#auburn is most team

[plaid-n-converse]

i apologize for the person i'm about to be

[andersonfilms]

≛ THE APPLE'S ROTTEN STRAIGHT TO THE CORE!

❝ ABBY!CENTRIC ONE SHOT ❞

♪ ˚. THE BRAT CHALLENGE ♱ ⋆.˚

feat. drummer!abby x fem!reader x footballplayer!ellie

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: switch!abby (kinda), jealousy, cheating, abby’s pierced nipples, reader desc. feminine, fingering, munch activities, toxicity ensuing, voyerisum, strap sex.

THE APPLE'S ROTTEN STRAIGHT TO THE CORE, ellie williams, sporting 88’ on the back of her jersey, the world renowned football player from the united states. the overly competitive blood runs through her veins, passed down from her father, just as well as an overpowering ego the size of texas. she has the girl of her dreams, the most important game of her life in sight, but what happens when one drummer threatens to wreck it all?

wc. 10k

It’s easy to feel safe and comfortable with her, slipping into a simple life. Traveling the world with your favorite soccer player, the auburn-haired five-foot-five of pure talent, as soon as her custom cleats step foot on the field. 

When the crowd echoes chants of her name, the rumbling of the rowdy fans, aggressive shouts cursing the other team. With crushed beer cans, sunflower seeds are spat on the ground, and they are begging for a goal. The 88’ jersey was littered across the stands. Every fan in the arena went to see her, yet you aren’t here. 

It was one of the biggest games of her career, and you would not be seen anywhere, especially after the past week. She doesn’t blame you; Ellie could only blame herself but needs her good luck charm. The events replaying in her mind, haunting her while she tries to get one wink of sleep, but the look of horror in your eyes, the shoulder check you left her with, green eyes pleading to reason with her, but you refused. 

Let me know when you want to grow the fuck up and tell me what’s wrong with you. 

The words running in her mind, haunting her as she sleeps at night, wondering if today is the day the stone will be unturned or if she’ll actually tell you everything bothering her. But she doesn’t. Never had she seen you like it; rage carries higher than the waves of a tsunami, and all of it, every drop of water, seems to be crashing over her. 

Every drop of it suffocates her until there is no oxygen left to breathe. 

When she gets home, she scours the apartment for a trace of you, yet half of your belongings are absent. Ellie starts to wonder if she’s pushed you too far this time. Always, she’s betted on you sticking around through thick and thin but maybe you finally had enough. 

Has she pushed you too far? Are you too far out of reach? She has no choice but to let you drown with the devil itself, succumbing to your own needs for once, not hers. 

The side of the closet holding your belongings was in disarray. Ellie could see that your favorite belongings were absent. All the sweaters, hoodies, hell, even the flannels you would steal from her were meticulously folded and placed in the corner. 

Ellie thought you would give her the benefit of the doubt. She thought you would let her explain why she had taken the job offer without consoling you. Now, considering what she seems to be losing, there’s nothing she wishes for more than to take it all back. 

Any success is so trivial if she has no one to celebrate it with, not without you. 

From the very start, you’ve been right there by her side. From the very beginning, it wasn’t as picture-perfect as she imagined. The fairytale began with what she thought would be a never-ending love story. 

Something so pure, it could never turn rotten. 

—

Growing up on the outskirts of New York had its perks. The small town was busy, yet the countryside tucked an hour away gave you a sense of solitude. Entirely predictable suburbs, the cul-de-sac tucked in the back of the neighborhood reeks of disturbed suburbia. 

Everyone knew everyone, and you knew Ellie. 

You were ten the day the two of you became friends, and you’ll never forget it. Clumsily, you had just fallen off your bike, knees skidding by the concrete as the skin had been peeled, the wound viciously open. 

“Did you fall—” the girl shakes her head at herself, curses flying into the wind. “Of course you did. God, so stupid.” 

She continues talking to herself as you weep slightly in a pathetic manner. Affectionately, the mysterious girl who also happens to be riding her bike past the park in your neighborhood pats you gently on the shoulder. 

“I'll be right back. Stay there. I'll be back. Promise.” 

She disappears on her blue and red bike, red hair flying in any direction the wind takes, but returns just like she said — a girl of her word. 

“Here, let me fix you.” She grabs the first-aid kid from the bucket on her bike. Ellie kneels on the ground. You notice her bright blue Converse with red laces, which match her bicycle perfectly. 

“Yeah, okay—” you sniffle, wiping away your tears as the nice girl tends to your knee. “Thanks.”

She grabs the needed tools, “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. Well, I used to fix my dad all the time. He's a soccer player and gets hurt a lot. 

You stay silent as she rambles on. 

“One day, going to be just like him, but better. My old man got too old before he decided to be good. I'm going to be the best player ever.” 

“I bet you will be.” your eyes find hers, the sun making them shine like an emerald diamond, just like the one your mom wears on her ring finger. 

“My coach says I'm good already but tells me not to get my hopes up.” 

You realize Ellie has already cleaned your wound; her small hand applies pressure with the gauze as he wraps it away. She's so concentrated but simultaneously rambles away about her dad, the last soccer game she played in, and jokes to get your mind off the pain. 

“How does it feel?” Ellie asks, the corner of her lip upturns, a soft smile gracing her freckled, full cheeks. 

“Better,” you thank her, smiling shyly. She observes you as you hop back on your bike, ensuring you aren't in pain. Curiously, her mind drifts to how cute you are, and she wonders why her stomach is in complete knots. 

She confuses it for sickness. 

“You’re welcome.” Ellie stretches the nape of her neck, and her short hair sticks to her skin from the heat. “I'm Ellie, by the way.” 

“I know.” You offer your name as Ellie blushes, her cheeks tinted pink. The love you feel is etched right into her heart, and she feels it from the first moment your name is said. 

In a cliche, obvious way, the rest was history. 

The two of you were best friends until college, bringing out the best in you—platonic love blossoming into something sweet, a one-in-a-million love you can only hope to find in someone else. 

The tricky thing? It works. The two of you fit better than you could have ever dreamed of. The incredible bliss of youth leaves your faith blinded, corrupted by the true love you have for Ellie. Oblivious to flaws, all you see is her. Assuring you follow her around like a lost puppy; anything she wants, she gets. The skeletons in the closet are no match for the two of you, each being dragged out one by one. 

But not by either of you. 

— 

One Week earlier…

“Would you stop so we can talk about this?” Ellie nearly shouts at you, granting her another eye roll, she’s lost count on how many you’ve thrown at her since the two of you left the club. The longing looks, her wandering olive eyes on someone else all night, gawking at the muscles, making you feel envious of someone you couldn’t have. 

Your girlfriend’s attention. 

But this is all your fault, right? 

“Talk about what? How you, Ellie, made a decision to make a life altering decision without me? Yeah, okay, let’s fucking talk.” You have a bite in your voice, one Ellie has rarely heard, the sweetness diluted with her consistent need to keep you in the dark. “Fucking talk, please. I’d love to hear the bullshit excuse you’re gonna give me.” 

“Why are you making this a big deal? It’s my career, not yours.” You bite your tongue as the words leave your mouth. Instantly, you feel burned by the person who thought loved you more than anything. Even in the heat of the moment, you figured she would give you the benefit of the doubt, even when you’ve been blind sided by her teammates. All because she was too much of a coward to tell what she’s already done. “Right. Foolish of me to think we’re a team.” 

Spitefully, you throw your belongings in your tote, ignoring when she tries to grab your wrist, dodging her quickly. She tries again but stops when you tell her to. The only boundary she leaves untouched it seems. 

“We are a team.” Ellie tries to convince you, but you don’t budge. Not an inch of you believes the shit she’s spewing at you. 

“Oh! Well, that’s a surprise to me. If we’re such a team, why don’t you tell me why you won’t have sex with me….for eight months?” You raise your eyebrows at her, giving her an opportunity to speak but she stays silent like she always does. “If we’re such a team, why did you accept a job offer on another continent without even giving me the respect to tell me about it before you accepted the offer?” 

Ellie stays silent, finding the hardwood beneath her feet more interesting. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

You change into something more comfortable, slamming the bathroom door shut as you do, gathering other toiletries, different necessities you would need for the next few weeks. 

You find her sitting on the edge of the bed in tears, as much as you want to hug her and give her the comfort she probably needs, there’s no good will in your heart. As much as you love her, only the boiling anger can be found. Blistering frustration, the one someone has when their girlfriend won’t touch them, kiss them, or even warrant them the truth. 

“I love you, okay? I just need to figure some things out.” Ellie pouts, eyebrows furrowed as she says enough to get you to look at her. She sees the tears threatening to spill over, but you won’t let them fall in front of her. Never have you liked crying in front of others. Just as if she was anyone else, you would wait until you were in private to lick your wounds. “I just need some time, I just don’t know what’s happening to me.” 

But all sincerity is lost, all you see in front of you is lies and deceit. Someone backed in the corner with no way to manipulate their way out. 

“Well…figure your shit out, Els. Right now? It doesn’t seem like you do.” You grab your bags, slipping your shoes on, “I’ve had enough for now. Let me know when you grow the fuck up and let me know what’s wrong with you.” 

— 

Still, your blood boiled from last week’s exchange, the venomous words crawling up your throat like bile, as if this wasn’t what she wanted, what she started. All of this had been her idea. 

Time and time again, dismissive words found their way into your heart, making a home before you had enough time to catch them. Sure, committed and faithful, she says. Then, she does this, makes your decisions without consulting you, and scolds you for getting upset about it. You craved space, so you did what any rational person would. 

Swiftly packed your bags and flew to the other side of the country. 

The fresh feeling is still swarming through your head, and the lingering words are aimed at your heart with more impact than you could stand. When they were told, Ellie regretted them the second they left her heart-shaped lips. Yet she stands there as she analyzes your tense frame, avoiding her at all costs. 

You leave her with a soft murmur: staying at a friend’s. What you neglect to mention is that your friend lives on the other side of the country, tucked away in the safety of New York. Luckily, the nightlife is an easy distraction and does its job. 

Intentionally, the first few nights are spent drowning yourself in liquor, letting yourself be grinded on by other drunk girls until they buy you shots, walking up back in your hotel room alone — then the cycle repeats. 

The tranquility of a life forgotten, the gift of Don Julio, so like anyone else, you chase it. The drinks are free, the girls flirting with you are prettier than you’d ever seen but maybe that’s just the loneliness eating you up from the inside out. Yet, you find yourself itching to venture beneath, allow yourself to drown in someone else. Was there black lace? Possibly white or navy green boxers underneath? But you couldn’t, and you won’t. The guilt would eat you alive. 

You told yourself it was just a fight, but was it? It’s when the second thought seeped in, invading the pessimistic part of your brain and feeding into malicious tendencies. Maybe you do want this? Something new? 

Someone who wasn’t Ellie. 

The thought alone sends shivers down your spine; an agonizing dread fills you. Never had you ever been provoked to leave, but the longer the silence welcomes you with open arms, the more the affliction lingers. 

No text. No calls. No voicemails. Nothing.  

Part of you ached for resolution. Even if it meant a means to an end, you could somehow soothe the aching in your chest. On the seventh day, she reached out. 

A lazy effort of a text — couldn’t even be bothered to call. 

elsbaby: can we talk, baby? please. 

Perhaps if it had been the day after, two, three, even four — you would have the compassion to empathize. When she comes crying a week later after she spewed the most severe insults you’ve ever heard come out of her mouth? Any need to reconnect has dissipated at the drop of a hat. 

this is what you wanted. 

It shouldn’t make you spiral, but it does. You end up at a show; a rock band takes center stage at The Wolfhouse, and upcoming musicians try to make a name for themselves. Sitting at the bar, letting the vibrations of the base and the thumping of the snare drum infiltrate 

Solemnly tapping the beat of your healed boot to the beat of the drum, you take in the singer on the stage. Black raven-haired beauty with a prominent nose and beautiful lips. She made the stage her own as she worked every angle known to man. 

A firm belief is settled in your heart and everyone in there. She was born to be up there. You were too entranced, enjoying the music too much along with the cocktail in your hand, and you didn’t even notice the blonde making her way up to you. 

As soon as you felt someone next to you, the first thought in your mind was how hellbent you were to be left alone. Even if it physically put you in distress, fuck, you couldn’t even remember the last time Ellie and you went on a date. The last time she touched you, kissed you, fucked you within an inch of your life. 

It’s a pathetic, good for nothing excuse. 

The line of morality blurs whenever your eyes latch onto eyes so gray the blue almost fades into them. Gorgeous freckles scattered across her smooth cheeks like twinkling stars in the galaxy. 

Slowly, she takes your figure in, examining you up and down before smirking. She says nothing to you as she orders a neat whiskey. She hands her silver credit card to the bartender, “and whatever she wants for the rest of the night.” 

You think for a moment she’ll talk to you, but she winks before settling into a booth with four others who look oddly familiar. The rest of the night, you’re met with tranquility and the steady and skilled bump of the bass guitar. It reminded me of when you were young, ambitions were the only thing on your mind, and you were lost in the never-ending need to be someone. It’s when you still believe something is worth living for, more than beating your drum to someone else’s tune. 

You sipped on three Mexican martinis throughout the night and got lost when you walked up to the bar. The beefy, muscular blonde was there to greet you. This time, you got a clear look at her. Her rugged and toned frame shows off her commitment to the gym. 

Yet, her deep blue pools are more charming than you would like to admit. A delicate edge to her jawline pulls you in as you admire the septum ring decorating her freckled nose, the bump in her nose making you smile softly. 

You’ve always loved a girl with an intense nose for many reasons. 

Mouth-watering, luscious, bliss - are all the words coming into mind when you’re looking at her. She’s wearing as little clothing as you would expect someone who leans masculine to wear, but fuck does she know it works for her. Black leather vest worn in, eating you up from the inside out, the musky scent filled with mahogany and a dash of vanilla. 

The mysterious blonde's lack of undershirt adorns her body and steals the show. Immediately, she commands attention in every conceivable way. As mesmerizing as the raven-haired beauty appears, you would pay a lot to see her front and center on that stage. The shape of her small breasts is the real show in your mind, and the broad and toned torso gives you much to gawk at. 

Nearly, you salivate at the defined four-pack she’s sporting. A pretty enticing deep v disappears delectably into her black leather pants as if she’s a modern-day adonis but with divine feminine written all over her. Without one doubt in the world, she knows she’s the hottest piece of ass in this bar, and for some unknown reason, she’s made you her target for the night. Wined and dined you all night without saying more than a sentence to you, and it seems she’s here to collect. 

In the forefront of your mind, you believe it’s to serve some self-serving action to get off from what’s between your thighs, the sweet treat every girl has chased in this long week, but your long-term commitment tying you down like handcuffs to the post of your bed Ellie has kept you in. 

Petrifying you to your bones, you aren’t sure what to make of the thrill building up; you can’t deny the longer you look at her, the more your thighs rub together in sync with the other. 

“So—” With her tall stature, decisively, she steps forward, lips pressing against your ear with her hot breath seeping under your skin, “Are you wet because you know who I am or because you can’t stop looking at my tits?” 

“Who are you?” Your eyebrows quirked up, and you wondered why it was a factor. Was she someone you were supposed to know? Now that she said something, there was something familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. “Why would I have any idea who you are?” 

Though your pussy has a heartbeat and seems to have a mind of its own. You forget about everything else when the woman gives you a toothy grin, which is too perfect. 

“That’s cute, but see, everyone knows who I am—” Abby takes matters into her own hands and begins to nibble on the side of your neck, harshly biting and sucking lightly, taking in the taste of your skin as if she’s trying to find the perfect vein to puncture with her pointy canines. If it were the case, you’d let her suck the life out of you if you got to keep her to yourself for the night. “Don’t worry pretty girl, you’ll know by the end of the night.” 

She’s passionately driven when her skilled lips and velvet tongue continue to make a mark on you as if you are hers to own, hers to please as she sees fit. You don’t even know her name, but the raging storm of lust isolates you within her honey trap. All of it feels too finite, everlasting, even if it’s just solid concrete to stand on for the night. 

Then, you remember Ellie. The longing text sent to you, not even a call. The love of your life, or so you’d always hoped, couldn’t be bothered to call you this entire week. The fallout of an inconceivable aftermath only now did she try to reach out. 

“Tell me why you’re soaking wet, baby girl.” 

You try to push her back, but she doesn’t even move; her frame is too strong. Now, your warm, firm hand places itself on her defined abdomen, pressing against the clearly defined muscles. 

You can’t deny how flushed you’ve become. 

This time you are drooling; her thumb wipes away the liquid before she sucks it back into her mouth. Her grin is even more wicked, knowing she has you right where she wants to be. 

It’s when you notice the mirrored scorpions, one on either side, her muscular biceps littered with tattoos, and the front of her neck — practically having fuck me written all over her. 

You should leave. 

You fucking should. 

She has an appetite for something else, pulling you by the waistband of your pants, her finger securely wrapped around the belt buckle. Pelvis to pelvis, grinding against you swiftly to see how much you move, and the smile she’s wearing is satisfying enough. 

She’s always liked them needy, messy, and so damn right horny they’re putty in her extensive and capable hands. 

“I’m waiting.” Her hunger is evident in her tone. She is ready to relish her sudden craving, at least to you. 

“I-I don’t even know your name,” you confess, hoping it will steer her away from you, but it’s a pathetic attempt. 

“Abby. What else is your concern, babygirl?” Her knee sneaks between your legs, applying pressure to your cunt. 

“I—” Almost with a soft thrust of her knee, Abby pushes against your cunt, damping her leather with a fucking desirable slick she’s dying to taste. Although it’s clear you like the chase, she gives it. 

Had you had sex in the past eight months, you might have pushed away the overly cocky specimen, but it has been that long. Only making the patch in your panties grow as she teases your pussy. 

Abby’s frame blocks anyone from seeing what she’s doing to you, your skirt riding up so much she can see the rounded cheeks slipping out, the black fabric slightly exposed under the bar's dim light. The more she presses, the faster your hips move against her. 

Without a care in the world, you slid so far back, and you’re on her thigh, strong arms wrapped around you, whispering filthy nothings in your ear as you get yourself off on the stranger’s muscular body. If the bartender notices, she doesn’t mind. Pretends like you’re not even there. You’re not sure which is more embarrassing. 

“Fuck, move those hips. Just like that, yeah.” 

The high, the one you’ve wanted from your girlfriend who doesn’t even want to touch you, is so close. There’s a burn in your throat infused by sheer guilt that someone else will bring you to head. Some stranger you don’t know, one handsome stranger, yet when she pushes your panties to the side and thumbs your clit it’s so challenging to care about anyone but yourself. 

You moan her name as she touches you, a skilled touch as she lightly pinches and soothes the sensitive bud. She completely enraptured you with the light touch she had to offer. Terrifyingly so, it shouldn’t affect you the way it does. 

The look in her eyes would have sent you reeling. Her musky scent is already doing enough for you. You find yourself tangled in the webs of honeydew, suckling until you’ve had enough of the sweet sensation. 

You’re just not sure how long it’ll be until you do. 

“God, acting like you haven’t been fucked, baby. Such a dirty slut letting me do….well, whatever I want.” 

Abby uses her free, dominant hand to guide your hips at a pace she sees fit. A thrill shoots down her spine as your incessant need grows like a flower at the dawn of spring—a tiny seed that is useless unless it bears root flourishing from where it’s planted. 

“So, what’s it going to be?” Abby questions. A glimmer of assurance fills her ocean eyes. She was playfully biting your exposed shoulder blade. 

“I can get you off right here, or you can come home with me.” the incredible sensation of her pierced muscling punching your skin with a chill, the stainless-steel ball adds a new sensation you weren’t expecting. She suckles and bites, marking you the more bruises as if she’s decorative for her enjoyment. “Or both. I think someone is close. I bet you’re ready to spill on my thigh. Wanna give me every last drop like the whore you are.” 

“Your home?” you manage to spit out, trying to ignore the filth she spits, but it only brings you closer to your much-needed euphoric bliss. Abby’s efforts double over as if she’s fucked you before, bouncing her leg as as you ride her thigh, knowing exactly what you need to cum all over her. 

Typically, the thread of your orgasm wouldn’t have been so easy to pull, but it seems she’s the one who placed it there in the first place. Months of not being touched left you in the hands of this Greek god who could make you feel whatever you wished for. 

She’s cocky, confident, and the sexiest woman you’ve ever seen. Yet, the answer is still hard to find. 

“Yeah, angel, my place.” You nod, unable to make a verbal confirmation. 

“Gotta hear you say it.” Just then, the feeling that was bubbling spills over and all over her hand as she cups your cunt, thumb continuing to rub at your puffy clit. 

“Yes, Yes, Yes.” you curse, chants of ecstasy fumble from your loose lips. Carelessly, you’re focused on the intense heartbeat between your legs, your body convulsing against her. 

“What's that? M’not sure if I can wear you over your weeping cunt.” Repeatedly, Abby slaps your cunt as punishment. 

“I-I want to, fuck, shit. Oh god, yes. I want to go home with you.” Your body slumps against her as she holds up your weight, and your high fades. Still, you feel blissful against her touch. Any other worry plaguing your mind dissipates, and all you think is her and strong muscles keeping you upright. 

“Good girl,” she whispers before paying off the tab and putting the lace material pack in place. You feel the white liquid stick to you, filthy, resting against you—the once taintless fabric coated with the pleasures of your sin. Dizzy, unsteady, breathless — it’s everything you feel. 

She thrives on knowing you need her. Even if it’s for tonight, the purpose will be served. Regardless of what she needs, this will be even more of a thrill, and the only thing she uses is her hand—not even her dominant one. 

Abby moves your skirt down so your ass is covered again. “C’mon, pretty girl. let’s see how much of a slut you are." She leads you outside while she makes quick work of her phone, and suddenly, there’s a sleek black car, a Cadillac, you assume, with a driver in tow. The windows are tinted enough for you to wonder if it’s even legal. Silver rims, with a diamond emblem in the center shining so bright under the moonlight that it nearly takes your attention from the woman who has you in her grip. 

“Last chance? I can have her drive you home.” She smirks, knowing you won’t take the out that’s being so generously given. Perfect, beautiful, she thinks, eyes still dilated from you getting off on her thing and the continuous swipe of the pad of her thumb. 

It’s there. The smidge of penance you feel you’re obligated to ask for. Regardless of how amazing it feels, there’s something about the ending. This will be the end of all fuck ups; maybe, there’s still hope for the two of you if you go home. Call Ellie in the morning before the need to suppress the shame. 

But don’t you deserve this one thing for yourself? 

Everything under the sun has been for the auburn-haired beauty who has held your heart from the moment she patched up your bleeding knee. The moment a total stranger managed to win your heart, an adolescent love that knew nothing of the lesson of heartbreak or the years you chased after Ellie while she was chasing others. 

How she let her feelings hover over the friendship of years with no consequence, especially after her long-term high school girlfriend, the one whose heart she broke into a tiny million pieces. Tragically, there still stood an existing fear for you. She was just a kid, but would she move on as quickly now as she did back then? It was as if they meant nothing to her, moving from the next one as if the time spent together had been insignificant, meaningless, just an ease to pass the misery of time. 

You feared you would be the same. 

Falling under the same umbrella, but you hope you are different. There were talks of marriage and settling into the countryside once she could retire. A shared dream, you thought. Perhaps it was a foolish sin to keep close to your heart. 

Then there was Abby, a heavenly distraction from all the dread waiting for you. Everything you must pick back up eventually if you want to stay tucked into the nightlife of New York is just your dreams hanging up on the shelf, totting away with the relationship. An expiration date was labeled on the two of you, and an impending doom you could only fall through. 

Everything was always for her. 

Ellie. Ellie. Ellie. 

“What’s it going to be, princess?” She pulled you towards as she spun you around with ease, back pulled to her chest, her lips kissing your ear. All you could focus on was how strong she felt. Her strong hold bending you to her will wouldn’t be a challenge. If she wanted to, she could do whatever she liked. You are sure no isn’t a word she’s used to hearing. 

But it went further than just how she looks. 

It’s in the way she doesn’t even have to lift a finger to have you hooked on her. It entices you, thinking about how long she’d been staring at you all night. The curve of your ass in your tight, little skirt — was she staring at it? Did she think about all the ways she could fuck your perfect little hole if you would let her do everything she’d been thinking of? The way your hardened nipples poked through your mesh top. If she said anything, you could blame it on the draft, not just her sheer presence making them protrude through the fabric. 

She did no work whatsoever to make you cum, letting you use her to get yourself off. There was an ease to it. One you hadn’t experienced before. 

Here she is, using it against you again. 

“Am I coming in the car with you, or will you rub your clit, alone, wishing you’d let me fuck you in all the ways I’ve been dreaming?” Her hands sneak under the lace, pinching your nipples between her thumb and forefinger, enjoying the way your hips buck up, aching to be touched by her again. 

“Just give in, baby. I know you want to.” Her dominant hand abandons your nipple, leaving the other to tease it. While she escapes underneath your skirt once again, “So wet for me already, huh?” Harshly, she grips your cunt, a finger sliding up your slit, but she’s intentional about not letting it slip in. 

“I-I shouldn’t, shit, oh my g—” You try to think of an excuse, one good enough to convince yourself you should not go through with this. “I really shouldn’t.” 

“And?” Abby’s canines dig into the side of your neck as she teasingly bites the flesh, soothing it with a velvet tongue, making more marks on the side she hadn’t touched tonight. “Are you taken?” 

“That’s a complicated question.” Abby grins at your response with a sinister smirk. 

“Well, if she’s not making you happy, let me do it for her.” Abby tilts your jaw, forcing you to gaze at her. 

“Let me guess, no one has touched this perfect pussy in a long time. So, fucking neglected, huh?” 

“I didn’t say I had a—” 

“It doesn’t matter to me.” Your pussy dripping with shame at her words. 

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” You admit. Abby continues to torture you with the split of your slit, the two of you starting to draw attention, but you think it just excites her even more. “I haven’t felt—” 

The moment you say the words, Abby spins you around. You whine at her touch leaving your pussy, but she makes up for it slightly when her hands palm your ass. “Tell me. Look me in my eyes, baby, and tell me what you need. I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.” 

Your hands weave themselves into her golden locks. You are intertwined with the waves that disguise themselves as shimmering waterfalls. But you look down as you try to think of some excuse to leave and make yourself leave with dignity. 

Big mistake. 

The happy trail, the blonde hair travels inside her pants, leaving you in awe underneath the moonlight. Abby’s leather vest pushed off slightly, her tits still covered with black pasties. 

“Why don’t you take them off? Wanna see my pretty tits, baby?” You nod with too much eagerness. Abby chuckles. 

She watches with a smirk as you take them off. The silver, shining barbell has you moan at the sight of them—the sight of her. Smudged black eyeliner makes her appear even more irresistible, hooded eyes gazing at you; a gentle hand finds your throat, applying pressure with her thumb, constraining your breathing slightly. 

“Fuck, they are perfect.” You confess, your eyes gleaming at her pink nipples exposed before meeting with her eyes once again. 

“Yeah, they are, but they would look even better with your pretty lips around them.” 

She will not give up. 

“This is such a bad idea.” Abby knows your mind is made up, and you’ll come home with her. Even if the guilt swarms like a bee to a honey hive, it’s all the same to her. “But, God, you’re so fucking hot.” 

Your hands roam her toned, tattooed torso, the scorpions so delicious you want to outline every detail with your tongue. The thought of being strong has worn off—only the woman before you is on your mind. 

“Well, to me, it seems you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” Fingertips grazing her tits, her nipple hardening underneath you touch. “I’ll let you do whatever you want after I’m done with you. Well, if you still have the energy.” 

A grumbling of frustration leaves your lips — you aren’t sure if it’s a desperate plea, a sigh of relief, or something else entirely. 

“Like what?” You can’t stop touching her breasts, continuing to tease her pink nipple, but you meet her eyes. Abby’s positive you’ve never seen a smirk so wide. 

“What do you like?” Abby pushes your hair back, fuck me eyes looking up at her. The ones that hadn’t left from the moment you laid eyes on her. She leans down just a little so her lips are pressed against your ear, “Do you wanna fuck my ass? Want me to sit on your gorgeous face while you eat me out? Fuck me in front of the mirror and watch my face when I cum?” 

Grabbing your hair, she yanks it. Exposing the expanse of your neck. She’s grown so fond of marking. The slick between her thighs continued to blossom as you let her do whatever the hell she wanted. Like a whimpering bitch in heat, you took everything she had to offer. 

Fuck it. 

You cradle her face with her palms, smashing her lips to yours. It’s all tongue and teeth. Rough palms squeezing your ass, making you grind into her again. Your force casually lets her stumble into the car but you don’t let up. Whimpering and moaning into her mouth like there’s no tomorrow, as if this moment will slip right through your fingers. 

Her breath smells of fresh mint, her tongue casually dominates yours, staking claim to what she already believes to be hers. It’s then you realize your forever doomed because you feel the fluttering in your stomach as she growls in your mouth, animalistic — your pelvis grinding against her much more defined one. 

You pull apart for one moment, unable to take one more moment away from her. 

If you don’t get it, her tongue, her cunt, those pretty fingers decorated in silver jewelry, hell, you would settle for her pierced nipples rubbing against your clit. 

“Abby?” She stops, opening her eyes to see you. You’re even more fucked out than she is. “Yes, baby?” She hums into your mouth, the sweet sensation vibrating your entire body. 

“Let’s stop giving everyone a show and give me one.” Abby nods, the first sign of her eagerness as she opens the door for you, unable to keep her hands off you. 

“We better go before you soak my car then, hm?” She slaps your ass as she leads you in. 

— 

As she has you in tow, hand in yours leading you towards the elevator in her building, the most luxurious one you’ve seen, one so high you’re sure it’s the highest in the skyline of New York City.

 It isn’t surprising she has her own driver, or she lives in the penthouse of the building, even the plaques decorating the wall — a shrine to her evident success. Everything just…makes sense. Yet there’s a pit in your stomach, crawling and feasting. It's swarming within you, a nagging incessant fly buzzing around warning you to run. You don’t have much time to think about how horrible of an idea this is. 

Alone with someone who could easily overpower you, at the mercy of a complete stranger yet when she puts her arms around your waist, all of it seems to melt away. She’s given you no reason not to trust her. You’re just thinking too much. 

That’s all it is. 

The little voice chants in your head, trying to make excuses for yourself as to not go through with this but they dissipate when her calloused palms find home on your waist. Soothing over your delicate skin, enticing you into her impenetrable web. Everything about her intoxicates you. Making every thought vacant your head, even more so when she starts playing with the hem of your skirt. 

“Let me get you a drink.” She kisses your temple before going behind the makeshift bar in the dining room. An assortment of every liquor component known behind her. Part of you thinks she’s doing it for show, the way her biceps flex as she shakes the drink in the silver canister, pointingly making the drink you’d been ordering all night long. 

So, she had been watching you all night. You knew if she wasn’t as hot as she is, you’d be creeped out. But it’s hard to be creeped out when she’s still shirtless, the black leather vest doing very little to cover her. Any time she moves you see her pink pierced nipples, nearly making you salivate. 

With the Mexican martini in her grip, with her own in the other, you’re stuck. You didn’t think she’d actually want to have a conversation with you. Leading you out to the balcony, almost the entire view of the city before your very eyes, practically causing you to freeze in your footsteps. 

“Wow.” Unable to conceal it, you voice your immediate awe. Abby chuckles, the first sign of sincerity you’ve seen all night. Everything else only seemed as a woman trying to get a needed fuck but right now but she hasn’t even tried to even so much as kiss you. Taking small sips of her whiskey, hip touching yours as the moonlight reflects from the water to her blue eyes, nearly as vivid as the moon itself. 

“Yeah, it’s quite a view, think it’s the only thing keeping me coming back here. I’m on the road so much, it’s nice to have some stability.” Abby smiles softly, the confession tumbling from her lips before she can catch it. ”A pretty penny for me to keep it but it’s worth it.” 

“Is this your move then?” You know the martini is doing the talking for you, if not you’d be a mumbling mess unable to form one sentence that even sounds remotely coherent. Abby quirks one of her blonde eyebrows upwards but keeps her mouth shut, waiting for you to continue. “Is this what you do with everyone?” 

Abby takes a step closer to you, giving you all her attention. She plays with the chain on your neck, pulling it lightly to bring you closer to her. Carefully eyeing you up and down, smirking as she does, “Do you want the truth or do you want me to lie like I do with everyone else?” 

It’s more than you expected her to offer. A careless lie would have suited her more. If there is one thing you know for sure, Abby could get anyone she wants and she wouldn’t have brought you here if she didn’t want you to be here. 

“Are you capable of the truth? M’not sure you are.” For once, Abby is a bit silent. Carefully, she contemplates on what to say next. She isn’t sure what she should say. Usually she’s the one laying the honey traps for the swarming bees but right now? Abby feels like the control is slipping from her grip. 

She can’t have that. 

“Which one is going to make that guilt easier on your conscience?” Abby smirks as the shame fills your eyes. “It’s a girlfriend, isn’t it? It always is.” Anyone else would take two steps back, maybe even see themselves out but you want to prove a point. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” The immediate rejection of your very real girlfriend fills you with even more shame than you know what to do with. Abby chuckles at the omission, the way your voice shrieks out the statement with a sense of urgency. A desperate action to cover the truth. “Sure you don’t.” 

“I’m telling the truth!” Your voice raises as you lean into Abby, her firm hands on your waist as you both face each other. Abby nods, tongue poking through her cheek, pulling at your necklace once again. Admiring the curve in the E, the gold chain shining. It’s a pretty necklace, probably one your girlfriend gave you but Abby makes no comment of it. 

“Yeah, okay, and I hate pussy.” Abby giggles. You think it’s so cute, it shouldn’t even be funny, but it is. Just like earlier in the night, you’re so close to her, nothing as slim as a sheet of paper could fit in between the two of you. Without even thinking about it, you rest your hand on her abdomen again, her strength tangible as you feel her up once again. Truly, you’re unable to stop touching her. Every part of you wants this to happen, even if it comes back to bite you in the ass, the curiosity and your fluttering cunt can’t really think of anything else. 

“You can still walk out that door. Just say the word and my driver will take you home.” Abby whispers into the busy street beneath you, it’s so faint from the distance but the two of you can hear it. “Or you can let me slide your pretty little skirt up and let me make a slut of you, babygirl.” 

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it’s your throbbing clit, maybe it’s the lack of contact in months, most of all maybe it’s the fact Ellie took so long to reach out, but you give in. Throwing your arms around her neck, pulling her lips to yours, regardless of the possible consequence looming after you, threatening to tear apart the picture perfect life you thought you’re living. 

All of it happens in a blink of an eye. Abby’s tongue staking claim, dominating in ways you didn’t know were possible before she’s pushing your front against the balcony, placing your hand on the railing. With ease, she maneuvers your body in just the way she wants. “Gotta tell me yes pretty girl, that’s the only way this is going to start.” 

Facing the view, the buzzing city filled with nightlife and wonder, endless possibilities on your fingertips but you’re thinking about her hands. How much you want them inside you, fucking you full, or the strap in her pants you’d be rubbing against earlier. The thoughts of her slipping her cock inside you, claiming you in a way no one has in awhile. Making you feel wanted, needed, even if it was a fleeting feeling just for the night. You deserve it. Just one, stupid, decision — you were owed at least one. 

“Yes, s’what I want. You.” That’s all it takes before Abby pushes your skirt to your waist, sliding off your panties as she allows you to step out of them. 

“Are you sure?” Abby questions you. She pushes off from you, you hear her zipper being brought down as you look back at her, her vest being chucked to the lawn chair by the pool. 

Fuck. 

If she’s even half as good as she’s claiming to be, you are so fucked. 

“I’m sure.” 

Abby wraps her hands around your waist again, hands dipping under your shirt as she squeezes your breasts, teasing your hard nipples with her fingers. You sigh instantly, loving the stimulation she’s providing. You feel the barrel of her tongue piercing as she lightly sucks behind the sweet spot behind your ear, as if Abby's the one to place it there in the first place. 

“Good.” Abby teases your entrance with her cock, your body shuddering as it slides over your folds, using your slick as lubricant. Already, you’re grinding against her, just like before as she guides your hips in the pace she likes. “Do you like getting off on my cock, baby?” 

“Mhm, yeah, I do.” It’s all but a whisper. Abby still hears you speak, slapping your ass playfully, blunt fingers digging into the skin. She can’t believe anyone not wanting to touch you, not wanting to make you feel good. You’re the hottest person she’s ever fucking seen. Your ass, your tits, the moans spilling from your mouth, it’s been in her filthiest dreams. 

“What about now?” Abby lets her cock slip inside you, stretching out your walls as you take everything she has to offer. It’s been so long since you’ve been filled like this, your cunt greedily taking every inch has she slides in further and further. With a tight grip, you hold onto the railing as she thrust with her strong hips forward, your back arching so deep as she places her hand on your lower back, forcing the bend. 

“Oh…” Abby grins at your desperate moans, “You really do know how to be a good girl and take it.” Her name falls from your lips like a stuttering prayer, as if she’s the god you’re praising at the altar. With each thrust, Abby back more of her strength into, packing a powerful punch to your cunt. Pulling at the strings, already making you see stars as you take from the angle. 

“Fuck!” With no warning, Abby pulls at your hair, your body conforming to her will. She could do as she pleased and you would let her. You wonder if you even had a chance or if this is what was meant to be. Her speed grows rapidly, your stomach doing flips as she penetrates you, fucking you until you’re irrevocably spent. 

“See? You’re just a whore. My whore. Got you cock drunk for me. Don’t I?” Abby thumbs with your clit, making you see stars. Lost in the effortlessness of her actions, calloused fingers playing you like her drums set. With ease, from memory she pulled out a performance, just like she did at every show, aiming to please her audience. 

“Do you—” Abby draws circles on your puffy clit, your growl as you attempt to push through your words. “Shit, I’m—” 

“Hm?” You hear it, the sound of your cunt being fucked blending into the busy street, her hands pulling you on her cock over and over. “Didn’t think I’d take it easy on you now, did you?” 

“I just didn’t think you’d actually feel this good.” With one particular hard thrust, Abby has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your body begins to shake at her ministrations. 

“We’re just getting started but I wanna see that gorgeous face.” She pulls out of you as she sits on the nearest lawn chair, “Hop back on, babygirl, s’all yours to use.” You remove the rest of your clothes, the E chain the only thing adorning your body. 

Messily, Abby spits on her large palm, mixing your slick coating her cock making sure she’d be nice and ready for you to slide right back on. You grip her soft, freckled shoulders as she helps guide you, her blue eyes darkening as she sees the bliss written all over your face. Sinking on her cock is a sight Abby wants to replay in her mind, the high pitched moan that releases from your body is food for her soul. 

“Fuck yourself on me, babygirl. Mhm, show me how much you need it.” You lean her forehead against yours, look in her beautiful blues, feeling a strange sense of intimacy as she fucks hours brains out. Abby likes the fact you have no idea who she is but you’re riding her like no tomorrow. 

When you start bouncing on her cock, Abby loses all coherent thought. Your not so subtle bounce of your tits, she loves them so much she cranes her neck to suck on your nipples, her tongue piercing adding a new sensation, unable to stop your pussy from gushing around her. 

“Does your girlfriend fuck you like this? Mhm, I don’t think so. My sweet babygirl, so frustrated, and all you need is some good fucking cock, huh?” 

“All I need is you.” Abby thrusts her hips into you, her heavily ring hand slips her pinky ring off, the shimmering gold is placed on your clit, your body jerking from someone so cold on your throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“Since you can’t feel the little ball on my tongue right now, I suppose this will have to do.” 

“Is that so, baby? Need me?” Abby glances over your shoulder before looking back at you, before she continuously meets the roll of your hips with her thrusts. “Dirty fucking slut, so horny for your cunt to be fucked properly. It’s why you came out tonight, why you got off on my thigh at the bar, why you couldn’t stop looking at me, s’why your hands have been over me all fucking night.” 

“Abby, shit, keep talking like that.” 

“Hm, you like when I call you my dirty slut? When I tell you how needy you are for me? Bet you would have let me bend you over the bar and fucked you right there.” You’re groaning, you scream her name so loudly, Abby can’t help but grin with a sinister smirk. 

“Yes, would let you do anything.” Abby hums approvingly, the cool sensation of her diamond encrusted ring doing wonders to bring you over the edge, “Please, don’t stop. Don’t ever—” 

One particular hard thrust has Abby wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you up as your body nearly becomes deadweight, her head making home on your shoulder. It’s when she steps into the light, met with Abby’s darkness. The night she had perfectly curated to fully benefit her, the strategic planning of a rotten apple, split right down the middle when push came to shove. 

— 

Three Months Prior…

“You said you would tell her.” The frustration written all over Abby’s face, her voice only raising an octave higher. Abby has never been so disgusted with herself, stopping so low, thinking she would get chosen over the long term girlfriend. 

Stupid. 

“I know what I said. I’m telling you, I can’t.” Ellie pinches the bridge of her button nose, trying to concentrate as Abby makes no move to do anything else but continue to fuck Ellie’s cunt. 

“Oh no?” Abby slips a third finger in her pussy as she shoves her face between her slender thighs. “You don’t wanna tell her why you won’t fuck her anymore? All the light night calls with your manager are flights to come to my penthouse and get your pussy fucked out?” 

Her tongue dips into Ellie’s pussy, she flattens her pierced tongue, the cool golden ball adding stimulation to the weeping woman’s clit, her body jerking at the action. “She’s too fucking good for you.” The speed of the bigger girl’s fingers send Ellie into godspeed, flirting with another dimension as she allows Abby to play tricks on her pussy. 

The reason she comes back, no one makes her cum like she does, not even you. Abby wants more but Ellie refuses to give it, not willing to leave you even if you know what she’s been doing, all the lies she’s told in order to fuck Abby, you’d never look her way again. “She can't do this though? It’s why you keep coming back, you need my fingers stuffed in your pussy.” Abby’s fingers are reaching so deep, kissing Ellie’s cervix as she grips onto her wrist, bucking her hips up into the rockstar’s fingers. 

“Maybe I should give them to her instead. I’m sure she would be more grateful.” Abby spits sloppily on Ellie’s pussy, kitten licking her clit until she sucks it in her mouth, tongue rapidly flicking over her bundle of nerves. Abby tsks, “Selfish slut, cum on daddy’s tongue like you fucking mean it.” 

Like the greedy whore she is, Ellie squirts into Abby’s mouth and the blonde doesn’t waste a single moment, she slurps obnoxiously on Ellie’s cunt. “Fucking whore.” Her tongue flattens as he licks from her puckered hole to her clit, every drop dispersing into mouth. 

Ellie’s entire body shakes, barely registering when Ellie throws on a robe, leaving it open and she lights up a cigarette on the balcony of her bedroom. Ellie whines for Abby. 

“This was the last time.” With a flip of a switch, Abby’s tone changes, her cunt with her blonde pubes making her pussy appear even more irresistible, all she wanted was to get on her knees for Abby, repay the favor but the stoic look on her face tells her she won’t be getting anywhere near her tonight. 

She exhales a puff of smoke, her sun kissed skin reflecting off the moonlight, every defined line of muscle making her even more beautiful. “But why? Did you suddenly grow a conscience?” 

“No but I’m not interested in being someone’s side piece. I’m the main fucking show.” Abby shrugs her shoulders matter of factly, “Show yourself out, Williams.” 

— 

The memory flashes before Abby’s eyes, she’s sure it’s crossing Ellie’s mind, her worst nightmare playing in front of her. Her girlfriend, screaming her mistress’s name, as she clings onto Abby like a second life line. The look of horror in her emerald eyes, she would know your body everywhere, it’s you. 

“All mine, my pretty pussy baby, m’babygirl gonna cum soon? yeah? can you do that for me?” Every word spoken was salt in the wound, smearing in as Ellie stood frozen still. The text was deliberately sent tonight for her own demise. Using Ellie’s needy nature against her, but it seems someone else was quite needy, but fuck was she prettier. 

Ellie is a fucking idiot, Abby thought. 

Knowing how much she loved it, Abby brought her finger to her mouth, sucking on the digit, then she teases your puckered hole and you’re begging to convulse. Letting yourself be held by Abby, but your hips don’t stop moving. 

No. 

You’re fucking yourself even harder on her. 

“Mommy, please? Make me cum, fuck, need to cum all over your cock. Gonna dump her for you, please. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t stop, don’t ever stop.” With her finger only slightly slipping into your ass, you see pull on her golden waves, allowing yourself to slip into the hold of rotten intentions. Ellie has seen enough as she slams the door on her way out but you’re too fucked out to even clock it. 

“Good girl. Let it go. Mommy’s got you. Mhm, give it all to me, baby.” When she’s don’t fucking you into another dimension, Abby lays back on the chair, feeling quite satisfied with her successful plot of revenge. 

Even better, she has you. 

You fall on top of her, still stuffed full, when she finds sucking on her nipples. Your tongue toying with the barbell, pushing and pulling as Abby takes a sharp intake of breath. 

“Sorry, I've been wanting to do that all night.” You giggle lightly, Abby drawing random patterns on your exposed back. She doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt as she lets you suck on her tits, marking her porcelain skin. You’re already more of a giver than Ellie, she smiles at the thought. 

“Don’t have to apologize. Never going to say no to a beautiful girl sucking my tits.” 

She’s entirely mesmerized by you, in ways she hasn’t been before. Truthfully, she almost came from seeing you cum. Never in her life has someone brought her so close without having her pussy in their mouth. “Do you want the driver to take you home or do you want to go for round two? I’d like to fuck you on my bed, feel your dripping cunt on mine, make you forget about that pathetic girlfriend of yours.” 

You forget she’s still inside you because you sit up fully and you’re moaning, again. 

“I’d like that but let me give you another ride, yeah?” 

Unbeknownst to you, the rotten apple lays beneath you, the same E chain hidden beneath the countless chains adorning her neck but sometimes they can taste just as divine as the sweet one. Sour or sweet? That’s for you to decide. 

Bloody, intentional, reckless — Abby Anderson has brought it all. 

Showing Ellie just how sweet something rotten could really be if preserved for someone else.

reblogs and extra thots are appreciated! hope you enjoyed ♡

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[kjhbsies]

Romantic Roulette

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Football Player!Ellie x Classy fem!reader

Synopsis: Ellie, the charismatic star and team captain of the school's football team, finds herself entangled in a daring bet with her teammates. When challenged to win the affection of someone who is deemed to be "out of her league", - you, the one who everyone thinks is straight and seemingly Ellie's complete opposite - Ellie takes the wager with a huge confidence.

As Ellie made her way to pursue you, she soon realized that breaking your walls is no easy task. Unexpectedly, the more Ellie gets to know you, the more she finds your genuine charm and personality. Amid the game, Ellie discovers that her heart is no longer in it for the bet but for a chance at something real.

wordcount: 6, 473 Part II : PART III: PART IV

based on this request!

Romantic Roulette

Ellie Willams, one of the school’s most famous girls. Not only because she’s the football captain and has been distinguished as the best player in the nationals game, but because she has the looks that make every single girl drop down on their knees and worship her. 

It’s good, really. She loved the fame, the attention, and the girls that came with it. You can always see Ellie in different clubs, partying her ass out, not caring about the school tomorrow. She was always the center of attention in there, and you could spot her, always in the middle, with a ring of girls encircling her, wanting to even get a chance to just touch her hair or even her tattooed arm which everyone adores. 

Ellie always finds herself with different girls in her bed every single night. But she liked to think that it wasn’t her fault when they started catching feelings for her. Because, hey, she just wanted to have a good time, and she doesn’t really fully believe in some bullshit everyone calls love. She saw it as a waste of time, and thus she doesn’t even bother to commit to a relationship. 

Every girl flocked around her feet, wanting even to get a taste of her body, and Ellie wasn’t a saint to decline them. They wanted to please her, and who was she not to agree to that? She doesn’t even bother asking for their name because she knows that she will just forget about it by the time they are in bed. Ellie always has someone who she calls whenever she felt horny, and they would oblige immediately no matter what day or hour is it. And that’s one of the many perks that she loved about being herself. 

The locker room was loud as hell after their practice. Everyone was buzzed and energetic amidst the hot weather. Different conversations were emerging as the players were catching up with each other. 

Ellie walked out of the shower and everyone’s attention was already with her. Wearing her sports bra and grey pajamas, Ellie laughed as she heard someone talking about a funny incident last night. She sat down in one of the chairs inside while drying her auburn hair with a towel.

“Fuck it, man. You just swooped in and got to bed Atasha that fast?” Riley asked.

Ellie laughed loudly. “Sorry, dude, she’s practically begging for me all night while we’re at the club. It’s pathetic.”

“Damn, I was talking to her all night and she just immediately stood up when she saw you.” Riley shook her head, feigning her sadness.

“Sorry, dude. You should’ve seen her bouncing at my cock last night. She moans like a fucking chicken.” Ellie stood up, picked up her hoodie, and immediately wore it. Everyone hollered at her joke. Riley playfully smacked her in her arms. Ellie looked at her watch and groaned. “Ah, I still fucking have a history class.”

“Man, be thankful that Mrs. Garcia was your professor. Her tits are spilling out every time she bends over to pick up something in her bag.” Vanessa rolled her eyes before playfully moaning.

Ellie laughed again. “Sorry, dude, I was too busy looking at my seatmate.”

One of her teammates, Alex, went near them, engaging herself in the conversation after she was done showering. “Who?” She asked, drying her arms with a towel.

“You probably don’t know her but her name’s y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” Ellie answered before gathering her messenger bag and her bottled water. Honestly, Ellie doesn’t even know how she remembered your name. She doesn’t even talk to you in or outside the class that much. She can probably count on her two hands how many interactions you two had for the semester. There’s just something about you that Ellie can’t wrap her fingers. She can’t explain how much you attracted her.

The whole team fell silent and stole glances with each other before bursting out in laughter. This made Ellie look at them with a curious stare. Both of her brows rose, as she watched them holler, completely clueless.

“What’s so funny?” Ellie crinkled her nose. 

“Well, first off, we know her. She’s like everyone’s dream girl, dude. But you can’t take her out. You’re not her type.” Alex smirked.

Ellie looked at her with an offended stare. “What do you mean I’m not her type? I’m everyone’s type.” 

“Apparently, not for her. You don’t even know if she’s gay.” Alex argued.

“Everyone’s gay for me.” 

“Then try flirting with her, I’m telling you it won’t work. She’s way out of your reach.” 

“Dude,” Ellie chuckled, “No one is out of my reach. Wanna bet?” Ellie smirked, pulling up her wallet and raising it before Alex’s face. Everyone said a loud and long ‘ooh’ in unison.

Alex smiled back at her, “Ten dollars?”

“Make it twenty if I kissed her.” 

“Fifty… if you can take her to the bed. But if you can’t, then owe me those fifty dollars.”

Ellie laughed. “You think I can’t do that?” She traced the inside of her mouth with the tip of her tongue. “Fine. I’m in.” Ellie accepted the challenge.

To start, Ellie doesn’t know much about you. Only that you loved listening to Mrs. Garcia’s boring history lessons, asking so many questions about the topic, and attentively writing down everything the professor said. This is why you’re her favorite student. And also, you loved to wear those classy vintage dresses and you’re also polite as fuck. You’re the opposite of the girls that Ellie loved hooking up with. To be honest, you’re nowhere near Ellie’s type of girl but something about you that makes her drawn to your energy like she’s a moth to the fire – you. 

You’re not the type of person who would go having meaningless sex, and Ellie somewhat predicted it. Besides, her whole team was convinced that you wouldn’t budge, nor break down your defenses to Ellie. Because firstly, they believed that you’re straight. 

Yeah, believed.

Because Ellie wasn’t nearly convinced that you wouldn’t throw yourself at her feet. That you wouldn’t scramble at the sight of her. That she can’t make you question your sexuality. Because Ellie was full of herself she could do that. She always does.

“So… are you free tonight?” A girl in their class asked Ellie flirtatiously while tracing the tattoo on her arm. She sat down in front of Ellie’s table, riding up her skirt to reveal more skin on her thigh. If this were a normal day, Ellie would’ve said back at her. Probably ask her to be her date for the night, and make plans where they would fuck. But since she’s on a mission, and you could go inside the room and see the two of them, then you’d probably lose all of your interest. And Ellie doesn’t want that. 

“I’m not. Why don’t you just go back to your seat, Johanna?” Ellie sarcastically asked her.

The girl retreated and looked at Ellie with irritation. “My name’s Christine!” She said before angrily stomping her way to the front seat.

At the same time, you walked inside. You were holding your books in your right arm, and the other one was clutching the straps of your handbag. Your hair was in a simple style – the front pieces were tucked behind your hair neatly, revealing the gold hoops you were wearing. You were just wearing jeans and heels paired with a plain long sleeve that revealed your collarbones and curves that made Ellie’s breath hitch. 

Ellie’s gaze followed yours as you were making your way beside her. Ellie took the courage to flash you a charming smile while you were sitting. She doesn’t expect you to do anything, so when you flashed back a beam, Ellie almost gasped in shock.

“Hey, darling.” You greeted and Ellie didn’t know what to do. It’s like all of her flirting skills were gone after she heard your voice. Goddamnit.

Ellie cursed herself before silently shaking her head as if to gain back her consciousness. She’s starting to look like a fucking loser. “Hi… you look pretty.” She complimented you before smirking and looking up and down your body. 

“Wow,” You couldn’t help but smile shyly while gazing down. “It kinda means a lot to me since it’s from the captain of the football team.” You looked up at her, meeting her green eyes that were staring at you intently. “Though I was curious as to why you’re talking to me.” You joked. 

Ellie chuckled. “You knew me?”

You shrugged. “Of course, who doesn’t?”

“Well… I thought you weren’t paying attention to me.” 

You crinkled your nose. “I think it’s the other way around.”

Ellie’s tongue traced the insides of her cheek, before she leaned into her chair, still staring at you. “I just want to be friends.” 

You scoffed. “Friends? Didn’t you have a lot of that?”

“Well,” Ellie leaned in front of you. She rested her elbows on her knees. “Is it bad not to want you as my friend?”

“No,” You smiled. “But it was such an odd thing. You and I were seatmates ever since and you never really noticed me. So, what’s your intentions?”

Ellie’s heart jumped. She never expected you to quip back at her. “I’m just… scared to talk to you.” She shook her head, wanting to appear convincing but it’s just a lie. Yes, Ellie does notice you every time, but she never attempts to talk to you solely because she is too busy with other girls.

“You’re afraid to talk to me?” You asked back, finding her reason ridiculous because she’s Ellie Williams. Being afraid of a girl wasn’t in her vocabulary and you knew that. “There are tons of girls who want to befriend you, Williams. You and I weren’t exactly a perfect match.” You smiled at her before you looked in front of the classroom, where Mrs. Garcia was.

Ellie was left dumbfounded.

Did you just reject her?

“It should be fucking easy,” Ellie complained to her friends while walking back and forth. They’re at Dina and Ellie’s shared boarding house after all of their classes have ended.

Dina rolled her eyes, putting on her lip gloss in her bag after she was done using it. “Well, it’s good that you knew how to get rejected for once.” She then made her way to the couch, sitting beside her boyfriend, Jesse, who was lying down sideways while eating popcorn.

“Yeah, and she wasn’t supposed to do that. She was supposed to say yes and let us be friends so I could make my advancements on her like every other girl. But no, she didn’t.” Ellie groaned.

Dina glared at her friend. “Well, first off, not every girl is the same.” 

“No, Dina, I think they are.” She rolled her eyes stubbornly.

“And second, you should stop messing with her, okay? I know Y/n, and she’s a very kind girl. Playing with other’s feelings is cruel.”

Jesse nodded and hummed while putting a mouthful of popcorn in his mouth.

“And lose fifty dollars to Alex and hurt my pride? No way.” Ellie scoffed.

“What if she found that it was all a stupid bet?”

“She won’t, Dina.” 

“How can you be so sure?” Jesse asked with a muffled voice because of the food. Dina smacked him.

“Stop talking while your mouth is full!” 

“No one will tell her, okay? She can’t find out.” Ellie answered with a determined voice.

Dina shook her head at her. “You know what? Go on, do whatever you want because you won’t even listen to me. But don’t forget that I warned you not to continue this.” Dina pointed her finger at Ellie.

“Thank you, Dina. But I think I can handle myself.”  Ellie smirked at her to annoy her friend even more. 

The one place that you’ll find Ellie the most is with different clubs and bars – particularly the ones that are near the university. And the last spot that you’ll meet her is in the library. 

In her defense, what would she do here? She was not fond of reading books, not even the ones that she should use, and she hated the deafening silence in this huge room. Once, Ellie tried to come along with Dina and her friends in a group study and she just got numerous glares from the librarian that was telling her to keep quiet. Ellie never learned a thing, and she’s pretty sure that she just made a new enemy that day. So, Ellie swore not to go in here.

But today was the day that she broke that promise. 

Ellie strides into the huge library while holding a particularly dirty football that was fresh from the practice. She’s still in her sports attire. Her auburn hair was tied in a bun, and some strands of her hair were sticking onto her sweaty forehead and neck. She managed to change her shirt into a plain white one but her shorts were still the same. 

After their football practice, Ellie never got to shower and change completely because she knew that you’d be gone on campus already. So she just drenched herself in her perfume – making sure that you can’t smell even the slightest of her sweat. 

The same librarian Ellie encountered before was in charge of today. She recognized the football captain and made a face of grimace and disapproval at her looks. 

“Your shoes have mud in them.” She pointed out when Ellie passed by her.

In answer, Ellie just put on her charming smile. “Oh, I didn’t even notice.” She said before briskly walking away from her.

It was not hard for Ellie to find you. It was a Tuesday afternoon and most of the students were in their respective classes so the library wasn’t packed. Besides, how could Ellie not notice you when you were walking around the room with one of your mini-dresses?

“Hey,” ElliE came up behind you. And since you were immersed in the book you were holding, you almost jumped up in shock.

“Shit, you scared me.” You said in a hushed voice.

“Woah, you can curse?” Ellie asked, amused.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I’m not a saint.”

Ellie chuckled at your joke. “That’s shocking.”

You snorted. “Not really. So… what do you want for you to come rushing in here right after your practice?”

Ellie looked at her dirty shorts and muddy shoes. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yup. You were tainting the tiles and Ms. Loren looks like she wants to jab you at your jaw.” You looked behind her, nodding in the librarian’s direction.

“Oh… so that’s what her name is.” Ellie looked at the woman and offered a smile but she just huffed in answer. 

“Can I help you with something?” You asked again, and Ellie turned her attention to you.

“Actually… yes. I was struggling with History classes because I’m not good at memorizing ton shits and Mrs. Garcia’s quizzes were really really hard. And because of the upcoming intramurals, we’re always at the field to practice which is why I missed a quiz at her.” 

“Last meeting?”

“Yup.”

“So that’s why you’re not there.” 

Ellie nodded. “I never got to pass any of her exams, and she said that my grades would go down if I failed another quiz. So… can you tutor me?” Ellie shot you with a pleasing gaze.

You looked at her with a surprised face. “Why me?”

“You're her favorite student, and you’re always the top of the class. Please…?” Ellie gave you a puppy eyes.

You stared at her face, contemplating about everything. You were about to utter a word but there was nothing that left your mouth. 

“I’ll do anything you want. Just… text me if you made up your mind.” Ellie says. She looked at the table in front of her and found a pen. She then gently took your left hand and wrote her number on it. Your heart raced at the first physical contact with her. 

“I’ll be waiting for your text… or call.” Elli winked at you before jogging towards the door, leaving you dumbfounded.

After the class, you decided to meet up with your friends at one of your favorite cafes. Today is the perfect day to get a nice cup of warm coffee since it’s somewhat windy outside. And maybe, the drink can give you something to wake you up from looking at the number at your hand. 

“What’s that?” Abby asked at the digits in your palm, causing you to jump at her voice. Her brow rose when she looked at you. She finished placing the drinks and food on the table, and you immediately got yours and took a sip of it.

“Whose number was that? You can’t stop looking at it ever since we got in here.” Nora pointed out.

You cleared your throat. “Ellie.”

“Williams?” Abby asked curiously. “Didn’t know you two have any contact.”

“Well, I told you all before that she is my seatmate in History class. But, I don’t know, she tried talking to me yesterday.” You shrugged, picking up a piece of the red velvet cake.

“Maybe she’s playing games with you,” Nora said.

“Come on, Ellie probably thinks she’s amazing.” Abby defended.

Nora rolled her eyes, “Abby, Ellie was a notorious playgirl. She wouldn’t talk to y/n just to be friends. And besides, I don’t think that was in her vocabulary.”

“Woah,” You chuckled. “Where does this grudge from her is coming from?” You threw your hands up in the air.

“Oh, so you don’t know how many girls have been crying and fighting each other because of her? Ellie is a heartless person who doesn’t care about someone’s feelings, and everyone is still blinded by it because of how she looks. Y/n, you should be careful because I think you’re her new target.”

“You shouldn’t scare her,” Abby said.

“I’m not. I’m just stating facts.” 

You sighed, heavily while looking at your hand once again. 

Nora has a point, but you still want to give Ellie the benefit of the doubt. She wouldn’t do that to you, right?

Right?

You were walking back and forth in your small room while looking at your right palm, and holding your phone on the other. You still have a lot of free time tonight since all of your school works and backlogs were done, so, you were now contemplating whether you should call Ellie or not.

I mean, you completely understood Nora’s complaints about Ellie since the rumors aren’t new about her. Sure, she’s a Casanova, but the thing is, you won’t even dare fall in love with her – let alone be one of her girls. You were just a kind student who wanted to help her classmate in a subject where you excelled. So, what’s wrong with that?

“Ugh.” You grunted while shutting your eyes tightly. You flopped down the bed before you quickly dialed the number.

“Hello?” Ellie’s raspy voice filled your room. You immediately sat down in your bed when she answered. You can hear loud music in the background, and a few people shouting and giggling. You figured out that she’s at a party. A girl asked Ellie where she was going but you couldn’t pinpoint what she answered because it was chaotic. “Who’s this?”

“It’s… Y/n. I- I’m sorry, is this a bad timing?” 

“Oh. Oh! Y/n? Is it actually you?” She asked, voice rising with excitement. 

“Yeah, I called to ask if you want to study tonight but clearly, you had other plans now, so let’s just do it some other time.” 

Ellie managed to scramble outside the house where she was partying even though it was a real struggle. After a long day of practicing, Ellie and her teammates got invited to a house party hosted by someone she couldn’t even remember the name of. Being stressed for a whole week, Ellie wanted to have some little fun for tonight. And besides, she wants to divert her attention in the meantime, rather than looking at her phone stupidly for the rest of the day which Dina pinpointed.

Ellie immediately shook her head at what you said as if you could see her right now. “No, no, it’s fine. I was just actually hanging around there, not drinking or anything.” She lied. 

“Really?” You don’t sound convinced by her answer. “Well, I’ll text you the address of my boarding house if you’d like.”

“Yes. Please. Thank you so much. I’m on my way.” Ellie said quickly before running towards her big bike. She ended the call, put her phone on her jeans, put on her helmet, and started the engine. 

“Where the hell are you going?” Riley shouted from the window.

“To study!” Ellie exclaimed before driving away.

Riley and her teammates looked at each other with a frown and a clueless stare. “Studying?” They all asked themselves in unison.

Because there is no way, Ellie would’ve left a party. 

And in her whole life, Ellie never even studied.

So, why is she leaving a party just to study?

After Ellie said that she was outside your room, you didn’t expect that she’d show up at your windows.

“Oh, my goodness!” You exclaimed in pure shock. “What are you doing in there?” You said before opening up the sliding windows. 

Ellie threw her backpack filled with snacks on the floor before she completely entered. She managed to change her alcohol and cigarette-scented shirt into a decent one just to make herself presentable to you. 

“Your landlady says it’s past curfew so she can’t let me in, so I managed to climb through your windows.” Ellie shrugged. 

“You could fall.”

“But I didn’t, so…” Ellie flashed her charming smile before scanning your room.

It is warm and cozy. It is filled with plants and different vintage collections. Ellie noticed at least five different lamps open and candles lit to give some light in your room. It is very neat, well well-decorated, and it smells really good. 

“I didn’t know vinyl still existed.” Ellie pointed out the small drawer of yours filled with different types of vinyl. Ellie walked to it and saw a vintage turntable. “This still works?” She asked.

“Oh, yes, it’s not quite as popular as it was before, but it still works.” You grabbed one and put it on the player to show her. Ellie’s brows rose and her mouth formed into a small ‘o’ when the music started filling the air.

“Guns and Roses. Classic.” She said when she heard the familiar sound.

You looked at her with a smile on your face. “You know that band?”

“Yeah, Joel - uhh, my guardian, he used to play their songs every single day to the point that he even wanted to try to learn it on the guitar.” She smiled and turned to you. 

“You know how to play guitar, too?” 

“Oh, a little.” Ellie chuckled. “I never really had any practice, unless it’s in a summer break.” 

“That’s nice.” You nodded thoughtfully.

“You really like collecting such antique things, huh?” Ellie picked up a small bunny ceramic.

“It’s like a small hobby I’d like to do from time to time. It’s really fun going to different antique or thrift stores trying to find something you’d like. And besides, I really like older things because of their intricate designs and very pretty artworks.” You explained. “Look, all of those artworks on my wall are all thrifted, even its frames.” You pointed.

Throughout the night, you two did study. You helped Ellie with understanding all the topics that she was struggling. You were surprised with how quickly she can memorize everything, leading you down to the conclusion that Ellie is smart, she’s just lazy. 

The two of you would take breaks in between as Ellie insisted because she can’t focus if they’re going to study for hours with no breaks. You obliged. Ellie then would ask you different things about your room, asking what you’d like the most in it, and you would explain and show her those things. Ellie asked you more about yourself, wanting to get some information while at it as her mind starts plotting what you love, and where she can take you out for a date.

You were talking about the things you love, and there was that spark in your eyes that Ellie couldn’t look away from. You were so immersed in telling her something, and Ellie got lost by looking at your face.

Time passed and the two of you didn’t seem to notice. It’s like the two of you are in your bubble that no one could even interrupt. Not even the storm, or the loud buzzing of Ellie’s phone because of her friends asking where she went. Tonight, it’s just you and her. 

“I’m nervous about the quiz,” Ellie says as the two of you are walking through the hallways. 

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” You looked at her and gave a warm smile.

“I don’t know what’s with that subject, but I always fail every quiz in that class. It’s like someone has put a curse on me or something.”

“Mrs. Garcia is a great teacher, but yes, I do get that her voice is so calm which is why many students are too sleepy to pay attention to her.”

Ellie chuckled. “Yeah, the only thing that I can see in her class was her boobs whenever she bows down to get something on her bag on the floor. It’s fucking distracting.”

You laughed, harder than Ellie thought you would’ve, making her look at you with an amused smile. “Fuck yeah. I thought I wasn’t the only one who noticed.”

Ellie stared at you for a moment, she started questioning Alex in her mind saying that you are straight and making her think that there isn’t even the slightest bit in your body that is gay. Your reaction to what she said makes her think about your sexuality, Ellie wants to ask, but she doesn’t want to overstep her boundaries. 

Ellie shook her head, wanting to keep her thoughts at bay. Instead, she changed the topic. “We have a football practice at 3:00 PM and I was wondering if you want to watch it…?” She looked at you with a sheepish smile.

“Were the girls watching you play weren’t enough?” You joked.

“There aren’t. Wait, you really think that I’m a playgirl?”

“Aren’t you?” You asked back with a small frown on your face. “I don’t think that you’re a playgirl, I know you are. Everyone does. I mean, my friend doesn’t even know why you’re talking to me in the first place.” You shrugged before looking away.

Ellie was staring at you really hard, wanting you to look at her but you wouldn’t, so she sighed dejectedly. She stopped in her tracks and held your arms to also make you stop. 

“How can I prove my sincerity to you?” 

You bit your lips as your hands gripped the strap of your bag tightly. You shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Ellie. We’re not friends or anything more.”

“What if I want you to be?” 

Your gaze fell on hers with a shocked look on your face. “What?”

“I want to be your friend, Y/n.”

You stared at her for a moment, weighing your feelings. You were used to people coming up to you and asking to be their friend. After all, everyone finds you nice and adorable. You loved friendly interactions, and never once have been doubting someone’s intentions. However, there is a huge factor when Ellie is the one who’s doing it — yes, Nora is right. Her lifestyle is much different than yours, and Ellie Williams’ reputation is not quite good. Everything about you two wouldn’t even intersect, and this is all new. Everything about here seems… artificial.

But then again, you took a look in her face, and gosh… how can you resist that? 

So, you slowly nodded. Mumbling a small ‘fine’ under your breath is something that almost made Ellie want to jump in joy.

It’s playtime.

taglist: @liasxeatt @darkerstarsstuff @amberputh @bready101 @teawithnosugar @elliesaturnsoftdrink @elliewilliamgfooc

[booppooo]

play ball!

*warnings: basketballplayer!ellie, afab reader insert, oral (reader and Ellie receiving), fingering - very Toni inspired from The Wilds teehee, oui’d (trigger warning - science)

-

At first she was just your lab partner. You’d been sat next to each other by chance, in a class that had a very torn ‘fan base’ so to speak. Luckily, when Ellie grumbled, “Fuckin’ hate chem. Physics is the cooler science. Only reason why we got on the moon,” you knew this semester was going to be mildly more tolerable.

But some days you couldn’t tell if she was trying to tip-toe over the line between peers, friends, and a more intense third option. Some days it was strict - work on the lab, punch in the numbers, hand in the work to the professor. Other days, she’d crack a dad joke or two and watch you laugh. Then once in a while, you got the occasional lingering touch or gaze. Like one time, she needed to grab a ruler from the front of the class, and as she stood from her stool and slipped behind you, her palms fell to your shoulders and squeezed.

You could try to argue she was trying to build a friendship, something innocent and platonic. However…Ellie was a walking stereotype: short nails, insanely hot tattoos, carabiner hooked around her belt loop, the occasional lip bite when you giggled at her, and not to mention she was on the basketball team. Truly, all she was missing was the Nike headband and the high bun (which you were admittedly relieved she didn’t wear).

“Hey, let me ask you something,” she sat the marble at the top of the ramp you’d been working on for the better part of a week.

“Okay…” you mindlessly answered, readying the stopwatch on your phone.

She let the marble go and watched as it rolled down, not paying too much mind to Ellie studying you instead, “Do you want to come to my game this weekend?”

Color erupted in your cheeks. The marble rolled onto the floor and the stop watch ran beyond the time it needed to.

Ellie scoffed and left her seat to get the item rolling across the linoleum. Your eyes watched her every move as you formulated the right response. Hopefully the slight tremble in your hand wouldn’t give away your excitement.

“Yeah. When is it?” You swallowed, face ablaze.

Ellie threw the marble up in front of your face and caught it midair, clearly trying to pull a reaction from you, “Saturday at one. I want to see you in the stands.”

-

And see you in those fucking stands she did. You sat directly in the middle, removed from the families there to support their daughters darting across the court. You remembered Ellie briefly mentioning her adoptive dad a few times, so you scanned the seats to see who could be blessed enough to call her their child.

When the whistle from the middle of the court rang your eyes searched around for a familiar head of auburn hair. She had it tied half up half down, arms on full display and a hilariously serious look on her face. You knew that the basketball team wasn’t anything super special considering the football team got all the attention, and also the fact that you lost most of the games. According to Ellie, it was surprising you were even playing this far in the season. Regardless, the orange ball zipped around the court that was filled with shredded women squeaking their sneakers on the waxed floor. The sport was much more fast paced than you had anticipated. But the real excitement picked up when Ellie’s lengthy fingers finally got a chance at the ball. She was dribbling down the opposite end of the court, trying to get to a decent place where she could shoot or at least pass it to someone. Two players from the opposite team managed to get in front of her and block her. They had some inches on her, but surely that didn’t intimidate her. She was quickly looking for a way out.

“Shoot it Ellie! C’mom!” A man with salt and pepper hair shot from his seat. His voice boomed scarily - that must be her dad.

She flashed a look over her shoulder, smirked at him, then had just enough time to catch your spot in the stand. Thankfully she had kept her feet moving, swishing the ball through her legs and dodging possible steals. After briefly meeting your gaze, she got back to business, tricking the players out of her next move and running toward the net, completing a layup.

The man cheered for Ellie with his thick southern drawl, “That’s it! That’s my girl!” You couldn’t help but clap and cheer alongside everyone else.

As she sauntered back over to the other end of the court, she brought the end of her jersey to her brow to wipe away the sweat reflecting so deliciously from the lights - not before winking at you of course. You felt like a silly school girl when your knees pressed together. You couldn’t think of a single other thing you wanted to be doing this fine Saturday afternoon. Well…one thing of course that involved some of Ellie’s obviously skilled fingers.

Another play began and more squeaking sneakers filled the court. It was getting pretty intense, a constant back and forth for what felt like ages - supposedly the defense on both teams was excellent. Finally it seemed like someone was starting to give, unfortunately it was your schools team, because one of the players from the opposite team was desperately trying to make a shot but Ellie was just a little too good at playing defense. You were amazed at how quick she was. Sadly that wasn’t enough, because the player got by her to make the shot, but as they did you watched their elbow jab right into Ellie’s nose. In the same instant the ball went through the net, whistles were blown and people were running over to Ellie.

“That was on purpose!” Ellie’s dad spat angrily.

Through the small crowd around her you saw all the blood on her hand and even more trailing from her nose. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hands. As you watched her get ushered over to the rest of the team, you watched how Ellie’s stare fixated on the rotten player who had gotten her. When she saw her window, she took it, slipping out of the group and over to the player.

“Motherfucker!” A mixture of blood and spit splattered across the players face.

If people hadn’t stepped in sooner, a full blown fight would’ve broken out. Needless to say, Ellie was sat out for the rest of the game after seeing first aid.

-

“Let me look at that-“ you awkwardly watched Ellie’s dad hold her jaw and turn her face from side to side, “look at that goddamn bruise, she needs to be kicked off the team.” He rambled on.

“Dad, stop it-“ Ellie smacked away his hand, her eyes darting to you from behind him.

He studied her for a moment, before deciding his anger was getting him no where. He knew his daughter probably wanted to sit down and get some water, probably get a shower, too. He sighed, “Well, I’m glad you stuck up for yourself. Good work,” he brought her in for a hug and patted her on the back, “proud of you kiddo. Love you, see you soon.”

You tried your best to hold back an admirable giggle as he turned and passed by you, tilting his head and briefly greeting you with a, “Howdy.”

So you greeted Ellie with the same thing, smiling widely.

“Texas, my dad is from Texas - oh shut up.” Ellie shoved your shoulder playfully.

Now you got to see the bruising on her right eye, there was a bandage across the bridge of her pretty nose hiding the scratch. Thinking back on it, she was pretty hot to watch when she was angry. Now she had something to show for it, so every time you looked at her the scene would replay in your head.

You bit your lip shyly, “You’re uh, you’re alright.” You wished you had researched the sport a little more so you had something to actually talk about.

“Mm - really?”

“Yeah.”

Ellie ran her tongue across her teeth, “Well, I’m glad you think so. Maybe you can tell me just how alright I am tonight when I pick you up.”

How was she so clever? So quick?

Once again she had you fighting for words, “Sure, uhm…what time?”

“You have anything going on at eight?” You shook your head, “Now you do. I’ll see you then.”

Some of that southern charm must’ve rubbed off onto her over the years.

-

“Oh fuck! Ellie-“

Your fingers were deep in her hair not sure where else to grab in the backseat of her car. Between your moans, the faint music and the absolutely sinful squelching being born from Ellie being knuckle deep in you, it was hard to orient yourself at all. Her tongue sucked and danced on your clit like it was part of her daily routine - and thankfully she did because it had your limbs turning to jelly. Eventually your greed got the best of you because your hips began to grind back against her tongue.

“Shiiiit…”

You pushed her head closer to you, shamelessly using her mouth as a sex toy, because that’s what it essentially was. And she didn’t object either, moaning and panting into your cunt like she was the one with three fingers deep. Each roll of your hips pushed you closer to your climax, adding a whine or pout to your moans.

It seemed though, Ellie had different plans, because her free arm came down on your hips, holding you steady in place. As she pumped into you, her other fingers attacked your clit with a quick waving motion, sending stimulation to you at an almost ungodly pace.

Through your quickened breaths you swore, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck-!”

“Uh huh, c’mom give it to me.” Ellie purred, watching your cunt closely.

Your brain had omitted anything that wasn’t Ellie and your orgasm, leaving you to just moan out a warning that was your approaching orgasm. And she knew, especially when you started clamping down on her fingers, hips jolting, and the borderline scream coming from your lips.

“That’s it, cum on my fingers.”

You began to notice the way Ellie was able to get you do just about anything. She wasn’t big on asking, more on instructing. And you loved it. Especially when she hit you with:

“Okay, my turn.”

You weren’t given much time to come back to earth after the orgasm that just hit you, but the sound of Ellie’s zipper sobered you up pretty quick. As she shimmied off her jeans, you eyed her hips poking out, and the little copper happy trail leading below her black boxers. Drool was pooling under your tongue. She reached for the hem of her boxers, but you pushed her hands aside, taking it upon yourself to rip them down her legs yourself. Your palms must’ve been cold from the way goosebumps littered her thighs as your palms ran down the inners of them; or she was just that excited. She sucked in air through her teeth at the sensation of your lips exploring her hips, licking along her happy trail, feeling the muscle tighten beneath it. Ellie was really beginning to feel the heat building in thr backseat now. There was the undeniable scent of her car fresher, weed, and pussy. Bath and Body Works should take notes.

Starting with your fingers, you dipped into the warm wetness of her cunt and spread her slick, licking off what was left. You didn’t waste another second and let your tongue and lips latch onto her clit, making her moan lowly, leaving you to grumble one of your own. Testing the waters you paid attention to what made her moan and what didn’t, continuing to tease the idea of slipping in a finger or two to see how she would react. Every time your finger circled near her entrance she pushed closer to you and eventually let her fingers snaked into your hair. With you sucking on her clit, she welcomed your middle finger, and you enjoyed how she felt around you.

“Yes-!” She encouraged.

As you massaged her cunt, you marveled in the sounds that she made. You noticed she tried to put on a stoic front, but after you got in a second finger it seemed whatever face she was trying to put on dropped into something that was akin to a porn star. She seemed borderline primal and desperate, grinding down on your fingers and wanting you to get messy with your tongue.

“Faster babe..”

And when you obeyed, her head tilted back gloriously and she wasn’t afraid to let loose. She pushed into you as much as you pumped into her with your burning wrist and jaw. As much as your muscles were begging for relief and a break, your mind was taking snapshots of her manhandling your head and groaning with half-lidded eyes. Not to mention the sultry-ness of her voice:

“Just like that.”

“Right there babe.”

“Fuck - that feels good.”

If you could get those words on loop in your head forever you would. That - or the sensation of her beginning to tighten around your fingers and roll her hips harder onto your face.

She struggled to catch her breath and do you the decency of warning you: “Cumming, I’m cumming I’m cumming-!”

Her thighs squeezed on each side of your head and she took fistfuls of your hair. Her eyes squeezed closed, jaw dropping and a deeply satisfied, “Fuuuck,” rolling off her tongue. A new flavor of sweetness greeted your tastebuds and you caught yourself feverishly lapping at her like a fucking animal. And you would’ve until the sun came up, but Ellie began to whimper softly and squirm away from your advances.

So you let up, gently removing yourself from her and happily licking your fingers clean. She had one hand cradling the back of her head with her eyes closed, desperate to catch her breath. Under her breath she swore and ran her hands down her face to let herself know she was still human. Once your eyes met, you grew shy again, immediately taken aback by how sexily intimidating Ellie’s stare could be - even when she looked fucked out.

She took you gently by the jaw and led you toward her face to envelope you in a sloppy, wet kiss. You knew her goal was to taste herself, and you hoped she did, especially when she hummed as your tongues swirled. It was enough to have you pushing her back against the seats again…but you refrained. Pulling away from the kiss left you breathless.

Ellie looked into your eyes for a beat, “Wanna smoke?”

“With my lab partner? Sure.”

“Ouch.”

You both threw back on your pants and made your way into the front seats to spark up once more. How were you supposed to face her in class now?

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: While shooting a movie with the infamous Wanda Maximoff, you start to fall for her. The lines between reality and acting blur together as you enter into a publicity stunt relationship, and you try to save your heart from breaking.

content warnings: angst, fake relationship, but a happy ending! Also TW for religious trauma, specifically homophobia within the Mormon church.

word count: 6.8k+

masterlist

Original Request

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Reality

The first time you lay eyes on Wanda Maximoff, you knew your life would never be the same. Her green eyes pierced through the chaotic atmosphere of the audition room, a group of people you assumed were her team surrounding her as she walked into the larger room off to the side, where the actual auditions were being held. 

You watched her go until her silky auburn hair faded from view, the door shutting firmly behind her, and sucked in a large breath. It felt like the air was simultaneously lighter without her heady presence, and thicker at her absence. You made up your mind then and there to try your very best at this audition. 

Deep down, you knew that the privilege of knowing Wanda Maximoff would be the insurmountable victory of your life, and you steeled yourself. 

“Damn,” Someone said, and you frowned as the room erupted in nervous laughter. Looking around, some people seemed starstruck, while others looked absolutely terrified. You understood why, nobody had told you that one of the most famous actresses in the country would be showing up at the final round of auditions today, but you could understand the reasons behind their secrecy. 

Mentally running over the lines you knew you’d forget the second you were in the presence of the most exquisite woman you’d ever seen, you manually slowed your heartbeat, breathing in slowly while you calmed your nerves. 

You couldn’t fuck this up. 

Someone called your name, and you stood, the movement feeling almost robotic. Blinking a few times, and shaking off the stubborn nerves that raced through your already sleep-deprived body, you smiled slightly at the people around you. They all offered small, encouraging smiles, but you could see the hunger behind their eyes. The need to succeed, to be better than everyone else in the room. The need to win. 

Shivering again, you reminded yourself that although it was a competition, it didn’t matter if you didn’t get the role. As long as you tried your best, that was enough. Then you remembered the woman waiting on the other side of the door, and a fierce wave of something rushed through you. 

Walking into the room, you kept your back straight, hoping to at least act like you were confident. That crumbled the moment you locked eyes with Wanda, the green of her irises imprinting themselves into your mind as you formed an awkward smile. 

“Alright,” A mousy-looking man clapped his hands, the illustrious eyes that had sought yours now focused solely on him. You never wanted to kill a man as desperately as you did now. Instead, you turned your head, shaking the cobwebs of gay panic from your mind as you forced yourself to focus. 

“We’re going to start with page twelve, scene two. A seat has been provided,” The man gestured towards the front of the room, and you glanced over. A single booth, about six feet long, was sitting innocently in a spotlight. It reminded you of your childhood, images of hot sticky Sundays clawing their way to the surface as you swallowed harshly. 

Missing the glance Wanda sent your way, her brows furrowing slightly at the distant look in your eyes, you jerkily made your way toward the seat. 

The words of a forgotten Sunday worship wormed their way towards your ears, murmuring things like ‘sinner’, ‘abomination’, and ‘unworthy’. The words suffocated you, visions of a church meeting hall flashing before you as you sat down on the familiar seat. 

Your fingers grazed the fabric, and you realized that they must have acquired an actual seat from some random Mormon church, and you fought the bile that rose. 

“I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself,” A soft voice filtered through your thoughts, clearing your mind instantly. 

Looking up, your face flushing, you could only stare silently as Wanda sat beside you. Embarrassment welled up, knowing that the woman had probably witnessed you get lost in the past, but she gave no indication that she’d seen anything, holding out her hand. 

“I’m Wanda,” She said, a genuine smile brightening her face. Her eyes searched yours, seemingly imploring you to take her hand, and you did. 

You were happy that you didn’t stutter as you gave her your name, surprised when Wanda repeated it back to you, the syllables forming into something beautiful when she spoke. 

“Be honest,” She leaned in, eyes sparkling with your hand still firmly grasped in hers. “How nervous are you?”

The faint scent of vanilla encircled you, a haze threatening to pull your focus away, but you remained steadfast. Not wanting to miss a single moment you had with the captivating enigma that was Wanda Maximoff. 

“I accidentally bought myself two coffees this morning,” You confided, smiling slightly at Wanda’s confused expression. “I had forgotten I’d ordered the first one, so I waited in line again to order my latte, only to realize halfway through the second cup that I’d been so anxious I practically blacked out while ordering the first time around.” 

Whatever reaction you’d been expecting, the tinkling laughter that erupted from the woman seated mere inches beside you was better than anything you could’ve imagined. Her eyes crinkled, one hand coming up to cover her mouth, and you fought to urge to lower it, wanting to see her full face while she was in the throes of happiness. 

“Alright ladies,” A voice rang out, shocking you out of the comfortable lull you’d found yourself in. “Are we ready to begin?”

The mousy man was now seated at a long table, three people seated on either side of him, their eyes locked on you and Wanda. You swallowed harshly, suddenly remembering that this was an audition, and you reluctantly removed your hand from Wanda’s. 

Glancing over, Wanda nodded, her eyes still locked on yours. They were warm, as if to say, ‘Don’t rush, take your time,’ and you smiled. 

You could totally do this.

—

“When did you know?” Wanda’s voice is frail, and you bite your lip. 

“Know what?”

“That you’re…” She trailed off, her eyes distant, a lost look in them. They met yours, green eyes pleading with you to say the words she couldn’t.

“That I’m gay?” You make sure to make your tone extra sarcastic, sending a quick smile her way, and nudging your shoulder gently against hers. You leave it there, finding comfort in the warmth that shoots through your body at the minimal contact. 

She lets out a breath of air, inhaling shakily as she quickly glances away from you. “Yes… that.”

“It’s not a dirty word, you know,” You say, tilting your head slightly, hoping to catch her eye. She refuses, fingers picking at the seat between you as her eyes remain locked somewhere in the distance. 

Fighting the urge to sigh, you let your own eyes glaze over, a faraway look appearing in them as you breathe in deeply. It’s a weary sound, and you close your eyes briefly as you exhale, preparing your answer. 

“I think I’ve always known,” You begin, resting a hand on the seat, your pinky centimeters from hers. Green eyes lock onto it, her breaths shortening further, her silence stretching on. 

“The first time I realized that I was…” You search for the word, shaking your head slightly, “Different,” The word tastes like ash in your mouth, and you can’t help the slight wobble in your voice. 

Clearing your throat, you continue, “I was in second grade, and for some reason, I really wanted the approval of my new teacher,” You glance awkwardly over towards Wanda, smirking, “I’ve always liked older women.”

Wanda’s fingers inch closer to yours, the tension palpable. You look away, needing to get the next words out, but knowing you wouldn’t be able to if you were staring into those all-knowing green eyes of hers. 

“I went home that night, and I prayed,” The words get stuck in your throat, and you realize with rising horror that actual tears are making their way into your eyes. You push onwards, Wanda’s hand inching closer to yours. 

“I prayed that I would wake up the next morning and be able to like boys the same way that I liked girls. I prayed and asked God why he would do this to me, why he would make me like this if he hated it so much.” Your voice breaks, a tear escaping down your cheek. “And it didn’t work.”

At those words, the dam finally breaks, and your shoulders heave with silent sobs as Wanda’s hand finally encircles your own. You can feel her other hand hesitantly rising, moving towards your shoulder before stopping, unsure if she should touch you or not. 

Eventually, after a pathetic-sounding sniffle escapes you, her other hand wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in. You bury your head into her shoulder, fingers gripping tightly onto the back of her shirt as the lines between acting and reality blur together into one giant, jumbled mess. 

“And, scene!” A voice calls out, and you force the tears back, manually slowing your breathing to gain some semblance of control over yourself. You tell yourself that you’re imagining the hesitant way that Wanda pulls away from you and blink in surprise when her hand remains on your back, gently rubbing soothing circles as you breathe deeply. 

“That was…” The man can’t seem to get the words out, his eyes shining. “Phenomenal.” 

His voice is breathy, filled with awe, and you can’t help the surprised look that takes over your face. Really, all it took was a minor mental breakdown and your acting was phenomenal? You should try that more often. 

The rest of the members at the table seem to agree, and the mousy-looking man makes his way toward you and Wanda, a wide smile on his face. 

“Congratulations!” He all but exclaims, and you feel disconnected from your body as he continues, “You’re hired!”

The man goes on to explain that Wanda will be playing the other main character, the Bishop’s wife, while you play the lead role in the movie. You know the character well, you’ve played her both in real life and now in auditions, but you can’t quite believe the words that are spewing rapidly from the man’s mouth. 

You play a 19-year-old girl, living with her elderly Grandmother after her parents had kicked her out for coming out as a lesbian. Your character only attends church with her resolutely Mormon Grandmother because she is scared to lose the only person in her life who will still give her a home. The man explains that your character falls in love with the new Bishop’s young wife, having just moved from Utah to your state, as Wanda’s character navigates her new realization of her sexuality while also falling in love with your character. 

It’s a beautiful story, one you’d read over and over again before deciding to audition. The themes of religious trauma, grief, and romance all swirled into one complicated story, but one detail, in particular, stood out in your disconnected brain. 

Fuck. 

Wanda’s character is the romantic interest of your character. 

What are you supposed to do now?

—

The director, a brunette woman with a seemingly permanent calming aura, had instructed you and Wanda to get to know each other better during the two months before shooting. She’d said something about how actors who were friends in real life had better chemistry on screen, but you’d blacked out after the word ‘chemistry’ had fallen from her lips. 

Wanda had laughed, seeing the slight flush appear on your face, her hands gentle as she guided you towards her car, “Seeing as we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well for the next few months, why don’t we start with a tour of my home?”

She’d persuaded you further with the promise of a home-cooked meal, and you simply couldn’t refuse. You were a recent college graduate, living in a shitty studio apartment you could barely afford, surviving off of the bare essentials. A tour of an actual house with an actual meal sounded like a pretty sweet deal to you. 

Plus, Wanda would be there, so everything would be perfect. 

The next two months were wonderful, the text messages between you two were constant and the weekends reserved solely for getting to know each other better. You quickly learned that Wanda absolutely loved cooking, but she adored gardening. 

The two of you had started doing puzzles together, one particularly colorful one catching your eye as you went shopping with Wanda, and she’d insisted on buying it for you. So, it became a tradition. Every Saturday, excluding the ones when Wanda had prior plans seeing as she was a famous actress with events to attend, the two of you would share a bottle or two of wine and assemble a puzzle while conversation flowed like water between you. 

The only thing you dreaded during these two months was Sundays. The director had asked you two to attend a Mormon church, stating it as research for the upcoming movie. You didn’t have the heart to explain why the mere thought of stepping foot inside a church again sent uncomfortable, conflicting tendrils of grief and self-loathing crawling up your spine, so you simply agreed. 

Wanda knew. She somehow always knew when something was wrong. She’d helped you pick out an outfit, a modest dress with comfortable shoes, and in return, you’d helped her find a dress in her massive closet that actually fit the impossible Mormon standards. 

You were silent during the car ride to the church, your eyes locked on the landscape moving quickly outside your window. Wanda didn’t have to ask if you were alright, she saw the distant look in your eyes and knew that you were trapped in memories, unable to escape. 

A soft hand enveloped yours, fingers tight around your hands as you felt vanilla pierce the heavy weight of the scenes playing behind your eyes. Your brain cleared briefly, overwhelming gratitude welling up inside you at the gentle show of support, and your fingers squeezed back. 

After that, you felt more present. Even when you walked through the doors, a false smile glued to your lips as you led the way towards a seat covered in that same scratchy fabric from the audition room, you didn’t sink beneath the waves of past memories threatening to drown you. 

The fabric didn’t seem quite as scratchy now with Wanda beside you, her pinky mere inches from yours. You remembered the audition room, the memory overlapping with the past ones that strained to reach the surface of your thoughts. The new memory suffocated the old, your breaths coming easier while Wanda’s steady presence overcame your senses. 

Someone began speaking at the podium, your body jolting as you realized it was a prayer. Wanda’s eyes were sharp, taking in everything, assessing everything. You showed her how to fold her arms, bowing your head slightly. The last thing you wanted was to stand out. 

If you stood out from the rest, you would never be fully accepted. You couldn’t go through that again. 

Wanda seemed to see the desperation in your eyes and copied your movements. Her green eyes didn’t close, watching you as your eyes stared blankly at the booth in front of you. 

“Dear Heavenly Father, we thank thee…” You couldn’t hear the rest of the prayer, the familiar phrase ringing around your head until the cacophony of noise threatened to overwhelm you. 

A pinky touched yours, Wanda’s body resting fully against you as you sat side-by-side in a little booth. The man was still speaking, your ears numb to his words, your senses locked into only one person. 

Wanda. 

Her finger wrapped around yours, an awkward version of a pinky promise, an act so juvenile yet innocent and pure. This memory overlapped with your past, multiple prayers you’d heard about ‘giving strength to those who stray’, and ‘loving everyone no matter what their sins may be’, being smothered by the simple touch of a pinky. 

You longed for more. 

The rest of the meeting passed quickly, your hands interlocked in the seat between you, hidden beneath the folds of your skirts. You were numb to the words spoken at the podium, having learned to block them out a long time ago. You let yourself remember, an unexplainable grief rising within you as you remembered what it felt like to truly believe in something, before the same people you’d once felt seemingly unconditional love from, turned on you with knowing eyes and quiet whispers. 

All because you liked a girl. 

Silent tears fell, your sniffles quiet from years of practice. Wanda’s fingers tightened, her eyes warm but not overwhelming. You let the memories wash over you, reliving them and then releasing them, letting comforting waves of vanilla envelop and smother them like a warm blanket. You finally smiled, right near the end of the meeting, your eyes no longer dull.

Wanda held your hand the entire time. 

—

The rest of the cast was amazing, friendly faces surrounded you, and laughter never ending as you mingled before the first table read. There was an assortment of finger sandwiches on a table near the back of the room, and you didn’t stray far from it. 

It’s not that you were hiding, per se, but rather surveying the room while you tried to control a slight panic rising within you. Yeah, scratch that, you were totally hiding. 

“Hey,” Your eyes raise from the sandwich you’d been inspecting, meeting a familiar shade of green. You can’t help the comfortable smile that erupts on your face as Wanda makes her way over to you. 

“Not a fan of mingling, I take it?”

“I just,” You gesture helplessly, noticing the lingering looks from some of the cast, probably wondering why Wanda was standing near you. “I don’t know anyone. And I feel really awkward.”

Wanda’s fingers interlock with yours, pulling your reluctant frame away from the table. “Well,” She reasons, walking towards a group of people, “Let’s introduce you then.”

—

You’re quite proud of yourself, having not stuttered over a single line of yours during the first table read. You could tell that some of your castmates were surprised that you were playing the lead character, as you weren’t a well-known name in the industry. 

The cast was stacked with A-list actors, Wanda being one of them. In all honesty, you were terrified, but Wanda’s chair was next to yours, and her pinky never strayed far from your own, so it wasn’t all that bad. 

Positioning her body until it was slightly facing yours, Wanda leaned in after the director announced a short break, the rest of the cast standing up to mingle, their voices chattering about the script. 

“You did exceptionally well.” The words were whispered in your ear, meant for you and you alone. Something warm burned in your chest, and you smiled proudly as you tilted your face toward Wanda. 

Your breath caught, her lips inches from yours. She didn’t make any moves to lean back, and you fought the urge to count her freckles as her soft breaths hit your face. 

“A glowing review,” You managed, a smirk making its way onto your face at Wanda’s smile. “I’m flattered.”

Wanda laughed, finally leaning back as she did so, and you let out a sharp exhale. One of her hands gripped your forearm as she chuckled, one hand covering her mouth as she did so. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” You said, blinking at the suddenness of your words. 

Wanda tilted her head, brows furrowing slightly. She doesn’t have to speak, her silent question stretching out in the silence between you two. 

“I just mean, you cover your face when you laugh,” You gesture towards her, ducking your head as your mouth keeps talking. “You shouldn’t, you’re beautiful when you laugh.”

The statement feels awkward coming from your lips, the compliment suddenly sounding too flirty, too personal, just too much. But then, Wanda’s smiling again, her eyes sparkling as she practically beams at you, and your words don’t feel unnatural anymore. 

“Well, I…” She doesn’t continue, her eyes searching yours as her eyes continue to sparkle at you.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Wanda Maximoff was rendered speechless,” The joke spills out, the silence threatening to turn uncomfortable as you stare at each other. You place a hand over your heart mockingly, “I’m truly honored to witness this momentous occasion.” 

Wanda laughs, and this time her hands stay away from her face, your eyes eagerly taking in her expression. You were right, she is beautiful when she laughs. 

“Alright, sweet talker,” She stands, still smiling widely at you as she pulls you from your seat. “Let's go mingle with our new friends.”

You socialize, words falling easily from your lips as you get to know the rest of your cast. Plenty of people congratulate you on landing the role, some offering encouraging words and others offering tips. You enjoy it all, auburn hair and sparkling eyes never leaving your sight for too long. 

It’s not as awkward as before, not with Wanda by your side.

—

“Your agents are geniuses,” Angela, the woman playing your on-screen grandmother jokes, relaxing against the booth. Your fingers play with the scratchy fabric, standing behind the seat with Wanda leaning next to you. 

You’ve been shooting the movie for a few weeks now, and this is one of the longer days. You’re shooting on the set of a reconstructed Mormon church, and you have to admit that the set designers did their research. The main hall is eerily similar to the one you remember growing up in. 

There’s a multitude of extras milling about, the day long and exhausting for everyone, since the scenes you're shooting take place in a packed church meeting. You’ve finally gotten a break, and Wanda has come over to talk with you, as she usually did. 

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks, and Angela laughs. It's a throaty sound, and your lips turn up of their own accord as she braces herself against the seat. 

Someone shouts about the lighting, and you’re momentarily distracted while Angela wipes her eyes slightly. She waves off the young makeup artist, dabbing at the concealer beneath her eyes. 

The extras give you and Wanda a wide berth, and you’re unsure if they were instructed to do so, or if they were just intimidated by the lead actresses of the movie. Either way, you’re grateful for the space. 

“Don’t worry,” Angela says, leaning in and drawing your attention back to her. “You don’t have to play dumb with me, everyone knows that you two are dating as a publicity stunt.”

You and Wanda glance at each other briefly, shock evident on both your faces as Angela continues, “It’s a genius idea, truly. It's great for promoting the movie, and it gets people wondering if your on-screen chemistry is as good as your real-life chemistry.”

Real-life chemistry? What the fuck? 

Wanda must be thinking the same thing, because her eyes are slightly wide as she stares at you. Then, they change slightly, a calculating look in them as a multitude of makeup artists swoop in, surrounding the two of you as they prepare you for the upcoming scene. 

You catch Angela’s eye, and she pretends to zip her lips shut. Offering a wobbly smile, you walk almost robotically towards the front of the room as the director calls for places, your mind racing. Wanda brushes past you, her hand grazing your waist as she moves to sit behind the podium, where you’ll be standing for the next scene. 

Taking a deep breath, you push all thoughts of Wanda and fake relationships and chemistry out of your mind. There will be plenty of time to panic later, now, you have to focus on the next scene and try not to mess up badly. 

It’s utter chaos when they have to reset a scene with as many people as there are in the room, and you really want this day to be over with. Besides, there’s a bottle of vodka and an evening of overthinking waiting for you. 

—

Your publicist, a woman named Annie, smiles encouragingly at you while you sit in shock. 

“I mean, just think about it,” Another woman speaks, and you turn your wide eyes towards her. “It’s the perfect opportunity to sell this movie to the public, and the two of you are already good friends.”

At that, Wanda glances over at you. 

You blink. It’s slightly unfair how regal she looks, sitting elegantly in her chair in this small, suffocating room. Your brain is already slightly frazzled from a long day of shooting, and you struggle to process the request of Wanda’s publicist. 

“Let me make sure I’m understanding correctly,” Wanda interjects, sensing that you’re off-kilter at the moment. Her voice soothes you, and you remind yourself to breathe as she continues, “You want us to pretend to be in a relationship, as a publicity stunt?”

Well, when she puts it that way, it doesn’t seem so difficult. But then again, you’d agree with anything Wanda says, so maybe you’re biased. 

“Exactly,” Annie says, Wanda’s publicist nodding. “This movie is already projected to hit the box office, and with this, there will be even more demographics watching. This pretend relationship will help build anticipation for the movie, especially since the whole internet ships you two already.”

Now that was a new piece of information, and by the look on Wanda’s face, she was also hearing this for the first time.

“Do they really,” Wanda’s voice is slightly faint, her posture slumping slightly as she leans back in her chair. She seems to process, her eyes unfocusing slightly, so you ask a question of your own.

“Which demographics are we talking about, exactly?”

Annie smiles, sharing a look with Wanda’s publicist. “The younger generation for sure, since you’re already starting to trend on popular social media apps, as well as the LBGTQ+ community. They’re always looking for a new queer couple to ship.”

You try not to bristle, wanting to remind Annie that you’re a part of that community, but before you can get the words out, Wanda interjects. 

“Can we think about it?” Her words are soft, and when you glance over towards her, the green of her eyes doesn’t lock on yours like usual. Instead, they’re focused on her publicist, with a slightly firm look in them.

The woman concedes, and Wanda stands quickly. Before you’re able to get to your own feet, feeling slightly shaky as you do so, she’s already out the door.

—

After a few days of awkwardness, which you absolutely hate, you and Wanda agree that the publicity stunt is a smart move. 

It’s awkward at first, especially since you’re overthinking every interaction you have with her. You shy away from her touch, suddenly questioning if she’s touching you for the publicity stunt or because she actually wants to. 

After a couple of days of this, you’re in your trailer, watching some stupid reality show to try and get your mind off of the uncomfortable day you’d had on set when three light knocks sound at your door. 

“I know you’re in there, I can hear the TV.” Wanda’s voice sounds through the door, and you curse. It’s not that you were avoiding her… that’s a lie. You were totally avoiding her, and your acting in scenes with her had taken a hit because of it. 

“Just let me in, we need to talk,” There’s a pause, then, “Please?”

You can’t say no to that.

Turning the TV off, you make your way to the door and open it to reveal a very tired-looking Wanda. Her auburn hair seems slightly duller than usual, the sparkle in her green eyes no longer there. 

“Um,” Wanda pushes past you, sitting on your couch as you shut the door behind her. “What did you want to talk about?”

The question feels awkward, and you know that you’re avoiding the proverbial elephant in the room. Wanda gives you a look, and you sigh. 

Sitting down on the couch next to her, you leave plenty of space between your body and hers, and you try not to think about the way her pinky twitches at the distance. 

“Why are you avoiding me?” Wanda asks, and you blink. You hadn’t expected her to be so straightforward, but it seemed that she had no more patience for hesitancy. 

“I’m just,” You trail off, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not sure where reality ends and this fake relationship begins. And I’m not sure about what’s real and what’s not.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything for a long while, but the silence doesn’t feel awkward anymore. Instead, it feels heavy and filled with a multitude of unspoken feelings that you wish you had the bravery to share.

“So this,” Wanda reaches out her hand slowly, as if not to spook you. It stops, halfway between your body and hers, resting innocently on your couch. Her pinky stretches out further, and you let your hand slide along the cushion until your pinkies interlock. 

You don’t imagine the relieved sigh that escapes Wanda’s lips.

“You’re not sure if this is real or not?” The question rings around your head, and you shake your head because no, you can’t tell.

“Let me tell you how I see it,” Wanda says, her voice soft. You look up, meeting those pretty green eyes for the first time all day. She smiles, and they crinkle at the edges. You’ve missed seeing that. 

“When we’re alone, or on set, everything is real,” Her voice is firm, laced with honesty. “When we’re in public, it’s still real, just dramatized for the camera. Does that make sense?”

You nod, the pieces finally clicking together in your brain. You don’t say anything, and you don’t have to. All you do is squeeze Wanda’s fingers tighter and move closer to her on the couch. 

Turning the TV back on, you rest against her, your head resting on her shoulder. When you glance up at her, the green in her eyes sparkles back at you. Something settles deep within you, and Wanda rests her cheek against the top of your head.

—

You stare blankly at the script in front of you. The pages flutter slightly as a gentle breeze sweeps through the actor’s tent. Sounds of chatter flow around you, but you remain unresponsive, the words on the page swimming off and distorting as you try not to panic. 

A sinking feeling makes its way into your chest, the reality of the scene you’re about to shoot finally setting in. 

You have to kiss Wanda Maximoff. 

Sure, it’s an on-screen kiss, it’s not like it means anything. Right?

But there’s a small part of you that longs for it to be real. Some stupid part of you that you try to get rid of that wishes it meant something to her. Because it sure as hell means something to you. 

But it won’t mean anything to her. It’s a fake kiss. One meant for the screen. You build your walls, surrounding your heart with impenetrable stone as a calm iciness envelops you. 

It doesn’t mean anything. 

—

Her lips are inches from yours, and you can’t stop looking at them. They’re plump, and slightly glistening from a light coating of lip gloss. There’s a red undertone, and you find yourself yearning to discover what she tastes like. 

You hesitate. 

“Cut.” The director calls, and you blink, stepping away from Wanda. 

“Remember,” The director begins, and you focus all your attention on her, ignoring the concerned look Wanda is sending your way. “Your character wants this, she’s not hesitating. She’s been yearning for this for weeks now, and I need you to show that through the screen. I want to feel the tension, the desperation.”

She pins you with a look, a sort of knowing glint in her eye. “Understood?”

“Yep, got it.” You offer a smile, the fakeness of it making you cringe. Your makeup artists swoop in, touching up the smallest details possible, while you avoid eye contact with Wanda. 

“Hey,” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you glance at her. Her eyes are locked on yours, and you somehow can’t bring yourself to look away. She looks almost… sad.

“Are you alright?” 

You mentally scoff, your walls crumbling slightly as the green of her eyes threatens to overtake you. “Yeah.”

The clipped tone of your voice rebuilds your walls, the stone solidifying once again. You turn away, walking towards the beginning spot of this scene, not seeing the confusion that overtakes Wanda’s expression. 

A wave of sadness crashes through her, all the times that you’ve been pulling away from her running through her mind as she makes her way towards her own spot. She attempts to meet your eyes again, but you refuse. 

She knows that this scene won't be successfully shot today. 

“And, action.” 

You look up, your character snapping into place quickly, your eyes dark and full of longing. Wanda is startled by the sudden change but snaps into her own character quickly as you walk slowly toward her. 

“Don’t say things like that,” Your voice is low, your emotions swirling in the forefront of your mind. 

“Things like what?”

“Things that sound a lot like love confessions,” You hear your voice break and want to cringe. It fits perfectly for your character, but you’re unused to sounding so weak. 

“Why not?”

Your body is pressed against Wanda’s, her chest grazing yours with each shallow breath she takes. You almost believe that it’s real, just for a moment. You desperately wish it was. 

Wanda’s eyes search yours, and you’re reminded that she’s playing a character. A character that’s falling madly in love with you, unconcerned about the repercussions. A character that couldn’t be further from reality. 

You hesitate again, your body refusing to move your lips closer as your mind wars with itself. 

Wanda sighs, and the director calls out again. You barely hear what she’s saying, your body practically propelling itself away from Wanda, focusing on rebuilding its walls as her hand twitches toward you. 

“It’s alright, “ the director is saying, and you force yourself to focus on her. She’s smiling gently at you, her voice kind, “Everyone has off days, we’ll try again tomorrow. It's been a long week.”

Nodding jerkily at her, you wave off your team, choosing to return to your trailer instead of following them. You’ll deliver your costume later, or have someone come pick it up. But right now, you need to be alone. 

Walking quickly, you practically sigh in relief when you reach your trailer. You’re quick to unlock it, pressing the door open urgently and twisting slightly to close it. 

A hand stops you, delicate fingers wrapping around the door as you look up in shock. You hadn’t realized anyone was following you, but looking into those iridescent green eyes, you understand. 

Wanda says your name, her voice holding a pleading edge to it, and you can’t bring yourself to deny her. 

You open the door wider, silently giving her permission to enter. She brushes past you, fingers twitching but not touching you. She seems to want to touch you, and you try and push down the part of you that wants her to. 

“Why are you…” She hesitates, not knowing what to say. 

Raising your eyebrows, you resign yourself to having this conversation. You knew it was coming, but you find yourself inadequately prepared for it. Standing awkwardly in the middle of your small trailer, you simply stare at Wanda. 

“Why is it so difficult to kiss me?” Wanda’s eyes are sad, and you want to cry. You hadn’t meant to make her fucking sad, and now she looks like a kicked puppy.

The tears that spring into your eyes are unexpected, and you blink furiously as they begin to spill down your cheeks. Wanda steps towards you, but you evade her, opening the door and gesturing for her to leave. You refuse to cry in front of her, not when your heart is seconds away from tearing in two. 

“When I kiss you I want it to be real, I want it to mean something, Wanda.”

The door shuts firmly behind her, and you miss the understanding and longing that appears in her eyes. Wanda turns away, a single tear escaping her. 

Of course it would mean something to her. It would mean everything. 

—

It’s raining, and you want to cry and laugh at the same time. 

Wanda had left you a voicemail. You’d stared at your screen while watching her contact picture pop up as she called you. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to hear her voice, so you let it ring. 

What you hadn’t expected was the voicemail. 

“I just… fuck, I don’t know what I want to say but it would mean something to me. I promise. I- you. I hate this. I hate this distance, I hate that I can’t help you and I hate that I’m falling in love with you.”

The message had ended pretty quickly after that confession. You’d heard a few muttered curse words, and then a dial tone that rang in your ear long after you lowered the phone.

You didn’t know what to do, so you grabbed a rain jacket and started walking. Hoping it will clear your head. Your feet had other plans it seemed, as you found yourself walking up the driveway of Wanda’s home. 

It surprised you, as she lived at least fifteen minutes away by car. You barely remembered the walk there, having been trapped in your own mind as your body brought you towards the only thing you could think of. The person who had consumed your every waking thought, and invaded your dreams.

How fucking typical and cinematic it was, walking up her driveway in the pouring rain. You could see a few lights on, and you begin to prepare a speech. Something super lame and mushy about how much you like… fuck that. How much you love her. 

Fuck. You loved her. 

Of course you did. You’d gotten to know and love the woman behind the famous persona she’d created. The soft, caring woman who loved gardening and puzzles, who hummed along to songs as she cooked, and who looked at you with impossibly soft eyes. 

You knock, and your heart feels like it's about to beat out of your chest. 

Green eyes meet yours, and you recoil. They’re cold and dull, so unlike the usual sparkle that you’re used to, and you feel your walls build higher even as you plead with yourself to lower them. 

Turning, you feel your feet start to walk away, your mind replaying that dead look in her eyes. Your heart fortifies itself, trying not to break as you make your way down the driveway. Tears blur your vision, your ears ringing with embarrassment as you try to remember the way back to your trailer. 

“Wait, just… fuck. Wait.” A firm hand grips your forearm, and you spin in surprise. 

There’s fire behind those green eyes, and you stand still. Wanda’s auburn hair is drenched, rain pelting down on the two of you, running down her perfect face as she blinks at you. 

“I…” She can’t seem to get the words out, her eyes boring into yours. 

Time stands still, the tension thick as you allow yourself to glance at her lips. You feel the words on the tip of your tongue, threatening to escape. You let them. 

“I love you.”

Wanda speaks at the same time, her words slightly faster than yours. Green eyes widen in surprise, and you feel a wave of immense relief sweep through you. 

Rain continues to pour around you, but you barely notice. Within seconds, Wanda’s hands are cupping your face, your own grabbing desperately at her waist as your bodies draw together like magnets. Her lips find yours, and you feel something click into place as your lips slide together effortlessly. 

It feels like coming home after a long day, the months of pining and uncertainty coming to a head as you melt at the feel of her lips against yours. Your shoulders relax, tension seeping out of you as you chuckle. 

Pulling back, you stare at her, watching her eyes crinkle as she mirrors the wide smile on your face. She’s perfect, and you whisper one single thing before your lips find hers again, rain soaking the two of you as you embrace. 

“This is real, I promise.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta

[stylesispunk]

"But daddy I love him"

ceo!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you made up a lie involving joel for the sake of both your companies. What would come out from all of this?

wc: 3k.

warnings: age gap and grammar mistakes because I didn't check my writing.

a/n: this is the mess that comes from my mind after a week of migraines and being sick. The idea is corny and stupid but I had fun and I know the rest is going to be fun too, so I hope you like it. (please read before I regretted it and delete) Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You sat at the head of the sleek conference table, your fingers drumming lightly against the polished surface. The room buzzed with a low hum of voice as the team discussed the latest financial reports and projections. Your mind, however, was elsewhere, focused on the challenge that lay ahead.

The company your father had built from the ground up was now facing unprecedented challenges. Competitors were closing in, and technological advancements were outpacing their current capabilities. Despite their best efforts, it was becoming clear that you needed a strategic partnership to stay afloat.

“Okay, what do you think?" John, the CFO, interrupted your thoughts.

You straightened in your chair, pushing a strand of auburn hair behind your ear. "I think we need to consider all options," you replied firmly. "Including a merger."

The room fell silent. Your suggestion hung in the air, heavy with implications. Everyone knew who you were referring to—Miller Enterprises, your fiercest rival.

"But your father..." John began, hesitating.

You raised a hand to silence him. "I know my father has strong feelings about Joel Miller. But we have to look at this objectively. Our future depends on it."

You could see the doubt in their eyes and the unspoken questions. How could they convince your father, a man known for his stubbornness and pride, to collaborate with the one person he despised the most?

The tension in the room was palpable as the team exchanged uneasy glances. You could almost hear the gears turning in their minds, trying to process the audacity of your proposal. The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, until finally, John spoke up again.

He called you by your first name to emphasize the gravity of the situation: "Do you really think there's any chance your father would agree to this? Joel Miller is his sworn enemy. They've been at each other's throats for years."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "I know it's a long shot. I think their beef is stupid. I mean, my father hates Joel, and whatever the issue, they shouldn’t have passed it on to his son. And we have to at least try. If we don't, Carter Industries might not survive the next year."

Another voice chimed in, this time from Samantha, the head of marketing. "And what about Joel? Even if your father agrees, will Joel go along with it?"

"That's what I intend to find out," you said resolutely. "I'll speak to him tonight at the tech conference. We need to at least open a dialogue."

The room gradually filled with murmurs of reluctant agreement. The plan was risky, but it was the only viable option. The meeting concluded with cautious optimism, and you returned to your office to prepare for the evening.

Later that evening, you attended a tech conference at the Grand Hilton Hotel. The ballroom was filled with industry leaders, investors, and innovators, all mingling under the glittering chandeliers. You moved through the crowd with practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and making mental notes of potential allies.

As you reached the bar, you spotted a familiar figure—Joel Miller. Tall, with a commanding presence and sharp features, Joel was in deep conversation with a group of executives. His eyes met yours briefly, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of surprise before his usual confident expression returned.

You couldn’t lie and say that the man hadn’t caught your attention; since the first time you saw him, you developed a crush on him, looking from afar at how he had been able to save his father’s company after he got sick, which was something you truly admired from him. However, the man seemed to be despicable, only showing cold behavior in front of others and in front of you; after all, you were the daughter of the man, whom he hated the most, and you had to pay for the sins of old men.

With twelve years ahead of you, Joel never took anything you did seriously. For him, you were the spoiled little brat daughter of his enemy.

Your name came out of his lips in such a sultry voice that your back arched. You turned around to face him, and he greeted you with a wry smile as you reached him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.

"Joel," you replied coolly, matching his tone. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"It's always good to keep an eye on the competition," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "I was hoping we could talk," you said instead, lowering your voice. "Privately."

Joel raised an eyebrow but nodded. He excused himself from his group and led you to a quieter corner of the room. The ambient noise of the conference faded slightly, giving you a semblance of privacy.

"Alright, what's this about?" he asked, his tone more serious now.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. "Our companies are in trouble, Joel.”

He widens his eyes at you, surprised.

“Yes, I know your company is in trouble, Joel. and we need to merge if we want to survive."

Joel's expression hardened, with a flicker of skepticism in his eyes. "You know as well as I do that your father will never agree to that."

"I'm aware," you admitted, your voice steady. "But I also know that you're smart enough to see the potential benefits. We need to find a way to make this work."

He studied you for a moment, his gaze intense. "And how do you propose we convince our fathers to set aside their differences and agree to this merger?"

Before you could answer, a waiter approached with a tray of champagne flutes. You each took one, the pause giving you a moment to gather your thoughts.

"We'll need to present a united front," you said finally. "Show them that we're serious and that this is the best option for both companies."

Joel took a sip of his champagne, considering your words. "And how do you suggest we do that?"

Your mind raced, searching for a solution that would make your proposal more palatable to your father. The idea came to you suddenly, reckless and desperate, but it was the only one that seemed even remotely feasible.

"We tell them we're having a baby," you said, the words rushing out before you could second-guess yourself.

Joel choked on his champagne, his eyes wide with shock. "What?!"

"It's not true, of course," you hurriedly explained. "But if they believe it, it might just be enough to make them put aside their differences and agree to the merger."

You held your breath as Joel's reaction sank in. His wide-eyed shock was exactly what you had expected, though it didn't make it any easier to withstand.

"It's the only way they'll take us seriously," you explained quickly, your voice low but urgent. "If they think there's a future together—both personally and professionally—they'll have no choice but to consider the merger."

Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, disbelief still etched on his face. "You're suggesting we lie about something as serious as a baby? Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?"

"I know it's drastic," you admitted, stepping closer to ensure no one could overhear. "But think about it. They'd be forced to put aside their grudges for the sake of a grandchild. And once the merger is complete, we can come clean. By then, it will be too late to undo anything."

He stared at you, the intensity of his gaze making your heart pound in your chest. "And what if they find out before then? What if they never forgive us for the deception?"

You shrugged, trying to seem more confident than you felt. "It's a risk, yes. But it's a risk we have to take if we want to save our companies."

Joel ran a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the wheels turning in his mind as he weighed the pros and cons of your reckless plan. Finally, he sighed, a mixture of frustration and reluctant agreement in his expression.

"Alright," he said slowly. "We'll do it your way. But this better work, or we'll both end up paying for this."

You nodded, the weight of Joel's reluctant agreement settling over you. "Thank you, Joel. I promise, this will work."

He glanced around the room, ensuring no one was eavesdropping. "So, what's our next move?"

"We need to act fast," you replied. "We'll call a meeting with both our fathers and present the news together. We have to be completely united in this."

Joel's eyes narrowed. “And how is your father going to act when he finds out I touched his daughter?” he asked.

You took a deep breath, recognizing the concern in Joel's question. "I know my father is protective," you admitted, "but that's why we need to handle this delicately. We need to present a united front and show them that this decision is ours, not something forced upon us."

Joel's eyes remained fixed on you, the intensity of his gaze making your heart pound. "And what if he reacts badly?”

"That's a risk we have to take," you replied firmly. "But if we approach this with honesty and determination, they'll see that we are serious about our future—both personal and professional. They might be angry at first, but eventually they'll come around."

Joel sighed, rubbing his temples. "You’re a fucking child, and so stupid.”

Joel’s harsh words stung, but you squared your shoulders and met his gaze steadily. "Maybe I am," you said quietly, "but I’m willing to take this risk because I believe it’s the right thing to do. For our companies, for our future."

He looked at you for a long moment, frustration etched on his face, but something else too—perhaps a grudging respect for your determination. "Fine," he muttered finally. "We'll do it your way. But don’t expect me to protect you if this blows up in our faces."

"I don’t need your protection," you replied, your voice steady. "I need your cooperation."

Joel's eyes flickered with something that might have been respect, but he quickly masked it with a scowl. "Alright, then," he said, his voice resigned but firm. "Let's get this over with."

+

The following evening, you arranged a dinner meeting with both fathers at an upscale restaurant, choosing a private room to avoid any public scenes. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and unspoken tension as you and Joel waited for your fathers to arrive.

When your father entered, his eyes immediately narrowed upon seeing Joel. "What is he doing here?" he demanded.

"Please, Dad, sit down," you said calmly. "We have something important to discuss."

Mr. Miller arrived shortly after; his expression equally grim. "This better be good," he said, his tone icy.

Joel and you exchanged a brief, reassuring glance before addressing the room. "Dad, Mr. Miller, we have some news that will affect both our families and our companies," Joel began. "We need you to listen with an open mind."

Your father crossed his arms, suspicion evident in his eyes. "Get on with it."

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. "Joel and I... we’re having a baby."

The reaction was immediate. Your father's face turned a deep shade of red, his eyes widening in shock and anger. "What did you just say?" he thundered.

Mr. Miller's expression was a mix of disbelief and confusion. "This better not be some kind of joke."

"It's not a joke," you said firmly, trying to maintain your composure. "Joel and I are expecting a child. We understand this is unexpected, but we believe this is an opportunity for both our families and companies to come together."

Your father's hands clenched into fists, his voice shaking with fury. "You...you betrayed me. With him."

"Dad, please," you pleaded. "Think about the future. Our child deserves a stable, united family. And our companies need to work together to survive."

You still had no idea of the phantoms your father withe

Mr. Miller, though still shocked, seemed to be processing the information more rationally. "If what you're saying is true, then perhaps we need to reconsider our priorities. For the sake of the future."

Your father glared at him. "You're willing to forgive and forget just like that?"

Mr. Miller met his gaze steadily. "For the sake of a grandchild and the future of our companies, yes. We need to find a way to move forward."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Finally, your father exhaled, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "Fine. For now, we'll discuss this further. But know this: if either of you are lying, there will be consequences."

You nodded, the weight of your father's warning settling heavily on your shoulders. "Thank you, Dad. We promise this is for the best."

Joel gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his grip firm but gentle. "We'll make this work, Sir. I promise."

The tension in the room remained thick, but the initial storm of emotions had passed. The fathers exchanged a few more guarded words, agreeing to meet again to discuss the logistics of a potential merger. As they stood to leave, your father pulled you aside, his face a mix of worry and anger.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he said quietly. "This isn't just about business. It's your life, too."

"I know, Dad," you replied softly. "But I believe this is the right choice. For all of us."

With a reluctant nod, he let you go, and you watched as both fathers left the room, the weight of their expectations pressing down on you.

Joel turned to you, his expression a mix of relief and residual frustration. "Well, that went...better than expected."

You managed a small smile. "Yeah. Now we just have to figure out how to make this convincing."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Please don’t say we need to spend more time together”

Joel's words hung in the air; his frustration evident. You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. "I know this isn't ideal," you said gently, "but we need to make this believable. Our fathers need to see that we're serious."

Joel rubbed his temples, a look of resignation on his face. “They know how babies are made, but fine.” he muttered. "What's the plan?"

"We need to start spending time together publicly," you explained. "Go to events, be seen together, and show that we're committed. We also need to have private moments where our fathers can see us interacting genuinely."

Joel looked at you, his expression softening slightly. "Alright. But let's make this as painless as possible."

You nodded in agreement. "We'll keep it professional and focused on the goal. We don't have to be best friends, but we need to convince them that we're building something real."

“But please, don’t make it public” he begged. “I need to sort some things out first”

You recognized the seriousness in Joel's tone and nodded, understanding his request. "Of course," you replied softly. "We'll keep it low-key for now. Just focus on sorting things out on your end, and when you're ready, we can gradually start making our relationship more public."

+

The next day, you found yourself immersed in a crucial meeting, discussing the finer details of the potential merger with key stakeholders. Despite the weight of the situation, you maintained your composure and focused on the task at hand.

As the meeting progressed, an urgent knock echoed through the door, interrupting the discussion. You glanced up, surprised to see Joel standing in the doorway, his expression stormy.

"Joel, what are you doing here?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

He strode into the room, his jaw clenched with barely contained anger. "We need to talk," he said tersely, his gaze fixed on you.

Sensing the gravity of the situation, you excused yourself from the meeting, motioning for Joel to follow you to your office. The tension in the air was palpable as you closed the door behind you, bracing yourself for whatever news had prompted Joel's unexpected visit.

"What's wrong?" you asked, your voice laced with apprehension.

Joel paced the room, his frustration evident in every movement. "Your father," he began, his voice tight with anger. "He's made the news public. He's announcing our supposed relationship to the world."

Shock rippled through you at the revelation. "What? But we agreed to keep it low-key until you were ready."

Joel's expression darkened. "Clearly, your father had other plans. He's blindsided us, and now our private arrangement is splashed across every news outlet."

Your heart sank as you processed the implications of your father's actions. "I can't believe he would do this," you muttered, a mix of disbelief and betrayal washing over you.

Joel stopped pacing, his gaze locking on yours. "You need to deal with this now!” he said, pointing at you.

"Okay, what's so wrong?" you asked, trying to maintain a calm demeanor despite the rising panic within you.

Joel's eyes bore into yours; his frustration was palpable. "Do you realize what this means? Our private agreement is all out in the open now. We're going to be scrutinized and judged, and God knows what else."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. "I understand the gravity of the situation, Joel. But you can't panic. We need to think rationally and come up with a plan to handle this."

He scoffed with a bitter edge to his tone. "And what plan do you propose? The damage is done. We need to contain this before it spirals out of control."

"Why are you asking so crazily about it?" you questioned, a hint of confusion in your voice. "We're in this together, Joel. We need to focus on finding a solution."

Joel's frustration seemed to reach a boiling point as he paced the room, his movements tense and agitated. "Because," he finally spat out, his voice laced with bitterness, "I have a girlfriend, and she's not too pleased about being dragged into this mess."

Shock washed over you as his words sank in. "Wait, what? You have a girlfriend?"

He shot you a withering look, his anger barely contained. "Yes, I have a girlfriend," he snapped. "And she's not exactly thrilled about the fact that I'm supposedly having a baby with you, of all people."

The revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. You had never considered the possibility that Joel might be involved with someone else. The realization that you had unwittingly become entangled in his personal life only added to the chaos of the situation.

"I had no idea," you murmured, feeling a surge of guilt wash over you. "I'm so sorry, Joel. I never meant for any of this to happen."

He scoffed, his expression filled with scorn. "Well, it did happen. And now we're both in this mess, thanks to your brilliant idea.”

He scoffed with a bitter edge to his tone. "And what plan do you propose? The damage is done. We need to contain this before it spirals out of control."

"Why are you asking so crazily about it?" you questioned, a hint of confusion in your voice. "We're in this together, Joel. We need to focus on finding a solution."

Joel's frustration seemed to reach a boiling point as he paced the room, his movements tense and agitated. "Because," he finally spat out, his voice laced with bitterness, "I have a girlfriend, and she's not too pleased about being dragged into this mess."

Shock washed over you as his words sank in. "Wait, what? You have a girlfriend?"

He shot you a withering look, his anger barely contained. "Yes, I have a girlfriend," he snapped. "And she's not exactly thrilled about the fact that I'm supposedly in a fake relationship with you, of all people."

The revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. You had never considered the possibility that Joel might be involved with someone else. The realization that you had unwittingly become entangled in his personal life only added to the chaos of the situation.

You swallowed hard, the weight of Joel's words settling heavily on your shoulders. "I understand," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I never meant to cause any harm, Joel. I thought…”

“You didn’t think! That’s the  problem." He snapped, “You’re a spoiled woman, just as I always thought, and you don’t care about anything or anyone.”

Joel's words cut deep, slicing through your defenses like a razor-sharp blade. The accusation stung, and you felt a surge of pain and frustration rise within you.

"I do care, Joel," you protested, your voice shaking with emotion. "I care about our companies and about our futures. I thought I was doing what was necessary to save them."

He scoffed; his expression hardened with resentment. "Save them? You're willing to sacrifice anything and anyone to get what you want, aren't you? Including my relationship, my life?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of guilt and anguish clouding your vision. "No, that's not true," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I never wanted to hurt you, Joel. I never wanted any of this."

He shook his head, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Don’t you dare to cry when you were the one who came up with this idea?”

Joel's words hit you like a punch to the gut, intensifying the ache of guilt and regret that had already weighed heavily on you. His anger was palpable, his frustration tangible, and you felt utterly defenseless in the face of his accusation.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you or anyone else."

His expression softened slightly, but the anger still smoldered in his eyes. "I know," he said, his voice gentler now. “I’m sorry for talking to you that way... It’s just... this girl; I haven’t felt this way about someone, and I don’t want to lose it because of you.”

Tension hung heavy in the air as Joel's words lingered between you. The raw honesty in his confession took you aback, softening the edges of your own guilt and remorse.

"I understand," you replied, your voice tinged with empathy. "I never intended to come between you and anyone else. I just wanted to do what was best for our companies."

Joel nodded, a sense of resignation settling over him. "I know," he murmured, his gaze drifting to the floor. "But we're in this mess now, and we need to figure out how to fix it."

You nodded in agreement, a shared determination filling the space between you. "We'll find a way," you promised, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "Together."

As your hand made contact with Joel's arm, you both felt a sudden jolt of electricity shoot through the air, a tangible spark igniting between you. His gaze lifted from the floor to meet yours, and in that moment, you both sensed a shift in the atmosphere.

Joel's expression softened a flicker of something unreadable dancing in his eyes. For a brief moment, the world's weight seemed to lift from your shoulders as you stood there, connected by a string that threatened to pull the both of you together.

´+

[neiptune]

ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

c/w: 11k wc, SUGGESTIVE, summer romance, strangers to fwb to lovers, eren is a surfing instructor, overall it's just a light and hopefully enjoyable story full of sea, conflicting feelings & newfound friendships! it's been a minute since i published anything but i'd love to come back with part 2 if you guys enjoy :)

i've read i wish you would by @meowzfordayz so many times i eventually got inspired to write my own lil summery piece 🤍

PART 2

Eren doesn’t think anything of it.

He’s used to being watched as he runs back and forth by the shoreline, salt drying on his tan skin and surfboard faithfully tucked underneath his arm.

He’s used to drawing the interest of girls, women and some men whenever he hangs out at the beach cafe with his friends. Eren actually gets a kick out of the thrilled glances he receives as he travels from thick towels to colorful beach umbrellas, in search of strangers bold enough to take part in a volleyball match against his team.

But it’s the third day, your yellow towel is always in the same spot and he finds himself glancing back at you more often than not. You’re a tourist, most probably from the city. It’s clear from how you shield yourself from the sun and the way you keep attempting to brush the sand off your legs with a frown he finds comical. You’re a reader, if the thick book you carry around in that straw bag is an indicator. You’re also alone, he’s never seen you in the company of a friend or a relative. Or a boyfriend.

Somehow, you manage to pique his interest, if only for the smile you grant when meeting him halfway to give back the ball Sasha’s serve has conveniently thrown too far away. As he watches you walk back to your towel and right as he manages to catch the brief glance you shoot him from over your shoulder, Eren thinks he just needs the right chance to try his evergreen luck once more.

Fortunately, the perfect opportunity comes earlier than expected.

He’s fresh out of the water, one hand running through brown locks rendered thicker by ocean salt. The pace is cheerful as they walk towards the cafe, hungry as ever after what felt like hours on end of catching waves, adrenaline slowly flowing out of their bodies and heart rate calming down. Eren spots you right away, suddenly so distracted he doesn’t reciprocate Jean’s playful shove nor does he wince in annoyance when he flicks his forehead.

You’re sitting across from Connie and Sasha, polite smile that turns into laughter at what’s most probably one of his friend’s lame jokes. Despite Jean’s yo! that loudly announces their presence, it’s Eren’s the face your gaze flickers to. The smile is still there and wouldn’t it be unkind of him not to return it?

“Man, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse” Jean is absolutely oblivious to your presence and ungracefully lets himself fall down onto one of the rattan stools.

“Burgers are on their way” Sasha pushes her plate of fries towards him and he thanks her with a grin so bright it’s blinding. Her hair is still wet from the lazy swim she took shortly after they arrived at the beach, auburn hair drenched in enough red saturation to contrast with her magenta bikini. 

“I don’t think we’ve met” Eren hasn’t let his eyes shift from your features, so relaxed while witnessing his friends’ antics. You lazily return your attention to him once more and, with a pleasant squeeze of his stomach, he senses the anticipation. Is this encounter so casual, after all? Or is everything going exactly how you’ve been wanting it to? Either way, he’s more than fine with it.

“We haven’t” you reply with a sweet smile, offering a hand he oh so easily envelops in his.

Connie introduces you and your name rolls off from his tongue with a fond inflection already.

“She’s gonna spend the summer here and doesn’t really know anyone—” he interrupts himself to land a protective slap to the back of Jean’s head. He’s been choking down way too many of Sasha’s fries.

“She was asking for some advice on what to do, where to go” Sasha takes it from there, flashes you a smile “so we invited her to join us tonight”

“And I already said I don’t want to intrude” you shrink in your seat a little and Jean scoffs at your demeanor, a lazy wave of the hand to brush your concerns off.

“It’s cool. The more, the merrier”

“Besides” Eren worms his way into the conversation “you’re gonna need reliable allies if you want to survive in the wild”

Genuine amusement settles at the corners of your lips while you take note of the jovial glint in his mirth gaze.

It’s exactly what you must look like to them, you think while trying to decide what to wear for the impending night out. An outsider in need of some guidance, the right companionship not to feel too lost while attempting to navigate the pathetically lonely summer ahead of you.

The simple truth is that you don’t really mind being on your own. This was a last minute, impulsive trip you had booked without thinking too much about it. You sort of wanted to get accustomed to the quieter life, idyllic days puncuated by late brunches, ocean waves crashing against the shore, the familiar rustle of pages of your favorite books, perhaps a movie or two while comfortably snuggled in the big, soft bed your small vacation rental came with.

All you’re actually after is a peaceful summer but sure enough you don’t mind meeting a person or two, nice people you can have a chat with at the beach instead of spending hours on end listening to true crime podcasts. You don’t mind having an excuse to finally put on something other than your sleeping shorts, pull out the only lipstick you have carried with you halfway across the country and actually spend some time outside of your room.

You definitely don’t mind having the chance to get to know hot surfer boy either, pretty much the embodiment of any summer romance trope a girl could think of. Doesn’t take a genius to understand that he’d be the main character in each individual one.

Attractive? Check. Charming? Check. Residing on a remote island in the middle of the ocean? Check. Eats, sleeps and breathes just to flirt with anything that moves? Most probably, check.

And although romance is definitely not what either of you are after, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have some harmless fun.

Isn’t that what summers are for?

That’s the thought you carry with you as you approach their table at the bar, a confident smile hopefully concealing the slight tension in your shoulders. In the end, you opted for a striped blouse and a simple, white denim skirt.

Connie enthusiastically chirps your name and Eren, who is seated on the outer edge of the booth seating, makes room for you right away. The space is cramped enough for everyone to be basically leaning against each other and you think it’s not exactly a coincidence that your thigh has to be flush against Eren’s in order to fit in the booth.

“You have to try this, it’s amazing!”, Sasha grins while gently pushing her drink towards you, the glass leaving a trail of condensation on the mahogany table. You lean over to take a small sip from the green straw. It’s a classic piña colada, the frozen blend of pineapple and creamy coconut a little too sweet for your liking.

“Think I’ll go with a moscow mule” you smile an apologetic smile and she just shrugs, unimpressed.

“I second that” a gentle yet unfamiliar gaze meets yours, copper mug raised in a metaphoric toast “I’m Armin, so nice having you with us tonight!”

“Thanks, Armin” with a soft chuckle you introduce yourself as well.

They’re such a diverse group but manage to fit amazingly well together, you find. The common denominator is genuine friendliness, there’s not an ounce of fabrication in the kind tone used to direct questions your way, each and everyone of those present genuinely curious and determined to make you feel included.

“You can’t be serious” Connie’s nose scrunches in a displeased grimace “books? Tv shows? Is that seriously what you’ve been doing?”

“I’m technically on vacation” your weak attempt at justifying yourself is laughed at.

“A great reason not to stay indoors the whole damn day” Jean downs his third beer of the evening and points a finger in your direction “consider yourself under our wing from now on”

“Not sure sweating under the sun while jumping after a ball matches my idea of fun” you give him a skeptical albeit playful look.

Sasha, three piña coladas in, slams her fist on the table .

“That’s exactly what I tell them every summer!”

“No one forces you to play like, ever” Connie smirks her way “wish you’d spare us the agony of having you on the team actually”

“He’s kidding” Armin is quick to chime in, alarmed by the childlike astonishment suddenly filling Sasha’s big brown eyes.

“What’s your idea of fun, then?” a deep, warm voice pulls you away from the funny scene taking place in front of you.

“This night is fun” you smile, gaze finally meeting sage eyes that have been so intently focused on you throughout the evening. Your leg is still shamelessly pressing against his, more of an intentional touch than a forced one. The amount of warmth radiating through his jeans is enough to send a shudder down your spine.

Eren mirrors your smile.

“We’re fun people” he concedes “what else?”

You pause, pensive for a moment. It’d be great to actually be the mysterious, secretly entertaining stranger from the city he’s probably picturing but the sour truth is that you own a boring, quite ordinary personality.

“Reading at the beach instead of my bed?” you crack another smile, met with a chuckle and an eyeroll this time.

“Ever tried surfing?” despite the amused expression, it’s clear he’s not mocking you.

“I literally live in Tokyo”

“Not even on vacation? As a kid? Ever?”

It’s cute, the authentic shock painting his features. So you smile again with a slight shrug.

Eren clicks his tongue.

“I’ll teach you. You’ll never be the same again”

This time it’s you who’s laughing as he frowns.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just trying to picture how many girls you must’ve said that to”

Slightly taken aback, he offers half a smile.

“I don’t need to say that to girls, I’m actually an instructor”

“Right, so they come looking for you anyway”

“What’s this sudden interest in how I get girls?”

You innocently cross your ankles underneath the table, which causes your leg to press against his a little more.

“Not sudden”

Another boyish smirk splits across his face as he leans slightly closer, a dangerously inviting scent enveloping your senses already. He’s not even wearing any cologne.

“Seriously, come take a look tomorrow” Eren pauses for a second, intentionally, eyes travelling down to the soft curve of your lips “I usually make it fun, or so I’m told”

Sulking in your seat, you playfully raise your eyebrows because this is a game two should play.

“Does that mean you’re not gonna show me your place tonight?”

Without missing a beat, Eren fakes a pensive hum, magnetic gaze shamelessly lingering on your lips again.

“I might. If you promise to come take a look tomorrow”

He’s not one to be intimidated and, as a matter of fact, he has been fighting the urge to place a hand on your thigh for the entire night.

You huff, newly found boldness courtesy of the second moscow mule and the thrill of the unknown. Surf is something you’ve never been interested in and you sincerely doubt all the women telling him how good of a teacher he is weren’t simply after the same thing you are being offered right now. But if a little stroke of the ego and some acquiescence will get you what you want, which is for him to finally just touch you, would you really be dumb enough to miss the perfect opportunity?

“Fine. I’ll stop by” you concede but whatever he has to say in response gets harshly sucked in by Sasha’s sobs.

The invisible bubble that had shortly enveloped you both suddenly bursts with a pop as you redirect your attention to the rest of the party. Jean seems genuinely horrified, Connie is just laughing with literal tears in his eyes as he watches Armin whisper comforting words to their friend.

“What the hell did you say to her?” you’re slightly surprised to hear the protective annoyance embedded in Eren’s tone, especially when you thought he’d just laugh the whole situation off.

“Nothing!” panic makes Jean’s voice squeaky and Connie only laughs harder, slamming a hand on the table.

“She thinks the ocean has dried up!” he can barely spell the words out before erupting in another fit of laughter right as Sasha’s desperate sobs increase in volume.

“Sash, I promise nothing has happened to the ocean” Eren attempts to gently take one of her hands and move it away from her face but she just harshly slaps his fingers away.   

“I don’t believe you!” she wails so heartbreakingly Armin deems wise to catiously hide what’s left of her drink behind one of Jean’s beer bottles.

“Sasha” you softly chime in and perhaps it’s because your voice is still unfamiliar that she looks up, puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks “I just got back from the beach, with a gift” it takes everything in you not to laugh as her eyes widen in shock when you pull out a glass of water from underneath the table.

“Special ocean water, just for you”

“How did you get that?” before you even have the chance to come up with a believable answer, Sasha gasps so audibly a few people turn around to look at your table “are you a mermaid?”

Connie is howling with laughter at this point, as Jean slaps a hand to his mouth to no avail. Eren just sighs.

“Why do we let her drink every time?” he mutters under his breath.

You ignore each and every one of them as you inch across the table, palms facing upward.

“You can’t tell anyone” the conspiratorial whisper is what probably gets her as she leans over in turn, absolutely amazed while inspecting your wet fingertips.

“Guess it’s time to take her home” with a sigh of relief, Armin finally relaxes in his seat.

“Your turn” Connie grins mischievously at Eren, who just rolls his eyes.

“I could use a hand” his lips conveniently brush against the shell of your ear as he pretends the sudden proximity was nothing but a natural consequence of his standing up. You follow suit with a soft smile and so does Sasha, who refuses to let go of your hand.

“We’re not like this all the time” Armin looks exhausted and something tells you he’s usually the one responsible for keeping tabs whenever things get out of control. It suits his kind nature, or at least that’s the impression you get after spending a few hours with him.

“Will you come to the beach tomorrow? I’d really like to continue that conversation about confessional poetry” and so you smile at him, no ulterior motive besides the genuine pleasure that comes with meeting a new potential friend with interests so similar to yours.

Sasha impatiently pulls you by the hand as Eren balances her body against his, an arm around her waist to make sure she stands.

“Yeah” warmth radiates from the tired albeit gentle smile Armin offers you “I’ll bring my Robert Lowell book”

“Remember what I said” Jean scoffs impatiently as Connie waves goodbye with a pestiferous grin glued to his face “our wing. Fun summer. No more indoors”

“Aye aye, captain” you chuckle.

“Let’s go!” Sasha tugs at your blouse twice and Eren has to literally keep her from collapsing on the floor when she clumsily stumbles upon her own feet.

You gently untangle your hand from her grabby fingers and secure her arm around your shoulders, careful not to fall yourself as she suddenly leans in to press her nose to your cheek.

“Your hair smells like the ocean” she mumbles dreamily and you can’t hold back the giggle that bubbles from your throat while you help her out of the bar, Connie’s chuckle the last thing you register before stepping out in the humid hair of the night.

“Everything okay over there?” Eren can’t help but smile when he glances in your direction, sincerely amused by the way his friend is all over you.

“Absolutely” your smile is intended for Sasha instead, who is walking pretty much blindly since her undivided attention is still focused on something that’s entirely different from the sidewalk. With a careful brush of your thumb, you clean off some of the smudged mascara underneath her eyes.

“Maybe someone should’ve stayed with her” you discreetly whisper over her head.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll tuck her in, make sure she wakes up with water and some painkillers nearby” Eren meets Sasha’s gaze and laughs when she grins widely at him.

“You’re my best friend!” she cheers so loudly you jump a little “the best Eren I know!”

“I’m the only Eren you know” he gently flicks her forehead, fingers barely grazing her skin.

You chuckle again, too caught up in the moment to realize how disarmingly nice and attentive and attractive he actually is.

Sasha is not steady enough on her legs but you can barely feel the weight you’re supposedly sustaining, Eren most likely doing the majority of the work. He hums and distractedly mumbles reassuring nothings in response to his friend’s incessant nonsense, still more amused than annoyed. When you reach her apartment at last they both insist you step in with them, Sasha being particularly excited at the thought of showing you her seashell collection (“it’ll make you feel at home!”) but you kindly refuse and watch as he quite literally drags her inside while she enthusiastically waves and promises to visit you the next day. Whether she means to come by your place or dive underwater, you can’t tell.

Because of what you’re wearing, sitting on the sidewalk is a hard pass. Still, Sasha doesn’t live far from the beach, much like basically every other island resident. You don’t mind waiting outside, not when you can hear the faint sound of crashing waves and the brackish breeze gently ruffles your hair.

It’s relaxing, really, getting to quietly stand by as everything else drifts before you. Couples taking a stroll by the shore nothing more than dark silhouettes barely discernible from where you’re standing, an old man slowly pushing a gelato cart and then stopping to take a break, groups of friends loudly making their way through the street as some bystanders direct them glances expressing disapproval.

“Hey” Eren materializes next to you out of thin air, a smile tugging at his lips when you wince “want one?”

With a small nod, he indicates the ice cream cart. You smile back.

“Ah, no, thanks. Is she okay?”

Something passes through his handsome face, some sort of indefinite emotion gone before you have the chance to even fully notice it, the apology remaining tucked up in the corner of his mouth.

“Out like a light. C’mon, I want one, we can share”

He doesn’t give you the time to decline again. You just have to promptly follow him not to fall behind as he marches towards the vendor. They seem to know each other: Eren calls him uncle Katsu and the older man seems delighted about the encounter. He asks if his favorite customer wants the usual but Eren glances at you, amusement conquering his relaxed features once more.

“Nah, she wouldn’t understand. Give me something more tourist friendly”

Brows furrowed, you open your mouth to protest but you’re cut off by Katsu’s boisterous laugh.

Sullen, you end up with a butter pecan cone Eren lets you hold more than a fair amount of time for two people who are supposed to be eating equal amounts of ice cream.

“What’s the usual?” you grumble and he grins walking beside you, hands shoved in pockets and pace comfortably slow.

“Pineapple, with chunks”

“Nice” the attempt at playing off your skepticism as nonchalance fails miserably.

“You’re gonna try it eventually, I’m just giving you some time to get accustomed to the wilderness first”

With a huff you pass him the cone, trying to ignore the pleasant flip of your stomach at his words. Is he assuming you’ll hang out more than just this once?

“You really like living here” it’s a sincere observation that just slips out, past all the casual facade you’re trying to keep up.

Eren shrugs but there’s fondness in the way he looks at the ordinary street ahead of him.

“I do. Can’t imagine myself anywhere else”

The affection vibrating in his tone makes you bitter. You never experienced that sense of belonging, not to a place, not even to your own family. The only person who’s ever been the closest at becoming home has let you down so violently, so suddenly, your scarred skin is still having a hard time healing itself.

Eren peers down at you, taking in your pensive expression. He wonders why you look so gloomy all of a sudden, if your friends ever call while you’re busy spending your days all by yourself on the other side of Japan. He wonders why you’re here on your own.

“What about you?” his tone is light, poised between genuine curiosity and the urge to elicit a shred of actual information “how come you’re staying here all summer?”

The gloom dissipates so abruptly it hardly looks natural.

“Ah, my rich parents agreed to pay for the vacation so why not take full advantage of their kindness?” you shrug with a smile that hopefully covers up the lie well enough. His furrowed brows indicate that he’s not fully convinced but genuine intimacy and heartfelt confessions in the middle of the night are not what you need nor what you want, therefore it’s only fair to batten down the hatches.

“So, where’s this place of yours? Far from here?” you jokingly ask with a light shove of your shoulder to his arm.

Eren pauses for a second, seeming so taken aback you feel your face getting hot with embarrassment.

“You actually want—”

“You don’t—”

Both of you look at each other with furrowed brows, until he stops in his tracks.

Fuck.

“Uh” you let out a nervous chuckle “I’m so sorry. That was weird of me, I don’t know what I was thinking. Probably stood in the sun too long today. Anyway, I can totally walk myself home, don’t feel obligated to—”

He too laughs but, again, it’s not to poke fun at your pathetic little self.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” the playful glint in his eyes only contributes to embarrass you further, so he promptly softens his tone “I should be the one apologizing. I just thought you wouldn’t want to, you know, after Sasha and everything”

You blink a few times, candidly confused.

“No? I mean, I like Sasha. I like all your friends” it’s the unexpected truth, one that makes him smile.

For a split second, he considers asking if you like him too, even if your willingness to let him take you home already speaks volumes. But why would he? If Sasha getting absolutely plastered and almost throwing up on you wasn’t enough of a turn off, Eren should just shut the fuck up and savour the opportunity he’s been waiting for ever since seeing you at the beach for the first time. He’s been picturing the pretty creases of that blouse on his bedroom floor pretty much the entire evening.

“I’m just a few blocks away” therefore he smiles that attractive smirk of his, right before taking one last bite of the crumbly cone in his cream-stained hand.

“Don’t feel compelled to—”

“You look beautiful right now” Eren cuts you off abruptly, words dying in your throat as you look back in shock “the whole night, actually. The last thing I’m feeling is compelled” his noses scrunches slightly, as if feeling nauseated by the ridiculous assumption alone.

Another beat passes before you allow your lungs to deflate with the release of a breath.

“Okay” you mutter, still dazed by the sudden, straightforward flattery.

Eren’s smile grows in softness this time. An entire second is spent thinking that smile suits him more than the confident smirk of a moment ago.

“Okay” he says back.

When he arrives at the beach the next morning, earlier than usual, he spots you right away. You’re sitting on your yellow towel and seem engaged in a heated discussion with his best friend, both of you interrupting the other with a frantic gesturing of hands.

Eren stops for a second, surfboard planted in the sand for good measure, one hand on top of the other as he just takes a moment to observe you. His mind travels back to the slight disappointment swallowing the convenience of waking up with an empty spot next to him, the sun bleeding through the shutters because he’d forgotten to close them. How could he had remembered with your fingers running through his hair and the goosebumps blossoming on his forearms?

He didn’t have the time to explore you like he had intended to, he couldn’t take his time because you were so eager and it was surprising how impatient Eren found himself to be in turn, how rapidly you adapted to each other. He even remembers genuinely enjoying the short, embarrassing incidents that came with growing accustomed to such a sudden yet highly anticipated proximity: your head bumping into his while straddling his lap, him knocking over the lamp from his nightstand, airy laughs swallowed by each other’s mouths.

Little to no foreplay was needed, the memory of your fingers closing around his wrist to confidently guide his hand between your legs still pulsing in his mind. He barely got the chance to kiss you, nowhere near as how he would’ve liked to, his lips being hastily reclaimed everywhere else.

He’s not even sure why he’s still lingering there, uncertain. Eren’s had countless one night stands before but once both parties got what they needed none of them were really there to hang out again, certainly nowhere near his friends anyway. He’s had longer affairs with tourists, mutual attraction and harmless fun lasting from days to weeks, his conquests eventually recognizing Jean or exchanging a few pleasantries with Connie. But this has never really happened. He’s never made plans with someone before even getting to the point of having them in his bed, for the next day no less. He’s never frowned upon waking up alone and he’s definitely never chuckled while barefoot in his own kitchen, the messily scribbled note you had tucked underneath his french press in hand.

Your coffee sucks.

You didn’t even bother to wash the mug abandoned in his sink but still you made sure he’d wake up to a freshly brewed serving anyway.

Eren’s never truly liked any of his one night stands enough to frame them as potential friends in the long run and so it was a little unsettling, the feeling that you were just about to change that.

“Can you believe they deemed this as lazy writing?” Armin’s finger skims across the page he’s holding open, underlining a particular verse “now the hot river, ebbing, hauls its bloody waters into holes; a grain of sand inside my shoe mimics the moon that might undo man and creation too”

You hum, appreciative.

“It’s the absence of flowered language. Nobody liked reading about raw trauma and dramatic events but at the root of hypocrisy is always fear and low self-esteem” with a little shrug, you smile “essentially, they were a bunch of assholes”

“You can’t truly appreciate poetry if life scares you” for some reason, Armin’s words make your insides twist for a second. You remember one of your favorite Anne Sexton’s poems and its brutal honesty: suicides have a special language, like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. It felt dangerously similar to how you were living.

“Enough of this unsettling realness” Armin closes his book with a loud thud and gently places it between your bodies, on your soft towel. You wonder if he’s noticed your sudden gloom or if he just genuinely wants to talk about something else. “Anything fun planned today? I know Jean can be insufferable but we do have some cool activities around here” he smiles.

“Eren wanted me to check out his lesson but I’m not sure surf could ever be my thing” the smile you return is shy, because you don’t want to sound ungrateful nor make the conversation weird. It’s pretty evident that you’ve spent the night with him, if only from the hickeys scattered at the base of your throat. Armin has just been nothing but a gentleman, too polite to even stare at them.

Once again, he doesn’t even falter at the mention of his friend’s name.

“Still, you should give it a go! I used to think the same and now I can’t go a day without riding a wave. Even when I’m not on vacation, if the weather’s nice enough I’m here as soon as I’m done working” he grins.

“I never asked what you do, by the way”

“I’m a copy editor in a publishing house, mainly work from home but sometimes I travel to Tokyo. Leaves me a lot of freedom, really. What about you?”

You hesitate. But he’s looking at you so candidly, head slightly tilted to the side, that you can’t find it in yourself to lie.

“I’ve been laid off a few weeks ago, actually. I was a winemaker at a pretty famous winery in town”

Armin lets out a slow whistle.

“That sounds so cool!”

You chuckle.

“All I do is monitor the maturity of grapes, oversee the process and place orders”

“I’d love to visit once you start somewhere else. I’m sure it’s gonna happen in no time” he places a warm hand on your shoulder and briefly squeezes it. You’ve never experienced the kindness of a stranger, not at such a high level anyway. As you thank him with a touched smile, for the first time this impulsive vacation doesn’t feel like just a way out anymore.

“I suggest you two sit closer to the shore, the first group of the day is gonna be here soon” a playful voice interrupts your chitchat and you look up to find a familiar figure silhouetted against sunlight right before your towel. A flash of embarrassment seems to take over his features for a few seconds as he takes notice of the now very much noticeable marks on your skin. But then he just smiles that friendly smile of his, one that tells you there’s a chance of not letting any potential awkwardness stand in the way of what could become a harmless friendship. You appreciate the maturity.

“Wanna help me out?” Eren then looks at Armin, who’s squinting his eyes in attempt to stare back.

“I’ll keep her company. Maybe later, with the kids”

“You’re pretty special, he never skips the chance to hop on a surfboard”

As you get up and start collecting your things, Armin’s book secured underneath your arm while he helps you out with the towel, you briefly glance at Eren with half a smile.

“Let’s see if you’re good enough to convince me to get on one in the first place”

He rolls his eyes, feigning exasperation.

“Just watch me”

And so, you and Armin look at each other with an equally amused smile, the complicity over a moment so simple warming your heart.

While sitting there with him, feet sunk into where the sand is cool and damp, you observe Eren with genuine curiosity. The variegated group he’s handling consists of ten people, it’s most probably not their first class as everyone seems to already know what to do.

They’re going over what they’ve learned until now, Eren repeating instructions out loud and nodding proudly as his students comply. Two girls, friends by the looks of it, keep asking him to help them position their bodies better on the surfboard. When the blonde one fails to properly stand up and her foot theatrically slips, with an exaggerated grimace she begs him to support her weight as she tries again. With Eren’s hands on her hips, she succeeds in hopping up with a form so perfect you can hardly hold back a scoff. Armin chuckles beside you.

“It’s pretty much always like that”

“No way” you mock “that’s crazy!”

“I mean, it’s kinda part of the job to go along with it” he shrugs.

Does he think I’m jealous or something?

“You didn’t have to stay” there’s softness in your tone, just to make sure he doesn’t take it the wrong way, but he blushes nonetheless.

“It doesn’t happen as often to me” the spluttering makes you giggle. You’re not blind: he has arms, he has abs, shoulders wide enough to well pique one’s interest and a smile so sweet he’s probably the favorite instructor of more than one student.

“I find that hard to believe” the implied compliment tints his cheeks with a richer pink and he runs a hand through his fair hair to conceal the embarrassment.

“But I didn’t mean it like that” you decide to put an end to his misery “I just meant, feel free to go ride some waves”

Armin shakes his head.

“I have the entire day to do that” he smiles “and no one else likes to talk about books with me”

“But your group is great. You guys seem pretty close”

“We all grew up here, I’ve known Eren since kindergarten and I met everyone else along the way. Some of us you didn’t meet actually, like Christa and Mikasa”

“They don’t live here anymore?”

Armin sighs, plants his heel in the sand a little deeper.

“Yeah, they moved for college and never really came back. They prefer the city”

You can understand that, to be honest. You grew up in a small town near the countryside and although it’s not nearly comparable to an even smaller island, you remember the primal need to run away, driven by the firm belief that there’s surely more to explore, better ways to live and opportunities to seize in the big city. Back then, Tokyo felt like a dream. An endless pool of magical possibilities.

“You probably think it’s insane, wanting to stay on an island that only comes alive a few months per year” Armin’s gaze is lost across the ocean, so you look ahead too. Eren’s group is in the water now, paddling in and taking off on the foam that propels colorful surfboards onto the waves. Most of the students previously warming up by the shore succeeds in remaining upright, cheered on by those who have either been less brave or simply not balanced enough.

“No, I think wanting to stay requires a lot of love. I never had that for the place I grew up in”

“And are you happy now, in Tokyo?”

You force your lips into a smile, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’m happy”

Another cheerful fit of screams has you both returning your attention to the group challenging the ocean, one particular figure paddling perpendicular to an exceptionally big wave, angling his take off perfectly to the left before popping up and digging the inside rail of his surfboard into the water. Knees bent, he’s a sight for sore eyes as he beautifully rides along the vertical center of the wave, the sun complimenting his tan skin.

“Showoff” you snort and Armin laughs.

“Let’s go get a drink, Sasha makes a killer frozen lemonade”

“Sasha?” you ask, surprised.

He nods.

“She should be on shift today”

“She works at the cafe?”

Armin smiles.

“Her family owns the cafe, actually. She just helps out in the summer, whenever she can catch a break from the internship she’s doing”

And sure enough she’s actually there, all smiles and cheerful pitch behind the counter.

She turns ecstatic as soon as the spots the both of you, calling you by your name with such warmth your cheeks hurt a little from how wide you’re smiling already.

“Hey! How’re you feeling?”

You and Armin sit on the rattan stools opposite to the counter and she leans over with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Amazing, whoever left that ibuprofen on my nightstand has my endless devotion”

“T’was Eren’s turn to take you home” Armin shoots her a good-natured glare, which elicits her silvery laugh.

“I don’t think he was too bothered about it” Sasha’s intentionally looking at you and her grin has your cheeks grow hot.

“Leave her alone, make us some frozen lemonade” Armin gently grabs her chin and directs her attention to him.

“Oh come on, none of Eren’s special friends ever hangs out with us, I want some details!”

“Sasha!” he hisses as you shrink in your seat, head hanging low in embarrassment “you can’t remember this but she’s been nothing but caring last night, they both took you home”

“Armin, there’s no need to—” you mumble but he shows no sign of having heard you.

“It’s none of our business what they do” he grumbles, letting go of Sasha’s chin “now, please, lemonade. Before I die of dehydration”

She juts her bottom lip out, sullen, eyes back on you.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious. Don’t get me wrong, I’m actually happy I get to finally spend some time with another girl”

You shake your head with a soft smile.

“Please don’t apologize. You’ve all been way too kind to me”

Truth is, the fear of being seen as nothing but their friend’s easy fuck has been nagging at your brain. Especially since deciding you actually, really like them and wouldn’t mind tagging along if they’ll have you. And, of course, if Eren isn’t bothered. The last thing you wanna spend your summer doing is imposing your presence to a group of childhood friends just because you’ve had sex with one of them. That’d be gross.

“Here, it’s on the house” Sasha slides two tall glasses of frozen lemonade across the counter.

Armin grabs his with a sigh of relief, the creaminess of his drink rapidly decreasing in quantity as he gulps it down quickly. You carefully mix it with your straw, then have a first taste and have to keep yourself from moaning.

“I’m gonna need ten of these” you mutter and they both laugh. It’s genius really, the idea of combining the consistency of a milkshake with the tanginess of freshly squeezed lemonade.

You end up staying at the cafe to keep Sasha company while she prepares orders and entertains you with the latest gossip concerning people you don’t even know. You wonder where she gets all that energy from but you also think it suits her, that bubbly aura she so effortlessly carries around. If customers smile a little brighter and leave generous tips, it’s probably thanks to her never ending friendliness: she remembers their names, special orders and always offers free ice cream to kids. She even has special ice cream for dogs.

After a while, Armin leaves to help Eren with his next group of students, as promised. They’re all children this time, so you doubt they’ll bring them into the water: the whole class consists in some training by the shore, Armin and Eren patiently showing them how to paddle and corretly stand on a surfboard over and over again. When what you can only guess are some heated protests erupt, they patiently allow the kids to practice some paddling as close to the shore as possible. You catch glimpses of Eren’s smile and hear his laugh when two kids start splashing him with water, deaf to Armin most probably attempting to draw their attention to the lesson once again.

Eventually, he’s forced to surrender too, as one particularly agile kid climbs onto his shoulders and demands to be carried around. The whole class turns into nothing more than a game session and you find yourself smiling.

After each kid is collected by their corresponding family member, Armin doesn’t waste any more time and he swiftly grabs his bigger surfboard to jump into the ocean once more, finally free to chase waves at its own pace. Eren seems to hesitate, lingering by the shore for a moment, looking around as if searching for something. Then he turns around fully, seemingly scanning the cafe and meeting your gaze although, from that distance, you’re not completely sure he’s looking at you specifically. You’re quick to redirect your attention to the pasta salad Sasha has recommended.

“Ah, here comes the athlete” she pulls a face “let’s see how many wraps he’s gonna down, last time it was three”

“Hello, ladies” the familiar voice is so close you feel a shudder run down your spine as memories from the previous night resurface. He’s leaning on the counter, body facing you and arms crossed showcasing swollen biceps you’re surprised are not carrying any signs of the crescents you very clearly remember being a consequence of your tight grip.

“You’re dripping on my napkins” not nearly as dumbstruck as you, Sasha shoos him away with the impatient push of a hand. In response, Eren shakes his head like a dog would after getting a bath, splashing both his friend and you with ice cold water. She flips him off.

“You’re an ass”

“Will you make me one of your delightful wraps if I behave?” he grins like a child while taking a seat next do you.

“One?” Sasha skeptically raises an eyebrow.

“Make it three”

You chuckle as you meet her knowing look, which causes him to turn to you. He’s even prettier up close, salt already drying on his smooth skin, cheeks slightly flushed.

“So? Opinions on getting started with the best sport in the world?”

Pensive, you bring a forkful of pasta to your mouth.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go”

You had half an idea of teasing him by suggesting Armin be your instructor but the way he quite literally beams at your words forces you to shut right up.

“I’ll pick you up later this afternoon”

“Pick me up?” you frown, confused.

“This beach is way too crowded, there are better places to go”

“So considerate” Sasha loudly places a plate in front of him and Eren just rolls his eyes.

“You don’t even know where I’m staying” trying to swallow yet another lump of awkwardness, you keep your attention on the now almost empty bowl in front of you.  

He huffs, brushing your concern off by gesturing vaguely with a hand.

“I know where all vacation rentals are. Of course, if you wanted, you could make it easier for me”

A funny sound comes out of Sasha’s nose and this time you go along with her demeanor with the raise of a brow.

“If you want my number, just ask” the challenging words roll off your tongue playfully, you don’t really think anything of them.

But much like every other time you thought you had him cornered, he simply looks up from his plate and plants those resolute eyes in yours without so much as a hint of hesitation.

“I want your number”

Why your heart picks up its pace as you both let a beat pass while staring at each other, you don’t really understand. Nevertheless, as the corners of his mouth upturn in a smile with yet another one of Sasha’s scoffs in the background, you think it’s convenient that he’s pretty much doing all the work. Because of course you want his number too.

The place you rented is nothing more than a small beach cottage and while Eren doesn’t exactly live in a penthouse, his house is bigger and way cooler than yours. A mere 100 yards from the beach, it comes with a colorful, eclectic exterior and cute double doors opening out to the porch where he keeps his surfboard, a lounger, one whimsical sign that reads it comes in waves and a small table with two chairs. You don’t really have a porch, just three steps that lead to the front door, which is where you’re sitting while you wait for him to come pick you up. Your straw bag is resting at your feet, filled with the few things he recommended you to bring: sunscreen, a swimsuit, water, all wrapped in a towel. It’s later than you had anticipated and you nervously wonder if he’s actually gonna show up, how long it’s gonna take before you’re done. How ridiculous you’re going to look.

And then he pulls up by your little house with the peeling white paint, window rolled down and one arm gracefully hanging out a silver pickup truck. The two surfboards stored on the bed are reflecting the late afternoon sun.

A light honk has you standing up, his warm smile so wide you can guess the excitement shimmering behind those dark sunglasses.

He pushes the door open for you, so you rush to the car and climb onto the passenger seat. Eren barely gives you the time to fasten your seatbelt before his foot is on the clutch pedal again: his hand swiftly moves the gear shift to the left and then up and the accelerator pedal is pressed down way more harshly than needed.

“You do know that this is probably going to suck, right? I have no idea what to do” you anxiously shift on your seat, to no avail because your back remains glued to it.

Not bothered in the slightest by the ungodly speed he’s driving at, a genuine laugh slips out of him.

“It’s gonna be amazing, I’ll teach you everything you need to know! Plus, I’m taking you to one of my favorite spots, consider yourself lucky” he glances at you with a toothy grin and you let out a panicked sound.

“Look ahead!”

Eren laughs again but complies, not a care in the world or so it seems as he sprints through roads that are way too narrow and bumpy and lacking concrete for him to be driving like that.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why’s my coffee so bad?”

It’s the first actual semblance of a reference to the previous night. You swallow.

“Too bitter. Coffee shouldn’t be too strong, aggressive and off balance. It definitely shouldn’t have just one flavor either”

“Just like wine?”

Surprised, you just stare at him until he cracks another smile.

“Armin told me. You’re kinda cooler than what you come across as”

Eren fakes a groan when you smack his shoulder.

“I just meant” he refrains from looking at your scowl “you don’t really do yourself justice. All that talk about tv shows and books and spending the summer alone—”

“Those things can be cool too. Sorry, not all of us feel the need to live and look like olympic athletes” you cross your arms, stubbornly averting your gaze from his handsome profile to look ahead like a cross child. That’s how you miss a smirk he promptly suppresses.

“I wasn’t trying to offend you. I really do think you’re cool, regardless of your career”

A beat passes before you reluctantly eye him again.

“You’re tolerable, I guess”

The laugh he lets out is so genuine you have to fight back a smile yourself.

His good mood remains seemingly unaltered throughout the ride, lithe fingers absentmindedly drumming on the steering wheel as he strives to make conversation. By the time you arrive at the secluded beach he’s chosen for your first lesson, your nerves are calm enough for you to be actually excited about what’s to come.

The beach is nothing less than a little slice of paradise, sand so white it almost looks fake and turquoise water so inviting you can’t wait to jump in. For the first time, the island presents itself as something other than an overpriced magnet for seasonal tourists: it’s raw in its beauty, so quiet it’s hard to believe you’re not the only two people currently on an uninhabited piece of land in the middle of the ocean.

One thing you’re learning quickly is that Eren is scarily good at easing unnecessary tension. Perhaps it’s because he never seems to feel any, always so relaxed and ready to handle any unexpected circumstance or setback. Sure, he’s outgoing enough for people to easily like him but there’s something about the genuine smiles he offers to everyone, in the attentive care he reserves to his friends. Despite his well-trained figure and intimidating good looks, his touch is gentle and at times timid. He blushes just like everyone else if you trace the line of his jaw with sweet kisses and emits pleased hums when you run your hand through his hair.

You can tell this isn’t something he has set up to lure you back into his bed: how could it be, with that child-like excitement embedded in the instructions he’s giving you? You don’t even feel self-conscious nor ridiculous wearing the wetsuit he’s brought for you, he’s that great at making it fun and keeping it professional. Well, mostly professional.

For the nth time, you jump up with your feet planted and arms out to your side, stabilizing yourself and feeling the breeze flow through your hair as your personal instructor hums.

“Again” he demands and you huff.

“Are we gonna get into the water eventually? I feel like it’s been an hour of this!”

“It has been an hour of this. Now, do it again”

With a pout, you lie belly-down on your longboard once again. You practice your paddling motion once again and then place your palms on the flat of the board just below your chest. In one quick motion, you push your body up with your arms and tuck your feet up and under you. You had started by getting up to your knees first and then bringing up one foot at a time, but you have gained more confidence over the endless minutes spent practicing the same movements over and over again.

“Look at that. You’re a natural” he finally grins, letting some warmth leak through the all too serious facade.

“Thanks to a good teacher” you smile back and he rolls his eyes, barely refraining from uttering a cocky comeback to your obvious statement. He steps closer, calloused fingers gently placed on your hips and warm breath suddenly ghosting over your cheek.

“Don’t spread your legs like that” he mumbles, his own foot gently pushing from behind your left ankle to guide your foot into a better position “this might feel comfortable but it actually makes it harder to control your movements. Balance is always side-to-side, never front to back”

You comply quietly, the sudden closeness leaving your mouth dry. What the hell? It’s not like you weren’t on top of him just a few hours prior. What on earth could be making you so nervous, like some damn bashful teenager?

“Eyes up” Eren gently grabs your chin to lift your head up “always look in the direction you are going”

His other hand is still on your hip, your skin burning so much at the contact you’re positive his fingers are going to leave a mark somehow.

As he lets you go, you’re left so cold you actually shiver.

“Okay! Let’s take it into the water” he gets down on one knee to secure the leash around your ankle, the pads of his fingers grazing your skin once again sending an electric buzz throughout your veins. What the fuck.

Perhaps he senses your weird bodily reactions because he stands up again and motions you to take your board with the impatient wave of a hand. He has his surfboard too, although after seeing what he’s actually capable of doing with it, you doubt it’s gonna be used to ride an actual wave.

“Just get comfortable first, see how it feels” when you’re both waist deep into the ocean he holds your board for you, helping you lie on it again and chuckling when you slip right off a few times.

“You shouldn’t laugh at your students” with a grimace, you try to hold on to it by curling your fingers around the edges. He untangles your grip immediately, one hand gently pressing on the small of your back to keep you balanced on the slippery surface immediately after.

“Never do that, your hand’s gonna slip off and you’re gonna slash your chin open” a subtle teasing is still laced into his tone, so you roll your eyes.

“Okay. I can do this” you mutter, as determined as ever not to fall off the stupid thing again. You haven’t even started yet.

“I know you can” he sounds so goddamn sincere it’s a pain to refrain from glancing in his direction and actually focus on what you’re supposed to do.

With a deep breath, you start paddling around and although you drink your fair share of water in the process, after a while it starts feeling more natural. Your board planes across the waves, nose slightly up, your feet rightly positioned with your toes grazing the leash string. You paddle with long, deep strokes, and Eren keeps shouting instructions and encouragement even if you stray too far from him.

Adrenaline starts circulating in your system and your confidence gets a boost the first time you manage to pop up and shakily cruise on what’s probably the smallest, insignificant wave in recorded history for three entire seconds before slipping back into the water.

But you shout your astonished cry of victory nevertheless and Eren smiles so widely, so proudly, you let excitement cloud your senses and quite literally jump into his arms. It’s not embarrassing, not even when you realize what you’re doing, because he hasn’t tensed a second and is actually hugging you back, happier than ever for the smallest of accomplishments of someone that’s not even him. Of someone he barely even knows.

“Let’s go” you mutter and actually have to take a poorly balanced step back because he’s not, by any means, the one breaking the impulsive hug “I wanna do it again”

This draws an airy laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You’re already hooked, aren’t you?”

“I just can’t believe how good it feels!” you beam, absolutely euphoric “hate to admit it but maybe you had a point”

“Yeah, that happens a lot”

“People being skeptical whenever you say anything?”

Eren huffs and then inches closer to brush some wet hair away from where it’s sticking to your cheeks and forehead, his touch pleasantly cool on your heated skin.

“Me being right” he doesn’t let go of your face, seemingly conflicted about whatever is going through his mind. Oh, he looks good like this, like he belongs to the sea and the summer and whatever beautiful scenery he may be surrounded by. He just fits in. He’s like a tanned Apollo peering down at you, if his hands weren’t on you it would be alarmingly easy to think he’s just a figment of your imagination.

The adrenaline rush still hasn’t worn off, perhaps that’s why you crack a smile.

“Anything else you feeling right about?”

The self-discipline Eren has to exercise not to kiss you knocks the wind out of his lungs for a moment. Because what would become of him if he’d let himself yield to a temptation he doesn’t even completely understand yet? It’s just day two of knowing you.

Get a grip.

“I think we’d be good friends” it’s not lying, he tells himself. It’s just telling a partial truth. And he wishes so badly not to notice the disappointment that flashes in your eyes for a second, as you take a wobbly step back and force another smile on your pretty lips.

“Totally, I agree”

Eren clears his throat and runs a hand through his disheveled hair, which he hasn’t tied back like he had in the morning.

“The sun is about to set, I think you’ve trained enough for today. Let’s head back”

“Can’t we stay a little longer?” you peer up at the sky, only then noticing the soft orange hues painting it “just ten minutes. I haven’t been anywhere this quiet in a while”

“Ten minutes” he agrees and straddles his surfboard, hands pressed on the surface in front of him as he looks up as well.

You imitate his position and sit on your board as well, reveling in the gentle way the waves are lulling your body.

Eren thinks you look beautiful like this, eyes shut and facing the setting sun, features relaxed and hair wet. He can easily see himself dating you, someone who has already won his friends over and whose touch he seems unable to stop craving. But what would be the point? He’s all too familiar with what being an islander means. It’s a fluid state of being, his existence nothing more than a fleeting detail in the lives of those who come and, inevitably, go.

Insularity is painfully romanticised and although most times he gets a kick out of the benefits that come with belonging to a place so distant from the mainland, he also realizes the downsides.

You won’t be here when the days will get shorter and tourists will fly back to their dull lives. You won’t witness the way leaves turn a deep shade of crimson and fall from the trees of his beloved cedar forest, you’ll never take part in one of Connie’s notorious christmas parties nor you’ll taste the Kansai-style ozoni Sasha always brings to their new year’s dinner.

And so, Eren will just keep doing what he does best. Remaining nothing more than a fleeting detail in someone else’s summer.

“Thank you for doing this” your voice snaps him back to reality. He cocks his head, confused.

“I didn’t do anything”

You smile with a little, timid shrug.

“You were up early, training group after group and still took the time to indulge me. I can only guess how tired you are, let’s head back”

He’s not tired. He’s so not tired, he would gladly spend the rest of the evening sitting on a surfboard in the middle of the ocean just talking to you, apparently. Perhaps one of his students’ boards collided with his head?

Eren notices your subtle shivering and clicks his tongue on the way back to his car. He carries your surfboard too and secures it on his truck once again, right next to his. He then undoes the tab at the back of your neck, pulls it down and unzips it to help you out of the wetsuit, patiently waiting on the other side of the car while you get out of your wet swimsuit and slip back into the white sundress you had on earlier that day.

“All done!” you walk around the vehicle, eager to climb onto the warm passenger seat once more. But Eren sees the goosebumps blossoming on your arms and another shudder is enough to inch forward to keep the door of his car locked. You turn around to look at him, a questioning look on your face.

“Come to my place” he blurts it out before he has the chance to stop himself. Your brows knit.

“Why?”

“You’re obviously cold and my house is closer” Eren does his best to play off his tension as sense of practicality “just take a shower, warm up and then I’ll drop you off. I swear I’m not gonna try anything, it’s not—”

“Okay” you interrupt his pathetic rambling and he blinks back the surprise.

Oh.

“Okay. Good. Let’s go then” Eren clears his throat and opens the door for you.

It feels a little weird to be honest, but you’re not uncomfortable as he drives back to his place. This is probably the last time you two will hang out anyway, so what’s the harm in accepting a friendly offer, especially when you can’t seem to stop shivering?

“So… what d’you do once summer ends?” the quietness is slightly unsettling, so you take it upon yourself to make some small talk. He glances at you, no panicked reaction elicited this time as he’s driving more carefully.

“My family has been in the fishing industry for decades, I mainly help them out and try to catch whatever job I can handle from home”

“Do you ever travel? Like, to cities”

Eren huffs out a laugh.

“Yes. You think I’m some kind of savage?”

“No!” heat crawls up from your neck to your cheeks “of course not, I didn’t mean—”

“Relax, I’m kidding” he grins “my college was in Osaka. Lived there four years, got my degree, came back”

“Which degree?” still a little flushed, you avoid his amused gaze.

“Mechanical engineering”

“And you’re not offered engineering jobs?” there’s outrage laced into your tone.

Eren just shrugs.

“Yes. But they all require my presence in an office on the mainland”

You don’t say anthing, mainly because you don’t want to risk blurting out another poorly phrased sentence. It would come out all wrong, it would sound as if you’re looking down on him.

Eren senses everything that’s sitting behind your silence and he’s not bothered. His personal life is not really any of your business and although he understands you mean well, yours is an opinion he’s heard way too many times before. It’s a topic not even worth discussing, least of all with someone he’s barely just met.

When you arrive at his place, your hands and feet are ice cold, your hair painfully frizzy. He asks to give him a second and disappears into the bathroom, rattling sounds coming from behind the closed door making you smile as you hop onto the kitchen counter and take a look around. The small living room is messier than it was last night, or maybe you simply didn’t have the time to really look around on your very first entry to the house.

He comes out of the bathroom with a folded drying rack filled with clothes in his arms (I forgot I was drying laundry in there) only to disappear into his bedroom once more, the sound of closets being harshly opened and closed alongside what you can only guess are wardrobe doors slamming against the wall makes you chuckle.

“What are you doing?” amused, you have to shout the question from where you’re sitting.

He comes out of the room with arms full once more and directs you a quick smile before heading back to the bathroom.

“Fixing you towels and something to wear, that dress won’t do!” he shouts too, which makes you giggle.

“Don’t give me your clothes!”

“They’re clean!”

You laugh again, shaking your head.

Eren finally walks into the kitchen, seemingly exhausted, all the way to the counter you’re sitting on.

“Okay, the bathroom is more guest-appropriate now” a small smile tugs at his lips and you notice the wet stains on the front of his black shirt. Has he cleaned it?

“Thanks” you mutter, a sudden, small lump of uneasiness you can’t seem to swallow.

“I’m such an idiot” he snorts “you must be thirsty. Water? I also have orange juice somewhere, or maybe iced tea”

Right as he takes a step to walk past you and towards the fridge, your body moves on its own accord and your fingers instinctively grab the hem of his shirt. Eren stops, surprised gaze flickering from your hand clenched around the fabric of his clothing to your face.

“I’m sorry, Eren” your brows knit in a frustrated frown “I didn’t mean to come across as judgmental, or worse, an elitist asshole”

You exhale, unable to sustain the look in his eyes. “It’s not my place and definitely none of my business. But please know I really didn’t mean—”

“Fuck” he curses under his breath, cutting you off abruptly “you’re making it very fucking hard for me”

Disoriented, you cock your head.

“I’m making what hard?”

Eren plants his palms onto the counter, on either side of your hips, body inching forward. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, forehead dangerously close to be leaned against your own. You can’t resist the urge to gently nudge the tip of his nose with yours, an insignificant gesture that somehow has him sucking a sharp breath in. You’d love to giggle, the teasing question does kindness turn you on? dancing on the tip of your tongue but then his tongue is peeking out to wet his bottom lip a second before he leans forward and traces the soft edge of your neck with the tip of his nose. His mouth follows along somehow, not quite kissing your skin but certainly grazing it, anticipation having your breath quicken.

“You said we should be friends” you whisper, regretting it right away. Eren emits a frustrated huff, breath hot on the neck his parted lips are still gently exploring.

“I said we’d be good friends. And we can be” he places his hands on your thighs, a touch so incandescent the thin fabric of your skirt may as well not be there at all “friends who do this” and just like that he finally closes the gap between you two, capturing your lips in a burning kiss that draws a sigh of relief as you pull him closer. He tastes like the ocean, the strands you have buried your fingers into not as soft as the night before, rendered dry by the salt he still hasn’t washed out.

Eren is an eager kisser, right as his grip on your thighs tightens his tongue is languidly slipping past your parted lips with a satisfied hum vibrating in his chest. Head tilted into yours, he kisses you so hard you think your lips might bruise, he kisses you until you start getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen and he does too, although he wouldn’t mind challenging something as silly as the chance of his organs shutting down if it meant keeping his lips moving against yours and having your hands cradling his face.

You break apart first, a panting, breathless mess when you rest your forehead on the curve of his shoulder. He relaxes the grip on your legs, chest heaving with the depth of his own ragged breaths. So long for self-restraint.

“I meant it” he whispers and you find it in yourself to lift your head and meet his gaze “I didn’t invite you here to—”

“Lure me back into your bed?”

Eren senses the playfulness laced into your tone and smiles.

“Yeah”

When he attempts to take a step back, you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him in place. Except he doesn’t offer any resistance, allowing you to effortlessly pull him closer until he’s flush against the counter and the tip of his nose grazes your cheek.

“I know” you mutter, honest “and I appreciate that. But, if you’re down, I’d really like to take that shower with you”

A beat passes.

Two days of knowing you and Eren thinks you hold all the right tools to drive him absolutely insane already.

PART 2

[thekrakenlolz]

Start up Fic - Ellie Williams x Reader

part 2

Summary: You switch dorms at your boarding school after you and your girlfriend go through a messy break up and you no longer can handle being roommates with her. Only your new one is a different kind of problem

a/n: I wrote the first chapter only to realize I have no idea what comes next. So here's my plan: if y'all like the set up, you can give me suggestions for what you want to happen next. I basically just laid down the base. So you can read it if you want and see if you have any ideas. But just as a warning, I'm not gonna write smut without a plot, I'm not about that life. I have a vague idea of what I can put next but it's very cliche and overdone sooooo yeah, thanx in advance<3

Also, English is my third language so expect bad grammar

°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-

Your eyes wandered over the walls as you walked along them. The paint was starting to flake off, revealing the concrete underneath. Your school was old. Like old, old. Like Victorian ages old. Something most of your friends scoffed over, but you personally liked. You thought it gave it character. Of course a little bit of a touch up wouldn't hurt, but bathroom doors that are actually still attached to the stall hinges were overrated anyways.

You were following Miss Jenkins, your housemother, hunched over as you were balancing three of your bags on your back. Uncomfortable, yes, but you were trying to minimize the amount of trips you had to make to move all your shit over to your new dorm. Anything to avoid seeing Samira more than absolutely fucking necessary.

"Here we are" Miss Jenkins sighed, stopping in front of one of the gray doors. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes. You were still pissed that you had to put in 4 requests over the duration of 2 months before they finally assigned you a new room, but now she was acting like she was doing you a huge favor. Like taking 15 minutes out of her day was so much to ask for. But you kept it down, thanking her again before opening the door and stepping in.

The lengthy process of actually getting a new room gave you plenty of time to stress over who your new roommate would be. This girl, however, didn't even come to mind. You weren't even sure what her name was, your social circle and her's didn't interact much. E-something? Or was it L?

Mystery girl was sitting at her desk, headphones in, and carefully shading out something in her notebook. You noticed she had tucked her left leg under her, a bad habit you also possessed. She didn't register your presence, her eyes still fixed on the paper. You threw your bags next to your bed, which finally caught her attention. "Oh fuck" she jumped up from the desk and hurried over to your bed, picking up the stuff she dumped on it. "Hello to you too" you mused.

Sweatshirts, textbooks and pencils started flying over onto her bed. "I'm sorry, I thought I had until Sunday to get my shit off your side" She explained, tossing a hairbrush across the small room. You watched it hit the wall and fall down onto her Zelda themed sheets. Cute, you noted. "No worries, take your time, I still have stuff to move over"

So you were back in the hallway, slowly but surely making your way back to your old dorm and with that, to Samira. Now that you were by yourself, you took the time to think about your new roommate. You still didn't know her name but one thing was for certain: she was incredible looking.

Her thick straight auburn hair cut off above the shoulders and her cheeks were densely dotted with freckles. She was very toned, especially in the arms. She was probably in the lacrosse team.

You did notice she was more on the masculine side, so might maybe even be gay. You full stopped, forcing yourself to remember, that's exactly the type of shit that got you in your current situation in the first place. No fucking your roommate, dude, we talked about this.

--------

You took a moment to collect yourself before entering your old room. You drew a breath in, scanning the ugly grey door that separated you and her. 12B the lettering read, touched up with some sharpie. You reached for the knob.

She was sitting at her desk, scrolling on her phone and demonstratively ignoring your presence. You bit down on the inside of your cheek. This wasn't what you expected. Somehow you preferred another stupid fight over this new silence.

You stacked two backpacks on one arm and three bags on the other. The weight made your walk out rather inelegant. You stopped in the doorway. "Goodbye Sami."

You could practically feel her hesitate.

"Bye."

[totheblood]

superposition. (four)

pairing: dealer!ellie x best friend!reader

summary: a flashback to when ellie and petal first met...they hang out in a bathroom for some reason?

warnings: 18+, no smut! (i'm sorry it's just necessary for the plot) cursing, drug/alcohol mention and use, cheating if u squint

a/n: i am so sorry but this chapter has no smut and yes that was a decision i made on purpose, it will be back and i am already working on it so don't be mad at me.. this chapter is important for the plot and is mainly from ellie's point of view. also there are ai audios but they are not ... nasty... cause no smut! also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses

wc: 2.9k

masterlist for previous chapters

"why don't we rely on chemistry?"

It was decided, Ellie wanted to crawl inside your chest and live there forever. 

She can’t remember a time she’s felt this involved with someone, this desperate for another person’s touch. Any free space of her mind was taken up by you, by your smell, the way your skin felt under her fingertips. There was only you. 

Ellie had always fantasized about this being a reality. About you leaning into her, delicately murmuring her name onto her flesh, coming undone on top of her several nights in a row, but she never expected it would hurt as much as it did. Every time you rushed out the door, fixing your hair in the mirror before you went, or she checked your location and saw that you were at some new restaurant or bar, her heart sank to her chest. 

She was unsure of what she expected when she first kissed you. She knew it was a bad idea, that nothing could come from it that would stop the swirling in her stomach when it came to you. The pit in her stomach could only be filled by you, by being on, around, or inside you. 

Ellie had met you during her junior year in high school when she was just starting to discover herself. She always knew she liked girls but before she turned 16 she had never kissed one. Everything about her was more chaotic at 16, her freckles seeming more scattered and auburn hair always slightly messy. She had been falling behind in most of her classes, except physics, and found herself not sleeping. She was an overly anxious kid with a mind that never stopped turning until she met you. 

Jackson was a small town with an even smaller high school; everyone had some connection to someone. So when you sauntered into class, with shaking hands gripping the straps of your backpack unsure of where to sit, Ellie had offered you Dina’s seat. She told herself she was just being kind and it wasn’t because Ellie’s brain came to a halt when she saw you, which was wildly untrue. Dina cursed her out for giving you her seat, but when she grew to know you she understood.

Ellie was soccer captain, the one sport that the high school had for girls. When her body was moving she wasn’t thinking, all she could think was: ball, net, don’t trip, you? You slipped into her mind when she was on the field, looking up and seeing you perched on the bleachers, a book in your hand. Upon seeing you, she smiled to herself, but that smile was quickly wiped off her face as another girl on the team bumped into her, shaking her from her thoughts.

She approached you after practice, wiping the sweat from her forehead and briefly smelling her pits before getting too close. Your legs crossed over each other as you hummed, flipping the pages in the worn-down book and not noticing Ellie’s presence. 

“Hey,” she grinned, hands coming forward to lean on the rail of the bleachers as she looked up at you, “came to watch me practice?”

“You wish,” you giggled, tucking your book into your backpack, “needed to find a quiet place to read. Not much action on the field.”

Ellie faked a gasp and rolled her eyes, hoping her face wouldn’t betray her but it did. The sweet blush crept up on her face as her eyes blinked at you, what a tease, she thought. 

“Talking a lot of shit for someone who probably can’t make a goal,” she replied, making the playfulness in her voice evident. It was your turn to fake a gasp as your hand came over your chest. 

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I was goal champion back in New York,” you added a bit of cockiness to your voice, fully knowing you were faking it.

“Goal champion?” 

“Yup.”

“Never heard of it.” Ellie laughed, shaking her head before turning back and seeing the field empty. The sun was going to set soon, nighttime just around the corner. She usually hated walking home in the dark, but decided she wanted more time with you. Any amount would do. “Wanna show me your moves, goal champion?” 

“I don’t think you could handle it,” you giggled, picking your bag up and walking down the steps to the field. 

“Try me,” Ellie looked back at you, a shit-eating grin on her face as she ran onto the field. The night was spent with you trying, and failing, to make one goal against Ellie. She giggled as you made one goal and threw your hands up in the air chanting ‘goal champion’. She decided to never tell you that she let you make that goal. Her smile never left her face and for a brief moment in time she wasn’t thinking about all the work she had to do, or how she was going to do it, or how Joel would react when he found out she failed her Algebra test, she was just happy. She slept like a baby that night thinking of the sound of your laugh. 

She kept her crush on you secret, letting it fizzle out slowly. Every sleepover the two of you had, the fear that if you found out about her crush on you that you would think she was a creep crept up the back of Ellie’s neck. It was a fear that wasn’t exclusive to you, but the rest of her feelings were. The way you sat posed for her, smiling with your teeth on display as she painted a portrait of you for art class created a new feeling she had for you, and only you. She couldn’t name it but she believed it was love. 

When you came around to look at the finished product, you gasped. Ellie had painted you with flowers coming out of your hair, tulips, lilies, and roses surrounding you. You never believed you could look that beautiful, but it was how Ellie saw you. Your mouth hung open as you gasped, eyes taking in the artwork and glossing over with tears. The pink, orange, and red hues adorning your pictured face. 

“Ellie, this is-” Your mouth fell open again, eyes too shy to meet her. 

“You like it?” Ellie asked nervously, eyes darting between you and the painting. 

“I, I love it, Ellie,” then a smile was on your face from ear to ear, “I didn’t know I could look so beautiful… and the flowers I mean?”

“The flowers are meant to represent you,” Ellie’s voice was small as she looked up at you, “beautiful and delicate.”

When you beamed at her and brought a finger to trace the lines of her art she was sure she melted. It was over for her. Every waking moment would be now spent trying to get that reaction out of you. That was the day she began calling you ‘Petal’, her own face blushing at the memory. 

Her plan had always been you, even when she wasn’t sure she was making a plan. So when you and Malia had become ‘Instagram official’ she couldn’t stop herself from keeling over and throwing up into the trash can she kept beside her bed. She didn’t feel like she was going to be sick, she was just sick. 

There was jealousy, and then there was whatever Ellie was feeling right now. It was almost a blind rage. She knew she didn’t have any claim to you, but didn’t she? It was her fingers, her lap, and her mouth that you came onto, not your ‘girlfriend’s’ and Ellie made sure of that. 

She didn’t feel the need to call you for two days after seeing the post. She texted you to let you know she was sick, which wasn’t technically untrue, and you texted her back a sad face paired with a message to get better before the formal on Saturday insisting that you couldn’t do it alone. She wanted to reply with some snarky comment about why your girlfriend couldn’t take you, but she refrained. 

The upcoming formal was something you attended for Dina and Jesse’s sake. It provided an excuse for you to wear a fancy dress while also providing a large and willing customer base for Ellie. These things were boring, and at most became fun when the music got slightly more uptempo. The point was to raise money for the fraternities, not shake your ass in front of your classmates. 

Despite how excruciating these things felt, you and Ellie had gone together for the past two years. She always wore a suit and tucked your pink flask into the pocket inside her jacket, spiking your drink whenever you flashed her the signal. What started out as a boring night always ended with you and Ellie in a fit of giggles on the bench outside the venue. It was one of those traditions that you continued to look forward to.

Ellie showed up that night, a tequila-filled flask pressed tightly against her shirt. She even felt bold enough to wear a bowtie. She waited in the lobby of the venue, occasionally staring at her feet as she waited for you to arrive. She expected to drive you but you told her that you would come on your own. That alone should have raised some flags. 

You showed up with Malia, her arm linked with yours. Ellie's green eyes widened but she had to maintain her composure as you approached her with a giant smile plastered on your face and arms open for a hug. She took you in, breathing in your scent which now felt unfamiliar to her. You smelt like pink pepper, Malia was rubbing off on you. Ellie shivered at the thought. 

“Malia,” your voice was sweet and sing-songy, “this is Ellie, my best friend.” You gestured to Ellie who reached out her hand to Malia, a smile on her face that said ‘I’ve fucked your girlfriend, in fact, I took her virginity and I felt good doing it’ but only she knew that. 

“Nice to meet you, Ellie,” Malia said as she shook Ellie’s hand, her own warm smile on her face, “this one’s told me so much about you.” Internally, Ellie scoffed. 

Ellie wanted to hate Malia, and for the most part, she did. She was objectively beautiful and had this aura around her that made things in the room glow. Everyone who knew her always raved about how kind and caring she was, you being one of them. Ellie wanted to hate her, but more than that she wanted you to be happy. Malia made you happy. She had to like her. 

“Same here,” Ellie shook her hand before pulling it back. Her eyes glanced to the door of the room the event was being hosted in, classical music seeping from the walls. “Should we go in?” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you smiled as you took Malia’s hand in your own and walked towards the room. Ellie followed after, feeling like a third wheel. This was the night that your tradition would die. 

Ellie had to make some quick exchanges and so she had to reluctantly leave you. She didn’t want you to get too comfortable without her, but she had a job to do. When she returned she found you and Malia on the dance floor and had to actively ignore how much she wanted to throw up again. 

Ellie leaned back against the cold metal backing of the chair as she watched you and Malia dance in the center of the room. You looked like you were having fun, laughing and throwing your head back as Malia whispered something in your ear. Malia’s hand was on the small of your back, mine, Ellie thought. Her lips grazed the shell of your ear, mine, Ellie’s mind rang again. Her hand moved down to rest at the top of your ass, min-

Fuck it, Ellie thought, as she got up and stormed out of the room. She found herself in the ladies' room, eating the mints that were in a bowl by the sink and taking swigs of the liquor she bought for you. The bathroom surprisingly smelt nice and some lady handed Ellie a five, thinking she was the bathroom attendant, and tipping her. She didn’t even try to correct her, she just thanked her by nodding her head and opening the door for the woman. Easy five bucks.

Then you were pushing through the door, looking underneath the stalls, and locking the bathroom door behind you. Ellie was so flustered she didn’t even know what to do. She just stood up straight as she watched your movements carefully. 

“Hi?” she questioned, eyeing you with a confused look on her face. 

“You brought the tequila?” You questioned, your eyes wide and frantic, glancing down to her chest where you knew the flask was. 

“Oh, um-” Ellie’s fingers pulled the flask out and handed it to you. She watched you intently as you took a giant swig, attempting to pretend she couldn’t read you like a book. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m a shitty fucking girlfriend.”

“No, you-”

“Yes, I am,” you sighed, leaning your head back against the wall, hitting it with a cold thud. You were about to groan in pain when someone tried opening the door. “It’s fucking occupied!”

“Jesus, Petal,” Ellie cursed under her breath as she watched you take another swig from the flask. 

“I just, I can’t do it,” your eyes looked glossed over, Ellie had to stop herself from pulling you into her arms, “She’s just so nice, and every time she tries to… you know, I just can’t.”

“Is she pressuring you?” Ellie’s voice had a bite to it as she crossed her arms across her face. Her eyebrows knit together and her mouth was in a permanent frown.

“No!” you quickly assured her, “not at all. She’s actually been really nice about it and I have no idea why I can’t just go all the way with her.”

“You’re not ready,” Ellie’s voice was softer now, “that’s okay. You don’t have to be.”

“Then why…” you took another deep breath, avoiding eye contact with her, “why am I ready to do it with you?”

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat, the words getting lost on her. She wanted to speak or to lean forward and kiss you, but she couldn’t. She was a lot of things, crass, rude, occasionally a bitch but the area that was once grey was now so clearly black. You had a girlfriend, and if she kissed you, she would be a homewrecker. She couldn’t speak, but she could whisper your name. It sounded like an apology. 

“Ellie, I know you were just being a good friend but I think you ruined me.”

“What?”

“You’ve ruined me for anyone else. Every time I kiss her, it’s just…” Your hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “It’s not you, and I can’t understand why that’s so disappointing.”

“I’m not,” Ellie breathed out the words, eyes staring at the floor, “I’m not a homewrecker, Petal. I can’t keep doing this.” 

“I know,” you took a step closer to her, causing her eyes to look back up at you. She looked so sad, or conflicted, you were having trouble reading her, “I know you’re not, I’m sorry.”

“Do you like me?”

“Of course, I like you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters to me.” Her voice was louder now as she attempted not to choke. She knew the liquor was giving her the confidence to do this, but also knew that it would give you the push you needed to be honest.

“Do you like me?” 

“Yes,” Ellie answered quickly, too quickly. You took a step back from her causing her to shrink almost immediately. This was the first time in her life she felt like she couldn’t read what was going on inside your head, “I like you, not as friends or any of that crap. I like you more than I like myself, more than I like anyone, and now that I know what it’s like to kiss you… I can’t go back to being your friend.”

“Ellie-”

“And you know this has been really shitty for me. This was supposed to be our night and you bought your girlfriend?” She took her own step back, leaning against the counter of the sink. “And I know this is my fault, I shouldn’t have kissed you or,” she made a weird gesture with her hand, “done any of that. I know but, it’s you, Petal. I would do anything for you. I will do anything for you, except for this.”

“Ellie, I-” your voice was cut off by the sound of your name being called from the other side of the door. It was like reality had hit the both of you and immediately you were both sober, “I have to go.”

“Of course you do.” Ellie rolled her eyes, moving back to sit on the bathroom counter. She watched as your nervous eyes scanned her and you turned around to open the door, hand stilling over the lock. Quickly, you turned around and hurried over to her and pressing a kiss at the side of her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed at the feel of your lips so close to her again. She was fucking losing it. 

“We’ll talk about it?” You whispered, mouth still close to hers, “I have to go but can we please talk about it later?”

Ellie nodded, eyes still closed. She heard you breathe a sigh of relief before opening the door and leaving. She only opened her eyes when she knew you were gone, letting the tear slip down her cheek.  

ai audios:

[sunnyrealist]

Let's Talk about Sebastian's Parents

I recently needed to write about Mr. and Mrs. Sallow for my fanfic, and because there is very little information out there, I had to invent a lot of backstory as to who they were and what life was like for the Sallow family prior to their deaths.

I'm so curious to know what headcanons others in the fandom have created about them. It would be interesting if some of us had similar thoughts. If you're willing, would you share your own ideas via comment or reblog? Thanks!

I threw in a little preview above of one of my many commissions from @giselsann-opencommissions that I've been sitting on for quite some time. I don't usually post them until I get to the plot points they depict. This one is close enough - I'll show the entire thing real soon.

Before I get to my headcanons, this is what Hogwarts Legacy: The Official Game Guide has to say about Sebastian's parents (see last paragraph):

Here is the background I created for my fic:

Their names were Samuel and Selina (Ware) Sallow. Their family and friends called them Sam and Lina.

They were both pureblood and the same age.

They met at Hogwarts. Sam was in Slytherin, and Lina was in Ravenclaw.

When they were students, they were academic rivals - not "enemies," per se, but they were not exactly friends until they were assigned as partners for a project in Potions during their seventh year. They realized how similar they were and fell in love.

They got married very quickly after graduation but didn't have Anne and Sebastian until they were older (around 30).

The two of them eventually became teachers at Hogwarts. Sam taught Magical Theory (predecessor to Professor Fig), and Lina taught Defense Against the Dark Arts (predecessor to Professor Hecat). They were experts in their fields.

They moved to Aranshire when they became professors. I believe they lived in the spider house in Hogwarts Legacy (there's actually evidence to back this up). It was FILLED with books to the point that it was practically a library.

The cellar was their workspace, and the twins knew that when their parents were down there that they were not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency.

Both of the Sallows were incredibly studious and conducted a lot of research in their spare time. They sometimes teamed up to study particular subjects, such as defensive magical theory and love as a form of magic in its purest form. They didn't view Dark magic as inherently evil, just as everyday magic is not always perfectly good.

Mr. and Mrs. Sallow were quite lovey-dovey. Sebastian remembers them reading in front of the fireplace, engrossed in their own books, but always holding hands or touching. He also remembers being grossed out as a little boy by how often they would kiss.

Neither of them had big families, and just about all of their family members had passed by the time the twins were born. Solomon Sallow was their only living relative at the time of their deaths.

They took the twins to Hogwarts often during summer breaks, so they had a head start on learning the lay of the land and the school's curriculum. Sam and Lina had them read some of their textbooks prior to their first year so that they could get the most out of their education.

They wanted the twins to be well-rounded, so they taught them multiple languages. Lina considered music a language and taught them how to play piano. She also would sing them a song every night when she put them to bed.

Lina was exceptionally gentle, despite her interest in magical combat, Dark magic, Dark creatures, etc. She tended to coddle and fuss over the children. Every year on their birthday, she would bake a spice cake with vanilla icing. She was proficient in both Muggle and magical healing. Her nicknames for Sebastian and Anne were "little prince" and "little princess" - "the little twin rulers."

As far as looks, Sebastian takes after Lina, who had curly auburn hair and freckles. While Anne got a few of Lina's freckles, her hair is similar to Sam's.

Sam loved to give the twins sweets behind their mother's back. He had a distinct laugh and enjoyed reading stories aloud and "doing the voices." He taught the kids how to play Quidditch; he had once been a beater. When he traveled for his studies and would come home with unique artifacts and new information, he would share all of it with the twins in plain language, never talking down to them. I see Sam as an Atticus Finch kind of father.

Christmas was a simple affair. They'd have Uncle Solomon over for dinner, and he would leave pretty quickly after dessert (he and Sam were not close and disagreements were frequent). The twins were always gifted two items: a new book and something particularly interesting, useful, or coveted.

They liked animals and had an Old English Sheepdog named Endy (short for Endymion).

Again, I would love to hear your headcanons. Are yours similar or completely different from mine? Sound off in the comments or reblog! I love discussions like this.

[crimsonred-hi]

Da, it’s Da

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Reader

Warnings: children. Children are scary.

Summary: in Ireland and the northern parts of England (where I’m from), a child would never call their father ‘daddy’, for the mere thought of ‘Daddy is for gals with issues and gay men with bigger issues’ (which is true). So, I believe Andrew would want to be called ‘Da’ like most other fathers… so yeah, Andrew arguing with his and Reader’s child about what the child should call him.

She walks into the house, after being for the weekly food shopping, and he can here Andrew and Mavis (yes, because you can’t say no to Andrew, and he wanted to name her after Mavis Staples) arguing loudly.

“No, Mavis! I won’t answer to ‘daddy’, I refuse! Just call me ‘Da’ like everyone else!”

He sounds so pained when saying ‘daddy’, he, like most Irish fathers, hate that word, and it’s only made worse from how much the word is used in on the internet.

“No! I want to call you what I want!”

She hear the sound of her baby’s voice, with an Irish accent she gained from her father, yelling back at him.

Y/n slowly walks into the front room their in,

“What are you two arguing about?”

And now they’re both yelling at you, yelling about who’s in the right, so you move to Andrew, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“What’s happening, Andy?”

“The lass is refusin to Call me Da! She wants to call me…. ya know the word…”

Mavis gasps, shocked at her mother moving towards her father, taking her dad’s side.

“Mammy! Why are you siding with him?”

She looks down at her daughter, smiling down at her, Andrew kisses the side of his wife’s head.

“I’m with ya Da on everything, we’re a team.”

She says pulling her tongue at her daughter, y/n and Andrew laugh warmly with each other, Andrew presses a little kiss to the side of her head as he holds her, looking down at their daughter.

“Why do I have to call him Da?”

“Because that’s what he wants you to call him, you’re gonna have to respect that, honey.”

She says softly, moving forward and kissing her daughter’s head, and their daughter crosses her arms storming off to her room. She looks back at Andrew,

“You tried… she’ll get it one day, Andy.”

She says, pushing him back, until there’s sitting on the couch together, cuddled up, waiting for their daughter to come back on her own.

___

“Do you think we’re good at this parenting thing?”

His question makes her look up at him,

“Yeah, I recon we’re doing ok…. Why?”

“Just… I’m worried… I mean, I’ve just had an argument with our child about what she should call me… it feels silly…”

She sighs, took his hair behind his ear, and moving her hand down to his beard, giving him scratches on his beard.

“We’re doing the best we can… she’ll appreciate it when she’s older.”

“Are ya sure…?”

“Yeah, Andy… I’m sure.”

He sighs, leaning back into the couch.

___

After a while, Mavis comes back out of her room, coming downstairs and looking up at her father,

“I’m sorry, da, I was being rude…”

Andrew looks at his wife, shocked at their child admitting that, and doing what she was asked to. He picks her up, bringing her to sit on the couch with them, he kisses her cheeks,

“It’s alright, angle… it’s alright…”

Y/n smiles at the pair, with their curly, auburn hair and their smiles. Mavis has Andrew’s crooked smile from before he fixed it, she’s adorable. They’re an adorable pair, father and daughter.

Their perfect.

[emkayewrites]

OK - another BTS of Bridgerton Season 3 moment in my Lukola fanfic. Luke and Nicola rehearsing THAT sex scene.

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

12th October 2022 – Buckinghamshire (UK)

Of all the rehearsal spaces they had been able to inhabit so far, this was one of the grandest.  In another lifetime, this had been the nursery for the Victorian family who lived here.  Attesting to this history were the period features: dark wood floorboards and panelled emerald-green walls.  These days, the room stood largely empty apart from the heavy green curtains that framed the bay windows and a blue chaise longue that the production team had positioned in the centre.  A purple blanket was messily strewn across the chaise longue.

Luke and Nicola sat cross-legged on the floor beside the piece of furniture, a script cradled in each of their laps.  They were both dressed casually, Luke in dark jogging bottoms and a white-shirt, and Nicola in black leggings and tank top.  Lizzy sat opposite them, wrapped in an oversized maroon cardigan, her auburn curls pulled up into a high ponytail. She tapped the end of a ballpoint pen thoughtfully against her bottom lip as she scanned her own copy of the script.

“OK, so, do we want a break or do we want to move onto the next section?”  She surveyed them.

“I’m happy to carry on for a bit.” Luke responded. 

Nicola nodded in agreement, her eyes catching the clock by the door as she did so. She was surprised to see that they had been working for nearly four hours without interruption.  They were deep into a process that Lizzy called negotiating your boundaries.   This meant that their morning had been spent walking through their intimate scenes and figuring out exactly how they would enact them.  Lizzy was there to facilitate them as they maneuvered through the challenging dialogue and actions.  Every single touch was discussed, choreographed, and evaluated in explicit detail. 

Initially, Nicola had walked in feeling slightly on edge and she knew Luke was going through the same motions.  Neither of them had ever worked in scenes where they had to portray sexual acts in such excruciating detail and the idea of doing things like working out the mechanics of digital penetration had been daunting.  Yet, they had done exactly this for several hours and to her surprise, it had been one of the most enriching and comfortable experiences she had ever had in a rehearsal.  It had felt tough but only in the same way coordinating steps to a dance routine could feel tough.  There was something about Lizzy’s gentle manner and her assuredness that made even the most intense scripted action seem manageable.  Most of all, there was Luke.  She had not known she could feel this comfortable with a co-star until they had started working on the sex scenes.  Luke was gentle and respectful.  As they directed one another, step by step, through kisses and touching, Nicola forgot for a moment that anyone else was in the room, observing.  He made her feel like they were the only two people in the room which was exactly how she needed to feel to really embody her character in those scenes. 

It was also a consuming process.  The only thing they had to care about was one another and the performance they were there to deliver.  The rest of the world fell away.  It was just what she needed, and she was happy to surrender herself entirely to the work.

“Great.” Lizzy smiled. “Let’s go from line 347 to 523.”

Nicola shuffled herself up onto the chaise longue, and Luke moved so that he was a few steps away from her.

Lizzy held up the script and read: “We have our rear view of Colin - pun-intended -as he stands before Penelope, fully exposed and vulnerable.”

Nicola looked up at Luke, he faced her with his back to Lizzy.  He stood tall and stiff.  He was so good at playing the character that even without a single line of dialogue, he exuded Colin. 

Lizzy continued reading: “Penelope leans back on the chaise longue, a blanket draped across naked body, tastefully obscuring her breasts, abdomen, and upper thighs.  She looks up at Colin as he approaches, her face is a mixture of hopeful anticipation and nerves.”

Nicola arched her back against the chaise longue, pulling the blanket across her chest, stomach, and thighs as she did so.  Luke’s eyes travelled across her body, a shy smile on his face.  She met his expression with a look of excitement and nerves.  All Penelope wants in this moment is for him to be right next to her, for him to touch her. 

“OK next - Colin gently peels the blanket back, takes in her naked body.” Lizzy directed, watching as Luke walked three small yet purposeful steps towards Nicola.  He reached forward and gently tugged the blanket away, his hand caressing her stomach as he did so.  Although she was not naked, she imagined she was, and let out a small gasp at her own sudden exposure.  His eyes scanned over her stomach, along her breasts and then into her eyes.  He did the thing most men did when they looked at her breasts, he lingered.  It was brief but noticeable.   It was hard in moments like this one to forget that this was an attractive young man pressed on top of her. 

Penelope is aching for him to be on her, in her. Nicola thought, trying to keep her focus.  She felt her heart race.  In that moment, a part of her ached for him to hurry up and touch her.  She could not explain what the feeling was or why it was there, only that it had been present all morning and it had made the work much easier.  When their skin touched, when she felt his breath against her, it felt good.  To her, this was a win.  She was doing sex scenes with someone and enjoying them.  Is this not what acting should be?  She was getting something right.       

“He leans over her, tugging the blanket over them so their dignity is covered. The entire time, their eyes remain locked.”

Here, Luke moved so that he was leaning on top of her, supporting his body weight with his own arms.  She watched as he tried to pull the blanket over them in one smooth motion but instead, struggled.  It was hard for him to support his body weight with only one arm and adjust the blanket with the other.  This scuffle continued, becoming less sensual and more comical as the seconds passed.

“Sorry – it’s either I move the blanket and crush you, or I don’t move the blanket.” Luke sighed in exasperation, sitting back up.

“Can I help him?” Nicola looked over at Lizzy.

Lizzy gave them a thoughtful look.  “Let’s give it a go. From the top.”

Once again, Luke appeared on top of her, using one arm to hold himself up and the other to tend to the blanket.  They stared deep into each other’s eyes as they did.  Nicola felt around for the blanket, trying not to break eye contact as she did, and felt the cotton fabric scrape her fingertips.  She shuffled herself further down to try to reach, still trying to maintain the intensity of their gaze.  Luke’s face began to contort from lovelorn to amused, eventually making him break character.

“What are you doing?” He laughed incredulously. “All I’m seeing is you slipping further down and away.”

She sat up. “I was trying to reach the blanket, I’m too bloody short!”

This made all three of them laugh.

“Alright, so that doesn’t work.” Lizzy stated. She took her pen and began to scribble.  “How about we make a slight edit…?  Out of shot, Colin tugs the blanket over them, so their dignity is covered.  The camera holds on their faces.  There we go, movie magic!  They can adjust it off-camera.”

“I’m happy with that.” Luke agreed.

“I think that could look really beautiful.” Nicola added. “They keep their eyes on each other whilst the action happens below.  It’s sexier.”

“Yeah, a tight close-up on the face Nic was making right then– that would be really sexy.” Luke said the words in a matter-of-fact tone but nonetheless, Nicola felt her face flush.  

“Oh, you’ve got Nicola blushing.” Lizzy laughed.

“I mean Penelope’s face. Which is also Nicola’s face. You know what I mean!” Luke continued, a little self-conscious. “That expression you’re making is really hot.”

“Keep talking like that Luke and you’ll get me into bed for real.” Nicola retorted, making all three of them laugh once again.

This was the thing about intimate scenes.  Things got intimate.  It was inevitable.  There was nothing to be done about it except to have a good sense of humour and to use the awkward emotions to create a great scene.  She also had to admit to herself that she agreed with Luke’s vision of the scene.  There was something incredibly sexy about their characters holding each other’s gaze so intently as they touched each other in the most intimate parts.  She tried not to let her mind wonder into thinking about what that said about Luke and his sex life. 

“The only note I have so far is maybe some more breathlessness from Penelope?” Lizzy queried. “That and her expression changing from sort of stunned to really keen - it definitely heats up the scene. What do you think?”

“Sure, why not?  I’ll remember to bring my inhaler.” Nicola joked.

“Alright… then we go from 401. ” Lizzy returned to the script.

Nicola leaned back again, and Luke looked down at her, his waist was pressed slightly against her abdomen, but his legs were positioned to the other side of hers.  It was not as intimate as the real soon would be when it was eventually filmed in front of a camera.  Then, his legs would be between hers, and there would be a protective cover between them to prevent any touch there.  Regardless, she noticed him taking great pains to keep his parts down there away from her down there. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Luke whispered to her, his face sincere and serious.

“Penelope is overwhelmed by love for him.  She pulls him towards her, crushing their mouths together in an intensely passionate kiss.”

Nicola broke from the scene to look back over at Lizzy: “So, tongues?”

“That is entirely up to you and Luke.” Lizzy smiled.

“He’s already slipping one body part in, what’s another?” Luke smirked.

Nicola pulled a face. “Ugh, don’t say it like that.”

“Sorry, I’ll rephrase.” He looked at her apologetically, and then reached a hand across to push a strand of hair that was creeping into her eyes back behind her ear.  It felt surprisingly intimate, almost inappropriate, perhaps because this was an action by Luke, not Colin. 

He gave her a small mocking smile and spoke in Colin’s voice. “Penelope, can I interest you in duel of the tongues?”

Nicola followed suit, speaking as sweet, wide-eyed Penelope. “A duel?”  A steely look crossed her eyes as she returned to her usual Irish accent. “I want your tongue boxing my tonsils – go deep, lad!”

The remark had its desired effect.  Luke buried his head into her shoulder as he shook with laughter.  If it had been anyone else’s hot breath on her neck, their mouth suspiciously close to her chest, she would have been quick to pull back politely but firmly.  Yet, she did not mind this one bit - it felt like being embraced by a broad-shouldered cuddly bear.  She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and pull him in closer.  Again, she reflected on how it could seem so strange that they were so physically comfortable with one another, but she was sure this was normal when you filmed such scenes.  She was not sure many outside their industry would understand though.

She took the opportunity to mimic panting noises and asked Lizzy: “Are we doing it right? The sex?”

This made Luke laugh even harder.

They were a ridiculous sight; Luke with his head nuzzled into her shoulder, in a fit of giggles, and Nicola panting like a dog.

Lizzy laughed through her eye roll.  “Oh yes, this would be great for the Nature channel.”

You can read more here: Curtain Fall. Fair warning: this is a slow-burn Lukola romance that spans several years in the vein of friends-to-lovers. If you do want to read from the start, please be patient! There are 50 planned chapters and we are only on 17.

[katewritesthings]

Learning to Deal

So, I've never written fic before, so please be kind. I've had to drink a bottle of wine to finish the smut and gain the courage to post. Please be funny when you tell me this sucks. :D (I also have ideas for a few more short blurbs in this universe)

•pairing: Joe Burrow x Original Female Character

•summary: Caroline Stevens had been known to the fans of the Bengals' as Sam Hubbard's best friend since he got drafted. Now she's dating his teammate Joe Burrow and must navigate the logistics that come with that

•word count: 4.3k

•warnings: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. Slight angst. Angry Sex. Dom/Sub dynamics. Slight Daddy Kink. Light choking. Ass smacking. Cursing. Drinking. Cannabis Use. Lots of other stuff. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Caroline Steven was sure she’d never get used to how overwhelming being a plus one to an NFL starter could be. Since her childhood best friend, Sam, had been drafted by their hometown football team, she’d attended her fair share of over-the-top events with budgets bigger than her teaching salary. (That is, when Sam happened to be single and his mother was not an appropriate option.) This routine would be coming to an end shortly, though.

Over the last year, Caroline had started seeing one of Sam’s teammates, Joe. Meaning that the next time they walked into a jungle-themed room, she would be on the arm of the man she wanted to walk in with, and Sam would not be hindered in attempting to fix his single status. (at least for the night).

Although he was one of the most private (read: shy) people Caroline had ever met, Joe somehow managed to become the face of the Bengals. Seriously, the guy was so closed off when she first met him that Caroline was convinced Joe hated her. It wasn’t that Caroline disliked the fact that her boyfriend was charismatic enough to become a franchise player; she just hated the legalities that came with it. 

It would only take the entire next Monday arguing with the agents and publicists that the NFL and Bengals put together to officially be Dating Joe Burrow™. Caroline was more than ready to be able to claim the beautiful man she grew to love as her boyfriend, but she knew that Joe was a little more hesitant about what compromises they were going to have to make as a couple to get this approved through the league. There were whispers about using their anniversary to make sponsored posts already.

Walking into the banquet hall the Bengals had rented at Moerlein Lager House, Caroline scanned the room for her boyfriend. While they had texted a few times throughout the day, their conversation before Joe dropped her off yesterday had been acting… off. Joe seemed a little put off about having to use his personal life for marketing, but Caroline hoped he saw her as worth it. The two made their way to a table to the left of the entrance, where champagne flutes were set out for guests to take. 

“Calm down, Stevie." Sam’s voice brought her back to reality, using her childhood nickname. “I really don’t think Danny Devito is here; there’s no need for such excitement.” “You’re such a goober!” Caroline chuckled, pushing a stray auburn curl out of her eyes. “I just wanted to see if I could see Joe. You act like it wasn’t you who set us up, don’t act like you’re annoyed with how we act together.” 

Before Sam could spit a comeback at Caroline, two arms wrapped around her middle and squeezed her tight. Joe’s deep voice boomed, “Hey, babe," before kissing her on the cheek and greeting Sam. Ja’Marr, Irv, and Tee. joined the three, drinks in hand. Greetings were exchanged before Ja’Marr nudged Caroline.

“Damn, girl. I didn’t know your Ms. Frizzle ass had dresses that didn’t have dinosaurs and shit on them.” With an eye-roll, Caroline pulled at the hem of her black dress, trying to make it come farther down than the upper thigh. She was far more comfortable in her themed dresses and cardigans, which helped engage her second-grade students. “I didn’t know you had that much skin; I almost thought your legs was made of cloth like some stuffed animal.”

Before Caroline could laugh at Ja’Marr’s roast, she heard Joe’s laugh, and his grip tightened on her hip. “Don’t be mad, Ja’Marr. You’ve just been salty that I’m the one she chose to know how much skin she has and how to stuff her.”

At that moment,t the various reactions rang through the group. Tee and Irv sent a chorus of “oooohs” to the circle of six. Caroline nearly choked on her drink and sent a look of confusion and panic to Sam, who responded with a chuckle and a “Well, this got weird. This is my signal to leave.”

Caroline turned out the remaining four men, making fun of Sam for running away when sexual topics came up while her mind raced with thoughts. Caroline shifted in her spot, tugging at her dress again. 

Joe seemed to notice Caroline zoning out because a whisper in her ear brought her back to reality. “I’m sorry, Caro. It came out before I could think. I had two drinks before you got here; I'm so sorry.” Tee, Irv, and Ja’Marr were still in conversation, now about the chances Sam would find enough alcohol and a girl to make him warm up to the sexual topics tonight.

Caroline let out a sigh and excused her and Joe from the group. She led them to a corner near a window overlooking Great American Ball Park and a partial view of the river. “You’re forgiven, Joe. You know, I just hate when you get vulgar.” “I completely understand. You’re not a piece of meat. I promise I’ll only brag about our fantastic sex life and your crazy body when you start the conversation.”

 Caroline leaned even farther on her tiptoes than her heels assisted, and kissed Joe on the chin. “That’s all I ask, baby.”

—

Ironically enough, Joe and Caroline had that conversation at the beginning of the night because, at present, the couple currently found themselves in a small group of Bengals and some of their plus ones from the party, playing a drinking game that required the player to answer the question on the card drawn or drink. The night had gone smoothly after the small speed bump that happened when Caroline arrived, so she found herself relaxing into Joe’s side, enjoying the early morning hours.

A small group of Joe and his teammates had decided that after a season of abstaining from partying as hard as they wanted, they’d continue the celebration in the suite Ja’Marr and Joe had previously booked in a nearby hotel. Something had told them they would be too incapacitated to drive and would want to celebrate as late as possible.

“Oooo! My turn! I pick... Joe!” Irv’s little sister Rachel, exclaimed to the circle. Her words were slurred from the mix of whiskey and weed she had been ingesting, but the entertainment was evident in her voice. It was obvious she was enjoying the usually serious men lose themselves in fits of giggles when another teammate admitted something embarrassing.

“What’s the most amount of people you’ve hooked up with in a night?”

“Three,” Joe mumbled, not picking up his drink. 

Caroline sucked in a breath. She knew this, while they didn’t quite know everything about each other yet, she and Joe had talked a lot in the time of their relationship. Early on, though, they found out that their sexual and romantic history was best left on an “ask-only” basis. Caroline knew herself better than to have Joe tell her everything at once. After his last long-term relationship ended, she watched from afar as he numbed himself in ways she didn’t even want to think about. She knew it was best for herself if she only found out what she needed to know and she believed that included whether or not she would be in the same room with one of Joe’s random hookups. Joe seemed to share the same mentality because he had only ever asked her vague questions. 

Next was Irv’s turn to pick a person to interrogate and a card. He scanned the group and chose Sam. His voice filled the air, reading from the card, “What was your most embarrassing sexual experience? Describe what you remember in detail.” “Fuck off, it does not say that!” Sam protested across the table from Caroline. “I’m afraid it does, Sammy boy,” Irv laughed back, waiting for Sam’s embarrassment. Caroline’s eyes shut as she laughed at her best friend’s discomfort. This situation was so much funnier to her than the one earlier in the night. Caroline wasn’t sure if it was because there was some light ribbing going on, the presence of women, and a game that was about bonding, gave her comfort in a way that was not present when it was just Caroline and 5 men.

 “Well, I guess when I was like 16… uh…. The girl I lost my virginity to…,” Sam stuttered. Caroline’s eyes instantly opened. She knew this story. She had figured in 10 years and a professional sports career later, he would have more embarrassing memories. “Well, uh… We had decided that maybe we would try mouth stuff, y’know. Well, uhh. St-she went down on me for the first time and uh.. .she vomited on me.” Sam stuttered through the whole beginning of the story while everyone else was gasping for air through their laughs. “You got puked on?!” T.B. said through howls. 

“Well, that’s not all.. We both made so much noise when my lap got covered. Ma-her brother came bursting through her bedroom door, and, uh.. he caught us.” Caroline shifted in her weight and faintly joined in the echoing laughter. Joe looked at her with a quizzical look and took another hit of the blunt being passed around. Joe wasn’t usually much of a partier, but the Bengals had put up a hell of a fight this season and it looked like her boyfriend was damn sure goign to celebrate it.. He had slowed down on his drinking after embarrassing himself earlier in the night, but Caroline had seen him with a honey-flavored backwood and at least two different rolled swishers throughout the night.

Before Joe could make anything of it, Sam’s name pulled him out of his thoughts to see Tee’s placing a card on the table. It was Caroline’s turn and she was answering telling the most legal trouble she had ever been in.

“So, basically, Sam had gone to practice and I woke up before he did. I went down to the kitchen in his house and two of his roommates were talking about me over breakfast. They were basically saying the most vile things you could think of and it only got more vulgar once they saw me. I threw a cast iron skillet at one of them and was banned from OSU’s campus.” She had shared this secret with Joe a few weeks into seeing each other. He had heard a vague version when Sam moved out of his house midseason. Caroline filled him in on the details after they were together to let him know why she was so sensitive about being in ceratin situations.

The card game continued for another ten minutes before some member of the group suggested they play ‘Never Have I Ever.’ This time, Caroline caught the look Joe sent her as she filled her glass to get ready to play. “You’re sure you’re okay with this? They’re going to get even more raunchy.”

Caroline licked her lips before forming them into a smile. “I’m fine, Joey. I’m having fun, I promise. And if I get uncomfortable, we can always say one of us is tired. Just squeeze my hip twice.”

Rachel explained the modified “late night, here to get fucked up” rules. They’d go around the circle and each person would say something they had never done. Every person has five fingers up and puts a finger down and takes a drink for every time they’ve done what someone else hasn’t. Once all five fingers are down, the person chugs their drink and is out.

The rules seemed easy enough and before long the game was on and laughs filled the air. Caroline wasn’t really paying attention to who had done what. Except Joe. She knew she shouldn’t, but this was a loophole in learning things about him, and without all the details. So far the score had gone as follows:

“Had sex in a football field” - Joe drank. Caroline drank. “Ever made out with someone of the same sex” Joe didn’t drink. Caroline drank. (Joe winked at her) “Cheated on someone” Joe drank. Caroline didn’t drink. “Been cheated on.” Both drank. “Broken a bone.” Both drank.

The group was in good humor, consistently whooping at Caroline when she had admitted she did something. Rachel had changed gears from trying to get everyone’s dirty secrets to just getting Caroline out, picking topics for her and Irv that they had known would get her out.

They were both down to their last finger and Caroline was starting to get drowsy. She had drunk quite a few times during this game and had been tipsy before. Maybe if she were more sober, she would have realized one of the two things happening within the next moment. Rachel gave Caroline a jokingly competitive stare before mouthing you’re going down.

“Never have I ever fucked someone in this room.”

Being the level of intoxicated she was, Caroline didn’t realize that an odd number of people in the room put their fingers down and took a swig of their drink. She also didn’t realize that, while Joe was intoxicated, he was mainly high which caused his mind to work in overdrive. This meant that Joe had noticed that there was an odd number of people who put their fingers down in the room.

Caroline had her cup tipped to the ceiling and was almost to the bottom of it when she felt two distinct squeezes on her hip and her boyfriend growling her name barely loud enough for her to hear. Her mind started racing at what Joe could.

“Actually guys, I’m feeling a little past my limit and am probably going to lay down. Caroline, care to join?” Joe’s strained voice came through his tightly clenched jaw. Caroline followed Joe as he stood up and made his way down the hallway of the suite toward their bedroom.

“Are you feeling okay, Joe?” The question hung between them while Joe fumbled with the keycard and the door handle. Caroline tried to not let her mind race too much as she replayed the last three minutes in her head. If anything, she should be the one a little upset in her opinion. Joe had admitted to cheating on someone in the past, and although she knew of the incidents, she couldn’t fathom why admitting she had sex with Joe would set him off so much.

A low grumble she couldn’t make out brought her out of her thoughts as Joe ushered her through the door.

“Please?” Caroline questioned, indicating to Joe to repeat what he said. “Why didn’t you tell me you fucked him?” Joe demanded again, this time loud enough for the redhead to hear. She was standing a the foot of the bed while Joe still had his hand on the deadbolt. “Uhm, what and who are we talking about again?” Caroline nervously laughed, attempting to put the pieces of the puzzle together in her head. It hit her the same time Joe’s steeled blue eyes met her brown ones and he repeated the question. “Why didn’t you tell me you fucked Sam?” the third time the question was presented to Caroline, frustration and anger overtook her drunken state. “What in the world are you talking about, Joe? When I told you I didn’t need to know details of your sex life you told me the same?” Caroline was confused. She never intentionally kept anything from her boyfriend. 

“I did ask. The first time we hooked up,” Joe’s voice came out strained. He had moved towards the middle of the large room. All Caroline wanted to do was crawl in the large bed directly in front of her and cuddle her boyfriend. This night definitely took multiple turns. “You did not! You asked me if you were the first professional athlete I had gone down on.” Caroline was exasperated now. She didn’t want Joe to think she was lying.

Caroline walked into the bathroom for a chance to break Joe’s gaze. When she reached the mirror she began taking the pins out of her curls. “And I very clearly heard the story of the first time you had that experience tonight, with our mutual best friend, Caro.” Joe loosened his tie as he emphasized the last few words of his sentence. He was angrier than Caroline had ever seen him off the field and she hated that it was because of her. 

The redhead turned her body to face the door where her boyfriend stood. Even when angry, the man was beautiful. Brown waves fell onto his face nose and cheeks red from a mixture of intoxication and anger. He had his button-up undone to his sternum and was working on taking off his belt.

“And I had told you that story when Matthew asked if you knew how to use a lock! I told you he walked in on me in high school and you cut me off. Plus, that happened well before Sam was drafted, therefore not a pro athlete. I thought you were asking if I was a groupie trying to add another to the list.” “I genuinely thought you knew babe,” she said from in front of the mirror, her eyes taking in Joe. He had leaned against the doorway and was watching her in a manner that made her unsure of what he was thinking. Usually, communication was easy between them. Disagreements never lasted long because even if they had conflicting feelings on a subject, they were both willing to hear it from the other’s perspective to attempt to understand.

Caroline unfastened the back of the earrings she was wearing and placed them down in the travel jewelry box she had placed on the counter earlier in the evening. “I told you about how I was a nerdy ginger in high school and had to make a mutual agreement to lose my virginity to my best friend. You didn’t want to know who”

Joe took a deep breath and rubbed his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “I guess, I didn’t think it was Sam. You guys went to different schools.”

“That’s cute that you thought high school Stevie could’ve gotten the attention of a boy besides Sam.” Caroline made the joke, hoping to lighten the mood. It didn't.

“He went to an all-boys school, and everyone in my school was repulsed by me, so we made a pact to keep up with the Joneses, so to speak. When everyone in middle school was talking about making out, we didn’t want to feel left out, and that sort of just progressed on to other things…”

“Do you have feelings for him?” Joe’s eyes flickered with a flash of emotion as he cut her off, clearly not wanting to hear the details. “Oh my God. Absolutely not in the way you’re asking.” Caroline’s brown eyes made sure to keep eye contact with Joe’s blue ones, she wasn’t going to be the first to look away. “It was really just experimenting, Joe.” “When was the last time? Did I know you?” Joe questioned, anger still seeping through his voice. Caroline felt a lump grow in her throat when she thought back to the last time she and Sam had hooked up, or at least attempted to. It was during her and Sam’s sophomore year in college and he had invited her up to visit him at Ohio State. “It was the day we met. At Ohio State.” Caroline uttered. Sam had insisted on taking her to Woody’s, the on-campus tavern, to meet with some of the second-string freshmen. Joe barely said hello to her, before returning his attention to the playbook in front of him. The room was silent for a minute before Joe broke their eye contact, standing up straight. Rubbing his fingers against his lip again, he turned his head to the side. “Fuck, Caro.  I just hate that he’s had what’s mine.” Before Caroline could get out the words, ‘What’s yours?’” Joe closed the few steps between the two. 

“Yes, Caroline. You’re mine.” His proximity to Caroline caused her back to turn flush against the counter. “And tonight I’m going to mark my territory.”

A warm feeling of realization washed over Caroline when she realized what Joe meant. Or maybe it was horniness. Because at that very moment, his hand wrapped around Caro’s throat and bucked his hips into hers.

A moan of agreement left Caroline’s plump maroon lips, causing Joe to growl. “That’s right, baby. I’m going to take what’s mine. But first, on your knees.”

Excitement sent of chill throughout Caroline’s body. She liked it when Joe was dominantt, but it rarely ever happened without her explicitly asking for it. What can she say, the man was all about her gratification by default. 

Before her knees even made contact with the cold tile, Joe’s cock was out and hitting her in the face. A smile spread across her face before she opened her mouth and gave a lick to the head. Caroline still had her tongue out and she worked her mouth down Joe’s shaft. When the head hit the back of her throat, she closed her lips and wiggled her tongue. 

“That’s right, baby,” Joe smirked, raking his hands through the auburn curls at his pelvis. Caroline brought a hand up to cup his balls, retracting her tongue and beginning to move her back and forth. “Fuck.” Joe bucked his hips into his girlfriend’s mouth, causing her to gag a bit. “Gag on Daddy’s cock, that’s right.” He demanded, causing Caroline to loosen her jaw and attempt to take the rough fucking her face was receiving. That was new.

After a few moments filled with slurps and moans, Joe finally spoke again. “Get up. Turn around.” Joe’s voice was still gruff with anger, but possesiveness and lust had also joined in. If Caroline hadn’t already been wet from the worship Joe had just demanded from her, she would’ve been after Joe gave her ass a smack and returned his left hand to her throat. They made eye contact in the mirror in front of them.

“After tonight, there’s going to be no doubt you’re mine last.” Joe leaned in and whispered into her ear. His right hand busied itself tugging down the thong she had under her dress. Caroline lifted her leg slightly to step out of the thin material, Joe took this as his opportunity to line up the head of his dick with the slick of her pussy.

The tip of his dick entered her warmth and he whispered, “My girlfriend,” as he slammed his entire length into her. White pleasure tore through Caroline’s pelvis when this happened. Joe was not small, and feeling him push his entire length into her gave her a sense of fullness that she craved.

Pulling out slowly, his eye contact never wavered from Caroline’s. “On MY arm for events.” He thrust into her again, then pulled out even slower causing a whimper to escape Caroline’s smudged lips. “Mine,” Joe repeated, burying himself to the hilt again. “Any objections?” Caroline shook her head, making sure to keep her brown eyes locked on Joe’s blue ones. She wanted to see his reaction.

“No, sir.”

And she was glad she did. Joe’s eyes somehow got even darker with lust as his right hand pushed her back down, so her chest was flat on the counter and his left found her throat again. The marble dug into her thighs, but at this point, the pain was mixing with the pleasure, Joe thrusting aggressively into her.

Caroline couldn’t make out the chain of expletives leaving Joe’s mouth as she began to feel the intense pleasure building inside her. “I’m so close, Daddy,” she whined, trying on the new title Joe had given himself earlier. “I wanna come on your cock so bad.” If Caroline thought Joe lost himself in lust earlier, she was wrong. He let out a guttural moan and stood Caroline back up again, without removing the hand from her throat. He moved his hand from her back to her clit. He used his long fingers to work circular motions on the sensitive nerves until Caroline lost herself to her pleasure and began twitching lightly. She wasn’t sure if she was actually moaning or just imagining it until Joe’s voice coached her through her orgasm. “I know, darling,” He planted a kiss on her head. “I know, you’re doing such a good job, just breathe.” He peppered more kisses over the top of her head before he moaned again. “I’m going to come, babe. Get on your knees and open your mouth.” Caroline did as she was told, quickly. She wasn’t going to give Joe a reason to question whether she liked this side of him or not. Joe pumped his fist around his dick twice before warm ropes came shooting towards Caroline, most of it making it in her mouth, a little on her lips and chin. She took Joe’s thumb and wiped the excess, before making eye contact and engulfing it in her mouth. After swirling her tongue around Joe’s thumb a few times, she swallowed. She set her lips in an ‘O’ to show off her newly empty mouth to Joe. “Fuck, Caro. You’re going to be the death of me,” Joe said laughing, his cheeks flushed. He patted his girlfriend's head before saying, “Now go clean up so we can go to sleep. I need you to get some rest before I wake you up.” “Oh, yeah?,” Caroline cocked an eyebrow, still on the ground. Her thighs were starting to ache from never taking off her heels. “Yeah, I’m going to fill you with cum and then we’re going to go eat brunch with the rest of the suite,” Joe said, sternness still in his voice.

Caroline stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged and her hair was a rat’s nest, she thought about how this was the happiest she had ever been. Though, she was certain if she continued finding and loving new sides of Joe, it wasn’t the happiest she would ever be.

[onsunnyside]

³.⍭ 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝟏/𝟐)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | ghostface!ex-boyfriend!Ari Levinson x airhead/dumb!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | soft DARK/DARK themes and elements, obsessed/controlling!Ari, possessive/obsessive behaviour, dumb!reader, size difference: 6’10!Ari, manhandling, DD/LG undertones, stalking (implied), alcohol, drugs (weed, edibles). SMUT - minors DNI, fingering (f), daddy kink, size kink, exhibitionism, dirty talk, dacryphilia, degradation, dumbification, p*ssy slapping, squirting.

𝗪/𝗖 | 4.55K

𝗔/𝗡 | welcome to my first kinktober fic ever !! i’m very excited for you all to meet mr obsessive ex ari, after all, he was just thot of last week. As always, all mistakes are my own and i hope you all enjoy !! 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Hey, I heard you were going to the Halloween party tonight… I just wanted to say have fun and be safe. You know how Drysdale’s parties can be—”

“You unblocked him?” 

You jump, dropping your phone to the floor. At the doorway is your best friend, Wanda, with a black hat atop her soft auburn hair. She crosses her arms with a deep scowl, “Well? Are you going to explain yourself?”

You shrink under her harsh glare and nervously tug at the fur hem of your dress, “I got curious.” 

She stomps towards you, embodying the grumpy, grouchy witch she’s dressed as. With a swift motion, she grabs your phone off the ground and tucks it into her purse. “Do not drunk text or call your ex.” She commands as if scolding a child. “You aren’t crawling back to that dickhead, even if I have to babysit you tonight.” 

That was how plenty of people talked to you. Like you didn’t understand the simplest things and needed everything spelled out and demonstrated. 

And, you won’t lie—sometimes that demeaning exchange was what you needed, but other times it just made you feel stupid. 

This wasn’t the first time one of your friends has treated you this way, hell, you don’t remember when they treated you any other way. Ever since your breakup, they’ve kept you on a tight leash, snooping through your phone, keeping tabs on your whereabouts, and even passing you around like a baby who couldn’t take care of themself. 

The breakup was their idea—an ultimatum, more like it, “it’s us or him. We take care of you, and he—he treats you like a pet or a fucking baby.” 

You chose your closest friends over the guy who made your heart swell bigger than the moon. Even now, you still feel the ache in your chest, the gutting loss of someone you once loved and someone who made you happy. 

You’re happier now, that’s what Natasha told you every day. You’re happier without him. 

“I won’t!” You vow and reach for her bag, but she quickly steps away. “Wanda, please! I can hold my phone!” 

“No, because now I know I can’t trust you when you’re sober!” She snaps, “It’s been what? A month?” 

You wince at her volume, “Five weeks—almost six.” 

She groans in frustration, “Ugh, c’mon! He was always breathing down your neck and he never let you go out with us unless he was there. How could we have proper fun with a scary giant like him?”

Ari was on the rugby team, a D1 player, whatever that meant, you assumed it meant he was one of the best. He was tall and brawny, just over 6’10” with broad shoulders and a thick chest that nearly burst through all his button-ups. His firm arms were bigger than your head and his hand dwarfed yours. He used to wrap his bicep around your neck and tug you into him to kiss your cheeks—one of his love languages was touch. And his thighs, you mourned all the times you napped on his lap, rubbing your cheek into the coarse hair of his muscular flesh. 

He was so much bigger than most people on campus. His impenetrable presence towered over them. Oftentimes he’d manhandle you or carry you around. You thought it was cute when he had to duck through doorways sometimes. 

The first time he ever came to your dorm room, he didn’t even try to climb to your bed on the upper bunk. 

“You know, if we start dating, you’ll have to do some remodelling.” He smirked and tugged you to the edge of the mattress by your ankle, “Don’t you want me in your bed too, bunny?”

After a week of begging your roommate to rearrange the room, you both came to a compromise. Now, you were on the bottom bunk and she moved to the top. 

“You could sit here now!” You presented your clean, made bed with your dozens of stuffies all neatly sitting atop the coral covers. “Watch your head but just in case, I put a little cushion too.” 

Ari was popular and well-liked, he came from a good, wealthy family who hosted charity auctions and funded the college. His reputation was spotless, he was one of the top students, and he had many friends and admirers. If you two went out to dinner, it was guaranteed that someone would strike up a conversation. You didn’t care, you loved hearing Ari’s voice. 

You also loved when he introduced you as his girlfriend, always kissing your hand after saying your name in that creamy voice of his. 

“He isn’t scary… just intimidating.” You shyly countered, twiddling your fingers, “And he was there because I get nervous without him.”

“That’s exactly what we mean. You have to be your own person. Exist without needing someone to tell you what to do! Being so dependent on someone, much less some asshole like him, isn’t good for you.”

But Ari always knew what was good for you. 

You were never the brightest star, always fumbling and forgetful, ditzy and daydreaming every second of the day. Your grades not only proved how easily you got distracted but also your lack of drive and self-discipline. 

All your life you’ve flounced and fleeted, lived your days so blissfully ignorant to anything beyond the surface. That cluelessness made you vulnerable to any monster to sink their teeth into. It painted a self-portrait of your untouched, innocent soul, coloured like white chiffon. 

“I didn’t mind…” 

“You didn’t notice.” She corrects. “But he did. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he liked that you were—” stupid, it goes unsaid, “—oblivious. It made you easy, hun. That’s why he so effortlessly controlled you.” 

Your friends could try as they might, but it will never change the fact that Ari made you feel safe, secure and loved. And without him, you’re lying back on that heap of sticky disarray without a hint of how to take care of yourself. 

“We’re trying to protect you, don’t you understand that?” Wanda coaxes, tilting your chin up with her knuckle. The corners of her red lips turn down to a frown, “We care about you, we want what’s best for you and you know that Ari is far from that.” She wipes your cheek, and only then do you notice you’re crying. 

You heard the first breakup was the hardest, but you never expected it to be like this. You’re lost and alone. Abandoned in the middle of a bustling city, it was blinding, overcrowded and so loud that you had to cover your eyes and ears just for relief. You’re overwhelmed and disorientated, nothing made sense, no matter how hard you try to decipher it. 

There was no direction without him. 

You roughly wipe your nose and meet your reflection. Aside from the fresh tears and glossy pout, your skin glistened from the glitter on your eyelids and cheekbones—bunnies aren’t shimmery, Maria said, but you thought it was cute anyway. And you loved sparkles, that’s why Ari got you so much jewelry. 

Jewelry that your friends got rid of. You grieve for the gold ‘A’ initial charm, either sitting in the city dump or in a hidden box that you’ll never find. They’re all gone, just like his hoodies and sweatpants, and your beloved Hazel, the softest stuffie you’ve ever owned. You miss his weighted body covered in beige fur, floppy ears and lifeless but sweet eyes. 

“I had to reward you for doing so well on that test.” That was a stretch, you got a ‘C+’ but that was better than the ‘D-’ you got last time. Ari beamed proudly when you buried your nose in the stuffie, cutely kicking your feet in happiness. “You take care of him, bunny, he’s our little baby, okay?”

Ari pampered you, took you on dates and walked you to class every day. You thought he treated you like a princess, not a pet. 

Ari wasn’t that bad. To you, he was never bad. 

Wanda fixes your bunny ears and rubs your shoulders, a pitiful smile on her face. “C’mon, let’s fix your makeup before we go.” 

“So, he treated you like a pet?” One of your friends asked. 

“…He just made sure I was well taken care of.”

“Didn’t he just plop you in front of the television while he did his own thing?” 

Yes, although his academic talents seemed natural, Ari was very serious about school and would spend hours at his desk, studying or perfecting assignments. Sometimes he even did your homework, “Dummy bunny, you just sit there while I take care of this, okay?”

You vaguely recall the times he would tell you to not make a peep until he spoke first, just to keep your glossy lips shut until he addressed you. To you, it was being respectful of his quiet time and letting him set boundaries. Your friends thought it was toxic and controlling.

“You’re a human being, not his pretty little pet to do whatever he says.”

The mansion is packed when you and your friends arrive fashionably late. The bunch of you are clad in costumes ranging from a bright red devil to a dead cheerleader to a dark and mysterious witch. Unfortunately, you stuck out like a sore thumb with your egg-filled basket, sheer dress, and white fluffy ears and matching tail. You were the only one not in classic Halloween attire. 

You’re grateful Natasha suggested fake eggs instead of real ones. Although you wanted the joy of painting real Easter eggs, you’ve already dropped a few on the way to the party. You dreaded the mess and smell if they were real instead of just empty plastic. 

You suppose they were right, you didn’t think things through all the time. 

The whole property is decked out, from the jack o'lanterns on the porch and the ‘Enter If You Dare’ sign in the front yard. Inside the big house, strobe lights flashed across the room in red, blue and green, colouring the other guests in neon shades. The walls were covered in bat and spider decals, little white ghosts hung from the banisters, and fake spider webs occupied the ceiling corners. 

It doesn’t take long for your friends to get the night started. After getting drinks from a frat boy dressed as an ice cream man, the group of you migrated to the energetic dance floor in the basement. 

The music was louder and the lights were brighter, blinding you every time they found your eyes. As the colour sparks across the walls, inescapable memories flash through your brain. 

The last time you were at a party, it was to celebrate another win by the rugby team and being the girlfriend of their best player, you had to dress for the role. You squeezed into your old cheer uniform and cheekily stitched each letter of ‘LEVINSON’ on the back. Oh, Ari loved when you wore his name. If he could, he’d have you clad in his jersey every damn day.  

This wasn’t a party hosted by his fraternity, your friends made sure of that, but a few of his friends were in attendance. You’ve caught glimpses of their tall and burly figures but didn’t dare to say hello. It would be too awkward. 

What if he’s here too? 

One by one, your friends disappear and you're left in the middle of the dance floor with your basket half empty. The eggs were going to be impossible to find, so you didn’t try. After weaving through the sweaty, grinding bodies, you returned to the less packed kitchen. 

With your ears still pounding, you squint at the bottles, reading each name and smelling a few. Eventually, you give up and dumbly mix whatever looks good. Judging books by their covers never got you far, but it got you something, and you wanted to have fun tonight. Party, dance, get drunk and have fun.

A shadow appears next to you, crowding you against the counter with its mass and height. When you turn around, a radiant smile explodes on your face. “Hey, Brian!”

“It’s Bryce.” The light-haired man corrects with a quirk of his lips. “Forget me already?”

Your eyes widen, “Oops, sorry! No, how could I forget the world’s best lab partner?” You set aside your cup and hug him tightly, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“I just got here, I had to pick up some brownies that Jensen made.” He nods to the spread of snacks and punch. Like the rest of the house, the table was Halloween-themed with eyeball cake pops, blood-red punch, and the cutest spooky cupcakes. The surface was also decorated with old lanterns, fake candles and skulls. “You want to try?”

You shy away. The last time you tried Jensen’s brownies, you jumped Ari’s bones right in front of his friends, the baker himself included! You hadn’t felt like that before, that needy, desperate and wet. 

To this day, you’re still haunted by the memories of Ari slipping his hand up your tiny skirt and getting you off with just a few fingers. With his friends packed into the frat house living room, their eyes drawn to the sports game on the television, either ignoring or not noticing your quiet whimpers and the dull motions under the blanket on your lap. 

“Dumb little bunny, are you gonna come in front of daddy’s friends?” He whispers against your ear, locking you tightly in his lap and stuffing your soppy core with two thick fingers, “I want you to make a stupid mess in your pretty panties, cream yourself like a pathetic baby so daddy could clean you up later.”  

You shake your head, grasping his wrist under the blanket. 

Ari cruelly takes that as a sign to speed up his pumps, rubbing your swollen clit with the heel of his palm. Your wetness smears down your slit, soaking your skimpy thong and the cushion of the couch. Between the pauses of the sports game, you can hear the horrifying sticky sounds from between your trembling thighs. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted, bunny? Daddy’s just helping you out. Poor girl gets all wet with just a lil weed.” 

You can still taste the chocolatey goodness. How shameful was it that you’d have another if he asked?

He kicks your legs apart and gets rougher, making you fall back onto his chest with a gasp, “Think I can fit another, baby? Or is your tight pussy still too little for me?” 

“T-Too small, daddy—not gonna fit.” You shakily reply, knowing all too well how he has to force himself into your tight walls. The thought of his girth stuffing your core has a wave of arousal pooling around his thrusting fingers, and your stomach tightening. 

He groans lowly, “Mhm, but you want me to try. Dumb little whore loves being filled to the brim, huh?” His ring finger slides alongside the other two, stretching your weepy hole as a burning sensation flows through you. “You love when I just pin you down and force you to take it. My bunny fuckin’ loves being used.” His bicep keeps you against his warm, muscled body, only reminding you how trapped you are, entirely helpless and vulnerable to his sinful actions. 

He was right, you loved it. 

A choked whine escapes your sealed lips, miraculously not catching the attention of the other guys. Your hips grind against his hand, practically riding his fingers as you topple over. You slap a hand over your mouth, silencing your moan as your juices spurt from your pussy. 

“Good girl, that’s it, use daddy’s fingers.” He spears into you relentlessly, hitting that rough patch with his long fingers and rubbing your clit with his palm. The lewd noises grow in volume, he doesn’t give a shit if his friends notice—he wants them to. He wants them to know you’re his and only his. “Cream yourself, ya little dummy. Make a mess in front of all my friends—let ‘em know what a filthy slut you are for daddy.” 

Your orgasm rushes down your leg, soaking his pants and the material of your leg warmers, and adds to the disgraceful puddle on the floor. Tears stream down your hot cheeks and your mind goes blank, drool dripping from your chin dumbly. Ari pulls away with a mean pinch to your clit and you spasm in his hold, uneven breaths shaking your frame. 

He growls and slaps your cunt, unable to resist rubbing your puffy button. “Fuck, I should’ve had you try those brownies earlier, could’ve gave this greedy little cunt what it needs.” 

It was safe to say if you wanted a brownie, you wouldn’t spend the night alone. 

“I don’t know… It isn’t even midnight yet.”

“C’mon! It’s a new recipe, similar to his usual stuff but not as strong. You’ll be fine, sweetheart.” Bryce tugs you to the table with a firm grip on your hand. “I’ll get you a piece, do you like corners or middles?”

You don’t want to tell him about the problem from the last time. Who knows what he’d think of you? 

Those worries didn’t only stem from embarrassment, but you grew up in a household where the topic of sex was forbidden. Everything you learnt was from your past boyfriends, mainly Ari since he was your first serious relationship. Openness about the subject was still difficult, regardless of the escapades you and your ex have shared.

“If you have one, I’ll have one too.” Bryce urges, tilting his head like a puppy. “That way neither of us will be alone. Does that seem like a fair bargain, m’lady?” He bows. 

Your gaze drops to his thin white shirt, hanging on by two bottom buttons and tucked into the thick belt of his jeans. Sweat glistens on his pale, taut skin, highlighting the dips of his abs. Your grip on the Easter basket tightens as your eyes follow the trail of hair from his chest to his belly button. 

Bryce takes advantage of your glazed expression and holds a square to your mouth, cooing softly, “Open up, little bunny.” You make a confused sound and he uses that opportunity to feed you the brownie and tilt your chin, making you take a big chunk of the laced treat. “There we go, a nice big bite for me.” 

He’s so close you can count every freckle on his clean-shaven face. Bryce has always been pretty, but with his hair slightly longer and a gold crown atop his head, he’s even prettier. 

“So well behaved. Does it taste good?”

You nod wordlessly, not realizing he’s feeding you the rest of the brownie until he turns back to the tray. The rich, chocolate flavour spreads along your tastebuds, it’s gooey and moist, almost making you forget about the other ingredient. 

Bryce pops a whole square into his mouth and chews slowly. “Mhm, way better than his last batch.” He washes it down with a sip from a childishly cute monster-themed solo cup. “We should wait a bit before having more.” 

“I’ve never had more than one.”

“Then you’re in for a night, bunny.” He flashes a charming smile, all too fitting for his costume. “You’ve got some chocolate, let me get it for you.” He pinches your chin between his fingers and licks his other thumb, then delicately wipes the corner of your lips, as a mother would to a child. The single action brings warmth to your cheeks that only grows hotter when Bryce sucks the same digit into his mouth, his white teeth digging into his knuckle. “Always such a messy girl, I remember how stained your lab coat was just after the first semester.” 

“That class was so hard—I don’t think I learnt a thing!” 

Of course you didn’t, what could fit in your head other than air?

He doesn’t say that obviously, but he knows it’s true. Everyone on campus knew you were just a ditzy, clueless airhead with an irresistibly sweet personality. Nothing up there but you were plenty to look at with all your sundresses, mini skirts and those fucking tight shirts that you never wore a bra underneath. 

You didn’t even know you were collecting people’s hearts like trading cards. 

“You look great!” He says instead, reaching out to touch your soft ears. “Give me a spin, sweetheart.” 

You giggle and twirl around, showing off your puffy tail and almost tripping over yourself. “Thanks! My friends thought being the Easter bunny was dumb, but I’ve had this nightie forever and wanted to finally wear it—that’s why it’s a little small.” You whisper, gesturing to your breasts. 

If you jumped too suddenly, they’d surely spill out and Bryce mmediately thinks of ways to make you hop like a real bunny. “It isn’t dumb, I think you’ve got the best costume here.” 

You preen under his praise, smiling so dumbly that you don’t notice his eyes locking on your exposed cleavage. Usually, you’re wearing some fresh hickeys or marks from your boyfriend, all while he wears you on his arm like a shiny bracelet. Levinson knew he had the hottest piece of ass on campus, and he made sure everyone knew you were claimed, like a damn slab of meat. 

Bryce hated him but he can’t be upset about that, because he’d treat you the same way. 

“I like yours too. You’re the first and only prince I’ve seen all night.” 

“Yeah? What’s your boyfriend dressed as?” He cuts to the chase, “I haven’t seen him yet, and you two are usually inseparable.” More like he never let you get more than three feet away. 

Your shoulders go slack and if your ears were real, they’d surely do the same. “oh, we broke up…”

Bryce blinks in surprise, caught off guard. A rush of glee fills his body, but he hides it with faux concern, “What? When?” Just like that, your eyes start watering again—and he can’t help but admire how pretty you look when you cry. “Did he break your heart, baby?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, swallowing the lump in your throat, “No, I-I dumped him.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” He isn’t, not one bit. “Do you want to talk about it outside?” 

Ari is fucking seething. 

Boiling with rage to the point where steam nearly blows from his ears. Under his black hooded robe, his skin is set ablaze as he watches you stumble after the brunet. You’re facing down but his sharp gaze follows those white and pink ears.  

He glances at his phone, the delivered sign right under the various text messages sent to you all night. He was checking up on you, making sure you were okay and not getting into trouble. 

Just because you were broken up didn’t mean he could instantly stop caring about you—that’s what he told his friends who were still wondering why he was so hung up on you. 

“You could get any other girl, man.” Steve rubs his back, the locker room emptier now that most of the team had left. 

The rugby team won the game, no surprise there, but while the rest of the guys celebrate the victory, Ari can���t relax. He can barely sit still. The image of the empty seat of the very first row is burned on the inside of his eyelids, patronizing him. 

“But, none of them are her.” Curtis dramatically sighs from down the aisle, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. “What? You think just because she was your girl, that I can’t find her hot?”

“The decent thing to do would be to not say it out loud, asshole.” 

“Too bad it’s hard to forget a piece of ass like that.” Another unhelpful voice speaks up as a dripping wet brunet emerges from the showers, his long hair still soaked. “I can’t imagine what it’s like having her then losing her.”

“I didn’t lose her.” Ari huffs, tossing aside his phone so he didn’t have to look at the painful one-sided conversations. 

“Well, you had her and now you don’t.” Curtis deadpanned. “Sounds like losing her to me.” Bucky finishes with a snort. 

Steve, the only one with a heart, tells them to shut up. He hated seeing his childhood best friend so upset. “Have you tried going to her dorm?”

Every damn day. “She’s never there. Always out with her fuckin’ friends. Bunch of dumb sluts, all of them.” 

“Your precious bunny included?”

Ari rolls his eyes. “She’s got no brains anyway.” 

Bucky laughs, drying his hair with a towel. “You know, it wasn’t her choice. They all pushed her to dump you.” Oh, Ari knows that. 

“So technically, she isn’t to blame.” Steve agrees, he tucks his blond hair into a baseball cap. “I knew she wouldn’t make that decision by herself.” 

“‘cause she’s stupid?” Curtis smugly wonders, “Because we know that already.” 

“No, because she loved him.” 

Loved—that isn’t right. You still love him. You had to. You were his sweet girl, his dumb baby, his bunny. He couldn’t fathom you just being you. Someone entirely detached from him, free of his authority and influence. 

That kind of independence was high over your head and you’d never reach it no matter how hard you tried. You could climb skyscrapers or trees that kiss the clouds, but it’ll never be enough. You needed him to lift you up and get you there, and fill up your empty little head with a false sense of self-rule. 

You should be thankful for him and kiss the ground he walks on, not break his heart over text. 

You’d be nothing without him in the same way he was nothing without you.  

After you met him, your perceptions and ideas, desires and fears were no longer your own. He fixed the little puzzle in your head, he did all the thinking and decision-making since you clearly couldn’t do it by yourself. 

He was electric and charismatic, and you were pure and gullible. 

The itty bitty seedling in a field of mature, vibrant flowers. Everyone crowded over you, stealing the golden rays and fresh breeze—that was until Ari came along and tucked you into an ivory pot, and took you home. 

He gave you everything you needed and then some, always putting your well-being above his own. He watered you, raised you towards the sun and made you into his slice of heaven. He made it so you couldn’t grow and flourish without him. 

Then, you took his heart and stomped on it like a bug. 

“She’s just an airhead who does whatever people tell her.” Curtis affirms, “Ain’t nothing up there but pixie dust and cotton candy.” 

Ari can’t deny that. He knows all too well about your naive obedience to orders and your wide-eyed, credulous view of the world. You were always focusing on the bright side, always holding other people’s opinions above your own—that’s what made it so easy to drill the hunger for his acceptance into your head. 

Bucky hums, “If anything, you’ve got to get even with her friends. If they’re out of the picture, who do you think she’ll run back to?”

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: hehe I think i'm in my sleazy daddy and airhead!reader era. i bet you aren't ready for ari fucking reader in mating press.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! see you on oct. 6 for part two !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[soulofapatrick]

Behind the Scenes - Pedro Pascal x reader/OC

NOTES (edited): parst two and three have been written as requested: Never Letting You Go and Perfect Date

Pedro’s POV 

"You guys ready?" Adam's voice is muffled as he calls through the blanket the costume team have covering him as they want to do a big reveal of the Bloater costume. Everyone cheers and we call count down to one before the blanket is dropped. 

There's a small squeak and a hand is grabbing my left one tightly. Turning my head away from the most impressive bit of cgi and prosthetic I've ever seen I'm greeted by Y/N - Bella's older sister. She's got her eyes squeezed shut and her grip on my hand tightens as there's a mixture of fear and disgust on her face. 

"It's okay," I wriggle her hand out of mine, ignoring her protests, so I can wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side. She wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my neck without thinking and it's nice. 

Bella catches my eye, wiggling her eyebrows as Adam disappears back into the costume trailer to get out of that slimy suit. I hold Y/N for a few more minutes as people dissapate back to where they came from or their stations. 

"Come on mama," I coo, watching the way her cheeks go a bright shade of red when she steps away and her emerald eyes struggle to raise to meet mine. 

"I.. uh… I should-" She points to where Bella and Nico are talking before scurrying over to them. The younger girls take one look at Y/N and burst into laughter, Nico acting out a fake swoon with her hand pressed to her forehead. Y/N doesn't hesitate to throw Nico over her shoulder and sprint off somewhere with the younger girl shrieking with even more laughter and Bella chasing after them yelling about giving her best friend back. 

I can't help but chuckle at the chaos of those three, the back of my mind yelling at me to go after Y/N as I'm missing the feel of her body against mine. It felt natural to have my arm around her and the feel of her lips brushing my neck even if accidental. 

——————

The next time I see Y/N she's curled up on one of the couches we have on set, head dropping then flying up as if trying not to fall asleep. Bella's sat next to her, on her phone, not paying attention to her older sister. 

"Oh my god," Nico appears next to me, scaring the absolute shit out of me. She always just appears out of goddamn nowhere and it's become a thing on set, "Go over there right now." 

She's shoving me in the Ramsey sisters' direction so I do as she says, walking over to them and sitting in the open space between the two. Bella grins up at me before being called away by Nico, a knowing look passing between them that has my blood running slightly colder as they're up to something. 

"Oh, hey Pedro," Y/N's sleep filled voice is even more beautiful than her normal voice, words slurring slightly as she rubs her eyes sleepily. I shrug off the jacket I'm wearing and ball it up into a pillow shape before placing it on my lap. Y/N meets my gaze before practically collapsing on the makeshift pillow, out like a light. I shift a little so I can comfortable rest an arm over her shoulder and scroll through social media while she gets her much needed rest. 

She eventually shifts onto her back, her face turned towards me as soft sounds leave her plump, pretty pink lips. She looks so peaceful and it always surprises me how different Y/N and Bella look despite being siblings. Y/N has reddish auburn hair while Bella's is dark brown and while Bella has such a boyish build Y/N's is all soft curves. Her skin blemish free except a small silver scar that crosses over the left side of her lips and freckles decorate her cheeks. 

Before I can stop myself I'm caressing her cheek, heart pounding at the way she snuffles slightly before leaning into the touch. Oh god, I'm in love. 

Too soon set are calling for me and Bella to continue filming. I don't want to walk her but I can't get up without disturbing her so I shake her gently. She groans softly and her eyes flutter open, looking around before meeting mine where I'm leant over her. Her cheeks fill with colour again as she flies up as if being caught doing something she shouldn't. 

"Here," I hold out my jacket for her to take as I stand, raising an eyebrow when she hesitates before she takes it with a quiet 'thank you'. 

———————

We don't cross paths again until we're filming in Canmore. It's freezing and not many people want to spend their free time outside so it's also been quite quiet  for all of us. I've seen glimspes of Y/N and Bella outsides of filming but there's an ache in my chest that I'm not going to give anyone the satisfaction of admitting Y/N is the only one who can fill it. 

Y/N's on set today, playing a background characters from Jackson. She looks gorgeous as ever, the snowy backdrop making her ethereal looking, that blush when she meets my gaze brighter than ever. 

The shooting goes by quickly before Bella and I collapse on the couch, both wrapped up in hoodies and jackets. She begins to excitedly show me some more fan edits that have been made in the last few weeks, some from being on set. I love my fans so much, I mean I am their cool slutty daddy. 

Y/N stumbles over, nudging at my knees which makes me look up at her in confusion. She doesn't speak, prying my legs apart before dropping to the floor between them so she can rest her back on against the sofa and her head on my knee. The innocent action of her dropping to her knees now imprinted in my mind forever. The things she does to me. 

I continue to converse with Bella and watch edits and clips with her while my hands subconsciously begins to card through Y/N's hair as she's on her phone. The moment is perfect and I wish we could stay like this but of course it doesn't last long because Bella's being called to film. She's about to do the part with her and David while Joel is injured. 

My hands move from her hair to her shoulders, massaging the knots. Her hand that was holding her phone drops into her lap, head falling against my knee and a beautiful sound leaving her lips. The sound goes straight to my crotch and it finally breaks my resolve. 

I'm tugging her up, slightly surprised how pliant she is in my hands, before making her face me. Her gaze falls to mine and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip before she's gasping when I grab her hips and yanking her onto my lap. She shifts a bit so her knees are comfortably either side of me and I don't loosen the tight grip I have on her hips until she's settled.

"God, you're perfect," I breathe, our faces inches apart as I brush my thumb over her bottom lips, relishing in the way her breath hitches. It's all it takes for me to tangle that hand in her hair and pull her into a bruising kiss. She retaliates, teeth nipping at my own bottom lip before letting out a gasp as I press her hips down against mine with my other hand. It's sloppy, hot and everything I've wanted from Y/N. 

I grip her chin, guiding her into a dirtier kiss and relishing in the way she's so malleable, letting me lead. Daring to deepen the kiss I brush my tongue across her lips, groaning when I taste the strawberries I saw her snacking on earlier. 

"Fuck," She utters as I begin to trail lips down her neck, leaving no exposed skin untouched. I want to worship every part of her; wanting to hear every little sound I draw from her-

"Ahem!" 

Y/N's shrieking and tries to scramble off my lap by my hands tighten and she just buries her face in my jacket, not wanting to see who caught us. The person being Gabriel and he's wearing a shit eating grin. 

"I'm glad you too stopped dancing around each other but you may have just scarred Bella so this," He waves a hand at us, a teasing lilt to his tone, "Keep it safe when not in your trailers." 

Trailers. The thought of Y/N spread out below me in my trailer has me just about ready to carry her there now but I don't want to rush this. I want this to be perfect; I want us to be perfect. 

"I want to ruin you," I growl experimentally in her ear once Gabriel's gone and she mewls, pressing her body against mine but keeping her face hidden. I guide her back, so she can meet my gaze before I say, "I don't want to rush us though. I want us to go at your-"

"Take me to your trailer and ruin me." 

"Yes ma'am."

[bloofinntoona]

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, how do you think Sebastian would react to finding out that MC was good at hand to hand combat? Think they’ve been disarmed and rather than look around for their wand, they instead charge at their assailant and sock them in the face

Thanks for the ask! ❤｡◕‿ ◕｡

LMAOO I can imagine his dumbfounded face as MC decked someone. Honestly, they should've taught combat in DADA anyways.

Themes: funny, action, f!reader, fluff, didn't proofread this I'm ready for the trenches

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Cold autumn breeze cut deep into your skin and bones, causing a massive quiver. You huddled close to the auburn-haired boy, begging for just a bit of warmth. To be fair, it was partially your fault for dropping your assignments to meet him in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, asking if you can help him retrieve a potion ingredient from a cave. Hiding behind a massive boulder, the two overlooked a small group of poachers -- two trackers and one animagus.

You glared at your companion, whispering, "You didn't say there will be poachers!"

"How would I know? They're everywhere these days!" he whispered back, "Let's just dispose of them and go."

"We can use the disillusionment charm and--" Before you could finish, the boy leaped and casted "Levioso!" on one of the men, sending him floating about. The other poachers immediately casted sorts of protection spells around them.

You mentally face palmed as you jumped into the battle scene, casting sorts of charms, pushing and pulling the enemies. Red lights from the basic casts flew everywhere, some even burned through your robe.

Sebastian and you did make a great team, taking turns casting Stupefy and hitting the enemies while they were down. Especially with your ancient magic, you and Sebastian already got the upper hand.

As you just finished taking down the animagus (the wolf form was particularly annoying), you noticed the tracker next to you pointed his wand to Sebastian. You quickly registered that Sebastian's wand was charging, sparks emitting from the stick.

Without any hesitation, you pulled your arm, balled your fist, and punched the poacher right in the middle of his face. You swore you heard a crack, obviously breaking his nose. Sebastian eyes widen in shock, mouth agape. You casted "Depulso!" pushing the enemy against the tree, rendering him unconcious.

"What was that?!" Sebastian shouted as he jogged closer to you. He grimaced at the sight of blood gushing from the poacher's nose. Sebastian scoffed, " You surely do pack a punch!"

"Why? Scared I would deck you too, Sallow?" you playfully do punching gestures aimed to the Slytherin boy.

"Hold on there, miss," he laughed, blocking your jabs with his hands, "I wouldn't expect this from a lady, but you are one-of-a-kind." He took the hand that you used to hit the man, gently stroking the red patch on your knuckles -- most likely swelling from the impact. Sebastian lowered his face and planted a soft kiss on the back of your hand, causing you to blush.

"I'll be better at dueling so you don't have to do that again." He smirked.

"You just wanted an excuse to duel!" You both laugh and continued the journey.