push me higher!” Su-an squealed as she swung back and forth, her legs pumping excitedly. You stood behind her, laughing as you gave the swing a gentle push.

“Higher, huh? What are you trying to do, touch the clouds?”

“Maybe!” she shouted, giggling as the swing reached its peak.

The park wasn’t crowded—just a few other families and joggers scattered around. It was peaceful, the kind of evening where you could almost forget the strange tension that sometimes hung around the house, the questions you tried not to ask about her father’s late-night comings and goings.

But the peace didn’t last.

As you helped Su-an off the swing and she dragged you toward the monkey bars, a commotion near the edge of the park caught your attention. At first, you thought it was just a group of people arguing—a not-uncommon sight in the city. But then you saw him.

Your heart stopped.

There, in the dim light of a flickering street lamp, was a man—the man. His tall frame was unmistakable, even in the shadows. He stood over a small group of disheveled, huddled figures, who you quickly realized were homeless people. A plastic bag lay torn at his feet, loaves of bread spilled across the ground.

He wasn’t just standing there. He was stepping on the bread.

Your breath caught as you watched him stomp down with deliberate, almost mechanical force, grinding the food into the dirt. The homeless group stared in silence, some in shock, others looking away as if too defeated to protest.

“Isn’t that Daddy?”

The innocent question cut through the haze of disbelief like a knife. You snapped your head down to look at Su-an, her wide eyes fixed on the scene with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“No,” you said quickly, your voice sharper than you intended. “It’s not.”

“But—”

Before she could finish, you crouched down and gently placed your hands over her eyes. “Let’s go, Su-an. We’re leaving.”

“Why can’t I look? What’s wrong?” she whined, squirming in your grasp.

“Because it’s not safe,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you picked her up and started walking away, her protests muffled against your shoulder.

Your mind raced as you carried her toward the car. What had you just witnessed? That couldn’t have been him—could it? But the silhouette, the way he carried himself—it was all too familiar.

You buckled Su-an into her car seat, doing your best to distract her with promises of ice cream and cartoons when you got home. But even as she babbled happily about her favorite flavors, your hands trembled on the steering wheel.

By the time you got back to the house and put Su-an to bed, your heart was still pounding. You paced the living room, replaying the scene over and over in your head. The way he’d crushed the bread underfoot—there had been no hesitation, no anger, just cold, calculated precision.

Who does that?

And more importantly, why?

The house was silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you shifted on the couch. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but between your classes, assignments, and Su-an’s boundless energy, exhaustion had taken its toll.

It was the sound of the front door slamming that jolted you awake. Disoriented, you blinked into the darkness, the faint glow of the kitchen light casting long shadows across the room. Footsteps echoed through the hallway—heavy, deliberate, and nothing like the hurried, near-silent ones you were used to from the man of the house.

You sat up, your heart beginning to race. Something wasn’t right.

When he appeared in the doorway, your stomach twisted into a knot. His usually pristine white shirt was drenched in blood, the vivid crimson staining the fabric and dripping in thick, uneven streaks. His face was ashen, his dark eyes wild and unfocused, like a man teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t name.

“Wh-what happened?” you stammered, instinctively backing away as the metallic tang of blood reached your nose.

“It’s not my blood,” he said curtly, his voice gravelly and sharp.

As if that was supposed to make you feel better.

“That doesn’t answer my question!” you said, your voice trembling despite your attempt to sound firm.

He staggered toward the kitchen, his movements unsteady but purposeful. Against every ounce of self-preservation screaming at you to stay put, you got up and followed him.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, your tone softer this time.

He didn’t respond, instead gripping the edge of the counter as if to steady himself. The dim light overhead cast harsh shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more unapproachable than usual.

“Sit down,” you said, surprised by the steadiness of your own voice.

He turned his head, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. For a moment, you thought he’d ignore you, but then he surprised you by obeying. He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, his movements slow and deliberate, as if every step cost him.

You grabbed a damp cloth from the sink, your hands trembling slightly as you wrung it out. You weren’t sure why you were doing this—why you weren’t running out the door or calling the police. Maybe it was the way he looked, like a man who had seen too much, or maybe it was the faint vulnerability hiding behind his hard exterior.

“This... isn’t normal,” you muttered, more to yourself than him, as you began wiping the blood from his face. The cloth came away dark and sticky, and your stomach churned.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with things you don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a warning edge.

You paused, meeting his gaze. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, filled with something unreadable—a mix of exhaustion, anger, and something else that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m here,” you said, almost defiantly, as you moved to clean his hands. “So I’m already concerned.”

He didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease ever so slightly.

The silence between you grew even heavier, the only sound now being the soft movement of the cloth against his skin. Your hands were shaking slightly as you worked, wiping the blood from his face, his hands, but his eyes never left you. They were intense—piercing, almost as though he were searching for something in your expression.

You couldn’t look away for long. The tension in the air thickened with every passing second, your heartbeat picking up, each thud echoing loudly in your ears. It was like being drawn into a web you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

When you finally stepped back, giving him space, you thought you’d be able to breathe again. But then, his hand shot out, quick as lightning, wrapping around your wrist. The touch was firm, deliberate, sending an involuntary jolt of electricity through your veins. You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. His fingers were cold against your skin, but the intensity in his eyes made your heart race.

"Why are you helping me?" His voice was low, gravelly, and for a moment, you wondered if he was testing you—seeing if you’d reveal the truth, or maybe if you’d run.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but your pulse was hammering, and you couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted to his proximity. The heat between you both felt suffocating. His touch was grounding, yet it stirred something dangerous inside you. “Because someone has to,” you replied, your voice steady, though you could feel the words slipping off your tongue more as a defense than truth.

His gaze deepened, darkening in a way that sent a chill down your spine. The air between you was thick, electric, as if there were an unspoken promise between you both—a promise you knew you were too afraid to fully acknowledge. Then, before you could even react, he pulled you in close. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair with a force that made your breath catch in your throat.

And then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was a collision, desperate and overwhelming, like a dam that had been holding back too much for too long and was finally breaking free. His kiss was messy—almost violent—as if he needed to consume you, to claim you in a way that made your knees weak and your thoughts scatter. His lips were demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your body tremble.

You should’ve pushed him away, told him to stop, told him that this was wrong. Your mind screamed at you to break free, but your body betrayed you, leaning into him instead, matching the fervor of his kiss. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, his grip tightening. Your breath was ragged between kisses, and your pulse pounded in your ears as the world outside of the two of you seemed to vanish.

When he pulled away, just far enough to catch his breath, your lips were swollen, your chest heaving. You couldn’t think. All you could feel was the lingering heat of his touch, the undeniable thrum of desire that still buzzed beneath your skin. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something in them—something dark, dangerous, but...hungry.

His lips curved into a smirk, and it sent a jolt of unease running down your spine, mingled with something else, something deeper.

“You’re in over your head, kid,” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your back.

The words should’ve been a warning. They should’ve sent you running. But instead, they only lingered in the air between you, wrapping themselves around you like a noose. You should’ve known then, but you didn’t want to listen.

And for the first time, you realized: you were already tangled up in his web, and maybe—just maybe—you didn’t want to escape.

The obsession grew in subtle ways. You’d arrive to find unexpected gifts waiting for you on the kitchen counter: a sleek leather wallet, a watch so expensive you didn’t dare wear it, a bottle of cologne that smelled like a storm breaking over the ocean.

When you tried to protest—“This is too much” or “I can’t accept this”—his expression would shift. His jaw would tighten, his eyes darkening with something that made your chest tighten.

“Take it,” he’d say, his tone brooking no argument. And you’d always comply, your words catching in your throat as he gave you a look that said refusing wasn’t an option.

Your feelings about him became a tangled mess of contradictions. Every instinct screamed that something about him was wrong. The blood, the cryptic way he spoke, the chilling bread incident in the park—they all painted a picture of a man you should stay far away from.

But then there were the moments that left you reeling. A lingering glance, a brush of his hand against yours, the way he could soften—just slightly—when he saw you with Su-an.

The first time he kissed you, you felt like your world had been turned inside out. It was sudden, overwhelming, and left you breathless. His lips were rough but urgent, like he was staking a claim rather than asking permission. And when it happened again—and again—you didn’t push him away. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch despite every rational thought telling you to run.

But his obsession wasn’t content to simmer beneath the surface. It began to consume him, bleeding into the delicate balance of your day-to-day life.

He started showing up during your babysitting hours, a presence that was impossible to ignore. At first, he’d just watch from the doorway as you played with Su-an, his dark eyes following your every move with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

Then, his involvement escalated. He’d dismiss you early—always with some excuse about needing to talk to you. But the moment Su-an was out of earshot, his demeanor would shift. He’d pull you into his room, his hands firm but not rough as he guided you inside.

“You’re spending so much time with her,” he’d say, his voice low and rough, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Don’t forget who’s paying you.”

His lips would crash against yours before you could respond, his kisses urgent and messy, as though he couldn’t stand the thought of you being anywhere else but with him.

The final straw came on a night like any other—or so you thought. Su-an had already gone to bed, and you were tidying up the living room when your gaze drifted toward the slightly ajar door of the man’s study. It was a room he rarely used in your presence, a space he kept locked most of the time.

You hadn’t intended to snoop. But the door was open, and your curiosity, already inflamed by the strange events surrounding him, got the better of you.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of leather and faintly bitter cologne. The dim lighting cast long shadows over the mahogany desk and the shelves lined with books and files. One particular folder caught your attention—it was open, papers spilling out as if hastily shoved aside.

Your heart sank as you picked up the first page. It was your class schedule, neatly printed and highlighted. Beneath it were receipts from your favorite coffee shop, notes about your usual order scribbled in the margins.

And then there were the photos.

They weren’t candid shots taken on the street or at the park. They were intimate, the kind of photos someone would take if they were watching closely—too closely. You recognized the outfits, the moments. One was of you laughing as you pushed Su-an on the swings. Another showed you sitting on a park bench, earbuds in, entirely unaware of the camera.

The air in the room felt too thick, like it was choking you. Your fingers trembled as you shoved the papers back into the folder, heart hammering in your chest.

“What the hell is this?”

The words left your mouth before you even realized he was standing in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something intense.

The folder in your hands felt heavier than it should have, its contents seared into your memory. Photos of you, notes about your life, details no one should know unless they’d been watching you for far too long. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, standing so calmly in the doorway as if this was all perfectly normal.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped further into the room, his movements slow, deliberate. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing you in with the man you were starting to realize you knew far less about than you’d thought.

“I warned you,” he said, his voice low, almost soothing. “I told you not to go looking where you shouldn’t.”

“This—this is insane,” you stammered, backing up until the edge of the desk pressed against your hips. “Why do you have these? Why are you—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he interrupted, his tone softening as he drew closer. His gaze was unrelenting, pinning you in place. “I’ve been watching over you. Protecting you. You’re... important to me.”

“Protecting me?” you shot back, your voice breaking. “This is stalking. This is obsessive. This—this isn’t normal!”

He stopped just a breath away from you, his height and presence overwhelming. His eyes, dark and piercing, searched yours for something, though you couldn’t tell what. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmured, his voice almost breaking. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me–and to my daughter? You’ve become... everything.”

The warmth of his touch sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Your body tensed, torn between the instinct to pull away and the undeniable pull of his closeness.

“Stop,” you whispered, though your voice lacked the strength it should have had. “This isn’t—this can’t—”

But he didn’t stop. His other hand moved to your waist, firm but not forceful, as he leaned closer.

“You keep saying it’s wrong,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your lips. “But you don’t push me away.”

His lips brushed against yours, testing, as though giving you one last chance to stop him. But when you didn’t move, when your breath hitched and your hands gripped the edge of the desk behind you, he took it as permission.

The kiss was slow at first, deliberate and searching, as though he was memorizing every inch of your mouth. But it didn’t stay that way for long. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

You gasped against him, your hands instinctively gripping his shirt. The heat of him, the sheer intensity of his presence, was dizzying. When his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you couldn’t suppress the small sound that escaped you—a sound that seemed to ignite something in him.

His movements grew more desperate, more consuming. He pressed you back against the desk, his body caging you in as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down to the sensitive skin of your neck. The scrape of his stubble sent sparks of sensation racing down your spine, and you couldn’t help the way your head tilted to give him better access.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough, almost guttural. “Do you even realize what you do to me?”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing even as your body betrayed you, leaning into him. His hands gripped your waist, his thumbs brushing just under the hem of your shirt, and you shivered at the contact.

“This... this isn’t okay,” you managed, though the words came out weak, shaky.

“No,” he agreed, pulling back just enough to look at you. His gaze was dark, filled with something you didn’t dare name. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want it.”

The words hung between you, heavy and charged, as he leaned in again, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that left no room for argument. And though your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, your body betrayed you, pulling him closer instead.

His hand slowly trailed to the hem of your sweatpants, lightly tugging on the strap, you flinched when his cold hand suddenly went under your boxers. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this– Su-an might-” you were interrupted with his other hand covering your mouth.

“Hush now, this room is soundproof,” he merely stated before harshly pulling your pants and boxers down with one tug. He then picked you up and placed you on the desk, pushing aside all the files and paper, which now seemed so insignificant.

“You’re hard. Are you still telling me you don’t want this?” He questions, his warm breath fanning your ear. You shuddered at the feeling, not knowing what to say, or what to do.

Before you could form words, he wraps his hand around your aching cock which was standing erect, partly due to the cool air, and partly due to what was happening.

His movements were minimal, slowly moving his hand along your shaft, while his other hand fetched a packet of lube from his back pocket. Where he managed to get that, you couldn’t tell.

He ripped the packet with his teeth, and spread the substance all over his fingers, before swiftly flipping you over, so that your ass was facing him.

Before you could utter a word of process, he had slipped a lubed finger in you. A wanton moan left your mouth at the sudden intrusion. 

“Fuck–don’t stop, please,” the man only smirked at this, slowly sliding in another finger, and then another. Three of his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, and oh, it felt heavenly. His other hand held you up just a bit, to keep you from falling off the study desk.

Your hands gripped onto the desk, frantically trying to keep yourself upright, but to no avail. You kept slumping off, the pleasure being too overwhelming.

“Stay still for me pet, that’s it–good boy,” the praise went straight to your dick, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Soon, the man determined that you had been prepped enough, and removed his fingers. You whined at the sudden emptiness, wanting to feel full once more.

He stared at your twitching hole, clenching around nothing. The sight did nothing but turn him on even more.

He removed his belt and cast it aside, while tugging down his pants and boxers with a sense of urgency. He easily flipped you over with his strong arms, now getting a clear view of your already fucked-out face.

He merely grinned, and before you could respond, he slid into your awaiting hole. You gasped at the intrusion, the head of his cock bullying its way into your hole. He groaned feeling the way you clenched around his length.

Without waiting for you to adjust, he fucked into you like an animal in heat, holding your legs in such a way that your knees where at your shoulders.

The new angle made his length hit your prostate with every thrust, making your head fall back on the table, a loud moan leaving your lips.

 The man was savouring every single reaction, every little noise you made. “Such a sweet little thing,” he cooed. “Can’t even keep a straight head while getting fucked, hm?”

The only thing that left your mouth was a string of garbled noises. Your brain had quite literally turned to mush with how well he was fucking you.

Soon, you felt your orgasm wash over you like a waterfall, but the man didn’t stop. Instead, he fucked into you harder, a bulge forming in your stomach with every thrust.

He lightly pressed on the bulge, which made you squeal– the overstimulation doing too much to your head.

He kept rutting into you until he felt his climax. When it came, his thrusts slowly started to stutter. Without warning he emptied his load in you, painting your gummy walls white.

He kept you on the desk, without pulling out as you whimpered, feeling so, so full.

With your mind in such a disarrayed state, you didn’t notice him slip a small ring onto your finger.

“Now you can’t leave me–or Su-an, ever. Poor thing needs a mother after all.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Not me starting a horror book at 6am while I have anxiety...

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[apatheticsunday]

Dead Tired College AU

AKA "Danny Fenton and Tim Drake go to college at Gotham-U together" headcanon!!

Maybe Danny moved to Gotham to avoid his parents finding out about Phantom and Tim is a part-time college student trying to get his business degree so people stop accusing Bruce Wayne of nepotism after Tim inherited WE. (It absolutely still is, but at least this way Tim is at least somewhat more qualified on paper.)

Anyways, they both took Anthropology as their humanities/pre-requisite elective and they're discussing death rituals, afterlife, etc. Now imagine Danny, officially Half-Dead, and Tim, who's brothers (Jason and Damian) literally died, getting into a heated discussion about spirits.

I also find the idea of them arguing via fucking Canvas (or whatever discussion forum/platform Gotham-U uses) so, so funny.

Imagine it's like 3am;

Danny, insomniac, been awake for 42 hours and popping melatonin gummies like gummy bears, furiously typing: i'm literally THE KING of infinite realms?? i know what i'm talking about, i fucking died

Tim, also been awake for 42 hours, chugging an energy drink, sending a response in 0.2 seconds: Half of Gotham has died at some point. You're not special, dumbass.

Give me "group of scientists losing their minds and climbing over the table to assault one another during scientific conference" vibes!!

And then they get paired up to do a group presentation (and Brad, who they ignore because they're both Experts, so this poor frat dude just slowly sinks into his chair between two sleep-deprived maniacs screaming at each other in the library). But Tim notices something weird about Danny, aside from his insane views on afterlife. Danny... glows? And sometimes doesn't really touch the floor when he walks. They're going to get coffee (so they can keep arguing debating, obviously, not because they enjoy each other's company or anything), and Tim watches as Danny just kind of... floats. Like, he's still walking but he's not really touching the ground.

Danny's hands are also super cold. Tim knows this because he grabbed Danny's hands once or twice (or more) to do... something, idk. But since his hands were so cold, Tim figured he should probably keep holding them; y'know, to warm them up.

And when Tim leans in to ask a question or insult him, Danny's breath comes out almost like a mist. Visibly white, like exhaling a hot breath in winter. Which... what. Holy shit, is his presentation partner actually sort of dead??

Danny, on the other hand, has no idea that Tim doesn't know. He literally said he died? And Tim took it so well, snarked back that he's not special - it was so nice to just feel normal. So he lets his guard down a bit. Maybe isn't as tangible, maybe is a bit more floaty, lets his body temperature drop enough to be comfortable. Doesn't put a whole lot of effort into making himself look so alive (because it's really tiring to pretend to be something you're not) when it's just him and Tim because Tim already knows, right?

They could be friends or they could be more! Whatever floats your boat.

But I could totally see Danny squinting at Tim holding his hand, remembering how Tim bought his favorite coffee, saved him a spot a the library, constantly texted him (because, c'mon, Tim is a bit obsessive and you don't think he'd be texting his new "friend ;)" every minute he has the chance?), and always leaned in super close to "ask a question"...and be like, are we flirting?? Oh, Hells, am I into him??

For plot reasons, Danny could be like, "I can't tell Tim I like him! What if I ruin our friendship? It'll be my secret."

And then, one day, Tim is like, "Hey, I know you're keeping something from me. I think I know what it is." And Danny's like ohshitohfuck. This cumulates into them saying, at the same time, I know you're a ghost and I have a crush on you.

Tim and Danny: *shocked Pikachu face*

Then, Danny's like, "I can't believe I have a crush on a fucking idiot."

[therealmylesmorales]

Don’t Take It Personal

Summary: you’re a little worried about how much time Vi is spending with her new friend

Part 2

Warnings: vi’s kind of a dumbass, ngl. Angst probably. R plays a sport for the plot (just vibe guys) loser!vi au

WC: 1.6k

Vi made a new friend.

That was a rare feat for her, seeing how out of the few people she considers a friend included you, her girlfriend, and Jinx, her sister.

She came home beaming after her usual workout at the gym. There was a new face she didn’t recognize and to Vi’s surprise, the friendly chat turned into a new friendship.

Her name was Caitlyn Kiramman. You knew her name, seeing the title “Kiramman” around a few buildings. Caitlyn was studying abroad for a few months, hence why Vi didn’t meet her until now. And yet, the new friendship was blossoming quickly. You didn’t mind, just happy that she managed to make more friends without you being present.

That was until Vi started hanging out with her more than you.

Srry, babe cant make it. At the gym wth Cait 💪🏻

11:23am

You frowned a bit at the recent text Vi sent you. You were at the library waiting for her for your weekly study date but when she was almost half an hour late you finally texted her. Only for your girlfriend to take a raincheck. Again.

Seeing how Vi wasn’t showing up, you still decided to stay for at least another hour; work still needed to be done with or without her. When you did decide to leave, you had to pass by the gym in order to go home. You figured Vi was still inside so you didn’t bother to linger until you heard a familiar voice.

”I’ll see you around, cupcake!”

Cupcake?

You turned to see Vi and Caitlyn leaving the large building. Vi immediately saw you and rushed over to you. Caitlyn gave you a polite wave before going her own way.

She was calling her ‘cupcake.’ You felt a little irritated at the—at your— nickname Vi called Caitlyn. Granted, ‘cupcake’ wasn’t one that was used very often, only when Vi was teasing or being purposely irritating to you. But still. It was your name.

Pushing the negative feelings aside you greeted Vi with a kiss. She smiled into it then pulled you into a tight hug, her arms almost crushing you.

”You stick, Vi,” you muttered into her neck.

A soft laugh escaped her. “You enjoy it. What are you doing here?”

”Going home. Then I saw you and…cupcake.”

”Don’t be like that,” Vi groaned, trying to play it off. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Never said you did.” You tried to change the subject, not wanting to make it a big deal. “Are you going to my game Friday or are you going to be too busy with Caitlyn. It’s the last one of the season, Vi.”

“Hey, have I ever missed a game before?” She asked rhetorically. ”But if it makes you feel better, I promise that I’ll be there.”

”Good.”

Vi then wrapped her arm around you, putting you in an almost headlock, and started walking in the direction of the same apartment. “Let’s go. I’m exhausted.”

While what Vi said did ease some of you worrying, it didn’t stay for long. For the rest of the week, Vi was still with Caitlyn. Even though you attended most of the same classes, and stayed in the same home, you only saw her in passing or for only an hour at night. And every word that came out of her mouth was about the other girl.

“I really think you’ll like Cait, she reminds me of you.”

“Caitlyn squatted 210 today! She’s catching up to me.”

”I’m sorry, baby. Cait and I made plans to see that movie. You can still come!” You hate to admit it but that comment made you pissed off more than anything.

Caitlyn, Caitlyn, Caitlyn. You haven’t even properly met the girl yet it seemed like you knew everything about her.

When Friday finally came, you just hoped Vi would pay more attention to you rather than her friend. Unfortunately, you were proven wrong.

Hey, pretty, the game is starting soon. Are you still coming?

6:37pm

Yoooo Viiii??

7:01pm

Violet, dude, where are you??

7:15pm

Your leg tapped nervously against the ground, scanning the crowd for the familiar pink haired girl, but you came up dry. In the crowd you could see Jayce, Viktor and Mel who all gave you encouraging smiles. Even Jinx showed up, sitting next to Ekko. She gave you a small shrug at your questioning glance before turning back to your phone, possibly texting her sister.

The coach got your attention, urging you to join your teammates on the court. And with a heavy, disappointed sigh, you got up from the bench. You couldn’t focus on Vi anymore, but you still hoped that she would show up sometime during the game. She did promise after all.

But throughout the game, that familiar full head of pink hair was nowhere to be seen. There was an empty spot next to Jinx that was never filled. Trying to ignore the wide open space was almost impossible, but the game was won without Vi cheering for you. Sure, the ball did slip from your hands more times than you’d like to admit, but your team won.

Your friends that did decide to show up wanted to take you out for the rest of the night, a congratulatory dinner, but you weren’t feeling it. And while Jinx doesn’t like saying the word no, she surprisingly let you go home after you refused. You really just wanted to see if or when Vi would be home.

It was nearing nine at night and Vi still hadn’t called you and your recent text went unanswered. The TV was playing a show, mostly used as background noise as your thoughts took over you.

Almost thirty minutes later, you could hear some noise coming from the hallway.

The door to the apartment opened and you could hear Vi humming a song to herself when she locked up for the night. From your spot on the couch, you saw nothing wrong with her so you were glad to know she was safe. But now she had to dig herself out of the hole she dug.

Vi actually seemed surprised to see you but the smile she gave you was instant. “Oh, hey, babe. Why are you still up?”

”Waiting for you,” you shot back, moving to get closer to her. “It’s been hours Vi, we all have been calling and texting you—“

Vi showed you her phone, a black screen staring back at you. “It died a while ago. What’s with the third degree?”

”Do you remember what day it is?”

”Um…the tenth?”

”Um, maybe it’s the day of my game that you’d promise to come to,” you mocked. Yeah, you were being petty but you thought she deserved it.

Vi muttered a small curse to herself and she looked genuinely apologetic. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I swear, I was going to come but then my phone died, and-and I was with Caitlyn and—“

A heavy sigh escaped you at the name. “Caitlyn, right yeah. That makes sense.”

A look came on Vi’s face, one you knew too well when she was about to become argumentative. “What are you talking about?”

”You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, Vi,” you pointed out. “I’ve noticed it— we all have. You’re always with her.”

”We’re friends!”

”You’re friends with Jayce but when’s the last time you’ve hung out with him since meeting Caitlyn? Is she too rich for chargers so you couldn’t check your phone for five minutes?”

Vi scoffed at you. “What, you want me to stop hanging out with Caitlyn just because you’re jealous?”

”I have nothing to be jealous of, Violet!” You yelled. “Cait’s a friend, I get that. But you have been blowing me off time and time again for her. And the one time I actually needed you, you were with her instead. How the hell do you expect me to feel?”

A short pause came from Violet. And what she said next, set your skin aflame.

”I just think you’re overreacting. It’s a fucking game, I’ll just watch the next one.”

“Okay, you know what,” you paused, running your hands over your face; it didn’t do much to calm your heated nerves. “I’m not doing this with you, right now, Vi.”

Vi’s tense posture immediately changed at the tone of your voice; it was shaky, as if you were holding back tears. You almost never cried, at least in front of her, so the new sight was worrisome. She heard you breath in harshly before continuing.

“I’m way too upset at you right now to even finish this conversation,” you said quietly to her. “I’m tired…and honestly just want some space from you.”

Vi swore her heart stopped at those words. Space? “You…Y/N, you can’t be serious.” Space was the main thing Vi hated. It meant you leaving her.

”I am, actually.” Your back was turned from her at that point so you couldn’t see her face fall in disbelief at the sight of you getting ready to leave the apartment.

She knew you made up your mind and were done hearing her but Vi still had to try. “Babe, don’t go. You’re right, is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry, alright?”

”Glad you came to your senses,” you muttered, albeit bitterly.

Vi was desperate at this point. “You don’t have to leave! I can sleep out here!”

”When I said ‘space’, Vi, I meant completely,” you said. Your voice was starting to get tense, a tell that you were getting annoyed. “My parents live a few minutes away, remember? I'll be fine.”

”Y/N please, just—“

“Vi! I’ll…talk to you eventually,” was the last thing you said before the door closed behind you.

[ch0llies]

FOREVER NOW | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

You and Chris have been tied together by an invisible string ever since you met at 10. As you grew older, Chris became your safe place. He was always there, unknowingly shaping himself into the person you’d eventually fall in love with. By the time you were 18, you had become each other’s first everything- first kiss, first love, first promise that neither of you could ever belong to anyone else the way you belonged to each other. And now, standing in the bathroom with ten pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, that promise felt heavier than ever.

story warnings: fluff, smut, creampie, heavy breeding kink, pregnancy, established relationship, etc… if any of these topics upset you… don’t read!

word count: 6k

a/n: thank you so much for 1k followers!! i love you all so much!!

The rain taps gently against the window. Your shared apartment is dimly lit, warm, filled with the faint trace of Chris’s cologne- the kind of smell that feels like home, like safety.

Chris is beside you on the couch, one arm draped lazily over your legs, his other hand scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. The TV plays some old movie in the background, half-forgotten.

Your fingers trace small circles on his forearm, the soft fabric of his hoodie warmed by his skin. He hums in contentment, shifting just enough to glance at you.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asks, voice soft, familiar.

You smile, but your mind is elsewhere, caught in the years before this moment. Because this love didn’t start here.

It started long before.

FIFTH GRADE.

You met Chris at ten years old, standing awkwardly in the doorway of your parents’ friend’s house.

“This is Chris,” your mom said, nudging you forward.

He had messy brown hair, an oversized hoodie, and a smile that made you think he probably got in trouble at school a lot.

He gave you a shy nod. “Hi.”

You stared for a moment, then mumbled, “Hi.”

The adults left you alone, and somehow, within an hour, you were arguing over who could beat who in Bedwars. By the time your parents came back, you were already thick as thieves, plotting some grand scheme to get extra dessert at dinner.

From that day on you couldn’t remember a memory that he wasn’t in.

EIGHTH GRADE

You learned that heartbreak could come before high school.

There was a boy- your first real crush. He was charming, sweet, made you feel special. Until, suddenly, he didn’t.

You found out from a friend that he had been texting someone else the entire time. That everything he said to you, he said to her too.

Chris found you at the park that night, sitting on the swings, kicking at the dirt, trying not to cry.

He sat next to you without a word. Just there. Present. Until you were ready.

“I really liked him,” you admitted eventually, voice small.

Chris scoffed. “Yeah, well, he’s an idiot.”

You sniffled, glancing at him. “You think?”

Chris nodded firmly. “Obviously. He had you and still wanted someone else? That’s just stupid.”

Something about the way he said it, so certain, made your heart feel just a little lighter.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the first time Chris made you feel like you were worth more than the people who hurt you.

It wouldn’t be the last.

JUNIOR YEAR.

Prom was supposed to be perfect.

Instead, your date cheated. Chris’s date bailed.

And somehow, you ended up at prom together- dressed up, but ditching the actual dance for a late-night drive, fast food in hand, sitting on the hood of his car in the school parking lot.

“You think we’re cursed?” you joked, pulling a fry from the bag.

Chris smirked, leaning back on his palms. “Or maybe we just keep picking the wrong people.”

You glanced at him then- at the way the Boston lights reflected in his eyes, at the way he always showed up when no one else did.

For a moment, you almost said something. Almost realized something.

But instead, you just smiled. “Guess we’re each other’s backup plan now, huh?”

Chris had looked down at his feet and let out an almost sad sounding chuckle, “Guess so.”

But he didn’t feel like a backup plan.

Not even then.

SENIOR YEAR.

It wasn’t sudden.

It wasn’t a grand, dramatic moment where everything clicked into place.

It was gradual. Like the slow rising of the sun, creeping into your life until one day, you realized- he had always been the light.

Chris had always been there. Through every heartbreak, through every bad decision, through every night spent crying over people who didn’t deserve you.

And then one day, you just knew.

It was late, past midnight, the two of you lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, laughing about something dumb, something unimportant. And then the laughter faded, and suddenly, the air felt different.

Chris was looking at you. Really looking at you.

And for the first time, you didn’t look away.

Your heartbeat quickened. You swallowed.

“Chris.”

He shifted, his fingers barely brushing against yours between the sheets. “Yeah?”

You took a breath.

“I- I think it’s always been you.”

Silence.

His breath hitched, but his fingers curled around yours, holding tight.

“I-” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “God, I was scared to say it first.”

Your chest ached, but for the first time, it wasn’t painful. It was full.

You smiled, biting your lip. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes soft, full of something you had been searching for in everyone else but only ever found in him.

And then he kissed you.

And everything made sense.

Back in the apartment, Chris shifts beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmurs.

You shake your head, smiling softly. “Just remembering.”

He hums. “Good memories?”

“The best.”

Chris tilts his head, studying you. “Wanna share?”

You turn to face him, meeting the gaze of the boy who had always been there, who had never let you go.

The rain outside is still steady and you let your head rest against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Safe. Home.

“You ever think about soulmates?” you ask, voice quiet but certain.

Chris smirks, locking his phone and setting it aside. “Yeah.”

You lift a brow, tilting your head to look up at him. “Oh really? Always been me?”

He chuckles, low and warm, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaning back against the couch. “Yes, my love. Always been you.”

Your heart swells. Even after all these years, hearing it still makes something in your chest ache in the best way.

Chris shifts, pulling you even closer, wrapping his arms around you completely, tucking your head under his chin. You sigh against his hoodie, breathing him in, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his thigh.

For a while, you just exist like that- wrapped up in each other, listening to the rain, the outside world feeling so far away.

Then Chris hums. “What do you wanna do for dinner?”

You tilt your head, thinking. “What about some PF Chang’s?”

His face lights up. “That sounds incredible.”

You grin, watching as he grabs his phone and pulls up DoorDash, immediately placing the order without hesitation. Because it’s the city, and neither of you want to go out in the rain when food can be delivered straight to your door.

When the food arrives, you both sit on the couch, containers spread out on the coffee table. You grab a pair of chopsticks, but Chris, like always, opts for a fork, shooting you a smug look like he’s superior for it.

“You’re so uncultured,” you tease, grabbing a dumpling.

Chris snorts. “I just don’t like fighting for my food.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it- just warmth, just love.

As you eat, the conversation shifts to your future, like it always does.

“What about baby names?” Chris muses, stealing a bite of your lo mein like it’s his. “What do you like?”

You smirk. “You planning on knocking me up tonight or something?”

Chris smirks. “Definitely planning on fuckin’ you but, getting you pregnant? We’ll see.”

You shrug nonchalantly, picking up a garlic noodle with your chopstick. “I still want you to cum inside me tonight regardless.”

He chokes on his food, coughing as he glares at you. “Jesus, give me a warning before you say stuff like that. I’m gonna get hard.”

You laugh, nudging his shoulder. “I’m serious, though. You ever think about it? Baby names, becoming parents, getting me pregnant…?

Chris swallows, setting his container down before shifting to look at you fully. His expression softens, thoughtful. “Yeah,” he admits. “I have.”

You raise a brow. “And?”

He smirks. “You first.”

You sigh dramatically, leaning back into the couch, pretending to think. “I like the name Owen for a boy,” you say eventually. “And maybe Elliot for a girl. Her nickname would be Ellie”

Chris nods. “Owen? That’s my middle name. But Ellie is really cute. I like that.”

“Yeah, goof. It would be named after you, handsome. But what about you?”

He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand as he blushes softly. “I’ve always liked the name Weston for a boy,” he says, glancing at you. “And for a girl… maybe Aria.”

You smile. “Aria is cute.”

Chris nudges you. “So, our kid’s name is either Owen, Ellie, Weston, or Aria. Got it.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart swells anyway. “I can’t imagine having a kid anytime soon.”

Chris grins, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “No rush,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder. “We’ve got time.”

You melt into him, fingers threading through his hair.

“Okay, more future talk,” he says after a moment. “Houses. Where do we end up?”

You hum. “Do you wanna stay in Boston?”

Chris tilts his head. “I like Boston, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter. Maybe something coastal? A place where we can sit on the porch and watch the sunrise. What about my family's cape house?”

You smile. “That sounds perfect.”

Chris grins, tapping his fingers lightly against your back. “Can you imagine being as a full time suburban dad?”

You snicker. “Hard to imagine you giving up city life and inheriting Matt’s minivan to truck our kids around.”

Chris groans. “Please never let me get that goddamn minivan.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Deal.”

The remnants of dinner are still scattered across the coffee table- half-empty takeout containers, crumpled napkins, chopsticks resting haphazardly in cartons, four empty pepsi cans. Chris groans, stretching his arms before nudging you with his knee.

“You ready to clean this up?” he asks, though he doesn’t look like he wants to move any more than you do.

You sigh dramatically, leaning back against the couch. “Or… we could just leave it here and deal with it in the morning.”

Chris snorts. “No way. You hate waking up to a mess.”

You grumble, knowing he’s right. “Fine. But you’re taking out the trash.”

“Deal.”

The two of you move in sync, cleaning up without much thought- him stacking the containers, you wiping down the table. Domesticity has always been easy with Chris, effortless in a way that feels like breathing. It’s not something you ever have to think about; it just is.

Once the apartment is back in order, you stretch, letting out a soft yawn.

Chris grins, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin against your shoulder. “Bed?”

“Yes.”

You slip into the bathroom while Chris grabs water for both of you. The space is warm, the soft yellow glow of the vanity lights reflecting off the marble. You change into one of your favorite comfy outfits- an oversized, faded navy sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the thin strap of your lace bralette underneath, paired with soft gray Calvin Klein boyshorts that hug your hips just right.

The fabric of the sweatshirt nearly swallows you, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs, the sleeves hanging just past your wrists. It smells like detergent, a little like Chris, a little like the home you’ve built together.

By the time you start brushing your teeth, Chris enters, setting the water bottles on the counter before glancing at you in the mirror.

His eyes darken immediately, lips parting slightly as he takes you in- the way the sweatshirt slips off your shoulder, the way your shorts sit snug on your curves.

“You trying to kill me, baby?” he mutters, voice thick.

You smirk around your toothbrush. “I just put on something comfortable.”

Chris shakes his head, stepping closer behind you, his hands skimming the edge of the sweatshirt before resting low on your hips. “Yeah? This is comfortable?”

You nod, watching his gaze flick between your reflection and the way his hands trace slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

You fumble your phone, and it slips from the counter, landing with a soft thud on the floor.

You sigh through your toothbrush, bending over to grab it.

And that’s when you hear it.

A sharp inhale. The softest curse under Chris’s breath.

“Fuck, baby.”

Before you can straighten, his hands slide over your hips, firm but reverent. One palm presses against the small of your back, the other smoothing over your ass, fingers flexing as if he can’t help himself.

You swallow hard, heat creeping up your spine as you grip the sink for balance.

Chris leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You still up for that promise, baby?” His voice is low, gravelly, dripping with want.

Your breath hitches. “What promise?” you ask, playing coy.

Chris chuckles, dark and knowing, his fingers pressing a little more insistently into your skin. “The one where you let me cum inside you.”

Your heart pounds, the weight of his words sending a shiver down your spine. You meet his gaze in the mirror, and the heat in his eyes makes your knees weak.

Chris smirks, running his hands up your sides before spinning you to face him fully. His fingers slide under the hem of your sweatshirt, gripping your waist as he pulls you closer.

“You still want that?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours.

Your answer is immediate.

“Yes.”

Chris’s smirk deepens, satisfaction flickering in his darkened gaze. His grip tightens just enough to make you shiver, his fingertips pressing into your skin like he wants to leave his mark there.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, teasing, as he drags his hands over your hips, his thumbs tracing lazy circles. “You want me to fill you up, make sure you feel me long after, huh?”

You swallow, pulse hammering against your ribs. There’s no hesitation when you nod, your breath hitching as his lips graze yours- featherlight, just enough to tease.

Chris hums, his hands sliding lower, squeezing your ass before lifting you onto the counter with ease. His body slots between your legs, firm and unyielding. He keeps you there, locked in place, his forehead resting against yours.

“Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough with want.

Your fingers tangle in his hoodie, pulling him impossibly closer, your legs tightening around his waist.

“I want it, Chris,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his. “I want you to cum inside me.”

A sharp inhale from him, and then his mouth crashes onto yours, all heat and hunger. His fingers slide under your sweatshirt again, this time with purpose, exploring, claiming.

“Shit, baby,” he groans against your lips, his hands pushing higher, tugging at your clothes.

He doesn’t waste another second. His hands slip beneath your thighs, gripping firmly as he lifts you off the counter with effortless strength. Your arms loop around his neck instinctively, your breath coming in short, heated bursts as he carries you through the dimly lit apartment.

The air between you is thick, charged, every step he takes toward the bedroom making your anticipation coil tighter. His lips find your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat as he nudges the bedroom door open with his foot.

By the time he lays you down on the bed, your body is already burning for him. Chris hovers over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, his darkened blue eyes devouring every inch of you.

“Been wanting to do this all night,” he murmurs, fingers dipping under the hem of your sweatshirt again, this time pushing it up with agonizing slowness. “Take my time with you.”

Your stomach tightens as he peels the fabric over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His gaze drinks you in, lingering on your bare skin, the way your chest rises and falls beneath him.

“Ma,” he breathes, his hands already roaming again, thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You reach for his hoodie, fingers curling around the hem as you tug. “Then take this off,” you whisper, your voice breathless, needy.

Chris smirks but obliges, pulling it over his head and letting it drop to the floor. His toned chest and arms are bare now, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting shadows over the ridges of his muscles.

Your hands roam over his skin, tracing along his collarbones and his happy trail. He watches you with dark, hooded eyes, his breathing heavy as he slides his hands down your body, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“These too,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire, as he hooks his fingers into them, dragging them down your legs inch by inch. The sensation sends a shiver through you, every inch of your exposed skin burning under his touch.

Once your shorts are gone, Chris kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands smoothing over your thighs as he leans down, pressing slow, lingering kisses to your soft and wet cunt. His lips trail higher towards your clit, teasing, making your breath hitch.

Then, just when you think you might combust, he pulls back, standing to his full height.

Your eyes lock onto his as he unbuttons his jeans, dragging the zipper down slowly. He doesn’t look away- not as he pushes them past his hips, not as they fall to the floor, leaving him in just his boxers, the evidence of his desire straining against the fabric.

“Your turn,” you whisper, eyes flicking to the last piece of clothing between you.

Chris smirks, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pushing them down.

Chris lets his boxers drop to the floor, kicking them aside before crawling back over you, his body warm and solid against yours. His hands find your thighs, spreading them wider as he settles between them, his weight pressing into you in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Yeahhhh,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, down the column of your throat. “You’re so fucking perfect. Every single inch of you.” His hands roam your body like he’s memorizing you all over again, tracing over your curves, his thumbs brushing against your hip bones.

You shudder under his touch, gripping onto his shoulders, needing something to anchor you. Chris smirks against your skin, his lips pressing sloppy kisses over your collarbone, then lower, taking his time.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he whispers, his breath hot against your peaked nipples. “Never get tired of touching you, tasting you… fucking filling you up.”

Your breath stutters, heat pooling low in your stomach at his words. His hands slide down, gripping your hips firmly, fingers pressing possessively into your skin.

“You love that, don’t you?” he murmurs, tilting his head to watch your reaction. “Love knowing I wanna fill you up every time. Keep you like this-” he grinds his hips against you, slow and deliberate, making you gasp. “So full of me.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and Chris groans, rolling his hips again, teasing you, making your body arch into his.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough, edged with need. “Tell me you want it, baby.”

Your head tilts back against the pillows, a whimper slipping from your lips. “I want it, Chris,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Want you to fill me up.”

Chris growls low in his throat, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips ghosting over yours. “Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs. “You know that? The way you say it… the way you look at me like that. I swear, I could spend every fucking day buried inside you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your body tightening in anticipation. His fingers trail down, teasing, testing your patience.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asks, voice thick, teasing as his eyes flick up to meet yours. “You want it that bad?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets. “I need you, Chris.”

Chris groans, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to line himself up, swiping his cock a few times through your built up arousal. His gaze locks onto yours, intense, unwavering.

“Then take it,” he murmurs. “Take all of me.”

Chris doesn’t hold back. He pushes in slowly at first, savoring the way your body reacts to him, how you gasp and clutch at his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. His jaw clenches as he watches you, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with need.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead against yours. “You feel so good, baby. Always so fucking perfect for me.”

Your breath stutters, your nails dragging down his back as he sinks deeper, filling you inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, a slow burn that makes your head spin, and Chris eats up every little sound you make, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. He leans back just enough to watch your expression, his hands roaming over your tits and cupping them, mapping every inch of you. “You take me so fucking well. Every time.”

Your head tilts back, a moan slipping from your lips as he rolls his hips, setting a slow, deep rhythm. Chris groans at the feeling, his fingers pressing into your skin like he never wants to let go.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, kissing along your jaw, down to your throat. “Let me in- let me fill you up just the way you need.”

His pace quickens just a little, his control hanging by a thread as he watches you come undone beneath him. Every thrust pushes him deeper, making you gasp, your body arching into his.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. “So fucking tight, so warm- like you were made for me.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, your lips parting in a desperate gasp as he hits the perfect spot inside you. Chris feels it, sees the way your body responds, and it makes something primal snap inside him.

“That’s the spot, huh?” he murmurs, a smirk playing at his lips even as his own breath is ragged. “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna let me fill you up like you need?”

“Chris,” you whimper, your body tightening around him, heat coiling low in your stomach.

“Say it,” he growls, his thrusts getting rougher, more desperate. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you need me to cum inside you.”

Your back arches, pleasure crashing over you in waves as your orgasm hits and you squeeze him impossibly tight. “I need it- I need you to fill me up, Chris. So bad.”

He groans, his grip on you tightening as he thrusts harder, deeper, chasing his release. “F- fuck, baby, I’m gonna- ” His breath shudders, his movements getting sloppier as he buries himself as deep as he can, his body tensing.

A guttural moan tears from his lips as he spills inside you, holding you tight, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. His breathing is heavy, his body trembling slightly from the intensity of it, and he presses lazy kisses against your skin as he comes down.

“Shit,” he breathes, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you flush against him. “I swear, I’ll never get tired of this. Never get tired of you.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, running your fingers through his hair, still coming down from your own high.

Chris doesn’t move for a moment, still catching his breath, his body heavy and warm against yours. But then, as if something clicks in his mind, he shifts, gripping your hips with both hands.

Without warning, he pushes your hips up, angling them just enough to keep every drop of his cum inside you. You whimper at the sudden movement, your body still sensitive, your legs trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Chris- fuck.” you murmur, a dazed little laugh slipping from your lips, “what are you doing?”

His fingers press into your skin, his grip firm, possessive. His darkened blue eyes flick down to where you’re still connected, then back up to your face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Making sure it stays,” he murmurs, voice rough, teasing but laced with something deeper, something almost primal.

Your breath catches. “I thought you didn’t want me to get pregnant.”

Chris doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans down, pressing kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips lingering, his hands still keeping your hips in place.

“I never said that,” he finally murmurs, his voice husky, “maybe I like the idea more than I let on.”

Your heart stutters. Heat blooms in your chest, pooling low in your stomach again despite how spent you already are. Chris tilts his head, watching your reaction closely, his smirk deepening as he sees the way his words affect you.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” he teases, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “You’re the one who begged me to cum inside you.”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you actually wanted-”

Chris cuts you off with a slow roll of his hips, just enough to remind you he’s still inside you, still keeping everything right where he wants it. You gasp, your fingers gripping his arms.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he murmurs. “You know how fucking good it feels. How right it feels.” His lips graze your ear. “Tell me you don’t love it.”

You swallow hard, your pulse hammering. “I do,” you whisper.

Chris smirks against your skin, his hands tightening on your hips. “That’s my girl,” he breathes. “And who knows… maybe one day, I won’t just be filling you up for fun. Maybe one of these days I’ll fuck a baby into you.”

Your stomach flips, your whole body flushing at his words. Chris just chuckles, his expression dark and full of satisfaction as he kisses you again- slow, deep, claiming.

“But for now,” he murmurs, letting his weight settle over you again, his hands still holding you in place, “we’ll just make sure it sticks.”

Chris finally releases his hold on your hips, letting you relax into the mattress, though he doesn’t pull away just yet. He presses a few lingering kisses against your shoulder, his hands smoothing over your sides as he breathes you in.

“You good?” he murmurs, his voice warm and tender now, the teasing edge from before softened.

You nod, still catching your breath, your body pleasantly sore in the best way. “Yeah… just feel like I can’t move.”

Chris chuckles, rolling off of you but staying close. “Guess I did my job right, then.” He smirks, but before you can throw a pillow at him, he leans in, brushing his lips over your forehead. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”

He helps you up, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as you both make your way to the bathroom. He’s gentle as he runs a warm washcloth over your skin, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your shoulders, wherever he can reach. It’s such a contrast from the heat of earlier, but it makes your heart swell all the same.

Once you’re both cleaned up, you slip on one of Chris’s hoodies- something oversized and soft- and climb into bed. Chris follows, pulling you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as he buries his face in your hair.

“Love you,” he mumbles sleepily, his lips brushing against your temple.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Love you too, Chris.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

You groan, dropping your forehead against the kitchen counter as another wave of nausea rolls through you. “Ugh, I feel awful.”

Chris looks up from where he’s leaning against the fridge, brows furrowing with concern. “Still feeling sick, baby?”

You nod, rubbing your stomach with a frown. “Yeah… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep feeling nauseous at the most random times. And I swear, I smelled coffee earlier, and it made me want to throw up.”

Chris winces, stepping closer and rubbing a hand up and down your back soothingly. “I’m so sorry, baby. Can I do anything?”

You shake your head, sighing. “I don’t even know what would help. It’s just been happening out of nowhere.”

Chris presses a kiss to the side of your head, his touch warm and comforting. “Maybe you just ate something bad? Or you’re stressed?”

“Maybe,” you mumble, but you’re not entirely convinced. “Are you sure the chicken last night was fully cooked?”

“I check it twice. It was.” Chris gives you a sympathetic look. “Tell you what- I’ll make you some tea, and then we can just chill on the couch, yeah? I’ll rub your back, we can watch whatever dumb reality show you wanna put on.”

That makes you smile a little, and you nod. “Okay. That sounds nice. Thank you baby.”

Chris grins, pressing another kiss to your forehead before heading to the kettle. “Anything for my girl.”

ONE WEEK LATER

You groan as you lean over the bathroom sink, splashing cold water on your face in a desperate attempt to shake off the lingering nausea. It’s been happening every morning now- like clockwork. And as much as you’d been hoping it was just a stomach bug or something that would pass, it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Baby?” Chris’s voice is groggy, laced with sleep as he steps into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the counter. “Same as yesterday. And the day before that.”

Chris frowns, stepping closer, his hands settling on your waist as he looks you over. His touch is warm and grounding, but when his thumbs brush against your sides, you wince subconsciously.

Chris notices immediately, his brows drawing together. “Hey… why’d you flinch?”

You shake your head, still trying to wake up fully. “I didn’t-” But then his hands slide up a little higher, skimming under your hoodie, and the moment his thumbs brush against the curve of your breasts, you jolt.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Whoa. Okay. That was a reaction.”

You frown, stepping back slightly, your arms crossing over your chest. “They’ve just been… weirdly sensitive lately.”

Chris tilts his head, his gaze flicking down before his lips curl into the smallest smirk. “Not to mention…” His hands return to your sides, his touch slow, almost hesitant. “Baby, I swear to God, they look bigger. Like huge. It makes me so horny.”

You scoff. “Chris!”

“I’m serious!” He gives you a pointed look, stepping back just enough to take you in. “They’re… I don’t know, plumper? And you’ve been nauseous for over a week. You’re throwing up every morning. You don’t think…?”

You blink at him, brows furrowing. “Think what?”

Chris’s expression shifts- something between excitement and pure realization flickering across his face. He licks his lips, searching your eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for you to catch up.

“Baby,” he says slowly, carefully, “you don’t think you could be… pregnant?”

The words hang between you, heavy and thick in the quiet morning air. Your stomach twists- but not from nausea this time.

Your lips part slightly, a small laugh slipping out- almost disbelieving. “Chris, there’s no way…” But then, as you say it, the last few weeks flash through your mind. The exhaustion. The cravings. The nausea. The sensitivity. The way you haven’t used a condom with him in months and he hasn’t been pulling out.

Chris watches you closely, his smirk fading into something softer, more serious. His hands settle on your hips again, thumbs rubbing slow circles. “Baby,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, “when’s the last time you had your period?”

Your stomach drops. Your mind races as you try to remember, but the more you think about it, the more your chest tightens. You should’ve had it by now. You always keep track. But with everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed.

Chris sees the realization hit you. His hands tighten just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. “Shit,” you whisper.

Chris lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Shit.”

You look up at him, heart pounding, eyes wide. “Chris… what if I am?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just looking at you. And then, slowly, his lips curl into a grin.

“Guess we should find out.”

Chris doesn’t waste a second. The moment the realization fully settles between you, he’s already moving. He grabs his phone and wallet off the nightstand, shoving his feet into the closest pair of sneakers.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your forehead before darting toward the front door.

You blink, still in shock. “Wait- Chris, where are you-”

But he’s already gone.

You stand there for a moment, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. This has to be a joke, right? There’s no way this is actually happening. But as you place a hand over your stomach, the reality starts creeping in.

A few minutes later, you hear the front door swing open again, followed by the unmistakable crinkle of plastic bags.

“Alright, baby, let’s do this!” Chris’s voice is practically beaming as he jogs back into the bedroom, his arms full of pregnancy tests. You stare in disbelief as he drops multiple boxes onto the bed, some falling onto the floor in the process.

“Chris,” you say slowly, eyes widening. “What the fuck is this?”

“Options,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I got every brand they had. Digital ones, line ones, ones that apparently have smiley faces-” He pauses, flipping a box over before tossing it onto the pile. “I didn’t know there were this many kinds, honestly, but we’re covering all bases.”

You shake your head, staring at the sheer amount of tests in front of you. “Ten tests, Chris?”

“At least ten,” he corrects, grinning.

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “Why are you so happy about this?”

Chris hesitates for half a second before letting out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly? I don’t know. I just… am.”

You search his face, expecting to see panic or nerves, but all you find is pure excitement- like he wants this. Like the idea of you possibly carrying his baby is something he’s already embracing.

Your stomach twists, but not in a bad way. It’s terrifying and overwhelming, but with the way he’s looking at you, it also feels… oddly okay.

Chris claps his hands together, bringing you back to reality. “Alright, let’s go. Go pee on some sticks.”

You snort despite yourself. “Some?”

“All of them,” he corrects, already scooping up the tests into his arms. “We need solid confirmation, baby. I need a goddamn unanimous decision from these things.”

Shaking your head, you exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair before turning toward the bathroom. “This is insane.”

Chris follows right behind you, grinning. “This is science.”

You roll your eyes, but as you close the bathroom door behind you, Chris leans against the sink, watching you with nothing but warmth in his gaze.

“Whatever happens,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, “we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Your chest tightens, and you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Wait! Let me see what they say first. Don’t pee on anything!” Chris rips open one of the boxes with the same energy he probably had during his high school finals. He pulls out the instructions, unfolds them with an exaggerated flourish, and clears his throat.

“Alright,” he announces, squinting at the paper. “Step one: Remove the test from the wrapper.”

You snatch a test from one of the open boxes and rip it open with ease. “Done.”

Chris nods approvingly, scanning the next step. “Step two: Hold the absorbent tip in your urine stream for five seconds. Or dip it in a cup of urine for twenty seconds.”

You give him a flat look. “Absorbent tip?”

“Hey, I’m just reading what it says,” Chris says, holding up his hands in defense. He glances down again, then smirks. “Oh- this part’s important: Make sure you don’t pee on the result window. We need a clear reading, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the groundbreaking information, Chris.”

“Just looking out for accuracy.”

You shake your head, but your heart is thudding in your chest. This is actually happening.

Chris notices your hesitation and softens slightly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Chris nods, setting the instructions down on the counter before placing his hands on your hips. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “No matter what happens, we’re in this together. Got it?”

You nod, exhaling against his chest. “Got it.”

He smiles, giving you a small squeeze before stepping back. “Alright, go do your thing. I’ll be right here, being incredibly supportive and not at all annoying.”

You snort. “Mhm.”

Chris gasps dramatically. “Wow. So much doubt for the man who just spent a ridiculous amount of money on pregnancy tests for you.”

Shaking your head, you grab the cup from the counter- because there’s no way you’re risking peeing on your own hand in the middle of a life-altering moment- and step toward the toilet. “Okay, turnaround now.”

Chris throws his hands up. “I literally fucked this baby into you?!”

“We don’t know if there’s a baby yet!” You roll your eyes but do what needs to be done, filling the cup and carefully dipping the first test. Then another. And another. You cycle through each one, following the ridiculous variety of instructions. Five seconds for one. Twenty seconds for another. One where you had to cap it immediately and lay it on a flat surface.

Chris stands by the counter, eyes wide as he watches you line up ten tests in a perfect row.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “That’s a lot of science happening at once.”

You let out a breath, setting the last test down. “Now what?”

Chris grabs one of the boxes, scanning the fine print. “Now we wait.”

You swallow hard, wiping your hands on a towel before gripping the edge of the sink. “How long?”

Chris squints at the instructions. “Three minutes.”

Three minutes.

Three minutes to find out if your whole world is about to change.

Chris must sense your nerves because he steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his lips brushing your jaw. “I can set a timer. Or we can just stare at them aggressively until something happens.”

You let out a breathy laugh, leaning back against him. “Okay… let’s do it.”

Chris’s phone is already in his hand before you even say anything. He holds it up, pressing record with a grin.

“For our future kid,” he says, his voice full of barely contained excitement.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even know if it’s positive yet.”

Chris smirks, shaking his head. “I have a feeling, baby.”

Your stomach twists as you reach for the first test. Your fingers tremble slightly, and you can feel Chris’s anticipation radiating off of him. With a deep breath, you flip it over.

Two lines.

Positive.

Your heart stops.

Chris lets out a sharp inhale, but before either of you can fully process it, you reach for the second test.

Positive.

The third.

Positive.

Every. Single. One.

Chris stares at them for half a second before a wide grin spreads across his face. “Holy shit.” His phone lowers slightly as he turns to look at you, his eyes shining. “Baby- holy shit!”

Before you can react, he grabs you, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You gasp, gripping his shoulders as a laugh bubbles out of you, your nerves momentarily forgotten.

“Chris!” You giggle, clinging to him as he twirls you.

“I knew it,” he exclaims, setting you down just enough to crash his lips against yours. The kiss is heated, desperate, but full of so much love that your chest tightens.

Then, before you even realize it, tears start slipping down your cheeks. You pull back slightly, your hand flying to your stomach as a sob escapes you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Our baby is in my stomach.”

Chris freezes, his hands still gripping your waist. He stares at you like he’s just now fully comprehending it, like the reality of it all is truly sinking in. His lips part slightly, his breath hitching.

“Our baby,” he murmurs, and the way he says it- so full of awe, of love- makes your heart ache.

But then, almost instantly, his entire demeanor shifts. His grip tightens, his eyes darting around the room like his brain is moving a mile a minute.

“Shit. I need to tell my mom. And my dad. And my brothers.” He steps back, running a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “What about your family? Should we call them first? And the apartment- fuck, we need to start looking at places with an extra room. Or at least be ready for when she grows up- ”

You blink. “She?”

Chris stops, looking at you dead serious. “I don’t know, baby, I just know. I have this gut feeling that my new babygirl is growing inside you right now.”

Your heart clenches at the sheer certainty in his voice.

But then he’s spiraling again. “Oh God, we don’t have anything for a baby. I need to research cribs- what’s the safest crib? And strollers- shit, what’s a good stroller brand? I don’t know anything about strollers! And- fuck, baby, we’re twenty-one. I haven’t even married you yet!”

He turns to you, panic written all over his face now, and for the first time ever, you’re the calm one.

You step forward, reaching for his hands, squeezing them tightly. “Chris, baby, breathe.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, but he listens, taking a deep inhale as his eyes lock onto yours.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, pressing his hands against your stomach. “The way you reacted tells me all I need to know. You’re gonna be an amazing father.”

Chris swallows hard, his panic giving way to something softer, more vulnerable. His fingers flex against your stomach, like he’s already trying to connect with the tiny life growing inside you.

“You think so?” he asks, voice quieter now.

You smile, cupping his face. “I know so.”

Chris exhales shakily, closing his eyes for a moment before leaning forward, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.”

And in that moment, standing there in the tiny bathroom with ten positive pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, everything feels exactly as it should be.

MASTERLIST

tags: @bernardsbendystraws @mattsobvimyfav @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

[httpwintersoldier]

『sweet little thing p.3 | b. barnes x reader』

pairing: bucky barnes x afab!reader words: it's real long okay, it even has THREE parts (or more?) summary: what happens when the guy you have a crush on happens to have a dad, who is older, hotter and rougher? 『 part 1 』 『 part 2 』 『 part 3 』 『 part 4 』

fluff ; angst ; smut

To say that things were complicated after that day was an understatement. On the night of the game you and Bucky had to wait for everyone to leave and for Andy to go to bed, before he could sneak you out of the house - at the end of the ride you had to force yourselves off of each other, or the night would become a lot longer than intended.

You had kept in constant contact, yearning to repeat what had happened the day (and night) of the game. If the day had more hours, and if the week had more days, you would've spent even that extra time messaging each other, as it appeared that the twenty-four hours of contact were (seemingly) not enough.

Bucky didn't tell you, obviously, but he was afraid that you'd stop showing interest right after, due to his age - he considered the possibility of being an experiment to you. On the other hand, you had also considered that he had only wanted you as a trophy, the young piece of ass that he'd tell his friends about. However, as time passed and as messages were exchanged, it was clear to the both of you that your worries were nothing but mere fiction made up by your overthinking.

You: lazy day today...

Mr. Barnes: does that mean I'm not getting a pic of one those cute little outfits you like to wear?

You: 1 attachment

You: this is the only outfit I'm wearing today, good enough? 😇

"Fuck..." Bucky muttered, and licked his lips as he looked at the image you had sent him.

The t-shirt was loose, but you were laying on your back so your curves and your nipples were very distinguishable. You had purposefully pulled it up, so your panties peeked from underneath the fabric, teasing him purposefully.

Something within him flared up, all the while you stared at the phone, anxiously awaiting his reply. You saw the text go from sent, to delivered, to seen, to... ignored?

You frowned, he had never taken that long to respond... You thought the both of you were "in a mood", but apparently you were wrong. Minutes went by and there was still no response, and suddenly you wondered if you had done something wrong.

The sound of the doorbell echoed in your place, bringing you back to reality. You were confused, you hadn't ordered anything, and you weren't expecting anyone, it was also quite late, which definitely raised an alarm.

You quietly walked to the door and looked through the peephole. Your eyes widened as you realized that, on the other side of the door, stood none other than James Barnes, he looked angry... no, desperate.

You swung the door open and, before you could say a word, Bucky cupped one of your cheeks and the other hand gripped your waist, pushing you against the wall as he closed the door with his foot. His lips smashed against yours, devouring you in a hungry kiss while his shameless hand travelled to your ass and gripped it harshly, bringing your hips forward. You could feel the outline of his hardened cock pressing against your hip, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped into the kiss.

"How are you here? I texted you like... ten minutes ago. You live twenty minutes away." You asked, looking at him through half lidded eyes as you caressed his cheek.

"My foot was on the floor with that gas pedal."

You leaned your head against the wall and laughed, giving him an opening to kiss and bite your neck.

"You risked getting pulled over just to come here quickly?"

"It was an urgent matter..." The man rolled his hips against you as he spoke, fully letting you feel his boner. "This time..." he paused, biting your neck in the middle of the sentence "there's no one around, so I want to hear you call my name real loud."

A string of cures left your lips as you grabbed his hand and hurriedly dragged him into your bedroom.

Bucky was quick to throw you onto your bed, discarding of his shirt and working on his jeans as he hovered over you. His impatience was clear, he didn't even remove your panties, the man simply pulled them to the side as he slid into you with ease.

Your moans and his grunts were muffled out by the hungry kiss you two shared. Your legs wrapped around his waist, giving Bucky a better angle to thrust deeper into you.

"Y-you feel so good!" You moaned, fueling Bucky to fuck you even harder.

He gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it off of you, so that he could see your tits bouncing with each thrust of his hips. The man gripped and squeezed every inch of your body, seemingly hypnotized by the way you looked when being fucked by him.

"I'm not lasting long, sweetheart." Bucky admitted.

"C-cum in me."

Those three words alone nearly had him climaxing, your pretty voice saying those dirty words for him, as your pretty eyes looked at him with that little sparkle in them... It took real commitment not to spill inside of you that very second.

"You're sure, baby?"

You could only nod and, before long, his hips snapped against yours in one final thrust, and his cock twitched inside of you, filling you with his cum. Bucky bent over, and kissed you slowly to drown out his groans.

"That's it, take it all in..." He paused, and kissed your temple. "Good girl..."

Once he was done, Bucky was careful when pulling out. He laid beside you, placing several kisses to your temple.

"You okay?"

You looked at him and nodded. Bucky looked back at you, with adoration plastered on his face. You were a grown adult, but the expression on your face when you stared at him was simply too cute, too much to bear, he wanted to hold onto you forever.

"I will wash up and get us some water, okay?" You said, brushing stray strands of hair away from his face.

Bucky nodded and slapped your ass as you walked away, earning a small shriek in return.

A couple minutes later, his phone vibrated on the pocket of his jeans that were lying somewhere on the floor. Bucky cursed and rummaged through the clothes until he found the device, picking up without looking at the caller ID.

"Dad? Where are you? I just got home and you're nowhere, I tried calling you like, three times. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine, I left home like forty minutes ago." Bucky clarified with a sigh - sometimes he felt like the child.

"Where are you?"

Just as the man was about to answer and give some shitty excuse, your voice echoed in the house.

"Hey Bucky, do you want a beer instead or-" You stopped in your tracks when you walked into the room and saw Bucky sitting there, with wide eyes and his phone to his ear.

"Dad? Who was that? Oh my God are you on a date?!" The boy asked, with a teasing tone.

"No, Andy, I'm not on a date, see you later, okay?" Bucky responded, making sure to say his name so that you'd understand who it was on the other side.

"Sure dad, see you."

You sat beside him on the bed, giving him the beer you had brought for him.

"Do you think he recognized my voice?" You asked as you bit your lip, suddenly feeling uneasy and nervous.

"No, he would've given me Hell on the phone if he had. But it is kind of late, I should head back." The man said, placing a kiss to your lips, as he got ready to stand up.

You grabbed his wrist and stopped him. He looked at you as you pressed your lips together and averted your gaze - you were clearly itching to ask something, but you were too nervous.

"What?" He asked with a chuckle and a small smile, knowing very well what you were going to question next.

"No need to head back... It's so late, why don't you spend the night?"

Bucky kissed your lips softly, and then kissed you a little deeper, just enough so you could taste the alcohol on his tongue.

"I thought you were gonna make me do the walk of shame."

Bucky strolled into his house with a small smile, as he thought of you, of your body, and of the time you had spent together. It was hard to conceal how happy you made him, and the man didn't try hard to hide it either.

The second the front door closed, a curious Andy came in the room.

"Hey dad, where did you spend the night, hm?" The boy asked teasingly, hinting at the feminine voice he had heard on the phone.

The dad chuckled, and the spark in his eye instantly died down as he remembered that you were his son's crush and he had just spent the night fucking you.

"No one." Bucky responded simply, throwing his phone and keys onto the table.

"Come on dad, I'm not going to be mad! You and mom have been divorced long enough, I knew it was going to happen eventually." The boy insisted, in a whiny voice, as he followed his dad up the stairs.

Little did Andy know, but he definitely would care.

"You're being a pain in the ass, kid." Bucky warned, evading the question once more.

Before Andy could say anything else, the man walked into the bathroom and shut the door, creating a physical barrier between the two of them, hoping that Andy would stop pushing him for answers on such an uncomfortable matter.

As Bucky walked down the stairs after his shower, in search for his phone, he understood why there had been a deafening silence in the house for so long.

His son stood in the middle of the hallway, holding Bucky's phone. The man couldn't see what he had opened, but once Andy lifted his head, with red, tear-stained eyes, it was pretty clear.

"You're fucking Y/N?..." He asked, with a faint, shaky voice, but it wasn't really a question.

Bucky's mouth opened, but closed right after, as he had no idea what to say.

"You're fucking Y/N?!" Andy repeated, now yelling.

The tears streaming down his face were those of sadness, anger and frustration - he couldn't comprehend what was happening, and he was unable to assimilate that it was real life, surely it had to be a dream, a nightmare. His face was contorted in hate and betrayal, and the whole situation made him feel so, so small.

"Andy, I'm sorry..." That was the only thing Bucky could muster the courage to say.

"Are you!? Are you really!? 'Cause you didn't seem sorry at all when you were coming in the house! You knew I fucking liked her, I told you!"

The man opened his mouth to say something, but Andy was quicker.

"I don't wanna hear whatever bullshit excuse you're going to make up to make yourself feel better."

Andy dropped his dad's phone on the floor with force and dashed out of the door.

Bucky stood there, all of what he had done hitting him like a brick wall. Soon after, he heard the tires of Andy's car screeching as he sped down the street.

Fuck.

"You're fucking my dad?!"

It felt as if your world had crumbled around you. You had been startled by someone banging on your door, and, when you opened the door to find Andy in his disheveled state you didn't expect that to come out of his mouth.

"H-how..."

"I saw it. On his phone."

"Oh..."

"That's all you have to say!? 'Oh'!?" Andy yelled, his whole body was shaking and his face was red, there was not a single negative emotion he had not been feeling.

It was all you could say, it was all that your dry, aching throat would allow you to utter. Your body was shaking too, but your legs were frozen in the spot.

"How fucking could you?! You have to have known that I fucking liked you! And I invite you to my house and what, you fuck my dad?! What the fuck is wrong with you!" By the end of his speech, Andy was laughing, out of anger and anxiousness, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, at how he had been played.

"I-I didn't! Andy I swear that I didn't know you liked me!" You shrieked back, but it sounded more like a plea than anything.

"You're a fucking liar!" He yelled, pointing his index finger at you.

"Andy I liked you! I liked you too but..." You confessed, holding your palms in front of your chest, as if protecting yourself from him.

You couldn't finish your sentence, but you didn't need to, Andy understood.

"You liked me?..." The boy asked.

His voice had become soft, as if he had realized, just then, that he had had the opportunity he wanted and had lost it, to his dad.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" Andy repeated, his voice harsher and louder.

As he stepped forward towards you, you stepped backwards, until your back was against the wall. Andy towered over you, staring down into your eyes with anger and disgust.

"I-I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm sorry... But after I met Buck- your dad, I... I'm sorry."

You averted your gaze and stumbled on your words, nothing you said made sense and you couldn't bring yourself to make a full sentence.

Suddenly, Andy was pushed away from you by something, and, when you looked in his direction, you saw Bucky behind him, with a stern, rigid expression. The man had pulled his son back by the arm and kept a strong grip on it, preventing Andy from going up to you again.

"Not at her. You don't yell at her like that, and you especially don't treat her like that." The man told his son.

"Oh, aren't you the cutest couple." Andy retorted, in a snarky and ironic voice, while trying to escape his dad's grip.

"Don't be a fucking idiot, I've taught you better than to yell at women. You want to be angry then be angry at me. I fucked up. I knew about it, she didn't, so you want to get up in someone's face, get up in mine." Bucky snarled.

It was weird, he felt intense guilt for betraying his son's trust in such a vulnerable way, but at the same time his stomach churned and his face burned when he saw his son treat you like that.

Andy looked up at his dad and, knowing it was a fight he wasn't going to win, violently shook his dad's hand off of his arm.

"See you at home, dad." He said, and left, slamming your front door as loudly as he could.

Once the silence had settled in, and once your mind processed what had happened, you dropped to your knees. Your chest heaved up and down quickly and tears flowed down your face incessantly, the droplets forming a polka-dot pattern on the floor beneath you.

Bucky said nothing, he simply knelt beside you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards his chest.

"Sh... It's fine..." He told you softly, as one of his hands caressed your face and the other caressed your hair.

You had no idea how long you had stayed on the floor crying against Bucky's chest, but the man had not attempted to get up even once. He stayed there, holding you and whispering sweet words until you had calmed down. He waited for you to shower and made you some tea (after opening and closing nearly every cabinet in your kitchen).

"So... Y/N..." He started, with a sigh, breaking the seemingly never-ending silence, as he sat across from you "I think we should stop whatever we have going on."

Bucky was met with silence and a blank expression.

"What?"

You had to have heard it wrong, there was no way the two of you had risked so much for him to end things like that.

"I don't think this is a good idea Y/N... I-I have already hurt my son, and I can't sacrifice my relationship with my son like this-"

You stood up abruptly, accidentally knocking over the tea he had made you.

"You're a coward!" You snapped, shooting daggers at him with your eyes.

Bucky stood up carefully, he was now the one locked in a cage with a wolf, as it seemed.

"Y/N, please don't make this harder than it has to be..." The man stepped towards you and tried to grab your hands, but you moved them away.

"Coward! Asshole! I was just a piece of ass to you, wasn't I?! The second trouble came your way you didn't even hesitate to throw me to the curb!" You yelled, smacking his chest.

Bucky's jaw tightened and he tried to make you stop once more, he tried to calm you down, but to no avail.

"You were not just a piece of ass Y/N, you know it, but I can't do it if I'm hurting-"

You continued on smacking his chest, while crying and cursing at him - you didn't want to listen to whatever he was saying. Bucky was older than you, but he wasn't made of iron and his heart wasn't made of stone, your words and actions had hurt him just as much as his confession had hurt you.

"This is what I get for fucking around with kids." Bucky mumbled angrily under his breath, his jaw still clenched.

You stopped everything and slowly lifted your eyes to meet his gaze. You were enraged, disappointed and hurt, but his eyes... The emotions were far too vast, sorrow, regret, hurt...

You stepped closer and looked deep into his eyes.

"I wasn't a kid when you were fucking me earlier today." You spat.

Bucky had had enough. He finally grabbed your hands and pushed you against the wall of the kitchen, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

Neither of you said anything, and both of you refused to break the intense eye contact.

It happened quickly, like a flash of light, but your lips were brought together by the tension and your hands roamed each other's bodies like wild animals. Moans, groans and curses echoed in the air as the the two of you made out against the wall.

The man picked you up with ease and swung you over his shoulder, spanking you ass several times on your way to the bedroom. When he dropped you on your bed, your body had not finished bouncing on the mattress and he had already jumped on top of you.

Your hands fidgeted with the button and the zipper of his jeans, while his fingers gripped the waistband of your shorts and of your panties, pulling them off your body in one harsh pull. The man pulled away for a second, to fully remove his pants, and to strip from his shirt, before removing your shirt with haste and attaching his lips to your neck. He stained your skin with bites that would leave a mark for certain, a small, dirty trail that followed from your neck down to your chest.

As one of his hands played with one of your nipples, his mouth attached to the other, roughly sucking on it, and giving it playful bites. Your hands found their way to his hair, tugging on it from time to time.

A long, strained moan was ripped from your throat as his fingers found your pussy, his index and middle finger slowly entering you as his thumb circled your clit. The man's lips pulled away from your tits, so that he could watch your face as his fingers fucked you.

The pace quickened at a steady pace, and he watched your pleasure-struck expression with a shit-eating grin.

"You like it, sweetheart?" He asked, bending over so he could whisper in your ear and bite your earlobe "Do you like it when I make you feel good, hm?"

"Y-yes sir." You moaned out.

Suddenly, Bucky removed his fingers entirely, licking them clean right in front of your face before gripping your neck with his hand, applying just enough pressure.

"Now, what did I say about calling me sir?" The man asked, with a glint in his eye, glad to have something to punish you about.

"S-sorry-"

"Too late, sweetheart."

Bucky flipped you around on the mattress, and pulled your hips up, so you'd be on all fours. He knelt behind you, so that his hips would be lined up with your ass, and slowly inserted himself into you, groaning as he felt your walls tightened around him. It felt heavenly, to be filled by him and to be wrapped around by you.

His hips snapped against yours at a fast, rough pace right from the start. The man's hands made a makeshift ponytail with your hair and he tugged on it from time to time, as if punishing you for talking back to him.

"Who's fucking you this good? Hm?"

"Y-you!" You yelled.

His free hand spanked your ass a couple of times.

"Who are you a whore for, pretty girl?"

"You!"

Spank.

"Say my name!"

"F-fuck! You Bucky! You fuck me so well- shit!" You cursed as you could feel the familiar knot forming on your stomach.

You arms gave in and your back arched, allowing for Bucky to somehow hit a better spot in you. With a cry for his name, and a string of undecipherable curses, you came.

The way his name left your lips made Bucky climax instantly, filling you up with his cum as he praised you.

As you both came down from your high, the man bent over and kissed your shoulder blades, before pulling out.

"You did really good, sweetheart." He whispered, before slowly flipping you around and pulling you towards him.

As you laid on his chest, Bucky played with your hair, sharing a minute of silence while the two of you caught your breaths.

"So... Is this goodbye?" You said, unwilling to meet his eye.

"It can't be..." The man admitted.

After that confession, you slowly looked up at him. His face was unreadable, the emotions were far too many to be able to decipher just one.

"Then why would you say that... earlier."

Bucky pressed his lips together and sighed. He didn't know how you had done it, but you snuck into his heart and tripled its size. Bucky found himself thinking of you day and night, you made him feel things he hadn't felt in a long time.

"It seemed like the best option- the only option. I mean fuck, my son likes you, and here I am with you. And it's selfish but..." He paused and sighed once more, unsure if he should speak his mind "This has already been done, I've already hurt my son, unfortunately. All I can do is ask for forgiveness, but if I stopped seeing you... Then three people would end up being hurt."

You squeezed Bucky tightly - you hadn't known him for long, but you could tell that it was hard for him to be selfish, to act in his own interest instead of putting everyone else before him.

"We'll figure this out..."

"minors dni" banner credit - @cafekitsune taglist: @bookofriverr ; @starfly-nicole @deafening-roar-of-angry-students

[saerins]

birthday wish;

itoshi sae x female reader. wc 2.4k

content: fluff. some profanity. slight making out. birthday fic for sae <3

summary: it’s itoshi sae’s birthday. the world hates you. you’ve never been a lucky one. being “shit out of luck” is the only thing you know. the tables must turn.

if higher beings do exist, they really must hate you. they must. you can’t fathom your bad luck otherwise.

not only did your cab to the airport run into an hour long jam, your connecting flight also got delayed and now you’re running a day late.

all you get to see is the group chat blowing up, people sending pictures of others, of each of their antics. there’s a photo of everyone together except you.

because your business trip is a pain in the ass.

because it made you miss a weekend getaway with your friends in hokkaido.

because even when they made the effort to convince the birthday boy to make a little side trip back to tokyo, you’re still too late for that.

if it was anyone else, you’d have been fine with it. as much as you feel guilty about that.

but it’s sae. it’s itoshi fucking sae and you can’t even remember the last time you saw him in person because everyone else’s schedules match except yours. the world has driven a constant wedge between you and sae and you hate it.

is there any other emotion to be reserved when that happens to you and a boy you’ve had a crush on since forever?

meeting itoshi sae as a kid was exciting, hopeful. falling for itoshi sae when he was a teen leaving japan for opportunities elsewhere was giddying. sometimes you can’t believe that someone you know is that successful, and other times you hate the fact that he’s so far away because of it.

more than half the time, he’s in spain. he’s never where you are at least ninety-nine percent of the time. the one occasion he was, which was three years ago over new year’s, you were fucking sick.

and all he sent you was a text telling you to get better while the rest of your group of friends get to hang out with him.

though, you suppose that’s a good thing. he barely ever texts anyway, and you don’t initiate, if only out of fear for getting in his way. (as if small speech bubbles could get in his way at all.)

you sigh helplessly as you reach the immigration hall, even more irritated as you look at the time. already past midnight, sae’s flight would’ve already left by now—or, actually, an hour ago because he doesn’t have your bad luck—so you don’t even have the chance of bumping into him at the airport.

whoopee.

your phone finds itself tossed into your duffel bag at your irritation. unwarranted but it is what it is. by the time you finally get your luggage and exit, you’re exhausted. from the disappointment, the delays, everything.

it’s only when you walk a couple more steps, lugging your things behind you when you stop in your tracks, your boots suddenly feel like they’re one with the marble below them.

“didn’t think your luck could get any worse.”

is it possible for your heart to feel like it isn’t functioning properly after hearing a voice? a voice that you haven’t heard physically for who knows how long now?

you have to take a deep breath to even get his name out. “sae…?”

his brows furrow before he cocks one, sighing as he propels himself forward from against the railing, hands in his jacket pocket as he takes a few steps towards you. his face is hidden behind a black mask, his hood pulled over his head but you can still see the clear piercing teal of his eyes and the same nonchalant expression he always wears in his interviews.

you’ve seen a bunch of them.

“who else would i be?” he sighs again, like he’s exasperated, before he grabs the luggage handle from you and starts tugging it behind him.

it occurs to you seconds later that he expects you to follow him when he doesn’t even turn behind.

“wait wait.” you nearly trip over your own feet as you scramble to catch up to him, feeling out of shape the moment you fall into step beside him. “didn’t you have a flight to spain, like, an hour ago?”

you couldn’t have gotten the timing wrong because you triple checked it in the group chat.

sae makes a confused noice in his throat before shrugging. “pushed it a day later.”

he doesn’t elaborate. like he always does. or doesn’t.

“but why? don’t you have training right after you land? or, when you were supposed to land?”

his body brushes your side when he sidesteps someone on his right. you’re ashamed of how your heart skips a beat.

“i have training the day after. i just wanted to get a day to nurse my jet lag if i could. i could still make training if i leave tomorrow.”

he’s always to the point. but he’s intentionally evading a part of your question.

“but why—”

“i’m hungry. you hungry?” he asks, and you can only blink. you can’t even say anything before your stomach growls and answers for you and sae doesn’t have to wait for your response.

he holds your luggage with his right, and his left hand reaches out for you, warmth enveloping as he tugs you beside him into the nearest izakaya, swiftly getting a table for two in the privacy of their special corner table and all he had to do was remove his mask.

“it’s a little late but… happy birthday,” you whisper to him across the table.

sae’s gaze flicks over to you, blank expression as he just stares at you for a moment. “no it’s not,” he says, and upon your confused expression continues, “i got your text.”

right, because you used the shitty in-flight wifi to try and get your message to him. looks like it worked.

“oh, good then,” you heave a sigh of relief as you let yourself relax, subtly slinking lower against the booth.

over supper, sae purposely asks you questions, about your work, your days, life in general, overloading you with them so you don’t even have a chance to ask him anything thus far.

neither of you even realise that it’s not a 24-hour place, but it’s not a surprise that being itoshi sae has its privileges. before long, the only customers are you and the boy you like and your impatience that puts its foot down and bites the bait.

“why did you push your flight back, sae?”

his bowl is long cleared and all he has to busy himself with is the hot ocha on his side. he looks out the window for a moment, as if contemplating something before he spots the waiter and asks for the bill.

another attempt at shaking the question off that won’t earn him any points because the moment you step out of the airport and into the chilly air outside, you question him again.

“sae, tell me.”

sae takes a deep breath, and you can see the bare hint of a flush in his cheeks. it’s not that obvious, but you can see it.

he finally lets up for the first time tonight, the life granting a glint in his eyes. he chuckles, and he shakes his head, though his smile is subtle—just barely visible.

“you’re still as irritating as when you were a kid, you know?” he remarks, and you find yourself crossing your arms before he finally relents.

after a small pause, he takes a step towards you, his body barely inches from yours. he leans down to your ears, with a voice that’s barely a whisper, “i wanted my birthday wish to come true.”

this isn’t fair, itoshi sae.

“and what’s that?” you ask because he’s still there, his neck right next to your lips and sucking the energy out of you because it’s always nerve-wracking being near him even if you’ve known him most of your life. l

“i wanted…” he pauses, hesitant to say, “to see you. in person.”

and he finally straightens back up, giving you room to breathe.

is it greedy of you to not be satisfied? you feel like this could be a fever dream. are you sick?

“why?” you ask again, and you find yourself trailing after him when he refuses to answer.

sae flags down a cab, telling him your address, word for word correctly and it doesn’t register to you that despite never having been there, he remembers it like the curve of the soccer ball, like the arc of his passes.

nothing is ever too much effort if it’s worth it.

you’ve just never thought you were ever in sae’s head.

by the time you reach your apartment, the both of you are shriveling in awkwardness, too stubborn and stupid for too long that you’re too used to it.

“this one, right?” sae asks when he gets to your unit, the one in the corner of the top floor.

you nod weakly, and sae purses his lips before he pushes the luggage towards you.

“get some rest. you must be tired,” is all he tells you before he starts to make a move, heading back towards the elevator.

but you’re sick of it. sick of the chances you never take and sick of how you’re too scared to even try. your fingers reach out to grab the hem of his jacket sleeve, holding him back.

“i wanted to see you too,” you declare, even if he never asked. you get greeted by the sight of his widening eyes, by the slight upward tug of his lips. “you’re never free when i am and i just—fuck—i hate it. and you’re so accomplished and i’m happy for you, really, but i… i miss you.”

(sae looks at you, looking at the floor, looking guilty as if saying you miss someone is a sin. he feels the way his heart aches in his chest—fuck, did he really miss you this much too?

he’s used to having the upper hand, always having you squirm in embarrassment, but why does he feel like it’s slipping with every instance he’s about to tell you how he really feels about you? why is it slipping every single time he sees you smile? in your photos, your stories, even the emojis you send in your fucking texts.)

“yeah, missed me that much?” he asks, teasing you a little as he sees your feet shift nervously.

what you do next catches him completely off-guard, his eyes snapping shut the moment you grab his jacket lapel, pulling him close and kissing him, tasting so sweet he would be tempted to ask you to do that all night.

by the time you pull away, sae isn’t ready. he’s not ready anymore. to leave you. not so soon. you’ve always been one of the few reasons he couldn’t bear to leave japan and not seeing you all this time has helped him tolerate it. now that you’re here, in the flesh, his fingers digging into your hips, he doesn’t think he can leave.

“you- um- what time’s your flight tomorrow?” you ask, breathless when you finally manage to pull away.

sae groans, shaking his head. “don’t wanna talk about that, doesn’t matter it’s fine, i’ll make it,” he mutters, eyes shutting close again because the next second he’s chasing your lips, swallowing your chuckles as you stumble to open your apartment door.

he makes the effort to kick your luggage inside before he feels his back hitting the back of the door, eyes flying open and being greeted with a smirk on your face.

so you have this kind of side to you too.

sae smiles a little wider now, shaking his head when you wrap your arms around his neck, jumping up with your legs around his waist as you drown him in kisses that would probably last him at most a few days.

“sorry, i know this is more than you wished for,” you laugh weakly in between kisses.

sae shakes his head. “i don’t mind a bonus,” he jokes, and you hit him playfully on the chest.

it’s a little surreal to you that the boy you’ve had a crush on for half your life is actually reciprocating. you’ve watched him play pro-soccer since he was a teen until now, when you’re both full-fledged adults. you’ve never thought that anything would work out. not when you’re just barely navigating through life while he has his whole career figured out.

not when you’re always shit out of luck. but if this is the kind of luck that you get, you’ll take it.

“i… i’ve always liked you, itoshi sae,” you confess, foreheads pressed against one another’s as he continues to hold you in his arms, stronger than you remember.

a low hum leaves his throat. “i know, rin told me the first time i came back to japan from spain.”

you might actually kill rin.

(sae bites back a chuckle. he never thought of it much at all back then. he barely cared for anything except soccer. he can’t even remember when he started to think of you more. miss you. wish to see you on birthdays, on new year eves, on new years, christmases, whatever occasions there are in a year.)

“i think i might love you,” he confesses, and it takes your breath away.

you can only blink, slowly letting it sink in. you get down off his arms, both of you locking gazes and never looking away.

“think you could do that from halfway across the world too?” you ask.

it dawns on him what you’re afraid of, but after years of pining for you, sae has no doubt in his head.

“think i could do that forever, no matter where we are,” sae assures you, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “could you grant me one more wish?”

you swallow the lump in your throat. “what is it?”

“be mine.”

and this is his birthday (it’s still not 11 october in other parts of the world!) but you feel like it’s your lucky day.

“i think i’ve always been yours, itoshi sae.”

and for the first time since you’ve known him, you see him smile. wider than you’ve ever seen. you finally see the path clearing, you can finally tell, somehow—itoshi sae will be yours for life.

[hereforuconnwbb]

The Study of Us - CHAPTER 2

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 6.4k

warning: language, mention of injury

heres chap 2 guysss !!! im tryna follow the ideas u guys gave me, so im not 100% sure if its exactly what yall had in mind, but im gonna slowly build it up from here 🤞🏽 hopefully there’s no mistakes and it all makes sense cause i wrote the last bit of this chapter and read through this half asleep 😭 anywaysss hope u guys enjoy 🫶🏽

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

It was still early, but the campus was already alive. The buzz of conversation, the shuffle of students walking to class, and the occasional skateboard rolling past made it feel like the world had hit play again. Paige stood by one of the low stone benches just outside the library, sunlight hitting her face while a gentle breeze played with the hem of her hoodie.

She was early, way too early, but she’d never admit she was nervous. Her phone was in her hand, thumbs scrolling through Instagram, even though she hadn’t really seen a single post. She kept checking her reflection in the dark screen anytime it dimmed. Hair was decent. Fit looked casual but intentional. Nothing screamed I’m trying, even though she absolutely was.

Calm down, she told herself for the twentieth time. It’s just tutoring. You need help. That’s all it is.

A group of students passed by laughing, and Paige looked up, spotting Caroline a few feet away walking with her coffee, headed her direction. She was with Aubrey, Ice, and KK all of them talking shit about something and laughing loudly. Paige already regretted her decision to come to this part of campus.

Caroline smirked the second she saw Paige. “So,” she said, greeting her with a little side hug. “You texted Azzi?”

Paige gave her a side-eye. “How do you already know that?”

“She told me last night,” Caroline said innocently, sipping her coffee.

Aubrey lit up. “Wait, wait, you messaged her? Already? Damn, that didn’t take long.”

KK raised her eyebrows. “What’s going on? Who’s Azzi?”

Caroline turned to her with a smile. “Azzi’s my best friend. She’s super smart. Paige needed help with some classes, so I suggested Azzi could tutor her.”

“And I said I was fine,” Paige muttered.

“And then you texted her anyway,” Aubrey said, grinning. “Knew you would. Couldn’t go under 24 hours without seeing her again.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige said under her breath, adjusting her bag strap to have something to do with her hands.

Ice laughed. “Hold on, is this the same Azzi girl that Aubrey said had you all flustered yesterday?”

Aubrey nodded proudly. “Yup. Paige met her once and forgot how to talk.”

“I didn’t forget how to—geez, will you all chill?”

KK leaned in toward Ice. “Now I really wanna see what this girl looks like.”

“You might get your chance,” Caroline said casually, checking her watch. “She’s got class with me in a few minutes. She’s probably walking up now.”

And almost on cue, a voice called out from behind them.

“Hey, Caroline!”

The group turned and spotted Azzi walking up to the group of girls, backpack slung over one shoulder, her braids swaying slightly as she walked. The sunlight caught on her hoops, and Paige went completely still.

Azzi looked laid-back and composed, like she hadn’t just unknowingly walked into a firing squad of nosy basketball girls. She gave Caroline a warm smile before her eyes moved naturally to Paige and paused. Her smile lingered, just a bit softer now.

“Hey, Paige,” she added.

Paige nodded quickly. “Hey.”

They made eye contact, and it was enough to set off another wave of chaos in Paige’s chest. She was hoping no one would notice, but of course, the girls clocked it instantly.

Ice nudged KK and whispered, “Yeah, I get it now.”

KK nodded slowly. “Mhm. She’s got that calm, pretty energy. No wonder Paige’s out here acting like a freshman with a crush.”

“Shut up,” Paige hissed through gritted teeth, though her ears were turning red.

Azzi looked toward the two new faces in the group, a little curious but she does recognise them. Caroline jumped in. “Azzi, this is KK and Ice our teammates. KK, Ice, this is Azzi.”

Azzi offered a polite smile. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“You too,” KK said, still smirking. “Heard a lot about you.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t start.”

Aubrey was barely holding it together. “We didn’t even say anything yet,” she said, laughing. “But sure, Paige. We’ll be on our best behavior.”

“Liar,” Paige muttered.

Azzi glanced at her, still smiling, and Paige felt the air shift again so subtle, but it was there. That unspoken thing sitting between them that no one was addressing. Paige quickly looked away before her teammates could start up again.

“Welp, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Caroline said to the group. “Azzi and I have class.”

“Later,” Aubrey called as Caroline and Azzi started walking away. Aubrey turned towards Paige with a smirk so evil Paige felt it in her bones.

Paige groaned. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

“Oh, I’m saying everything,” Aubrey said gleefully. “The way you just shut down when she looked at you? Paige Bueckers, the ultimate rizzler herself, turned into a puppy.”

Ice laughed. “And she didn’t even do anything. She just said hi”

“Fuck off,” Paige muttered, but she couldn’t even bring herself to be mad. Not really. Because yeah, Azzi hadn’t done anything. And yet here Paige was, heart racing from a single look.

—-----------------------

Azzi settled into her usual seat beside Caroline in the lecture hall, her notebook already open, though the pen in her hand wasn’t moving. The lecture hadn’t even properly started yet, but even if it had, she knew she wouldn’t be paying attention right away.

Her thoughts kept wandering.

Specifically, to the text she’d gotten the night before. From Paige.

She hadn’t expected to actually hear from her, not after how Paige had brushed off the idea of tutoring like it was unnecessary, even laughable.

Azzi had stared at the message for a solid minute before replying.

Even now, she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about it.

“Earth to Az” Caroline murmured, nudging her gently with her elbow. “You’ve been zoning out for the past five minutes. Thinking about someone?”

Azzi blinked and turned toward her, caught but trying to play it cool. “No. I mean—sort of. Just… thinking.”

Caroline’s smirk said she wasn’t buying it. “Thinking about how Paige Bueckers finally caved and texted you for tutoring?”

Azzi let out a soft sigh and shook her head. “I told you last night. I was just surprised she actually did it. She looked so confident yesterday like she was going to fake it till finals.”

“Well, she is confident,” Caroline said, half-amused, half-approving. “But academics? Paige only pretends she doesn’t care. Inside, she’s stressing big time when she’s behind. Girl’s too proud to admit it most of the time.”

Azzi tapped her pen against the edge of her notebook, thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t expect her to be the kind to reach out. Especially to someone she barely knows.”

“She knows who you are,” Caroline said, shooting her a look. “You’re the quiet one who actually takes notes and doesn’t worship the ground she walks on. That probably intrigued her.”

Azzi gave her a look. “I don’t worship anyone. I just… don’t care about basketball or any other sports.”

“Exactly,” Caroline grinned, tapping her nails against the desk. “That makes you different. Refreshing, even.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, unsure how to take that. “I don’t know. I just didn’t think I’d actually be tutoring her. It feels weird.”

Caroline turned more fully toward her, her expression softening. “Weird because you don’t know her, or weird because she was lowkey flustered around you?”

“I don’t think it was anything like that,” Azzi said slowly, trying to sound firmer than she felt. “She was probably just nervous about needing help. That’s all.”

Caroline tilted her head, eyebrows raised. “Sure. That’s all.”

Azzi sighed. “I don’t even know her. Like, I’ve heard of her, obviously, but we’ve never talked until yesterday. And it was barely even a conversation.”

“You don’t need to know her to notice when someone’s acting different around you,” Caroline said, her tone a little more knowing now. “I’ve seen Paige with a lot of people. She’s got this… guard. But with you? She was definitely off her game.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she was starting to feel the flutter of nerves deep in her chest. “You’re reading into this too much. I’m just going to help her study, that’s it.”

Caroline shrugged. “Alright, fine. Just tutoring. But don’t act surprised if she tries to flirt in her weird, awkward way.”

Azzi snorted, brushing her hair behind her ear. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” Caroline teased with a wink.

Azzi leaned back, glancing up at the slowly-filling lecture hall. “I’m not trying to get involved in anything messy. I’ll help her study. That’s it. No weirdness, no distractions.”

Caroline raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not saying you like her. I’m just saying… keep your eyes open. Paige Bueckers may be all cool and untouchable to the rest of the world, but around you? Something’s shifting.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away, letting the words hang between them as the professor started setting up slides at the front of the room.

She wasn’t crushing on Paige. She didn’t even really know her.

But there was something about the way Paige had looked at her outside, something a little tentative, a little unsteady, that stuck in her head longer than she wanted to admit.

Azzi shook herself out of it and looked down at her notebook again, forcing her mind to focus on the lecture.

Just tutoring. That was all this was.

Right?

—-----------------------

It was 10 minutes to 3, and Paige was sitting stiffly on one of the benches just outside the library steps, her jacket zipped all the way up despite the mild afternoon warmth. She kept pulling at the zipper down halfway, back up, then down again like it was a dial for her anxiety. Her foot bounced restlessly, her fingers twitching every few seconds to check her phone, even though it hadn’t buzzed.

Aubrey was fully stretched out beside her, taking up way more space than necessary like this was a casual trip to the beach instead of her best friend’s slow descent into chaos. One arm was draped over the back of the bench, the other cradling a half-empty iced coffee that had long since lost its chill. She watched Paige out of the corner of her eye with a grin that kept creeping up every time Paige adjusted something for the hundredth time.

“You know,” Aubrey drawled, lifting her cup to her lips, “if I had a dollar for every time you checked your reflection in your phone screen, I’d be rich enough to drop out and live off vibes alone.”

Paige didn’t even look at her. “I was fixing my hair.”

“That the same ‘fix’ you did 3 minutes ago? Or the one right after you dabbed your hoodie with water to flatten that invisible wrinkle?”

Paige groaned and let her head fall back against the bench. “Why are you even here?”

“Entertainment. I live for this.” Aubrey shifted slightly, crossing one leg over the other. “Besides, watching you spiral over a girl you met yesterday is 10 times more fun than whatever I was gonna do with my afternoon.”

Paige turned her head slowly to give her the most deadpan look imaginable.

Aubrey beamed back. “Seriously though, you’re killing me. You’ve checked your lip balm, like, four times. What’s the difference between ‘subtle shimmer’ and ‘barely there glow’? They’re the same.”

“They are not the same,” Paige snapped, immediately regretting how fast she said it.

Aubrey’s laugh rang out loud enough to make a student walking by turn their head. “You hear yourself right now?”

Paige pulled the hood over her head and groaned into it. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t. You just hate that I’m right.”

There was a moment of silence as Paige exhaled slowly, pulling the hood back off and sitting upright again. Her knee was bouncing now, the nerves nowhere near subtle.

“I just… I don’t know,” she mumbled, eyes flicking toward the library entrance. “She’s really…”

Aubrey perked up. “She’s really what?”

Paige shook her head quickly. “Forget it.”

“Nooo, no, no. Don’t back out now. Say it. I need this.”

Paige sighed and looked out across the quad like the grass was gonna give her strength. Her voice dropped just above a whisper. “She’s really pretty.”

Aubrey clutched her chest like she’d been waiting her whole life to hear it. “There it is!”

Paige frowned, eyes still ahead. “And seems smart. Like, scary smart. But not in a loud way. In a ‘makes you feel dumb without even trying’ kind of way.”

Aubrey raised her brows, clearly loving this. “Damn. You’re gone.”

“Shut up,” Paige muttered, folding her arms.

“I’m just observing. You’ve had a crush for a solid twenty-four hours and you’re acting like it’s prom night.”

“She’s tutoring me. That’s it.”

“Mhmmmm. You mean she’s ‘tutoring you’ and you’re ‘definitely not falling apart at the seams’ while trying to remember what two plus two is when she looks at you?”

Paige glared. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re in denial.”

“I’m gonna throw your coffee across the quad.”

“I’ll buy another one. Worth it.”

Paige groaned again, running her hand through her hair. “God, what am I even doing? I’m acting like a middle schooler.”

“You’re acting like a college student with a gay panic problem,” Aubrey said with a shrug. “It’s fine. It’s cute. Just maybe stop adjusting your jacket every time someone walks by or they’re gonna think you’re shoplifting nerves.”

Paige looked down at herself and huffed, trying to smooth it down one more time before stopping mid-motion, catching herself. “Damn it.”

“See?” Aubrey grinned, nudging her. “You’re spiraling. It’s kinda adorable.”

Right then, Paige’s phone buzzed. She yanked it out like it was on fire.

2:57pm

Her breath hitched. She shot a glance at the entrance.

A flash of dark curls pulled into a ponytail appeared just inside the glass doors of the library.

“Oh shit,” Paige whispered, standing up too fast. She quickly brushed invisible dust off her sweatpants, glanced down at her sneakers, frowned at a smudge, then looked back up.

Aubrey watched with a lazy smirk. “You good?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Paige muttered. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s about to fail basic math but win the gold in gay panic.”

“Okay, seriously. Stop talking.”

“I’m done,” Aubrey said, hands up in mock surrender. “Go learn some equations and maybe flirt like a human person while you’re at it.”

Paige took a deep breath, wiped her hands on her pants, then started walking toward the library steps.

Aubrey called out one last time, “And maybe try not to stare at her!”

Paige didn’t even turn around. She just lifted her hand behind her and gave Aubrey the finger as she reached the door.

Her heart was pounding. Her palms were a little clammy. But she was walking.

Paige let out one last breath.

The second Paige stepped through the library doors, it felt like her shoes were too loud. Like every step echoed through the entire building even though the carpet was doing its best to muffle them. She tugged her hoodie sleeve down over her palm, eyes sweeping over the rows of tables until she found her.

Azzi was near the far corner, by the window. The sunlight filtered through the glass, catching the edge of her curls and lighting up the gold tones like some kinda magic effect from a movie. She had a pencil in hand, lightly tapping the eraser against the page, her other hand flipping through a worn notebook covered in neat little tabs. She looked focused. Comfortable.

Paige was very much neither of those things.

She hovered for a second, literally just stood there, trying to remember how walking worked before finally forcing her legs to move. Her palms were sweaty again. Her backpack felt too heavy. She hoped her hair wasn’t doing anything weird.

Azzi looked up right as Paige reached the table. “Hey,” she said, a casual, soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Paige’s brain glitched for a second. “Hey,” she said, and it came out a little too fast.

Azzi closed the notebook and motioned to the chair across from her. “You’re on time.”

“I’m always on time,” Paige said, slipping into the seat like her limbs were made of static. She regretted the joke immediately. “I mean, usually. Sometimes. Not like always always, but—”

Azzi raised a brow, amused. “You’re good. I’m just saying I expected a minute or two buffer.”

Paige laughed nervously and tugged at the sleeves of her hoodie again. “Yeah, no. I was already out here. Early. Just, you know… prepping.”

Azzi gave her a look like she was trying not to smile. “Prepping to be tutored?”

“Exactly.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath and opened a different notebook, one already half-filled with notes. “Ok. So I looked over the syllabus and the last few slides from class. Want to start with the stuff from earlier in the week?”

“Please,” Paige said, dragging out the word like it physically pained her. “That whole section might as well have been written in some foreign language.”

“Alright,” Azzi said, flipping to the page. “We’re still on systems of equations and matrix transformations. Did you get the basics?”

Paige hesitated. “Define basics.”

Azzi didn’t even blink. “Like… what a matrix is?”

“…Is that the Keanu Reeves one or the number box one?”

Azzi snorted, shaking her head. “Okay, let’s start with the number box one.”

She turned the notebook around and slid it across the table so Paige could see. Her handwriting was crazy clean. Paige immediately noticed how she circled everything in soft, pastel highlighters—blue for definitions, pink for formulas, green for notes. It was weirdly calming to look at.

“So this,” Azzi said, tapping the first example, “is a 2x2 matrix. Two rows, two columns. Easy enough?”

Paige leaned in a little, squinting at the page like it might bite her. “Yeah. I think I remember this part.”

Azzi looked up. “You’re allowed to say you don’t. No judgment.”

“I mean, I kind of remember it. It’s more like it shows up and I recognize the face, but I don’t remember the name.”

Azzi laughed again, light and genuine. “Alright, we’ll reintroduce you.”

She walked Paige through the basics, what each position meant, how they worked when you multiplied them, the reason why flipping them could screw everything up. Paige nodded, trying to focus on the numbers, the shapes, anything that wasn’t Azzi’s voice being low and patient or the way her curls bounced when she looked down to write something.

At some point, Azzi switched to a blank page and turned the notebook so Paige could try a problem herself. She watched closely as Paige worked through it slowly, brow furrowed, tongue slightly poking out the corner of her mouth.

“You’re overthinking it,” Azzi said, voice soft. “Just take it one step at a time.”

Paige huffed and leaned back, pencil pressed between her palms. “One step at a time is how I ended up failing that quiz.”

“True,” Azzi said, grinning. “But now you’ve got me. Upgrades.”

That earned a real smile out of Paige. “Yeah. This is definitely better.”

Azzi looked at her for a second, then tapped the page. “You’re actually not far off. You just missed one sign. Wanna try again?”

Paige nodded, gaze flicking back down to the numbers.

She could do this.

Well… she could try.

And maybe, just maybe if she didn’t totally embarrass herself, there’d be more study sessions like this. Not that she was hoping for anything.

—-----------------------

The soft hum of the library was like a low lullaby, comforting in its quiet, yet full of the sort of focused energy only a place of learning could have. Books, notebooks, and pens were strewn across the table between them, yet all Paige could focus on was Azzi.

Azzi was reading the textbook aloud softly, walking her through another set of equations. Her voice was calm, steady, yet there was an underlying intensity in the way she spoke, like she genuinely wanted Paige to understand. Every now and then, Azzi would pause and ask if Paige was following, looking at her over the top of her glasses, and Paige would just nod though most of the time, her attention wasn’t entirely on the lesson.

She caught herself again, staring. Azzi’s hair was pulled back into a loose bun, a few strands framing her face, and those glasses—those damn glasses. Paige had to fight the urge to look away every time Azzi adjusted them, because the way they sat on her face, giving her an effortlessly smart, put-together look, made Paige’s stomach flutter in a way she hadn’t quite figured out.

Azzi wasn’t even trying to impress anyone. She was just sitting there, leaning over the textbook, completely engrossed in helping Paige. Her calm demeanor was almost too much for Paige to handle sometimes like the sort of quiet confidence that was magnetic.

She caught herself again, looking at Azzi’s profile as she read. The way her lips moved as she pronounced the words, her fingers subtly tapping on the page as she went through the steps in the problem.

“Paige?” Azzi asked, her voice snapping Paige out of her daze. “You still with me?”

Paige blinked and tried to clear the fog in her head. “Yeah, sorry,” she said, focusing on the math in front of her. She quickly scribbled a few numbers down, even though she was far more focused on the way Azzi was looking at her now, brows furrowed in concern.

“I said we can move on to the next problem if you’re ready,” Azzi added, voice softer now.

“Yeah, I think I got this one,” Paige lied, her words more rushed than she intended. She was trying her best to concentrate, but the math seemed to fade into the background as she found herself distracted by the soft rhythm of Azzi’s voice and the quiet rustling of pages. The way Azzi’s fingers traced the lines of the book as she found the right spot. The way her eyes would flicker from the textbook to Paige every few seconds to check in on her, making sure she was following along. It was like everything Azzi did was just too perfect, too natural, and it made Paige feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Do you want me to slow down? I know this part can be tricky,” Azzi offered, her eyes searching Paige’s face for any sign of confusion.

But the truth was, Paige wasn’t confused about the math at all, she was distracted by Azzi’s presence, her calmness, the way her voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She gave a small shake of her head. “No, I’m good,” she said, though her voice came out quieter than she intended.

Azzi nodded, returning her attention to the problem at hand. She explained the next step slowly and clearly, but Paige’s mind wasn’t really processing it. Instead, she was watching the way Azzi’s lips moved as she spoke, the way her fingers tapped the paper, the way her glasses slightly slid down her nose as she read the equations. Paige couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool Azzi seemed. She looked so unbothered, so calm in her own skin, and it was something Paige both envied and admired.

The longer they sat there, the more the air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken things. Paige could almost feel the weight of the silence, but not in an uncomfortable way, in a way that made her want to lean forward, ask Azzi about her life, about everything that made her the person she was. And yet, every time she tried to get her words together, her thoughts scattered like smoke in the wind.

“Paige, are you sure you’re following?” Azzi asked again, this time with a small frown forming between her brows. She wasn’t accusing or frustrated; just genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Paige quickly said, shaking her head as if to clear the distraction. She forced herself to focus, finally pulling her eyes from Azzi’s face and onto the equation in front of her. “I think I get it now. Thanks for being patient.”

Azzi smiled softly. “No problem. You’re doing great, really. You just need to take a breath every now and then. You’re trying too hard.”

Paige bit her lip, trying to suppress the chuckle that almost slipped out. “Trying too hard?” she repeated, her voice teasing. “I’m not trying hard enough for this?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, her eyes softening as she leaned back in her chair. “Well, maybe you should try a little harder. You’re already getting the hang of it.”

Paige felt a little flame of pride in her chest at Azzi’s praise, but at the same time, she couldn’t shake the sensation of being drawn to the way Azzi sat there, calm and composed, like she had everything under control. And Paige was… well, a mess of emotions she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

She forced herself to focus back on the book, willing her mind to follow the equations instead of her thoughts, but it was getting harder with each passing second. She glanced back at Azzi, who was quietly writing out steps on the page. Azzi’s head was tilted slightly, a sign of concentration. And it hit Paige then how deeply she was starting to care for this girl. How much more than just math sessions she was starting to crave.

“Alright, I think I’ve got it,” Paige said finally, trying to focus back in, her voice steadying now.

Azzi looked up and nodded, smiling again. “Good. See? You’re getting it.” She paused, and for a moment, Paige thought she saw a flicker of something in Azzi’s eyes—something warm and unspoken. But then it was gone, hidden behind the coolness of her usual composure.

Paige nodded, forcing her eyes to stay on the page, though her thoughts felt like they were running a mile a minute.

“Alright, let’s take a short break before we do the next one,” Azzi suggested. “You’ve been at this for a while now.”

Paige didn’t protest. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and let herself relax for a moment, her gaze slipping to Azzi again, just long enough to catch her watching her with that same quiet focus. That same soft intensity that made Paige’s heart flutter in a way she wasn’t used to.

Paige didn’t mean to do it—didn’t mean to let the curiosity slip out, but the words came before she could stop them.

“So, uh, what made you agree to tutor me?” Paige asked, her voice softer than usual, as if she was treading into unfamiliar territory. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but something about Azzi seemed different. Quiet. Like there was so much more beneath the surface.

Azzi paused, her hand hovering over her bag, and then looked up at Paige. For a brief moment, there was that same familiar flicker of something behind her calm demeanor, but Azzi quickly masked it with her usual composed smile.

“I dunno,” Azzi said after a beat, voice casual, “You seemed like you needed help. And I guess I’m a sucker for helping people out, especially if they’re willing to put in the work. You seem like you actually care about getting it right.”

Paige nodded, appreciating the honesty in Azzi’s voice. “I do. I just… get distracted sometimes.” She chuckled softly, but the sound felt more nervous than anything.

Azzi smiled again, a little warmer this time. “Yeah, I noticed.” She shrugged slightly, picking up her notebook and tucking it into her bag. “I like helping people. I used to tutor a lot when I was in high school. It just feels good, you know?”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “What else? You seem like you’ve got other stuff going on. What do you do for fun when you’re not helping people like me?”

Azzi hesitated for a moment, clearly considering whether to answer. Paige almost regretted asking, but then Azzi sighed, almost reluctantly.

“Well, it’s a bit of a random fact, but I used to play basketball. Like, competitively.” Azzi glanced up at Paige, her eyes not quite meeting hers. She continued quietly, “I stopped playing a few years ago. Tore my ACL in a game, but that’s not the reason I quit. I just… lost the love for it, I guess.”

Paige blinked, surprised. She hadn’t expected that. Azzi, with her calm confidence, so different from the athletes Paige was used to, didn't seem like the type who would’ve played a sport like basketball. “You played? For how long?”

Azzi shrugged, her fingers tapping against the desk idly. “Since I was a kid. But by the time I hit high school, I wasn’t really feeling it anymore. It wasn’t about the injury. I could’ve come back after the rehab. But after a while, I just realized it wasn’t my thing anymore.” She paused for a moment, eyes flickering to Paige, then away again. “I guess I was just… over it.”

Paige couldn’t help the slight frown that tugged at her lips. She knew how much basketball meant to her. The idea of walking away from it, losing that love—she couldn’t imagine it. “So, what did you end up doing after that?”

Azzi gave a small smile, almost wistful. “I got more into school. Focused on things I could control, you know? It’s where I found my rhythm again.”

It was almost like she was shutting that chapter down, not wanting to revisit it. But Paige didn’t press further. It was clear that basketball, once a major part of Azzi’s life, had faded into something she didn’t want to talk about too much.

“Sounds like you figured things out,” Paige said softly, leaning back in her chair, watching Azzi carefully. “I respect that.”

Azzi finally met Paige’s gaze, her expression softening a little. “Yeah, well… I guess everyone finds their own way eventually.” She gave a slight shrug, as if brushing the conversation aside, before turning her focus back to the textbook in front of them. “We should get back to it. I think we’re almost done with this chapter.”

Paige hesitated for a moment, a thousand questions swirling in her head, but she could tell Azzi wasn’t quite ready to share more. And for now, Paige was okay with that. She’d already learned something important—that Azzi was much more than the quiet, composed classmate/tutor sitting across from her. There was depth to her, layers that Paige would have to be patient to peel back.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Paige finally said, refocusing on the math in front of her. “Let’s finish this up.”

As Azzi started explaining the next set of equations, Paige felt a little more settled. They were getting somewhere, and for the first time, Paige wasn’t just focused on the math in front of her. She was focused on Azzi, her presence, the way she spoke, the little things she hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t just about the lesson anymore. It was about being with Azzi, understanding her in ways that went far beyond equations and textbooks.

—-----------------------

They finished the last practice question with a shared sigh of relief. Azzi leaned over, checking Paige’s final answer with a quick glance, then nodded in approval.

“Yep. You got it.”

Paige blinked down at the scribbled page. “Wait… I did?”

Azzi chuckled, a genuine laugh that made Paige’s chest feel weirdly warm. “You’re improving. You just need to stop second-guessing yourself.”

“Easier said than done,” Paige muttered, setting her pencil down and rubbing at her temple. “But I’ll take the dub.”

Azzi started to neatly organize  everything back into her bag. “I think that’s enough math for one day.”

“Agreed,” Paige said, stretching again. “My brain’s officially fried.”

Just as she grabbed her water bottle and leaned back in her chair, a voice cut through the quiet hum of the library.

“Yo, Azzi.”

Paige looked up and instantly regretted it.

Strutting toward them like he owned the place was Jace McCallister—tight end on the UConn football team, cocky smirk permanently etched on his face, confidence dripping off him like cologne. Paige knew him. Everyone did. He was loud, flashy, and flirted like it was a full-time job. The kind of guy who wore his jersey to class and thought everyone should thank him for showing up.

Azzi glanced up, face unreadable. “Hey.”

Jace leaned casually against the edge of their table, not even glancing at Paige. “Just wondering when our next session is? You free this week?”

Paige’s brows knit. Our session?

Azzi nodded politely, unfazed. “Yeah, I think tomorrow. Same time?”

“Perfect.” He flashed her a grin. “Can’t say no to learning from the smartest girl on campus.”

Azzi’s lips pulled into a tight, polite smile. “Well thank you.”

Jace chuckled and finally glanced at Paige, as if just noticing her. “Oh. Hey, Bueckers.”

“McCallister,” Paige replied, voice flat.

He raised a brow. “Didn’t know you needed a tutor too.”

“She doesn’t,” Azzi cut in smoothly before Paige could answer, her tone calm but firm. “We’re just going over some extra stuff.”

Paige didn’t say anything. She just watched the exchange, something unsettled building in her chest. She knew Jace. Knew his reputation. And the way he was looking at Azzi now, like she was the next thing to win over, made her stomach twist.

She shouldn’t care. It was just tutoring.

But still.

Jace winked, then tapped the table. “Catch you later, Azzi.” He turned and walked off, not a single ounce of subtlety in his swagger.

Paige stared after him, jaw tight.

“Ugh,” she muttered under her breath.

Azzi looked over. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Paige said quickly, shaking her head. “Just… don’t like that guy.”

Azzi tilted her head, curious. “Why not?”

“He’s a walking ego,” Paige said, grabbing her stuff. “And he’s a player. Like, in every sense of the word. He’s not exactly subtle about who he hits on.”

Azzi didn’t say anything right away. Just zipped her bag and stood up. “He’s harmless.”

“Sure,” Paige muttered, a little sharper than she meant to. “Just be careful, okay?”

Azzi blinked, surprised at the tone. Paige ran a hand through her hair, sighing.

“Sorry. That came out weird. Just forget it.”

Azzi gave her a long look, something unreadable in her eyes. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

They walked in silence toward the library exit, Paige internally screaming at herself. ‘It’s not that deep. She’s not yours. You’re literally just studying.’ But no matter how many times she told herself that, her clenched jaw said otherwise.

As they stepped out into the afternoon sun, a small group of girls standing near the library steps caught sight of them—specifically Paige.

“Oh my god, that’s Paige Bueckers,” one of them whispered, eyes wide.

Before she could even react, one of them stepped forward, all smiles and nervous energy. “Hi! Sorry, we don’t wanna bother you, but could we maybe get a picture? We’re huge fans.”

Paige blinked, caught off guard but immediately smiled.

“Of course,” she said, already stepping toward them, voice warm and friendly. “What’s your name?”

One of them nearly melted. “I’m Sam. This is Ava and Kayla.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” Paige said, handing her phone to one of them after snapping a few selfies together. “You guys coming to the game on friday?”

“Yeah! We can’t wait! Good luck!”

“Thanks,” Paige said sincerely. “I’ll try to put on a show for y’all.”

They grinned, waved, and scurried off giggling, still whispering to each other as they walked away.

Azzi stood a few feet back, arms loosely crossed. Watching.

Paige turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Azzi shook her head slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I just… didn’t expect that.”

“Didn’t expect what?”

Azzi’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “You being… like that. With people.”

Paige tilted her head. “Like what?”

Azzi gave her a soft shrug. “I guess I thought you’d be more… I dunno. Big-time athlete energy. Standoffish. You’re not.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, amused. “So you thought I’d be a bitch?”

Azzi smiled. “I didn’t say that.”

“You thought it, though.”

Azzi’s smile widened just slightly. “Maybe. A little.”

Paige laughed. “Damn. That’s cold.”

Azzi’s gaze lingered on her, more thoughtful now. “You surprise me. In a good way.”

And Paige couldn’t help the flutter in her chest as they started walking again, side by side.

They walked in silence again for a bit, the quiet not uncomfortable—just filled with a weird hum Paige couldn’t place. It clung to her like static, buzzing beneath her skin every time she glanced over and saw Azzi walking next to her, face calm, unreadable as always.

When they reached the small fork in the path outside the library, Azzi finally slowed to a stop.

“This is me,” she said, shifting her bag on her shoulder.

Paige stopped too, a little slower. “Right. Yeah.”

Azzi looked up at her. “That wasn’t too painful, was it?”

Paige snorted. “I mean… there were a few moments where I considered setting my notebook on fire.”

Azzi smiled. “But you didn’t.”

“Thanks to you.”

There was a beat of quiet. Paige swallowed and scratched at the back of her neck. “So… when do you wanna do this again?”

Azzi tilted her head, thinking. “I’m free Thursday evening. If that works?”

Paige nodded too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

Azzi gave her a small nod. “Okay. I’ll text you.”

“Cool,” Paige said, trying not to sound weird. “Coolcoolcool.”

Azzi’s brows lifted just slightly. Paige looked down at the ground, internally facepalming.

Azzi smiled again, more to herself this time. “You’re kind of strange.”

Paige looked up. “Rude.”

Azzi started walking backwards slowly, smirking. “But I mean that in a good way.”

Paige watched her go, lips twitching. “Sure you do.”

Azzi turned around and gave a small wave over her shoulder. “Later, Paige.”

Paige stood there for a second too long after she was gone, staring at nothing in particular. Then she finally exhaled, rubbed her hands over her face, and mumbled under her breath.

“Fuck.”

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

[yamumsyadadd]

another mum

part of the mariquita universe

“Mami? Do you think mama doesn’t love me any more ?” It was a sentence that alexia was afraid to hear, she knew it was coming but it broke her heart anyway. 

For weeks you had been so excited to go to Mexico and spend Christmas with your mama. You rarely got to see her due to her living in Mexico and the season not aligning with school. 

But there had been continuous issues. The issue in question? Jenni’s new significantly younger girlfriend. For whatever reason, she didn’t like you and you didn’t seem to care or notice. But your mami and Olga noticed. 

Everyone but you and Jenni seemed to notice. 

It was less than a week out from your flight that she cancelled. Not even bothering to call Alexia, just a simple text saying ‘need to reschedule the visit.’ No reasons, or excuses. 

Alexia could tell you were crushed hen she told you, but you put on a brave face. Going back into your room and unpacking the suitcase that had sat at the end of your bed for a ridiculously long time. 

But it didn’t stop there. Your mama would come to Spain, post it all over her social media but never ask to see you. Everyone knew it broke your heart a little more each time. Olga was there, every time without fail. She’d climbed into your bed in the dead of night and hold you while you cried. 

Alexia was sad for you but mainly she was mad. Her ex, your other mother, was putting some girl over you. Thats what led to this moment, your mami was on the phone to your mama, screaming at her while you stood in the hallway, tears streaming down your face. 

“-you’re a piece of shit Jennifer. Every single time you let her down she gets upset but you don’t care! All you care about is your new whor-“ 

“Mami leave it!” You were sick of feeling this way, that you were easily replaced , “she doesn’t care about me! Leave it!” Your voice cracked as you screamed at her. 

Alexia’s face fell, the sight of you standing there, tears wetting your cheeks, face red from yelling, “Mari-“

“No! I don’t want her around me! Her girlfriend is more important!” You turned around and ran to your room, diving into your bed and letting the sobs rip through you. 

“I hope you’re happy Jennifer.” Alexia spat out before throwing her phone on the couch and goo no to console you. 

For weeks you ignored every message and call from your mama, even unfollowing her on instagram to get away from seeing her life without you. 

The only time you allowed communication was to invite her to your art exhibition, if she wanted to mend the relationship, it was up to her to turn up. 

Originally, you hated art. To you, it was boring. There were restrictions on what you could do in class, and the teacher understood. She knew you wanted to do more but couldn’t so you found it boring. 

When she handed you a flyer for art classes, you were confused. 

“I don’t like art.” 

“No. You don’t like art here. If you do these classes you can do more. Do whatever you want, here I have to follow a curriculum but there? You can do whatever you want. Just think about it yeah? Ask your mami. Who knows, you might really like it.” She gave your shoulder a squeeze and returned to her desk. 

You sat on it for a while, before asking your mami and Olga. Both agreed immediately that you could join the classes. And since then you hadn’t looked back. As it turns out, you did enjoy it. 

You had been incredibly tight lipped about what you were showing at the exhibition, wanting it to catch everyone by surprise. Your entire family, your mamis teammates and a few of Olga’s friends would all be in attendance. You hoped, internally, that your mami would be there too. You had told anyone you invited her, not wanting them to be even more mad at her. 

When the time finally came, you were nervous. You had spent hundreds of hours on this painting, there were tears, restless nights and more tears. You hoped your family and friends loved it at least half as much as you did. 

You had gone earlier than your mami and Olga, needing to help set up and ensure everything was ready. 

“They are going to love it.” Your teacher said as she stood there proudly. 

“Are you sure?” You chewed your bottom lip, incredibly anxious for the next few hours. 

“Positive.” 

It calmed you a little until you heard your mami outside, yelling at everyone to calm down, use their inside voices and to be polite. The irony of that when she was the one yelling. 

As everyone started to file into the gallery, you wanted to hide away. Olga was the first person to notice you trying to sneak away, slyly she made her move. 

“Oi, where are you going?” She smirked at you as your eyes went wide. 

“Bathroom?” 

“Are you sure about that? Or are you trying to hide?” The way your face blushed gave her the answer, “come on. I want to see the painting you did.” 

Olga knew this was a big thing for you so instead of pushing through the crowd of footballers, she took your hand, squeezing it gently and whispering how proud of you she was. She had even seen the painting yet, but that didn’t matter to her. 

Meanwhile, your mami was front and centre. The painting you had refused to show her or even tell her about was right in front of her. At least fifty different detailed faces filled the canvas. Front and centre was you, alexia and Olga on your left, your mama on your right. But what really caught her eye was the face of a man she hadn’t seen in years. 

Her papi. 

She read the plaque giving detail about the painting, “all the people who have made me who I am today. My parents: Alexia, Jennifer and Olga. My abuela, Eli, my many Tias and my abuelo who I never got to meet.” 

Out of all of the people who came to support you, only Olga was left with dry eyes and that didn’t last long. The moment she saw the painting, she was crying and the tears only came harder once she read the plaque. 

“How much?” Olga soaked out. 

“What?” You asked confused. 

“I don’t see a price.” At no point did Olga take her eyes off the drawing, almost as if she was trying to commit it to memory. 

“You want to buy it?” 

“Yes. We can have it in the lounge room, move your mamis awards somewhere else.” You were shocked, not only that Olga wanted to buy your painting but that she was going to move your mamis awards and that no one seemed to bat an eye at her. 

“I-I don’t know?” 

“I’ll talk to your teacher.” Just as she went to walk away you threw yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her neck and burying your face. 

As the night progressed you realised your mama wasn’t there. No one from her side of the family came. You thought that maybe she was running late, that maybe she texted you. But you were wrong. There were no missed calls or texts, no apologies, just silence. And even though the entire Barcelona Women’s team and your mamis family were there, it felt like a piece was missing. A piece was always missing. 

Olga noticed. Of course she did, she always knew without you saying. 

“Hey, I need some air. Want to join me?” You nodded and followed her lead out the door. 

The city of Barcelona was alive. The street was loud with the joys of others, the sound of music from the tapas bar up the street, all this joy and you couldn’t help but feel sad. 

“I invited mama but she didn’t show.” You said quietly, almost embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry.” Olga kept her distance, watching you closely. 

“I don’t understand what I did? Everything was fine until it wasn’t. What could I have done for her to not love me anymore!” You couldn’t help the sob that ripped through you. Your heart was broken from your mama. 

“Nothing. You did nothing. You’re the most perfect, intelligent and creative young girl Mari. It is her loss not yours. I am so incredibly proud of you and grateful that I get to be in your life everyday.” Olga cupped your face as she spoke, wanting to ensure the words came across as sincere as possible. 

All you could do was stand there, letting her hold you as you cried. You didn’t have your mama but you had Olga. And she was always the one to cheer the loudest or proclaim she was the most proud. 

Something changes after that night. Olga moves your mamis awards and proudly hangs the painting. You don’t reply to your mamas messages, you have Olga. You don’t need her. 

For weeks you got by ignoring your mama, but then you saw you post from the fan page. Your mama, playing and holding a teammates baby. Laughing and cuddling them as if they were her own. 

It probably wasn’t the smartest thing, being out in the rain in the winter, but you couldn’t help but pace the length of the street. Your mami and Olga were out, Rio with your abuela so you were left to your own devices. 

Your mind was reeling. Why did you mama love a kid more when they weren’t even hers. You were angry, jealous but mostly you were heartbroken. 

Alexia and Olga returned home to find you sitting on the curb, soaking wet, your head in your hands. 

“Mariquita? What are you doing out here?” You didn’t hear your mamis car pull up or her words to you, that much was clear when she touched your shoulder and you jumped a foot in the air. “Hey, hey, you’re okay.”

You shook off her attempts to comfort you. Well past that point. “Why doesn’t she want me!” You yelled, slightly scaring her. 

“Who?” 

“Mama! Why doesn’t she want me. Mami, why doesn’t she love me anymore.” You threw your arms into the arm and started pacing again. 

Your mami couldn’t believe what she was believing. Sure, Jenni hadn’t been the best mother lately, but she didn’t realise how horrible it had made you feel and that truly broke her heart. Thankfully, Olga had come to the rescue, returning with towels to cover you and ushered you inside. 

You let her lead you throw the house and into the warm shower that was waiting for you. Alexia was more grateful for Olga in that moment than ever before. She was so angry and so heartbroken. 

“What the hell do I do Olga?” Alexia finally turned to look at her, really look at her and that’s when she realised that Olga was just as heartbroken as she was. 

“Right now, we take care of her. We take care of our daughter and deal with the rest later.” Alexia couldn’t help but let the tears fall as she hugged Olga tightly. 

You stayed in the shower until the water ran cold. Olga had left your pjs on the counter with a dry towel. You knew that you had to deal with it eventually but you didn’t want it to be tonight. 

Thankfully, both your mami and Olga agreed to leave it. They let you snuggled up between them in their bed and whispered reassurances in your ear. 

“I love you Mari.” Your mami said as she racked her nails down your back, lulling you into a sleep. 

“I love you mami and mamaíta.” Olga waited until you were asleep to wipe her tears. Never had you called her that, only using her name or olgi. 

The issues with you mama were something to deal with another day, but for now you were cuddled in the middle of the two who loved you the most. 

[darylbrainrot]

KISSING IN CARS

WHERE you go on a terrible date, so hamzah makes you feel better (4.8k words) ⤷ hamzah x f!reader, friends to lovers (kinda), yearning, and fluff

As we wake up in your room, your face is the first thing I see. The first time I’ve seen love and the last I’ll ever need.

— kissing in cars (bonus track), pierce the veil

You and Hamzah have been friends for years, meeting through a mutual friend. You met him during the start of 4freakshow, and you were close. You called and texted practically daily and told each other everything even though you lived miles apart. When you finished high school, you moved into an apartment in Toronto, Canada, to give yourself the independence you craved.

So when Hamzah asked a huge favor, in which he asked if he would be able to move in with you until he got on his feet after moving into Canada in 2021, you of course said yes. It was your best friend after all, so having the opportunity to see him every day after only seeing him behind a screen was a huge blessing. So you told him yes and that he would be welcomed in for however long needed.

And before you knew it, he lived with you. Living in your homey apartment together with shared responsibilities. It was something you loved, something you both loved. The number of times you’d be able to hang out with him, the silly little “girls” nights out you and him would go on in which he always insisted on paying, or the number of times you both would stay home and cozy up on the couch and binge movies were some of the things you loved about living with your best friend.

But in the years of living with each other, you developed feelings for him. It was tricky managing these feelings. You saw him every day, saw him in the mornings to nights. You saw how he looked in the mornings, his curly hair all ruffled with his movements in his sleep, the way his voice would be raspy when he told you good morning, and the way his eyes were half-lidded from waking from his slumber. It felt like a dream seeing him in such an intimate light, only for you to realize you can only look and not touch because he wasn’t yours.

That was one of the most painful pills you had to swallow, that was the only con with him living with you.

So, you tried getting over this silly little crush you had on him. It felt impossible, but to be totally honest, it never left. You only pushed it down further and further till you made yourself believe you didn’t like him anymore.

You went on dates, texted guys, hooked up with some here and there, but deep down you knew that it would never be what you wanted— all because it wasn’t him, it was never hamzah that you saw in these romantic moments.

—

Today you had another date, it was with this guy named Daniel. You and him have been texting for a couple of weeks, debating on when and where would be the best time to go on a date for the both of you. But your schedules lined up and today worked the best.

He wasn’t ugly, he was attractive. He had nice big eyes, wavy hair, and a nice muscular build. You didn’t realize it, well maybe you did, but, you had looked for a version of hamzah in him. Daniel had features he shared with Hamzah. You were trying to look for hamzah in Daniel. Guessing that if you couldn’t have hamzah, you’d go for something as close to the original.

Yet, even though you felt anxious, you got ready. Hours spent doing your hair, makeup, and outfit to see Daniel. You felt pretty, those countless hours you put in your appearance for some guy who didn’t know who you truly were.

Hamzah was out today, filming a vlog with Martin for new content for their channel slushy noobz. So you had the whole apartment to yourself while getting ready.

Finally, the clock struck 3:30 which was a sign for you to leave the apartment and start driving your way to this cute little diner. It wasn’t that far away, only a 20 minute drive.

You arrived at the diner, finding a spot to park, and you headed inside. It was a retro diner, with hues of blues, pinks, silvers, and white adorning the walls giving it a bright atmosphere. It was cute, even though the colors could be an eyesore, you enjoyed this place.

Sitting down in a booth by the window, the baby blue vinyl of the booth chair sticking to your legs as you scooted closer to the window. You took a look at your phone, sending Daniel a quick text that you arrived at the diner. Unconsciously checking if you have received a text from Hamzah, you started to scroll mindlessly on Instagram looking for something to pass the time till your date arrived.

A few minutes later, a server came up to your table.

“Hello miss, I will be your server today. Are you ready to order?” Her notepad was ready out in her hand, a pen accompanying it.

“Oh, not right now, I’m waiting for someone. Thank you.” You sent her a kind-hearted smile as she nodded in approval. Sending you a smile, you saw her walk up to another booth.

You sighed, checking your phone once again for any messages only to see that Hamzah texted you.

hamzah: hey hamzah: where r u? hamzah: I just got back home from filming with Martin and saw u weren’t here, I brought u some food you: sorry!! I forgot to tell you I went out, I’ll be back in a couple of hours I think you: save me that food tho, don’t eat it pls hamzah: okay I’ll leave it in the fridge hamzah: if it’s gone don’t blame it on me, it was the cats.

You smiled at his texts, he always managed to put a smile on your face even through small actions.

you: how’d filming go? What did u guys do hamzah: it went good!! We and Martin just went around a mall and ended up doing another mukbang lol you: so is the food you got me the left overs? hamzah: no never, i got u ur own order that I thought ud like

Reading his text, you went to message Daniel a quick text.

You: hey, just got here at the diner - you: hey Daniel, u running late?

No response. Maybe he just is running late, I mean it has only been 10 minutes since you got here. You’ll give him another 10 just incase he really is running late. Sighing, you opened back hamzahs texts. You were both chatting about whatever, talking about funny things hamzah saw with Martin during their filming today.

You always replied with full enthusiasm that hamzah always had when talking about things he enjoyed. Giving him your full attention even though you were only texting. You always gave him your full attention, even if he wasn’t talking to you, you would always gravitate towards him. Whether it was giving him small glances you hoped he wouldn’t notice, or just being around his general vicinity. Knowing he was there near you was comfort enough.

Before you knew it, another 15 minutes passed. You’ve been sitting here for a total of 25 minutes probably looking like a buffoon to the workers here and those who are eating here. Even though realistically, you didn’t really care about this date, it felt humiliating to be stood up. You felt like you had a big giant poster taped to your head with bright bold letters saying “I GOT STOOD UP!”.

It was whatever— truly. It’s not like you even cared. It’s not like you felt that you would never get or enjoy a successful relationship because you were still stuck on hamzah. Hamzah was perfect, everything you could ever want but you knew he didn’t want you.

Well, you didn’t have solid proof that he didn’t want you. It was more of an educated guess that he didn’t want you. Maybe it was you just being biased and being self-conscious. Self-deprecating thoughts were the only thoughts you knew— as toxic as they were, it was the only comfort that you knew.

So of course you never wondered too hard if Hamzah actually wanted you in the way you wanted him. You wanted him in a way that was not platonic, you wanted to hold him, and soothe away his worries with kisses and pecks that you knew he deserved and longed for.

Sighing, you got up and left. Starting your drive back home form another unsuccessful date. Another con of being stood up was the waste of time you spent on makeup, hair, and a cute outfit.

Finding parking in your apartment lot, you checked the time and it was now 4:40. Sighing and locking your car, you made it up to your apartment room and opened the door.

You hung up your keys and found Hamzah laying half asleep on the couch with red and blue laying at his side with some crappy tv show put on as a sort of white noise for him.

Hamzah hearing the front door open, he turned around to look at you with those half-lidded eyes that you always loved and that messy head of curls that sat oh so perfectly even in their ruffled condition. It was ethereal how beautiful he was when he didn’t even try.

He shot you a confused look, he took note of your bad posture, heavy eyes matching the heavy look of your shoulders, and the slight frown you had that matched the furrow of your brows. A small prominent wrinkle formed between your brows, the one that he always found cute but never spoke out about it.

“You go on a date?” He asked, confused as he took account of your appearance. Your hair done the way he always found complemented you best, the outfit he always loved seeing you in, and your makeup done to perfection— accentuating the apples of your cheek and every divot and curve of your perfect face. The face he could stare at for hours without shame.

Oh, how he yearned to be those men you would with on dates. He knew how they were based on how you described how the dates were after you got home. They either went well but ghosted you after one more week of talking or they completely stood you up. God, he wanted to be that man taking you on a date and show you he wasn’t like them. To show you he could appreciate every single little detail about you.

To show you he loved every single flaw and imperfection you thought you had because, to him, they were never imperfections, they were little details that made you perfect. Even though you got agitated easily, he found that endearing, even though you mentioned how your face was asymmetrical, he never noticed that but only noticed the pure and raw beauty behind that supposed asymmetry. Because asymmetry is always more dynamic and interesting in art, and you were the most beautiful piece of art ever. As if you were hand-painted by Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Rembrandt, Vincent van Gogh, and Pablo Picasso, themselves.

He would treat you right. He knew that. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement that he knew was 100% correct.

You nodded to his question, throwing your sweater on the backrest of the sofa where Hamzah's head didn’t occupy.

“How’d it go?”

“Got stood up, this is like the millionth time now. I think it’s a sign from heaven.” You chuckled a dry laugh.

Hamzah was upset, not at you but at that douchebag who stood you up. What could he not see in you? You were perfect in every way.

As you sat down by Hamzah's feet, red and blue crawled towards you asking for some cuddles. Hamzah cut your thoughts short.

“Get up, we’re going out and I’m driving.”

“What?” You asked, confusion lacing your face. Those wrinkles that Hamzah loved forming between your brows again.

“You heard me, I’m taking you out. We can’t let this day go to waste— wait first, let me put something decent looking on.” He said, as he ran to his room to look for something nice to wear. He had settled on wearing some nice jeans, a plain colored sweatshirt, and some boots.

He didn’t want to go all out because he wanted you to be the main center of attention. He wanted people to turn their necks and look at you rather than look at him.

But you were still confused about what Hamzah was planning.

He came back to the living room to see you sitting down on the couch with red and blue on your lap. You turned around to see him, noticing his attire and complimenting him.

“You look nice, hamzah, but um- what are you doing”

“Well since that dude stood you up, I’m taking you on a date.” He said as he grabbed his keys from where he left them on the coffee table in the living room.

“You know you don’t have to do that, it’s not that big of a deal.” You sighed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You admired what Hamzah was doing for you.

“Well, I’m not doing it because I have to, I’m doing it cause I wanna. So get up and let’s get going.” He smiled at you, reaching his hand to the couch so you could take his hand.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you debated if you should go. Going on a date with a guy you secretly liked for a year and more seemed like fun, but it could also cause you harm. Deciding to fuck it, you grabbed his hand and he pulled you up.

Both of you bid farewells to your cats, you made your way out of the apartment to hamzahs car. Still, hand in hand, something you wished for for god knows how long.

Finally reaching his car, you went to open the passenger seat until Hamzah beat you to it, opening the door wide for you. Giggling at his chivalrous act, you sat down and thanked him.

He made his way towards the driver's seat and started the heater.

“Connect to the car and play whatever playlist, I have an idea of where to take you.”

Nodding, connecting with Bluetooth, you started to play the playlist you and Hamzah had made together a while back when you both were in school. It had some of your old favorite songs, both of your music tastes blending together almost seamlessly.

Nodding along with the lyrics and melody of the song, you asked Hamzah a question.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see when we get there. I saw this place a while back when I was driving back home after going over Martin’s place and it reminded me of you.” He looked at you as he started to drive off from the parking space, giving you glances as he went to the road.

“Can you at least give me a hint so I can guess?” You said, looking out the passenger window to try to look for hints at where you were going.

“Hmm, you’ve mentioned you wanted to go here before, like 5 months back or around there.” He said, turning to you as he kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his leg.

You were trying to recall from the countless conversations you've had with him on places you've mentioned that you wanted to go. Biting the inside of your cheek, brows furrowed, you were in deep thought. And before you knew it, you arrived at the place that Hamzah wanted to take you.

"We're here," Hamzah said, as he parked his car and turned to look at you to wait for your reaction. Nothing but admiration and sweetness behind those big eyes you loved.

You looked out the front windshield, reading the name and seeing how it was a record store. You remembered that you mentioned wanting to go to a record shop for new records because you wanted to expand your collection, wanting to have more records to play on your record player.

You turned to Hamzah, a big grin on your face. A look of pure appreciation on your face.

"You actually remembered I wanted to go to a record shop?" That smile on your face never leaves.

"Of course I did," he said as he took off his seatbelt and got out, quickly hurrying his way towards the passenger door and opening it for you.

"Thank you so much, sir." You laughed, nearly forgetting about the fact that you got stood up.

You guys entered the record shop, it was nice, It was filled with warmth and had a crazy variety of records from your favorite bands and singers. The aesthetics of this record shop kind of matched yours, which made you wonder if that's why Hamzah said it reminded him of you.

You started looking around on their organized shelves, hamzah trailing behind you as he watched you. He had this look of pure care and longing behind his eyes as if all he truly needed in his life was you by his side. He thought you looked most beautiful in this state, a strand of hair tucked behind your ear with more hair flowing over your shoulder like a waterfall, the concentration in your eyes while you look for your favorite albums, and the slight upturn on the corner of your lips. The lips he had dreamt about meeting his own lips.

"Are you going to buy any, Hamzah?" You said, while moving the variety of records around looking for the one you've been wanting for a long time.

"Maybe, ill probably look for that Kendrick album I've been listening to non stop." He said, taking a look around at the selection in front of him.

"GNX? I always hear you blasting it whenever your in your room or showering," taking a quick glance at his direction, you see him shuffling through the R&B genre, looking for that specific album.

"Is it seriously that loud?" He laughed, never noticing how loud he was playing his music.

"Yeah, I'm surprised we haven't gotten noise complaints from our neighbors." Smiling as you looked though the pop-punk genre and pulling out Bleed American by Jimmy Eat World, one of your top albums that you were looking for.

Continuing to look through this genre, Hamzah made his way towards you after finally finding GNX.

"Which other records are you looking for?"

"uh- im looking for Take This to Your Grave by Fall Out Boy, Riot! by Paramore, Move Along by The All-American Rejects, and This Is Forever by She Wants Revenge. I don't know if I should buy them all or pick certain ones, I have a bit extra money I've been saving for myself because I was planning to buy them but you beat me to it today and brought me to a record shop," counting the records you wanted on your fingers trying to pick between buying them all or only buying a couple or so.

"What are you thinking to do?" Hamzah asked, creating a plan in his mind if you only decided to buy some.

"I think ima buy the Paramore and She Wants Revenge albums, ill probably buy the others when it won't break my bank account." You said as you found the two albums you were talking about.

Hamzah nodded along, already looking for the other albums you mentioned to buy you them. He was going to pay for today after all, he wasn't going to let you pay let alone only walk out with two out of the four records you've been wanting for so long.

He found the other two you wanted and hid them behind his GNX vinyl, following you as you just looked around the cozy shop, admiring the decore and the variety of colors the records gave the shop, while Hamzah was only admiring you.

You two had spent roughly an hour and a half at this shop, noting that the time read 6:48 pm now.

"Wanna go out to eat real quick then we head home?" Hamzah asked, noting the time as well as he felt his hunger rise.

"Yeah, how about fast food? We haven't had that in a while."

He nodded as you both made your way towards the checkout, the worker behind noting you both and sending you both a nod.

Placing all 5 types of vinyl on the table, you somehow still didnt notice the extra two that Hamzah snuck on the checkout, and as you go reach for your wallet in your jacket pocket, you realize that Hamzah beat you to it. His card was out already as he passed it to the worker as the cash register display read a total of 170 dollars.

You, confused, look at Hamzah with a type of stare full of confusion and hesitation.

As the worker passes Hamzah a bag with all the records, you both start heading out of the shop.

"Why did you do that? Buying 3 records would not cost that much, too, did you put other ones in there?" You asked him, still confused over that whole interaction.

"Because I wanted to and those other records are for you, I know how much you've wanted them so I bought them for you." He states matter of factly.

Still confused, you both made your way towards his car, sitting in there quickly. You were still on about how he casually dropped nearly 170 dollars on you just because you had a bad date.

"How do you casually just spend that much money on me just because I had a bad date? Like I do appreciate it a lot, don't get wrong, but that's like an insane amount. Are you sure you don't want to go back in the shop and return at least a couple back? Like that seemed way-"

Hamzah says your name, trying to calm your rambling, but you still continue. You didn't ignore him, you were just stuck in your own thoughts and overthinking.

"-too much to spend on me for no reason. Like I'm being so serious right now, that was needed. You taking me out here just because of something I mentioned a while ago made my day basically, so this wasn't needed honestly," you were rambling now, moving your hands around to make a point towards Hamzah, trying to get your point across.

He said your name again, putting a hand on your knee for you to shut up, respectfully of course.

"Hey, I don't care that it was too much. I know you've been wanting these albums so that's why I bought it for you. I wanted to take you out so you can enjoy yourself, I already had it planned to buy you whatever you wanted from the beginning." He said, holding eye contact with you, not a single lie behind his words.

Your mind was running faster than it had ever run before, words were practically flowing out of your mouth and you couldn't stop it.

"But like why? Like- we're best friends and I don't think it's that casual for best friends to drop that much money on each other, right?" You were grasping at straws now, looking for a reasonable reason for why he spent that much money on you. It wasn't just about the money if you were being honest.

It was the feelings behind it. He brought you all this way to buy you something he knew you'd been wanting for god knows how long and it scared you. It scared you because you were noticing how hard it was to hide these feelings that you had for him. It wasn't just some simple crush—it was more than you "liking" some guy because if you were being totally honest with yourself, you loved him.

And that is insane to admit because you have spent years pushing these very feelings down and down till you couldn't anymore— and now it felt like you couldn't push it much further down before you explode and have to confess to save yourself from some pain.

It felt as if you were the moon chasing the sun, so close but so far. Only able to admire from afar, but never reach. He was always your sun. Always managing you bring your spirit up on a hard day, always being able to make you laugh on those gloomy days, and always sticking to your hip when things get rough. That's why you had such deep-rooted feelings for him. He was everything you could have wanted.

"You still don't know?" Hamzah asked, his face full of emotion yet you couldn't place your finger on what he was feeling.

"Still don't know what?" You asked, biting at your lip. Anxious that you missed some type of memo.

Hamzah's brain was filled with millions of thoughts coming at the speed of light, he didn't know if he should say it. Didnt know if it was the right time or if you would even feel the same. But, he can't keep this a secret for much longer. Your face, your smile, your everything was engraved into his brain and you were the only thing he would ever want to see. He knew he needed to be truthful right now, when would he have another chance to tell you how he truly feels about you?

"I-" He clears his throat before continuing.

"I don't see you just as a friend," he takes a breath before saying your name in that same sultry voice of his you loved, "You've always been on my mind and not in a friend type of way. I don't know any other way to say this other than being straight forward but— I honestly think I'm in love with you. Actually, scratch that, I know that I'm in love with you," you released a breath you didn't even know you were holding. A breath full of anticipation and nerves.

"I have been for such a long time that I thought you knew and you were just avoiding the topic- you're everything I want and I'm sorry if this is a bad time to mention it- and I feel like I'm rambling right now but Im like super anxious right now if I'm being totally honest... and if you don't feel the same I totally understand but I just need a straight answer if you do or don't because I feel like I'm going crazy every day-"

And before he can finish his sentence, you leaned over the center console and kissed him. You were nervous to act so bold, you were nervous that he was going to reject you somehow even though he just professed his love for you. But your overgrowing self-conscious thoughts stopped as soon as he kissed back.

Both of you put the same passion and emotion behind the kiss as the other, a very obvious emotionally charged kiss. Both of you spent years wanting this, dreaming of this happening but now you didn't have to dream or imagine it happening because it was now your reality.

Noise left both of your lips as the kiss grew to be something more heated. You slowly moved back, taking in air that now has turned hot. Looking at him with flushed cheeks and plumper lips. He stared at you with the same look he always gave you, one of pure affection and love.

You giggle, him giggling with you as well. That slowly turned into a full-blown laughing fit.

"Dude, we're actually so dumb, how did it take us this long to realize we felt the same about each other." You laugh, taking deep breaths in after feeling like you had the air knocked out of you from laughing so hard.

"I don't know, I thought I dropped enough hints for you to realize." He smiled at you, his lips slightly swollen.

Your smile on your lips grows bigger when you realize Hamzah has some of your lipstick on his lips, "you have my lipstick on your lips."

"Now I'm a pretty little princess so I don't mind."

Smiling, you give him a small peck on his lips before he finally starts his car and drives off to your shared apartment.

"How about we skip the fast food and we share those left overs? I just want to lay down after all this" You say, still shocked over everything that happened.

Hamzah nods, agreeing with your plan because all he wants to do now is lay down with you on the couch with both of your cats.

"Oh, and the next date we go on I'll pay." You stated, leaving no room for questions.

a/n: sorry if this is a bit cringy LOL, also new chapter will be out by late today so like around 11pm cst I think.. :p

[girlgenius1111]

alone.

i wrote this in maybe a half hour and it's very short but i was very in my feels so you get angsty sol as a result before the events of family line. sol struggles. there is change on the horizon, but she doesn't see it.

-----

It was the same every morning, the same every day. A quick knock would wake you, a second knock a few minutes later telling you it was time to get up. You’d throw on clothes that didn’t quite fit with Spain’s climate, tie your hair up in a bun, and go downstairs. 

Breakfast was always quiet, ever since the first few weeks, when Ingrid had tried to engage you in conversation and you rejected every attempt. She’d ask you a question that would remind you how little she knew about your life now. You’d snap back at her unintentionally, she’d get angry, and the table would fall quiet. Eventually, it just stayed quiet. 

You’d go to school, barely understand a word spoken to you. Scrape by with passable grades, most of the time. Go back to Ingrid’s house. Do your school work at the kitchen table, where she could keep an eye on you. Hide in your room until dinner. Hide in your room after dinner. Distract yourself with a mindless show, or more often, a nature documentary of some kind. Fall asleep, dream of lakes and forests and grass and mountains; things that could never be disappointed in you. 

You went through the motions. Step by step, day after day. Not really living, just existing. Not trying, either. 

You’d stop trying a long time ago. Long before Spain, before the small, bland extra bedroom you slept in. Before disappointed looks had begun to come from your sister. You’d stopped trying when you were still in Norway, still disappointing your parents. 

Back in Norway, you felt content being mostly invisible. Your parents ignoring you was better than being yelled at, though they still did that a fair amount.There was something about being here, though, in Spain that was just… different. 

Perhaps it was that part of you, little you, who still remembered Ingrid as someone who gave the best hugs and always knew how to make you smile. Little you hadn’t ever had much hope in her parents, but she’d had hope in Ingrid. That part of you clung to the idea that Ingrid could still make everything better, like she had when you were small. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t let go of that hope. 

It crushed you, time and time again, when Ingrid yelled at you, or frowned at a bad grade, or sent you to your room for being a few minutes past curfew, without even letting you explain why you’d been late [there’d been a turtle in the road on your walk from the climbing gym, and it had taken 5 minutes you didn’t have to make sure it got across safely]. When she’d sigh after another weekend passed, and you remained locked in your room. When she’d tell you to just try harder. At speaking Spanish, at making friends, at school. 

You didn’t have anything left to give. All of your energy was spent dragging yourself out of bed. Why couldn’t she see that? Growing up, it had felt like Ingrid had been the only one to see you. Now, though, she was just like everyone else. She saw what your parents saw, you decided. Someone who just wasn’t worth it. 

Ingrid had always loved you. Even when it was hard to believe that your parents did, Ingrid always told you she loved you. She hadn’t said it in a while, though. You hadn’t heard from your Mamma in weeks, the last text you’d gotten from your Pappa had been scolding you for spending too much money. [You’d bought Ingrid a birthday present, but he made you return it before you could give it to her]. 

Maybe you just weren’t someone who could be loved. You rolled onto your side, covering your ears to block out the sound of Ingrid’s loud laughter at something Mapi had said. Tears dripped off your face, and you wished you were 7 again, burying your face in your sister’s shoulder and knowing that as long as she had you, you’d be okay. That was back when she loved you, though. You were pretty sure she didn’t anymore. How could she? When all you did was screw up, who could love someone like you? 

You weren’t 7 anymore, you were 17, and you were all alone. In a house hundreds of miles away from home, with your sister who you felt like you barely knew anymore. All alone. You were beginning to think that was all you’d ever be. Alone. 

You didn’t know a lot of things, though. You didn’t know about the book shoved under Ingrid’s pillow, about troubled teens. You didn’t know that she’d stand in your doorway sometimes, just watching you sleep. Enjoying that, at least while resting, you didn’t frown. 

You didn’t know your Pappa picked up the phone often, but never called, feeling like he’d created a gap he wasn’t sure he could ever fix. Didn’t know that sometimes your Mamma slept in your bed, remembering the small child that had once smelled of syrup and brought her flowers from the garden. 

You didn’t know that Mapi stayed up late at night, duolingo open on her phone, hoping that maybe speaking a language you understood would make you feel more at home. 

You didn’t know that Ingrid loved you more than her heart could take, sometimes, and that she was just doing what she thought would work. She didn’t realize you didn’t need discipline, that you just needed a support system. 

Things would improve, but you didn’t know that. As you sobbed into your pillow, you were pretty sure you’d always feel like this; unloved and completely alone. 

[wonder-innie]

this is my first time request but i was wondering if you could make a fluff/smut oneshot on reader and lee know being in the same friend group but reader starts messaging him to get to know him once they realise they have a crush on him. he eventually finds out that they have a crush and keeps prodding to find out clues as to who it could be but then reader doesn’t give in so easily. you can give it whatever kind of ending…

so obvious, so clueless

lee know x fem!reader. fluff

word count: 3.3k

a.n: tysm for the request! i loved writing this.

a.n 2: english is not my first language. check my masterlist

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

Lee Know and you had always been part of the same friend group, and making plans one-on-one with any of them was never a problem… except when it came to him. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea; it was just that your relationship with him wasn’t as strong as it was with the others.

One night, all your friends got too drunk, except for you and Lee Know. With nothing else to do, the two of you started talking, and to your surprise, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You felt comfortable with him in a way you never had before. At one point, he let out a bright, genuine laugh, his smile practically lighting up the room. You had seen him smile before, but somehow, this time, it felt different, like you were seeing it for the first time. It was the prettiest smile you had ever seen. Before you knew it, you found yourself searching for the best jokes just to make him smile again. You weren’t sure why.

Days passed, yet that moment lingered in your mind, how easy it was to talk to him, how comfortable you felt, and… how handsome he was. You started stalking him on Instagram more often, to the point where you practically had his pictures memorized. Each time you saw his face, your heart raced, and that’s when it hit you. You had a crush on him.

You tried to ignore it, pushing the feelings away whenever they surfaced. What if it ruined your friendship? Worse… what if it affected the whole group? Some nights, when you couldn’t sleep, your mind wandered to the possibilities. If you two started dating and it didn’t work out… would everything fall apart? You didn’t want to be the reason your group broke up.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

A week later, you wanted to talk to him so badly that you couldn’t help but send him a message, ignoring all your second thoughts. You opened his chat, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. After a few minutes of overthinking, you decided to keep it simple.

“Heyy.”

Lee Know replied half an hour later, asking how your day had been. And just like that, the conversation started flowing, just like it had that night. He told you about his cats and even sent you a few pictures of them. They were adorable.

“They took their cuteness after their owner,” you typed without thinking twice.

The moment you hit send, you froze. Your eyes widened as realization hit… you had just sent him a pick up line with him. Unintentionally.

You gasped, heart pounding, suddenly regretting your words. But then, his reply popped up.

A single laughing emoji.

You sighed in relief when you saw that he hadn’t taken it as a serious attempt to flirt. At least, you hoped he hadn’t.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

You and Lee Know had been texting for weeks, growing closer with each conversation. At some point, you even started sending what you both called “good morning selfies” (pictures of each other as soon as you woke up, looking as awful as possible). Well… at least that was the goal. Lee Know looked effortlessly handsome in every single one.

When Felix’s birthday came around, he invited the whole group to his place to celebrate. You felt a wave of nervous excitement, this would be the first time seeing Lee Know face-to-face after all those late-night chats. Wanting to look your best, you put on your prettiest dress and put extra effort into your makeup.

At Felix’s house, you greeted everyone with a hug, one by one. When it was Lee Know’s turn, your nerves spiked, but you didn’t hesitate. He smelled amazing. His cologne was deep, musky, and completely intoxicating. He was wearing a simple shirt and jeans—nothing particularly trendy—but to you, he had never looked better. Why did everything about him have to be so effortlessly perfect?

You didn’t get a chance to talk to him in private until later that night when Felix announced it was “movie time.” Settling onto the couch, you took a seat near the corner. You weren’t expecting Lee Know to sit beside you. It caught you off guard, but you weren’t about to complain.

Felix pressed play, and the movie began…a romcom. You hated romcoms. You always thought they were ridiculously predictable.

A few minutes in, Lee Know leaned close to whisper in your ear.

“This movie sucks.”

You stifled a laugh, turning your head toward him.

“I know, right? But we’re watching it for Felix… so be quiet.” You nudged him lightly before focusing back on the screen.

Of course, Lee Know wasn’t going to just sit there and behave. That wasn’t in his nature.

He suddenly blew softly against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps erupted across your skin.

“Don’t do that!” you hissed, glaring at him.

He grinned. “I’m boreeed. Entertain me.”

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want me to do? Pull a bunny out of my magical hat?”

His soft laughter sent a spark through your chest. “Yes, please. I’ve never seen a magician before.”

You let out a chuckle, shaking your head.

“Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll entertain you by roasting this horrible movie, then.”

He smirked. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

After a brief glance at the screen, you blurted out, “Noah Centineo’s acting is so fucking cringe it makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a damn spoon.”

Lee Know covered his mouth to stifle his laugh, his shoulders shaking. He leaned in closer, eyes gleaming with amusement. “God, I love the way your brain works.”

Lee Know leaned in again, his breath warm against your ear. “I swear, if they make the couple kiss in the rain, I’m walking out.”

You snorted, whispering back, “Oh, you just know it’s coming. Probably with some dramatic speech about ‘fate’ too.”

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “Yeah, because nothing says true love like pneumonia.”

As the movie dragged on, you and Lee Know kept whispering back and forth, throwing sarcastic comments at every overused trope. It was like no one else was in the room.

At one point, the main characters had a dramatic breakup scene, and Lee Know sighed, shaking his head. “Three… two… one… and cue the sad montage.”

Right on time, the screen faded into a heartbroken protagonist staring out of a rainy window.

You stifled a laugh. “I hate how predictable this is.”

“Right? It’s like they copy and paste the same script every time.”

As you both chuckled softly, what you didn’t notice were the lingering glances from your friends.

Felix, sipping his drink, nudged Seungmin with his elbow and tilted his head toward you two. “Are they always like this?” he whispered.

Seungmin smirked. “Nope. This is new.”

Han, sprawled on the floor with a pillow under his head, wiggled his eyebrows. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing some serious chemistry over there.”

Felix nodded subtly, watching as Lee Know leaned in to whisper something else in your ear, making you giggle. “Yeah… they’re in their own little world.”

Changbin, who had been watching quietly, grinned. “Should we say something?”

Felix shook his head. “Nah. Let’s see how long it takes them to notice.”

Meanwhile, completely oblivious to your friends’ knowing looks, you and Lee Know were still locked into your conversation.

Lee Know sighed dramatically. “If they don’t end up together in the dumbest way possible, I’ll be disappointed.”

You smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s definitely about to show up at her wedding and confess his love in front of everyone.”

Lee Know groaned. “God, I hope he gets rejected. Just once. Just for the plot twist.”

You snickered. “You’re asking for too much.”

At that moment, a new song started playing over the movie’s emotional climax. Lee Know made a face. “Oh great. Cue the emotional acoustic song.”

The movie’s final scene cut to black eventually, and the lights flicked on.

You stretched your arms and sighed, ready to make another sarcastic remark, when you noticed something strange, your friends were all staring at you and Lee Know.

You blinked. “Uh… what?”

Felix cleared his throat, quickly looking away. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Seungmin coughed into his fist. “Yeah, just… interesting movie, huh?”

Han smirked but said nothing, exchanging a glance with Changbin.

You frowned, confused, but shrugged it off. Meanwhile, Lee Know stretched beside you, completely unbothered.

The night eventually came to an end. As you were about to leave, Seungmin casually stepped beside you, hands tucked into his pockets.

“So… you like Lee Know, huh?”

You nearly choked on air. “W-What?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Don’t play dumb. It’s obvious.”

Your face heated up instantly. You glanced around, making sure no one else was paying attention before whispering, “Okay, fine. Maybe. A little.”

Seungmin scoffed. “A little? You were in your own little world with him the entire night.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off. “Whatever. It’s not like it matters. He probably doesn’t—”

“He does.” Seungmin cut you off, looking at you like you were an idiot. “Y/N, the rest of us can see it. And if we can, you seriously think he doesn’t feel the same?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You think so?”

Seungmin sighed, shaking his head with a small smirk. “I don’t think. I know.”

And with that, he patted your shoulder and walked off, leaving you standing there, replaying his words in your head.

Maybe… just maybe, he was right.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

A few weeks later, your friend group planned a beach day. The plan was to leave early in the morning—around 6 or 7 AM—so they’d be picking you up at your place.

When the car arrived, you climbed in, greeted everyone sleepily, and settled into your seat. You ended up sitting next to Lee Know.

Still groggy from waking up so early, you leaned your head against the window, trying to get comfortable for the long drive. But just as you started to relax, Lee Know nudged your arm.

“So… I heard something interesting the other day.”

You blinked, turning to him. “What?”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Seungmin told me you have a crush on someone.”

Your stomach dropped. That traitor.

You kept your expression neutral, playing it cool. “Oh? And you believe everything Seungmin says?”

Lee Know narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not buying it. “So it’s not true?”

You hesitated for half a second too long.

His smirk widened. “It is true.”

You groaned, turning your head away. “I’m not talking about this with you.”

But Lee Know was relentless. “Come on, just tell me who it is.”

You shook your head. “Nope. It’s a secret.”

He huffed, pretending to be offended. “Why? You don’t trust me?”

You turned back to him, raising an eyebrow. “Exactly.”

Lee Know gasped dramatically. “Unbelievable. I thought we were close.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “We are, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything.”

For the rest of the car ride, Lee Know kept trying to get you to spill.

“Is it someone from our friend group?”

“Do I know them?”

“Oh my god, is it Felix?”

You ignored most of his questions, dodging them with vague answers or simply changing the subject. No matter how persistent he was, you refused to give in.

And by the time you finally arrived at the beach, Lee Know still had no clue who your crush was.

But that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying to find out.

After arriving at the beach, your group got to work setting everything up; planting umbrellas in the sand, spreading out towels, and placing a cooler filled with beers in the middle of your little setup. The sun was already blazing, and the sound of waves crashing mixed with the laughter of your friends as they ran toward the water.

You had worn your bikini under your clothes, so without much thought, you grabbed the hem of your oversized T-shirt and pulled it over your head, quickly slipping out of your shorts.

What you didn’t expect was Lee Know’s reaction.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him freeze. His entire body stiffened, and he quickly turned his head to the side, his ears turning red. He was flustered.

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. Was he really that shy just from seeing you in a bikini? Seeing that reaction made your heart beat faster, looked so cute.

Trying to act casual, you grabbed your bottle of sunscreen and began applying it to your arms and legs. But when it came to your back, you hesitated. Your friends were already running toward the ocean, leaving only one person behind.

Lee Know.

You turned to him, holding up the sunscreen bottle. “Hey… can you help me with my back?”

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he just stared at you.

“M-Me?”

You nodded. “Unless you want me to ask a total stranger?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes before snatching the bottle from your hand. “Fine, turn around.”

You turned your back to him, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin. A few seconds later, his hands pressed against your back, spreading the cool sunscreen across your shoulders.

You swallowed. His touch was… soft.

His hands moved slowly, spreading the lotion over your shoulder blades, down to the middle of your back. You felt the way his fingers hesitated for a split second before gliding lower, rubbing the sunscreen into your skin with a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

You liked it.

Your heartbeat picked up as his fingers pressed a little firmer, the warmth of his hands contrasting against the chill of the lotion. For a moment, it felt almost… intimate.

Lee Know cleared his throat behind you. “There. Done.”

You turned to face him, noticing the faint pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly handed you back the bottle, avoiding your gaze.

You took it with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He nodded, still refusing to meet your eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t get sunburned.”

You chuckled softly before turning toward the ocean, but you could still feel the lingering warmth of his hands on your skin.

The day went by normally, filled with laughter, splashes in the ocean, and the warmth of the sun against your skin. You and your friends had lunch right there on the beach, passing around sandwiches and drinks as the waves crashed nearby.

And throughout the day, Lee Know kept trying to get information out of you.

Every once in a while, he’d lean in, his voice teasing yet curious. “So… are you sure you don’t want to tell me?”

You’d simply shake your head, smiling innocently. “Nope.”

This game continued all afternoon. Every time he thought he was getting close, you dodged the question. Your friends, however, had started catching on.

Felix, Seungmin, and Han exchanged amused glances, whispering among themselves every time Lee Know tried (and failed) to get you to confess. He was completely oblivious to what was right in front of him.

Then, as the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, Felix suddenly clapped his hands together.

“We should go get more beer.”

The others instantly caught on.

“Yeah, good idea,” Han said, already standing up.

Changbin stretched, “Let’s go before the store closes.”

One by one, they all got up, casually dusting the sand off their clothes.

You blinked. “…Wait, all of you are going?”

Felix grinned, “Yeah, why not?” Then, with a very obvious look between you and Lee Know, he added, “We’ll be back soon. Enjoy the sunset.”

Before you could protest, they were already walking away, leaving you alone with Lee Know.

A heavy silence settled between you two.

For the first time all day, he didn’t say anything.

The sound of the waves filled the quiet space, and you focused on the horizon, watching the sun sink lower. But then…

Lee Know let out a long sigh.

“Just tell me who it is. The suspense is killing me.”

You swallowed, keeping your eyes on the ocean. “I can’t tell you, Lee Know.”

“Why not?” He turned to fully face you, his brows furrowed. “Don’t you trust me? I thought we were friends.”

Friends.

That word hit you like a knife straight to the chest.

A mix of emotions… your feelings for him, the pressure he was putting on you, the fear of ruining your friendship, of breaking your friend group… it all exploded at once.

Before you could stop them, tears welled up in your eyes and started spilling down your cheeks.

You quickly stood up, turning away from him as you wiped your face with the back of your hand. You needed space.

Lee Know immediately noticed your shift in mood, and his voice softened.

“Hey… I’m sorry.” His tone was full of regret. “I didn’t mean to push you so much. I just—” He sighed again, more frustrated with himself than anything. “I need to know.”

Slowly, you turned back around, and when he saw your tear-streaked face, his eyes widened in alarm.

“You’re an idiot!” You snapped, voice shaking. “Do you really not see it? It’s so obvious…!”

Lee Know blinked, still clueless. “I must be an idiot then, because apparently, I’m the only one in our group who hasn’t figured it out.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief before finally, finally saying the words you had been holding in for weeks.

“It’s you, idiot! You’re the one I’ve liked for almost two months now. Happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

A heavy silence filled the space between you two.

Lee Know stood in front of you, motionless, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you stared down at the sand, your heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears.

Then, gently, he reached out and lifted your chin with his fingers.

Your breath hitched as your eyes finally met his. His gaze was intense yet unbelievably soft, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

With the same hand, he delicately wiped away your tears, his thumb brushing against your cheek before resting his palm there. His touch was warm, grounding.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “How am I supposed to hold back when you look beautiful even when you’re crying?”

Before you could even process his words, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss took you completely by surprise. Your body froze for a few seconds, too shocked to react. But then—instinct took over.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his soft hair. His arms circled your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you seemed to blur.

The kiss was deep, filled with all the emotions that had been bottled up for weeks. The warmth of his lips, the way he tilted his head to deepen the kiss—it all felt so right.

The sound of the waves and the golden hues of the sunset painted the perfect scene around you.

And then…

A sudden burst of cheers erupted behind you.

You both pulled apart, startled, only to find your entire friend group standing there, grinning like idiots.

Felix clapped dramatically. “Finally!”

Han smirked. “Took you long enough.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I told you he liked you too.”

Changbin grinned, raising an imaginary glass. “A toast to the new couple! I better get invited to your wedding.”

You groaned, hiding your face in Lee Know’s chest, while he simply smirked, unfazed.

Without missing a beat, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you even closer, whispering just for you to hear.

“Guess we really were obvious, huh?”

[huhmiya]

MY DIARY | chris sturniolo

pairing: roomate!chris x f!reader

summary: you're in college with a roommate, and one day while you're out with friends and he's alone, he stumbles upon a book that grabs his attention.

warning: smut, unprotect sex, sub!chris, pet names (baby, good boy, mommy), handjob, use of y/n, swearing, hair pulling, p in v, teasing, palming, mommy kink, mention of birth control

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. I finally had motivationnn

WORDS: 2.2k

huhmiya on wattpad

you - pink | chris - orange

-

Your dorm has been a bit messy lately because you haven't had time to clean, and Chris never seemed to tidy up either which was normal for both of you.

You've been spending time with your friends and going out at night, and Chris has been doing the same, just not as frequently as you since he sometimes prefers to chill.

At the moment, you're hanging out with two close friends, but your phone is dead so no one can reach you.

You're feeling a bit sober today after a night of drinking, but you're still in good spirits and not giving it much thought.

You were at your friend's house, and even though your phone is dead, Chris somehow knows your whereabouts.. almost as if he has you under surveillance.

Although you two aren't dating and he doesn't know a lot about you.

It seems like he's fixated on you though, almost to the point of obsession, but he doesn't actually have a camera on you which is more surprising.

He had a huge crush on you, to the point where it made him feel like he was losing his mind, but he never acted on it.

The music playing in the house was more in line with what you and your friends usually enjoyed. While your phone was charging and you were relaxing, you knew you needed to leave soon, even though you hadn't planned on it.

Meanwhile, Chris was curiously exploring the room, especially your drawers. He wanted to learn more about you without having to ask directly. He realized this wasn't the best approach and felt a bit guilty about it, but he proceeded anyway.

He came across a book and quickly opened it, only to discover it was your diary. It dawned on him that you always wrote in it at night.

Respecting your privacy, he put it back, but then impulsively picked it up again. Lying on your bed, surrounded by the subtle scent of your perfume, he smiled before starting to read the pages.

His eyes scanned the paper, absorbing the details of everything you did and what happened. He skimmed through most of it until he reached the part about you being in college.

His body tensed as he read your thoughts on him—how you found him annoying, which he always knew but he was surprised to discover that you also thought he was good looking and had a great personality.

He smirked as he continued reading, losing track of time but not minding at all. He had completely forgotten that you were on your way back.

The way you described him made his heart race, it thrilled him to know that someone he really liked thought he was attractive and a great guy.

He started to palm himself slowly as he continued reading, trying to relieve some of the tension as he became more aroused.

Meanwhile, you had been waiting for half an hour and decided to take a taxi back. With only your phone in hand and it being late, you just wanted to get home as soon as possible so you texted Chris.

y/n

- chris can you leave the door unlock

- I'm five minutes away

- I think I forgot my keys at my friends house ffs

You were nearly at your destination, completely unaware of what Chris was doing..

The ride though was quiet and peaceful, as it was late at night. Your roommate still hadn't messaged you, which was a bit annoying, but you didn't let it bother you too much.

Meanwhile, Chris was getting more intense as he continued to read. He started to understand all the things you thought about him, even down to the more adventurous details.

"I thought you hated me, y/n," he whispered to himself, reading further until he reached the entry dated April 12th, which was just yesterday, since you hadn't written anything new today.

He began to stroke himself as he set the book down beside him, closing his eyes and imagining all the things he wanted to do with you. Knowing what you truly thought of him only boosted his confidence.

As for you, you were searching for your keys after getting out of the taxi, hoping you had them since you assumed he was asleep. He hadn't replied to your text, and you didn't want to wake him up.

As you slowly walked to the door, you chuckled to yourself upon spotting your keys buried at the bottom of your handbag. You fished them out before opening the door.

Chris didn't have a chance to move. When he heard the door open, he froze. There was nowhere to hide his boner since your bed was neatly made, and his boxers were around his ankles.

Your eyes met his, then quickly took in the situation. He was lying on your bed with your diary next to him.

"WHAT THE HELL, CHRIS?" You were more upset about him reading your diary, finding it even more embarrassing than catching him in the act on your bed. It just added to the awkwardness of the whole situation.

Chris was at a loss for words, but he tried. He looked away, hurriedly pulling up his boxers, frustrated that he couldn't finish but knowing he was to blame.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said softly, just loud enough for you to hear, hoping the term of endearment might make things even slightly better.

You glared at him, feeling a bit tipsy already. You placed your handbag down as he got off your bed.

"Don't move. Get back on my bed," you said firmly, prompting him to listen and lay back down.

"Why did you read my diary?" you asked Chris, locking eyes with his blue gaze. He hesitated before answering, his heart racing perhaps from desire, or perhaps because you looked stunning.

"I thought you hated me, but I wanted to know you better. I figured reading your diary might help," he whispered, biting his lip slightly, aware that his excuse was weak but truthful.

"Are you kidding me?" you muttered, mostly to yourself, but he heard, and it left him silent and to look away.

Unbothered, you climbed on top of him, grabbing his hair to force eye contact.

"You were too scared to get to know me, so you snooped through my stuff?" you asked, annoyed. You could feel his arousal against you, still evident from earlier.

"I'm sorry, mommy," he replied, which made you pause for a moment. Although you've been called that before, in this context, it felt a bit unusual, yet it didn't bother you.. you just knew you had to get use to being called that since this will be happening more than once.

"You better be," you whispered before kissing him on the lips. Despite your lingering annoyance, you tried to let it go.

He placed his hands on your back, pulling you closer to his body, and kissed you back almost immediately.

You traced your tongue along his lips as if guiding him, and he mimicked every movement each time your lips shifted position slightly.

"I'm sorry, y/n," he whispered, his warm breath mingling with yours. "P-please forgive me for reading your diary," he whispered again, pulling you even closer.

You pulled away, causing him to whimper softly, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. "I forgive you," you whispered back, gently wiping a smudge of lipstick from his lips. He didn't seem to mind, knowing it was from you.

His heart skipped a beat, he was thrilled that you had forgiven him, but his desire was overwhelming. He made sure you were aware of his arousal, pressing himself firmly against your leg, the friction eliciting a soft moan from him.

"Please, mommy, just fuck me," he pleaded, his eyes shining in the light as he gazed up at you from below.

Your hand slipped into his boxers, causing him to bite his lip again, watching intently as your hand moved.

He felt your hand wrap around him, your touch slow and deliberate, causing him to twitch as he closed his eyes, finally feeling the friction he craved.

"Just like that," he sighed in satisfaction, his hands gliding along your hips to your backside as you continued to tease him. His hands were warm and slightly sweaty from the anticipation.

You paused, making him look at you with longing, leaving him on the brink. You could tell his legs would be moving more if you weren't seated on them, as you had been on his lap before you started stroking him.

"Why stop..." he asked, maintaining strong eye contact as you chuckled softly, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "You think you're just going to get it all? I'm still annoyed that you read my diary," you replied.

He groaned, prompting you to kiss his jawline. "Maybe if you're a good boy next time, you'll get what you want," you teased.

You slowly removed your clothes, his eyes fixed on your body. He never imagined this day would come, and now he's feeling like a nervous teenager, despite being well past those years.

As you gradually undressed until your breasts were exposed and you were left in your lacy underwear, he was captivated.

He wasn't concerned about your body shape or anything superficial, he cared deeply about you. Even if it didn't always seem that way, he had been fond of you for so long that your appearance didn't matter to him.

"Absolutely stunning..." he whispered, his hands gently exploring your body before you slipped off your underwear. His mouth watered, though he tried to hide it, not wanting to appear like he was only interested in your body.

The truth was, he had desired this moment for ages, and now it was happening with the girl he had always liked and been infatuated with.

"Handsome," you replied, glancing at him and then at his arousal. His eyes lingered on your body a bit longer before meeting your gaze. "Do I need to use a condom?" he asked. He was open to it if necessary, but he certainly preferred not to.

"I'm on birth control, so we should be fine," you assured him, bringing a smile to his face as he realized he didn't need to use protection.

You adjusted yourself to a more comfortable position before guiding him inside you. His eyes widened at the sensation of your warmth enveloping him, and he couldn't help but moan.

"Oh, shit," he murmured, repeating it a few times before closing his eyes with his mouth slightly open. You winced a bit, adjusting to his size, which was much larger than you had anticipated.

He gently rubbed your hips to ease your discomfort, and you noticed his veiny hands and long fingers, which sparked thoughts of more intimate possibilities for the future.

"Take it slow if you need to, mommy," he whispered, concerned about not wanting you to hurt yourself while riding him. You nodded, gradually getting used to his size as you moved slowly.

Your sounds of discomfort shifted into moans, and he grew louder and louder. You didn't mind, nor did you care if others overheard.

"Oh, Mommy..." he whispered as you moved faster, his nails pressing into your hips, though it didn't bother you. His eyes were locked on yours, then on your breasts as they bounced.

He was so unused to this, having only imagined it before. Now, he was just thrilled it was happening, not wanting the moment to end. He loved how well you knew how to bring him closer.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge, his sweet sounds escaping his lips as he moaned your name.

"I'm close," you murmured, drawing his gaze to your lips before meeting your eyes. "Me too," he replied, capturing your lips in a kiss, which you returned.

His hands guided you to grind on him, offering some help as the two of you began to make out again.

The taste of his mouth was a mixture of him and raspberries, thanks to the ones he'd eaten. Kissing him was so enjoyable, something you always wanted but never admitted though he knows now, having read your diary.

You felt him twitch inside you, signaling how close he was. You gave him a warning before your own release coated him, causing him to squirm slightly and find his own climax. The mix of both your releases began to drip as he remained inside you.

"Fuck," he moaned loudly, while you tried to stifle your own sounds, aware of the neighbors. You didn't mind them hearing before, but now you hoped they wouldn't complain.

Afterward, you both lay side by side on your bed. He glanced down at himself, observing the evidence of your shared experience, then turned to embrace you.

"Baby..." he whispered softly in your ear, his stubbled beard brushing against your neck. "Yeah?" you replied, breathless and feeling the effort of speaking.

"I've always liked you... even before I read your diary. I want to ask you... Would you like to date?" he inquired.

masterlist guidelines & information wattpad socials