#and the last shift i worked with some of them was the night i was feeling evil and getting so irritated at everything

[skiesuconn]

all the ways i stay

paige bueckers & azzi fudd യ notes: it took me a while to find satisfaction with this, but i’ve finally settled on it. i figured i’d jot something down quickly while i work on chapter 3 of the argent. fic. it’s still in the making, but trust me, it’ll be worth the wait. in the meantime, i hope you enjoy this quick blurb i had in mind. also, i highly recommend playing the song mentioned later on—it really brings the moment to life. happy reading, lovelies.

paige never thought she’d be sitting through a rom-com marathon with azzi, yet here they were, limbs tangled on the couch, a half-empty popcorn bowl wedged between them. the air smelled like butter and whatever candle azzi had burning—something warm, vanilla, a little too cozy for a night where paige had fully intended to roast every movie choice.

but azzi was taking this seriously. too seriously.

the notebook had been playing for all of five minutes, and already, azzi was watching like it was a high-stakes thriller, arms crossed, one perfectly manicured hand occasionally reaching up to twist a curl between her fingers. paige, meanwhile, was sprawled out, one socked foot nudging azzi’s thigh, head tipped back against the armrest like she was suffering.

“this is the dumbest shit i’ve ever seen,” paige muttered, watching ryan gosling pull off some grand romantic gesture. “like, imagine a guy hanging off a ferris wheel, threatening to let go unless you agree to a date. that’s not romance, that’s blackmail.”

“he’s being dramatic. it’s supposed to be sweet,” azzi countered, eyes still locked on the screen.

paige huffed a laugh, shifting so her shoulder knocked against azzi’s. “oh, so if i dangle off a balcony and demand you take me to chipotle, that’s sweet? good to know.”

“you wouldn’t last five seconds. your upper body strength is—” azzi let her gaze flick down to paige’s arms, the definition obvious even under her hoodie. she cleared her throat. “never mind.”

paige smirked. “oh no, finish that thought, princess.”

“no.”

paige, who lived for this kind of thing, propped herself up on one elbow, getting close enough that azzi’s perfume curled around her senses. she smelled expensive, like warm florals and a hint of something soft, maybe honey. she should be paying attention to the movie, but instead, she was studying the way azzi’s lashes brushed her cheek when she blinked, the exact shade of brown in her eyes. totally normal. not a problem at all.

“admit it,” paige drawled. “you just got distracted by the guns.”

“i hate you.”

“no you don’t.”

“i do. i hate you so much.” but azzi’s mouth twitched, and her hand, traitorous thing that it was, had found its way to paige’s wrist, fingers pressing absentmindedly into the skin there.

paige noticed, but didn’t comment. instead, she shifted again, nestling further into azzi’s space like she had every right to be there. “okay, but you have to admit this movie is trash. a seven-year breakup over a letter she never got? and then she gets engaged to some other dude just for funsies?”

“it’s about fate.”

“it’s about bad communication.”

“well, not everyone’s an oversharer like you.”

paige grinned. “first of all, rude. second of all, if you ever fell in love with me and wrote me letters for a year, i’d totally read them.”

“good to know,” azzi said dryly, but her fingers curled slightly around paige’s wrist, like she was holding on without thinking about it.

paige caught it this time. dragged her thumb over the inside of azzi’s wrist, slow, lazy. “you’re holding my hand, princess.”

“no, i’m not.”

paige laced their fingers together, making it undeniable. “yeah, you are.”

azzi let out a long, suffering sigh, but didn’t pull away. instead, she rested her head against paige’s shoulder, like it was easier than fighting whatever this was.

“shut up and watch the movie.”

paige smirked. “yes, ma’am.”

azzi groaned. “don’t call me that.”

“whatever you say, sweetheart.” paige turned her head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to azzi’s temple. it was casual, effortless, like second nature. azzi’s breath hitched, but she didn’t move. didn’t push paige away.

paige still thought the movie was ridiculous, but if it meant getting to sit like this, wrapped up in azzi’s space, maybe rom-coms weren’t so bad after all.

paige stretches out on the couch, head sinking into azzi’s lap like she owns the place. which, technically, she does. well—half of it, at least.

"story: five out of ten," paige announces, dragging a lazy hand through the air. "sure, it's the usual love story. boy meets girl, they fight, they make up, they cry… whatever."

azzi snorts, idly combing her fingers through paige's hair. "so poetic."

paige tilts her head up, grinning. "what can i say? i have a way with words."

"yeah," azzi deadpans. "like a drunk guy at karaoke."

paige gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. "wow. that was personal."

azzi hums, twisting a strand of blonde between her fingers before flicking it back into place. "well, i’d give it an eight."

paige jerks up like azzi just said something blasphemous. "eight? for that?"

"it's a classic." azzi shrugs, like that explains everything.

paige squints. "so is canned tuna, but you don't see me crying over it."

"maybe because you have the emotional depth of a teaspoon," azzi muses, lips twitching.

"okay, rude." paige flops back down, arms crossed. "also, i think we’re ignoring the real issue here. you, azzi fudd, are a rom-com crybaby."

"i am not."

paige smirks. "oh, really? then explain why you sobbed over that one scene in 10 Things I Hate About You last week?"

"because heath ledger was singing in the bleachers, and that’s a valid reason!"

paige hums, tapping her chin. "mm. i dunno. seems a little wimpy to me."

"i'm emotionally intelligent," azzi corrects, flicking paige’s forehead.

"mm. tomato, tomahto." paige closes her eyes, perfectly at peace, until—

"you know," azzi starts, voice all sweet and innocent, which immediately puts paige on edge, "when we're old, you’ll be the one looking for your eye contacts only to realize you’ve had glasses on this whole time."

paige's eyes snap open. "excuse me?"

"just saying." azzi grins, all dimples and mischief. "you give off that energy."

paige sits up, pretending to be offended. "i do not give off ‘losing my own glasses while they're on my face’ energy."

"you so do," azzi counters, biting back a laugh.

"i'm literally the most capable person you know."

azzi raises an eyebrow. "paige, last week you spent ten minutes looking for your phone while you were on a call."

paige squints. "…that proves nothing."

"and two days ago, you left your car keys in the fridge."

paige huffs. "that was one time."

"mm-hmm." azzi pats her cheek, eyes sparkling. "sure, babe."

paige flops back down, grumbling, but as azzi goes back to running her fingers through her hair, she lets the thought settle.

growing old with azzi.

being with her through all the ridiculous, mundane, beautiful little moments life throws their way.

paige isn't sentimental. not really. but the idea sticks, burrows into her chest in a way she can’t shake.

she smacks azzi’s thigh, lightly. "you're annoying."

azzi just laughs, warm and soft, and yeah—paige thinks—maybe she wouldn't mind losing her glasses if it means azzi’s the one to find them for her.

the room still smells like buttered popcorn and the faintest hint of azzi’s vanilla-scented lotion. the air’s a little stuffy from them being curled up on the couch for hours, so paige cracks a window while azzi smooths out the blankets, fluffing the pillows back into place.

"teamwork makes the dream work," paige announces, dramatically tossing a handful of snack bags into the trash like she’s steph curry sinking a three.

except—

clunk. one of them bounces off the rim and lands just outside the bin.

"except when you miss." azzi deadpans.

paige squints. "i meant to do that."

"mm-hmm." azzi picks up the stray bag, dropping it in as paige gathers up the cups. she takes a final glance around, making sure everything's set for the next movie marathon.

when she's satisfied, she turns to paige, a little smirk playing at her lips. "good job, partner."

paige barely has time to process before azzi leans in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to her lips. it’s barely a second, but it’s enough to make paige's brain short-circuit.

"oh." paige blinks, a slow grin creeping onto her face. "so i get kisses for cleaning? noted."

"don't push it." azzi nudges her toward the kitchen, but there’s no real bite to it.

paige busies herself grabbing the cupcake cups while azzi starts setting out ingredients. she fills a few with nuts—strictly for herself, since azzi's allergic and she’d rather not spend the night in the er. then she loads up the rest with fruit, especially kiwi, because azzi swears it tastes like happiness. she adds pineapple and strawberries too, then tosses in some dark chocolate and a generous amount of gummy bears.

azzi watches, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. "so… you’re just making a personal charcuterie board of sweets?"

paige shrugs. "some of us like variety."

azzi snorts. "some of us just like sugar."

"pot, meet kettle." paige gestures at the chocolate chips azzi’s been sneakily snacking on.

azzi flicks a marshmallow at her, and paige, never one to back down from a challenge, pops it into her mouth midair with a smug look.

"show-off," azzi mutters, but her lips twitch like she’s trying not to laugh.

they settle into a rhythm, prepping ingredients for the ultimate snack session. paige, of course, insists on making s’mores, because what’s a cozy night without them?

azzi leans against the counter, watching paige work, arms brushing every so often. the night is easy, familiar, filled with little moments like this—bickering over snacks, stolen kisses, the kind of comfortable chaos that only comes with knowing someone like the back of your hand.

and honestly? paige wouldn’t trade it for anything.

azzi pads over to the kitchen, where stewie is curled up in his usual spot, breathing slow and steady. he looks peaceful, like he doesn’t have a single thought in that fluffy little head of his.

she crouches down, rubbing his ears, voice soft. "he’s literally perfect."

"mhmm." paige barely glances up, focused on skewering a marshmallow.

"paige, look at him," azzi insists.

paige, still hunched over the stove, murmurs, "kinda busy making s’moresess right now."

azzi squints. "s’moresess?"

"shhh." paige waves a hand, half-heartedly. "it’s a process."

azzi shakes her head, muttering something about her girlfriend being a lost cause, and moves behind paige, arms slipping around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.

paige stiffens slightly but doesn’t stop what she’s doing—at least, not until azzi exhales slow and warm against the shell of her ear.

paige’s brain? fried.

her grip on the skewer slips, and the marshmallow nearly meets a fiery demise.

"azzi." her voice comes out a little strangled.

"what?" azzi hums, feigning innocence as she straightens up, leaving paige standing there like a malfunctioning robot.

"you—" paige exhales sharply through her nose. "you almost made me burn the s’more."

"tragedy," azzi deadpans, already moving toward the kettle.

paige glares, but it’s weak at best. instead, she focuses on plating everything while azzi makes herself a cup of tea and grabs some coconut water.

the dorm is spotless, the only sound the occasional clink of dishes and the low hum of the kettle. the candles caroline gifted azzi flicker gently, their scents—vanilla and lavender—mixing in the air, making the whole space feel warm, intimate.

it’s just them. no distractions.

azzi leans against the counter, stirring her tea, watching paige with something unreadable in her eyes.

paige, finally done, turns to face her, a cocky little grin playing at her lips. "so, did you come over here just to sabotage my s’mores, or…?"

azzi takes a slow sip of her tea, gaze steady. "maybe."

paige squints. "that’s evil."

"you love it."

paige sighs, defeated, but she can’t hide the way her smile softens just a little.

azzi kneels beside stewie, fingers ghosting over his soft fur, careful not to wake him. his little chest rises and falls in the slow rhythm of deep sleep, curled up on his uconn-themed dog bed—matching blanket and all. of course azzi had to go all out. paige swears this dog has more school spirit than half the team.

paige finishes up in the kitchen, setting the last plate down before making her way over, dropping onto the floor beside azzi. but while azzi’s watching stewie, paige is watching her.

azzi looks peaceful, more than she has in weeks. this semester drained the hell out of her—paige saw it firsthand, the late nights, the stress, the way azzi pushed herself through it all. and yet, right now, in this tiny little moment, she’s soft, calm, just existing.

paige leans back on her palms, studying her, a quiet sort of pride settling in her chest. that’s her girl. the girl she had all her firsts with.

and tonight? well, she’s about to have another first with her.

azzi really should stop making paige feel like her heart's a metronome—this can't be normal.

paige’s thoughts swirl for a second as she watches azzi, completely unaware of the storm brewing in paige’s head. “if Azzi asked me to climb a mountain right now, i'd probably do it just to see her smile. how much do I need to pay for her to stop being this cute?”

“this is why I’m not allowed near dogs,” paige thinks, watching stewie snooze. "one pet and suddenly I'm invested in a team of athletes who can't even talk."

azzi shifts, catching paige’s gaze. there’s that smile again—the kind that makes paige feel like the world stops for just a second. “Not that I mind,” she thinks, "but damn, this girl has me wrapped around her finger."

and honestly? paige is okay with it.

they’re talking about nothing and everything all at once, voices low, lazy, like the world outside doesn’t exist. sitting cross-legged on the floor, the snacks long forgotten, azzi’s hand moves in slow circles over stewie’s ear, careful not to wake him.

paige, propped up on one elbow, watches her with that look—soft, amused, completely gone. azzi catches it, and for a second, wonders if she needs to take notes because damn, paige's stare is next level.

azzi meets her gaze, smiles, something quiet passing between them.

paige leans in first, and azzi follows, her free hand slipping to paige’s side, fingers pressing just enough to ground them both. she smiles into the kiss before it deepens, slow and sure, like every time they kiss, it means something more. because it does. because it always does.

when they pull back, paige, still close enough that azzi can feel her breath, grins.

“hey az,” she murmurs, voice teasing. “remember that night a few years back when we slow danced on the porch and i stepped on your feet like… fifteen times?”

"of course i do, paige," azzi says, voice soft but sure. "that memory’s engraved in my brain."

she remembers everything—the exact date, the thick warmth of summer, the way the night unfolded like a scene straight out of one of her movies. “And honestly? The embarrassing foot stomping was just part of the charm,” she thinks. the way it led them here, to something that feels eerily similar to what’s about to unravel.

paige raises a brow. "woah, was i really that bad?"

azzi grins, playing with paige’s fingers absentmindedly. "kind of."

paige groans, leaning her head back dramatically. "well, i was nervous, okay? i was dancing with the girl of my dreams."

azzi snorts. "oh yeah?"

"yeah," paige says, eyes locked on hers now. "you were wearing your mom’s pearls that day. that dress i thought was pretty on you, though—let’s be real—all of them were. swear, you could wear a trash bag and i’d still go crazy." she shrugs, lips twitching. "doesn’t even matter what you wear. you are your outfit. if that makes sense."

azzi flushes, her smile growing. she tugs paige closer by her hoodie, pressing their lips together. paige grins into it, hands finding azzi’s waist as the kiss deepens.

when they break apart, azzi hums, eyes playful. "i think the romance movies really got to you, huh?"

paige scoffs. "hey, i’m not the one who wants to watch them."

"that’s true."

"but i wasn’t finished with my little speech, actually," paige adds, tilting her head.

azzi rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. "oh? go on, then."

paige squeezes her fingers, something shifting in her expression—something softer, something certain. "wanna dance?"

azzi’s face lights up instantly. "right here? right now?"

paige nods. "right here. right now."

“Oh god, we’re doing this,” azzi thinks, trying not to grin like an absolute fool.

without hesitation, azzi takes her hand. paige, playing the gentleman, offers it with a dramatic flair, one hand behind her back like she’s in some old-timey movie. “Oh yeah, I’m totally swooning now,” azzi thinks, trying to keep her cool. azzi laughs, but she takes it.

they step into the open space in the kitchen, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge. the soft glow of candlelight flickers against the walls, filling the room with something unspoken. something warm. something that feels like them.

as they settle in, azzi tilts her head. "are we doing a silent slow dance, paige?"

paige blinks. "my bad." she pulls out her phone, scrolling for a second before pressing play. the soft, melancholic notes of my love mine all mine by mitski fill the air.

azzi raises a brow. "since when do you know this song?"

paige smirks. "since sarah put me on."

azzi laughs, shaking her head. as the first seconds of the song settle over them, paige—who’s just a little taller—takes azzi’s hands. azzi sighs, already knowing how this is going to go. "please don’t step on my feet."

paige grins. "can’t promise that."

azzi smiles, and they fall into place like they always do. her head finds paige’s shoulder, her hands finding her waist, and paige isn't forcing a thing. they just fit. like they were made to be here, in this moment, like this.

the song is calm, and so are they, just swaying together. the stillness, the trust, the years of knowing each other—it all settles between them like a quiet understanding. azzi closes her eyes, memorizing every movement, the way their breaths sync, the way their heartbeats seem to fall into rhythm.

paige looks down at her, eyes soft, full of something deeper than words. she presses a gentle kiss to azzi’s head and whispers, "i love you more than you’ll ever know."

azzi lifts her gaze, the candlelight flickering in her eyes. "i love you more than i ever thought i could love anybody."

paige swallows. their bodies are so close, and as the second verse starts, azzi wraps her arms around paige’s neck, resting her chin on her shoulder. her curls brush against paige’s face, tickling her cheek.

"you can put your feet on mine," paige murmurs. "i’ll lift you with ease."

azzi snorts. "you’re ridiculous."

"and yet, here you are, playing into it," paige teases.

but azzi does it, stepping onto paige’s feet, letting her take the lead. it’s ridiculous, yeah, but it’s them.

paige smiles, eyes slipping shut, and this time, azzi’s the one watching her. with nothing but love.

she presses a soft kiss to paige’s cheek, and paige’s lips curl into that cocky smile—the one that always makes azzi feel something she can't quite name.

the way paige’s whole face lights up just from being near her… that’s the kind of love scientists should be writing articles about.

as the song fades out, azzi’s fingers trace lazy circles on paige’s back. they haven’t moved, still molded into each other, warm from the dance, from the love they just shared. they were always meant for this moment.

"can we just stay like this forever?" azzi murmurs.

paige chuckles, looking down at her, at the soft smile on azzi’s face. "and who’s gonna break ankles if we do?"

"kamorea can handle that," azzi says, completely serious.

paige laughs, shaking her head. as azzi pulls her hands back, she really looks at paige. paige is holding her hands now, thumb brushing over her skin, absentmindedly tracing small circles—no, actually tracing azzi’s name on the back of her hand.

azzi bites her lip. "gotta say, you improved. you didn’t step on my foot once."

paige nods, all cocky. what azzi doesn’t know is that paige spent her free time watching dance tutorials. even asked tim—azzi’s father—for tips.

"thank you," paige smirks. "i’m a natural."

azzi scoffs. "sure."

"should we go back to the movies?" azzi asks.

paige stretches. "yeah, just gimme a sec. gotta use the bathroom."

"okay." azzi leans in, pressing a quick kiss to paige’s cheek before heading back to the room.

but paige doesn’t go to the bathroom. instead, she crouches by stewie’s bed, quietly filling his bowl with water, making sure he’s set for the night. she grabs a few dog treats and places them beside him, scratching behind his ear as she whispers—(keep in mind, it’s a dog):

"i’m gonna marry that pretty girl someday. i know you’re her #1, but i’m never gonna stop loving her."

stewie snores in response. paige grins, giving him one last pat before heading back.

when she walks in, azzi’s already curled up, waiting for her with a look of love and safety. paige jumps into bed, and azzi immediately rests her head on paige’s chest.

"let’s do frozen again," azzi mumbles.

paige laughs, pressing a kiss to azzi’s head. "i’m covering your eyes when olaf loses his head."

azzi gasps and smacks paige’s leg. "rude."

as the movie starts playing, the soft glow of the screen flickering against their faces, azzi reaches for a s’more, breaking off a piece for paige. she turns to her, eyes warm, lips curled into a soft smile.

“open,” she says, holding it up.

paige laughs, tilting her head back slightly, and obliges. azzi stuffs the piece in her mouth, giggling as paige tries to chew through the marshmallow, cracker, and chocolate all at once.

“i love you,” azzi murmurs, almost absentmindedly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. because it is.

paige, still chewing, looks at her with the kind of softness that makes azzi’s heart ache in the best way. she swallows, then leans in, brushing her nose against azzi’s.

“i’m right here,” paige whispers, voice thick with certainty, “not going anywhere. always gonna take care of you.”

azzi blinks, the words settling deep in her chest, something warm and overwhelming blooming inside her. she presses closer, burying herself into paige’s arms, where everything feels right.

paige holds her like she’s never letting go.

[bueckersstuff]

HER NEW OBSESSION

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Your new dorm is surprisingly cozy. It’s smaller than the one you shared with Paige, but it feels warmer, more lived-in. Your new roommate, Lena, is someone from your psych class—someone who had always been friendly, even before all this mess. It’s ironic, really. Last week, you were losing your mind trying to understand why Paige wanted nothing to do with you. Now? Now, you can’t even stand the sight of her. Maybe it’s anger, maybe it’s betrayal, or maybe—maybe you just don’t care anymore.

You’ve stopped overanalyzing your emotions, stopped letting them dig under your skin like splinters you can’t pull out. It’s easier this way.

The classroom is buzzing when you walk in. Lena sits beside you, nudging your arm. “You good?”

You nod, offering a small smile. “Yeah.”

But then, she walks in.

Paige.

It takes everything in you not to look, not to acknowledge her presence, not to flinch at the way the room still seems to shift when she’s in it. You keep your focus on Lena, on anything but Paige. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you can feel Paige’s gaze on you, burning, searching—but you don’t give her the satisfaction of meeting it.

The professor clears his throat. “Alright, class. For this project, you’ll be working in pairs. Since this is an extensive assignment, I’ve taken the liberty of pairing you up beforehand.”

The group project was announced, and the professor immediately paired you with Paige, assuming you were still roommates. The class murmured in agreement. It was common knowledge before. But you didn’t hesitate.

“No.”

Your voice cuts through the room before you even realize you spoke. Silence blankets the class. All eyes are on you now, wide with shock, with disbelief. The weight of their stares presses against your skin, but you don’t waver. You sit up straighter, your voice unwavering when you continue.

“I don’t room with her anymore.” You glance at Lena, your expression softening. “I’d rather work with my actual roommate.”

A few hushed whispers ripple through the room. People exchange glances, some amused, some impressed. You catch snippets of murmured words—

Did she really just refuse Paige? Damn, that’s bold. I didn’t think anyone would have the guts to do that.

But none of it matters. Not the whispers, not the stares.

You don’t even want to look at her, but something—some stupid, masochistic instinct—forces your gaze toward her anyway.

And there it is.

The look on her face.

Like she was hoping—just for a second—that things weren’t completely ruined. That maybe, despite everything, you’d still be in her corner.

But you’re not.

You see it happen—the way that flicker of hope dies right in front of you. Her jaw tightens, her expression schooling into something unreadable, something controlled. But her eyes? They betray her. They hold something raw, something aching.

It doesn’t make sense. She’s the one who pushed you away. She’s the one who made this choice.

So why does she look like you just ripped her heart out?

The professor, sensing the tension, clears his throat awkwardly. “Alright, then. You’ll be paired with Lena. Paige, I’ll find you another partner.”

You don’t hesitate. You turn to Lena, smiling, forcing yourself to look happy, unaffected, free.

But even as Lena grins back at you, even as you pretend this moment means nothing—you can’t shake the way Paige is still looking at you.

Like she just lost something she didn’t know she wanted to keep.

The project continued, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were truly living. Your new roommate, Lena, made things so easy—easy to talk to, easy to get along with, and easy to work with. The two of you were constantly together, studying in the library, grabbing coffee, and finishing your project late at night in your dorm. It was the kind of companionship you hadn’t realized you needed, the kind that reminded you that life wasn’t just about navigating through Paige Bueckers’ mess.

Late at night, as you settled in your bed, your phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

KK: Hey, it’s KK. Got your number from Paige. Hope that’s cool.

You barely had time to process before another message came through—a forwarded file. You clicked it, and suddenly, a series of images filled your screen.

The first photo was of Paige in her dorm, sprawled on the couch, fast asleep. A jacket covered her face, one you recognized instantly. It was hers, but you were the one who had been using it lately. The one you had left behind when you moved out.

The next photo showed her sitting at the kitchen counter, two mugs in front of her, staring blankly into nothing.

The last was a video. You hesitated before playing it, but curiosity got the best of you.

"Paige, seriously?" Jana’s voice rang out, frustration laced with exasperation.

"I just don’t see why it’s a big deal," Paige mumbled, her voice hoarse. She was pacing the dorm, rubbing a hand over her face.

"You want to switch rooms. Again." Jana deadpanned. "Paige. It’s been what? A week?"

Paige didn’t answer. Just ran a hand through her hair.

Jana sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Look, I get it. I’m not, like, the best roommate replacement or whatever—"

"That’s not it." Paige cut in quickly. Too quickly.

Jana narrowed her eyes. "Then what? ‘Cause no offense, but you’ve been acting like a total weirdo since your last roommate left."

Paige let out a breath. "I just—" She stopped, pressing her lips together. "I don’t sleep well here."

Jana blinked. "Damn, I didn’t know I was that unbearable."

Paige shook her head, letting out a dry, humorless laugh. "You’re fine, Jana. It’s just—"

Silence.

Jana stared at her. Then, realization flickered in her expression. "You miss her."

Paige’s jaw tensed. "I just need a change of scenery. That’s all."

Jana scoffed. "Sure. And I just need a million dollars."

Paige groaned, rubbing her temples. "Can you just drop it?"

"Fine, fine," Jana raised her hands in surrender. "But for real, Paige? You fucked up."

The video ended there.

You stared at your phone, heart pounding, stomach twisting.

KK’s message followed right after.

Paige is acting like an idiot.

You locked your phone and tossed it onto your desk, exhaling sharply.

You weren’t going to reply.

Jana had just returned from practice when she found Paige exactly where she left her that morning—sprawled out on the couch, an arm draped over her face, still in the same hoodie and sweats from yesterday. The dorm was a mess, a few empty water bottles on the floor, a half-eaten granola bar on the counter, and a general air of chaos that Jana wasn’t used to.

She sighed, shutting the door behind her a little louder than necessary. “Alright, nah. I’m putting a stop to this.”

Paige didn’t even flinch.

Jana marched over and snatched the pillow from under Paige’s head, smacking her lightly with it. “Paige, you know I love you, right? But what the fuck is going on with you?”

Paige groaned, pushing the pillow away and sitting up, rubbing her face. “Jana, I swear to God—”

“No, you swear to God what?” Jana folded her arms, staring her down. “If you’re not drowning in your own sadness inside this dorm, you’re whoring around. And when you’re done, you come back here and I hear someone sobbing in the middle of the night. Do you have any idea how fucking creepy that is?”

Paige’s jaw tightened. “Mind your business.”

“Oh, I would love to, except my business is being your roommate, which means I’m forced to watch this self-destructive spiral firsthand.” Jana shot back. “You’ve been slacking at practice, Paige. Coach is bound to notice soon, and I swear I have no idea how the hell he hasn’t already.”

Paige ran a hand down her face. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

Silence. Paige refused to meet Jana’s gaze.

Jana exhaled sharply, pulling out her phone. “You leave me no choice.”

“What are you doing?” Paige asked, barely interested.

Jana put the phone to her ear. “Calling Azzi. Someone who actually gives a damn about you and will get through that thick-ass skull of yours.”

Paige finally looked up, but before she could protest, Jana turned her back and walked toward her room, waiting for the call to connect.

An hour later, Azzi was standing in the dorm, arms crossed as she took in the sight of Paige.

“Damn, P, you look like shit.”

Paige scoffed, shaking her head. “Thanks.”

Azzi sighed, walking over and sitting on the couch beside her. Jana was leaning against the counter, arms still folded, watching.

“Alright, talk to me,” Azzi said. “What’s going on?”

Paige stared at the floor. “Nothing.”

Azzi scoffed. “Try again.”

Paige remained quiet. Azzi nudged her knee. “Paige, come on. Jana said you’ve been… spiraling.”

“I’m not spiraling.”

Jana let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, okay. Tell that to the two mugs you leave out every morning like you’re waiting for someone. Or the jacket you sleep with like it’s a person. Or, I don’t know, the fact that you literally tried to swap rooms with me last night.”

Azzi’s brows furrowed. “Paige, talk to us.”

Paige sighed, finally looking up at her. “I just… I thought maybe if I sleep in that room, I wouldn’t—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Azzi studied her for a moment before speaking again, softer this time. “Paige, are you regretting it?”

Paige swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

Azzi tilted her head. “That’s not true. You do know.”

Paige clenched her jaw. “Yeah. I regret it. Okay? I fucking regret everything.”

Jana and Azzi shared a look, but neither said anything. Paige exhaled harshly, rubbing her temples.

“I pushed her away,” Paige admitted, her voice quieter now. “I thought… I don’t know. I thought it was for the best. But now she’s gone, and I feel like I can’t breathe. She won’t even look at me, and I don’t blame her.”

Azzi watched her for a long moment before nodding. “Then fix it.”

Paige let out a dry laugh. “How? She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Azzi leaned forward, leveling her with a look. “Then make her want to. Do something, Paige. Anything. Don’t just sit here and drown in your own misery.”

Paige ran a hand through her hair, looking away. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Azzi stood up, patting Paige’s knee before walking toward the door. “Follow your heart, P. That’s always a good place to start.”

With that, she left. Jana lingered for a moment before shaking her head. “She’s right, you know.”

Paige stayed silent.

Jana sighed. “Figure it out before it’s too late.” Then she walked off, leaving Paige alone with her thoughts.

For the first time in weeks, Paige realized how loud the silence was.

It started last Monday. At first, you thought you were imagining things. Maybe it was just a coincidence. But now? Now it’s beyond coincidence.

Paige Bueckers is everywhere.

At first, it was subtle. You’d glance up in class and find her staring—not the casual, spaced-out kind of staring, but the kind that burns. The kind that makes the back of your neck prickle. The second your eyes met, she looked away, but it happened too often to be a fluke. Then, in the library, as you and your roommate, Lena, buried yourselves in research for your project, Paige conveniently ended up at a table nearby. She wasn’t even pretending to study, just flipping through a textbook she clearly had no interest in. She was listening. Watching.

Then, today happened.

You and Lena were walking through campus, laughing over some dumb joke, when suddenly, Paige materialized in front of you, effectively cutting you off. You stumbled back a step, startled.

Paige barely glanced at you before her sharp, ice-blue eyes landed on Lena. “You don’t have class right now?” Her tone was flat, almost accusatory.

Lena, unfazed, raised an eyebrow. “No? Why?”

Paige tilted her head, expression unreadable. “Just wondering why you’re always up in her space.”

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

Paige ignored you, her eyes still locked onto Lena. The hostility in her gaze was clear. It didn’t make sense—she and Lena weren’t even acquaintances, just classmates. And yet, Paige was looking at her like she’d just stolen something from her.

Lena scoffed, crossing her arms. “I dunno, Paige. Maybe because we’re partners for a project?”

Paige let out a short, humorless chuckle, shaking her head like she didn’t believe a word of it. “Right.”

And then, just as suddenly as she appeared, she turned and walked away, leaving you both staring after her.

“What the actual fuck was that?” Lena muttered.

You had no answer. But one thing was clear—Paige wasn’t done.

The encounters kept coming, each one pushing the boundaries of coincidence.

In class, she always found a way to sit near you, even though she never used to care about seating arrangements. Her foot would nudge yours under the table, and when you moved away, she’d do it again, just to let you know she was there. When the professor asked a question, she answered louder than necessary, like she needed you to hear her voice.

In the dining hall, if you were with Lena, Paige would always pass by. Always. You’d see her walking one way, then five minutes later, she’d pass by again, this time slower, glancing at your table but never stopping.

You knew what she was doing, but you didn’t know why.

And you refused to acknowledge it.

Then came today, the final straw.

You and Lena were in the common study area, laptops open, deep in conversation about the project. You were actually enjoying yourself—things had been lighter, easier lately, now that Paige wasn’t in your space every second of the day.

But, of course, that didn’t last long.

The door opened, and in walked Paige.

She didn’t even pretend she was there for anything else. She walked straight up to your table, her presence a heavy weight in the room.

“Lena, you can go now.”

Lena blinked, then let out a laugh, looking at you as if asking, ‘Is she serious?’

You clenched your jaw. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Paige’s gaze snapped to yours, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” You forced yourself to stay composed. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

Paige exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair in frustration. She glanced at Lena again, and for the first time, it hit you—this wasn’t just her being weird. Is she jealous?

Of Lena?

Of all the things Paige had done, this was the most unexpected. And maybe the most infuriating.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snapped. “You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me, and now you’re—what? Following me? Harassing my friends?”

Paige flinched like you’d hit her, but just as quickly, her expression hardened. “I never said I wanted nothing to do with you.”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You didn’t have to.”

Paige’s jaw clenched. For a second, it looked like she wanted to say something, but then she just shook her head, muttered something under her breath, and walked out.

Lena whistled low. “Damn. That was intense.”

You didn’t respond. Your hands were still shaking.

Because for the first time, you saw it—Paige wasn’t just being annoying.

She was fighting for you.

But you had no idea why.

You were hunched over your desk, fingers tapping lazily against the keyboard as you worked on your project with your roommate. The soft hum of lo-fi music played in the background, a comfortable contrast to the quiet concentration filling the room. For once, things felt normal again. No unexpected drama, no lingering glances in class, no unwanted tension. Just you, your work, and your new friend.

But peace never lasted long when Paige Bueckers was involved.

The sharp knock at the door shattered the calm, making both you and your roommate jump slightly. You frowned. No one ever came over this late. Lena shot you a questioning look, but you ignored it as you got up to open the door.

And there she was.

Paige stood in the doorway, her breathing uneven like she had sprinted all the way here. Her eyes, those sharp blues that you had once admired, looked wild—desperate. You blinked, taking a step back out of sheer instinct.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Your voice was cold, detached, but your heart was hammering against your ribs.

Paige’s gaze flickered over your shoulder, where your roommate was still sitting, staring at the both of you in confusion. And then it clicked.

Her jaw clenched. “So this is what you’ve been up to?”

You scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You and her.” Paige gestured sharply toward your roommate, her entire body tensing like she was ready for a fight. “This is why you were so quick to move on? Didn’t took you long, huh?”

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Are you serious right now?”

“Paige, I think you need to—” your roommate started, but Paige cut her off with a glare.

“Stay out of this,” she snapped, her voice laced with venom.

Your roommate raised her hands in surrender before shooting you a look, silently asking if you wanted her to leave. You gave a slight nod. With a sigh, she grabbed her laptop and muttered something about studying in the common room before slipping out the door.

The second it shut, Paige turned back to you, her chest rising and falling heavily. “So that’s it?” she demanded. “You just replaced me?”

Your blood boiled. “You made me leave.”

Paige flinched.

“You think I wanted to move out?” you continued, stepping closer, anger seeping through your words. “You think I wanted to lose my home—my comfort—because you decided I wasn’t good enough to be around anymore?”

“That’s not—” Paige ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “That’s not what happened.”

“Then tell me, Paige,” you shot back. “Tell me what happened. Why did you push me away? Why did you act like I didn’t exist, like I meant nothing, and now, suddenly, you’re here, acting like you have a say in my life?”

Paige exhaled sharply, like she was trying to hold herself together. “Because I was scared, alright?” she admitted. “I was fucking scared.”

You frowned. “Scared of what?”

“Of you.” Her voice cracked, raw and unfiltered. “Of how much I fucking need you.”

Silence.

Your chest ached, but you refused to let yourself soften. “No,” you said. “You don’t get to do this.”

Paige’s face twisted in frustration. “Do what?”

“This.” You gestured between you both. “You don’t get to throw me away, regret it, and then come back like nothing happened. Like I owe you another chance.”

Paige stepped closer. Too close. You could smell the faint traces of her cologne, could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “I never wanted to throw you away.”

“Then why did you?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Paige swallowed, her gaze searching yours. “Because I thought it would hurt less.”

Your breath hitched. You wanted to believe her. You wanted to believe every damn word. But the wounds she left were still fresh, still aching.

Paige lifted a hand, hesitantly brushing her fingers against your arm. Your body tensed, and for a split second, you considered leaning in. Considered falling back into the warmth that once felt like home.

But then reality hit you like a train.

“Did you love me?” you asked suddenly, your voice quiet but firm. “Or was it just your fleeting desire?”

Paige’s eyes widened, her hand dropping like she had been burned. “What?”

“You heard me.” You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “Because right now, it feels like you only wanted me when it was convenient. When you needed me. When you wanted something to hold at night.”

Paige shook her head quickly. “No. No, that’s not—”

“Then why did you push me away?” you cut her off. “Why did you make me feel like I was nothing, Paige?”

Paige’s lips parted, but no words came out. For the first time, she had nothing to say.

You nodded, feeling your chest tighten. “That’s what I thought.”

You turned away, gripping the edge of your desk to keep your hands from shaking. “Go home, Paige.”

She hesitated, lingering in the doorway like she wanted to say more. But in the end, she didn’t.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the second she was gone, you finally allowed yourself to breathe.

And that was the last time you saw Paige Bueckers, at least face to face.

It had been weeks since that confrontation in your dorm, and in that time, she had become a ghost. She stopped acknowledging you in the hallways, in class. Stopped being anywhere you were, as if you had never existed to her at all.

You were furious, humiliated, and worst of all—hurt. Because you haven't been the one to walk away first. You haven't been the one to set everything on fire and leave without looking back. She had.

And you couldn’t even get an explanation.

You left UConn the second you could.

Graduated, packed up your life, and never looked back.

There were moments, of course, where you wanted to—when a game would come on TV and you'd see her on the screen, or when you'd overhear someone talking about women’s basketball and her name would come up like a legend in the making.

But you trained yourself to tune it out. Paige Bueckers didn’t exist in your world anymore.

You built a new life.

Moved to the city, got a stable job in a company downtown, found a beautiful apartment just perfect for you to live in, a loving best friend who makes your life a little bit happier. She knew about Paige, about the past, about everything that had nearly ruined you.

“You don’t miss her?” she had asked once.

You hesitated, then shook your head. “No. I miss who I thought she was.”

And it was true.

Paige had been your friend, your roommate, your almost-something before she threw it all away. If you missed anything, it was the version of her that didn’t exist anymore—the one who used to wait up for you in your dorm, who used to shove an extra granola bar into your bag before class, who used to look at you like you were the only person in the room.

But that Paige was gone.

Or so you thought.

Because on a random Friday night, in a bar you had never seen her in before, you looked up—and there she was.

Years older. Sharper. The weight of her career settling into her features like something heavy, something unshakable.

And she was looking directly at you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The bar was dimly lit, music thrumming in the background, a blur of conversations and clinking glasses filling the space between you. And yet, all Paige could focus on was you. Sitting at the far end of the room, elbow resting on the bar counter, a half-empty glass in front of you.

You looked different. Not just older, not just sharper, but—settled. Like life had been kinder to you than it had been to her.

And for a split second, something flashed in your eyes. Recognition? Discomfort? She didn’t know. But she knew one thing for sure—you weren’t happy to see her.

You turned back to your drink, pretending she wasn’t there. Pretending she hadn’t just unraveled years of carefully built distance with one look.

But ignoring you had never been easy for Paige.

Minutes passed, maybe more, and just when she thought she should leave, she found herself walking toward you instead. The pull was still there, even after all this time.

She stopped beside you, close enough to feel the warmth of your presence but not enough to invade your space.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Your posture stiffened, but you didn’t turn to her right away. Instead, you took a slow sip of your drink, as if gathering your thoughts. “Yeah, well. Life’s full of surprises.”

She let out a breath that could’ve been a laugh, but there was no humor in it.

Paige didn’t know what she expected—maybe that you’d brush her off, maybe that you’d demand answers she still wasn’t sure how to give. But as she stood there, watching you, she realized she needed to ask. Needed to know.

“Are you happy?”

She saw the way your fingers tightened around your glass, the way your shoulders locked like you were bracing for impact. You turned to her then, eyes sharp, guarded.

“Why do you care?”

Paige swallowed. She didn’t have an answer you’d want to hear. Didn’t have the right words to explain why she had walked away back then. Why she had forced you out of her life when all she had ever wanted was to pull you closer.

But she had to know. Had to believe that what she did had been worth something. That the sacrifice she made—the one that shattered her, the one you never even knew about—had meant something in the end.

She looked away, swirling the remnants of her drink in her glass. And finally, almost too quiet to be heard—

“Because I had to believe it was worth it.”

Your expression flickered, something unreadable flashing in your eyes, but Paige saw the moment your walls went up. The moment you shut her out, just as she had once done to you.

You pushed back from the bar, grabbing your coat.

“You don’t get to ask me that, Paige.”

Her stomach twisted. She wanted to stop you, wanted to explain—but she didn’t. She just sat there, watching you walk out of the bar, out into the cold night air, leaving her behind.

Just like she had left you.

The cold night air did little to settle the storm in Paige’s chest.

She watched you leave, her fingers twitching against the condensation of her glass, an old instinct screaming at her to run after you. To stop you. But she stayed rooted to the barstool, letting the moment slip through her fingers like so many others before it.

Maybe she deserved that.

No, she definitely deserved that.

But that didn’t mean she was done. Not this time.

A week passed. Then two.

Paige told herself she wouldn’t look for you, wouldn’t make this harder than it needed to be. But then she saw you again—by chance or by fate, she wasn’t sure.

The coffee shop was tucked in a quiet corner of the city, one she rarely went to, but there you were.

Sitting by the window, scrolling through your phone, completely unaware that her world had just tilted on its axis again.

Paige took a slow breath, adjusting the cap on her head, as if that would somehow make her presence less jarring. She told herself to leave, that she had no reason to be here. But her feet moved before she could stop them.

And then she was standing in front of you.

You looked up, blinking in surprise before your expression hardened.

“Seriously?”

She had the audacity to smile. Just a little. “Hey.”

You exhaled sharply, setting your phone down. “What are you doing here?”

She hesitated, because she could lie—say she was just grabbing coffee, pretend this was another coincidence. But she was done lying, done pretending.

So she pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, ignoring the way your brows shot up in disbelief.

“I wanted to see you.”

Your jaw tightened. “Paige—”

“Look, I know you don’t owe me anything. I know I left and that I never gave you a real explanation. And I know that seeing me again is probably the last thing you want.”

You stayed silent, watching her carefully. Paige took that as a sign to keep going.

“But I just—I just need to talk to you. Not about the past. Just—just let me sit here for a minute.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You discarded me, Paige. And now you just want to sit and talk?”

The words stung, sharp and direct, but she didn’t flinch. She nodded instead, fingers clenching against her thigh. “Yeah. I do.”

You studied her for a long moment, something flickering in your expression.

Then, with an exasperated sigh, you leaned back. “Fine. But I’m not making this easy for you.”

Paige let out a quiet breath. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The conversation started awkward, filled with stilted small talk and long pauses. But Paige didn’t mind. She wasn’t here for easy. She was here for you.

And if she had to work for it, she would.

She’d spent years running from what she wanted.

Now, she was ready to chase it.

Paige had always been good at winning.

On the court, she knew how to read plays, how to adjust, how to push through obstacles until she got what she wanted.

But you weren’t a game. You weren’t something she could just strategize her way back into.

And that terrified her more than anything.

A week after your reluctant coffee shop conversation, Paige saw you again.

This time, it wasn’t by accident.

She knew where to find you—your favorite bookstore, a quiet place tucked away from the chaos of the city.

She told herself she wouldn’t approach you, that she’d just catch a glimpse, maybe remind herself that you were still here, still real. But when she spotted you in one of the aisles, she couldn’t stop herself.

“You really like this place, huh?”

You turned, startled at first, then visibly annoyed when you realized who it was.

“Paige.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Not here to bother you. Just… thought I’d check out some books.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Since when do you read?”

Paige smirked. “Since now.”

You exhaled, clearly debating whether to engage or ignore her. Eventually, you turned back to the shelf, tracing the spines with absent fingers.

Paige stayed a few feet away, not pushing, not forcing conversation. Just existing in your space, letting you get used to her being there.

And maybe—just maybe—hoping you’d let her stay.

Over the next few weeks, she found ways to slip into your life, never demanding too much, never making it obvious.

A casual nod when she saw you at a café. A brief conversation in passing. A small joke here, a quiet comment there.

She didn’t expect you to trust her again overnight. She wasn’t that naive.

But she wanted you to see she wasn’t going anywhere this time.

She wanted you to know she was serious.

Paige exhaled, gripping the strap of her gym bag as she stood outside the arena.

She had invited you to the game tonight.

You hadn’t said yes. But you hadn’t said no either.

And when she looked up, scanning the crowd filtering through the entrance, she saw you.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

You weren’t alone—your friends flanked you, keeping the atmosphere light, but Paige could see the tension in your posture. Like you weren’t sure why you had come.

But you were here.

That was enough.

For now.

Paige played like she had something to prove.

Not to the crowd. Not to the coaches.

To you.

Every shot, every pass, every moment on the court was a silent message—Look at me. See what I can be.

And when the final buzzer sounded, when the game was won and the cheers rang loud, her eyes searched for you again.

You were still there.

Watching.

After the game, she found you by the exit, waiting.

She approached carefully, wiping the sweat from her forehead, heart pounding louder than it had on the court.

“You stayed.”

You shrugged, arms crossed. “You played well.”

Paige took a slow breath. “Thanks.”

A beat of silence stretched between you, the years of distance still palpable.

Then, softly—“Why now, Paige?”

Her throat tightened.

Because I already gave you your normal life. Now it’s my turn to have a life with you.

But she didn’t say that. Not yet.

Instead, she let a small smile tug at her lips. “Because I’m done running.”

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

Paige had never been good at waiting.

But she had to be patient now.

The next morning, she found herself lingering by her phone, resisting the urge to text you. It had taken everything in her to tell you she was done running, but words meant nothing without action. And she wasn’t about to mess this up again by moving too fast.

Instead, she let things happen naturally.

Days passed, and Paige made sure to be present without pushing too hard. Little moments—liking your posts when she never used to, casually showing up at places she knew you’d be. Each interaction was subtle, an unspoken invitation.

She had spent so many years keeping her distance that she had to relearn how to be in your orbit.

And she knew you noticed.

One evening, she saw her chance.

A mutual friend’s birthday dinner. You were there, seated with a few others, and Paige made a deliberate choice to sit across from you.

Not next to you. That would be too much.

Just close enough that you couldn’t ignore her.

She watched the way you stiffened slightly when she greeted you, then relaxed into neutrality. That was progress.

The night went on, and as conversations swirled around the table, Paige kept her focus split—engaging with the others but never letting you fade into the background.

Then came the moment that caught her off guard.

Someone cracked a joke about past relationships, and the table erupted into laughter. But Paige felt her pulse spike when your gaze flickered—just briefly—to her.

It was gone in an instant, but she caught it.

You weren’t unaffected by her presence.

And she held onto that.

After dinner, she found you outside, waiting for your ride.

Paige hesitated, then stepped closer, standing beside you in silence. The cool air was thick with unspoken things.

Finally, she murmured, “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

You gave a small shrug. “I almost didn’t come.”

Paige’s chest tightened. “But you did.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Why are you suddenly around again, Paige?”

She exhaled slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I told you. I’m done running.”

You looked away, as if weighing her words. Paige could tell you weren’t convinced yet. And that was fair. She had spent years pushing you away.

But she had time now.

She was going to prove it.

You scoffed, exhaling sharply. “That doesn’t mean anything, Paige. Not after everything.”

Her throat tightened. “Then tell me how to make it mean something.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, frustration bubbling over. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t just get to decide when you want to be here. You disappeared, Paige. You left me with nothing. No explanation, no closure—just gone.”

She flinched. She deserved that. Every word.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “I thought—”

“You thought what?” you snapped. “That I couldn’t handle your world? That I wasn’t enough?”

She ran a hand down her face, the weight of her silence pressing between you. Then, finally—

“Because you said you wanted a normal life.”

Your breath hitched.

Paige looked at you then, really looked at you, and her expression was raw. “You said you wanted normal, and I knew I could never give that to you. So I let you have it.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy.

Then, your laugh came—sharp, disbelieving. “You let me have it? Are you kidding me? You never even gave me a choice, Paige.”

Her jaw clenched, guilt washing over her. “I know. I was scared. I convinced myself I was doing what was best for you. But it wasn’t my decision to make.”

You shook your head, years of frustration unraveling in real time. “Damn right, it wasn’t.”

Paige exhaled shakily. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. But if you’ll let me, I want to prove that I’m not going anywhere this time.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. Because for the first time, the truth was laid bare between you.

And now, the choice was finally yours.

Paige didn’t wait for your answer that night.

Because this time, she wasn’t just asking.

She was proving.

The shift was subtle at first. But undeniable.

Paige started showing up. Not just at events or places where she could conveniently cross paths with you, but in ways that made it impossible to ignore her presence.

A text—simple, direct: I know I don’t deserve it, but can we talk?

A coffee order at your desk one morning—your exact order, no note, just an unspoken understanding.

A glance from across the room that held more weight than a thousand words.

She was making it clear—she was done running.

But were you ready to stop running too?

It all came to a head one night when you found yourself at a restaurant with mutual friends. You weren’t expecting her to be there.

But she was.

And she wasn’t alone.

Paige sat with her teammates, but her attention never wavered from you. Even as conversations swirled around the table, she only seemed aware of one thing—where you were, who you were talking to, how close someone else was standing.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible pull, she excused herself. And when you stepped outside for air, she followed.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” she asked, voice steady but soft.

You sighed, leaning against the railing. “Paige, I don’t know what to believe.”

She hesitated, then took a step closer. “Then let me say it again. I was wrong. I was wrong to decide for you. I was wrong to leave. And I was wrong to think I could be happy without you.”

Your chest tightened. “You don’t get to say that now. You made your choice.”

Her jaw clenched. “And I’ve regretted it every single day since.”

Silence stretched, thick with years of unsaid things.

Then, softer this time—“You wanted a normal life. I wanted to give that to you.”

You turned to face her fully. “And what if I wanted you more?”

Her breath caught.

For the first time, she looked shaken. Vulnerable. “Then let me fix it.”

You let out a slow exhale. “How?”

She didn’t hesitate. “By showing you that my world can be yours, too. That this—us—can work.”

A beat. Then another.

And then, finally—

“Let me try.”

And for the first time in years, maybe—just maybe—you considered letting her.

Paige didn’t expect an answer that night.

The weight of her confession still hung in the air, and she knew you needed time. She had stolen your choice once—she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

But she wasn’t done fighting for you. Not this time.

She started showing up even more. Not just at the places she knew you would be, but in the ways that mattered.

She learned your schedule, not to intrude but to be available. If you needed space, she gave it. If you wanted presence, she provided it.

Little by little, she wove herself back into your life.

When you had a late-night work event, she sent an Uber to make sure you got home safely. When you had a rough day, she texted without expecting a reply: Just so you know, I’m here.

And when you finally started responding—small things at first, short answers, a dry remark here and there—she took it as progress.

Because you weren’t ignoring her anymore.

The night everything changed, she found you alone on the balcony at a mutual friend’s gathering.

“You hate crowds,” she noted, stepping beside you.

You scoffed. “Then why are you here?”

She hesitated, then answered honestly. “Because you are.”

A beat of silence. Then, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “Paige, this… it’s exhausting. I don’t know what you want from me.”

She turned to you, eyes steady. “I want you. I always have.”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “You don’t get to say that now. You left me.”

“I know.” Her voice wavered, but she didn’t look away. “And I hate myself for it. But I can’t change the past. All I can do is ask if there’s still a future for us.”

You stared at her, torn between frustration and something deeper, something that never really left.

Paige swallowed hard. “You said you wanted a normal life. I let you have it. But the truth is… I never wanted normal. I wanted you. And if you’ll let me, I want to give you a life where you don’t have to choose between love and normalcy.”

You exhaled sharply, emotions swirling. “And if I say no?”

Paige’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. “Then I’ll respect it. But I had to try.”

Your fingers curled around the balcony railing. The city stretched before you, endless and full of possibilities.

Finally, you looked at her, searching her face. “Then prove it.”

A slow smile tugged at her lips. “I will.”

And for the first time in years, it felt like something real was beginning again.

The weight of Paige’s confession lingered between you, heavy and unshakable.

You had spent years wondering why she left, why she walked away without a word. And now that you knew the truth, it didn’t make things easier. If anything, it made them harder.

Because she thought she was protecting you. And in doing so, she shattered you.

She didn’t push anymore after that night.

Instead, she let her actions speak.

She showed up. Consistently. Not just when it was easy or convenient. Not just in the spaces where it was expected.

She found ways to be in your world, the one she once thought she had to let you have on your own.

When you had a late night at work, she sent food to your office. When she had a game in your city, she made sure you had the option to come—never asking, just leaving tickets in case. When she was free, she met you where you were instead of expecting you to follow her pace.

And slowly, the walls you built started to crack.

The final step was hers to take.

She invited you to a game—one that mattered. A championship. A moment where the world would be watching her.

She didn’t ask for anything more than your presence.

So you went.

And after the game, when the confetti settled and the cameras pulled back, she found you waiting in the hallway outside the locker room.

Her hair was damp, her jersey still clinging to her. But none of it mattered. Not the victory, not the celebration.

Only you.

“Come with me,” she said, breathless and certain.

You hesitated. “Paige—”

“I already gave you up once. I’m not making that mistake again.” She exhaled, stepping closer. “You got to live your normal life. Now let me have my turn. Let me have you.”

The words struck something deep inside you.

She wasn’t asking you to give up anything. She was asking you to choose.

For the first time, the decision wasn’t made for you.

And this time, you knew your answer.

The mornings were your favorite.

Not because they were peaceful—Paige was anything but quiet.

She hummed while making coffee, danced around the kitchen in nothing but a hoodie and socks, occasionally bumping into you just to steal a kiss.

“You’re in my way,” you muttered as you tried to grab a mug.

She grinned, blocking you with her body. “No, I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away.

Balancing your worlds wasn’t easy, but it was never about easy. It was about effort. About making it work.

Some nights, you were in her world—attending games, sitting courtside, holding her hand in moments she once thought she had to face alone. Other nights, she was in yours—picking up takeout after your long workday, helping fold laundry, blending seamlessly into the life you once thought you had to protect from her.

“You don’t have to do all this,” you had told her once, watching as she stacked plates after dinner.

She gave you a look, one that said you should know better by now. “I want to.”

That was the difference. Before, she thought she had to choose. Now, she refused to.

Later, she lay on the couch with her head in your lap, scrolling through her phone while you absentmindedly ran your fingers through her hair. It was easy now—touching, being close. No tension, no hesitation. Just you and her, like it was always meant to be.

“I have a game in Chicago next week,” she murmured, looking up at you. “Come with me?”

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin. “Hmm… what’s in it for me?”

She sat up, wrapping her arms around your waist, her lips brushing against your ear. “Everything.”

And she meant it.

No more running. No more regrets. Just Paige, and the life you built together.

Finally, home.

taglist:@alilstressyandlotdepressy @iowahawkeyes22 @delusional-day-dreamer @unadulteratedcyclepaper @nicebellee @livelyblues @paige05bby @munchtotally @vicsstufff @bucketbueckers @avvwritesstufff @wheeniemyloove@sarahkaisley@bueckersverse@caffeine-pup@ellehoops@angelliicc@ilomiloblohshh@surferandskater5@marissahowardd@carlaaaisinthehousew@potatobearsworld@celestixldarling@extalstar@averagelobotomyenjoyer@magnificentwastelandarbiter@shartnugget26@maddybuckets@bucketbueckers@drewlilbabe@aaaa46090493 @bebitts @ayyeliensuperstarr @apbueckers @leafoster17 @loudhandsbageldream @evanpeterstoe @geico-insuranc @msvclarkk @tashiagalinda @yailtsv

[cameronsbabydoll]

i would love to know more about their kids finding out how really is their dad after maybe seeing some situation with reader

a/n: this is really sad guys :( i low key want to make like a little part two on maybe her kids getting to like know her better as person not just as their mom and their dads wife

your daughter, now getting older and more perceptive, starts to notice the differences between her life and the lives of her friends. she’s at that age where she’s starting to question the world around her—what’s normal, what isn’t. she sees her friends’ moms working, making their own money, having their own identities outside of the home. they joke about “mom’s night out” or how their mom’s career is a big part of who they are.

but when she looks at you, her mother, all she sees is a woman whose entire life revolves around her father. cooking. cleaning. taking care of the house. going to the spa on the rare occasion that he allows it. she knows it’s not the same, but she’s not sure what’s wrong with it. she’s just starting to feel it—the way you seem to fade into the background sometimes, your happiness coming second to rafe’s demands and expectations.

she knows you love him. she sees the way you try so hard to make everyone happy, but something is off. you’re not the woman you used to be. the woman who laughed and joked and did things just for herself.

one evening, after watching her friends’ moms laugh together at dinner, she quietly retreats to her room. later that night, she knocks on your door, a small frown on her face.

“mom, can i ask you something?” her voice is soft, like she’s trying to figure out if it’s okay to ask. when you invite her in, she sits on the edge of the bed, hesitant.

“is... is that what love is?” she asks, her eyes wide and searching. “like... the way dad is with you? is that how it’s supposed to be?”

your heart drops, and you pause. you know exactly what she’s asking. the quiet control, the way he takes over every aspect of your life, the way your needs have always come last—she’s starting to see it.

“oh sweetheart,” you start, your voice gentle, but it feels heavy. “sometimes... love can look different for everyone. but love should always make you feel safe, and happy... not like you’re always giving up who you are.”

she stares at you, digesting your words carefully. she’s still young, but she’s so intuitive, and she can sense when things aren’t right. she doesn't say anything more, but you can tell she’s still processing it.

the next day, things go quiet at home—rafe’s doing his usual thing, working hard and expecting everything to be perfect. he’s always in control, but today, something feels off. your daughter—she’s been distant, quieter, not her usual bouncy self. you can tell she’s still thinking about it.

later, she seeks him out. maybe it’s during one of those rare moments when he’s sitting at the table, looking over his phone or documents. she walks up to him, not shy, but cautious. he looks up at her, a little surprised by the seriousness in her demeanor.

“dad,” she starts, her voice soft but firm, “is that what a husband is supposed to be? like, the way you’re with mom? is that how it’s supposed to be when you’re married?”

her question hits him like a punch to the gut. for a moment, he’s taken aback, unsure how to respond. she’s not being disrespectful—she’s asking a question. a question he hasn’t really thought about. he tries to brush it off, giving her one of his usual answers, the ones that always work:

“your mother and i have an arrangement, honey. everything fine. this is just how things work.”

but the doubt in her eyes lingers.

“but mom doesn’t smile like she used to,” she says quietly, almost as if she’s testing him. “she’s always doing things for you, but when does she do things for herself?”

that question hangs in the air between them. and for the first time, rafe doesn’t know how to answer. he can feel the shift in the atmosphere. his daughter is growing up. she’s starting to see past the surface. and it’s not just about the way he controls everything anymore—it’s about her mother.

for the first time, he feels a crack in his carefully constructed world. his grip on everything, including her, is slipping, and the unsettling thought is almost enough to make him confront the truth.

but he doesn’t.

meanwhile, his eldest son has been observing all of this from the sidelines. he sees the way his sister looks at rafe with those wide, questioning eyes, and he can’t help but feel vindicated. he’s always been more judgmental, more aware of the tension at home, but this? this is the moment when it all falls into place.

his friends’ moms have jobs, careers, lives outside of the house. they don’t have to ask for their space—they just have it. their moms are people in their own right, not just extensions of their husbands. he’s starting to see his mom in a new light—not just as his mother, but as a person, a woman who has been diminished by the constant control and the expectation to please.

and the more he sees his dad try to sweep it under the rug with empty promises or distractions, the more he wants to step in. but what can he do? he’s just a kid, too.

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

rafe convincing reader to stay at his house (the one in season four) and extra spoils her with her favorite things around the house, and even shows her the nursery he’s built

༄｡° building something real - rafe cameron

series masterlist

The sun was melting into the ocean, casting a warm glow over Rafe’s new beachfront house—a place he’d carved out on his own, far from Tanneyhill’s heavy echoes. You stood on the porch, arms crossed, your bags still in your car. You hadn’t committed to staying, not yet. Change loomed too large—the baby, your shifting world—and this house felt like one more leap you weren’t sure you could take. But Rafe was there, pacing in front of you, his usual sharpness softened into something tender, something that reminded you of the way he’d talked you down before, his voice gentle and sure.

“I know you’re scared,” he said, reading you like he always did, his blue eyes catching the last light of the day. “I get it—everything’s moving fast, with the baby, with us. But this—” he gestured to the house, the waves beyond it—“this isn’t more chaos. It’s a fresh start, like we talked about. For you, for me, for them.”

You stared at the horizon, not quite ready to meet his gaze. He’d convinced you once before, his words so caring they’d chipped away at your doubts about a house together. Now he was trying again. He stepped closer, taking your hand with a softness that still surprised you. “Come inside,” he murmured. “Let me show you.”

You let him guide you through the door, the scent of fresh paint and cedar hitting you as you entered the open living space. It was beautiful—big windows, warm tones, the ocean stretching out endlessly. Then you saw the pieces of you he’d tucked into it: your favorite books stacked on the counter, worn and loved; a bowl of those sour candies you craved lately; a blue throw blanket—your shade—draped over the couch; a speaker playing your playlist, soft and familiar.

“You did this?” you asked, voice quiet, tracing the edges of the blanket with your fingers.

“Yeah,” Rafe said, hands in his pockets, watching you closely. “I’ve been paying attention. I know change freaks you out right now—I get it, with the baby and everything. But I wanted this to feel like home, not just some new place. There’s more, though. Come with me.”

He led you down the hall, stopping at a closed door. Your heart thudded as he pushed it open, revealing a nursery.

Soft gray walls, a white crib with a starry mobile twirling above it, a rocking chair in the corner, a shelf of little books and plush toys, a crescent moon rug. On the wall, framed, was your ultrasound photo—the tiny shape of your baby. Tears sprang to your eyes, hot and sudden, spilling down your cheeks as your hand pressed to your mouth. It wasn’t just the room—it was Rafe, building this, night after night, for the life growing inside you.

“I built it,” he said, voice rough with emotion, stepping closer but giving you space. “For our baby. I’ve been working on it, trying to make it perfect. I know you’re worried about all the changes, but this—this is us starting fresh, together. I want them to have a real home. I want you to have that.”

You turned to him, tears blurring your vision, chest shaking as you tried to hold it together. Rafe’s face softened, a flicker of panic crossing it as he saw you cry. “Hey, I’m not great at this,” he said, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure if you’d want him to hold you. “But I’m trying. I want to be better—for you, for them. Stay with me. Let me take care of you, surround you with all the stuff you love. This isn’t about pushing you—it’s about us building something real.”

The ocean hummed through the open window, the nursery glowing in the fading light. You stood there, tears streaming, caught between the fear of change and the man who’d somehow made it feel safe. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t demanding—just waiting, eyes locked on yours, showing you he meant every word.

©RAFESGREASYCURTAINBANGS ⋆˙⟡ est. 2025

[luna-thecreator]

Settle Down

Paring⤷ Jey Uso x Fem!Reader Plot⤷ Casual sex with Jey Uso is one thing, but catching feelings? That's a whole different story.  WC⤷ 3.9k Tags⤷ Mentions of sex, jealousy, forbidden love, language, heartbreak (but he makes you feel better, promise), slight arguing, crying, emotional

You're too paranoid to even settle down, but the way he makes you cum, he has your feelings now.

"Y/N, do you hear me?" Bianca practically screams in your ear. You don’t hear her, though. The only thing piercing through the noise of the party is the sight of her—this random woman at the bar, flicking her hair like it’s some kind of weapon, batting her lashes in a way that would make anyone weak. She runs her hand down Jey's arm, and your chest tightens.

You didn’t know her. She wasn’t even here a month ago, some newbie that’s already making a play for the one guy you’ve been playing it cool with. The guy you’ve been sneaking around with, blowing off steam after WWE events in a way you never thought you’d get tangled in. But damn, she’s bold. Your gaze sticks to them like glue, your eyes narrowing as you watch her work her charm on him.

Bianca’s voice cuts through the haze of jealousy building inside you. "Y/N! Bitch you even listening?" she yells, shaking you by the shoulder.

The loud ringing fills your ears, like a thousand bells echoing in your head. You can’t even look away from them—Jey’s smile, the way it’s aimed directly at her, like he’s actually entertained. And that... makes you want to puke. Puerto Rico’s heat is nothing compared to the fire starting in your chest, but you try to calm yourself, try to breathe.

Finally, you snap back to reality, Bianca still hovering over you, her eyes wide with concern. You force out a breath, trying to shake off the feeling of suffocating. "I’m fine... I just need some air," you tell her, the words falling out of your mouth like they belong to someone else.

Bianca raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. "Don’t do anything stupid," she warns. You know she means well, but she has no idea what’s happening in your head right now. You’re not about to stay here and watch that.

You slip away from the crowd, your heels clicking louder than usual as you make your way outside. The cool air of Puerto Rico greets you like a slap in the face, but it's a relief. For a second, you just stand there, letting the quiet of the night settle around you, but it doesn’t last long. That damn jealousy is like a storm rolling through your chest, and it’s only getting worse.

"Shit, I hate this," you mutter to yourself, pacing back and forth.

Your vision blurs, and that damn burning in your chest feels like it’s about to swallow you whole. You don’t want to feel this, but you can’t shake it. Right when you’re about to lose control, you hear footsteps approaching, and Jimmy’s voice cuts through the chaos in your mind.

"Yo... you good?"

You look up and see him standing there, his usual easygoing look on his face, but tonight it doesn’t help. He’s wearing his black fitted shirt, shorts, and Air Forces, his hair pulled back into that ponytail you’ve always admired. But all you can focus on is the tightness in your chest, the lump in your throat.

He’s your best friend, the one person you’ve trusted with everything—but this? This is Jey. And you can’t hold it in anymore.

Before you can stop it, the sobs come, shaking your entire body. You step back, pressing your hands to your face in an attempt to stop the tears, but it’s no use. The dam breaks, and the words spill out in a choked rush.

"I’m so stupid," you gasp, your voice cracking. "I don’t even know why I did this to myself."

Jimmy’s expression shifts instantly, concern flooding his eyes as he steps closer, but you don’t look up at him. You can’t. It’s like the floodgates have opened, and all the feelings you’ve been hiding pour out in a messy, raw confession.

"I’ve... I’ve caught feelings for Jey, Jimmy," you say, each word a weight you didn’t realize you were carrying. "And now seeing him with someone else... It’s... it’s fuckin’ with me." The pain in your chest is almost unbearable, like a knot tightening with every word. "I aint want to let myself fall for him. But I did. And now I can’t... I can’t take this."

Jimmy stands still, completely taken aback. He had no idea what was going on between you and Jey. The quiet moments you shared, the stolen glances, the way your heart beat faster when he was near—all of it, hidden behind the surface.

Jimmy stands there for a moment, processing everything, his face softening with understanding. Then, without a word, he steps forward, pulling you into a tight hug. His arms are steady, grounding you in a way you didn’t expect.

"I ain’t know, Y/N," he says quietly. "I ain’t know you were feeling like this." He holds you a little tighter, like he’s trying to shield you from everything that’s breaking inside. "But whatever you need, I’m here. Always."

The sobs keep coming, and you can barely catch your breath through the blur of tears. The weight in your chest is crushing, suffocating. You’ve kept it all in for so long, pretending everything’s fine, but now it’s spilling out, uncontrollable. And just when you think you might lose it entirely, Jimmy steps back, giving you a little space.

He pulls out a blunt from his pocket, his eyes soft but understanding. “Want some?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t want you having a bad night, and I know a lil’ weed you’ll never turn down.”

You nod, trying to pull yourself together as you wipe at your eyes. It’s not like you haven’t smoked with Jimmy before, and right now, you need anything to calm the storm. You take the blunt from him, the weight of it in your hand almost comforting. Jimmy lights it for you, taking a hit himself before handing it back to you.

“Thanks,” you mutter, inhaling deeply. The smoke fills your lungs, and you hold it in for a second, letting it numb the sharp edge of everything you’ve been feeling. Slowly, you exhale, the haze settling in your head. For a moment, the world doesn’t feel so heavy. You take another hit, this time slower, like it’ll somehow make the chaos inside you less overwhelming.

Jimmy watches you for a second, his hands stuffed in his pockets, waiting. It’s like he knows what’s coming, knows you can’t keep this bottled up much longer.

Finally, you exhale again, feeling the smoke swirl in the air around you, and then you just… spill it. "I’ve been sleeping with Jey," you say, the words coming out all tangled, like they don’t belong to you. But they do. “For months now. After the shows, when we’re both just… wound up, I guess. We hook up, blow off steam. And it’s been like that. No feelings. Nothing serious. Just… a thing.”

You look at Jimmy, his face unreadable. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, but you can’t stop now. You’re too far in. You take another drag from the blunt, feeling the burn in your throat, and continue. “But then, I started feeling stuff, Jim. I didn’t want to. I tried to fight it, but it’s like... with him, it’s different, y’know? The way he looks at me, the way he cares without saying it. I thought maybe it was just… me. Maybe I was just caught up in the moment. But no. I—I really care about him, Jimmy."

Jimmy takes another hit of the blunt, his eyes still on you, but there’s a softness there, like he’s trying to understand what you’re saying. He exhales slowly, the smoke curling in the air between you. “Damn, Y/N,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I had no idea. Like, I knew ya’ll were close, but... damn.” He looks down at the blunt in his hand for a moment, his expression distant. “I didn’t know you were feeling all that.”

You bite your lip, frustrated and embarrassed that this is even happening. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought it was just some casual thing, and now I’m all caught up in it. It’s just—everything’s messed up. I never thought I’d fall for him. I thought I was just, like, some random hookup. But now…” You let out a shaky breath, the weight of it all sinking in. “Now it’s more, and I can’t even deal with it. He doesn’t even know.”

Jimmy’s quiet for a moment, his gaze flicking over to you. He steps closer, offering you the blunt again, but this time, he’s looking at you like he’s got your back. “Look, I can’t say I know what it’s like, but I know one thing,” he says, voice steady. “You deserve to be more than some secret, some hookup. You deserve more than what Jey’s giving you right now.”

You blink at him, unsure how to process that. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, blowing out a puff of smoke. “I mean, if he really feels something for you, he’ll show it. And if not, then… well, you gotta ask yourself if you’re gone keep being in that situation. ‘Cause if you’re feeling this way, you don’t need to hide it, Y/N. You deserve the truth, not some bullshit.”

The words hit you harder than the weed. They sting, but in the best way. He’s right. You know he’s right. You can’t keep pretending this is easy or simple. The whole thing is a mess, and you’re just getting tangled in it. You pull in a shaky breath and blow it out slowly, letting the smoke drift away.

“I’m so scared, Jimmy,” you admit quietly. “I’m scared that if I tell him how I feel, I’ll ruin everything. That he’ll pull away or, worse, he’ll just tell me it was never meant to be serious.”

Jimmy gives you a look—one that’s equal parts sympathy and understanding. “You gotta take that chance, though. You never know what’s gonna happen unless you put yourself out there.”

You look at him, considering his words. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding, to stop pretending like it doesn’t hurt when you see him with someone else. Maybe it’s time to figure out if Jey feels the same. But even so, you can’t help but feel the weight of the uncertainty.

You nod slowly, taking in his words. For the first time tonight, you feel like maybe you’re not completely alone in this shit. You take one more hit from the blunt, letting the smoke fill your lungs as you process everything, trying to find the courage to finally face the truth about what you want and where you go from here.

"Go take a walk, heard there’s a beach nearby. Clear your head a bit."

You nod slowly, appreciating the idea. You need that space, even if it’s just a few minutes. But before you can move, Jimmy adds, "But imma go talk to him."

Your heart skips a beat. "Wait, what?" You look up at him, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah,” he says casually, taking another hit from the blunt. “I’m gonna talk to Jey. See what the hell’s goin’ on. You need answers, and I’m not gonna let him play you like that.”

You want to stop him, to tell him not to, but something about the way he says it makes you feel both grateful and terrified. Jimmy’s loyal. He’s always had your back, and now he's stepping in to help you with something you don’t even have the courage to face yourself. Still, you can’t help the panic that creeps into your chest at the thought of him confronting Jey.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” you ask, the words coming out shaky. You hate the vulnerability in your voice, but it’s impossible to hide. "What if he doesn’t... I mean, what if it makes things worse?"

Jimmy shrugs, a carefree expression on his face despite the tension in the air. "If he’s playing games, I’m gonna let him know. You don’t deserve that. But if he’s feeling the same, then maybe it’ll clear the air, you know?"

You hesitate, biting your lip, but then nod. “Okay... I guess.”

Jimmy shoots you a reassuring look. "Don’t worry about it, girl. Go get some air. Get your head right. I’ll handle this shit."

You watch him for a second, then turn toward the direction of the beach, the sound of the waves crashing faint in the distance. The air is cool, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you might be able to breathe again. But a part of you stays tangled in the mess of emotions, unsure of what’s going to happen next.

You start walking, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the soft sand beneath your feet. The beach is empty, just you and the distant ocean stretching out under the Puerto Rican sky. It feels peaceful, but the storm inside you is far from calm.

As you walk, you think about Jey—how he makes you feel, how you’re not sure what any of this is anymore. The thought of him with that girl at the bar still stings, but Jimmy’s words keep echoing in your mind. You deserve more than this. You deserve to know where you stand.

You let the waves crash against the shore, the saltwater breeze hitting your skin, but in the back of your mind, you can’t help but wonder if you’re about to get answers that you’ve been too scared to ask for.

Jey's POV

This girl won’t stop talking to me.

She’s been running her mouth for the past ten fuckin’ minutes, touching my arm, laughing a little too hard at things I barely even said. I been fake-smiling, nodding along, throwing in a couple “that’s crazy”s, but she ain’t getting the hint. I ain’t even really hearing what she’s saying at this point. My eyes keep scanning the room, looking for something—someone—else to focus on. But before I can spot her, I see Jimmy walking up, nodding at me like yo, we need to talk.

Thank God.

I exhale, brushing the girl off with a quick, “Aight, imma talk to you later,” not even waiting for a response before I make my way to Jimmy.

“Wassup, uce?” I say, dapping him up real quick.

Jimmy looks me dead in the eye, no hesitation. “When was you gon’ tell me you fuckin’ Y/N?”

My whole body tenses.

What?

I feel my stomach drop, but I play it cool, keeping my face neutral. “Bruh, what the hell you talkin’ bout?” I mutter, grabbing his arm and yanking him into the hallway, away from the noise and the crowd. My heart’s already beating fast, my mind racing. How the fuck does he know?

Jimmy leans against the wall, arms crossed, giving me that look—like he already got all the answers and he’s just waiting on me to stop bullshitting. “Don’t play dumb, bruh,” he says, voice low but firm. “She just told me everything.”

I swear my heart skips a beat.

Everything?

I swallow hard, shifting on my feet. “Man, she trippin’—”

“Nah,” Jimmy cuts me off, shaking his head. “She ain’t trippin’. She’s hurt, uce. She thinks you don’t feel nothin’ for her, and meanwhile, you over here lettin’ some random hoe rub up on you like she don’t exist.”

My jaw clenches. “It ain’t even like that.”

Jimmy scoffs. “Then what is it like?”

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face. My mind’s all over the place, my chest tight as hell. Y/N told him? She never said shit to me. Not about feelings. Not about wanting more. And yeah, I been feeling some type of way about her too, but I ain’t never been good at this type of thing. I don’t do the whole talk about your emotions shit.

Jimmy tilts his head, waiting. He knows me too well. Knows when I’m holding back.

“You care about her, don’t you?” he finally says.

I stay quiet.

Jimmy huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Man, you so damn stupid.”

That makes me snap. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re actin’ like you ain’t already in too deep,” he says, pushing off the wall. “I saw the way you looked at her earlier. And now she’s outside damn near breakin’ down ‘cause she thinks she’s just a hookup to you.”

I look away, jaw tight.

She really thinks that?

The thought alone makes my stomach twist up and shit. I never wanted her to feel like that. Yeah, we started this whole thing just messing around, but it stopped being just sex a long time ago. I been trying to keep it low, trying not to make it messy, but I should’ve known Y/N would get in my head, under my skin.

She already got me.

I take a deep breath, rubbing the back of my neck. “Where she at?” I ask, voice low.

Jimmy smirks, like he knew this was coming. “Took a walk to the beach.”

I nod, already moving toward the door. Jimmy claps a hand on my shoulder as I pass him. “Fix this, bruh,” he mutters. “Before you lose her.”

I don’t even answer. I just step out of the house, the warm Puerto Rican night air hitting me as I make my way toward the beach—toward her.

Your POV

The beach is quiet, nobody but you. Just the waves crashing, the salty breeze tangling in your hair, and the distant hum of the party still going on back at the house. It’s just you and the ocean, but somehow, the silence is the loudest thing you’ve heard all night.

You sink into the sand, stretching your legs out in front of you, the cool grains clinging to your skin. Your flared mini orange skirt fans out around your thighs, the matching top hugging your body, but you don’t feel cute right now. You feel stupid. Your heels sit beside you, abandoned, because what’s the point of looking put together when you feel like you’re falling apart inside?

You lean back on your hands, staring out at the waves, trying to process everything.

You shouldn’t have caught feelings. That was the rule. That was the one damn rule you set for yourself when this whole thing with Jey started. Casual. No strings. No messy emotions. But now? Now your chest is heavy, and your eyes sting, and you can still see that girl all over him like you weren’t even in the same damn room. Like you were nothing.

You press your lips together, shaking your head at yourself. I’m so stupid, you think bitterly. I don’t even know why I did this to myself.

A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it, and you wipe it away quickly, annoyed at yourself for even crying over this. Over him. He was never yours, so why does it feel like you just lost something?

"MA!"

You hear a familiar voice behind you, cutting through the sound of the waves. Your stomach tightens, and when you turn around, there he is—Jey, jogging toward you, his face set in something between frustration and urgency. The sight of him makes your breath hitch, but the anger that’s been simmering in your chest all night flares right back up.

“What do you want, Jey?” you snap, standing up before he even reaches you. Your voice is sharp, and you don’t care. Not anymore. You’re too hurt, too pissed off to hold it in.

He slows to a stop in front of you, chest rising and falling like he ran straight from the house to find you. “We needa talk,” he says, tone firm, eyes locked onto yours.

You let out a short, humorless laugh, crossing your arms. “Oh, now you wanna talk?”

Jey sighs, running a hand over his head. “Come on, ma, don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” You step closer, your voice rising. “Act like I don’t give a damn when I do? Act like seeing you with some random girl all over you doesn’t make me feel like shit?”

His jaw tightens. “It wasn’t even like that—”

“Oh, really?” you cut him off. “’Cause from where I was standing, it sure as hell looked like that.”

Jey groans, tilting his head back like he’s trying to keep his cool. “Man, I wasn’t even paying attention to her! She was just talking, I was tryna be nice—”

“Nice?” You scoff, shaking your head. “Jey, I was right there. And you didn’t even look at me. Not once.” Your voice cracks on that last part, and you hate it, but it’s too late to take it back.

His expression shifts—just for a second. Like your words actually hit him.

“I ain’t know you felt like that,” he says, quieter now.

You swallow hard, blinking up at him. “Yeah, well... now you do.”

Silence hangs between you. The waves crash against the shore, the wind tangles through your hair, but the only thing you feel is the heat of his gaze on you.

Jey exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You laugh again, but this time, it’s bitter. “Tell you what, Jey? That I caught feelings when I wasn’t supposed to? That I fell for you when this was only supposed to be a thing?” You take a shaky breath, voice lowering. “That every time you touch me, I wanna believe it means something?”

Jey just stares at you, like he doesn’t know what to say. Like he’s struggling to put it into words.

You shake your head, stepping back. “You know what? Fuck it. This was a mistake. I’m a mistake.”

Jey’s eyes flash with something—anger, frustration, desperation—you can’t tell. But then, before you can turn away, he grabs your wrist, pulling you back toward him. “Nah. Don’t say that shit,” he mutters, voice rough. “You ain’t a mistake, ma.”

Your breath catches, but you force yourself to stay firm. “Then what am I?”

Jey’s grip tightens, his jaw clenching like he’s fighting himself. Like this is hard for him too. And then, suddenly, it all spills out.

“You everything, Y/N.” His voice is raw, filled with something you’ve never heard from him before. “You all I think about. You all I want—and I been too much of a dumbass to say it.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. “Then why—”

“’Cause I was scared,” he admits, his voice dropping. “Scared if I said it out loud, I’d lose you. But I’m already losing you now, ain’t I?”

You swallow, your eyes burning. “Jey…”

His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I never thought I’d let anyone in,” he whispers. “But damn… you got all of me. It's just you and me, ma.”

And then, before you can even process what’s happening, his lips crash against yours, desperate and real, different from the hookups. Like he’s been holding back for too long, and now there’s no point in fighting it anymore.

And you don’t fight it either.

You're too paranoid to even settle down, but the way he confesses to you, he has your feelings now.

[glamourscat]

Can you maybe do a Shidou x Single mom reader? Shidou moved into a new apartment building because he got kicked out of the last one for being too loud or something alike, and his nextdoor apartment neighbor is a young single mom he greets sometimes, and she ends up asking him to babysit her toddler once because no one was able to take care of it at the moment and she was late to work. In the end the kid is obsessed with him and doesn't want to leave at first, but reluctantly accepts once they promise him/her they can play again.

Idk if that's a weird request or anything, but i think it would be cute. The kid can be a girl or boy, whichever you choose.💐

WHATEVER THAT MEANS | SHIDOU RYUSEI X READER (TIME SKIP)

so, i slightly changed it around, bc i found it hard to write for a mother who left her kid w someone who she barely knew :'( i made them on friendly base, so not super close but friendly enough for the reader to trust shidou into taking care of her daughter. I hope you like the fic either way, and i'm sorry for the little adjustment!

Loud. Inadequate. Noisy. Just a few adjectives his old apartment complex neighbors would use to describe him. And it’s not like they were necessarily wrong… but can’t a guy have hobbies? What’s the big deal if he wants to shout off his balcony in the morning as stress relief? Or sunbathe naked? It’s his house, after all.

But apparently, they didn’t see it that way. And so, embarrassingly enough, he got evicted. Football season was about to come to an end, which meant more days spent indoors, especially with the scorching summer temperatures in Japan.

It’s been over seven months since he met you. And he still couldn’t quite figure you out.

The first time you two met, you threw a shoe at him. The second time, you apologized for the shoe but still got into a screaming match over who stole whose package. The third time, it was a rainy night. He was restless.TV, phone, laptop, nothing could quiet his head. His eyes drifted to the window, and before he knew it, he was grabbing his jacket and shoes, heading out for a walk.

He didn’t even realize how far he’d gone until he found himself near the striking lights of the town center. He was about to turn back when he saw you. Standing there, soaked through, outside some cheap ass restaurant. His first instinct was to tease you, but then he took in your face.

Sorrow. Embarrassment. Pain.

And he didn’t have it in him.

You turned to leave before he could even step closer.

“Wait, damn it—”

“Don’t.” Your voice was quiet but firm as he reached out, catching your wrist.

“I don’t—I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Shidou huffed, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“You’re drenched. C’mon. Let’s go back.” His voice was strangely calm. Just like that he led you home.

That night, seven months ago, he learned about you. Your life. That you, at 26, the same age as him, had a three-year-old daughter. That the father was more absent than his own had ever been.

He doesn’t know exactly when the shift happened. When throwing shoes turned into spending late nights at each other’s places, talking until 1 a.m. and laughing over things that didn’t even matter. Maybe it was the vulnerability of that very first night you two talked. Or maybe it was realizing that, despite everything, you two weren’t so different. He just… expressed things more loudly.

And maybe that’s why, on his day off, he’s here. Babysitting your kid. A round, giggling toddler sitting cross legged in his lap, applying makeup to his face with the concentration of a professional artist. She’s rambling, some absurd story about nursery school that he’s pretty sure she’s making up as she goes.

God, he has no idea what he’s doing.

There’s pink sparkling eyeshadow smudged across his eyelids, uneven swipes of glitter on his cheeks and something sticky in his hair that he’s choosing to ignore.

“You look like a princess,” she announces proudly, clapping her hands together.

Shidou snorts. “Yeah? A hot one?”

The toddler tilts her head, considering. “Mmm… a silly one.” She exclaims with her hands thrown in the air as to emphasise her claim. 

He grins, flashing his teeth. “Same thing, nugget.”

As you walk through the door your eyes fix on the scene. You don’t know where to either laugh or to be worried for Shidou’s safety. Surely that many hairpins in his hair cannot be good for blood circulation, right? 

His eyes meet yours as he flashes you a stupid grin of his. He doesn’t know how it happened, how he got here. But he knows it feels good. It feels good to be wanted. And your kid, for whatever reason, is obsessed with him.

Which is a problem, when you move closer to pick her up and she immediately buries her face into his shoulder, clinging and gripping him like he’s the last cookie in the cookie jar that someone is also trying to take. 

“Nooooo,” she yells dramatically. “I wanna stay with Ryusei!”

“Kid, I’m flattered,” he says, patting her back, “but your mom will kill me if you don't go take your bath.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sweetheart, you need to bathe. And eat dinner.”

“Ryusei can do it!”

Shidou chokes on a laugh and you shoot him a glare, but your daughter isn’t paying attention, she’s too busy gripping his shirt. Kicking her feet annoyed at the injustice of it all.

It reminds him a little of himself. That fierce, stubborn kind of love. The kind that grabs on tight and refuses to let go. She’s a kid, but he can feel that she’s smart enough to understand this feeling. So he tugs her away just enough to look her in the eye, his voice quieter now.

“Hey. What if I promise to come back?”

Her lip wobbles. “You swear?”

“Cross my heart.” He does the motion across his chest, then taps her nose. “I’ll come play again. You can even make me a clown next time.”

The toddler sniffs. “Princess clown.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever the boss wants.”

She hesitates, then, slowly and reluctantly, she lets you take her into your arms. But her eyes stay locked on him, watching as if she’s trying to make sure he doesn’t disappear the second she looks away.

Shidou leans back, resting his head against the couch. And, because he knows she’s waiting, he throws her a lazy salute.

“Later, nugget.”

She sniffles again. “Bye-bye, Ryusei.”

And just like that, she’s gone, carried off into the other room.

The apartment is quieter now, the warmth of her weight still lingering on his skin. He exhales, stretching his arms over his head and catches you watching him as you pop back in the living room. 

“You didn’t have to promise,” you say, voice softer than usual.

Shidou hums. “Nah. I wanted to.”

A moment of silence goes by. 

“You’re good with her.”

He smirks. “You sound surprised.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling. “Just… didn’t expect it.”

Shidou shrugs, leaning his head back again. He doesn’t know how to explain it. Doesn’t know if he even needs to. It’s just that love, in all its forms, has never come easy to him. It’s always been messy. Complicated.

But this? This feels simple. So yeah. He’ll come back. He will still pretend to huff and think twice before accepting. He will still tease you restless as per usual. But he will let your daughter cover him in glitter and tell him ridiculous stories and call him silly names. Because it’s easy. Because it’s warm. Because it feels good to be like this. 

Whatever that means. 

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[one-sunny]

Cabin by the Lake | Bonfire

Portgas D. Ace x F!Reader, Modern AU

04- When Luffy’s birthday turns into a group get away to a small cabin by a lake, you cannot deny his own brothers an invitation. Surely the week long get away would leave a lasting impression with his eldest sibling.

notes: sorry to yall that don’t know card games bc they keep coming up and i for some reason know a ton. also, fun fact, s’mores and marshmallow toastiness is a weirdly controversial subject in my family.

Monday: Bonfire

Loud music flows from the kitchen and a low murmur of voices catch on the down beat. You enter the kitchen to see Ace leaning on the counter across from Sanji, the latter focused on stirring something in a white mixing bowl.

Sanji’s head snaps up from his work and a smile pulls to his lips. “Y/N, darling! How did you sleep?” He clicks the speaker lower as Ace watches him close.

“Slept okay, Nami kept me up most of the night.” You grumble, eyes narrowing at the look that crosses over Sanji’s face. “Yeah, don’t think too hard on that, got it?”

Sanji clears his throat. “Right.”

Your gaze shifts to Ace. “You helping Sanji out or just watching him work?”

“Well,” Ace tips his head to the side. “I tried helping out-“

“And he was horrible at it.” Sanji shakes his head dejectedly. At this, you’re suddenly aware of the slight burnt smell disguised by Sanji’s more aromatic cuisine. “He did wash a couple dishes though, so I do have to give him some credit there.”

“Yeah,” Ace sighs lowly. “So now i’m just here for moral support.” He laughs to himself, tapping his fingers against the counter to the beat of the song. “Oh, and to play DJ.”

“Well do you need some real help, Sanji?”

Sanji seems taken aback by this, “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” His gaze softens as he looks over at you, but you simply shrug.

“I’ve got nothing important to do.”

He quickly abandons his task to collect another cutting board, placing you at the other side of the kitchen island, a bright smile on his face. A bag of tomatoes and bell peppers are then placed near by. Lastly, a sharp kitchen knife is placed delicately atop the board. “You can dice them all up, if you’d like.” Sanji then pauses. “You know how to do that, right?”

You scoff a laugh, “It’s pretty straight forward.”

Heat rises to Sanji’s cheeks in the form of a blush and he quickly shakes his head. “I’m not doubting you in any way, mon amor, but it seems like some people don’t understand simple tasks in the kitchen.” His eyes turn to Ace who is already glaring at him. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t need me to show you.”

“I’ve got it, Sanji.” You chuckle as you open the bag, a playful smile on your lips. The general store offered more than fresh produce, the tomato juice seeping onto the chopping board and filling your senses. The song switches as Ace turns the speaker back up and you immediately recognize it as what you had played on the car ride. You glance up at Ace but his focus is trained on his phone as he queues up something else.

You go about the rather simple task, enjoying the repetitious nature of it.

“Uh, Y/N.” Sanji leans a hip up against the counter beside of you as he looks over your work. “You, uh, you’re holding the knife wrong.”

Your motions cease as you stare down at your hand in confusion, wrist tilting. “What am I doing wrong?” You prompt. Sanji smiles as he moves a little bit closer.

“Your finger, you shouldn’t rest it on top of the blade. Less control and you could end up cutting yourself.” He gestures to your index finger that is extended over the steel.

“That hasn’t happened so far.”

“Well, yeah, but it could.” He gently takes the knife from your hand, fully in your space as he grips the knife properly in his own hand. “Do it like this instead, that way you’re being safe. Don’t want you cutting your precious fingers under my watch.” Sanji helps you in adjusting your grip before he is stepping back to his own work space.

Your nose crinkles as you look back to Sanji, “This feels weird.”

“It might right now, but you’ll get used to it.”

You hum in thought as you glance back down at your half cut tomatoes. “So, did you make it this far before Sanji demoted you to dish duty?” A playful smile is on your lips as you glance back up at Ace, only to find him staring into the empty space beside of you. “Uh, Ace?”

His head snaps over to you and he offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You better hurry it up before Luffy wakes up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You wave the knife in dismissal before focusing back on your task. Slice after slice, you make your way to the very end of the bag, calling out to Sanji once your work was done. It was no where near perfect and the dices were without a doubt uneven, but Sanji seems grateful anyways.

“Absolutely wonderful darling.” Sanji grins as he collects the cutting board from you, sweeping the diced vegetables into a pot on the stove.

You hear a scoff over the running water.

“What? Think you could do better.” You grin, crossing over to Ace’s side where he is scrubbing a bowl full of suds. His focus is solely on the task at hand as you bump his hip.

“Tch, probably not.” He mutters.

Your brows pull together at the frown on his lips. “Hey, you okay?” You lean in close enough to graze his elbow as he rinses the bowl.

This seems to snap him to and Ace straightens. “What? Yeah, i’m all good.” A smile pulls to his lips as he finally focuses on you. “We all have our strong suits and mine clearly includes dishes.” He raises a finger to wipe soap suds on your nose before you can stop him.

As you blow out a laugh, the bubbles fly off your face and land unceremoniously back into the water. This causes you and Ace to break into your own fit of giggles. The warmth seems to fill back into his cheeks and his shoulders ease.

You settle in with the two as Sanji works in an easy flow and Ace occasionally pops over to the sink to scrub the dishes. Music flows between the conversations and the room seems entirely at ease. But nothing that serene could ever last long,

“Sanjiiiiii! Is breakfast done yet?” Luffy’s loud voice carries down the stairs as he walks into the kitchen. A frown falls on his face to see Sanji standing over a sizzling pan.

“I’m finishing up.”

“Blame Ace.” You grin at the man as Luffy turns his pouting to his brother.

“Y/N!” Ace groans as Luffy practically rockets himself over to pester his brother. A light hearted argument sparks between the two, which results in Luffy snatching up Ace’s phone to switch the music.

The others begin to flood into the kitchen with an ease in the air. After the thousand mile hike- or so it seemed- everyone decided that today was the best time for a rest day. To truly enjoy your vacation and not pack it full of activities. To just chill out for once.

“Breakfast is ready.” Sanji calls out, mostly in effort to shut Luffy up. “Y/N helped, so everyone make sure to thank her today.” He beams at you and presents you with your plate first. A chorus of thanks soon follow as everyone eagerly awaits their meal. “Oh, and Ace i guess.” He adds as the man glares at him.

↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟ ↟

The wind blows a gentle breeze, the birds chirp in the air, and the sun cast rays of bright sunshine over the cabin. All is calm and restful…

Except for the rather intense game of Speed occurring on the porch of the cabin. You sit across from Ussop, cross legged on the wooden planks, fingers twitching in anticipation. The game was far more intense than need be as competition sparks in the air.

Cards fly into their respective positions in almost a blur as you stick true to the game name and move as quickly as possible. Then, there’s a standstill and you both stare at the two stacks of cards unmoving. “Ready?” Ussop prompts, hand placing on one of the small stacks that remains face down. You nod as you grab the other, flipping your cards at the same time.

Ussop gasps as he slaps his final card on the pile and you nearly fall back with a groan.

“You’re on a losing streak today.” Ussop tuts as he collects the cards to expertly shuffle them.

“I’m not fully convinced you’re not stacking the deck.” You roll your eyes dramatically as Ussop sighs. He places the deck on the floor and makes a gesture at it. A grin pulls to your lips as you cut the deck into four separate stacks, which Ussop collects with an equally as dramatic eye roll, before passing them out.

He sets the two small decks up for the game as you collect your own cards, face steeling as you try to focus in on the task at hand. Ussop glances up at you in a silent question and you both flip a card. You’re moving fast. Faster than Ussop, much to your delight. Your own deck of cards is dwindling and you’re about to win.

That’s when the door flies open behind you and almost smacks in to you. You yelp out in surprise, dropping a couple of your cards in the process, and watching as Ussop slams down his final card triumphantly. He throws his arms up in the air to gloat in your face.

“No!” You groan, looking towards whoever almost knocked you out and lost you the game.

“Oh! Sorry bro.” Franky has an easy grin as you glare up at him from your spot on the ground.

“I almost won!”

“You’re never gonna win, Y/N.” Sabo pops out the open door with a laugh. “Your friends have a serious cheating problem, i’m sure of it.”

A smile pulls to your lips as Ussop places a hand to his chest in offense. “I think Sabo’s onto something.” You give a decisive nod.

“Awh, don’t be a sore loser, doll.” Ace follows the two men out the door, a teasing grin on his face.

“I am not!” You pout.

Ace stops before the steps to look down at you, bottom lip poking out to match your pout. His mocking pout soon turns into a grin at the glare you’re sending him. “C’mon. We’re gonna have a bonfire, you two wanna help set up?”

“Sounds good to me.” Ussop stands, dusting off his hands, before following after the other two men. “Did I ever tell you about the time I got lost in the woods and had to build a giant bonfire just to keep the rabid wolves away from me.” His voices carries off with him as Franky and Sabo laugh at the man’s wild story.

Ace watches as you collect the playing cards left lying carelessly around, shoving them back into their box. Once they’re all packed away, Ace offers a hand out to you with a smile on his face. You take the offer and he easily pulls you to your feet, hand lingering in yours for just a moment as he guides you down the stairs.

Heat fills your cheeks at such a casual action.

At the sound of the front door slamming open, Ace gives a gentle squeeze to your hand, before dropping it. You clear your throat, “So what exactly are we setting up?”

“A bonfire.” Ace grins at the obvious answer.

“Well yeah.” You roll your eyes.

“Setting up the deck chairs and getting the fire started” Ace bumps his shoulder against yours as you approach the rock built fire pit. “There’s enough wood to get it going, but the others went to grab some from the woods to feed it.”

You hum, “So what do you need me to do?”

“You can help me get the fire started.”

“Alright. Are we rubbing two sticks together or what?” You smirk as Ace pulls back a tarp to observe the small case of fire wood.

“While I would love to see you try that one out,” He turns, tugging a golden zippo from his pocket. “We live in a modern age, doll.”

“Ah, okay. The easy way out.” You nod as the man laughs.

“Ever done this before?” Ace prompts. You shake your head with a skeptical look- weren’t you just setting some logs on fire?- before he is beckoning you to his side. “Let me teach you.” Your feet move faster than your mind and you’re suddenly crouching down beside of Ace. He guides you through utilizing timber and kindling to spark up a fire, as well as building a teepee with the wood in order to make the fire last. Then he hands you the lighter and instructs you to spark it up.

You flick the lighter, only for it to quickly be extinguished by a gust of wind. Trying again has the same results.

Before you can complain, Ace’s warm hands cup around yours, a jolt shooting down your spine at the unexpected contact. “Try again, just gotta block the wind so we can start it up.” He seems nonchalant as ever as he prompts you to strike the lighter. This time you’re successful and a fiery warmth spreads through your fingertips as the timber catches. “Good job, doll.” The praise makes heat creep up your neck despite how little you truly did.

The flames spread to the kindling and eventually the fire burns bright.

“Awh, nice bros!” Franky booms as the group returns with a heafty stack of fire wood. “We can make some proper s’mores in this thing.”

Franky runs inside to gather the others and soon returns with a pink guitar to truly set the mood. The group settle into the deck chairs around the fire as Franky begins tuning, plucking the strings delicately, until he is able to strum in-tune.

He begins to strum a familiar series of notes and Luffy is quick to jump in on leading the group through an only slightly off key melody. An ease falls about everyone. Laughter soon flows as Franky, Ussop, and Luffy go about making up their own songs on the spot.

Eventually, the idea of s’mores is brought back up and Sanji prepares the three components on a platter for easy access. Luffy is the first to grab a marshmallow, stabbing it onto a metal stick, and shoving it right into the middle of the flames. It soon catches fire and he quickly pulls it out, watching as a dark coating covers the sugary surface.

“Blow it out!” Nami snaps at him as he attempts to wave it in the air. “You’ve already ruined it by catching it on fire.”

Luffy huffs a breath and the marshmallow dies out. “Nuh uh.” He shoves the crispy marshmallow directly into his mouth, huffing out breaths to attempt cooling his mouth down. “Perfect.”

Nami sticks her tongue out as she readies her own marshmallow. She holds it barely over the fire, “A perfect marshmallow is always a nice golden brown.” As she declares this, Robins marshmallow catches on fire and she swiftly blows it out. “Not you too.”

“You should try it.” Robin chuckles as she goes about preparing her snack.

Nami simply rolls her eyes as she takes her perfectly golden brown marshmallow to make her own s’more.

The group runs through a good chunk of the s’mores ingredients, before everyone is lounging back in their seats. Night has fallen and everyone’s faces are lit in an orange glow. Ace takes it upon himself to properly feed the flames, and you have to give him credit for the strong fire that certainly was lasting.

Ussop leans forwards in his seat as he tells a ghost story, movements exaggerated, and voice a bit pitched at the scary parts.

Staring into the flames with an easy smile, mesmerized by the flickers of light, you allow the stories being shared to be the only thought on your mind. You then start to feel eyes on you, before Ace bumps his knee against yours from his seat beside of you. Pulling your eyes away to look at him was strangely difficult at the trance you were in, but you were thankful for the break at the sight of the flames flickering in his warm eyes. You consider for a moment how captivating he truly was, before soon shaking the thought away. It was nothing.

“You okay?” He prompts, voice low to not alert any of the others.

“I’m great.” You smile at him.

Ace finds himself easily mirroring the expression, your eyes locked together for a long moment. His hand twitches at his side, until he eventually drums his fingers along the arm rest and forces his eyes away. You watch him for a moment longer, ready to ask him the same question, before his eyes flicker back to you. He raises his eyebrows with a teasing smile on his lips, and you somehow know exactly what he’s conveying in that look, teasing you for staring at him without even speaking it.

You exaggeratedly roll your eyes at him and he laughs. The thought lingers in the back of your mind, a silent question that you refuse to acknowledge in the moment of exactly when you started being able to communicate with him through a simple look.

Franky begins to play again and is seems as if the gentle strumming is enough to lull some into sleep. Luffy yawns loudly, Zoro almost dozing off in his seat, and Nami snuggles up close to the blanket wrapped around her body. She is the first to declare that it was time for bed, and the rest soon trickle in after her, one by one.

Until you’re eventually alone with Ace.

No words pass between you, there doesn’t truly need to be, a comfort settling in the air. You both watch an ember shoot out and die quickly against the stone pit. The night air remains windy and you feel a shiver shoot though you.

His knee bumps into yours once again and you find yourself leaning into the simple touch at how warm his skin is. “Get closer to the fire.” He nods towards the flames of your hard work. “Winds cold.” You quickly shake your head and Ace narrows his eyes. “Suit yourself.” He huffs out before he’s standing, holding his hands to the fire in effort to warm his fingers.

The space his leg was once touching quickly turns ice cold.

You slowly stand to join his side, mimicking his hands and trying to ignore the look he gives you. As if he knew you would only come if he got up first. Yet he doesn’t speak on it. Standing side by side, warming yourselves by the fire, and letting the crackling flames be the only sound between you.

The fire is soon dying out, bright flames reduced to muddied flickers that try to catch onto already crisped logs, and you find yourself drifting closer to Ace in effort to seek out some warmth. Your arm touches his, a warm contrast against the night air, and your hand grazes past his. Ace continues to watch the flames but you feel his pinky graze over yours, a hesitant touch, before linking with yours.

You silently curse yourself as your heart begins to pound at such a simple action.

Ace finally turns to look at you, eyes half lidded and lips parted. You’re almost certain you’re offering the same look. He shifts a little bit closer to you and takes a breath, as if wanting to say something, but he stops himself. Ace turns to watch the trail of smoke emitting from the dying flame. “I should probably go to bed.”

“Why?” You find yourself asking, not wanting the moment to end so soon.

He takes in a deep breath before leveling you with his eyes. “Might do something stupid if I don’t.” His voice is barely a whisper as he gauges your reaction.

Anticipation buzzes at your skin and warms you better than the fire could ever. Your lips part to speak but the words catch in your throat. You want to protest. To tell him to stay. That part of you needs him here to explore this moment. Something. Instead you stare back at him with brows furrowed.

Teeth graze over his bottom lip before he tips his head towards the cabin. “C’mon, it’s gettin’ cold out. Let’s both go to bed.”

“Ace,” You try again to speak your protest but the words won’t form. He turns to look at you expectantly. Drawing in a shaky breath, you simply smile, “Goodnight.”

“G’night doll.”

Series Masterlist

tag list: @flooofity @certain-tragedies @zzzzzoey @stuckinmymind22 @kanekisheart @lxpofthegods @weirdothatreads

(if you wanna be added to the tag list, just let me know! and if you’ve asked and i missed you, just yell at me and i’ll make sure to put you on there next time)

[eddiesvixen]

Hollywood Tease

𝙛𝙖𝙦: 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙗, 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡, 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧 2008, 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘 𝙚𝙭 (𝙤𝙣 𝙀𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚’𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙛), 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨, 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 22 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙞𝙨 24

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 5.4𝙠

𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

“So I told her. I said you want a Vodka Cran? She said ‘yeah but can you add lime juice?’ I say, I can add a slice of lime or squeeze it into the drink and she goes ‘No please just the lime juice.’ I look at Eddie, he looks at her, she looks at me. I’m like the fuck kind of blow did she take before she got here?”

Adam’s got the entire crowd of guys at the bar laughing their asses off. The regulars, their girlfriends and their girlfriend’s girlfriends all drinking as he serves them up. He’s good at running the bar alone, especially when Eddie’s busy.

But the sun is setting and the bar is about to have a busy Friday night. Adam shakes his head, smiling to the customers but thinking ‘What the hell’s taking him so long?’

Eddie told him he needed a smoke break. Which he is having, in the back of Mikey’s. After the hideout got shut down and replaced with another diner no one’s gonna eat at, Bev was kind enough to tell Eddie about her brother Mikey. He owns the bar, self titled and all, and he’s all about second chances so Eddie had the job with no problem.

Well, one problem.

“You’re acting like this is all my fault.” Amy shakes her head at him.

“Right so, you fucking a random guy at Gareth’s party last week was a double effort in our relationship?” He takes a drag from his cigarette that is no longer soothing his nerves.

“Eddie, you never talk. I mean you always shut yourself out. I needed attention and you weren’t giving it to me, you never do. You didn’t want to talk about anything with me-“

“Bullshit, I told you everything.”

Lie. Eddie knows he’s closed off a lot, especially after he got the call from his dad months ago from that jail cell.

“Just 7k for bail. Come on Junior help your old man out, huh?”

Eddie remembers the way his stomach churned when he dad banged on that glass, calling him an ungrateful good for nothing. The way his head started swarming full of rage, the way he felt his body heat with remorse. He feels that way right now.

“Look Amy, I tried okay? Clearly I’m not the guy you want okay? If you wanna hook up with random guys at parties I really don’t care anymore, but don’t bring this shit to the bar. You know Mikey-“

“Fuck Mikey, what about me?! What about us?!”

“You threw us away when you got in that bed!” He steps forward. “I have a shift to work, go bother one of the assholes in your phone with your bullshit.”

He flicks his cigarette and gives her no time to argue back before returning to the bar. Adam’s brows raise in relief as he walks close to Eddie, murmuring in his ear.

“Finally. Hold down the fort? I gotta piss.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah man I got it.”

Adam nods and hands Eddie his rag as he walks off. As he looks around the bar, Eddie feels relieved to just be here.

Mikey’s is his safe haven. Second home even.

Wayne moved out of the trailer park after Eddie got this stable job. Who knew all he needed to rid the funk and tiring rumor mill of Hawkins was a drive over to the city. Just one year here in Indianapolis and he feels like he can do anything. Well, anything within the confines of this very bar.

The jukebox in the corner, the black stools with those leathered cushioned tops, the colorful lights that adorn the floorboars ceilings. What he really liked was the Panasonic tv hung in the corner of the bar. When there weren’t sports fans in the bar, he’d turn it to the headbanger’s ball for some real entertainment.

But for now..

“Welcome to Mikey’s.” He greets but then he smirks. “Oh shit, who let you out the house today?”

The girl flips him off. Strawberry blonde hair curled and hanging down from her usual ponytail. She smiles from the confines of her lipstick.

“Who let you out of the duck shed?” She smiles and leans against the bar and Eddie’s face shrivels into one of fear.

“Who told you that, Cunningham? Was it Robin? Because that duck tried to eat my hair.”

Chrissy smiles and shakes her head. “Relax, no ducks tonight. Steve’s parking the car.”

He nods. “Anything for Robin?”

“She didn’t come tonight but my friend’s here, just flew in last night from California.”

He raises his brow. “You have a friend from California?”

She smiles. “No silly, she’s from Hawkins too. Parents moved around a lot, but she’s super chill.. and pretty. And she’s into metal too so maybe you two could chat?”

Chat. Eddie’s familiar with Chrissy’s ways. She’s been trying to help Eddie get over Amy.

“No thanks.”

She scoffs and sighs. “Eddie. It’s been four months.”

“Yeah and when it turns into five I won’t be looking for some new chick to hook up and tell me im not shit again.”

Chrissy would argue but You and Steve just walked in. Eddie made the usual. Steve gets a beer, Chrissy with a strawberry lemonade margarita.

“Hey man.” Steve nods at Eddie and he returns the gesture. “How much?”

Eddie sighs. “Thirteen.”

Steve raises a brow. “What? Ten for the beer, ten for the lemonade.”

“And three for a tip to your best guy.” He smirks and holds out his hand.

Steve rolls his eyes as he pulls his wallet out. “You are insufferable, Munson.”

And before Eddie can chime in you do it for him. “You are cheap, Harrington.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and he smiles, laughing at Steve. “Damn, even the ladies know.”

Steve gives a mock laugh. “Bite me.”

“Bet you’d enjoy that.” Eddie smirks and winks at Steve as he and Chrissy walk up to their usual booth. His eyes direct back to you. He hates to admit it but Chrissy was right: You are pretty.

Your dark eyes looking into his own. Your dark lashes and your skin a shade of brown so pretty he swears the sun spends all of it’s rays in a day on the effort to give you the glow you have right now. The way your dark hair hangs over your shoulders.

You tilt your head. “What’s the best thing on this menu?”

He snaps out of his small trance, trying to project his usual suave smile he has with female customers. “What do you like?”

“Something with flavor but not too much woo. I don’t wanna get shitfaced but I wanna dance and get a little buzz.”

He nods. “Maybe a margarita like Chrissy had?”

“Sure.” You nod, looking at his back when be turns to grab the alcohol. Damn he’s got a nice back. Broad shoulders that his wild dark curls fall onto. Your eyes drift down to his waist which is fairly slim. He’s got a black leather belt on with a silver chain hanging from it. And from his back pocket you see his phone, and the sticker that he has on the steel black case.

“Mercyful fate.” You smile and when he starts salting the rim of your glass he raises his brow.

“Yeah?”

“Your phone case. I like it.”

He grins. “Oh you saw that huh? Chrissy did say you were into the metal scene.”

“Metal, punk, grunge, goth. If I can dance to it or catch a vibe i’m interested.”

He laughs a bit as he pours the booze in the jigger, adding ice cubes into the glass. “Sounds like someone knows what real music is.”

You pull out your phone and tap around a bit before showing him footage from a Megadeth concert.

His jaw hangs a bit as he mixes the drinks. “No way. You went to Gigantour?”

You nod and smile, tucking your phone back into your jacket pocket. “Yeah. It was a dream.”

“No shit it was. Those look like pretty good seats too.”

“Yeah. Fourth row from the stage. I swear a bit of Glen Droverm’s sweat landed on my leg.”

He laughs and shakes his head, wild curls following as he sits the margarita on the bar for you. “Bet you’ll never forget that. Like the ultimate fangirl moment.”

“If you say so.” You smile and reach for your wallet and he shakes his head.

“On the house.”

If your smile could get any brighter, the sun would be filled with envy. “Thanks Eddie.”

You walk away and he realizes he doesn’t know your name. No one even told him yet, but he’d figure it out soon enough. He has to.

“Well done.”

He looks over his shoulder to see Adam smirking, the blonde raising his brows in a teasing manner.

“What took you so long?” Eddie squints.

“Chatting up Ramona by the stalls. But apparently i’m not the only bartender getting distracted by the ladies.” He steps behind the bar and nods. “Who’s the new girl?”

“One of Chrissy’s friends, out of towner.”

Adam smirks. “Uh huh.”

Eddie sighs. “What?”

Adam shrugs. “Nothing.” He wipes the bar and mocks Eddie’s voice. “It’s on the house.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and Adam proceeds to bat his lashes, clutching his hands together. “Thanks Eddie.” He pokes his ass out and Eddie chuckles a bit.

“Shut the hell up.”

“You closing again?”

“Why, need an extra set of hands?”

Adam shakes his head. “It’s okay. Mikey’s coming at 9, inventory check since those squatters came back for vodka.”

Eddie laughs and holds his stomach. “Those assholes back again?”

“Mikey said he’s gonna get dogs, train em to bite those jerks in the ass.” Adam laughs and stands next to Eddie, speaking lower now. “Which means when you clock out, you and new girl can mingle.”

Eddie sighs. “Why does everyone think i’m desperate to be in another relationship? I shouldn’t have gotten in the last one in the first place.”

“Look man, all i’m saying is you can’t wallow home every night to that apartment and that cat and think that’s how the rest of your life is gonna go. Your friends clearly miss you. And you’ve got the opportunity to at least make one more.”

Eddie knows he’s right. Maybe it won’t hurt to just make another friend. Chrissy’s the sweetest person he knows so if she says her friend is nice, she must be pretty cool. Right?

“Shut up, that’s not what happened and you know it!” Steve points a finger at Eddie.

“Don’t listen to him. I told this moron to use Aqua net hairspray and what does he buy? Victoria’s Secret!”

You all laugh as Eddie tells the embarrassing story. “VS, Steve? Really?” You giggle and sit up.

“Says the one wearing it right now.” He quips back.

Eddie knew his eyes didn’t deceive him. The rhinestones spelling out Pink in a pretty font on your black yoga pants. He scolds himself mentally for staring at the ass of a girl he’d just met. How could he not? Your back dermals were begging for his attention and that skull studded belt moved around your waist with every sway of your hips as you walked off with your drink.

“Yeah well if anything Eddie’s saying is true, then you wore it too.”

That gets a laugh out of Chrissy and Eddie.

“Oh trust me, sweetheart, all facts.” He winks at you.

“Fine.” Steve smiles somewhat devious. “Tell her about graduation.”

Your eyes widen. “What happened at graduation?”

Eddie shakes his head and sips his beer.

“Oh don’t get quiet now.” Steve smirks.

“Fuck you, Harrington.” Eddie flips him off.

Chrissy speaks up. “You tell her or I will.”

You smile. “Well?”

He sighs and rubs his face, muttering a curse. “Okay. Class of 2002. We’re at the after party which, I can’t believe I even got invited to.”

You raise a brow.

“Eddie was more of an outcast. He and his friends.”

Steve nudges her foot under the table. “It’s okay Chrissy, you can say losers.”

Eddie squints. “You want the story or not?”

You sit up from your seat in the booth, nodding. “Yes, im listening.”

He grins, enjoying how you focus on him. “So i’m at the after party and there’s this uh.. crowd.”

Chrissy nudges your shoulder from beside you. “Girl.”

“Okay there’s this girl. And she walks up to me and she’s really high. But she told me to follow her so I did.”

“Oh my gosh.” You smile, covering your mouth.

“She took me to her room, turns out it’s her party. And I sit her on her bed. I pop a mint and fix my hair, you know, trying to flatter her.”

“Was she drunk?” Your brows furrow.

“No. God no. But she’s petting the bed and so I go and sit next to her and her hands are over me in seconds. I panicked so I just kissed her back and randomly, her lips stop moving. And when I pull back she’s completely passed out.”

You laugh and smile. “Like a blackout?”

He nods. “Yeah. Good old thc took her out.”

“And this fool.” Steve points at Eddie. “Guess what he does?”

“What?” You smile and look at Eddie.

Eddie groans, running his hands down his face again. “Okay in my defense I was trying to be a gentleman.”

Steve smirks. “He tucked her in.”

Your mouth drops and you smile before you burst into laughter along with Steve. “Wait seriously?”

Chrissy giggles. “Like prince charming himself.”

Eddie throws his hands up. “What was I supposed to do? Leave her passed out like that? I took off her shoes, pulled a blanket over her and left a glass of water on her nightstand.”

Steve shakes his head. “And then he sat there. Just sat there like some kind of guard dog.”

Eddie glares at him. “I was making sure no one else came into her room.”

You smile at him. “That’s really sweet, Eddie. I mean, I’ve had a few times where i’d appreciate a friend like that in California.”

His heart warms. You’re not mocking him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Trust me, spring break gets just as wild as everyone says there and in Florida so, I think it’s good you stayed with her.”

He grins and you can see all of his boyish features. Those dimples, a small scar on his chin from shaving, the small crinkles by his eyes. Steve nudges his foot under the table because he still hasn’t responded.

He clears his throat and looks at Steve and Chrissy. “I believe you two owe me an apology.”

“You wish.” Steve smirks.

“Fine. Just don’t forget who’s hairspray you’re wearing right now.”

You smile as they talk. You haven’t met anyone like Eddie, ever. The way he looks at you when you’re talking, he respects you, he asks if you want refills and the one that you did get was free like the first.

When Steve walks Chrissy to the bar for another drink they leave you and Eddie in the booth, across from each other. His mind races with thoughts of ‘i’m gonna kill them both for this ambush.’

“Cool bar.” You grin. “You been working here long?”

“No not too long. Well, a year. So, yeah.” He fidgets at the napkin under his bottle. Ringed fingers tapping against the aged wood of the table as he lifts his beer for another sip.

“Impressive.”

“What do you do? I mean, California and all. Chrissy said you’re from Hawkins too.”

“Yeah, born there but my parents moved us to Arizona when I was 8. Then I moved to California when I was 17, lived with my grammy.”

“And you just flew from there last night?”

You nod. “Yeah. Got here this morning. She says my youth should be spent with people my age.”

He smiles. “Your grammy sounds cool.”

You hear the mock in grammy. “Mocking me?”

“No no, just.. I mean i’ve never met my grandparents. But if they were as cool as yours then my grandkids will be so grateful in 40 years.”

You laugh. “But you’re gonna be like 60.”

“64 exactly.” He smiles. “Don’t worry i’m not gonna some old fart yelling to get off my lawn or turn that music down. They just better invite old man Munson.”

You smile. “Yeah well if they do you better invite me too.”

“Yeah? Grammy gonna skateboard in an abandoned park?”

“Shut up.”

He smiles, loving how every time you talk to him your cheekbones rise, making your eyes squint. He tilts his head.

“That’s pretty cool.”

You raise a brow. “What?”

He points a finger at the small beauty marks, two on your neck spaces apart. You bring your fingers up to touch them and he sees your manicure too, pretty short acrylics adorning your fingers.

“Oh yeah. Thanks.”

He shakes his head. “Your nails are pretty too.”

You smile and hold out your hands. “Only paid 24, can you believe it?”

He laughs and gently takes your hand in his. “I know nothing about manicures or girl beauty tips but Chrissy has mentioned them being pretty pricey.”

You smile. “Cheaper here than in Cali, i’ll say that much.”

“Well aren’t you lucky?” He strokes a calloused thumb over your fingers. He didn’t notice he’d been holding your hand for this long, admiring your manicure and better yet, how nicely your hand fits into his.

“Okay. One more drink then we’re out.” Steve says as he slides back into the booth.

Eddie drops your hand immediately and nods at Steve. “Took you long enough.”

Steve smirks but luckily Chrissy speaks up before he can embarrass Eddie. “So are we coming back tomorrow?”

You raise a brow. “What’s tomorrow?”

Eddie rubs the back of his neck a bit sheepishly. “Uh it’s.. my band.”

You smile. “Right. Corroded Coffin.”

He looks at Chrissy. How much did she tell you about him?

“Yeah, that’s us.” He looks at you. “You should come. Maybe it’ll be better than Gigantour.”

You laugh. “Better? That’s a very bold take.”

“Well you won’t know until you see us on the stage now will you?” He playfully wiggles his brows.

Chrissy and Steve give each other a knowing look. The way Eddie wiggles his brows like he’s intrigued by you.

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

He sunddenly feels hot. Too hot. “Oh. Cool. I’ll have Adam save you a seat.”

You grin. “Perfect.”

Finishing your drink you stand up. “Bathrooms?”

He points to the crosswalk sign on the wall. “That way, ladies room on the right.”

When you walk off Eddie glares at Steve. “What the hell are you doing?

“What are you talking about?”

“Look. She’s nice but, I could never be with a girl like that.”

Chrissy’s brows furrow. “Like what?”

“I mean look at her, she’s got these cool piercings and she’s wearing the good shit most girls at the mall break their budgets for. She’s so independent and I-“

“You’re being insecure.” Chrissy shakes her head. “She’s not rich or anything.”

“Yeah you’re totally overthinking it man. And I mean if she were rich.. why would that matter? At least you know she wouldn’t be a gold digger like Amy.”

Chrissy kicks his foot under the table. “Steve!”

“What? Im just telling the truth. You’re safe man. And don’t pretend you don’t like her.”

Eddie feels his back sweat. “What?”

Steve smirks. “Not making humor out of you, I swear. But I saw you holding her hand.”

Chrissy’s eyes widen and she smiles. “What?! That’s so sweet. I mean she never lets just anyone touch her.”

Eddie feels special. Did you really let him hold your hand knowing it’s not in your comfort zone?

“I was just checking out her nails.”

“Don’t think that’s the only thing you were checking out.” Chrissy giggles.

Eddie’s cheeks tinge. “You guys are assholes.“

“You love us.” Steve smiles and Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna go bring the car around.”

Steve slides out of the booth and Eddie looks at Chrissy.

“What did I do in my past life to deserve this?”

“Eddie. I can spell it out for you but you know what to do.” She gives him a knowing look before leaving him alone at the booth.

You come back and raise your brows. “Yikes. Did they leave me?”

He smiles. “Steve’s just pulling around the car. Think Chrissy went after him.”

You nod and grin. “So, attire for this show tomorrow?”

“Come as you are. I think you’ll fit right in.”

You adore how his dimples show most when he’s talking to you. You would’ve pointed it out if Steve and Chrissy hadn’t mostly led the convo.

“Cool. Can’t wait.”

The horn blares from outside. You stand, pulling your jacket on. “It was great meeting you Eddie.”

“Pleasures all mines.” He stands with you.

“Here.” You hold out your phone.

He smiles and takes it, entering his phone number. That’s a cute wallpaper, little skulls behind your apps. When you take the phone back you smile at the name: Eddie🖤🎸

“I’ll text you sometime. Maybe we can talk without Steve teasing you.”

“Or Chrissy saying this is my favorite song every five minutes?” He smirks and you laugh. He likes your laugh. Featherlight and yet, a slight deep tone to it.

“Yeah. It’ll be fun.” You tuck your phone and hands into your pockets. “Goodbye.”

“Bye.” He nods and watches as you leave.

He knew from this very moment, it was gonna be a long summer.

Just send a text. One text wont hurt. Right? You have his number, just send the text.

Hey…. delete

Hey, It’s me.. delete

So, big show tonight.

You sigh and sit your phone down on the bed. You rub your face and Steve walks in.

“Hey. Got you some more thread and a new needle.”

You smile. “You are a saint.”

“Best I can do.” He tilts his head. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah just getting my outfit ready for tonight.”

“Trying to impress someone?”

“Fuck off, Steve.” You smile and flop back into your bed. He sits at the foot of it.

“Wow. I let you stay in my house and this is what I get.” He feigns a defeated look.

You smile and sigh. “I got Eddie’s number last night.”

He matches your smile. “You asked for it?”

“How do you know he didn’t ask for mines?”

“Eddie’s never asked for a girl’s number first.”

You feel like a fool. Did you throw yourself at a guy who’s definitely not interested? And if he is, what exactly is he interested in?

“Shit. That sounded bad. He’s not one of those guys, despite how he looks and all.”

“And by one of those guys you mean…”

“A player.” Steve nods. “Eddie’s just a little closed in. His guard’s always up, especially since his last girlfriend.”

You frown. “What’d she do?”

“He caught her in the act with someone else at a party some months ago. She still claims it’s his fault for not paying attention to her or whatever.”

“Shit. I didn’t completely throw myself at him but, maybe I shouldn’t at all. I mean I know what it’s like to be second to someone you love.”

Steve shakes his head. “He gave you his number, that’s a good sign. It’s summer. Don’t overthink anything with Eddie, he’s not so easy to read so whatever you think you know about him he’ll surprise you with something new everytime.”

You smile. “You said that about me when you met me.”

“And I was right, so trust me.” He nods and stands up. “I’m gonna go pick Robin up from Vickie’s then we can get this show on the road.”

You snort. “You’re so cheesy.”

“What?” He furrows a bit so you just laugh.

“Nothing. Thanks Steve.”

He nods and leaves. You lift your phone and send a simple text

See you tonight xo

And Eddie’s at the bar, plugging in his amps as Gareth sets up his drum set, Jeff and Doug setting up on the left side of the stage.

Adam speaks up from the bar. “Eddie, you got a text.”

“Probably Mikey, he still on his way?”

“Nope. This one’s a 310 number.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. 310. California.

He plugs in the amps before running off behind the bar. He picks up his phone and smiles, texting back:

Hope to impress, princess

Adam smirks from over Eddie’s shoulder. “Princess huh? This wouldn’t happen to be the beautiful new girl now would it?”

“Why are you always in my phone?”

“You literally gave me your password for emergencies. And it’s your birthday, it’s like you’re begging me to pry.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “Yes, it’s the new girl. And for your information, it was a joke. She said it herself yesterday she was a princess for halloween when she was younger.”

“Every halloween?” Adam raises a brow.

“Every halloween.” Eddie pockets his phone. “You gonna spy on me some more or open the doors.”

“Yes sir.” Adam salutes dramatically before opening the doors for the show.

And the usuals fill in, some coming from work, some dressed and ready for a good show.

Mikey comes in and nods Eddie over.

“Hey, got a minute?”

Eddie nods before following Mikey into his office. “Yeah. Everything alright?”

Mikey nods, removing his jacket before sitting in his seat, raking his fingers through his dark hair. “Swell. I noticed you uh, took 20 bucks from your check yesterday?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah. I uh.. I gave a few free drinks away to a friend.”

Mikey nods and writes in his book. “I’m adding it back on for you.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “What?”

“You’re my best set of hands here and I appreciate the honesty but listen. Your show tonight. I don’t want anymore tension in the crowd like last time.”

Last week, the guys performed their usual show and things were going great until one familiar face appeared in the crowd, Amy. She cursed Eddie out and when everyone had been dancing her drunken slurs and curses turned everyone off from the performance.

“I can’t pay you guys in full if you don’t finish your performances.”

Eddie nods. “She won’t be here, I swear.”

Mikey nods. “Then we’re all good here. Tell Adam to bring me a beer?” He clicks his computer on.

“Yeah sure thing.” He walks out of Mikey’s office and goes behind the bar. “Mikey’s ready for his beer.”

Adam smirks. “Sure thing. Take this to new girl.” He walks off.

“What?”

Eddie looks up and there you were. At the booth again with Steve, Chrissy, Robin and Vickie. His mouth grows drier than a sahara desert. That short black skirt you wear, the silver of your tummy showing from your cropped shirt. Your makeup really brought out your features.

He clears his throat before walking up to you. “Another margarita for the princess.”

You smile up at him as he sets the drink down. “Wow, you look..”

Amazing. His dark denim, his band tee on a bit snug so his shoulders beg for your attention. They would’ve gotten it if your fingers didn’t brush when you handed him your cash.

“I insist this time. Come on.”

He hesitates before he pockets the cash. “Anything else before show time?”

“How about some more peanuts?” Robin tilts her head with a smug smirk.

“Adam’s gotta get the refills.” Eddie smirks back and you hide a laugh at his smartass attitude.

“So those are your guys.” You nod at the guys on stage.

“Yeah. Do you wanna meet them?” He shrugs, playing with a curl of his mane.

“Sure.” You stand up and fix your skirt and he can’t ignore the barb wire tattoo on your thigh. He looks away quickly, but not quick enough.

Chrissy winks at him before he leads you to the stage. He grins. “Guys. We have a new face in the crowd tonight.”

The boys look up and smile. A shaggy haired one speaks up first. “What’s up. I’m Gareth.”

“Hi Gareth.” You smile, shaking his hand.

Another speaks up. “I’m Jeff and this is.. Doug.” The third guy had ran off to the restroom.

“Nice to meet you guys.”

Jeff smirks. “You’re in for a hell of a show tonight. We just made a new set list.”

“I feel special.” You smile.

Gareth chuckles, tapping his drumsticks against his leg. “You should. We don’t just whip out new set lists for anyone.”

Eddie hides behind a few strands of his curls. “They’re just trying to impress you.”

“Let the music do the talking, Eddie.” Jeff said as he walked back over to his guitar, tuning it up.

You cross your arms, smiling up at Eddie. “Alright then, let’s hear it.”

Gareth gives a mock bow. “As you wish.”

When he returns to his drum set you look at Eddie. He was awfully quiet.

“They seem like nice guys.”

Eddie nods, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, they’re my guys. Have been since high school.”

There’s something fond in his voice, a quiet kind of loyalty. He glances at the stage as Gareth twirls a drumstick between his fingers, Jeff strums a few test chords and Doug tunes his bass.

“They’re idiots,” Eddie continues, “but they’re my idiots.”

You chuckle. “I can tell.”

He looks at the clock. “Showtime. Stay here, want you to get the best seat in the house.”

He walks off and you smile as you watch him walk off. Doug leans over your shoulder. “You’re in luck. He’s practically jumping, gonna be a good show.”

You smile. “Good to know.”

He brings your drink to you. “All set?”

You nod. “Knock em dead.”

He smiles at you before hopping onto the stage and speaking into his mic. “Looks like a nice crowd tonight!”

The people in the bar wooed him on. You’re surprised at how lively the bar just became.

“Worked on a new set list with the boys I thought you all deserved to hear.” He focuses in on you with a charming smile before looking at the other faces in the crowd.

“You ready?” He lowers his voice and you sip your drink to avoid the fluttering feeling his tone gave your body, the crowd cheering and whistling.

Eddie strums a few cords. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Gareth counts them in and out comes the beautiful instrumental of Judas Priest. You smile at the familiarity and start to nod your head, nothing as wild as how Eddie’s doing it right now. Wild dark curls bouncing as he strums his beautiful warlock.

You thought that would be all that impressed you until Eddie opens his mouth. His voice comes in raw, gritty, in a soft rasp as he charms the crowd. You’ve been to your share of shows in California, none of them impressed you like this.

The crowd sings with him and people dance as the show continued. Corroded Coffin played mostly their own material, making a name for themselves. You joined in on the dancing with some of the girls in the crowd and you’re the only one Eddie can focus on.

Your hips swaying with the beat of the drums. Hair whipping around and that smile. That smile that made him wipe his palms in his jeans after every song because it’s practically melting him away.

“Okay everyone. I know show’s over now but me and the boys added one more song this morning and we think it’d be a great closer.”

You cheer and applaud him on with the rest of the crowd.

“Let’s do it boys!” He smiles.

The riff starts off and the crowd starts to cheer. You find yourself laughing as the song starts. Hollywood Tease, really?

Eddie can’t get you out of his head after just knowing you for only one day, he wants you to know how it’s been affecting him. Of course he’s too afraid to tell you himself. Steve knows it, Robin knows it, even Adam knows it. But you don’t want to decide the matter for him so you just dance.

You wondered, did he change his set list this morning just for you? You’re the only new face. Maybe he just wanted to wow you with his performance, gain a new fan. As Eddie finishes his set you hear Steve in the back of your head.

“Whatever you think you know about him, he’ll surprise you with something new everytime.”

You knew it was true. Nothing you couldn’t face though. But the summer just got a lot more interesting.

Inbox is back on for feedback + more <3

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @pupwrites @sheneedsrocknroll92 @koshkahhh @kthomps914 @definitionwanderlust @veravee-blog @losingmygrasponreality @ironmusictrash @littlemissholy @bastardstevie @heav3nly-cupid @dontforgeturkeys @punkrockmlchael @ali-r3n @4everdweeb

[heavens-crown]

And They Were Neighbors Pt.7

Master List

Tag List: @starkgaryan @gabsgabsvaz

cw: angst, mentions of lovers quarrel, talk of broken bone

The following weeks were a delightful type of boring. Delilah and Robby settled into a quiet routine, spending their nights in her apartment. Robby claimed it was because she had better water pressure and a nicer TV. He was back on day shift and while he was glad to be off of nights he missed being able to spend most of the day with her whether it was via naps together or him stretched out on the insanely oversized bean bag she had in her office. The only hiccup had been a minor spat between the two when he had come back edgy from a rough shift and unfairly took his anger from the day out on her. While she had taken it in stride it was clear she was still hurt. 

The evidence of that hurt showing when she sent him a simple ‘have a good day’ text when he left for his first day shift. His mood was now rather foul and he would rather be anywhere other than the ER. When he arrived he set his stuff down so they could go over rounds. On their last patient for rounds Robby noticed Delilah walking into the pit. He noticed she was wearing what was frankly a criminal short dress that appeared to have shorts under it and cherries as the pattern. Frowning a bit he excused himself from the residents and began walking briskly toward her. 

“Why are you here?” he asked. His tone was not great and he knew he messed up when he saw the way her eyes narrowed and her posture stiffened. “If you’re because of what I said last night now is not-” she cut him off before he could finish. 

“First off, watch how you talk to me. Second, I’m not here for you. I got a call from one of my Uncles who is apparently here and he wanted me to bring him some food,” she held up the take out bag he had failed to notice. “I am not some dumb teenager who’s coming to your place of work to stir shit up. Trust me, I'd rather not have that conversation here with you in front of your coworkers and patients.” With that she brushed past him heading to her Uncle's room. Robby exhaled roughly and turned to see the entire nursing station was staring at him. 

“Get back to work,” he ordered. With that they scattered finding things to do that kept them away from him. Sitting at his workstation to go through necessary paperwork he noticed Dana out of the corner of his eye approach him. She stood next to him silently for a moment tapping away at a tablet in her hand. 

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked, concern in her voice. Robby continued to work on the paperwork and things needed signing off. When he didn’t respond Dana continued. “She’s cute, give her some time and i’m sure whatever happened will be forgiven.” She squeezed his shoulder before walking off to help a new nurse with a charting question. 

Delilah entered her uncle's room attempting to keep the tears stinging her eyes from falling. Shawn Montgomery was a stereotypical businessman. His brown hair was styled out of face and his usual style of clothing was usually three piece business suits. Today though he was dressed in a simple shirt and jeans and he seemed to be cradling his arm to his chest. 

“Hey Uncle Shawn,” she said in greeting. Pressing a kiss to his cheek she placed the take out bag on his lap. “I got the food you asked for. I also brought you a long charger for your phone.” Delilah pulled the charger out and handed it to his wife Melissa to plug it into the wall. Shawn smiled gratefully up at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Thank you monkey toes, I don’t know what I'd do without either of you.” He grinned up at her. Delilah rolled her eyes and settled down in the extra chair next to the bed.

“How’d you break your arm?” she asked, gesturing to the arm held in a splint. Suddenly looking anywhere but at her he attempted to dodge the question. It was her Aunt Melissa who answered, amusement clear in her tone. 

“He stepped off a curb into a pothole and fell.” she said. Delilah simply stared at the two of them. Out of all of Grandma Rose’s children Shawn had the worst luck. The man had once been struck by lightning, and in the same night got bit by a bat while on his way to the hospital. 

“We need to put your ass in a bubble,” Delilah shook her head. “Thank god Jamie didn’t get any of your wack ass luck.” Jamie was Shawns only child, who was currently studying abroad in Europe. Clearly desperate to change the subject Shawn pinned her with his ‘I heard something about you’ look. 

“So I got an interesting text from mama a few weeks ago,” he began smirking as Delilah narrowed her eyes at him. “She said you came in here to check on her with an older man. Said man was apparently very attentive and a Attending here.” Delilah groaned and rested her head back staring up at the ceiling. She should’ve figured her Grandma would tell her Uncles. 

“Like I told Grandma yesterday, Robby is just a friend. He’s my neighbor and is fun to hang out with.” She refused to tell her Aunt and Uncle she was actually getting her back blown out on the daily by said neighbor. Shawn gave her a look that said ‘bullshit’ but before he could speak a resident stepped into the room with none other than Robby behind them. 

“Hey Mr.Montgomery this is my attending Dr.Robinavitch, we got your X-rays back and thankfully there’s no fractures that are going to need surgery to fix,” the intern explained while showing them the X-Ray. Delilah did her best to ignore Robby which was hard since he was staring a hole into the side of her head. 

“That’s good to hear, am I still going to need a cast?” Shawn asked. It was clear by the look on his face that he recognized Robby’s name. Robby nodded, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. 

“Yes sir. What we’re going to do is reset your arm and place you in a soft case. We’re also going to get you a referral to a physical therapist so they can help make sure you don’t lose any mobility in your wrist.” He said. 

“Thank you doctor, I'm sorry, what was your name again?” Shawn asked, faux innocence ringing in his voice. 

“It’s Dr. Robinavitch, but you can call me Dr.Robby.” He answered with a small smile. Delilah felt her stomach clench when he shot her one last look before leaving the room. Sighing as she saw both her Uncle and Aunt were staring at her she grabbed her purse and rose to leave. 

“Well clearly I’m not needed here so I’m going to head out-” Melissa cut her off before she could make her escape. 

“Is that the same Robby that your grandmother is convinced is shaking the sheets with you?” she asked coyly. Delilah felt her face burn as the residents' eyes shot to her as they were putting her uncle in the cast. 

“I plead the fifth.” Delilah answered looking anywhere but at them. Shawn snorted and gave her a droll look. 

“So that means yes you’re fucking the guy who looks like he could be your dad.” Shawn said dryly. Not liking his tone Delilah glared at him, feeling rather protective over the man even if he was an asshole. 

“He’s 47 Uncle Shawn, Dad would’ve been 55.” With that she gave him one last kiss on the cheek and hugged her aunt before walking out of the room. She was almost to the exit when she heard Robby calling her name. Stopping her turned on her heel to see him speed walking toward her. Even when mad at him she couldn’t help the way her body responded to seeing him, which just irritated her more. 

“Will you come talk with me? In Private?” He asked. She wanted to say no but when she saw the sadness in his brown eyes she felt her resolve melt. Sighing a bit she nodded and let him lead her toward what was apparently the staff lounge. She leaned against the counter watching him as he leaned against the door watching her. It was silent for a moment as the two of them simply watched each other. Robby rubbed the back of his neck, an anxious tick of his, before letting out a sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for last night and for what I said when I saw you in here. It was incredibly hurtful and you didn’t deserve any of that.” Delilah watched as he seemed to struggle to get the words out and her heart broke just a bit. Pushing away from the counter she walked across the room to wrap her arms around Robby’s waist burying her face in his chest. He tensed for just a moment before hugging her back resting his cheek on the top of her head. 

“Apology accepted,” She mumbled. She could feel the tension leave his body as he pressed a kiss to her head. Pulling her head back just a bit she gave him a mock glare. 

“You ever talk to me the way you did in the last 12 hours and I promise I will put a chastity device on you and throw away the key,” She said, Robby stared down at her eyes wide like he didn’t know what to make of her at that moment. Giving him a soft kiss she stepped back and poked him in the chest. “You need to get back to work, mister. Would you like to come over after your shift?” She asked, suddenly feeling shy. Robby’s smile was bigger this time as he pressed his forehead to hers, tightening his grip around her waist. 

“I would love nothing more."

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 13 (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

I feel like this is the first time in a while that I've posted a chapter in a reasonable amount of time. I'm so grateful for everyone's patience with me while I write. I appreciate every single like, comment, reblog, and tag request so freaking much. As things slowly get better in my personal life, I hope I can continue to post for you all regularly.

Masterlist + Playlist

Word Count: 2.4+

You weren’t sure if you were going stir crazy on the unit, but you swore all eyes were on you when you walked on to the unit for your next shift. But it wasn’t even 7am yet, you hoped that maybe your coffee just needed to hit. Word spreads fast at the nursing station, you knew that much. Maybe it got out that you weren’t renewing your contract and took a staff job elsewhere? You weren’t necessarily well liked, especially by the older nurses and some of the resident team. But you were respected, or so you thought. 

You looked up at the board to see your assignments, two walkie-talkies… this was gonna be a hard day.

Lisa, the career night shift nurse, who ran strictly on caffeine and spite, raised her eyebrows at you, “don’t go starting a fling with your patient assignments today, Y/L/N.”

Your stomach dropped but you had to play it cool and just ignore it, “I’ll receive report when you’re ready.”

The day was absolutely exhausting, with two patients that could walk and talk but were not fully orientated to their environment. Half of your day was spent cleaning them up since they were incontinent and the other half was spent trying to keep them from getting out of bed on their own and falling. And in an understaffed military hospital, there were no sitters who could watch over them, just you and the coworkers that were willing to help… which wasn’t all of them.

Madi nudged you, “Hey, are you working tomorrow?”

You shook your head, eyes laser focused on the computer. You were so behind on charting, you were drowning.

“Let the girls and I take you out for drinks tonight.” She said, “To celebrate your new job.”

Your eyes darted to her, “How did you know I got another job?”

Madi smiled weakly, “Word travels fast when you’re surrounded by a bunch of boomer mean girls.”

You snorted, that was the perfect way to describe the older nurses on the unit. “Okay. But nowhere fancy. I just wanna shower and throw on a nice pair of jeans.”

“Hard Deck?” She suggested, “Maybe that cutie boy with the mustache will be there and can drive you home.”

Your voice dropped lower, you didn’t want to be heard, “You mean my boyfriend?”

Madi’s face lit up, “So it’s true.”

You bit your lip and kept my voice quiet, “How did it get out? I swore Carly to secrecy.”

“Dr. Parks is fucking a nurse down in the ED, the one that took care of Bradley…” she matched your quiet tone, “She told him and he told Maggie, the certified yapper, and it spread like wildfire over the past couple days while you were off.”

You buried your head in your hands, “The last two weeks of this contract is going to be absolute hell.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Y/N: Shit day at work. I’m gonna meet the youngins for drinks after I shower and change. Carly’s driving me, will you drive me home?

Bradley: Of course, sweetheart!

Y/N: We’re going to the Hard Deck, you should make an appearance if you’re feeling up to it. 

Bradley: Drinks with my favorite girl, at my favorite bar? Abso-fucking-lutely

“How ya doin’ kid?” Maverick asked, he and Bradley finally had a moment alone after the last briefing before breaking for lunch.

Rooster smiled, “Besides still being sore as fuck, better than I’ve ever been.”

“The nurse?” Mav inquired.

“Y/N,” He corrected his uncle-like figure, “She’s more than a nurse. She’s like… my favorite person in the world.”

Maverick smiled, “Your dad used to say that about your mom. He’d say, ‘Yeah Pete, you’re one of my best friends. But Carole, she’s my favorite person in the world.’”

“There’s no one better to be second best to, I guess.” Bradley chuckled.

“Third best, once you came along.” Maverick shrugged, “And that was absolutely okay with me.”

“I think we’re gonna take a trip to her hometown soon, before her new job starts.” Bradley said nervously.

Mav nodded, “Which means you’re probably gonna meet her parents… Does that scare you?”

“A little, it just hurts a lot that she can’t meet mine… she’s so much like Mom but not in a way that’s, like, weird. But in a way that she’s comfortable and familiar.” Now Bradley was really opening up. Maverick tried not to look too excited. “The first time I ever brought her back to my place, I offered her a drink before things… happened. And she looked at me and said ‘Take me to bed or lose me forever’. I don’t remember much of Mom and Dad together but I remember her saying stuff like that and it made my dad laugh so hard.”

“Do you have any pictures of her?” Maverick asked curiously.

Bradley pulled out his phone and pulled up a selfie he took with Y/N at the Hard Deck a few weeks ago, just a few hours before that amazing night they spent together. 

“She’s a pretty girl, Brad.” Mav said, “She seems sweet too.”

“She is,” Bradley agreed, “she’s also smart as hell, full of attitude and wit. She’s… she’s everything.”

Bradley sat down next to Bob at a table with Phoenix, Fanboy, and Payback.

“We’re going to the Hard Deck for Thirsty Thursday, Roo.” Payback said, “You coming or are you gonna be too busy hanging out with your girlfriend?”

He smiled at his friend, “I’ll be doing both.”

“Yeah, Y/N and the nurses are all gonna be there tonight.” Phoenix added.

Bradley was taken aback, “How did you know that? She just texted me about it…”

Phoenix shrugged, “She texted me too. Is that allowed, Bradshaw?”

He chuckled, “Of course it is, she loves you.”

“See any other cute nurses for the rest of us during your last hospital visit?” Fanboy asked, “Time to spread the wealth.”

“You know how Phoenix loves a woman in scrubs.” Bob added with a wink in her direction.

Nat kicked him swiftly under the table.

“Unfortunately, no.” Bradley chuckled, “I was too busy having my ass handed to me by Y/N for not calling her.”

Fanboy choked on his water, “You didn’t tell her you were coming to her place of work after being ejected from a fucking plane?!”

“I had to call her and tell her.” Phoenix rolled her eyes, “Because I had a feeling he fucking wouldn’t.”

Rooster shrugged, “I have since learned the error of my ways. It’ll never happen again.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

You loved that your weekend was being kicked off with a Thirsty Thursday. Since you knew you had a safe ride home and no one at work respected you anymore anyways, you decided to let loose a little bit. Carly brought a round of tequila shots to your high top table, Sam followed closely behind with a round of hard seltzers.

Madi laughed, “We’re chasing our shots with more alcohol to drown our sorrows about Y/N’s contract ending.”

“And because she’s leaving us for labor and delivery!” Carly passed you a shot and a High Noon, “It’s only right that we get her fucked up!”

“Cheers to Y/N surviving the next two weeks being the talk of the unit!” Sam held her glass up.

Everyone did the same and clinked the shot glasses together, tapped them down on the table and then choked the shots back and chased with the sweet yet still alcoholic taste of High Noons. It was the first time since college you had a head rush like that.

“Lisa told me not to hook up with any of my patients when I got report from her today.” You rolled your eyes.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” Sam snorted, “Maybe if she got laid for once she’d be a little more tolerable.”

You, Madi, and Carly all burst into a fit of giggles. Sam was known for always saying the quiet part out loud, even if it got her some glares. Her strong backbone is what’s helped her survive as a new young nurse starting out in a military hospital’s intensive care unit.

As the silly conversation went on, you found yourself peering at the door every once and a while, waiting for Bradley to walk through it… You also noticed Carly doing the same thing, a hell of a lot more than you were. There was an air of nervousness about her. Who was she waiting for? It better not be some shit head straight out of basic training, or worse, Hangman. 

“Next round’s on me, girls!” You pulled your card out from your wallet.

Carly slapped your hand away, making you drop your credit card, “No way, Y/N! We’re treating you all night.”

You tried to argue but Madi talked right over you, “We’ve already decided this. You’ve done so much to help all of us during your contract, more than the nurses who were supposed to train us.”

You shook your head, “Not really…”

“You taught me how to give report without shitting my pants and to organize my lines.” Carly said.

“You taught me to talk to patients whenever I’m assessing or doing anything to them, even if they’re intubated and sedated because it helps with agitation.” Sam added.

“You taught me to double tourniquet for tough IV placements to help the veins really pop out.” Madi said, “I almost never miss now!”

You puffed out your lower lip, “I’m really glad you all are saying these nice things while I’m sober. If I had anymore alcohol in me, I’d be ugly crying.”

All the girls’ faces lit up and then a familiar raspy voice said, “Sweetheart, you couldn’t do anything ugly if you tried.”

You jerked around and jumped into Bradley’s strong arms, “I’m so happy you’re here!”

He held you for a moment, rubbing your back, “The day didn’t get any better?”

You shook your head, “Not until I got here with these girls.”

“Now that you’re nice and distracted, I’m gonna go grab us another round.” Carly smirked at you and Bradley, finally releasing each other from your embrace. “Can I get you anything, Rooster?”

Bradley passed her his card, “You can put it on my tab and let me help you carry stuff. The usual suspects are at the pool tables and would love to see you guys.”

“Meet you there?” You suggested.

Carly and Bradley nodded and made their way to the bar.

Sam took your hand, “I’m so scared of all of them, the guys are so fucking hot.”

You giggled and gave her hand a squeeze, “Don’t be scared, they’re all really nice. And don’t let them know you think they’re hot, it’ll go to their heads.”

You were catching up with Bob and Phoenix when Bradley and Carly appeared with seltzers, beers, and shots. Their hands were so full.

“Aw, let me help you.” Phoenix cooed and walked up to… Carly? She kissed her sweetly and took half of the drinks from her hands.

In that moment, everyone stopped and stared. Processing what they just saw.

“Surprise!” Carly squeaked and smiled awkwardly.

“How did I not put this together?” Bradley chuckled, handing you a High Noon.

“You’re gay?” You asked the two of them in disbelief.

Bob cut in, “Are we stating the obvious? Natasha is gay and grass is green.”

Everyone burst into hysterical laughter.

“Hey, hey,” Phoenix said, “I think she directed that more towards Carly than me.”

Carly looked at you with concerned eyes, “I only just kind of figured this part of me out. Are you mad at me? For not telling you?”

You shook your head, “No! Of course not!”

“So let me get this straight… or gay,” Hangman started.

Coyote rolled his eyes at his best friend, “Here we go.”

“I’m called a total creep for chatting up the cute young nurses but Phoenix starts dating one of them and doesn’t get any shit?”

“That’s ‘cause you are a fucking creep!” Payback called out, making everyone laugh again. 

You walked over to Carly and wrapped your arms around her, “I’m so happy for you, kid.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Bradley flipped through all the tracks on the jukebox on the other end of the bar. He peered behind over his shoulder and saw Y/N, drunk and happy by the pool table with his best friends. She was talking to Fanboy about something that had her really worked up, Bradley could see the passion all over her face and in her gestures. She was setting Mickey straight on something, wagging a single pointer finger in his face as she spoke. 

God, she’s the fucking cutest. Rooster thought to himself before turning back to the jukebox.

Y/N had asked him to pick a classic for her. He had to find something that was giving old school, 1970’s joy. And he found it. After adding the song to the queue, he swaggered back over to his girl, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist mid rant.

“What’s got you all fired up, Sweetheart?” He chuckled and pulled her close.

“Fanboy thinks that Legally Blonde isn’t a feminist masterpiece!” She spat and glared at his teammate with disdain.

Bradley chuckled, “Grow up, Mickey. Everyone knows that Legally Blonde is an excellent movie!”

“Yeah!” Y/N cried out, snuggling her back closer into Bradley’s chest, “Grow up!”

Fanboy was getting a kick out of riling Y/N up, “It’s not realistic!”

Before Y/N could bite back, the starting lines of Bradley’s jukebox pick started playing. Her eyes lit up and she turned around in Bradley’s arms to face him.

“This is a classic!” She squealed happily.

Bradley sang to her and let his hands wander down into the back pocket of her jeans, “You can rely on the old man’s money! You can rely on the old man’s money! It’s a bitch, girl, but it’s gone too far, ‘cause you know it don’t matter anyway. Say money but it won’t get you too far, get you too far.”

And just like that, everyone in the bar was boppin’ along to Hall & Oates. When the next chorus came around, everyone was singing. Phoenix playfully bumped Bradley and Y/N as she danced and sang with Carly. Hangman, Coyote, and Bob used their respective pool cues as microphones and sang their hearts out like everyone’s own personal background singers.

Y/N sighed happily in his ear.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, baby girl?” He asked softly as the song came to an end.

She pulled back to look at him with her big doe eyes, “How happy I am, here, with you.”

He rested his forehead against hers, “That’s so funny, I was also thinking the same thing.”

Tag list:

@sarah-bear706318

@dizzybee03

@that-gay-person-27

@alwayshave-faith

@caitsymichelle13

@thespillingvoid

@shanimallina87

@amiets2

[zmediaoutlet]

If u ever want to elaborate on the sam/deanna d/s 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Sam doesn't say much, Michigan City to Joliet to Rockford. Fine with Deanna, who doesn't have much she could say back. She drives fast but not fast enough they'd get pulled over and she stops for gas when they need it. When she's dealing with the gas cap Sam asks if she wants anything from inside and there's a space in her throat where words should be but nothing comes out. She shakes her head. She doesn't look at him but she can imagine Sam's face. The so-slight narrowing of his eyes, the way his jaw goes a harder shape. His boots crunch on the gravel into the c-store and she's left with the empty space. Except it isn't empty, is it.

Mark looked small in the hospital bed. Sat beside it Ben had looked smaller, more like the eight year old birthday boy he'd been when she met him. Cas had done his job. Mark watched her in the doorway, curious and then surprised and then vaguely forgiving, and his eyes were the same soft brown they'd always been and his smile came just as easy, and there wasn't a fleck of recognition. Ben was just puzzled—faced with some woman, who apparently couldn't drive, babbling some dumb apology—and nowhere in him was the kid she'd tucked in at night, or the kid she'd shown how to jump a battery and change a tire, or the kid she'd picked up from school after her shift at the diner and kissed absently on the head and said she'd look out for him, she'd keep him safe, no matter what. Another lie to stack on the pile. After the life she'd had, you'd think she'd know better by now.

A motel in Freeport. Yellow blankets and bad carpet. They drop their bags and Deanna looks at the two beds and the last thing in the goddamn world she wants to do is sleep. Sam picks up the keys, says, "I'll get food," and the door closes quietly behind him, and she's alone finally, and if she were another kind of person it'd be space to cry. It'd make sense to. A boy she'd loved and a man she could've stayed with, maybe gotten old with even though getting old is something she thought she'd never be able to do—gone. Permanently, this time. No doors left half-cracked, no maybe-somedays on the horizon. An entire year of her life, longer, cut out like a failing liver. Better for everyone to have it cleaned out and gone.

In the shower she's slow, thorough. A week straight of hunting didn't leave a lot of time for hygiene. She shaves, careful, and washes everything, and with her hair in a knot of conditioner she cleans the telltale rime of blood from under her fucked-up nails and remembers the last demon laughing at her even with it coughing up the ruined salt-shredded lining of its throat and how it said Crowley was right about you, wasn't he? Pathetic bitch even can't give up second-rate dick. Didn't think it'd be this easy.

Sam's back when she's out. "Got Chinese," he says, through the half-open door, and she says thanks but sits on the edge of the tub, wrapped in the yellow towel, keeps working on her nails. Two of them tore while she was killing the demons outside where they'd chained Mark. She doesn't know why she ever tries to grow them out. One cracked, almost to the quick, when she was ripping Mark's arm away from Ben's throat when the demon had filled him, when it had smiled at her with bloody teeth and black eyes and said god, you're a dumb cunt. You think he isn't glad you're gone? He wishes he'd slammed the door in your face when you came crawling with the sob story about your dead bro. Well—maybe after a blowjob. Might as well get some use out of the slut.

In the room the television turns on, loud at first and then Sam curses and it's quieter. Evening news. Rain in the forecast, next week. Construction on I-90 starting soon. Deanna files her nails smooth, even repetitive scrapes of the emery board, and listens while the report turns somber, an unsolved murder a few towns over—a dead wife, a shocked and mourning husband—and the police have leads but no answers, and if anyone has any information, please call the tip line. Please help. She rubs her thumb over her middle fingernail, feels a burr that needs correcting, and applies the file there again and sees Mark gouting blood into the warehouse floor and Mark pushing her hair back from her face in their bed and Mark opening that door that night in May, when she'd truly felt like a cannon had been shot right through her center and all the organs were gone, and Mark lifting his chin, brave despite everything, when she said she had to go with her miraculously-returned brother, and how he knew, maybe, then. He wouldn't say it, not ever, but. She thinks maybe then.

She wants the file to be the demon knife, and she wants the black-eyed fuck that was in Mark on her personal table, strapped still, and she wants to make it slow, to make it hurt. Wants to skin it down to black flensed bone and pare open its fears and make herself one of them. Whether in the body of Mark or not, really. Wants to see its eyes blister wide and know the rot is in her too but it didn't matter because she was making it hurt the way she was hurt and it would mean she wasn't thinking about the ways she'd pulled this kind man down into her undertow. Just some dentist, with a kid she could look after, who'd opened his house for her not knowing the poison death that rippled in her wake. He'd known there were things wrong with her but not the extent. When she'd lost what really mattered, she followed orders like she always goddamn did and she went to his house and hadn't told the full truth of how her spine had been ripped out of her body and how she'd never really be the same—she'd said hi, and that she was sorry to interrupt dinner, and he'd taken her in his arms and he'd cupped his hand around the back of her head and it hadn't been right, his smell was wrong and his clothes were too nice and he wasn't tall enough. He was soft and he was careful and she didn't want either.

Sam's on the bed closer to the door, stripped down to grey t-shirt, grey boxer-briefs. White boxes with the pagoda logo on the table; he left her both fortune cookies. She ignores them and goes to her bag, finds the bottle of rye she hasn't quite killed—mostly uppers, last week, staying awake to extract information out of as many demons as she could—and necks a swallow, straight. It burns, and burns hotter on an empty stomach. In another mood she could get very, very drunk.

That first night she made Mark fuck her. He didn't want to but she knew how to make a man use her to her purpose. She'd ended up on her belly with his hand over her mouth so she wouldn't make noises Ben could hear, but he'd been gentle and he'd said, quiet against the back of her ear, I've got you, Deanna, and even if it was almost the shape of what was lost it wasn't enough, it wasn't nearly enough, but it was a bandage at least. She didn't expect to still be bleeding.

"Are you gonna eat," Sam says. Without much expectation.

He's got his eyes on the television, a line between straight brows. He was pissed at her earlier; now she doesn't know what he is. Normally that'd tear at her, especially after these months of fretting over the wall, but right now she just needs him—here. Whether he likes her is secondary.

Deanna kneels up quick on the bed, throws her thigh over both of Sam's. He startles, like he wasn't tracking how she moved. "Sloppy," she says, holding out the bottle.

He takes it but doesn't drink, that line still right there between his eyebrows. He's gonna get wrinkles before her, at this rate. "We've got to head to Bobby's in the morning," Sam says.

Like she's stupid. Well, maybe she is. Deanna folds her hand over the knot of towel anchored over her left tit and that place is still bleeding and she doesn't know any other way to stanch it, really. She puts on a smile. Not the five hundred dollar a night one but close. "That's in the morning," she says, and settles more comfortably in his lap, her thighs splaying wider and her hips canting forward. These shitty motel towels aren't that big and there's a shadowed split below that draws Sam's eyes straight down. Predictable. Even after this awful weird year. Could almost make her smile real. "C'mon."

Unfortunately Sam's more of a grown-up than he was when her best teasing wheedle could get him to do almost anything, when the mood was right. Though the mood now's not exactly—"Dee," Sam says, sighing, and that's—Sam when he's pretending like he's the older one, when he's pretending like he's the one with all the answers. Like they haven't both been blundering in the dark since they weren't tall enough to see over the steering wheel.

She steals the remote and turns off the TV. Then she takes the bottle back out of his hand and he watches her, still fucking frowning like she doesn't know he disapproves of everything she's ever chosen to be—but she takes a deep swallow, anyway, cocking the bottle high and watching him right back while she does it, and she fucks her lips off the bottle like it's a cockhead and she licks her lower lip like it was Dom and Sam might think he's better than this but his pupils go big and he tracks the flash of her tongue like it's a werewolf they're coursing through the woods and he's not that high-and-mighty, now, is he. Deanna leans forward, obvious, to set the bottle down on the bedside table, and she comes in close enough that her tits push against Sam's chest and his head's right over the curve of her shoulder—she can hear it when he takes a deep quick breath—and she takes her time sitting back up, smelling him, too. That end-of-the-day Sam smell that's the most comforting thing in the world. A little sweaty, a little gross. Blood and gunsmoke and this salty warm separate thing that goes straight to her hindbrain. Thousands of shared motel rooms, and in good times shared beds too, and it's what has always meant, to her, morning. When things were okay.

When she sits up straight she makes sure she's really close. Sam can probably see the clogged pores in her chin that she hasn't had time to straighten out. She lays her hands on his chest, drags them down to feel his ribs expand with his breath. "Been a minute," she says. Has the benefit of being true. They haven't since—shit, since before Sam proved Cas was lying to them? Weeks, at least. "C'mon, you aren't all blue-balled?"

"Blue balls aren't a thing," Sam says, and Deanna slips a hand down between them to where he's thick and obvious in the boxer-briefs and clutches warm over all that good and says, "Liar," and Sam finally, finally touches her. Grips her arms, hard.

Deanna wants it harder. She rolls her fingers under the heavy weight of his nuts and he squeezes her triceps, eyes tightening, but he doesn't move more than that. "God, you're a lot of work."

"Takes one," he says, and she huffs even if something's going hard and painful in the pit of her stomach. Why does it make her pussy clench, too.

She pushes up, between his legs into the thick muscle of his taint, and his chest heaves for that one, a deep steadying, warning. Her tongue flicks against her lower lip, not even intentionally—she notices only when she sees his eyes have gone to her mouth again. Her thumb slips over the thickening weight of his dick and she looks down, where it's heavy and starting to strain the thin grey fabric, and she says, not meaning to be honest, "It's been a shitty week." Makes Sam's hands go lighter on her arms. Not what she wants, not at all, and she swallows and is honest again when she says, "You six months ago would've already fucked me by now," and—

Huge hands on her waist, then, hard and gripping. "That what you want?" Sam says, deeper—that pissed-off tone she hardly ever surprises out of him, anymore—and Deanna says, "Don't ask me what I fucking want," and leans forward and mashes her mouth against his, demanding and with none of the skills she could've brought and actually a really shitty kiss, if they were trying to make this a good time, but that's not what's in the cards, tonight. Sam opens up and grabs the back of her head and fucks his tongue into her mouth and she gives as good as she's getting, biting his lip, getting her hands in his hair, pulling, demanding. Begging, but at least he's not making her do it out loud.

It works, finally. Sam tears the towel open, gets a hand on her left tit and squeezes. Hard and it hurts, fuck, but her hips squirm in, too, her pussy clenching again. Deanna fucks her tongue against his and then he pulls away, drops to her throat, biting. Breathing deep, scraping his teeth over the tendon. She raises up on her knees, makes it easier, but he just ducks his head and bites the top curve of her tit instead, right over the tattoo they share. When she hisses he smiles and then he goes slower, drags teeth against the stupidly-excited bullet point of her nipple, flicks his tongue there, makes her drag in shaky air like a nervous kid. The towel unspools away. For a minute he settles in, there, lipping and carefully lapping, first-boyfriend-sweet except that Deanna's had her little brother's cock blocking her airway until she actually honest-to-god blacked out and she knows that Sammy's sweet comes with all the salt she could ever want. She grips his shoulders and shivers and he squeezes her ass, bruise-tight and pulling the cheeks apart, and god, she wants him. Every part of him. She wasn't joking about the soulless self but even that, raw and furiously terrible as it turned out to be, it didn't come close. Closer than Mark had, but—

Mark's gone. That's the whole point. "Sammy," she says, panting already, and he pulls off her nipple and kisses the soft inside where he bit and the center of her breastbone and then drags his chin up that skin. He hasn't shaved in a few days and it scrapes, tingling. "Sam, come on."

"Don't tell me what to do," Sam says. For a second he really sounds like he had six months ago and she digs her fingers into his shoulders, clenching stupid fistfuls of his undershirt—but then he grabs her, shoves, and she goes over backwards on the bed, her head bouncing against the wrong end by the foot and her legs sprawling open. Undignified, unsexy, but Sam doesn't seem to care because he kneels up between her knees, drags his shirt off over the back of his head so his hair scatters messy and she can see him. Fuck, he's big. Bigger than her, obviously, has been ever since he turned sixteen and shot up ten inexplicable inches, and then a few more at college just for fun—but bigger than anyone else, too, bigger than all those other inadequate assholes who'd never managed to be enough. She drags her heels up on the bed and cups a hand over her pussy and Sam says, "Yeah," and she grabs the tit he'd marked up and squeezes it and he says, "Yeah," again, lower. His dick really pushing out the front of his briefs now, massive and caught in this sideways angle over his hip, distending the fabric enough that the waistband's pulled down and she can see the start of his bush. He always used to keep it tidier, before this year. The difference is making her mouth water.

"What'd you do?" Sam says. Hard, like he's asking if she made another trip down to the crossroads. Deanna shakes her head, doesn't get it. Rolls her fingers over the mound and dips between her lips—jesus, she's wet. Syrup she slicks through, testing. Sam grips the inside of her right thigh and presses it flat down to the mattress so she's tipped open to the lamplight and blood flushes through her whole body, feels like, even after all these years. "Tell me. What'd you do with him?"

Nothing that mattered is the answer but that's cruel and Sam isn't—since he's reassembled he isn't—"Jealous?" she says, thinly, this queasy weird thing dumping down from the top of her spine. She's not a bit less hot for him and that's something maybe to look at another day, or week, or never. She scrubs over her pussy lips all fat with blood and then pushes in two fingers, knuckle-deep all at once, distracting herself and him, hopefully. Sam's eyes are black, practically. Another too-hot thing. She gulps air, curls her fingers, says, "Don't we have something better to do?"

Sam gets closer, leans over her. His hand hurts on her inner thigh and she flexes and he doesn't give an inch. "Like you ever spared me a detail," he says, dry. His eyes skip from her crotch to her tit to her face. He teases soft at the underside of her other breast, tracing the way it tips out to the side, electricity coursing straight from there to her cunt. She clenches around her own fingers, shudders. "Not allowed to remember. Tell me."

Deanna blinks, lips dry. Oh—not Mark, not that tender stupid pointless year, but he means—when his hands were harder and his eyes flat as a snake's and even so she'd been so sore and dumb and helpless with wanting him that she'd bent over, gone to her knees, really had begged, shock-drunk at how much she'd missed everything that being Sam's sister had meant. When finding out the truth had hurt ten times as much as leaving Mark in that hospital room had. He draws a ticklish little circle around her nipple and she abandons her other tit, pushes up on her elbow, rolls her hips on the bed. Sam's eyes on her mouth, now. "No," she says.

His jaw goes hard. "Fine," he says, and jerks her fingers out of her cunt and flips her onto her belly, fast enough that she bounces again. He grabs her hips and yanks her bodily back onto her knees, her ass shoving up into the cradle of his hips and feeling, oh fuck yeah, feeling the fat curve of his cock pressing against her, ready.

Deanna rocks back against him, on her elbows on the slick comforter, helps him grind where he's wanted. "Get your fingers back in," Sam says, and she gives up stability to do it, reaching between her thighs and the angle's worse but she hooks in, pulls, her palm grinding against her clit, and Sam groans finally. He pulls her ass open again, getting a better view. She pulls out, rubs her fingers around, clenches empty and pushes her fingers back in with an actual squelch, and Sam spanks her ass, sharp, grabs the spot he hit and squeezes hard enough that it aches.

There's nothing in the world she wants more than his dick. Peace between earth heaven and hell and monsters gone and the beloved dead risen—none of it matters more than this. She pushes her gasping mouth against her bicep and forces her eyes open, sees the room blurred. Whiskey bottle on the bedside table, yellow lamplight casting a murky amber curve on the water-damaged veneer. The yellow curtains with their gross stains. The other bed, and why'd they even bother with it. Why aren't they tangled like this all day, all the time.

"Tell me," Sam says, low. He leans down over her, kisses her shoulders, holding her hips again. His dick rolls against her ass and she could almost come, like this. "Say it."

Like it's a challenge. "Please," Deanna says, immediately. "Sammy, c'mon. Please."

"Dee," he groans, and his hand slides around her hip, covers where she's masturbating for real, now, fucking her fingers inside and squeezing, needing him. Her fingers so wet. Blood spilling, thick and viscous, coating her to the wrists.

Her eyes screw shut and she yanks her hand away, reaches back, grabs him where she can. "Fuck me," she says, forehead against the bed, chest down against the blanket, a world of muffled dark—"Please, Sammy, I need—can you fuck me, please, I need it, I need—"

His hand snakes over her mouth, huge, covering half her face. She puffs air through her nose and it makes this stupid whimpering sound and she's down in the pit, now, she's gone, she's ready to cry for it if she has to but he just needs to—

Snap of elastic, warm skin against her ass finally instead of cotton. She struggles to spread her knees wider, slip-sliding on the polyester, but Sam doesn't need her help and never has. Thick push of the heavy pole between her thighs, a heavy teasing saw through her pussy lips and up against her clit, so good her back lurches and she grabs back at his hip, finding a twist of pushed-down fabric, pulling stupidly and desperate—but then, thank god, he pulls back, and pushes, in.

A frozen second in the black world. There's always this moment every time where she's split wide, this shock. How big he is. Even when she's this hot for it. A shock, queasy, and she remembers being on her belly on a table in a world of hot iron shadow and the line stretching, she was promised, all the way up to heaven—her eyes open against the blanket, seeing nothing at all—and then Sam breathes out hard against her shoulder and he gets her hand off his hip and presses her wrist down to the blanket and he says, "Like that," soft, and she's with her brother where she belongs, doing exactly what she's meant to, and the sound she lets out would wake half the motel if it weren't muffled behind his hand.

He fucks her hard. Always does, when they get like this. Churning his hips at first, testing rocks, but he doesn't need to go easy with her and she doesn't want him to. Deanna yanks at her wrist and he holds it harder, and she gasps and then bites against his palm and he grips her face hard enough to bruise, and then slides his hand down her throat, holding her in this underhand grip across her chest that keeps her exactly where she's wanted. She fights just long enough to prove she can't win. Then he nails her hard enough that he knocks her cervix, painful and sharp and knifing its way through her belly, and she half-screams into the mattress and then relaxes, all at once, her muscles jelly in the cage he's made of his body, her thighs giving up.

"God, yeah," Sam says, fervent. He lets go of her wrist—she leaves her hand there, loose and shocked—and shoves her legs together, resettling with his knees on the outside of hers, and when he grinds back in it's tighter, wilder. His dick thick as a country. Her other arm's trapped between her belly and the mattress and she manages enough control to slip down just enough to press light against the top of her mound, the close-trimmed hair prickling, sweat slicking everywhere, what thought arrives from some distant place that isn't occupied with the pounding rhythm inside and his chest broad and hot over her back and his balls clapping against her thighs, god—thinking, she should be able to feel it there, too. Like in dreams. His dick curving up inside and through and pushing places it should never go, but if it carved out a space just for itself, maybe it wouldn't leave. Maybe they'd be locked together. Maybe he'd stay.

She clenches, her ass tipping up. This curving heat. "That's it," Sam says, while she gasps. "You want more?" Deanna nods blind and Sam grunts, nails her harder but no faster, rhythm shoving slick into the pit of her. Somehow above her he tips, his chest flat against her back and his free hand finding one tit, gripping. Hair prickling against her shoulderblades. Her throat hurts and she realizes she's making some kind of noise but that's distant to what's happening inside, winding this tighter knot, but she can't—she's not quite—until Sam's hand clamped over her collarbones slides up, squeezes, and the dark world goes hazier, stranger. She hauls in thin air and he grips around the column over her throat and everything's strange shimmering dizziness, collapsing around her until it's just the jolt inside and the clench as he shoves everything into her and his lips open wet against the back of her neck and her body, his.

Stubble against her shoulder. A kiss on the round joint, and then on the curve of her neck. Sweat's broken out over every inch of skin and it kind of stinks. Not in a bad way. She takes a careful breath and feels it open her chest and around her throat Sam's hand is careful, soft. His thumb stroking repetitive little stripes over her slowing pulse. Deanna hums, tickling his palm, and he huffs out against her skin and lets go, cautious, sliding his fingers down her chest, her side. Her hip, which hurts for some reason. Probably something to do with asking for it to hurt.

Another kiss against her neck and then he's turning her over, keeping her close and laying right back down over her and kissing her throat and her jaw and then her temple, where—oh, it's wet, and she reaches up and grasps his arms and he says shh and he says okay? and the answer is yes, of course it's okay, because it's Sam and her and Sam and her is all that's ever okay. In the whole world it's the only thing she knows is true. She turns her head and he pushes the damp waves back from her face and puts his forehead to the angle of her jaw and breathes out this long slow breath, tickly hot against her sweaty throat, and she plumbs some immensely deep well and manages to get the wherewithal to slip a hand into his hair, fingers tracing the funny bump at the back of his skull, the one he's had ever since he was a baby. She used to feel over it when she snuck into his crib, after the fire. In beds they shared when they were six and ten, and he was so small, and she thought she'd have to keep him safe from every monstrous thing there ever was.

When he lifts up she opens her eyes. Frowning, again. No surprise. "Your face is gonna stick that way," Deanna mumbles. Hoarse.

He's watching her, very close. "I'll take my chances," he says. His hand slides over her side, careful. His mouth opens and then closes, lips tightening.

"I don't wanna talk." His chin ducks but she tugs on the little tangle of hair she's made and he looks up at her. "Don't ask, okay? I can't…"

What goes there? Number of things she can't do could fill a book. A library. Sam doesn't say anything but just pulls her in, rolls her closer, and she tucks her head down against his bicep and her nose touches his chest and she's just—warm, all the way from the top of her head to her toes, and she's throbbing so many places it's not worth counting, and there's this fuzzy place in her hindbrain that doesn't suck. Miracle of miracles. She slips a hand between her thighs and cups where it's wet, where it hurts. Slick mess. The one thing she never got, all that year. Always careful, because even if it was a point-oh-one percent chance the ramifications would've been impossible. They're impossible anyway. But there's still a second, sometimes, where she thinks…

"I'll get—" Sam starts, but before he can get far she grips his arm.

"It can wait." He pauses, uncertain, half-tense until she pulls and he gives in, draping his arm heavy over her side and letting his dumb pointy nose touch her hairline. She ducks down and kisses his tattoo and he sighs, but not in that hard-done-by way of before. Not much to smile about the last month or five but that gets her nearly there.

Deanna stretches against him, aching. The world outside the bed, still waiting. Past their vague reek of sweat and pussy and jizz commingling is a tempting waft of Chinese food. Soy and garlic. A drink or two, left in that bottle. In the morning, a drive, and impossible choices after.

Sam kisses the top of her head. "It'll wait," he says, soft. With her eyes closed and his skin against hers she can almost bear it.

[scarluna]

Thoughts of You

Y/N starts work as a client agent at a big corporate company. There, she meets Jungkook, a man who confuses the hell out of her.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, fuckboy jungkook, insecurities, smoking

Chapter available: 1 |

Chapters: 2 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, a little sexual tension

A/N: In sake of this fic, some things are added, others are a little changed, but the overall story is true. I AM AS CONFUSED AS Y/N OK? OK.

A week had passed, and Y/N found herself standing in front of her mirror, dreading the idea of stepping out. The past few days had been a relentless battle between her self-doubt and the need to push herself beyond her comfort zone. She hated the way she looked—how big she felt in her own skin. Every outfit she tried on made her feel worse, her reflection in the mirror only reinforcing the insecurities gnawing at her.

Sighing, she settled on oversized clothes, ones that concealed rather than accentuated, offering her a semblance of security. Her hair was curled loosely, cascading down her shoulders, a contrast to the chaos in her mind. A touch of makeup—just enough to make her feel like she had put in some effort, yet not enough to draw attention—completed her look.

Her dog whined at her feet, sensing her reluctance, but Y/N gave the pup a small smile before grabbing her bag and stepping out the door. The fresh air hit her face, yet it did little to ease the weight in her chest. The car ride was silent, save for the occasional deep breath she took to steel herself.

Arriving at the meetup spot, she saw her colleagues already gathered, laughter filling the air. They greeted her warmly, joking about the upcoming night, their energy so effortlessly light compared to the storm within her. For a fleeting moment, she managed a small smile, allowing herself to feel a bit of ease in their presence.

Then came the loud roar of an engine, bass-heavy music thumping through the air. The group turned, already knowing who it was before they even saw the sleek car roll up beside them. Jungkook. His presence was impossible to ignore, commanding attention the moment he stepped out.

Y/N swallowed as she caught sight of him. The disheveled hair, the relaxed posture, and—what made her stomach churn—the faint but unmistakable hickeys littering his neck.

Her heart sank, her mood plummeting instantly. She had been struggling to even step out of her house, to feel like she belonged among them, while he... he had been out, living effortlessly, having fun, and clearly enjoying the company of someone else.

She shifted her gaze away, forcing herself to maintain composure as their friends greeted him with teasing remarks. She wanted to disappear, to retreat into the comfort of her home, where she could be alone with her dog and her thoughts.

But she was here now, and she had to endure it. Even if it hurt.

The teasing began almost instantly.

“Damn, Jungkook,” one of their colleagues smirked, nudging him playfully. “Rough night?”

Another chimed in, laughing. “Or should I say, rough nights? You’ve got enough hickeys to last the week.”

Jungkook, ever the cocky one, simply grinned, running a hand through his already messy hair. “What can I say?” he shrugged, his voice dripping with amusement. “Gotta keep life interesting.”

The group erupted into laughter, the energy high and unbothered. Y/N, on the other hand, remained quiet, staring ahead as if their conversation didn’t concern her. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket, lighting it with steady hands, despite the storm raging inside her. Taking a slow, deep drag, she let the smoke swirl around her, masking the bitter taste of disappointment that sat heavy on her tongue.

She had no right to feel this way. She knew that. He wasn’t hers—never was, never would be. But for even a second, she had allowed herself to believe there was something. A fleeting glance, a moment of warmth, a shared silence that had meant nothing to him but had kept her awake at night, foolishly hoping.

Stupid. She was so, so stupid.

“Hey, you good?” One of her colleagues leaned toward her, their voice laced with concern.

Y/N forced a lazy smile, exhaling the smoke as she waved them off. “Yeah, just too sleepy to function.” A lie, but an easy one.

They seemed satisfied with her answer, turning back to the conversation as Jungkook smirked at another crude joke thrown his way. Y/N, meanwhile, sat in silence, the cigarette burning between her fingers as she fought the cruel thoughts in her head.

She needed to stop. Stop pretending. Stop romanticizing. Stop letting herself fall into this ridiculous fairytale where she was ever anything more than just another face in his orbit.

Jungkook would never see her the way she wished he would.

And it was time she stopped seeing him that way too.

The break room was lively, filled with the usual chatter and laughter as everyone settled in for their lunch break. Some were sprawled out on the couches, others engaged in a casual game of football, while a few gathered around the vending machines debating over snacks. Y/N sat at the table in front of Jungkook, absentmindedly picking at her food, her mind drifting elsewhere as the conversation carried on around her.

Jungkook, spinning lazily in his chair, suddenly spoke up, dragging everyone’s attention back to him. “You know,” he mused, stretching his arms behind his head, “I think I should date an older woman. Maybe even a MILF.”

A chorus of laughter erupted around the room. “Oh yeah?” One of the guys smirked. “Thinking of settling down already?”

Jungkook grinned, shaking his head. “Nah, just think it could be fun. Older women have their shit together, know what they want, plus…” He trailed off as he turned slightly in his chair, catching movement outside the window. His gaze locked onto a woman walking past the building, pushing a baby stroller. She was effortlessly beautiful—dressed casually yet put together, her confidence apparent in the way she carried herself.

“Damn,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Now she’s hot.”

Some of the guys turned to look, chuckling at his sudden distraction. “She’s got a baby, dude.”

Jungkook shrugged, still watching her. “So? Doesn’t mean she’s taken.” He smirked, clearly entertained by his own train of thought. “Think I should ask if she’s single?”

Y/N felt her stomach twist in disgust. She had spent the last week trying to fight off the stupid storm of feelings and confusion she had toward him, trying to remind herself that this was the reality and no matter how his words were gathered, he was still a fuckboy and probably did not mean anything he had told her so far about him being loyal. Here he was, proving her right without even realizing it.

She didn’t think. She just moved.

Pushing her chair back abruptly, she stood up and walked straight out of the break room, her face blank, her heart pounding with frustration. She didn’t even care how obvious it looked—she just needed to get out of there.

As the door swung shut behind her, Jungkook’s amused voice carried through the room. “Oh, no, Y/N is tired of my shit!” he joked, shaking his head as the others laughed.

But for the first time, something about her reaction made him pause.

-

Y/N had made it a habit to slip away during breaks, finding solace in the quiet outside. The crisp air, the burn of the cigarette between her fingers—it was the only thing that seemed to ground her these days. She avoided the break room, avoided the easy laughter and meaningless conversations, and most importantly, she avoided him.

Jungkook.

But of course, he found her anyway.

She barely had time to take another drag when she heard the door creak open behind her. She knew it was him before he even spoke.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, watching the smoke dissipate in the air before she turned her gaze to him. “No, I haven’t.”

Jungkook let out a low chuckle, stepping closer, his presence too overwhelming, too intoxicating. “Liar.” His tone was teasing, but there was something else beneath it—curiosity, maybe even concern. “You barely look at me. You don’t sit with us anymore.”

She shrugged, taking another drag, feigning indifference. “I’m just tired.”

Jungkook didn’t look convinced. His dark eyes scanned her face, as if searching for something beneath her guarded expression. The silence between them was heavy, charged. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way he was studying her, trying to read between the lines of her simple excuse.

“You sure that’s all?” His voice was lower now, softer, and it made her stomach tighten in a way she hated.

Before she could answer, his phone buzzed loudly in his pocket, breaking whatever unspoken thing had been building between them. Jungkook sighed, pulling it out and glancing at the screen. He didn’t answer immediately, but whatever he saw on the display made him smirk slightly before he finally picked up.

“Yo,” he answered casually, his voice shifting into something more playful. A few short words, and then he hung up.

Moments later, Y/N heard heels clicking against the pavement. She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was—she could already picture the kind of girl Jungkook surrounded himself with. And when she did look, her stomach twisted.

The girl was thin, almost unnaturally so, her long hair spilling down in artificially perfect waves. Everything about her was polished—the exaggerated lashes, the overly plumped lips, the body sculpted to perfection.

“Hey, you,” she greeted Jungkook with a slow, knowing smile, her voice dripping with familiarity.

They were close. Too close. The way she looked at him, the way he smirked at her—it didn’t take much to guess what kind of history they had.

Y/N felt something ugly crawl up her throat, but she swallowed it down. She refused to let it show. Instead, she forced a weak smile, one that probably looked as fake as the girl’s hair extensions.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” she murmured, flicking her cigarette away as she immediately slipped back into the building without giving Jungkook time to respond. This entire thing kept running in her mind, it was as if this was all she could think of the month she has been here. Y/N had to get a fucking grip and get over this, all of the men she had met in her past were the same, men who were one in words yet did the opposite. She shouldn’t have been surprised about this, it was as if Universe sent a huge middle finger her way for being so closed off. -

Y/N sat across from her close friend at their usual café, the scent of fresh coffee filling the air. She stirred her drink absentmindedly, sighing as she recounted everything—Jungkook, the break room incident, the fake-looking girl, and the way she had walked away, feeling small and ridiculous for even being affected.

Her friend had a a knack for reading people far too well, listened attentively, nodding along as Y/N spoke. When she was finished, her friend leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

“You know what I think?” she said thoughtfully.

Y/N groaned. “Here we go.”

“I think you’re stuck.”

Y/N frowned. “Stuck how?”

“You’ve been in your comfort zone for too long, Y/N,” her friend said seriously. “You’re always playing it safe, always hiding. And I get it—you like your space, your quiet world. But growth doesn’t happen in places that are comfortable. If you want to move on, if you want to feel better about yourself, you need to push yourself.”

Y/N arched a brow. “And how do you suggest I do that?”

“Easy. Start by doing things you wouldn’t normally do. Wear something different, change up your makeup, say yes to things instead of immediately retreating.” Her friend smiled. “Do it for yourself. Not for Jungkook, not for anyone else. Just you.”

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. It sounded simple enough, but it wasn’t. She had built her world around comfort and control, and stepping outside of that felt terrifying. But at the same time, a part of her knew her friend was right.

And so, the next morning, she did just that.

For once, she didn’t reach for her oversized clothes. Instead, she slid into a pair of skinny jeans, ones that hugged her figure in a way she wasn’t used to but didn’t hate. She paired it with a soft, slightly low-cut blouse—work-appropriate yet subtly flattering. Her makeup was a little more refined, enhancing rather than hiding. She stared at herself in the mirror, unsure at first. But the longer she looked, the more she felt… okay. Not completely confident, but okay.

And that was a start.

When Y/N arrived at the office, the reaction was immediate.

“Damn, Y/N, look at you!” one of her colleagues grinned.

“You look amazing!” another chimed in, eyes flickering over her in genuine appreciation.

She offered them a small, almost shy smile, mumbling a quiet “Thanks” as she made her way to her desk. It felt strange, the attention, but it wasn’t bad. For once, she wasn’t trying to disappear into the background.

The door opened, and in walked Jungkook.

She held her breath, but he barely reacted. He walked past her, barely sparing a glance before offering a casual, “Hey,” before settling into his place.

That was it.

Y/N exhaled, realizing something.

She hadn’t done this for him. And that meant his reaction—or lack of it—didn’t matter.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt something close to free.

The afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky as Y/N stepped outside for a quick smoke break. The air was thick with casual conversation and laughter as a few colleagues gathered, all taking a moment to unwind. She leaned against the railing, taking a slow drag from her cigarette, exhaling as she listened to the chatter around her.

“Y/N, you look different lately,” a voice piped up beside her. She turned to see one of her colleagues, a guy who had always been a little too flirty, watching her with an interested smirk. “In a good way,” he added, his eyes running over her outfit.

She gave him a polite smile, shrugging. “Just trying something new.”

“Well, it suits you,” he said, stepping a little closer. “We should celebrate the new you. Maybe grab some drinks after work? My place, maybe even watch a movie?” His voice had a certain implication to it, and Y/N felt her stomach twist.

She chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass.”

“Oh, come on,” he pressed, his tone playful but persistent. “It’ll be fun. Just a casual hangout.”

Y/N stiffened slightly, the forced smile on her lips faltering. “I said no,” she replied, firmer this time, but he didn’t seem to take the hint, leaning in just a little too much.

Before she could react, another voice cut through the air.

“Is there a problem here?”

The mood shifted instantly.

Jungkook had been standing nearby, leaning against the wall with his own cigarette in hand, casually listening in. But now, his entire posture had changed—his jaw tight, his expression unreadable as he stared at the guy with an intensity that made everyone else go quiet.

The colleague blinked, caught off guard. “Nah, man. Just talking.”

Jungkook didn’t break eye contact. “Didn’t sound like just talking.” His voice was low, calm, but there was something sharp in it. Something warning.

The guy let out a small, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Relax, dude. Just asking her out.”

“She said no,” Jungkook stated plainly.

Silence stretched between them, tension thick enough to cut through. Y/N glanced between the two, her heart beating a little faster, not expecting Jungkook to step in like this.

The colleague raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No harm done.” He took a step back, throwing Y/N one last glance before mumbling something under his breath and walking off.

Jungkook took a slow drag from his cigarette before flicking his gaze toward Y/N. “You good?”

She exhaled, nodding. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just studied her for a moment before finally nodding back, looking away as he took another drag.

But even as the conversation around them resumed, Y/N could still feel his presence beside her, solid and unwavering. And for some reason, that alone made her feel a little lighter.

-

The workday finally came to an end, and the office slowly emptied as people grabbed their bags, exchanging casual goodbyes. Y/N slung her purse over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out into the cool evening air.

She made her way toward the bus stop, the day’s events still sitting heavy in her mind. Just as she was about to put in her headphones to drown out her thoughts, she heard the familiar sound of an engine purring beside her.

Jungkook’s sleek car rolled up, the passenger window sliding down effortlessly. “Where you headed?” he asked casually, one hand resting on the wheel.

Y/N blinked, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “Uh… home?”

Jungkook smirked. “Get in. I’ll drive you.”

She hesitated.

This was unexpected. It wasn’t like they were close. Sure, they shared breaks, exchanged words, but this? This felt like something else.

“I’m fine, the bus is—”

“Slow. And uncomfortable,” he cut in smoothly. “Come on, it’s a thirty-minute ride. You’d rather sit in a crowded bus when I’m right here?” His gaze flickered toward her, something teasing yet unreadable behind those dark eyes.

Y/N bit her lip, the refusal sitting on the tip of her tongue. But then she remembered her friend’s words—step out of your comfort zone.

Maybe this was one of those moments.

With a small sigh, she relented. “Fine.”

Sliding into the passenger seat, she was instantly engulfed in warmth, the subtle hum of the car’s engine vibrating beneath her. And the scent—God, his scent—wrapped around her, all masculine spice and something distinctly him. She forced herself to focus on buckling her seatbelt rather than the fact that she was sitting next to Jungkook in a confined space, inhaling his cologne like it was some kind of drug.

He pulled onto the road, one hand lazily gripping the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift.

“So,” he mused after a moment, glancing at her. “What’s your deal?”

Y/N frowned. “My deal?”

“Yeah. You don’t talk much. You keep to yourself. And yet…” He trailed off, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’ve been looking different lately. Acting different too.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “So I put on better clothes and now I’m a mystery?”

Jungkook chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through the car. “You were already a mystery. This just makes you more interesting.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but felt the heat creeping up her neck. The conversation flowed easier than she expected, light banter mixed with moments of silence that weren’t uncomfortable. The drive went by quicker than she thought, and before she knew it, Jungkook was pulling up in front of her apartment building, shifting the car into park.

She turned to thank him, but the words caught in her throat.

The air between them shifted.

The low hum of the engine did nothing to mask the way the tension suddenly thickened, heavy and lingering. The dim glow of the streetlights outside barely illuminated the inside of the car, casting soft shadows across Jungkook’s sharp features.

His gaze settled on her, slow and deliberate.

Y/N swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly around her purse.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering down to her lips before meeting her gaze again. “You’re hard to read, you know that?” His voice was lower now, smoother.

She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, forcing a small smile. “Maybe I like it that way.”

Jungkook’s smirk deepened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Yeah?”

She nodded, gripping the handle of the door before things could spiral into something she wasn’t sure she was ready for. “Thanks for the ride, Jungkook.”

He didn’t stop her. Didn’t say anything else. Just watched as she slipped out of the car and made her way to her building.

But she could feel his gaze on her, lingering, burning, until she finally disappeared inside—her heart hammering against her ribs the entire way up to her apartment.

[chroniclesofskz]

Virgin Boss

Y/N was a young woman with a penchant for the unpredictable. Her bright blonde hair fell in loose waves down her back, framing a face that was equal parts mischief and innocence. She had a way of lighting up a room with her infectious laugh and the sparkle in her ocean eyes. Tonight was no different. The neon lights of the bustling city outside the bar were reflected in her eyes as she threw her head back, letting out a giggle that was a bit too loud for her own ears. Her friends had left hours ago, unable to keep up with her insatiable appetite for fun. But Y/N was just getting started.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, interrupting her latest dance move. She fished it out, squinting at the screen. It was a message from her boss, Mr. Bang. The sight of his name sent a strange thrill through her. He was known for being a cold, demanding CEO, but tonight, she felt invincible. The whiskey in her system had loosened her tongue and her inhibitions. With a devilish grin, she typed out a reply that would normally make her cringe. "You're such a virgin who needs to get laid," she sent, and hit send without a second thought. Her giggle turned into a cackle as she chugged the last of her drink and slammed the glass on the counter.

The next morning, she woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth that tasted like a frat house floor. The memories of the previous night were hazy at best. She stumbled into work, trying to piece together the events of the night before. It was only when she walked into the office that she remembered her text to Mr. Bang. Panic set in, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. She hoped he wouldn't bring it up.

But of course, he did. His office door was open, and she saw him leaning back in his chair, scrolling through his phone. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, a smirk playing on his lips. He beckoned her over, and she felt the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. "Good morning, Y/N. Did you enjoy your… enlightening evening?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement. She gulped, her mind racing to come up with an excuse. But before she could say anything, he handed her a glass of water and some painkillers. "You look like you could use these," he said, his eyes scanning her body, taking in the tightness of her skirt and the way her blouse clung to her in all the wrong places.

Her hangover fog lifted slightly as she took the offered pills, her cheeks still on fire. "Thank you, Mr. Bang," she murmured, trying to compose herself. He leaned back, his fingers steepled under his chin. "You know, I've been thinking," he began, his voice dropping to a purr, "about what you said last night." Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. "What I need," he continued, "is someone to show me the ropes."

He stood up, and she watched in horror as he stalked towards her, the power dynamics in the room shifting palpably. His hands landed firmly on the chair arms, caging her in, and she could feel the heat of his body mere inches from hers. He leaned down, and she could see the hunger in his eyes as they traveled from her eyes to her lips. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, mingling with the faint scent of his desire. "If I'm such a big virgin," he whispered, his breath hot on her neck, "why don't you do something about it?"

Her heart was racing now, a mix of fear and excitement sending waves of heat through her body. She didn't know what she'd gotten herself into, but she couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her at his words. Her eyes darted to his, and she saw the challenge in them. He was calling her bluff, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to play this dangerous game. But something inside her, something primal and wild, urged her to accept it.

He stepped back and locked the door, the click echoing through the now silent room. His movements were deliberate, each step calculated to build the tension. As he approached the window, she watched him, her breathing shallow and rapid. He drew the blinds one by one, shrouding them in darkness. The only light now was the faint sunlight, the city outside, casting little cracks of sun across the floor. When he turned to face her again, she could see the outline of his muscular frame, the contours of his face highlighted by the dim light.

"Mr. Bang," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I didn't mean—"

"Oh, but I think you did," he cut her off, his smirk deepening. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to trace the curve of her jaw, his touch sending electric currents down her spine. "Or are you just playing coy with me?"

Y/N's eyes widened, and she swallowed hard, trying to form words that wouldn't betray the sudden ache between her legs. The way he was looking at her, like she was the only thing that mattered in the world, was intoxicating. His fingers slid down to her neck, and she could feel the pulse racing there. "Mr. Bang," she began again, her voice barely a whisper.

He didn't let her finish. With a feral growl, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Shh, princess," he murmured, his hand tightening around her mouth. "You're going to shut up and take it like a good girl." His words sent a thrill through her, and she felt a gush of wetness between her thighs. Before she could process what was happening, he crouched down and ripped her shirt open, the buttons flying everywhere.

Her breasts were now exposed, the white lace of her bra the only barrier between her and his hungry gaze. He took a moment to appreciate the sight, licking his lips before he tore the bra off in one swift motion. The cool air hit her hardened nipples, making her gasp. He took one in his mouth, sucking hard and leaving a red mark, claiming her as his. The sensation was so intense that she could feel it all the way to her core. The sound of her own moan was muffled by his hand, which was now pressing against her mouth.

Mr. Bang stood up abruptly, his towering presence making her feel even more vulnerable. "Now, stand up," he ordered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. Y/N complied, her legs wobbly from the combination of fear and arousal. He grabbed her arms, his grip firm and unyielding, and pushed her down onto his desk. The cold glass sent a jolt of sensation through her body, making her wetness even more pronounced.

Her heart raced as he unzipped her skirt with a deliberate slowness that made her squirm. She watched the fabric slide down her legs, pooling at her ankles, leaving her in just her white lacy thong. He took in the sight of her barely concealed pussy, his eyes dark with lust. His hand reached out and traced the line of the thong, his fingertips grazing her wetness. The anticipation was unbearable, her breath hitching in her chest. "You think I'm a virgin?" he whispered, his voice thick with challenge. "I'll show you just how much of a virgin I really am."

With a swift motion, he yanked her hands behind her back, looping his necktie around her wrists and binding them together tightly. The restriction sent a jolt of excitement through her body, her breasts pushing up against the desk as she tried to get comfortable. The sound of his belt buckle unclasping and the metallic clink as it hit the floor made her heart skip a beat. He stepped closer, his crotch now mere inches from her face. "Look what you've done to me," he said, his voice strained with need.

In the reflection of the mirror that lay in the corner, she caught a glimpse of his massive erection straining against his tailored trousers. The realization of its size hit her like a punch to the gut. "Mr. Bang," she murmured again, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and desire. He leaned down, his smirk widening as he heard the doubt in her voice. "Don't worry, princess," he whispered. "I'll make sure it fits."

With a swift yank, he pulled her panties aside, and before she could protest, his cock was pressing against her slick entrance. The head of his cock nudged at her, and she gasped at the intrusion, her eyes wide with shock. "Take it," he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Take it like the good girl you are."

With one swift thrust, he was inside her, filling her up completely. The pain was intense, a stark contrast to the pleasure that had been building inside her. She screamed, the sound muffled by his sock as he stuffed it into her mouth, his hand wrapping around her hair to hold her head in place. Her eyes watered, but she bit down on the fabric to keep from making too much noise. Her body was his now, and she knew she had to submit to his every whim.

He slapped her ass, the sound echoing through the room as he whispered, "Naughty girl, I told you to shut the fuck up." His grip on her hair tightened, and she felt the sting of his slap, the heat spreading across her skin. The pain was a strange mix of punishment and pleasure, making her cunt clench around him. She never knew she had a kinky side, but here she was, her body responding to Mr. Bang's dominance like it was made for this.

Her legs felt like jelly, trembling with each deep thrust he gave her. The pressure building inside her was unbearable, and she was sure she was going to come any second. His other hand found her clit, and he began to rub it with a fierce intensity that sent waves of pleasure crashing over her. The sensation was too much, a symphony of pain and ecstasy that she didn't know she could handle. But she was going to try, for him.

Suddenly, she felt a release, her body convulsing as she squirted all over his cock. The wetness was a stark contrast to the dryness of the room, the sound of her juices hitting the floor echoing through the silence. He pulled out with a grunt, his cock glistening with her arousal. He took a moment to admire the sight of her dripping onto the floor, the puddle growing larger with each passing second. "I'm not finished with you yet, bitch," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

Without warning, he slammed back into her, the sensation of his thick member filling her up making her eyes roll back in her head. She couldn't believe how much she enjoyed this, the feeling of being used by her boss, the man she had always feared and desired. His thrusts grew harder, faster, more punishing. She could feel every vein, every ridge of him, as he claimed her in a way no one else ever had. The pain was intense, but it only served to heighten her pleasure.

Her moans grew weaker, muffled by the fabric in her mouth, as she felt his grip tighten on her hair. His grunts grew louder in her ear, his breathing more ragged. She knew he was close, and the thought of his release made her clench around him, eager to feel his hot cum fill her up. Her legs were trembling uncontrollably, and she could feel the desk biting into her skin, but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the man fucking her into oblivion.

With one final, powerful thrust, she felt him spasm inside her, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself into her quivering cunt. The warm, salty liquid filled her, and she moaned in pleasure as she felt the heat of his seed against her walls. He held himself deep within her for a moment, his breathing slowing before he pulled out with a wet sound. The feeling of emptiness was almost painful, but she knew it was only temporary.

Y/N lay there, gasping for air, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Tears streamed down her cheeks, not from pain but from the intensity of the experience. The room was still, the only sounds their heavy breaths and the rustling of their clothes. The sock in her mouth was wet with her saliva, and she felt a mix of relief and disappointment when he pulled it out.

Mr. Bang leaned back, his chest heaving, and she could see the satisfaction in his eyes as he looked at her. "Don't ever test my abilities again," he murmured, his voice still filled with the raw power that had just claimed her. He let go of her hair, and she felt her head fall heavily onto the desk. She didn't have the strength to hold it up anymore, her body feeling like it had been wrung out and then filled with something entirely new.

For a few moments, she just lay there, her body pulsing with the aftermath of what had just transpired. The coldness of the desk against her skin was a stark contrast to the warmth that still lingered between her legs. She could feel the stickiness of their combined juices, and the scent of sex hung heavily in the air. It was a scent that was both alien and thrillingly intimate, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

Mr. Bang stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. He bent down, his hands gently but firmly grabbing her hips and turning her over. She gasped at the sudden movement, her legs still unsteady from the intensity of her climax. He knelt down, his hands running over her bare skin as he wiped her clean with a warm cloth. The sensation was almost too much to bear, her pussy feeling overly sensitive. She winced at the slight pain but couldn't deny the way his tender ministrations sent a new wave of desire through her body.

Once he was satisfied, he stood up and zipped her skirt back up, the sound seeming overly loud in the quiet office. He handed her a clean shirt, his smirk never fading. "Wear this," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. She took it, her eyes still glazed over with lust. She hadn't realized just how much she'd enjoyed the encounter until now.

As she pulled on the shirt, Mr. Bang took a moment to appreciate the view of her half-dressed form. The sight of her bare, reddened skin, the way her chest heaved with each breath, was enough to make him want to take her again. But he knew better than to push his luck. For now. He watched her with a hunger in his eyes that she couldn't miss, and she felt a thrill knowing she had that power over him.

When she had herself covered, Mr. Bang stepped closer, his hand wrapping around her waist. He pulled her into him, his grip firm but gentle, and leaned down to kiss her deeply. His tongue sought hers, his teeth grazing her bottom lip in a possessive bite that sent a shiver through her. She moaned into his mouth, unable to resist the pull of his dominance. He tasted of mint and power, a heady combination that made her knees weak.

"Same time next week," he murmured against her lips, the promise in his eyes unmistakable. She nodded, her heart racing as she felt his smirk press into her cheek. This was a game she hadn't expected to play, but now that she had tasted the thrill of it, she was hooked. He released her, his hand lingering for a moment before dropping away.

Y/N stumbled out of Mr. Bang's office, her legs still wobbly from the intense encounter. The cold slap to her ass echoed down the hallway, and she couldn't help but let out a cheeky yelp. The sound of his deep, satisfied chuckle followed her out, sending another wave of heat through her body. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, his silhouette framed by the light from his desk lamp, and she felt a strange sense of pride. He had claimed her, marked her, and she had liked it.

[littelovelunette]

Could you do non binary jinx x reader where jinx keeps keeping their binder on too long/too tight ?

(If not it’s fine)

Love your writing! Hope you’re taking care !

Not Good Good

Contains unsafe binding practices, mild chest dysphoria, mild injury, hurt/comfort, non binary!jinx

Jinx had always been reckless. That was nothing new. They ran headfirst into danger with a manic grin, laughed in the face of explosions, and lived their life like a fuse burning down to its last spark. But this? This was different. This wasn’t a battle against some Enforcer or a wild plan to one-up Silco’s enemies. This was their own body, their own damn stubbornness, working against them.

You noticed it first when they stretched, arms raised high, a grimace flickering across their face before they could bury it under something cocky. "Jinx." You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "When’s the last time you took off your binder?"

They snorted, rolling their eyes. "Pfft. Dunno, babe. Time’s a social construct." You gave them a look, and their grin twitched. "Seriously, Jinx."

Their fingers tapped at their belt, restless energy crackling in their veins. "I’m fine," they said, voice light, but the way they shifted their weight told another story.

You sighed, stepping closer. Gently, you ran your hands over their ribs, fingers ghosting over the fabric stretched too tight beneath their cropped vest. They flinched.

"Jinx." Your voice softened. "How long?"

Their jaw tightened. "Dunno. A day? Two? Feels fine."

Two days. Two whole days?

"Jinx, you can’t do that. Your ribs—"

"Are still in one piece," they interrupted, forcing a grin. "See? No sudden ‘crack’ sounds, no lungs collapsing. I’m good!"

You frowned, but before you could argue, they suddenly swayed, grabbing onto the table for balance. Shit.

"Okay, yeah, maybe not good good," they admitted, blinking hard, like the room had just tilted sideways.

"Sit. Now." Your voice left no room for debate.

For once, they didn’t argue. You guided them onto the couch, kneeling in front of them. Your fingers went to the hem of their vest, and they tensed.

"Let me help," you murmured.

Jinx hesitated, biting their lip, but nodded. Slowly, carefully, you helped them peel away the layers until only the binder remained, black fabric stretched taut over their ribs. They sucked in a sharp breath when you started rolling it up, and you immediately paused.

"Too much?"

"Nah." They exhaled shakily. "Just... weird."

You worked slower, easing it over their shoulders until finally—finally—it was off. The angry red lines biting into their skin made your stomach twist. Their ribs were sore to the touch, muscles stiff from lack of air.

Jinx slumped back against the cushions, taking their first real deep breath in days. Their shoulders rose, fell. They blinked at the ceiling, lips parted slightly, like they’d forgotten what it was like to breathe freely.

"Better?" you asked softly.

They let out a breathless laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, s’better."

You traced a careful finger along the reddened skin, your heart aching at the sight. "Jinx, you have to be careful."

They rolled their head to the side, looking at you. "I just—" Their voice wavered for a split second before they swallowed hard. "I don’t like it. My chest. Feels wrong."

You reached for their hand, squeezing it gently. "I know, baby. I know. But hurting yourself won’t help. You need to give your body breaks."

They exhaled, shoulders slumping. "I don’t wanna look in the mirror and see that."

You brushed their messy blue strands back, pressing a kiss to their temple. "Then we’ll find something that works better for you. A safer binder. A looser fit. Anything, as long as you don’t end up hurting yourself like this again."

Jinx’s fingers tightened around yours. For once, they didn’t have a quip, didn’t deflect with jokes or chaos. They just nodded, eyes a little too bright, a little too raw.

"...Okay," they whispered.

You kissed their knuckles, lingering there. "Okay."

That night, you kept them close, fingers tracing over the spots where the fabric had left its mark. You’d remind them as many times as it took—they weren’t broken. They weren’t wrong. They were Jinx, and you loved them, all of them.

Even on the nights they didn’t.

[reality-shitting]

1) My name is Java Lillathae Ragnvindr!

2) "Java" has been my chosen name since I was 11. "Lillathae" was the name of my first Genshin OC, her name based off Leelathae/Lillith from Cursed Princess Club. And Ragnvindr is my fiance's name. I joked with him that since I'm changing my name when I go to Mond, I'll be missing a last name, so can I take yours? And he chose to take it seriously so now I'm Ragnvindr.

3) When I wake up, if Diluc is still in bed (which is rare) I'll cuddle with him before I have to start the day. If he's not in bed, he's usually doing paperwork in his office already, so I'll give him a good morning kiss before anything. Adelinde usually has breakfast and coffee ready, it's a matter of what time I wake up if it's brought to me in bed or not.

4) My life.. Is SOOOO relaxed. I can do anything I want. I can run free on mountain tops and fields. I can sit and paint and draw. I can bake or cook or read. Of course, I'm not some freeloader. I've been helping Diluc with winery affairs and I'm steadily learning to become the second head of the winery. I'll be his barmaid at the Angel's Share and assist with the harvests. It's so freeing being able to balance work and play so easily now.

5) Evening. Or late night. I love the view of sunsets and the perfect temperature as cotton candy clouds fill the skies. It's so serene to me. And with night, I can lay in bed or sit by the fireplace and read or draw or snack while Diluc finishes up his work. He leaves to be the Darknight Hero at midnight, so I usually stay up to see him off and give him a kiss goodnight.

6) Warm Chai milk tea. That, plus a comfy blanket by the fire during a rainy night? Yes, please.

7) I left them behind with my past life. I had a sister and she had a family of her own, so I still shift back to see her. Albedo made my body, so I suppose you could say he's my father? Neither of us like seeing it that way though. Unless it's me bringing it up to be a chaotic bastard lol

8) They were Not Good

10) I'm still pretty awkward and shy so I haven't quite branched out socially yet.

11) I like visiting the Knights of Favonius library! Lisa is very sweet, from the few times we've spoke. I also like volunteering at the cat cafe, playing with the kitties and helping clean up after them. I think it's much easier to befriend animals than people.

12) I do! My dawnlight! I love him so so much.

13) We met because he had been interested in me and keeping an eye on me from a distance. He saw me stand up to people and defend those I cared about with zero hesitation, and he immediately wanted to get closer to me. He saw I was being hit on by Kaeya and debating getting with him for a night, so Diluc decided to swoop in knowing that I had actual feelings for him. So we started talking after that and started dating about a month later. I said I love you first. Our first date, we went to a bookstore and sat down in a coffee shop. We picked out poetry books and highlighted lines that made us think of the other.

14) I have lots of favorite colors! Black, red, blue, pink, lavender <3 I usually have an alt style, but now I'm being showered in luxury Victorian style dresses and outfits. I still have a wide variety of clothes, but I've started wearing a bit more of the fancy stuff lately

15) That's what's neat, ALLLLLL the time is my spare time now!

16) I read or meditate or draw to relax, but life is already so much more peaceful than what I'm used to.

17) I love sweets!! Cakes, cookies, pastries, oh my!!! You'll never see me saying no to some kind of dessert. I like Fonta, since it's the most easily accessible carbonated drink and I loved Soda before I moved here, but I also love juice :) I really really REALLY like sunsettia juice. Staff usually cook for us living at the winery, but that doesn't mean there aren't times that Diluc and I don't cook. I love cooking and baking and I love sharing those with the people I love. Diluc will do the same for me too. If I'm not busy doing something already, I'll lend a hand in the kitchen. Diluc will too, but he's far busier than any of us most days.

18) My Diluc. I don't even have to think about it. He was my support before, he was healing and comfort. We were forced apart and it kills me every day. He believed I could shift and be with him in Mond forever, too. Long before I came to Shiftblr. Long before I lost him. He made me feel so loved and belonging. Like a ferocious lion caring for the softest little bunny; he was feared, revered and respected by all, but to me, he was a kitty. Gentle, kind, playful, loving, protective. And after all, bunnies and cats are best friends. He loved me like a treasure and I did all I could to make sure the sentiment was shared. I never wanted him to believe I loved him for his money, power, influence, status, whatever, I loved him. And everyday, I made sure he knew that. And he loved me just as ferociously. He saw how much love I had to give, not just to him but to others, and he felt a sense of injustice. I had been given a rough hand from medical and mental health, to financial stress, to familial issues, to general misfortune. So much bad happened to me, yet I was incredibly kind and warm. What justice is that? So, knowing that I was a shifter, he asked me how the practice worked. I explained the basics and he began commissioning Albedo. Albedo was able to tweak my genetics and recreated my body in Mondstadt, with my health conditions gone and replacing some of my DNA with rabbits'. Diluc's nickname for me was Bunny, and now I am a bunny! As I mentioned, someone happened and we were thrashed apart without saying goodbye. Ever since then, I'd been dedicated to seeing him again. I wouldn't give up on him, because fuck that other person who hurt so goddamn many. I wasn't letting abusers control people like dolls anymore. I'd get back to my Diluc one way or another. After months and months of time apart, finally, finally, I was here. I woke up and I saw him again. He saw me. Time stopped after that. So, now, we're back together. Gave the middle finger to every blockade that kept us apart. Now, every aspect of my life is better. I am engaged to a wonderful man, part of a beautiful community, free as a bird and loved as I always should have been. Happiness is not only the greatest revenge, but you'll be so happy that the revenge is only a slight bonus. So that's why I shifted to Mond. I'm not done chasing fairytales just yet.

Think FROM not OF!

Okay guys, here's another tip that I have for you all! Just like the title says instead of thinking of your dr think from it!

Now what do I mean by this? Can you do me a favor? You will? Yippie! (I really hope you said yes or else this looks incredibly stupid)

Think about your dr, describe it! In your head or out loud it's your decision! I'll give you some time okay?!

You're done? Great, now pay attention to how you thought about your dr. Did you say things like "Oh when I get there" or "I can't wait to do XYZ"

If so, this is what I want you to do. Your dr isn't narnia, or the north pole. It's not a fictional place that you can only dream of, it's REAL! So think of it as such.

Instead of thinking about getting there/going there/what's waiting for you. Think about it just like you do your cr. You know your dr right? I mean you're there right, so why are you thinking about as if you're not?

Here is what I want you all to do, answer these questions FROM your dr! Do not create separation, answer these just like you would if someone asked you here. If you do not know how to respond that is fine!

What is your name?

What a pretty name! What does it mean?

Omg, I love that! But I'm curious what do you do first thing in the morning?

I do that too! What is your day-to-day life like?

Mhm, I don't know how you do it...what's your favorite time of day?

See me I prefer late at night! Speaking of late at night, do you have any favorite late-night snacks?

I see I see! What about family? Who are they? Do you have any siblings?

I have three myself! What about your parents? What do they do?

That's cool! I don't think I know what my dad does, to be honest...

What about your friend group? Who's in it? Describe them!

Yeah, my friends are very eccentric...to say the least but I love them! What are some things you do with them for fun?

That sounds so invite please invite me next time! Now I'm kinda nosy so...do you have a s/o?

Really?! Tell me about them! How did you meet? Who said I love you first? First date? I wanna know it all!

That is so cute! You guys are so cute! But tell me about yourself now! Fav color? What's your clothing style?

Mine is pink, and I love the y2k aesthetic! What do you do in your spare time?

You're so cool! But what do you do to relax?

Yes relaxation is so important! But you know what else is? FOOD! What do you like to eat? Fav food? Fav drink? Do you prefer to cook at home or eat out?

I see I see! That all sounds so yummy! Now as much as I would love to spend more time with you I'm afraid I have to go but not without one last question...what is something that you love the most, now I want you to think deeply about this! It could be a person, place, thing, animal but tell me why! Is it the reason why you're shifting here? Dig deep!

Okay my loves I just thought to do this randomly I hope you all enjoy! Feel free to reblog with your answers, comment, or just answer them in your head do whatever you want! But be sure to think FROM your dr not OF IT!

[flufflecat]

Got to stolen century in my relisten and started tearing up at work because of magnus carving the duck. Just me in the back room, crying over the dish sink for normal reasons.