#but just think of what that means for the after-party
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rafeskai · 2 days ago
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Not Now, Not Ever | Rafe Cameron
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Summary: After a tense run-in with the cops, reader is injured while trying to escape, and Rafe reluctantly steps in to help. Though initially distant, Rafe's care and honesty break through the reader's defenses, revealing a vulnerability neither of them expected. As they face the aftermath together, the tension between them intensifies.
Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader
Warnings: Profanities
Author's Note: Requested by Anon! 
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The thing about Rafe Cameron was that he always seemed untouchable. Born into privilege, raised on Figure Eight with a golden spoon in his mouth and a name that opened doors, he was the embodiment of everything you didn’t have. And yet, he was the storm you could never quite outrun.
You hadn’t meant to cross paths with him. Your world—chaotic, messy, and a little too close to the edge—didn’t belong anywhere near his. But life in Kildare had a way of throwing people together, whether they fit or not.
It started months ago, on a humid summer night at one of those wild beach parties you swore you’d stop going to. The sand was packed with bodies, the air heavy with the scent of salt and cheap beer. You were nursing your third drink of the night, watching the waves crash against the shore, when Rafe stumbled into your line of sight.
He looked like trouble—disheveled blond hair, a cocky smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and an energy that screamed recklessness. You’d heard the stories about him, the whispered warnings. Stay away from Rafe Cameron. He’s bad news.
You should have listened.
But when his sharp blue eyes locked onto yours across the bonfire, something shifted. It wasn’t a spark; it was a collision—two opposing forces drawn together by some unseen magnetism. He swaggered over, drink in hand, and before you knew it, you were trading barbs and sidelong glances, the tension between you electric.
“You don’t belong here,” he’d said, his tone teasing but laced with something darker.
“And you do?” you shot back, refusing to back down.
That was the first of many encounters. Somehow, despite your better judgment, you kept running into him. At parties, in the middle of town, even at the gas station late one night when you were buying snacks to fuel another all-night gaming session.
The dynamic between you was always the same: sharp words and stolen glances, a push and pull that left you dizzy. He got under your skin in a way no one else could, peeling back your defenses with a smirk or a well-placed comment. And yet, there was something about him—something vulnerable beneath the bravado—that kept you from walking away.
Rafe, for all his arrogance, seemed fascinated by you too. He’d ask questions he had no right to ask, dig into your life like he was trying to understand what made you tick. You never gave him straight answers, but you had a feeling he saw through your deflections.
One night, after too many drinks and an argument that left you both seething, he’d grabbed your arm as you turned to leave. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” he’d spat, his voice low and dangerous.
You’d stared at him, something raw and unspoken passing between you. “No,” you’d said quietly. “I think we’re both just really, really fucked up.”
He hadn’t let go right away. And in the silence that followed, something unspoken settled between you—a fragile truce, an understanding that you were both running from something neither of you wanted to name.
But your worlds were still too different. While you spent your days trying to keep your life from spiraling further out of control, Rafe seemed to thrive in the chaos. He was fire to your gasoline, and every time you got too close, you felt the heat.
You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That the stolen glances and lingering touches were just part of the game he liked to play. But late at night, when the world was quiet and you were alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop wondering: What would happen if you let yourself fall?
You never got the chance to find out.
The months passed, and the tension between you remained unresolved. 
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery glow casting eerie shadows across the tangled maze of Kildare’s backstreets. You had been here before—ducking between alleyways, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. But tonight was different. Tonight, you weren’t just out of luck. You were out of time.
The piercing sound of sirens grew louder, echoing through the quiet night, chasing you like a predator. The adrenaline pumping through your veins was the only thing keeping you upright. Your knees ached from the sprint, but you couldn’t stop now. Not when the alternative was cuffs and a mugshot.
You cursed under your breath, your mind racing as you turned a sharp corner and slipped into a narrow alleyway. It was dark and cramped, but it gave you a moment to catch your breath. Pressing your back against the cold, damp wall, you counted the seconds, hoping—praying—that the cops would pass you by.
Then, the unmistakable sound of heavy boots crunching gravel reached your ears.
Damn it.
Panic clawed at your chest as you scrambled to move, but in your haste, your foot caught on a loose brick. The ground rushed up to meet you, and you landed hard, pain flaring through your ankle and shoulder. You bit back a cry, clutching your injured arm as you tried to push yourself upright.
"Shit," you hissed, blinking back tears of frustration. There was no way you could outrun them now.
“Having fun down there?”
The voice came from above you, sharp and dripping with sarcasm. You looked up, squinting through the darkness, and your stomach sank when you recognized the silhouette. Rafe Cameron stood at the end of the alley, arms crossed, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. His piercing blue eyes practically glowed in the dim light, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made your blood boil.
Of all the people to stumble across you in this mess, it had to be him.
“Great. Just my luck,” you muttered, dragging yourself to your feet with a wince.
Rafe raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to your injured arm. “Looks like you’ve had a rough night.”
“No shit,” you snapped, brushing dirt off your jeans. You glanced nervously toward the street, where the sirens seemed to be growing louder. “And I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got places to be.”
He didn’t move. Just leaned against the wall, watching you with that infuriatingly smug expression. “You’re not going anywhere like that.”
“I’ll manage.” You tried to take a step, but your ankle buckled beneath you, sending you stumbling forward. Before you could hit the ground again, a strong hand shot out to catch you.
You stared up at him, startled, as he steadied you. His grip was firm but careful, and for a moment, his usual arrogance was replaced by something almost… concerned.
“Careful,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “You’re gonna hurt yourself worse.”
You jerked away from him, your cheeks burning. “I don’t need your help.”
“Right,” he drawled, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Because limping around on a busted ankle is working out so well for you.”
“Why do you care, anyway?” you shot back, glaring at him. “Last I checked, you weren’t exactly the Good Samaritan type.”
He shrugged, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and tucking it behind his ear. “Maybe I’m bored. Or maybe I just don’t feel like watching you get arrested.”
“Touching,” you said dryly, but the truth was, you were too exhausted—and too hurt—to argue. The pain in your ankle was unbearable, and your shoulder wasn’t much better. If you didn’t get out of here soon, you’d be spending the night in a cell.
Rafe must have seen the resignation in your eyes because he sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Come on. My truck’s around the corner. I’ll get you out of here.”
You hesitated, staring at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Why would you do that?”
His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Let’s just say I’ve been in your shoes before.”
That wasn’t exactly comforting, but it wasn’t like you had any better options. With a reluctant nod, you let him drape your arm over his shoulders, his other hand sliding around your waist to support you. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and despite everything, a strange warmth spread through you.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he muttered as he helped you limp toward his truck.
By the time you reached it, the sirens had faded into the distance, leaving the night eerily quiet. Rafe opened the passenger door and helped you climb in, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back.
As he started the engine, you leaned your head against the window, exhaustion overtaking you. You didn’t trust him—probably never would—but for now, you were grateful.
“Where are we going?” you asked softly.
“Somewhere safe,” he replied, his voice low and steady.
The rumble of the truck's engine filled the silence as Rafe drove through the dark, deserted streets. You fought to keep your eyes open, the adrenaline of the chase fading and leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through your injured shoulder and ankle, but you bit your lip to keep from making a sound.
Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m fine,” you muttered, though the sharp sting in your shoulder said otherwise.
“Right,” he said, unconvinced. “Well, we’re almost there.”
You didn’t bother asking where “there” was. Arguing with Rafe Cameron was like shouting into the void—completely pointless. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the familiar streets give way to the isolated backroads of Figure Eight. The trees grew thicker, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, and the only light came from the truck’s headlights slicing through the darkness.
When Rafe finally pulled into the driveway of a small, secluded cabin, you frowned. “This… isn’t your house.”
“Nope,” he said, cutting the engine. “It’s a place I use when I need to get away. No one’s gonna find us here.”
The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or relief. You didn’t exactly trust him, but you were too tired to care. If this was some kind of elaborate trap, you’d deal with it later.
Rafe came around to your side of the truck and opened the door. “Come on,” he said, his tone softer than before. “Let’s get you inside.”
You didn’t argue as he helped you out of the truck, his arm steadying you as you limped toward the cabin. The interior was surprisingly cozy, with worn furniture and a stone fireplace that cast a warm glow across the room. It felt lived-in, though you doubted anyone else knew about this place.
“Sit,” Rafe ordered, guiding you to the couch. “I’ll grab the first aid kit.”
You sank into the cushions, wincing as the movement jostled your shoulder. The pain was worse now, no longer dulled by the adrenaline. When Rafe returned, he carried a small, battered kit and a bottle of water. He crouched in front of you, his expression unreadable as he set the supplies on the coffee table.
“This is gonna hurt,” he warned, pulling a pair of gloves from the kit.
“Great,” you muttered, but you didn’t stop him as he carefully peeled back your sleeve to examine your shoulder. His fingers were warm against your skin, and you cursed the way your breath hitched when he touched you.
“You dislocated it,” he said after a moment. “I’ll have to pop it back in.”
Your stomach flipped. “Can’t we just… leave it for now?”
Rafe gave you a look that said he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “If we don’t fix it, it’ll get worse. Trust me, you don’t want that.”
Trust him. The words felt foreign, almost laughable. But as he positioned himself beside you, his hand bracing your arm, you realized you didn’t have much of a choice.
“On three,” he said, his voice low and steady. “One—”
Before he even got to two, he pushed. Pain exploded in your shoulder, sharp and blinding, and you let out a strangled cry. Tears blurred your vision as you gasped for breath, the pain slowly ebbing to a dull throb.
“You okay?” Rafe asked, his tone softer now.
You nodded, swallowing hard. “I hate you.”
A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re welcome.”
The rest of the cleanup was quieter. He wrapped your ankle with surprising care, his touch almost gentle as he worked. You watched him in silence, noting the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. It was strange, seeing him like this—focused, almost… kind.
When he finished, he leaned back, wiping his hands on a towel. “There. You’ll live.”
“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling awkward under his gaze. “For… everything.”
Rafe didn’t respond right away. He just stared at you, his blue eyes searching yours as if he was trying to figure out what to say. The air between you grew heavy, charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle.
“You’re a mess, you know that?” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.
You bristled, narrowing your eyes. “Gee, thanks. Glad to know you’re still a jerk.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his expression softening. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground, getting into all this trouble, and for what? You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.”
You looked away, the weight of his words settling over you. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, and for once, there was no edge to his voice. “But I do.”
The confession hung in the air, raw and unexpected. You turned back to him, your heart racing as you searched his face for any hint of a joke. But there was none. Just the truth, laid bare between you.
“Rafe—”
“I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. “But I can’t stand seeing you like this. You drive me insane, and half the time I don’t even know why I bother, but… I care about you. More than I should.”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to a confession you’d never expected. But as you looked at him, his usual mask of arrogance stripped away, you realized something else.
You cared about him too.
The tension between you crackled like a live wire, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left. His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might close the gap.
But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned back, running a hand over his face as if to steady himself.
“You should get some rest,” he said, his voice rough. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The cabin felt different in the light of day. The warmth from the fire was gone, replaced by a cold chill that seeped into your bones. You hadn’t slept at all the night before—your mind too restless, too tangled with the memory of Rafe’s confession. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything. But the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Rafe’s voice echoed in your mind, his words hanging in the air like an unfinished sentence. “I care about you. More than I should.”
The way he’d said it—quiet, raw, and unguarded—had unsettled you. You weren’t used to that kind of honesty, especially not from him. Rafe Cameron wasn’t supposed to care. Not about you. He was supposed to be the reckless, untouchable bad boy that everyone warned you to stay away from.
So why couldn’t you shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as untouchable as you thought?
You stretched out on the couch, the pain from your injuries still a dull throb in the background, but nothing compared to the weight of your thoughts. The first light of dawn had barely crept through the curtains when Rafe appeared in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the soft glow.
“Morning,” he said gruffly, his voice rough with sleep.
You barely acknowledged him, your gaze fixed on the floor. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“Do what?” he asked, stepping into the room. He’d changed into a worn flannel shirt and jeans, looking as effortlessly put together as always, despite the tension between you.
“Act like nothing happened,” you muttered. You pushed yourself upright on the couch, wincing as you adjusted your shoulder. “We both know that you didn’t mean what you said last night.”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes studying you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. “You think I lied?”
“No,” you said quickly, though it didn’t feel entirely true. “I think you said it in the heat of the moment. Maybe you were trying to fix things or—”
“Or what?” Rafe cut you off, his voice sharper than usual. “You think I can’t feel things just because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve?” His jaw tightened as he took a step closer, eyes never leaving yours. “I didn’t lie. I said it because I meant it.”
The air between you thickened, the words hanging heavily in the space between you. You could feel the pull, the electric tension that seemed to coil tighter with every breath you took. But you were too stubborn to admit it—too scared to believe it was real.
Rafe ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it. But I can’t pretend like I don’t care. Not anymore.”
You stood up, a rush of emotions flooding through you. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Rafe. People like us don’t get to have happy endings.”
His eyes softened for a moment, the hardness in his expression giving way to something more vulnerable. “Maybe we don’t need a happy ending. Maybe we just need to get through the mess we’ve made together.”
For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. His words hung in the air, leaving you caught between something you couldn’t quite define and something you were terrified to face.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.
He stepped closer, his presence almost overwhelming now. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m asking you to trust yourself. You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”
His words struck a chord deep within you. You’d always prided yourself on being independent, on handling everything on your own. But the truth was, you were tired—tired of running, tired of pretending you didn’t need someone. And maybe, just maybe, Rafe was the person who could help you put the pieces back together.
But you weren’t ready for that. Not yet.
You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest in a protective gesture. “I need space, Rafe. I’m not ready for this.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded, a hint of understanding flickering in his eyes. “I’ll give you space. But don’t think for a second that I’m going anywhere.”
The words were both comforting and suffocating all at once. You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but you knew you couldn’t keep pretending like this—like nothing had changed between you.
“I don’t need saving,” you said quietly, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “I’m not some damsel in distress.”
Rafe didn’t flinch. His eyes softened as he took a step back. “I know. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve help.”
There was a long, heavy silence between you, the weight of his words pressing down on you. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t have to do everything on your own.
“I’ll be outside,” Rafe said after a moment, his voice low but steady. “If you need anything.”
You didn’t respond, your gaze already drifting to the window. As he walked out of the cabin, you sank back down onto the couch, your mind swirling with a thousand thoughts, none of which made sense.
But one thing was clear—no matter how hard you tried to push him away, Rafe wasn’t going anywhere.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
A few hours later, you were sitting at the kitchen table, absently staring out at the woods surrounding the cabin. You hadn’t heard Rafe move around, but when you looked up, he was standing in the doorway again, his gaze gentle.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice tentative. “You’re in a lot of trouble right now, and I can help. My family... well, they know people. Good people. I can have my lawyers handle everything, get you out of this mess. You won’t have to run anymore.”
The offer hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sincerity. You hadn’t expected him to offer something so personal—so vulnerable.
You blinked, still processing the offer. “You’d really do that? For me?”
Rafe’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, his gaze softening. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”
You hesitated. The idea of being free from the constant fear of being caught was tempting, but something inside you still resisted. “But... why? Why help me, after everything?”
Rafe’s expression shifted, vulnerability flashing through his eyes. “Because I don’t want to see you suffer. I don’t want you to keep running, thinking you’re alone in all of this.” He hesitated, his voice lowering. “And because, despite all the chaos, I care about you. More than I ever thought I would.”
The silence between you was thick, but this time, it didn’t feel suffocating. It felt like something fragile and real, the kind of thing that could grow if you let it.
You met his eyes, the weight of his words settling over you, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to be as messed up as you’d convinced yourself they were.
“I don’t want to keep running either,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Rafe gave you a soft smile, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. “Then let me help you. Let me fix this. You don’t have to do it alone.”
For a moment, you just stood there, looking at him, the air between you warmer than it had been in a long time. You didn’t have all the answers, and maybe things weren’t perfect, but for once, it felt like you were on the edge of something real.
“I’ll take your help,” you said, your voice steady but filled with a hesitant warmth. “But only if you promise not to bail when things get messy.”
Rafe chuckled, that familiar spark in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”
And just like that, the walls between you crumbled, replaced with something new—something uncertain, but full of promise. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe in a future where you weren’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
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© 2025 rafeskai | All rights reserved. My work is a work of fiction inspired by different characters, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.
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bluem1lls · 2 days ago
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hii, could you write a one-shot where se-mi fucks fem reader after an argument/angry? like including really rough sex, degradation, hair pulling, a strap, etc, anything you feel comfortable with. im sorry if this is too horny this is my ovulation week 💔
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✧₊⁺ but you belong to me
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se-mi x fem!reader
authors note: so clearly, this is very much headcanon shdjdjj i tried mixing both together and this came out! thank you so much to both for the request and i hope u like it!
✦ synopsis: you're so in love with your best friend that is not really a surprise when you two fight because she wants to hookup with a random girl.
but as she sees you sitting next to nam-gyu, talking so close, she needs to show you who you belong to.
content: minors dni, best friends to lovers, jealous se-mi (AAAA), smut, strap on, dom!se-mi x sub! reader, bathroom sex, fingering/oral (r!receiving), slight choking and degradation, hair pulling
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i can't believe my anger lead me to this pathetic path.
sitting here, with nam-gyu. that's like... as low as you can get.
"why are you here, doll?" he says, staring at me. "like, don't get me wrong, i'm happy that you decided i'm the best option to hang out but... don't you have a little bodyguard that you're always with?"
i frown as i stare at a blank point. "she decided it's best to go fuck a random girl than staying with her best friend"
se-mi and i have been best friends since senior year from high school. we did everything together, that even lead to eachother being our first kiss for example, but we always said it was a way to experiment, for when the real time comes.
of course, that didn't stopped me from falling for my best friend.
so when we met this new waitress at our usual coffee shop that couldn't stop poiting "how pretty se-mi's piercings are", i didn't liked her.
i was hugging se-mi, feeling cold and confused as she broke our hug to chat with a random girl. random! girl!
that's was so mean of her.
i mean, she has no idea of the feelings i have for her but... she can't be that blind?
right?
so, that lead to us fighting at se-mi's house afterwards, where we were having the last hangout of the year with our group and a few others.
the 'fight' being me telling her how much i didn't liked this new girl as she replied by scoffing and rolling her eyes.
like always.
that brings me to present time. where, the party has already started. i can see se-mi talking and laughing with this girl (she even invited her, i can't believe it!) while im sitting next to nam-gyu, a boy who i know she really fucking hates but just got used to his presence because we're in the same friend group.
"i think the word you're looking for is jealous" he keeps with the conversation. he chuckles as i stare at him like he was insane.
"don't say that. i'm not jealous. i just think it's stupid that i tell her 'oh hey don't hook up with her, she gives me bad vibes' and she still goes for it!" i tell him gesturing with my hands, getting angry all over again.
"you're too pretty to be jealous, doll" nam-gyu says, staring at me.
"maybe not more than a random blonde" i mumble, covering my face.
"hey listen. we might not get along great, but" he says, removing my hands out of my face, making me stare him. "you're the most gorgeous girl in this trashy party" we both chuckle.
i smile, thankful. he's actually making me feel better.
"thanks, i can't believe i'm saying this but... you're actually a decent person" i spoke, smiling.
he grins as one of his hands goes to grab a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear.
as he was getting close, a hand grabs the neck of his shirt from behind and pulls him away.
"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" se-mi says to him, her face twisted in anger and betray. her stare now focus on me as she frowns. "were you going to kiss him? for real?" she scoffs as she lets nam-gyu free of her hold and sarcastically chuckles.
i stare at her, confusion all over my face.
what was she talking about?
getting up from the couch, i stand in front of her.
"i don't get it. if i get in between your hookup i'm a bitch but you interrumpt a conversation and you're a heroe?" i say close to her face. we're standing a few inches apart. i can feel her breath on my face. i know she's mad. she has the same harsh look everytime thanos or nam-gyu say something that she doesn't like, before punching them.
but i'm not used to her staring at me that way.
"this is ridiculous. we're all having a good time. we'll talk about this later" i say turning around, heading to the bathroom.
i can hear her loud steps following me as i enter to the bathroom. she pushes the door before i can close it and enters, closing the door behind her.
she walks towards me, taking a deep breath as she stares my features. annoyance is clear on her face.
"what the fuck? nam-gyu? that's who you choose to go for, out of all the people here?" her expression growing with irritation.
"oh i'm sorry, i thought you were too busy with the blondie to notice my presence!"
"what are you talking about?" she says like i'm insane. "why does she makes you so angry? you never aprove of anyone i try to hookup." she says, scoffing.
"well, im just looking out for you"
"bullshit." se-mi replies, her expression growing angrier "you push me away, you flirt with nam-gyu-"
"flirt with nam-gyu?" i say, stopping her mid-sentence, confused. "what are you talking about? i wasn't flirting with him!"
"you were. you literally let him get close to you, touch your hair"
"you do that, my friends sometimes do that, i thought it was friendly" i shrugged. was he really flirting with me? "i didn't noticed. i promise"
she gazes into my eyes and looks for any sign of a lie in my face. her stare softens once she sees that i'm not lying to her. she steps closer to me, her body still tense.
"it made me so angry seeing you with him" she said, avoiding my eyes. "i thought you were trying to make me jealous on purpose and.." she stops and pins me against the wall. "it was driving me crazy"
my heart beats like crazy, i feel my cheeks heating up from how close she's standing to me.
"wh-why did it drive you crazy?"
her eyes becoming darker, filled with possessiveness. her raw voice, talks in a low tone.
"why do you think? i want you. all the times i hate seeing someone else get too close to you? i knew i was a little too much overprotective over you but," she stops, lifting my chin so i can stare into her eyes. "tonight? you ignoring me and talking to him instead? made my blood boil. i wanted to bend you against the table and fuck you right then and there so everyone can see who owns you."
i felt a heat set on my lower stomach, my panties becoming soaked for her words. i bit my lip as my stare drops to her lips.
her breath hitches. she swallows hard while closing the distance between us, trapping me against her and the wall. her lips capture mine with a kiss, her hands roaming all through my body as she settles on my throat, squeezing to remove air from my lungs. my hand wraps around her bicep, squeezing it one the choking becomes too much.
the kiss turning into a hungry, desesperate one. deepening as her tongue enters my mouth.
"you have no idea how much i want you" i moan in between kisses as her hands lower to my waist.
"if you keep saying things like that, i'll fuck you here, no time to take you to the bedroom" she says, eyes darkened with desire.
i nod as her kisses go lower to my neck, bitting, licking and leaving hickeys as i whimper.
"when i finish fucking you stupid, you're gonna go show him your hickeys and tell him who left them there" she says in a growl.
i nod, completely at her mercy.
she kneels, her hands slowly going under my skirt as she pulls it up, making me hold it.
"you and this miniskirt have been driving me insane all night" she says, her fingers teasing my folds over my panties. "look at you baby, you're soaked. you ruined this pretty pair of undies. being my whore made you this wet?" she says, her fingers still softly tracing my cunt, feeling the wetness.
"all for you, all for you. please se-mi" i beg whimpering, my puffy clit needy for stimulation.
"please what baby? use your words like the grown girl you are" she says, her eyes dark and feral, staring at the wet patch growing on my underwear.
"please fuck me."
her eyes graze all over my face as a smirk forms in her lips. i whimper as her fingers grab the elastic band of my panties. her face so close i can feel her breath against my cunt, making me clench to nothing. her tongue can't help but swipe across.
i moan, one hand holding to my skirt as the other one heads to grab her hair to pull her closer. she chuckles at my desperation, giving another flick of her tongue.
finally, she slowly begins to pull my panties down, removing them.
cold air hitting my clit, making me squeeze my thighs. her breathing getting heavier as she parts my legs, seeing the wetness covering my inner thighs.
she grabs my leg and places it on top of her shoulder, getting closer to where i need her the most. her fingers slowly teasing my clit as i give her a choked moan.
her tongue meets my clit, giving kitten licks as her fingers lower to tease my entrance. i yank her hair, trying to pull her even closer, making her stop. my eyes become watery.
"n-no wait, wh-why did you stop" i whimper, so needy.
"you're such a brat. you tease all night, you make me angry and you want me to take it to your pace?" she says, two of her fingers enter without warning in my soppy cunt, making me moan loudly. "you'll do as i say when i say it, you're my slut" she stares at me, as my eyes threaten to shut close from pleasure. i nod, making sure she knew i understood.
"lets fuck the attitude out of you, hm?" she says, her tongue meeting my clit once again as her two fingers curl inside of me with no mercy.
her tongue flicks on all the right places, fingers never leaving my inside as she thrust deeper and harder, making me clench.
"i-if you keep going i'll cum...i'm gonna cum please" i moan loudly as her pace seems to go even faster.
my head against the wall, feeling completely overwhelmed by how good she's fucking me. i can hear the squelching sounds of my pussy as she keeps thrusting, hitting that spot that makes me wanna crumble for her.
she keeps eating me, soft moans leaving her mouth, turning me on even more.
then suddenly, when i'm about to hit the climax, everything stops.
i open my eyes wide as i see her smirking playfully in between my legs.
"you're ready to take my cock princess?" her voice dripping in lust as she stood up. she grabs my hips and bites my pouty lips, kissing me once again.
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she pounds with no mercy into me with her fake cock, my eyes rolling back from pleasure as i feel her hand squeeze my throat, choking me as she thrusts harder.
"you like it baby? you like my cock?" she says, heavy breathing as i mumble something that sounds like "yeah..yes..yeah"
she keeps slamming into me as her fingers leave my throath and go straight to my aching clit. she circles as i clench, showing i'm getting closer and closer to my release.
my moans get louder as she goes deeper and faster.
"you're gonna cum for me princess? i wanna feel you tight around my cock" she says, her moves never stopping.
i nod, desesperate. "se-mi.. baby i love-i love you so much.. so so much-" i cry out as my mouth opens in a "o" shape.
heat positions in my lower stomach, expanding more and more with each thrust, until it snaps.
i pull her by the neck, kissing her deeply to shut my loud moan as i cum. my cunt pulsating around her cock as she never stops moving, making my orgasm last even longer, while she hungrily returns the kiss. her hand leaving my clit and settling on my throat, choking me while she bites and pulls my lower lip.
"i love you so much princess" she says, slowly pausing her thrusts.
as she pulls away her cock leaves my insides, making me whine as i let my body go numb against the bed. my eyes closing as i feel her move from on top of me to sit besides me
her hands position behind my head, pulling me up to drink some water.
i open my eyes to see her hair sticking to her face, cheeks flustered and her eyes dilatated.
as i stop drinking and slowly sit myself in bed, she kisses me once again, her tongue exploring once again my mouth. the feeling that i'll never get tired of this sits on my chest.
"you didn't think this was all, right baby?" she smirks, breaking the kiss and grabbing my hips.
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"you're such a good slut, you like this huh? being a whore for your best friend? this' what you wanted?" she teases me as her cock slams into me from behind, spanking me, leaving a red mark of her hand.
tears running my cheeks from pleasure and humiliation. the moans that came from my mouth chanting her name sounded almost pornographic.
"poor baby, all she ever wanted was to go dumb on my cock. you're taking it so good, my little slut"
she had me on all fours, rutting into me, making me take her whole lenght.
her black strap hitting places that made me scream from pleasure. my face against her pillow trying to quiet the moans she took out of me by fucking me ruthless.
"you only wanted me to fuck you dumb, fuck that bratty attitude out of you. look at you now" she said, spanking me as she went harder. "pathetic whiny baby"
one of her hands on my hips, helping her slam deeply into me, while her other hand threads my hair and pulls it, making me lift my face from the pillow with a moan.
"i dont hear you screaming princess, and neither can the idiots downstairs. i bet they want you like this, but you're all mine" she whispers in my ear bringing me closer to her chest without removing her cock, who fucks into me while my slick is covering it entirely.
she keeps pulling my hair harder and tighter. her moves becoming sloppier as her hand sneaks to play with my clit.
the circles over it and her cock thrusting non stop to my squelching cunt made me clench, the release feeling so close again.
"se-mi..se-mi i'm coming again" i cried as she kept slamming and pulling my hair so i couldn't fall against the pillow. my moans becoming louder with each thrust.
the pleasure taking all over my body, i cried as i felt myself reach the climax. she kept going with her moves, but started to slow down, softly grabbing my body to prevent me from falling hard onto the matress.
she pulled away, the feeling of nothing filling me left me whining. my body lays in bed as my breathing tries to become normal. i felt like i was passing out.
she lays besides me, moving my body to be almost resting on top of her as she kisses my head.
"i never wanted anyone else. and you're dumb for not telling me about your feelings. we could've done this sooner" she chuckles as i nod, tired.
"i wasn't flirting with nam-gyu. i always wanted you" i said with my eyes close, almost falling asleep.
"i know baby. but tomorrow he'll see the hickeys and i'll be happier" she mumbles, closing her eyes to doze off.
i hear a few knocks on the door as we both open our eyes.
"why do we get all the cleaning and you two get the sex? that's so unfair" thanos said, knocking again on the door.
we could hear him and nam-gyu mumbling as thanos laughed at him.
"a chance? "thanos snorts, teasing nam-gyu. "you're stupid if you thought se-mi would let you get an inch close to her" he says as the other guy shushed him.
se-mi scoffs as she hugs me, forcing me to close my eyes and doze off.
who knew falling for your best friend could end this good?
295 notes · View notes
inkdrinkerworld · 1 day ago
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Fake I.D
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synopsis: cowboy!james is infatuated with you and your flirting, so you take him line dancing to get him to make a love
cw: suggestive content, 18+ only, grinding, flirting, use of the word pervert, James and reader are kind of idiots in love
Your hot pink and white boots will be the death of James and he knows you know that.
He can count on one hand how many times he’s seen you out of them and the total number of times is one- every other time, it’s been those godforsaken hot pink and white boots with a thick heel that makes your legs look like something out of his teenage wet dreams.
You’re not new in town, you and James have known each other since primary school but it was in secondary school that you really plagued his every waking thought. You were pretty, and kind, but also confident and didn’t take shit from anyone. James found it wildly attractive.
You and James hadn’t been close friends, but you’d always been friendly. His friend Sirius had introduced you both at a party, and you’d been friendly since that.
The turning point in you and James’ friendship had come not too long after you’d started working at a salon.
James’ parents own the biggest horse farm in town, and you’d rescued a tiny colt that had been trapped up in some bushes while you were on a hike, and drove it to James’ family ranch in the back of your pickup with tears in your eyes because of the cuts on its legs.
James had never seen you, loud, confident you, in tears like that and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest as you hiccuped through your words to tell him about the colt. He and his dad had taken it out of your tray and everyday the colt was on the ranch, you went over to check on him.
Eventually, James was able to nurse the poor thing to perfect health and then asked you if you wanted to name it after his dad told him they’d keep it.
James wasn’t shy himself, but sometimes when you looked right into his eyes, lashes framing your eyes, it made his heart stutter.
“You really think I should?” You had asked, eyes wide with excitement but also a bit of apprehension.
“Yeah, ‘course. It’d only be right.” and as you had stroked the near blood coloured mane, the face of the horse in your other hand, the name came to you easily.
“Copper.”
You and that horse and James had been inseparable after that and James nearly lost his breath every time you went to the ranch after that- cutoff shorts, hot pink and white boots and shirts James swore made him feel like a pervert.
Now, you’re at James’ ranch, a brush in Copper’s mane as you look at James tending to his own filly- Moondancer.
“Please Jamie? It’s fun and you never stay for the dancing.”
He knows he’s fighting a losing battle. You’re doing those puppy dog eyes and you’ve got red eyeliner on to match your shirt and James feels a little overwhelmed with his attraction to you.
“I’ll be your partner all night, Jamie. Won’t leave you to be eaten up by the ladies- save that luxury just for me.”
You giggle when he sputters and his cheeks flush. “Alright, angel. What time do I meet you at the Boneyard?”
You gasp, all faux aghast. “You won’t pick me up at my house? Where’s your southern hospitality?”
James rolls his eyes, “I can do that too. Say seven or eight?”
You pop your hip as Copper nuzzles into your hand. “Will you be all done by then? I don’t want you to cut into your chores and stuff Jamie?”
You’re so earnest, and the flirting has been put to a pause making James turn to goo.
“I’ll be all done, angel. Don’t worry.”
At five thirty, you’re all finished with your makeup, nothing too extreme, just a smokey eye with glitter on your lids and the heavy black eyeliner you noticed James likes.
Your hair is out and ripples down your back in loose curls, your most recent haircut making them look even better than usual.
You’re not trying to impress him, but you have a plan for how tonight is going to end and you want James to finally take all your flirting as seriously as you mean it.
So you dress up and pull out all the stops that you know he likes- the hot pink boots a must, your low rise jeans, and your skirt that says, ‘save a horse.’
When James knocks, you squeal, boots clacking as you race to the door.
“Hey Jamie,” you sing-song as you pull the door open, James taking in a deep breath as his eyes rake over you.
“You look stunning.” There’s a little husk to his voice that you love.
As he gives you a once over, you do the same. He’s dressed in his most relaxed pair of jeans, a blue wash that makes his already thick thighs look ever thicker, a black t-shirt that clings to his arms and nearly makes you drool and his hat. God you love and hate his hat- you love it because he looks stunning in it; but you hate it because it hides away his pretty curls. God you love those curls.
“So do you, Jamie.I like your shirt, it makes your arms look nice.”
He smirks, a little emboldened. “Oh yeah?”
You nod, stepping out of your door, “Ready to go?”
James nods and holds his arm out to you, smiling to himself when your hand wraps around his bicep and not his forearm.
The Boneyard is packed as it usually is, most of the patrons are already more than a little drunk, but you spot some of the girls at your salon, some of James’ friends and some tourists who’re no doubt in tonight for the line dancing.
“A cherry vodka angel?” James asks, wanting a drink to dispel some of his nerves.
“Yes please, James. I’ll go see what songs they have for tonight.”
James nods, watching you walk off first before going over to the bar. Sirius is working tonight, a smirk on his face as he spots James and then spots where he’s looking.
“Finally doing something about all her flirting, Potter?” he asks and James flushes a little as Sirius passes him a beer and then makes your drink without James saying a word.
It takes him a little by surprise that Sirius knows it, but then it dawns on James that he talks about you a lot to his best friend. A lot.
“Trying, but she makes me so fucking nervous, Pads.”
Sirius laughs, patting James on the arm.
“Doesn’t sound so bad, Jamie. You’d be a fool not to be nervous about that girl. She’s trouble all over in the best way.”
James is very inclined to agree.
“Hey Siri, you being nice to James?” You take your drink gratefully and take a sip.
“I was about to ask you the same thing, trouble.” You shrug with a pretty devious smile on your face- James’ heart rate picks up. “Saw you looking at the setlist, you and Potter planning on dancing?”
You nod, smiling when you look up and find James looking at you with fondness written boldly on his face. He’s easy to read, never one to guard his feelings, James.
“Yeah, they’re finally doing Fake I.D again so I figured I’d take James’ virginity in that regard.”
James, bless him, doesn’t sputter, which he’s eternally grateful for. Sirius shares a wicked grin just like yours.
“Don’t make it too vulgar, Remus’ll run you off the dance floor.”
You put your hands up, “I make no promises.”
James is saved from any more teasing from either of you when the song starts playing.
“C’mon Jamie, it’s starting.” He lets you pull him after he downs the last of his drink.
“What if I mess it up?” He whispers as you tug him along. Your hair whips at his chest as you turn to look back at him and he can smell your vanilla shampoo and shuts his eyes for a brief moment.
“You won’t, just follow my lead. You’ll be perfect.”
It takes him a couple steps to get into the song, but seeing you smiling and giggling makes James fall deeper into the music.
The floor rumbles with everyone’s steps, but all you can think about is James behind you as you dance in a circle.
“James!” you squeal when you feel his hands hold onto your hips, James smiling wide as you lean into him a little.
As the guitar solo riff continues you know you have to stay close to James for this part. It isn’t hard because it seems like you’ve both magnetized to each other more than before. As the beat drops, you feel like time has slowed, the words filter into your ears all muffled and soft as you pull James close by his shirt, your chests pressed together. “Hey mister, won’t you sell me a fake i.d.”
You see his breath hitch more than you feel it. You’re both grinding on each other on the dance floor, and it’s way more erotic than anything else either of you could’ve been doing.
“Fuck,” you feel the whisper as James’ hand cements itself to your hip and one of yours buries in his hair.
You tip his hat onto your own head and you swear James’ chest rumbles. “Angel.”
You’re breathless as you and James dance, you feel like you’re the only people on the dance floor.
He dips you backward and you bite back a moan when one of his hands travels up your back to keep his hat on your head. As he picks you up, his fingers knot in your hair and your lips just barely meet.
“James.” You breathe his name and he groans.
“You really are trouble.” his lips meet yours, tentatively at first, and then his mouth consumes yours the moment you kiss him back.
You pull apart and smile, “Took you long enough, James.”
He shakes his head, his dimple poking out as he chases your lips. “You look so good in my hat.”
His stare turns you a little shy and you duck to hide your face in his chest; James laughs at the action.
“Come outta there, sweetheart. Can’t hide those eyes from me now.”
You groan, but look up at him. “Have you always been this smooth?”
James nods, tipping your chin up just a bit higher to kiss your lips again. “Just for you,” you beam at that. “My heart’s thumping.”
“Mine too,” You kiss his jaw, teeth scraping a second path. “Wanna get out of here?”
James slips his hand in your back pocket eliciting a keen he wants to hear more of. “Get your cute butt in my truck, angel.”
You giggle as James squeezes before releasing you, holding your hand with his hat sitting proudly on your head as you stomp your feet out of the bar to his truck. He really does love those hot pink boots.
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captain-huggy-bear · 2 days ago
Note
"Can- Can you come over please?" (I believe prompt list 1 number 80?) with whoever you're inspired for please 😊 thank you! - em
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Em, it was giving soft boy Luke who's maybe feeling shitty after a bad game, so I hope you like it. First time writing Luke so I'm super sorry if it doesn't feel right for him (as we think of him because obvs we don't know him but still) Also I like how I was like let's write something short and then...just kept writing...😂 Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist
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You'd been friends with Luke Hughes for almost as long as he'd been in New Jersey, both of you new to the city at the time had stumbled into each other quite literally one wintery afternoon. Your coffee going all over his hoodie, his doughnut squishing chocolate icing over your sweater. You'd expected him to yell, instead you learnt that day how utterly sweet and kind Luke Hughes was. He replaced your coffee and refused to let you buy him a new doughnut, but did let you invite him over so you could put some stain remover on his hoodie.
You might be thinking, 'are you crazy? Inviting a strange man to your apartment?', but you can only explain your risk through two pieces of information: 1) You knew roughly who he was. You weren't a fan of his by any means but you followed Hockey and had heard about the newest addition to the Devils, so you at least knew he wasn't a criminal, 2) Luke Hughes had been wearing snoopy socks and something about that had screamed 'non-threatening'.
Looking back it was probably slightly insane on your part, but it bagged you a close friend who you may or may not have had a massive crush on, so you couldn't really say you regretted risking it.
It wasn't unusual for Luke to phone you after a game, more often than not you got a quick phone call or a few texts sent through while he was out celebrating or commisserating with the team, often being invited out even when he knew you weren't much for late nights out on the town.
It was unusual though for that phone call to come in at 1 in the morning while you were sleeping.
You're groggy and half awake, hand patting the bedside table until you grip your phone, Luke's ringtone blarring through the speakers only because he was one of your few exceptions. One of a handful of people who could call you after 11pm without being sent straight to voicemail, the others being your family.
"Lukey? It's..." You stop to squint at your alarm clock, "1:41 in the morning, what's wrong?" You knew the game had ended late, but Luke should have been in bed by now or he should have been out partying with Jack and the boys, definitely not phoning you. You half expected him to be drunk on the other end of the line, maybe having phoned you while out with the team.
Instead his breath is shaky on the other end of the line, voice raspy like he's been crying and that's what has you sitting upright and swinging your legs out of bed before he even finishes his question.
"Can- Can you come over please?" His voice is scratchy and strained, a rasp that sounds defeated. You don't even considering getting changed from your pajamas, you just throw a jacket on from your closet.
"Yeah, yeah, of course, what's wrong?"
"Just...just come over please, angel" You're quick timing it as you shove your feet in a pair of shoes and grab your keys off the side, locking your apartment door behind you. It didn't matter to you that it was nearly 2am or that you hadn't brushed your hair or that you were half-asleep, all that mattered was Luke and the way he sounded like the world might be just a little too much for him right now.
"Okay, okay, want me to stay on the line?"
"No, just...drive safe?" You pause in the hallway, heart hurting at his concern, that even now when he's begging for your help he cares that you're safe.
"Yeah, course, Lu, i'm leaving right now, sweetheart." He lets out a shuddering breath on the line, right before he hangs up and you're certain you might cry because God, Luke shouldn't sound like that, so utterly defeated, so fragile.
You do your best to honour his request on the drive to his and Jack's apartment, even as you want to break a hundred traffic laws just to get there sooner, but you don't. It doesn't take long, but ten minutes feels like one hundred when all you want is to be see Luke and make sure he's okay.
He's at the door from the first knock and you don't say anything, just take him in. His tall form hunched at the shoulders like he's trying to hide within his hoodie, hood pulled over his head and eyes red rimmed, blotchy. There are dark, deep circles beneath his eyes and his lip is bruised and split, a few neatly placed stitches holding it together.
You don't say anything, just step forward and wrap him in your arms as best you can, tiptoeing to press your chin to his shoulder, arms tight around him as if you can protect him from whatever is going on in his head.
He grasps as you like you're a lifeline, fingers digging into your jacket, face pressed so tight to the crook of your neck that you're certain he'll fuse there.
He doesn't protest when you pull him into his apartment, door slamming shut. Doesn't protest when you pull him to his room, asking where Jack is, only to get a short clipped reply of 'club'. Doesn't protest when you sit him on his bed and join him, shoes being kicked off. It's not until you try to pull away from him that he really seems to come to life, hands grasping you firmer, pulling you back, "Don't go, please don't go..."
"'m not going anywhere, Lu, it's okay..." You pull back just enough that you can pull his hood back, fingers carding through his brown curls gently like he might break. "What happened?"
"Just needed you..." His face presses back into your shoulder as your fingers work through his hair like it's a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend, like he didn't call because he had a shit game, because he doesn't want to talk about it."
"Lu...talk to me, baby"
There's a stark silence, broken only by a shaky breathe that comes from Luke as if the idea of talking is enough to make him cry for the second time that night. "I'm...i'm not good enough for the team, did a shit job tonight and we lost...it's my fault. Played like shit."
"What did Jack say?" You're gentle with it, soft voice, soft fingers on the nape of his neck. It's silly, he knows he's being dramatic, he also knows that it's not a friend thing to do. Knows he wouldn't call any of his other friends at near 2am because he needs them, knows he wouldn't beg for their fingers in his hair to sooth him or feel better just by the smell of their laundry detergent and shampoo. Luke knows he called you because he loves you, pretty sure he loved you the moment you excitedly showed him you'd gotten the coffee stain out of his UMIC hoodie.
"I was being too hard on myself, that it wasn't the 'Luke Hughes show'." He immitates Jack's voice, a pouty sort of tone riding his voice because he knows his brother is right even if he refused to sit moping with him and went out drinking instead.
"He's right. Hockey is a team sport, Luke, you aren't even on the ice the entire time! You do not get to decide that you're the reason a game is won or lost, you don't get to shoulder that."
"But.." Your palms cup his face, pulling him up to look at you. Your face is dead serious brows furrowed, lips pursed.
"No, you're a good hockey player. They picked you to play for them because of what you bring to the table and maybe you didn't play your best tonight , but you deserve to be on the team. You can't always be at 100." Your thumbs brush his cheeks under his eyes, like you might be able to wipe away the dark bags there. He looks worn, exhausted, tears just welling in those green eyes of his.
You're not entirely sure he believes you, "If I said I wasn't good enough because I had a bad day at work, what would you say to me?"
"To shut up and stop being mean to yourself..." Luke frowns at you like you're insane for even suggesting something like that, and it's what makes you smile for the first time that night, as if to say I told you so.
"Exactly, so stop being mean to yourself, Lu. You're amazing, i'm always in awe of how you skate..." You brush a curl from his eyes and watch them flutter closed slightly, throat tightening a little because you know this isn't the way you're supposed to feel about your best friend.
"Really?"
"Really..." You watch him carefully, the way he just leans more into your hands like he trusts you entirely to hold him up, the deep swelling of his lip, the beauty marks across his cheeks. "What do you need from me, right now?"
He takes a moment, like the words are stuck on the tip of his tongue whether unsure of how to ask or worried to make things weird. Both of you always toeing the line between friends and something decidedly more romantic.
"Can...can you just hold me? Just stay the night?" He blinks up at you with such big sweet eyes that you're not sure anyone would be able to refuse him, so you don't.
"I can do that."
You treat him delicately, like he's not a nearly 200 pound hockey player that regularly gets body slammed against boards and ice, who's covered in bruises and currently sporting a split lip. You pull him to lie down with you, curling around him like a protective blanket, pulling his face back into the crook of your neck, legs twisting with his. It's definitely not what friends do, but it's what he needs, so he grips you back tight, presses his face firmly into your neck and pulls your leg over his hip to be as close as possible.
You don't move more than the brush of fingers through his hair or down his arm, across his back. Even when you can hear soft snores, the sign of him having fallen asleep, you don't move because as much as Luke said he need this, you kind of need this too.
286 notes · View notes
uconnwbbcrashout · 2 days ago
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last winter break
chapter iii: “i think i’m gonna kiss you”
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paige x azzi
word count: 6.5k
content: swearing, some fluffy banter, and a healthy dose of angst
chapter list: here
author’s notes: after a long wait, it’s finally here!! i wanna apologize for the 100th time for how long this took me to write. as you can tell by the word count compared to chapters i & ii, this one kinda got out of hand. but i'm happy w/ how it turned out and i hope it's worth the wait!! :) enjoy!
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Winter 2022-2023
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AZ: hey, i saw the news
AZ: about your acl i mean
AZ: i hope you’re doing okay p
p (IGNORE): thanks. good as i can be yk
p (IGNORE): surgery went well and all
p (IGNORE): but hey
p (IGNORE): delayed not denied right ?
changed user’s contact name to “p”
AZ: right
AZ: you’ll be okay
AZ: i know it
p: i hope youre right
*****
p: did you see the schedule
p: we play you guys
p: dec 11
p: well i wont be but
AZ: i did!!
AZ: you guys don’t stand a chance btw
p: damn way to kick a girl while shes down az
AZ: sorry?
*****
AZ: happy birthday paige
AZ: you’re so old
p: shut up
p: thank you azzi
*****
p: happy bday az
p: yOu’Re sO oLd
AZ: ok i had that coming
AZ: but thank you :)
*****
p: just saw the clip
p: hope you and your knee are ok <3
p: rest up azzi
AZ: thanks p
AZ: looks like we’re both gonna be on the bench next week
AZ: we’re still beating you guys though
p: well see bout that
*****
AZ: told you so
p: i couldnt even play bro
AZ: and i could??
p: whatever
p: we beatin you in march idc
AZ: sure p sure
*****
Azzi sighs, stretching her thumbs again where they hover over the keyboard on her phone. She’s laid out on her parents’ couch, legs propped up on a pillow, feeling utterly ridiculous as she tries to muster up the courage to send a text to Paige. She scrolls back up through their conversations from the past few months for what must be the eighth time today, overanalyzing every word.
It shouldn’t be this difficult, really—it’s hardly the first time this year that she’s been the one to reach out and text Paige. And she’s literally just trying to ask her if she’s going to a party. It’s an extremely low stakes conversation topic.
And yet here she is, practically ripping her hair out at the thought of pressing "send."
In all honesty, it’s a pretty good way to sum up what this year has been—so much more difficult than it ever needed to be.
And to say it’s been a weird fucking year would be an understatement.
After a disappointing tournament run in March, Maryland’s team changes significantly, so much so that Azzi has a hard time keeping track of it all. Graduations, transfers out, transfers in, new freshman—they're basically an entirely new team by the time the season starts up again in the fall.
And then she meets a girl, Maya, late one night in February when she’s cramming for an exam in the student union. She’s on the track team—a sprinter—tall, and devastatingly pretty. She’s unwaveringly confident, too, sitting across the empty table from Azzi and striking up a conversation with her easily. They end up talking for so long that night that the cleaning staff have to kick them out.
Things just click after that.
It's nice. It’s safe. It’s fun.
It’s sneaking into team housing well past curfew. It’s study dates at their favorite coffee shop on campus. It’s stolen hoodies and cold winter nights, huddled together for heat. It’s good luck kisses and lingering hugs before away games or meets. It’s late-night FaceTimes when there’s hundreds of miles separating them. It’s flower bouquets and greeting cards left on kitchen counters.
It’s something that feels a lot like the beginning stages of love.
And, above all, it makes Azzi happy.
There’s just one persistent, unavoidable problem—there's never enough time. Differing practice schedules. Basketball games and track meets. Press conferences and weight training. Midterms and March Madness. Conference championships and long flights across the country.
And it’s unfortunate, really, because a big part of Azzi thinks things could’ve been different. That maybe in another life—one where they met at a different time—things might have stuck. Things might have been long-term, could have worked out.
But in this life, they don’t.
After that it’s fairly quiet. Some random hookups here and there over the summer. A couple dates that fizzle out by the end of the night.
In the end, nothing she really regrets, but nothing that's as real as those few months were with Maya.
And then she reinjures her knee in December, forcing her to be sidelined. An unfortunately familiar seat on the bench with her name on it.
And then, of course, there's this weird situation with Paige. One that Azzi herself more or less created when she first reached out in August after Paige tore her ACL. It isn't like texting a stranger, but it also isn't like texting the old best friend she once knew. It's something in between, some strange acquaintance-like relationship that leaves Azzi entirely confused as to what she should or shouldn’t say.
Even if it is a bit strange, and maybe not quite ideal, she has to admit that it's still nice to have Paige back in some capacity. And enough time has passed, enough people have come and gone, that Azzi's just starting to warm up to the idea of someday calling Paige her friend again. Just a little bit.
Oh, and maybe Azzi also still finds her to be incredibly attractive.
But that's hardly relevant.
Her phone vibrates in her hand, catching her so off guard that she nearly drops it on her face. Her heart starts pounding in her ears, her stomach fluttering with anticipation—
Damn, it’s just from Diamond.
Azzi groans, clicking the notification.
d💎: you text her yet
Azzi rolls her eyes at her friend’s impatience.
AZ: almost
d💎: you’re actually killing me here
d💎: gimme her number
d💎: i'm gonna text her if you don’t
AZ: absolutely not
AZ: i regret telling you anything
d💎: no you don’t
d💎: now quit stalling and text. her.
AZ: oh my god FINE
Azzi swipes out of their conversation and taps back into her one with Paige.
Here goes nothing.
AZ: hey, you going to that stupid party again this year?
She turns her phone off immediately and slams it face down into the couch cushions, bringing her hands up to cover her face.
Her phone chimes not more than 30 seconds later, and Azzi half expects it to be another text from Diamond asking for updates.
But it isn’t.
p: yo
p: the one at that football players house??
p: maybe. ion know yet
“Oh my God,” she mutters, fingers already flying over her keyboard.
AZ: dude
AZ: it’s literally tomorrow
AZ: how do you not know
p: dude
p: ima busy person
p: my time is valuable yk
p: wbu tho
Azzi tries to fight the smile that’s forming on her face. She thinks for a minute, deciding to answer honestly.
AZ: i was thinking about it
Azzi watches with bated breath as the three dots on the screen disappear and reappear several times.
p: then maybe i will
Azzi sighs, closing her eyes and pressing the side of her phone into her forehead.
I’m never getting a straight answer out of her, she concedes.
*****
If anyone were to ask Azzi, she would argue that a cropped cami tank top with a pair of ripped jeans is perfectly reasonable attire for a casual house party in early January. The below-freezing temperatures are simply irrelevant.
It, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Paige is likely to show up tonight. Azzi doesn’t think about how Paige had hugged her from behind and mumbled, “Looks so good, baby,” the last time she wore this shirt in front of her. She also doesn’t think about how Paige always seems especially distracted when she wears her hair up in a bun like this, blue eyes constantly straying to the lines of Azzi’s neck and collarbones.
She absolutely does not, under any circumstances, think about that. At all.
Azzi just likes to feel and look good is all. She’s got the former down easily, and she thinks she’s managed the latter, too, if the number of people who have come up to her tonight is any indication. Guys, girls, people she recognized and people she didn’t—it didn’t really seem to matter. It felt like there was an endless stream of drinks being offered, numbers trying to be given out, and suggestive conversations directed at her. It was flattering, sure, but none of them had the right tint of blonde hair, the exact shade of blue eyes, the correct build of muscle she had been searching for all night.
She downs the last of her drink, crushing the plastic cup in her hands and tossing it in the trash can behind her. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, checking the time. No texts.
Lifting a hand up to rub at her eye, she yawns and scans the room one more time, debating whether she should just call it a night at this point.
And then she feels it—the soft graze of fingers along her lower back, just above the waistband of her jeans. A warm, featherlight touch, then the familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood and a low voice in her ear.
“Azzi.”
She spins towards her quickly, her breath catching in her throat at the proximity of Paige’s face to hers, just inches away. Azzi leans back a bit, mostly to give herself a chance to breathe, and feels the hand on her lower back slide to lightly press on the side of her hip.
Azzi drags her eyes over Paige then, unable to help herself, taking in the tech fleece pants hanging low on her hips and the black fitted T-shirt straining against the muscles in her arms. Azzi’s a bit surprised to see that she’s wearing her glasses—it’s not something she does very often. Paige is smirking, her blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders, and Azzi swears she must have gotten taller since the last time she saw her.
She manages to catch her breath for a moment, flashing a smile that she hopes doesn’t reveal the nerves that she’s feeling. “Hi, Paige.”
Neither of them seems to know what to do after that because, honestly, what are you supposed to do in this type of situation?
To Azzi’s surprise, Paige makes the first move, stepping into Azzi’s space and snaking her other arm gently around Azzi’s waist. It takes Azzi a few seconds to respond before she leans into Paige and circles her arms around her shoulders. Azzi’s heart rate picks up even more when she feels Paige’s breath being released heavily against her, the tension leaving her shoulders.
“This okay?” Paige asks, her breath hot against the outside of Azzi’s ear. Azzi hums in agreement, settling her head to rest on Paige’s shoulder.
It probably should be awkward, and it is for just a second or two, but muscle memory kicks in and it ends up being more comforting than anything. It’s a hug after all, something they’ve done probably hundreds, if not thousands, of times over the years.
They could be there for a few seconds or a few minutes—Azzi really isn’t sure. At some point she feels someone bump into her as they walk by and that snaps her out of it, makes her realize that they are still at this party and people are definitely looking. She takes a step back and clears her throat, patting Paige’s shoulder once before dropping her arms to her sides.
“You look good, P,” Azzi admits, smiling softly.
Paige coughs and looks over her shoulder for a second before turning back to face her and—
Is she blushing?
She coughs again before saying, “Thanks. You do too, Az.”
Azzi smiles appreciatively, looking down at her hands. “Couple people here seemed to think so, too.”
Paige chuckles. “Yeah, saw ‘em all lined up for you.”
“You been talking to anyone else here?”
“Nah, not really,” Paige replies, waving her hand, and Azzi glances up to meet her eyes. Paige shrugs. “Only really came here for one person, you know?”
Azzi doesn’t have to ask her who that person is—the way Paige’s eyes are trailing across her face tells her everything she needs to know.
“Is that so?” Azzi crosses her arms in front of her, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.
“Mhm.” Paige glances around the room before leaning into Azzi’s space again. “Hey, wanna get outta here? We can go somewhere else or somethin’.”
“I guess I can swing that,” Azzi agrees, hoping she comes across as indifferent as possible.
“Aight, cool.” Paige pats her pockets, searching for her keys. “You take your car here?”
Azzi shakes her head. “No, I walked.”
Paige raises an eyebrow at her, an incredulous look on her face. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did,” Azzi tries again, patting her own pockets to prove that they're empty.
“You walked here,” Paige repeats, still disbelieving. “In this weather.”
“It was only, like, 20 minutes.”
“There’s no way.”
“It’s better for the environment!”
“You’re insane.”
“Oh my God, can we just take your car or not?” Azzi rolls her eyes.
“Always the passenger princess.” Paige remarks, looking smug. “But, yeah, let’s go.” Paige beckons for Azzi to follow her to the coatrack. Paige holds the door open as they pull on their coats, both of the waving their hands over their shoulders as some people call out to them.
The short walk to Paige’s car is quiet, the occasional crunch of footsteps on snow the only sound. Azzi slips into the passenger seat and clicks her seat belt on, watching as Paige does the same in the driver’s seat. Paige drums her fingers quietly on the steering wheel, and Azzi glances out the window to look back at the house they just came from.
“So, uh, where to?” Paige asks, breaking the silence.
Azzi thinks for a moment before turning to Paige with a grin.
“Slushies?”
“Oh, fuck yeah.”
*****
“There’s just no way he said that,” Azzi giggles, readjusting her feet where they rest on Paige’s dashboard. They’re parked outside of Azzi’s parents’ house, heat blasting through the vents, SZA playing softly through the speakers, conversation flowing freely, half-drunken slushies melted and abandoned in the cupholders between them.
“I swear it’s true!” Paige promises.
“He for real told you that you have ‘the shittiest shooting form he’s ever fucking seen’?”
“On God, he did,” Paige laughs, running a hand through her hair. “Coach can be ruthless when he’s pissed off, man.”
“And you wanted me to come to UConn because?”
“Oh, c'mon, Az. You know no one can stay mad at you.” Paige reaches out and pokes at Azzi’s cheek. “Not with that face.”
Azzi pushes her hand away, flustered. “Shut up, P.”
“You know I’m right.”
“Whatever.”
A comfortable silence stretches on then, the two of them taking a moment to enjoy each other’s presence.
Azzi glances down at her watch. “I should probably get going,” she admits regretfully, turning around and rummaging in the backseat for her coat.
“Lemme pull up for you,” Paige insists, putting the car in drive and turning into the driveway.
She feels Paige put the car in park again just as she manages to find her jacket. “Thanks,” Azzi starts, pulling the door handle—
It’s locked.
What the hell?
Azzi yanks on it twice to be sure before turning to level her a stare. There’s a mischievous glint in Paige's eye that she doesn't trust. “So, are you letting me out or what?”
Paige keeps smiling widely at her, not moving or saying anything.
“Paige.”
Azzi watches Paige nod her head towards the front of the house, and Azzi follows the motion to see Curry and Stewie poking their heads through the curtains, their barks echoing off the window. Azzi shakes her head and glances back at Paige. “What is it?”
Paige shrugs, bringing her hands up to rest on the wheel again. “You gotta at least let me see my kids, Azzi.”
“Are you inviting yourself inside my house?” Azzi feels her eye twitching.
“Please,” Paige begs, and then she honest to God pouts at Azzi. “Think I’m due a visitation.”
“You are actually so annoying.” Azzi leans her head against the cool glass of the car window, closing her eyes.
“Is that a yes?” Paige asks, her voice lifting excitedly.
“It will be if you unlock this.” Azzi pulls on the door handle repeatedly.
“Ha, let’s go!” Paige exclaims, pressing the "unlock" button immediately and sprinting out of the car. She’s on the front porch and jumping in place before Azzi even has the chance to close the car door behind her.
“Alright, chill out,” Azzi mutters, brushing past her and turning the key into the lock. Paige pushes the door open the rest of the way and stumbles through the doorframe, kicking her shoes off. She makes it about five feet into the house before she drops to her knees and starts petting and hugging the two dogs racing around her.
Azzi locks the door behind her, and she can’t help the smile that overtakes her face when she sees Paige laid out on the ground, Stewie and Curry clambering over her to lick her face.
“My kids,” Paige coos, cradling Stewie in one arm and scratching Curry’s chin with her other hand. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s home now.”
Shaking her head, Azzi tears her eyes away from the scene and flops onto the couch. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and makes herself comfortable.
Paige stands up after a few minutes and stretches her arms above her head, groaning dramatically. Azzi catches a glimpse of her shirt riding up and her boxers peeking out before she pulls her phone closer to her face, fighting the heat creeping up on her cheeks. Paige doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she luckily doesn’t say anything about it. She moves to peek her head in the kitchen and the hallway before she reenters the living room.
“Nobody home?” Paige asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Azzi grabs a throw pillow off the couch and hurls it at her, but Paige catches it easily. “Stop. They went to a family holiday party thing I think.”
“And how the hell did you get outta goin’ to that?” Azzi feels the couch shake as Paige hops over the back of it and settles in across from her.
She puts her phone down and looks at Paige more fully then. “Like you said, no one can say no to this,” she explains, flashing her signature dimpled smile and pointing at it with both hands.
“I was jokin’ when I said that,” Azzi thinks she hears Paige grumble as she hugs the pillow she’s still holding to her chest.
Azzi goes back to scrolling on her phone, and she sees Paige throw the pillow up in the air and catch it a few times in her periphery.
She hears a heavy sigh, but she ignores it, opting to respond to a few texts from her teammates instead.
Then there’s another sigh, somehow more emphatic than the last, and the push of a foot against her own.
“Azzi.”
Maybe if I ignore her for long enough, she’ll stop, Azzi considers.
“Azzi.”
Just pretend you don’t hear her.
“Azzi Fudd.”
When has that ever actually worked, though?
“Azzi, please.”
Oh my fucking God, why did I let her in my house?
She clicks her phone off and drops it at her side, glaring daggers at Paige. “What?”
“Dude, I’m bored,” Paige complains.
“Dude, you literally do not have to be here,” Azzi points out.
“Entertain me, please.” Paige is practically begging now. “Aren’t you supposed to do that for your guests?”
Azzi closes her eyes and throws an arm over her face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely annoying?”
“Yeah, you. Multiple times today, actually.”
“I was so right about that.”
“Okay, but can we do somethin’?” Paige asks again, kicking at her foot. Azzi kicks back, sliding her arm off her face.
“2K?” she suggests, gesturing to the controllers on the coffee table.
Paige’s eyes light up and she’s up in a flash, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “Fuck yes. Imma be the Lynx, though.”
“Whatever you want.”
*****
“Damn, you letting me win now, Paige?”
“Bro, ‘course not.”
“What’s your excuse this time?”
“Not my fault you keep distractin’ me, Az.”
“Not my fault you can’t keep your eyes off me, P.”
“Shut up. One more, I swear. Then we can quit.”
“Only if you win though, right?”
“Bro, just play.”
“Fine.”
*****
It’s many, many, games later—the clock on the wall having ticked over to the A.M. hours long ago—before Azzi has to tap out, eyes bleary and energy drained.
“Alright, I’m done,” Azzi sighs, tossing the controller on the coffee table and standing up slowly to stretch her back.
“Finally givin’ up?” Paige challenges, raising her eyebrows at her. Amazingly, somehow, she doesn’t look tired in the slightest.
“No, I’m not 'giving up.' I’ll literally fall asleep if we play one more.”
“If you say so.”
“Paige,” Azzi whines, pouting at her. “I just want to go to bed.”
“Aight, let’s be done then,” Paige agrees, setting her controller aside and standing up to stretch out.
“Are you awake enough to drive home?” Azzi questions.
“Me? Imma be just fine,” Paige assures her, moving toward the door. She bends down to pick up her shoes and pulls the curtain aside with a finger to peer outside. “Yeah, it’s no problem—oh, shit.”
Azzi strides over, reaching for the curtain to open it. “What is it?”
“Uh, well,” Paige starts, voice slightly muffled behind the thick fabric. “There’s a—”
Azzi grabs hold of the curtains, yanking them away to reveal the scene outside. Her jaw drops.
“—blizzard,” Paige finishes.
A fresh layer of snow, several inches deep, covers the ground. The wind lifts it up, blowing it around wildly, creating near whiteout conditions. Azzi can barely see Paige’s car parked in the driveway, a mere ten feet away.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Azzi mutters, staring disbelievingly out the window.
Paige furrows her brow, seeming to think something over for a minute. “Nah, I’ll still drive home.” She sits down on the recliner, untying the laces on her shoe.
“Like hell you will,” Azzi scoffs.
Paige looks up at her, pausing her movements. “Bro, chill. It’s, like, a couple blocks.”
But Azzi is persistent, moving to guard the door, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not letting you go out in that.”
“I can drive slow.”
“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” Azzi retorts, readjusting her arms. “Just stay, please. It’s too dangerous.”
“If you’re sure,” Paige concedes, tossing her sneakers behind her.
“I am.”
“Cool,” Paige stands, stretching her arms again. “I got the couch then.”
Azzi rolls her eyes, punches Paige’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t be stupid, P.”
Paige brings up a hand to rub at the spot Azzi hit, wincing in mock hurt. “Ow. Stupid ‘bout what?”
“You can just sleep in my bed. You are a guest after all,” Azzi points out, referring back to what Paige had said earlier.
Paige wiggles her eyebrows for the second time tonight, and Azzi considers punching her again, harder this time. “You want me that bad, huh?”
“Oh my God, stop. Look, I’ll take the couch, you take the bed? That fine?” Azzi offers, rubbing at her eyes.
“That’s dumb. You’re not gonna sleep in your own bed?”
Azzi throws her arms up in the air exasperatedly. “What do you suggest then?”
“I’on see why we can’t both just sleep in the bed,” Paige shrugs, not really meeting Azzi’s eyes.
How the hell did we get here?
“Whatever, sure,” Azzi relents, even though every fiber of her being is urging her to do the exact opposite. “I’m too tired for this. My family is gonna be home soon and I wanna sleep at least a little before they barge in.” She turns away and starts dragging her feet down the hallway to her room, hearing Paige padding quietly behind her. She pushes the door open with her shoulder and immediately goes to her closet, searching for something more comfortable to change into.
In the corner of her eye she spots Paige, shuffling about the room, eyes roaming over her pink bed sheets, the assortment of unicorn stuffed animals on her desk, the rainbow decals on her mirror. “Haven’t really changed much, huh?
Azzi grabs a pair of fleece pajama pants and a T-shirt, chuckling. “I don’t exactly live here anymore.”
“Good point.” Paige nods her head, running a finger along Azzi’s trophy shelf. Her eyes spot one item in particular and she takes it off the shelf. She flips the medal over to study the engraving on the back. “‘2018 Minnesota State Tournament: Class AAAA Champions’,” she reads with a scowl on her face. “Still can’t believe you guys beat us.”
Azzi walks up to her and snatches the medal from her, setting it back in its place. “Still can’t believe you’re not over it. This was, like, five years ago.”
“Aw, c’mon now. That last foul call was bullshit and you know it,” Paige grumbles.
“I think you’re just mad I dropped 30 points on your ass,” Azzi teases.
Paige frowns, crossing her arms. “No one was helpin’ me on defense.”
“Uh huh. Look, I’m gonna get dressed and stuff,” Azzi calls over her shoulder on her way to the bathroom. She pauses in the doorway and points a finger at Paige accusingly. “No touching anything else.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Paige promises with a mock salute.
Azzi changes into her pajamas and gets ready for bed as quickly as her fatigued body will allow, which is to say not very quickly at all. By the time she’s done, she’s so drained that she’s sluggishly dragging her body back to her room.
She’s rounding the corner into her room, dirty clothes from the party in hand, when she happens to look up. She chokes on air, clothing falling out of her hands, and stumbles to regain her balance.
Paige is sprawled out on her bed, hair splaying across her pillows, the light of her phone screen lighting up her face.
But none of that is the issue here.
The issue here is that Paige is wearing a sports bra and pair of boxers and that’s it.
The lines of her hips are visible, her abs pulled taut, and Azzi suddenly feels like she needs to cover her eyes, unless she wants to start choking on air again. “What the fuck are you doing?” she squeaks out, hands covering her face.
She hears Paige laugh. “It’s hot as hell in here. I’on know why you keep the temp at, like, 75 degrees all the time.”
“So you had to take your clothes off?”
“It’s nothin’ you haven’t seen before anyways.”
“Paige.”
“Azzi.”
Azzi leans against the wall, dropping her hands from her face but keeping her eyes screwed tightly shut. “Can you—God, can you at least put a shirt on or something?”
I’m not sleeping a wink tonight if she doesn’t.
She hears the bed creak slightly and assumes Paige must be sitting up now. “If I gotta.”
Azzi takes that as agreement and blindly feels her way to her closet, searching for the closest T-shirt she can find and pulling it off the hanger. She tosses it behind her in the direction of the bed.
“Okay, Imma get ready too then, I guess,” Paige is saying, the sound of her footsteps becoming more distant as she exits the room.
Azzi expels all the air out of her lungs, finally allowing herself to open her eyes. With shaky legs she makes her way to the bed, tucking herself under the covers. She takes a few more steadying breaths.
Pull it together, Fudd.
Paige is back sooner than Azzi is ready for her to be, but she stops a few feet into the room and gestures at her shirt. “This funny to you or somethin’?”
Azzi takes a moment to actually look at the shirt she unknowingly picked out for Paige and barks out a laugh, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.
The shirt has "St. John’s – State Champs" written across the chest in bold letters, her old high school’s logo below it.
“Okay, I promise I didn’t mean to pick that one,” Azzi swears, unable to contain her laughter.
“I’on believe you,” Paige grunts, sliding into the empty side of the bed. “You know I’d get beat up if anyone saw me wearin’ this, right?”
“Good thing it’s just me then, huh?”
“Guess so,” Paige grumbles, pulling the sheets up to her chin.
“Don’t worry,” Azzi says, smirking. “Your secret is safe with me, Cadet.”
Paige glares at her before rolling over and turning her back to Azzi. “I’m actually done talkin’ to you. Night.”
Azzi turns her bedside lamp off, encasing the room in darkness, save for a few bands of a dim streetlight poking through her blinds. “Night,” she echoes, settling to lay on her back.
She wills herself to sleep then, waiting for the exhaustion she’s been feeling for the past few hours to finally take over.
It doesn’t come.
It shouldn’t be this difficult.
But Azzi’s mind is racing, all thoughts on her former best friend stretched out beside her. Paige, lying in her childhood bed, clad in one of Azzi’s old basketball T-shirts and a pair of boxers, the warmth radiating from her enough to scorch Azzi’s skin even from half a foot away.
“Hey, P?” Azzi whispers, her gaze still glued to the ceiling.
She sees movement in her periphery, Paige angling her head back slightly in her direction. “Hm?”
Azzi swallows hard, attempting to dislodge the lump forming in her throat.
There’s been one question turning itself over and over in her mind all day. A thought that wouldn’t leave her head no matter how hard she tried to shake it out.
God, this is such a bad idea.
“Did you have a New Year’s kiss this year?” she hears herself ask.
Everything is silent then, and Azzi can’t think of many other times in her life where she’s felt as vulnerable as she does now.
The quietness stretches on for an agonizingly long amount of time. It lasts for so long, in fact, that part of Azzi begins to wonder if Paige might have fallen asleep.
“Nah,” Paige mumbles, breaking the silence. She turns fully back onto her side to face Azzi, resting her hands together underneath her head. Azzi feels her heavy stare piercing through the darkness and shivers. “You?”
Azzi shakes her head, sighs, “Me neither.”
She moves to face Paige, mirroring her position, her heartbeat thumping wildly in her ears.
Azzi wets her lips, locks her eyes onto Paige’s.
Fuck it.
“Did you want to have one?” she breathes out.
She doesn’t know what she’s expecting. Maybe for Paige to shove her playfully or smile at her or something like that.
But Paige brings her bottom lip into her mouth, waits a beat, then nods her head.
Oh.
She wants this, too.
Azzi isn’t sure which of them is leaning in, but suddenly Paige’s face is just inches from her own, her breath warm against Azzi’s lips.
“Are you sure?” Paige whispers.
Am I sure I want this?
Absolutely.
Am I sure we should be doing this?
Well...
Despite her doubts, Azzi swallows and nods her head.
Paige is the one to close the gap between them, hesitant, at first, and gentle, just the soft press of her lips against Azzi’s own. A tentative reunion, two aching souls finally coming back home to each other.
And then the kiss turns needy, hungry, and Paige is bringing a hand up to cup her face, sliding the other down to Azzi’s waist. Azzi does the same, tugs slightly to bring Paige to hover slightly over her. Paige is kissing her hard now, pressing her into the bed, exhaling heavily, making Azzi’s heart flutter uncontrollably.
Azzi makes a decision then, pulls back just slightly and uses her tongue to part Paige’s lips, shivering when she feels Paige sigh against her mouth. The action seems to spur Paige on further because she’s shifting again, slipping her leg in between Azzi’s, applying just a hint of pressure, building up a low heat there.
Paige is relentless, kissing her with such fervor that it makes her head spin. Azzi feels a thumb dip below the waistband of her pants, caressing against her hip, and for some reason that snaps Azzi out of the dizzy haze she's found herself trapped in.
Azzi breaks the kiss, lightheaded, because if she doesn't do it now she thinks they might never stop.
Paige rests their foreheads together for a moment. She leans back, shifts her body off Azzi’s, her pupils blown out and her chest heaving.
“There,” Azzi hears herself say, breath uneven. “Happy New Year.” Then she rolls away from Paige, heartbeat still erratic in her ears, shaking hands pulling the covers back over herself.
She feels the bed shift a minute later as Paige wordlessly turns away from her.
Azzi brings her fingers up to touch her mouth, the sensation still lingering there.
It’s hours before sleep finally finds her.
*****
Azzi wakes to the afternoon sunlight hitting her square in the face, and she pulls a pillow over her head to block it out. Groaning, she blindly sticks an arm out beside her, feeling for a warm body next to her to shake awake.
Her hand comes up empty.
She shoots up in her bed, panic swarming her as she scans across the empty room. Her chest tightens, her throat constricts.
Fuck, she’s gone.
Tears are just starting to prick at the corner of her eyes when the sound of boisterous laughter bounces off the walls of the hallway.
Curious, Azzi follows the sound, finding its source relatively quickly.
The sight is strange enough to raise Azzi’s eyebrows—her dad and Paige, seated on opposite sides of the dining table, laughing over empty breakfast plates.
Paige notices her first, nodding her chin towards her in acknowledgement. “Hey, Az.” She pats the chair next to her. “Sit.”
Azzi doesn’t move, eyes moving skeptically between her dad and Paige. “Hi. What are you guys talking about?”
“Oh, it’s nothin’,” her dad says, but the snickering between the two of them afterwards is saying something completely different.
“This.” Azzi points a finger back and forth between the two of them. “This I don’t like.”
“C’mon, we’re just messin’,” Paige assures, still grinning devilishly.
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Azzi responds sarcastically, opening the fridge door and sticking her head in it, searching for something to settle her rumbling stomach. “So, what are we doing today?”
“Packing, I guess?” Paige replies.
Azzi picks her head up at that and closes the fridge. “Huh, why?”
“Got a flight to Connecticut in the mornin',” Paige shrugs, and Azzi’s heart drops to her stomach.
“You do?” she asks, failing to keep the sadness from creeping into her voice.
Paige looks apologetic, casting her eyes downward. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Forgot to mention it. Speakin’ of, I should head on out soon.” She stands, putting her dishes in the sink before clapping Azzi’s dad on the back. “Good to see you as always, Tim.”
He smiles up at her fondly. “You too, Paige.”
“Imma grab my stuff,” Paige says, brushing past Azzi into the living room. Azzi moves on autopilot, trailing behind her.
It takes Paige all of three seconds to get ready, having only really come here with her phone and the clothes she wore yesterday, which she must have changed back into at some point. Azzi watches her pull her sneakers on, shrug into her jacket.
“Guess this it then,” Paige starts, eyes looking anywhere but at Azzi.
Azzi wrings her hands together, trying to figure out where to go from here. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll see you around then, P.”
Azzi is going to leave it at that, moving her arms to give Paige a quick hug, but then Paige is grabbing her arm and pulling her in closer, lowering her voice. “Don't we need to talk 'bout somethin'?”
“Last time you said that you broke up with me.” Azzi pries Paige’s fingers off her arm.
Paige bristles at that, rubbing at the back of her neck nervously. “Okay, but still. We need to talk.”
“About?” Azzi asks, even though she already knows where this conversation is going. She looks at Paige expectantly.
“We kissed, Azzi. You don’t think we should talk ‘bout that?” There’s a crease between her eyebrows. “I mean, like, what does it mean, you know?”
There are two ways Azzi can play this. She can be honest, tell Paige that she lost hours of sleep over it, that it’s the only thing she’s thought about since she woke up, that it shifted her world off its axis. Can tell her that all those feelings she tried to push down have risen rapidly back to the surface, demanding all of her attention. Can lay it all out in front of them, knowing it could be months before the next time they see each other again.
And then there’s a second option.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Azzi is saying, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.
Maybe it's time for the ball to be in Paige's court now.
Paige shakes her head exaggeratedly, her face screwed up in utter confusion. “It doesn’t?”
“Not unless we want it to,” Azzi continues, making her expression as unreadable as possible.
“Well, do you?”
Azzi hums noncommittally, looking down at her nails. “Probably easier if we just forget about it, right? I mean, it was only one kiss.”
There’s conflict painted clear across Paige’s face, her mouth opening and closing several times like she can’t quite figure out how she’s supposed to respond to that. She bites her lip hard, so hard that Azzi is a little concerned that she’s about to draw blood.
“I—I, uh,” she stutters, and Azzi can’t remember the last time she saw her look this flustered. “No, yeah. For sure. Just a kiss.” She nods her head once, like she’s trying to convince herself.
“Good, I’m glad we agree,” Azzi replies, even if she doesn’t really mean it.
Paige scratches at the back of her neck again, clearly not anticipating the conversation to go like this. “Yeah. So...maybe I’ll see you in March or somethin’?” She offers a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
Azzi shrugs. “Maybe you will.”
*****
She doesn’t.
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zweiginator · 2 days ago
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queen can we get more law student pat before school inevitably starts again
wait yessss send in ideas!! i was supposed to start school tomorrow but it’s snowing really bad so now class is cancelled 😛
thinking about douchebag law student patrick, his father throws money at him, bought him a house and said he’ll pay for law school—he just doesn’t want to hear him getting in trouble. wants him to make a name for himself and grow up. but patrick is still girl crazy <3 still has mommy and daddy issues and likes to party and do drugs. and the first day of fall semester he sets his eyes on you. you’re shy and pretty and he thinks it will be oh so easy to get into your pants.
you say no—you’re not messing around with any of your peers. it’s bad juju. plus, you don’t like how cocky he is.
“you’re not all that you know?”
patrick looks taken aback. but he smiles, staring down at you. “you’ll warm up to me.”
but as the semester goes on—you don’t think you will. he’s a know-it-all. it’s clear he’s never been told no in his life. he argues with everything you say just for the sake of pissing you off, of knowing you’ll yell at him later in the hallway—calling him a douchebag and telling him to stop fucking messing with you.
but it’s all his plan; he gets so hard when you yell at him. leaves the law building blushing and trying to hide his erection as he walks to the gym.
finally breaking down when you run into him after his work out; his shirt is still off and sweat is dripping down his neck. you look a mess. hair half up and windswept, your bag is falling off your shoulders and your textbooks are tumbling out of your hands but patrick is quick to help you pick them up.
“why is your shirt off?”
you take your contracts book from him. it’s easily over six pounds; for patrick, it looks like he just picked up a napkin from the ground.
“just worked out.”
“aren’t you cold?” it’s november. he should be.
“i will be after i cool off.”
and then patrick just kind of follows you— a lost puppy. you don’t really say anything. you stop at the bus stop.
“what are you doing?” he asks you as you sit on the bench.
“waiting for the bus.”
he’s since put his shirt back on—but you sort of miss the smooth skin stretched over his pecs, peppered in dark hair.
“let me take you home.”
he expects you to say no, but you just get up and follow him, awkwardly.
“i’m not good with rejection.” he says.
“i know that.”
“i’ll take you home and i won’t bother you again.”
but that makes your stomach churn.
“what if you took me to your house?” it just slips out.
he smiles. “i dunno if ill be able to help myself if you come over.”
you don’t even make it back to his. lingering glances and your fingers interlaced, patrick pulls into a random parking lot and pushes your seat back.
“what are you doing?”
he gets on his knees in front of you.
“let me eat you out.”
you’ve never had a guy be so forward. “is that what you want?”
he groans as you unbutton your jeans. “more than anything.” he helps you yank them down your legs. his pretty green eyes stare at you through thick lashes. “be mean to me while i do it.”
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fuctacles · 2 days ago
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<< 14 | 0 | 16 >>
looking for dog-themed songs for the fic playlist
They sit facing each other on the warmed up concrete, having given away the lawn chairs to the girls. Steve is sliding every piece of onion off his skewer and onto Eddie's plate, which sits right next to his for easy sharing. It reminds him of cafeteria meals and swapping snacks with friends, something he never had with Steve, because of how different they were in high school. It makes him wonder if what he's feeling could really be mutual. 
"Are you staying for the movie?"
His eyes snap back up to meet Steve's, waiting for an answer. 
"I guess so. What are we watching?" It might not be the wisest to keep around while figuring himself out, but what is he going to do? Not spend time with his friends? 
Steve rolls his eyes. 
"The jury is still out," he answers dryly. "But I can guess some nerd shit will get majorly outvoted."
Eddie snorts.
"What would you pick? A baseball game?" he asks, chewing on a piece of meat. His fingers are getting greasy, but they forgot to grab napkins and standing up sounds like too much exercise. 
Steve moves the grilled bits on his plate with the now empty skewer. 
"Not really..." he says, all quiet and shy, which immediately grabs Eddie's attention. Wary of the food and drinks between them, he leans in conspiratorially. 
"You can tell me, I ain't a snitch," he reassures, and when Steve looks up, he adds a wink. Steve huffs out an amused breath.
"I like romantic comedies," he admits, watching Eddie warily, like he's awaiting judgement. 
"Huh." He sits back to properly take him in. "That kinda makes sense."
"Yeah?" Steve raises an eyebrow. 
"Yeah." Eddie shrugs, and now he's feeling self-conscious. "It suits you. We could watch something one day, your pick."
Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygods, do not invite Steve for one-on-one romcom watching—!
Steve's face lights up with a wide smile. 
"Oh, I'm going to hold you to that one, Munson," he teases, but it's obvious he's genuinely excited by the offer. 
"Already regretting I said it," Eddie teases back, but offers Steve a strip of bacon so he knows he doesn't mean it. 
Without thinking, he starts licking the grease off his fingers, and it takes him a moment to realize Steve stopped moving. He looks up with a questioning hum, fingertip in his mouth.
"You need a napkin?" Steve asks with a raise of his eyebrows. 
"Nah, I'm good," Eddie mumbles around his finger just to be difficult, and pushes it deeper, sucking with gusto. For once, Steve doesn't look into his eyes, too focused on his mouth. His cheeks are colored the faintest shade of pink, and Eddie finally realizes what he's been doing. He slides his finger out with a wet smack and smiles apologetically. "Sorry. Want me to lick yours too?" he offers, like the good friend that he is. 
Someone nearby chokes, but he's too focused on the bit to check who. Their fault for listening in, right?
Meanwhile, Steve's face turns tomato red. 
"Uh, I'll manage myself. I'm good at licking," he cringes as soon as the worlds leave his mouth, and Eddie almost chokes himself with how hard he laughs.
====
After the party, comes more cleaning. This time, as there's more people and everyone gets forced into using their two hands and opposable thumbs, it goes faster, though with much more complaining.
Sometime in the middle of filling the trash bags, Robin has changed the music. Steve sighs, when the first song plays, but by the next two, his head is nodding to the beat. On the chorus, his hips sway, and Eddie almost drops the plate he's holding. 
"Your song, dingus!" Robin yells when the next song starts, making Steve roll his eyes. But he's shimmying his shoulders and mouthing along to all the lyrics. 
They tie away their bags at the same time, which gives Eddie the misfortune of watching him free his hands and make a silly little dance.
"Well, you ain't never caught no rabbit, you ain't no friend of mine!" he mouths along, and when he catches Eddie staring, he gives him a sheepish smile and a wink.
"Should I find you more dog themed songs to dance to?" he raises his eyebrow with a smile.
"No—"
"Yes!" Robin pops out from behind him, seemingly out of nowhere. "I'm constantly on the look out, but there aren't many good songs. I want to make a playlist." She grins. 
"Oh, I'm in." Eddie smiles back, extending his hand. Their palms slap together, and Steve shakes his head.
"Wow. Traitors." 
"Oh, I'd never betray you, Hound Dog," Eddie declares with a hand to his heart. Steve flips him off.
====
They pick The Battle for Endor, which Steve accepts with a sigh and a quiet "At least it has teddies," something probably only Eddie can hear, since he's sitting right next to him. He starts dozing off halfway through anyway, but Eddie doesn't wake him up until the movie ends and they have to plan how to get the younger lot home. It was a busy day, after all. 
"I'm going home anyway, so I can take them," Nancy offers. 
"Don't be stupid," Steve mumbles in his half-asleep state. "You won't fit them in your car."
"I can get Max and Super Twins," Eddie says, and the grasp around his arm tightens. He looks down at Steve, suddenly awake and frowning.
"You're not staying?" he asks, audibly upset. 
"I'll come back," Eddie reassures him quickly, patting his hand. "Okay! Mad Max, Wonder Twins, grab your shit. The sooner we leave, the closer I am to getting wasted," he commands, gently prying himself out of Steve's grasp. He scratches behind his ear as a consolation. "Should I grab anything while I'm out?"
"No," Steve says quickly, even though Jonathan has already opened his mouth, most probably with a request.
Something twists in Eddie's chest.
"Okay, buddy, I'll be back as soon as I can, no detours," he reassures again, with another scratch. 
"Okay, thanks." Steve closes his eyes briefly, but then blinks them open and pushes at his thigh, like his mind has suddenly cleared from the remnants of sleep. "Be quick, but without breaking the law." He smiles up at Eddie.
"Ugh, fine." He rolls his eyes. "Be right back," he nudges Steve's head before motioning the kids to follow him outside. 
It's suddenly silent, with the movie over and most of the people gone from the room. Steve clears his throat, watching Robin crawl over the carpet to rewind the tape. 
"So only Nancy isn't staying?" he asks, looking around the room. 
"I already told my parents I'm sleeping over." Robin shrugs. 
Jonathan and Argyle look at each other, like they are communicating in a way not dissimilar to Steve and Robin.
"It's good vibes here, man," Argyle says, his hair swaying as he nods. 
"Eddie promised we'll compare the goods," Jonathan adds. 
"Oh, right!" his friend perks up, his eyes sparkling. "Almost forgot about that."
Robin makes a face. 
"God, I really hope you mean the weed," she says. "You think I can still persuade Nancy to come back?"
The boys start snickering, but Steve quickly collects himself to answer her question, no matter how unserious it is. 
"I think she wouldn't be comfortable," he winces, because they all know why. "But I could drive you to hers if you want to?" he offers instead. 
She shakes her head. 
"Nah, just give me a beer and I'll lower my joke standards to yours."
"Okay, you don't have to be mean, Robs," Steve rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. On his way to the kitchen, he tugs on her hair. "Beers for everyone?" He turns to look at each of his remaining guests.
Jonathan nods, but Argyle shakes his head. 
"I don't mix my substances," he says, pulling out a joint out of his pocket instead. 
When Eddie comes back, he makes a beeline upstairs, hoping he hasn't been spotted. He doubts his van hasn't been heard, her old-lady coughs being a part of her charm, but maybe he was stealthy enough inside not to be traced. 
But once he's back down he realizes how foolish that thought was. Because somehow, Steve is ridiculously attuned to him and has his eyes on Eddie immediately, like he's been expecting him. A cold bottle of beer is pressed into his hand when he sits back in the seat that's been waiting for him. 
"Dropped some stuff upstairs, since I'm sleeping over again," he explains quietly without prompting, his nervousness making him yap unnecessarily, as usual. "Uh, are we bunking together too, or...?" It was probably stupid of him to assume, considering there are more people in the house today that need a place to sleep. 
Considering his own freak out this morning. 
"Of course," Steve says with a smile that tells him no other option had crossed his mind. "Unless you don't want to?" he cocks his head, almost like he's tilting curious, pointed ears. "I promise to wear pants this time." 
Jonathan chokes on his beer, and when Eddie snaps his head that way, Argyle gives him a supportive smile and that weird surfer gesture, while patting Jon on the back.
He hopes the dim light of the room hides the flush of embarrassment on his face. 
"Well, since you promise to be decent, how could I say no?" he says, rolling his head back to Steve. 
Steve, who gives him a relieved, dazzling smile, and presses their thighs together, flooding his whole body with warmth.
It's terrifying, how good it feels. 
tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot
@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1
@stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible
@bumblebeecuttlefishes @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @n33dlew0rk @manliest-of-muppets
@ravenfrog @dreamercec @tartarusknight @eyehartart
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rivalsispunk · 2 days ago
Text
The Interview (Chapter 1 of ongoing series When We’re Alone)
Best friend’s dad!Declan O’Hara, boss!Declan O’Hara x AFAB reader
Journalist Declan O’Hara is in need of a personal assistant as his Corinium career skyrockets, and his daughter Taggie has the perfect candidate: her best friend. What seemingly starts as a professional relationship soon snowballs into something both Declan and reader were never expecting and are no longer able to deny.
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Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (eventual) smut, cursing, age gap romance (reader is a few years older than Taggie), more warnings added per chapter
Word count: 3.1k
Author’s note: Hello! Long time reader, first time poster! Please be kind but also let me know what you think! Proof read but probs still some mistakes. Not entirely canon, Declan still works for Corinium, Maud has disappeared to god knows where and the rest, well, you’ll have to read to find out :)
Chapter One: The Interview
You were going to positively kill Taggie once you returned to the Cotswolds. Only she, your closest friend since you relocated to the country after finishing your university degree six months ago, could convince you to cut your gap year short in favour of interviewing for a personal assistant job at Corinium. And, for her father, Declan O’Hara, no less.
“Oh, go on!” Taggie had pleaded with you over The Priory’s kitchen counter. “I know you’re getting bored out here. You can’t spend all of your days sitting around here, helping me peel the shite out of prawns for dinner parties.”
“Why not?” You plucked a grape from the fruit platter she’d just finished assembling for an event at Freddie and Valerie Jones’ that evening. “I happen to like spending all my time with you. Even if it does mean peeling shite out of crustaceans.” You eyed your friend with faux suspicion. “Are you getting sick of me already?”
“Of course not! I just think you’d be grand at it, that’s all, what with your journalism degree and all,” Taggie explained. “You’ve heard Daddy when he comes home. Always complaining about the sorts he’s had to interview. Plus, he already knows you. That’s ought to win you some points right there.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be all bad,” you confessed, mulling the opportunity over as you chewed through another handful of grapes. It would look amazing on your resume and you’d have a foot in the door at one of the biggest TV networks in the United Kingdom. Plus, it wouldn’t kill you to have a front row seat to Declan in all his glory every single day. You would never mention it to Taggie, but you fancied her dad a rather handsome sod.
“Say you’ll do it. At the very least, for me?” Taggie bat her thick eyelashes at you.
“Fine,” you eventually relented, a smile cracking over your face at the new possibility. “I’ll go in for an interview, but no promises. And I don’t want you convincing him of me either! I want to get this job on my own merit, okay?”
“Convince Daddy of you? Please, he already adores you.” The sentiment spread fire through your chest. Tag rounded the kitchen bench and grabbed you by the hand. “Now let’s find you an outfit! Mummy ought to have left something halfway suitable behind.”
Taggie nor Declan had said much about their absentee matriarch Maud in the recent weeks since she fled the countryside after yet another explosive argument between her and her husband. You knew better than to ask, but you could tell by the way Taggie’s shoulders sagged at the sight of her mother’s partially empty closet that her absence had a somber affect on her.
You’d only been into the main bedroom of The Priory once before, when the room was overtaken by Maud’s florally perfumes and extravagant evening gowns. This time, however, the space was so intrinsically Declan; all heady cedarwood and whisky and smoke. Shirts with patterns of plaid and tartan as well as numerous odd, natural-coloured socks were peppered across armchairs and vanities, while a stack of memoirs sat on his bedside with a full ashtray perched atop. Your heart swelled, and sunk simultaneously, at the thought of Declan being sat up here alone at night, or early of a morning, thumbing through a book while taking slow drags of his cigarette as he let himself be consumed by a life far different to the one he was currently living.
“How about this?” Taggie’s voice ripped through your daydream, forcing you away from thoughts of her father. You peered at the oatmeal-coloured dress she had retrieved from the closet, surprised that Maud owned something so…brown. You’d always known her to wear jewel tones that complimented her flaming red hair. You shook your head, and thus began a cycle of Taggie suggesting an outfit and you shooting it down. Eventually, you agreed to Taggie swapping out your creature comfort jeans and Wham! T-shirt for an old black pencil skirt that you were convinced had given you hives from the way your legs hadn’t stopped itching since you put it on, as well as a silky fuchsia blouse that stretched a little too tight over your breasts. While your friend had done a good job at assuring you that you’d fit right in at the Corinium offices, you weren’t as convinced.
The receptionists, all in latest season fashion with not a hair out of place, had looked you up and down as soon as you stepped foot in the marble foyer, snickering behind your back about your fashion fauxpas once you’d checked in. Sarah Stratton wasn’t as covert with her judgement. As you sat outside Declan’s office, waiting to be called in, Sarah outwardly guffawed when she spotted you across the floor. You’d met her several times in passing at parties and Corinium events you’d previously attended as Taggie’s plus one, and for the most part, she’d kept her observations to herself. But now, as her red heels clip across the carpet, her gaze set right on you with her matching rouge lips upturned. “I would never have expected to see you here, darling!” she coos down at you, reaching for a strand of hair that has slipped in front of your shoulder. “And playing dress ups, no less!” Another laugh tinkers out of her as she twirls your hair around her finger. “Interviewing for the assistant job with Declan, hm?”
You nod with a taut smile and try not to let her comment about you looking god-awfully out of place get to you. Sarah’s eyes shift to Declan’s closed mahogany door and tuts. “Well, good luck, sweetheart. Seems like you’ll need it with the way the rest of those interviews have panned out.”
“Oh, hop off it, Sarah!” an unmistakingly Irish voice barks from your left. Sarah jolts upright and despite the embarrassment that tinges her cheeks pink, still manages throw a sultry smile in Declan’s direction. Your posture matches her pin-straight stature as you side-eye his office. It hadn’t occurred to you that he wasn’t inside, preparing for your interview the way you had been all morning. You’d crafted your pitch of yourself perfectly, complete with ideas and suggestions for potential guests for Declan’s show, anything to set you apart, make you seem even a fraction less useless that the interviewees that came before you. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Where’s James?” he questions Sarah, alluding to the very common knowledge that she and her co-host James Vereker are having an affair. Declan makes a show of raking through his moustache - god, that moustache - then adds with a smirk, “James and better. Probably not two words that should be in the same sentence, eh?” Sarah’s smile plateaus at that, and that stiff upper-lip culture she was dying to marry into takes its place.
“I’m sure I can make myself busy, Declan. Got a show to prepare and all that. Ciao!” She doesn’t look at you again and you’re grateful that Declan starts to speak before you bumblefuck your way through the silence.
“Ciao,” he repeats once Sarah’s out of earshot . “Doubt that leech of a woman’s ever had a decent carbonara, let alone stepped foot in Italy.” he says, offering you the first genuine smile you’ve received all day. “Let’s get to it, shall we?” He swings open his office door and holds an arm out. “After you, love.”
“Thanks.”
You shuffle into the room ahead of him, completely oblivious to the way Declan’s eyes are trained on your arse in a skirt that’s familiar to him, but he’s unsure how. Right now, however, he doesn’t care, because it fits your body so magnificently, as if it were made for you. He fights to ignore the dull throb beneath his trousers while he watches you sit, the black fabric pushed to its limits as it stretches across the globes of your arse.
God, has she always been so… womanly? Declan wonders, then immediately chastises himself for leering so openly at his daughter’s best friend. Yes, she was a few good years older than Taggie, and always a beautiful girl, but he was glad his middle child had finally made a friend amid the shitshow that was the move to the country and his crumbling marriage to Maud. He didn’t need to muddy the waters with pervacious thoughts about the young lass’ curves. If only she’d shown up to his office in her usual ripped jeans and George Michael-adorned tees.
“Everything okay, Mr O’Hara? Should I sit somewhere else?” you ask when you notice Declan frozen in the doorway with a furrow etched in his brow. You immediately start second-guessing yourself and wonder if this was a bad idea after all. You can only imagine everyone else who lost out on this job before you faced that same expression. He shakes his head at you, at himself, then busies himself with straightening his maroon tie as he moves to sit behind his desk. You shift in your seat, trying to thwart of the lingering itch Maud’s skirt has buried into the back of your thigh. You think if you can wriggle just so, you can ward it off for at least the main portion of the interview. While you think your subtle movements go unnoticed by Declan because he’s perusing your resume - impressive, he’d earlier noted in black pen beside details of your internship at The Times - he’s been clocked onto your behaviour since he’d laid eyes on you across the office. Scared shitless, and he doesn’t half know that Sarah’s sneaky comments only added to it, thanks to the way you’re fidgeting with that damned skirt mere metres away from him. If Declan had any less sense in him, any less dignity, he’d have half the mind to tear it straight from your body. Of course, he decides against it and tries a less barbaric approach to settle your nerves.
“No band t-shirt today?”
Now it’s your turn for your brows to knit together. “I’m sorry?” Declan nudges his head in the general direction of your chest and your chin dips in response to see what he’s referring to. There, your vision is flanked with fluorescent pink and a tinge of flesh where the silky material doesn’t quite stretch to cover your breasts between buttons, and you silently curse Taggie for allowing you to wear something so borderline revealing at her father’s workplace. Plus, you were surprised he’d even noticed your usual attire.
“I thought it was best I grow up a bit in the clothing department if I were to go for a job at Corinium,” you confess. Declan doesn’t miss the way the swell of your breasts arch against your shirt when you take a deep breath and fold your arms across yourself. “But now I’m thinking the bright pink was a mistake.”
You peer across the expansive wooden desk expectantly, and Declan pitches his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t ask me! Fashion, clearly, is not my strong suit. All I know is, according to my girls, leaving the house with ladders in your tights is a big no-no unless you’re a gothic or Winona Ryder.”
You chuckle at that, even more so for knowing that his youngest daughter, Caitlin, would be all for half-shredded tights.
Declan looks coy as he sips from his tea. “But if it counts for anything, you look lovely.”
“Well, I should hope you think so. These are your wife’s clothes, after all.” Your confession elicits a splutter from the otherwise put together man in front of you. Tea spouts from his lips across the desk, marring your resume and any other papers with brown stains. You immediately spring into action, scanning the room for a towel, handkerchief, anything that could mop up the mess.
“Sorry, love,” Declan says quietly, thumping a fist against his chest. “Wrong pipe.”
That’s when you see it, a pocket square the same colour as his tie poking from his breast pocket. Without thinking, you lurch across Declan’s desk and pluck it from its resting place, and begin soaking up the liquid. Declan ought to help you, it’s his mess after all, but he’s frozen at the view you’ve awarded him as you lean over. Your cleavage fights against the V cut of Maud’s blouse and Declan can just make out the ripple of a black lace bra below the neckline. He can’t even imagine Maud in that outfit. Right now it’s all so you. His cock stirs at the sight and he can’t help the pained groan that bubbles up his throat.
“Stop,” he breathes in barely a whisper. You don’t, of course, you can’t hear him, and you keep wiping at the desk, your breasts bouncing with every swipe up and down.
“Christ, girl, stop it!” Declan explodes, bolting up from his chair. Thankfully, the height of his desk hides his growing bulge, but it doesn’t matter. The look of pure fear painting your face has the same effect as a cold shower. You sink back into your seat and begin spluttering apologies, that you shouldn’t have used his pocket square, that you were out of line and another dozen variations of sorry, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Declan mirrors you by returning to his chair, raking a hand over his face.
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he states eventually. “I don’t give a dying rats arse about the pocket square. It’s just… I’m a bloody fool just standing here while you clean up after me. I can’t have you doing that. You don’t even work for me.”
Despite the shock of Declan’s outburst, you manage to muster up a bit of cheek in response. “I don’t even work for you yet,” you correct him.
Your confidence juts Declan’s eyebrows to his curly hairline and a grin cracks across his face. “Cocky little thing, aren’t ya? Go on then.. tell me why I should hire you.”
You spend the next twenty minutes talking Declan through your university studies and experience, the tension from earlier already forgotten. When Declan mentions he once worked with your media law professor, the conversation detours into the pair of you sharing stories about your experiences with the man, far too senile and set in his ways to do the younger generation any good. The rest of the interview carries on like that, you and Declan laughing and exchanging anecdotes like two friends in the pub rather than an employer vetting a potential employee. You’re about to pitch the idea of getting Farah Fawcett on Declan’s show when the office door thumps open to reveal Corinium’s managing director, Tony Baddingham, at its entryway.
“O’Hara! If you’re done with giggling like a little schoolgirl down here, we’ve got a production meeting to get to,” he bites, barely glancing in your direction. You don’t miss the roll of Declan’s tawny eyes as he waves Tony off.
“Alright, Tony. Give me five, I’m just finishing up here,” he says before introducing you by name.
“Nice to meet you, Mr Baddingham,” you tell him, standing to shake his hand. He doesn’t properly look at you until your palms meet, and your spine stiffens when his beady eyes rake over you.
“One of Declan’s assistant candidates, I presume?” he wonders aloud.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you’re far prettier than some of the other trolls we’ve had roll through here recently.”
“Tony,” Declan warns. The last thing he wants is another man leering at you like you’re a rite of passage for them.
“Right, well, lovely to meet you,” Tony clasps his other hand over the top of yours, careening his neck so he’s at your eye level. “Hope to see you around here. You’ll definitely be a much-appreciated addition.”
Offering a tight-lipped smile, you reserve the urge bawk in his face. You’ve worked with enough Tony Baddinghams to know his interest in you has nothing to do with your professional ability and everything to do with aesthetics. Fucking men.
For the most part, they sickened you and Declan all the same, but for the latter, he was mainly sickened with himself for wanting to pummel Baddingham for the way he was eye-fucking you. But who was he to talk? He’d been doing the exact same thing just minutes earlier.
When Tony leaves the office, he leaves the door ajar, a reminder that Declan is expected elsewhere. You’re about to ask Declan if Tony is always so…Tony, but he’s already got his briefcase in hand and is ushering you towards the door. “I have to admit, I was surprised when Taggie said you wanted to interview for this position, with you being on a gap year and all,” he confessed as you strolled out onto the office floor. “But you know your stuff. You’re bloody intelligent. Passionate. That’s rare these days.”
“Thank you, Mr O’Hara.”
“Please, call me Declan. Here, and at The Priory. Just Declan,” he smiles and you return it.
“Alright, then. Declan.”
“I’ve got to get going, but I’ll let you know about the job. There’s a couple more interviews on the books in the next few days, I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course.”
Declan gives you a curt nod, and you start for the elevator, but you barely make it five steps before he calls you back.
“For what it’s worth, I’d be lucky to have ya here. And like I said, you look great, but I prefer the jeans and t-shirts. They’re much more…you.”
His admission sends your heart thrumming against your ribcage, and red creeps up your neck and onto your cheeks. “Thank you, Mr O’Ha- Declan,” you correct yourself. “Thank you, Declan. See you around.” You turn on your patent black heel, leaving Declan standing there with an image that’s bound to haunt him for nights to come: you in that fucking skirt.
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Please let me know if you enjoyed this, and if you’re feeling generous, a lil’ reblog won’t go astray <3
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shadowthesim · 3 days ago
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♡California Dreamin'♡
pairing: bf!chris x fem!reader
summary: you and chris have big dreams, so big for your little town, so you decide to go chase after them and get on the road to LA !
a/n: there will be a second part 100% ,i just can't promise when cause I'm busy with school work rn. hope you like it (english isn't my first language so sorry if there's any mistakes) -Honey 🤍
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it's summer 1965 in Texas, and you're walking back and forth in your bedroom in a quick pace, trying to keep calm while waiting. your boyfriend chris was supposed to get his driver's licence today and to come pick you up after as promised, but you couldn't wait anymore as you grew inpatient. which led you to dial his mom's number in a haste. after you spinned the rotary dial of your telephone you heard mary loo's sweet voice answering the call.
"hello?" she asked wondering who could be calling her house this early.
"good morning mrs. sturniolo! it's me" you said hurriedly. "did chris call you?"
the lady on the other line laughed at your rushed tone. "no honey, he didn't.."
but before she could finish her sentence you heard your door's bell ringing. you smiled widely and immediately informed her that he's here. you hanged the phone and quickly ran downstairs.
the second the door was opened, you jumped excitedly into chris's arms for him to catch you with delight as you wrapped your legs around his waist. you stayed like this for a minute til you raised your head from his shoulder to look at his face and asked.
"did you get it..?", chris freed one arm from behind your back and reached for his pocket to show you the long awaited license. he placed it in your hand for you to inspect closely as your eyes brightened.
"no way! that's actually real?!" you couldn't believe that you can finally drive around and travel with his car without any restrictions to hold you back.
"I know right!" he answered with a huge smile and started to spin you around in a circle. you then grabbed your suitcase and made your way out of the house together.
He answered with huge smile on his face, "I know right!" and spun you around in a circle, his eyes sparkling with joy. you giggled, feeling carefree.
a couple minutes later you grabbed your suitcase and walked out the house together, the soft sun ray embracing you as you walked side by side, sharing the excitement of the moment.
ᯓ1 year ago
"I'm sick of this" your boyfriend suddenly said that after being too focused on his guitar for the past hour. you tilted your head trying to understand what is he exactly 'sick of'. "what do you mean?"
"I mean.. all of this, i just know that my songs deserve so much more than that" and he was right. chris loved singing more than anything else, and playing his music in those small parties was never gonna be enough, and almost no one listened to his tapes. he deserved so much more recognition.
"so does you love" chris rested his hand on your shoulder and looked in your eyes trying to read your expression. you loved to act since your childhood.acting isn't just a passion, it's your home and the stage is when you truly come alive. "i know..."
"let's leave then!", at first you laughed, thinking that he was only joking. but his determined look convinced you otherwise. your small town felt stifling, unable to contain your big dreams.
"we're meant for more" chris said reassuring you. so you decided to work hard and save money to afford a car nice enough to take you to California.
ᯓback to the present
you settled in the passenger seat next to chris in his red cabriolet who's starting the engine as you mentally checked everything you needed to grab, making sure that you didn't forget anything that's important.
you're all set and ready for your long awaited journey. and of course chris had to get his cassette, so you inserted your favorite track tape, blasting yours and chris's favorite song in the car. eight days a week by the beatles.
"did you bribe the photographer?" you asked holding chris's driver's license. "what?"
"how can someone look this good in a photo?" he started laughing at your comment. and that was how the rest of the night went, exchanging laughter and screaming songs lyrics. it was all fine for the next couple hours until chris realized that the car needs fuel, so you started to look around for a close gas station and maybe find a place to spend the night at.
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deviders by: mee!! feel free to use it if you want but tag me please if you did <3
honey's masterlist ♡
taglist: @anyaa2s @m0nsterhighluvr32 @ily-tothemoonandback @nateismybf @cupiidk1lls @sturniolos4life16 @breesturns @domtorettosfamily @mamamadssss @caroline12b @reader-lola @chrissturniolobbymama @lemonhoney2460 @freakshow-420 @emely9274 @mattsturniolofuckingsexy @chrisslut04 @jessie-essie @marrykisskilled @meatballlover10 @chrissturnioloslvt @trevorsgodmother @sturniololuv08 @sophand4n4
@shadowthesim 🪄
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sophieinwonderland · 3 days ago
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Here's a fun thread from the comments!
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This is what we call the "I know you are, but what am I." It's a popular argument among 6-year-olds. The thing about this is that it's ultimately just vague feelings with no actual facts behind them.
You are going to notice these same themes a lot with @ilovexreaderfanfics' replies. A vague sense of "Democrats are the ones who ACTUALLY do this, not us" without any specific examples.
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See what I mean!
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Before going further, let me stop to cite my own sources.
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Donald Trump seems to perform best with people who either never went to college, or went to college and dropped out before graduating.
The more educated someone is, the more likely they are to vote Democrat. This has been behind Republicans seeking to defund the department of education, and their targeting of student loan forgiveness programs. Because to Republicans, there is no threat greater than an educated population.
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And finally, comes this. Once again, feelings over facts. A vague general sentiment that "Democrats aren't respectful" with no examples. No sources. No basis in reality.
But since you brought it up, @ilovexreaderfanfics...
Let's talk about respect!
President Jimmy Carter passed.
Tradition holds that flags be at half-staff for 30 days after the death of a President of the United States.
This is how Convicted Felon Donald Trump feels about respecting a great former president who passed.
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And before anyone makes the mistake of believing anything Trump says, this is NOT the first time this has happened.
The flags were lowered during Nixon's second inauguration after Truman passed.
The flags were flown at half-staff during President Richard Nixon’s inauguration for his second term on Jan. 20, 1973, due to him having lowered them earlier for the death of former President Harry S. Truman on Dec. 26, 1972.
Trump is complaining about something that is normal to rile up an uneducated base that he knows will believe anything he says.
He's complaining about honoring a deceased former President because it will take attention away from himself.
So... Who do Republicans actually respect?
Our troops? Certainly not POWs.
On John McCain's military record, Trump once said "he's not a war hero. He's a war hero because he was captured. I like people that weren't captured."
Our kids? Trump used his platform to cyberbully a teenage girl because he was jealous of her being person of the year.
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Pretending that Republicans are a party of respect is laughable.
The reality is that Republicans are the party of displaying dick pics of the children of their political enemies.
They're the party that introduced introduced a bathroom bill at congress specifically to spite the first openly transwoman elected to the House, and the American People who voted for her.
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I could go on all day.
But I think this demonstrates pretty well that Republicans are the ones who will demand that they be respected, yet have no interest in respecting others.
In a way, their fictional "war on Christmas" embodies everything wrong with their beliefs.
Republicans demand the "respect" of having their holiday and their religion acknowledged by name everywhere by everyone.
When people choose to use inclusive greetings that acknowledge the many different holidays around the season, Republicans view respecting others as disrespecting them.
To the Republican, respect is a one way street. It's something meant to be given to them and literally no one else. Something they, and they alone, are entitled to.
How to trigger Republicans, sysmeds and other bigots in 1 easy steps
Step 1: Post facts with sources
That's literally it.
If you threaten them or call them names, they will feel vindicated in their persecution complexes. But if you prove them wrong with facts, they will block you instantly because being proven wrong bruises their ego and they can't cope with it.
If you're angry at bigots and want to hurt them, I promise that nothing will inflict more emotional damage than calmly explaining why they're wrong with sources to back it up.
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thenickgirl · 2 days ago
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JEALOUS part two
bf!nick x oc!jalen
➳ part one
summary: in which Nick gets jealous during a party.
type: oneshot ❀ genre: comfort/smut ❀ pov: third ❀ wc: 1.8K
warnings: swearing, anal sex, bottom!nick, top!jalen
a/n: finally, here’s part two, yayyyy. i hope it’s worth the wait. the ending is saur cringy, but i couldn’t come up with anything else, i’m literally just a girl okay. happy reading! ❀
‘And I know that you’re not honest
Now you got me yellin’
That’s because I’m jealous’
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‘I’m just jealous, I’m just human’
Jalen sat at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, as his mind replayed the events that just occurred. He was upset, he knew that there hadn’t been anything going on between him and the guy tonight, and he couldn’t believe Nick would even think he’d do something like that. He loved Nick, and would never hurt him, and Nick should’ve known that. But, the more and more Jalen sat with his thoughts, he came to a realization, and immediately rose to his feet, heading towards the bathroom door.
He stood there hesitating at first, wondering if he should just let it go, and sleep on the couch, but he didn’t think that was fair. He didn’t start the argument after all, so he shouldn’t have to be the one to apologize first, he thought. But their relationship meant too much to him, Nick meant too much to him, and they agreed to never go to bed angry, so he swallowed his pride, and knocked.
“Baby, open the door. Let’s talk about this,” Jalen says, now desperately wanting to apologize.
“I’m done talking, J. Just leave me alone!” Nick responds through the door, and Jalen could hear him sniffling, which made his heart break.
“I’m sorry, peach. C’mon, please, open the door,” Jalen pleaded, twisting at the knob, sighing when he was left with silence. He pressed his forehead against the door, uttering a final ‘please.’ He closed his eyes, feeling defeated, until he heard a click from the other side.
Nick opened the door, his eyes were wet and red, and before Jalen could even say anything, Nick had turned and walked back to the sink, before sitting on it. Jalen stepped in cautiously, settling across from him, leaning against the shower wall. A heavy silence fell between the two for a while, until Nick spoke up.
“Is that really all you think of me?” he mumbled as he looked down, avoiding eye contact. His eyes caught hold of their matching shoes. Despite how hurt he was, the sight of it made his heart skip a beat.
“No, of course not. I don’t…I-I didn’t mean-“
“You said it,” Nick cut him off.
“I know, and I shouldn’t have. I was just upset, and offended, and I know that’s not an excuse but,” Jalen trails off, “Nick, we can’t keep doing this,” he mumbled.
Nick's head shot up, eyes narrowing at what he thought his boyfriend was implying, “W-what are you saying…?” he replies, baffled.
Jalen rushed to Nick, wanting to reassure him that he wasn’t saying what he knew Nick was assuming, “I’m not saying anything. C’mon, peach, just talk to me. Actually talk, no more arguing,” His tone was soft, pleading, as he now stood in front of Nick. He wanted so badly to touch him, but decided against it, not wanting to make him more upset, or uncomfortable.
Nick looked everywhere, but at the man in front of him. Jalen moved to sit beside him on the sink, another heavy silence falling between the couple. Jalen knew how much Nick hated being so vulnerable, so instead, he spoke up, in hopes that Nick would open up more.
“You know…maybe I did get carried away tonight. I’m too friendly at times, and I can admit that. I guess, I wasn’t thinking about how all that might look to you, or how it would make you feel, and I’m sorry. I know you weren’t being insecure, that was stupid of me to say. I shouldn’t have been so defensive. Your feelings are valid, and I should have considered them. You weren't being dramatic. Well,” he pauses, “Maybe a little bit,” Jalen teases, earning a small chuckle from his boyfriend.
“If I’m being honest, had the roles been reversed, I probably would’ve reacted the same way. I never meant to hurt you, peach.” Jalen says sincerely, as he turned his head slightly to look at Nick, who was staring down at the floor below him. After a bit of silence, the dread headed boy slid off of the sink, deciding to let Nick have some space to think. As he inched towards the door, he heard a very faint ‘wait’.
Nick finally decides to speak up, his voice weak, and cracking, from all the crying just prior. “I was jealous, and maybe I overreact-“ Jalen interjects, walking back towards Nick.
“No, you were right. I should’ve-“
“No, J, let me finish,” Nick says, interrupting Jalen.
“I overreacted. Deep down, I knew you weren’t flirting with him, or anything like that. I just hated watching you enjoy someone else's company so much.” Nick began, his eyes still not meeting Jalen’s as he bit his lip, hoping it would help bite back the tears, “I guess, I was just pushing you away cause I’m-“ Nick shrugs slightly, wondering if he should even admit something like this. “Scared.” He whispered, his eyes fluttering as the tears that were rebuilding finally broke free.
“Scared of what, baby?” Jalen asks, as he steps even closer, settling in between his lover's legs. He cups Nick’s face in his large hands, his desert brown eyes looking deeply into the ocean blue ones beneath him, as his thumb gently swipes the tears that had fallen.
“Losing you. Of you finding peace, and happiness with someone else…With someone like him,” Nick admits, his voice croaking out the last sentence.
“I don’t want anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. That guy meant nothing to me, absolutely nothing. He wasn’t even that funny, I was just trying to be nice. Nick, there’s not one person that can compete with you, baby. You’re it for me.” Jalen reassures him.
Nick immediately becomes flustered, his cheeks, and ears beginning to heat up, as he playfully pushes Jalen away from him, “Stop making me blush.”
Jalen chuckles at Nick's suddenly shy demeanor, “It’s true, peach. I’m so sorry about tonight.”
“I’m sorry too, J. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that, I should’ve just been honest about how I was feeling. It won’t happen again.” Nick vowed with confidence, he would never let what transpired tonight happen again. He loved Jalen, and what they had so much.
Nick engulfed Jalen in a hug, his face buried in his chest, as Jalen’s arms wrapped around Nick’s shoulders. Jalen softly kisses the crown of Nick’s head, a much lighter silence now falling amongst them.
“I love you,” they both whisper at the same time, before chuckling.
Jalen pulls back, leaning down, capturing Nick’s lips. He tries his best to pour every ounce of love he has into it. Nick deepens the kiss, moaning into his mouth as his arms wrap around Jalen’s neck. Jalen swiftly swoops Nick off of the sink, carrying him into the bedroom, without breaking the kiss. He then lays him gently on the bed, his tall frame hovering over Nick’s petite one. Nick's hands roam his boyfriend's body as they kiss passionately, his fingers brush against Jalen’s brown skin as he slides them under his shirt. He then tugs it off of him, breaking the kiss for just a moment before kissing him again.
The feeling of Jalen’s lips on his was driving the brunette wild, but he was craving more of him. He managed to unbutton Jalen’s jeans, before dipping his hand inside. A gasp emitted from Jalen’s lips, as he pulled away from the kiss when Nick’s hand palmed his semi hard dick through his boxers. Jalen’s hips involuntarily buck into Nick’s hand, as he worked his length, his thumb tracing circles around his tip, coating it with the precum that had already leaked.
“Mine,” Nick says, more as a statement than a question, his eyes staring into Jalen’s while he pumped his length, and Jalen let out a ragged breath, “Fuck yes, all yours,” he nodded, as he moaned.
Jalen takes Nick’s hand from his body, before swiftly discarding both of their clothes. He then reaches into the nightstand, grabbing a bottle of lubricant, before squeezing it onto his fingers. He spends some time working Nick open, as he moans at the feeling of Jalen’s fingers curling inside of him.
Nick gasps once Jalen carefully slides into him. No matter how many times they’ve been intimate, he never gets used to his size. Jalen moans at the way Nick fits him like a glove, almost like he was made just for him. He leans down to kiss the brunette’s neck, sucking and biting at his skin, before smoothing the mark over with his tongue. The sensation against Nick’s sensitive spot causes him to whimper in Jalen’s ear.
“God, I love all the little sounds you make,” Jalen groaned, as hips rocked against Nick’s.
His thrusts were slow and deep, as he had their hands interlocked above Nick’s head. Nick instinctively wraps his legs around Jalen’s waist, drawing him even deeper. His body shook with pleasure each time Jalen bottomed out inside of him.
“So deep, feel so good, f-fuck” Nick moans, as he squeezed on Jalen’s hands. His manicured nails leave crescent moons on his caramel skin, as they dug into the flesh.
“Yeah? Taking me so well, peach, so pretty,” Jalen whispered against his neck. His lips trail down to his boyfriend’s chest, and his teeth latch onto his nipple, and Nick whines. Jalen smooths it over with his tongue, then sucks it, flicking it every so often, before doing the same to the other one. Nick moaned, his back arching at the feeling. Jalen leans up, connecting their lips again, as he releases Nick’s hands, and they immediately wrap around Jalen’s neck, pulling him close.
Their bodies continued to move together in harmony, as the sun began to rise, and Nick felt his release approaching. He lifted his hips in an attempt to meet his lover’s strokes, the motion causing Nick’s walls to squeeze deliciously around Jalen, and he let out a low growl. As he felt that familiar feeling rising, he reached down between them, grabbing Nick’s length, before working his tip with the palm of his hand.
“Jalen…” Nick whimpered, as his body shuddered. His nails dig into Jalen’s back, as he’s brought closer, and closer to the edge.
“I know, baby, I know. Cum with me.” Jalen encourages, as he bottoms out for a final time. His hips stutter while he empties his load deep inside of Nick, as they cum in sync.
Jalen collapses on top of him, both panting, as he peppers soft kisses along Nick’s shoulder. He rolls off of him carefully, before pulling Nick to his side, his arm cradling his back. The brunette rests his head on Jalen’s chest, loving the way their heart beats synchronized.
“I love you, J. I couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend.” Nick confessed, as he reached up to caress Jalen’s face, pressing a soft kiss on his jaw.
“I mean, you could. You just wouldn’t find one,” Jalen teased, as he winked down at Nick.
“Oh my god, shut uppp,” Nick rolls his eyes, slapping Jalen’s chest playfully, as they both laugh.
Jalen kisses the top of Nick’s head lovingly, “I’m just kidding. I love you, peach. Today, tomorrow, and forever.”
‘If you’re keeping your promise, I’m keeping mine’
✎ signed,
𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 ❀
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🏷️: @muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @freshloveforthefit @sturniolossss @sturniioloslut @ameerahsblog @yukayoooh @freshloveee @asherrisrandom @dumbf2ck @maliaforstvrns @nicksbestie @emely9274 @marrykisskilled @ksturnz @colorthecosmos444 @tyummyz @idrk2292 @sturniololuv08 @soursturniolo
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miwiheroes · 2 days ago
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Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5
Day 2 - Queercoding Jokes from the writers
I could have done three separate posts on these but you guys deserve a treat! So here are three subtle jokes that the writers make about Mike being gay to queercode him. Jokes are made about men being gay a lot in tv shows, especially ones in the 2010s, however, the ‘subtlety’ of these ones just show that they were made for queer people to pick up on. Or they are subtle clues that after S5, we are meant to look back on and laugh.
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1. “El? Sorry, not interested.”
Could have easily said: Sorry, wrong number.
Could have easily said: Damn it.
Stuff like this makes me feel insane but seriously i think its really funny from my perspective (even if it wasn't intentional but like, the writers aren't THIS dumb to put in something like this without knowing how it sounds, right?)
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2. "I have an idea. Boys only."
This one just a lil silly and when ppl first started to take this as a queer coded line I was literally like cmon it's probably not that deep. But then again, double meanings do exist and saying stuff like this that can be easily explained away is often used to subtly nod towards something rather than just outright joking about it. This would be to make it so the plot point is still a surprise, but would make sense on a rewatch.
Also, I only really saw this as queer coding when I remembered that Will saying 'A day free of girls' is obviously queer coding as well, and that too is a little double meaning nod towards his sexuality. So why can't it be for Mike- *gunshots*
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3. "Straight... straight..." "Right on the money, as I said." "It just doesn't make sense."
Bear in mind this is literally after the van scene where Jonathan sees Mike staring at Will in the rearview mirror from a third-party perspective (meaning from Will's pov he has no clue Mike has any feelings towards him).
I view this line, and really really 'random' ass way of writing what they're trying to figure out, as a joke about the fact that the audience (who are also a third-party perspective to the van scene) have no idea what the hell Mike is thinking. We still have no idea if he knows the painting is really from Will, but we know that Will is talking about himself. And from the way Mike looks at Will, the audience and Jonathan are conflicted because this whole time Mike's been with El ('straight... straight'), and Mike claims to have feelings towards her ('right on the money as i said').
But now it 'doesn't make sense'.
This was a silly one ngl but tomorrow's might be more serious i promise
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hvnlygrl · 2 days ago
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Hey girl! I wanted to send in a Rafe request for the angst prompt #7: accidentally/drunkenly confessing feelings and yes it’s for the celebration! But it’s Rafe that confesses his feelings for the reader even though she’s a pogue but he’s always had a soft spot for her🤍
drunken confession.
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pairing — rafe cameron x pogue!fem!reader
word count — 0.7k
synopsis — rafe gets drunk and starts spilling the beans on his love for you.
notes — hi babe! i love this sm he would be such a doofus honestly.
join my follower celebration — until feb. 3rd!
you watched rafe down shot after shot, part of you feeling a little concerned for his well being for the rest of the night, and the other part of you just wanting to focus on your friends and mind your business.
but rafe was your friend too, you reminded yourself. you’d grown a soft spot for the kook after a party one night, one very similar to this one, in fact. jj loved to tease you and say that the feelings you harbored were much more than platonic, and you constantly denied his statement. but you knew he was right.
you also knew, however, that rafe cameron would never be caught dead dating a pogue. so any and all thoughts and feelings that were more than platonic for rafe got locked away to protect your own well being. the last thing you needed was the boys getting on your ass for being in love with a kook, or for topper and kelce to antagonize you for being a nasty pogue that nobody, especially rafe, would ever love.
and yet here you were, stuffing him into the passenger seat of your car because he’d had far too many to drink.
“how you feelin’ buddy?” you hum softly, your voice sounding like music to rafe’s ears. “let me know if you wanna throw up, okay?”
he just groaned in response, your words nearly triggering his gag response. “drive slow,” he keeps his eyes closed tightly as he takes deep breaths.
“you got it,” you huff through a laugh, driving as safely and steadily as you could while you brought him back to your house. you knew ward would flip his shit if rafe got brought home by a pogue while drunk like that and you wanted to protect him from that shitshow as much as possible.
by the time you got him to your house, he sighed desperately as he crawled into your bed, trashcan ready by his side. “y/n?” he called out, eyes trying to steady themselves to look at you.
“what’s up?” you call back with a sweet smile on your face, having absolutely no problem taking care of him in this vulnerable state. honestly, you felt honored that he trusted and asked for you specifically.
“i love you,” his voice is shaky and you almost don’t hear him with how quietly he says it.
you’re sure he doesn’t mean it in the way you want him too, so you brush him off with a soft laugh and allow your hand to rub his back soothingly. “love you too, rafe.”
“no,” he groans as he rolls to face you better, “i love you. like i know i shouldn’t cause you’re a pogue or whatever the fuck, but i love you and i can't stop thinking about you when i'm not with you. i want us to be more than this.”
you blink at him in shock, your face clad in an expression he’s unable to read that nearly sends him face first into the trashcan. he’s almost positive he ruined everything.
“are you being serious right now, rafe?”
“yes, i’m sick of walking on eggshells, i just-“ he sighs deeply, “i can't even look at other girls anymore because none of them are you.”
“i love you too, rafe,” you could cry at the confession, eyes watering and hands trembling, “i have for a while now. i just didn’t think you would feel the same way.”
“you really couldn’t tell?” he raises a brow at you.
“i guess i was in denial,” you shrug with a breathy laugh. “what do we do now?”
“well, i guess now i ask you to be my girlfriend,” rafe smiles at you, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glossy from the alcohol.
“you sure you don’t wanna wait until you’re not drunk anymore?”
“i won’t regret it, i promise,” he holds a pinky out to you, gesturing for you to hook yours with his.
you do, and he brings it up to his lips, kissing it gently.
“y/n l/n, will you be my girlfriend?”
“rafe cameron, i absolutely will.”
he sits up slowly as to not upset his stomach, and kisses you gently, one hand cupping the side of your face as the other one steadies him. he pulls away just enough to whisper, “thank you for taking care of me.”
“i always will,” you peck his lips before checking the time. “you hungry ? some places are still open, i could run and grab you something.”
“god, you’re an angel, woman.”
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mysecretlittlelibrary · 2 days ago
Note
Hey so can I have a scenario where Kurt has a s/o who he has been with for a while. It’s smut. S/o is a gentle, loving, passionate top? It’s not about his appearance or any bad actions he has done. S/o is just very loving in the moment with him whenever they do the deed?
~Late To The Party~
Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: oral m & f receiving, lots of praise, general goofy cuteness here
Genre: it's smut ofc but plenty of fluff too
Summary: Sometimes your boyfriend just looks good enough to eat ;)
A/N:Thank you for requesting darling! <3
***
You hum to yourself as you do your makeup at your vanity. You want to go relatively simple, a smokey eye probably, that's your go to when you're struggling to decide on a look. While you work, you hear your boyfriend mutter a couple of curses in German and stifle a chuckle. This happens any time he tries to tie a tie.
"Having a bit of trouble, my love?" You ask walking over to the bathroom where he's no doubt rebuking the very creation of neckties.
"Help, please?" He sighs, hands dropping to his sides.
"Of course my sweet." You smile, adjusting the sides to the proper length and tying it for him.
"This is ridiculous I should be able to tie a tie." He grumbles.
"I don't think it's that important, it's not like you wear ties every day." You shrug.
"But- most adult men can tie a tie, can't they?" 
"I dunno. But you should never learn because I like doing it for you." You adjust the knot around his neck slightly and tap his nose.
"I think it's important that I learn how to tie one for myself." He says.
"Yeah if you plan to start working at a bank." You scoff.
"A bank?"
"Or any other job that requires a tie every morning. You wear them so rarely that I really don't think you're missing out on anything, but if you must know, I'll teach you to do it for yourself. Even though I like doing it for you."
"Thank you." He says and you offer him a smile. With the tie fiasco out of the way, you take a look at his full outfit. He looks good. I mean he always looks good but he looks especially good right now. You tilt your head as you examine him.
"Is that a new shirt?" You ask.
"Yes. Does it look weird?" Kurt frowns looking down at himself.
"No! Quite the opposite, it looks really good." You tell him.
"Really? I wasn't sure the color would-"
"The color is perfect. Although, now I wonder if I should change so we match better." You look down at your own dress.
"Don't. You look amazing." Kurt says softly with that doe eyed lovey look he sometimes gives you. The one that so closely resembles the blissed out expression on his face after sex. Like the other day, you went through your toy stash together, and he picked a couple out that piqued his interest- that was a fun night.
"Keep looking at me like that and we'll be incredibly late to this party." You tap under his chin and leave the bathroom before your wandering mind does make you both late.
"Late? Why? We're pretty ahead of schedule right now." Kurt checks his watch while you sit back at your vanity.
"I know but we won't stay that way with you giving me that dopey grin." You tell him as you do your eyeliner.
"What dopey grin?" He frowns at you through the mirror.
"Well you're not doing it anymore, but sometimes you get this dopey grin on your face like I put the sun in the sky every morning and it looks a lot like your 'I just got my brain turned to mush' face after we have sex." You tell him.
"Oh."
"Don't worry I'm not going to jump your bones- I'm just thinking about it." You wink at him through the mirror as you swipe on your lipstick.
"I- don't wanna be late." He says hesitantly. You spin around on your vanity bench and face him.
"This lipstick is pretty life proof. I bet I wouldn't even have to redo it before we hit the road." You say, taunting him slightly. He's within arm's reach so you pull him towards you by the wrist and he looks at you with wide eyes, anticipating your next move.
"Liebling-"
"I know I said I was only thinking about it- but you are just too cute, I don't think I can wait til we get back to eat you up." You hum. Kurt gulps, he knows he won't be able to stop you once you start putting your hands on him or rather he'll have no desire to do so, but he doesn't want to show up super late to this party.
You thumb the button of his slacks and tug down the zip, shimmying his pants about halfway down his legs, freeing his dick, which is basically at eye level with you sitting on the vanity bench.
"Now, you'll have to keep your hands to yourself, I don't want you messing up my makeup. The rest of it isn't life proof." You warn him.
"But we'll be late to the-" Kurt trails off when your hand caresses his thigh.
"What were you saying?"
"I- you're distracting me." He says.
"Am I? Should I stop then?" You hum.
"Y/n please."
"We can go! You just have to tell me you don't want it, or even just step back. You haven't moved away so I'm not sure that I'm convinced you care that much about being late at this point." You muse. You're still just rubbing his thigh, giving him plenty of time to stop you.
"I care but I- liebling you know I can't say no to you." Kurt sighs.
"I'm not going to do anything if you won't ask for it then." You shrug.
"What?"
"Since you're so concerned with being on time I'm leaving it in your hands, if you want to leave we'll leave, but if you want what I want you'll have to tell me that."
"It- it's not the end of the world if we're a little late, right?"
"Right. So are we going to be a little late?"
"I- I think we're going to be a little late." Kurt says.
"Brilliant." You smile, wrapping your hand around his dick. Kurt takes a sharp breath and his abs tense in front of you. You wrap your lips around the tip of him and he gasps, squeezes his eyes shut, and balls his fists at his side.
"Y-you look- r-really pretty right nnnow." Kurt stutters.
"Thank you baby, so do you." You wink at him and take him back into your mouth. You watch his mouth fall open and his head tip back as he loses himself in the heat of your mouth wrapped around him. You move your head slowly up and down his length, taking more and more of him with each forward movement.
Kurt's hands flex repeatedly, but he diligently keeps them off of you, a task he decides he vehemently hates. The man is never not touching you when you're together, not even in a sexual way, he just loves to have his hands on you.
You continue sucking him off alternating between slow drags and faster bobbing. It's driving him nuts, the sounds spilling from his parted lips telling you everything you need to know. His moans are breathy and sometimes border on whines as they fall on your ears like your favorite song. Only once his legs threaten to buckle beneath him do you let the teasing stop and focus on making him cum. It doesn't take long, you've pushed all the right buttons to get him properly worked up and when you swirl your tongue against the spot just below the tip that always sets him off he spills into your mouth with a groan. He has to grab your shoulder to stay upright as you work him through his orgasm. When you're confident you've swallowed all evidence of his release you finally pull off of him. There's that dopey post-orgasm look of his you love so much.
"I love watching you fall apart you know." You smile as he takes a very shaky deep breath. 
"Not touching you is really hard." He huffs out making you laugh.
"Feeling alright my love?" You ask him.
"I- uh- I feel unsteady."
"Well! Luckily, I have a solution for that." You tug his arm with enough force to pull him to his knees in front of you. "Addendum, it's technically not a solution, more accurate would be luckily I don't need you on your feet for this next bit." You smile.
"This next bit?"
"You said not touching me is really hard. Well now you get to touch me. I wanna see your pretty face buried between my legs."
"Well you definitely don't have to ask me twice." Kurt says, pushing up the skirt of your dress until your panties are visible. He tugs them quickly down your legs and settles between your thighs with his hands resting on them.
"God you are perfect." He practically sighs before taking one long lick of your cunt. He groans at the taste before diving in fully. Kurt's tongue is eager against you, lapping up your juices, circling your clit, thrusting in and out of your center. He eats you out like a man starved, and your fingers thread through his hair has he does so.
"Fuck, Kurt, you're so good at this." You moan, grinding against his face. Kurt pulls one of your legs over his shoulder. He continues to rub the outside of said leg as he does all your favorite tricks with his tongue and you continue to moan and shower him with praise. 'I love you's and 'god that feels good's break up your cacophony of moans and groans. You arch towards him when he fucks you with his tongue, squeeze your legs around his head when he draws tight circles against your clit, and grind into his mouth when he slurps up your juices.
When he glances up at you and your eyes meet, you can barely stand the intensity of his gaze. He's looking at you as if his plan is to devour you from head to toe and nothing is more important than doing exactly that in this moment.
"You are so fucking hot Kurt." You sigh. Kurt groans deep in his throat and the vibrations make you gasp briefly. You pull at his hair and it makes him groan again. When you start releasing a string of curses Kurt focuses all his ministrations on your clit, tight circles that are sure to push you to the edge and over it rather quickly.
"Holy FUCK!" You groan as your orgasm hits. Kurt continues to tongue at your pussy until the aftershocks pass. You drop your leg from his shoulder making Kurt lean back.
"God I love you." Kurt says kissing your knee.
"I love you too my darling." You say smiling at him as you try to fix his hair a bit. You look over your shoulder to check your makeup in the vanity mirror.
"That- was definitely worth being late for." Kurt hums and you laugh.
"I'm glad you agree. And look at that, my lipstick still looks perfect." You muse.
"That would be one hell of an advertisement actually." Kurt chuckles.
"Definitely." You say putting on your earrings and necklace. Kurt stands and tucks himself back into his trousers. You grab a wet wipe from one of the drawers at your vanity and stand up, taking a moment to clean off Kurt's face.
"I was planning to clean that up myself ya know." Kurt says.
"I'm not going anywhere, you're welcome to more later." You wink.
"I will take you up on that." He says.
"Later my love, we should get going." You say. You give him a quick kiss and take his hand, leading him out of your room so you're not any later to this party.
***
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kookinglikeachef · 2 days ago
Text
ATEEZ AS FRAT GUYS
Ot8 x F. Reader Content warning: Sexual language
kookinglikeachef: Was originally writing this for “The Sex Lives of College Guys” ff but I don’t think I’ll be doing it anymore because of internal doubts🥲
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Hongjoong:
Obviously the fraternity president
He runs shit in and out of the frat house
Takes gender and theory studies courses
And bagged a lot of partnerships with local businesses for fundraising
He had to convince the dean many times not to expel certain members
*Cough* SanGi *cough*
He can be a bit of a snob and a little uptight
Sets strict drinking limits and instruct that the house is intact the next morning
20 minutes in and he’s convincing everyone to climb the chimney
Can usually handle his alcohol but when he gets piss drunk
He’s Debby Ryan-ing at every girl that talks to him
Seonghwa:
Alpha nerd
He only cares about his LEGOs and turning his assignments in on time
Locks himself in his room when there’s a party
Because he just got his new Star Wars set
Eventually joins halfway through
Only to judge everyones never have I ever scandals
But they won’t ever get one out of him
“Never have I ever been to a sex party”
Please he HOSTED and ORGANIZED
Laughing in his head cause not a single soul will ever know about it
Not even his members
And if you’re wondering how no one will find out?!
Well he’s got a fallback plan that proves he was at his fraternity in his room
During said day and said times
BUILDING HIS DAMN LEGOS
He’s also the one that take care of his brothers after a huge party
Probably the only reason the entire house hasn’t gone to shit tbh
Yunho:
The one with the girlfriend
They’ve been together since the second year of high school
And got into the same college
Still going four years strong
He’s majoring in computer engineering
So his servers are not the only thing that can sustain a long uptime *wink, wink*
His hobbies are taking photos of his girlfriend
Or trying any and every kink in the book with her
MULTIPLE PREGNANCY SCARES
Beer pong king
If anyone tries to hit on him he will not let them finish a sentence without making it clear he’s taken
Doesn’t mean that he dislikes getting attention from people that aren’t his girlfriend, though
Sometimes he’d flirt back
Says it’s not cheating if nothing physical happens
Definitely disregards his girlfriend’s feelings about it
He can be a jerk sometimes
Yeosang:
1stly
He don’t wanna be here
He don’t even know how he got into a frat in the first place
Yet he unexpectedly fit in well
Truthfully, he’s the one that’s attracting all the ladies to the frat house
Like roaches
The sorority girls LOVE him
And I mean they want him so bad
As a sister AND to get eaten out by him
Even though he only ever hooked up with one girl
She spread the news like jelly on bread and he’s suddenly that Pod the Rod type (game of thrones lmao)
Pretends to not understand why girls are in love with him
When his members ask him about it,
“I don’t know her” he’ll shrug
It’s always the quiet ones
San:
He’s definitely a legacy
Comes from generations of mischief
I solemnly swear that he’s up to no good
Also comes from money but doesn’t like to brag about it
He’s getting a Bachelor of Arts degree
And is a strip poker enthusiast
Never has a shirt on
He fucks every other week but not-so-secretly just wants to fuck his best friend
Bro bonding time is his favorite time
He loves to talk feelings and makes sure his members are okay
And actually enjoys the charity events
Even volunteers as the mascot
And daydreams about what it would be like to fuck his best friend in it
He and Wooyoung are infamous for their coma-inducing
“Frat punch”
The recipe is only known to them
But anyone who attends their parties are deeply warned about it
He forces people to listen to his drunk rants about how much he’s in love with his best friend of 12 years
Then blacks out under the table hugging a bottle with her picture taped to it
It’s not creepy
He’s just down bad
Still shows up early to morning lectures in blacked out sunglasses
And gets scolded by his best friend
Then he remembers when he told someone that he’s in love with his best friend
Thinks it may have been her
Mingi:
Mingki is the shy one
Or at least that’s what he wants people to believe
No guy on campus likes bringing their girl around him because
HE. WILL. TAKE. THEIR. BITCH.
And he doesn’t even mean to
But he’s ultimately sweet and will never turn down sex
He sleeps around a lot as well as sleeping through classes
Missed and failed his exams
So his grades aren’t as hot as him
Gets told a lot that if he really applied himself
He’d be a great business major
But he doesn’t really gaf
Everyone thinks he’s failing
But he passes with flying colors
Did I mention that he fucked the dean’s wife because she promised to convince her husband not to expel him?
Wooyoung:
Everyone on campus knows about this mother fucker right here
Friends with literally everybody
He majors in history
And is THE life of the party
If he’s not there it’ll be lame af
Good thing he never misses one, though
And still manages to keep up clean grades
He gets invited to other fraternity parties
Thinks he’s going to die at every party
Genuinely believes that the hash slinging slasher is out to get him
That’s just a result of the “Frat Punch”
He does not do relationships
Only has friends with benefits and brags about his favorite ones
Texts “hey big head” whenever he’s horny
And would tag them in fwb memes
He’ll still invite them to hangout with his members
Even after being balls deep in them like five minutes ago
Jongho:
Will deny being in a frat unless you show up outside his door to prove it
Only joined because he heard the rooms are bigger
He does EVERYTHING
From theater to sports to board games with elderly residents
So you know he’s pulling the theater kids and athletes and a classmates auntie
He majors in one of two subjects
Computer Science or Architecture
You see what he does to those apples and watermelons?!
Those hands are God-given
Ask the swim team
At parties, he’s in charge of the playlists
And he sneaks some Wicked in there when everyone’s too drunk to notice
He’s banned from ordering kegs because he kept ordering wine instead
Beats everyone’s ass at pool
Wooyoung likes to hustle people into placing bets on him but he’d just give the money to any charity the sorority might have
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jjscrybaby · 2 days ago
Note
A request for JJ!!
I was thinking something kinda angst. So JJ hates the reader and she hates him. They both think each other has a great life and is jealous. But maybe one day on her usual bike ride around the cut, y/n sees JJ’s dad get aggressive with him and realises how JJ’s life is hard. But she doesn’t go to help because she was scared. Feeling bad that she didn’t help she wonders around and she goes home late which results in an argument with her mom. At that time JJ was doing a delivery with Pope and hears and sees everything and when y/n is outside walking around trying to calm herself down and distract from the pain she accidentally bumps into JJ and they have a talk.
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jj maybank x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (luke maybank being an ass, reader’s mom is also an ass, overall just bad parents!)
not proofread and written at 6am so my bad if there’s any mistakes 🤗
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶
One of the main differences between you and JJ were your social status’. JJ came from the Cut, he grew up catching his own food, roaming the streets at the age of seven without a care in the world, stealing just to get by. You grew up on Figure Eight, you never had to lift a finger, your parents never had to worry about where their next pay check was coming from. He was jealous.
JJ grew up with freedom, with a group of friends he called his family, he never had to worry about grades or being perfect because no one cared if he was. You grew up with snobby rich kids as the only people you could hang out with, your mom dictated everything you did down to the clothes you’d wear to the mall, you felt embarrassed to even leave the house if your hair was slightly greasy. You were jealous.
You’d known JJ Maybank since you were a kid, you went to the same Elementary school and then over the years you’d see each other at parties or at the club where he worked. There wasn’t ever something that happened that gave you both a reason to hate the other, you just did.
Something your parents were definitely not aware of was the route you’d take on your weekly bike ride. You needed an escape from the ‘perfect’ life, so at least once a week you’d take your little pink bicycle and you’d ride around the Cut. You weren’t sure what it was that drew you to it in the first place, especially after the horror stories you’d grown up hearing, but you always felt calm when you rode around with your AirPods in.
It was about six o’clock, you were supposed to be home for dinner in an hour because your father had some clients coming over and you were wanted as well. You were about to head back home when the sound of yelling caught your attention. You turned round the corner, standing still at the end of the street.
“You smell like a damn bar!” It was JJ. You didn’t know he lived here, but then again why would you? You weren’t friends. There was an older man stumbling after him, following the blonde down the porch steps.
“Ain’t that rich comin’ from you?” The man, who you assumed was non other than Luke Maybank, snorted.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” JJ scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to look at his dad.
“Means you ain’t better than me, kid. It’s in your blood, you’re a Maybank,” Luke mocked.
You could see JJ shake his head, a scowl on his face that was hiding the hurt he felt. “I’m nothin’ like you. And I never will be.”
“Say whatever you want, don’t make it true,” Luke shrugged, taking a sip from the beer that you hadn’t noticed was in his hand. “Where the fuck you goin’, anyways? Ain’t been home in weeks.”
Weeks? You had heard the stories about Luke, the robberies and the bar fights, but you didn’t think he’d treat his own son like this. He spoke to him as if he was a stranger, as if he couldn’t care less about him.
“Yeah, and I shouldn’t have bothered coming back at all,” JJ stated, turning to continue walking away. Luke grabbed his arm, yanking him back and holding him in place. “Get the fuck off me, man!”
“Gotta show some respect, Jay!” Luke yelled, making you flinch.
Why were the neighbours not coming out? Why hadn’t anyone done something about this? You felt sick, and you felt even worse when you got on your bike and rode away before you had to see how this ended.
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶
“You alright?” JJ hated that question, especially when he knew why it was being asked. The shiner that he sported now. Pope looked at him sympathetically, a sad smile on his face.
“I’m fine. Ready to get some good tips,” JJ shrugged, taking the grocery bags from his hands. “Who orders food at eight o’clock?”
“Rich people,” Pope muttered. “Don’t lose any of that shit.“
“Yeah, yeah.”
JJ walked to your house, he knew it was yours from the last name above the slip of paper Pope had given him. He was starting to walk up the driveway when he heard the noise coming from the open front door.
“I told you to be here by seven! It’s half past!” Your mother exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air.
“I— I got held up, I’m sorry.” He’d never heard you sound so small. Usually, when the two of you got at each other’s throats at a Kegger, you’d stand your ground without a care in the world. It was one of the only things he respected about you.
“Held up with what?” Your mom scoffed. He could see through the cracks in the bushes that she was shaking her head, looking disappointed.
“It’s just dinner, mom. I don’t need to be here,” you tried to argue.
“Well, I’ve already told the Henderson’s that you aren’t home. So, therefore, you will not be home. Don’t come back until they’re gone,” she stated.
“What? Mom. I haven’t got anywhere to go,” you exclaimed, voice wavering.
The door closed in your face and you let out a shaky sigh. You’d been preoccupied, feeling guilty for not sticking up for JJ, so you’d gotten home a little later than planned. Was it really that big of a deal? Tears fell as you wandered back down your driveway, trying to think of where the hell you can go.
“Uh, hey.” You flinched in shock, turning to see JJ lurking by the bushes with two grocery bags.
“What’re you doing here?” You asked quietly.
“Delivery,” he explained.
“Right, well, I can’t take it,” you muttered. “Just go knock.”
“Wait there.” You weren’t sure why you did what he said, but it wasn’t like you had anything better to do. You stood and waited, watching as he left the bags on your front door step and knocked before coming back; he didn’t even wait for a tip. “C’mon.”
The two of you walked through Figure Eight in silence, him puffing on his vape every now and then whilst you tried not to burst into tears. “I saw you and your dad, earlier.”
“What?” He turned to look at you in confusion.
“Outside your house.”
“Why were you outside my house?” He asked.
“I wasn’t, I just happened to be going past,” you explained. You bit your nails before speaking again, letting out a quiet sigh. “He’s an ass.”
Surprisingly, JJ let out a chuckle. He nodded his head. “Yeah, he is. So is your mom.” You giggled, agreeing with him. “Guess we both have shitty parents, huh?”
“Seems like it,” you shrugged. “Never thought we’d have something in common.”
“You know, my friend, John B, his house is sorta the hangout for kids with shitty parents. Did you want to… you could come over, until you can go back home,” JJ offered. He sounded anxious, as if he was asking you on a date.
You found yourself nodding your head, shyly smiling at him. “Yeah, just until I can go back home.”
You didn’t go home, instead you spent the night chatting shit about your mom with JJ whilst he rambled about his dad. You ended the night in his bed, laid on his chest as the two of you shared a joint. You didn’t feel so jealous anymore, and you were certain he didn’t either.
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