#but taylor swift made me watch just a bit more games

[queer-froggit]

the hell do you mean the chiefs are losing. there are swifites watching, and i promise you do not want to disappoint those people

[notquitecanon]

Virtual Breadcrumbs || Poly!141 x hacker!reader

Summary: A kinda prologue to Search History, While you're having your menty b back on base, a little bit from the boys' perspective. Specifically Simon. Alexa, play Mastermind by Taylor Swift.  

Part One Next Part

CW: NSFW MDNI 18+ female pronouns , porn, porn, lots of porn allusion, the boys are all handsy with each other, Simon's lowkey manipulating the situation, again irl this is harassment, stalking warning to be safe? mentions of oral and vaginal sex, really just me being nasty from Simon's point of view

It took a long time to gain access to Simon’s inner circle. Simon Riley had a habit of being intense, all or nothing, especially for those he’s decided to care about. His captain and his sergeants were in that inner circle, and he cared deeply, implicitly, about them. Health, safety, happiness, and something Simon was especially attuned to was keeping them sated. A man of action and acts of service. 

Simon was neither a poet nor a psychologist, so he didn’t spend much time or energy putting definitive terms and conditions on whatever relationship the 141 shared. He cared and he was cared for, it was intimate on all levels, and that’s all that mattered to him. 

A bond forged in bombs, bloodshed, and loyalty above all else.  Four soldiers at the top of their game, literally battle-hardened (double entendre completely intended). He was content with his little circle. 

However, he couldn’t fault the boys for missing something a little softer. Something a little sweeter, something a little more pliant. Hell, Simon wouldn’t mind burying his nose in a neck that didn’t smell like sweat, blood, and gunpowder.  

That’s where you came in. Simon’s sharp eyes didn’t miss anything. 

He saw how Price’s signature little smile rested on you whenever your explanations turned a little rambling, the look of pride in his eyes when you cracked a hard encryption- he’d called in a favor from Laswell to recruit you after all. How the Captain didn’t scold you when your work outfits were outside the civilian regulations (which was often), not that Price minded the view when you’d drop something and bend over to pick it up in your pretty skirts and heels. 

He saw how Gaz would lean over your shoulder, just a hair too close to be friendly, and watch in a little bit of awe as you worked, how the two of you spoke in code (literally) to each other. He would watch Gaz get a little hot in the face with your flirty little quips over comms, voice a little tight as he returned them. How the sergeant would bring you little pastries or coffees on days they were on base, how prided he seemed when your face lit up, and when you’d unexpectedly touch him- grab his hand or bicep with your pretty painted nails? Simon would notice how Kyle would excuse himself to go do something else, sometimes dragging Soap off with him.

And Johnny. He tried not to show it, the Scot was as loyal as they came. A dog, Simon called him often, a mutt when he was being obnoxious. Simon’d noticed Johnny literally sniffing around you, his head following the lingering scent of perfume and shampoo when you passed. He was touchy with you, passing it off as being friendly, hugging you just a bit too tight to feel the squish of your body against his- a kind of softness Simon, Price, and Gaz just couldn’t replicate. It was a sport for him, to get you to blush or stutter. 

And, fucking hell, the banter. Your voice, slightly crackly through their headsets, leading and chiding them through missions. Something about the distance or facelessness of it made you bold and teasing. Soap would egg you on over comms, sending you both down teasing explicit rabbit holes, until Price would remind both of you that the brass had access to these audio files, and you’d get shy and go quiet, but not for long.  Gaz was fairly smooth with it, not often getting out of hand until you clicked off and he’d adjust his pants and collar mid-op. Something about Price’s authority kept you a bit tamer on him, but sometimes you would slip, and the way you got all shy and apologetic, Price’s chest would puff up a bit, beard twitching with a smirk as he’d ’scold’ you. 

Simon’s men wanted you, bad. But none of them were going to be the first to admit it, none of them wanting to be the first to want more. Their loyalty to each other was their greatest value, but it was holding them back this time. But Simon had a plan, all he had to do was plant the seed. 

__

The 141 had holed up in a grungy safehouse to rest and recoup before moving on to the next portion of this assignment. ‘House’ was a bit generous- there was no central heating and it was little more than a kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, the living room was basically just the foyer with a pull-out couch that took up the entire floorspace when pulled out.  The mission hadn’t gone to shit, but it was proving tedious, and stretching into a longer commitment than they’d planned for. Price was miffed about the time commitment, but it wasn’t anything new, it happened all the time. 

Waiting for transpo from Nik and information that you were working on. Even Simon felt the sting of disappointment when you’d told them you’d need them to quit calling, that the data Price requested from you was proving to be a challenge that needed undivided attention. They were bored. Price and Gaz had slipped off somewhere so the Captain could work out some of his irritation, which in turn got Soap huffy and touchy. 

Which was why the Scot was sitting, spine curled into Simon’s side, laid across the sofa still in full gear, long legs over the side while Simon simply sat up straight ( "s’too fuckin’ cold f’ this shite", he’d muttered after they’d found the wood for the old fashioned wood stove was both wet and molding, "Body heat it is, fucks sake." ), military-issue tablet using the secure network you and Gaz had set up. Too tired to do much of anything, too mission-wired to truly relax, restless and a little homesick.

Simon wasn’t surprised that it only took two rounds of solitaire before the Scot switched to the browser and started to look through the homepage of a porn website he didn’t recognize. They both knew this strategy, get yourself off a few times and your brain releases enough ‘good’ chemicals that you might be able to get some sleep. Johnny did seem uncharacteristically indecisive, getting quickly squirmy and irritated, as he continuously clicked ’next page’ waiting for something to catch his eyes.

A sniper always sees a good shot when it lines itself up, time to plant the seed. 

"Give it ‘ere." Simon gruffed, plucking the tablet out of Johnny’s hands, only smirking at the coarse language Johnny offered in return, though he didn’t attempt to get the tablet back. Waiting curiously and not so patiently for whatever Simon was going to produce, what a good dog.  The lieutenant took a couple minutes to find the right seed to plant, using key phrases that produced the results he was looking for. 

He let Soap peruse his yieldings. The actresses had some things in common, familiar hair and eye colors, familiar because they shared them with you. And the actors doing such filthy things to them? Well, that was the seed (double entendre not intended) Simon was planting, the bone he was throwing to Johnny, all the actors were Scottish.  The sniper knew his shot landed when Soap muttered under his breath, taking the tablet back, hips shifting a bit subconsciously as he scrolled, watching the thumbnails give little snippet previews, "Steamin’ Jesus, Lt…" 

"Seen you sniffin’ around our analyst. Pretty bird." Simon shrugged but his eyes were just as fixed on all the thumbnails, girls that looked vaguely like you in all sorts of positions getting rammed on Johnny’s- sorry, the actor’s cock. He saw the look of (Catholic) guilt on the sergeant’s face, swirling with lust and a pretty flush under his stubble, so Simon swooped in with another seed, motioning to a thumbnail where an actress with the same hair as you was moaning, "Bet our bird'd look better, bet she’d sound better." 

The guilt was gone, the seed planted and flourishing in the Scot’s brain, Johnny’s lips growing into a wicked grin as he settled on a video, not bothering with headphones or squirreling away in the bathroom.  One video turned to three, the two men taking turns chiding and teasing the other, and when his sergeant finally burst, it was your name he called out. 

Yes, his plan was going to work beautifully. 

___

For a quick two-minute search with the sole purpose of quickly getting Soap off, Simon hadn’t been displeased with his results. Neither had Johnny if the spring in his step and uptick in screen time was any indication. The actresses shared features with you, but he was positive there was a closer match out there. And since he couldn’t exactly ask you, their lass in the chair as Soap called you, he turned to their other tech guru and the next part of his plan. Kyle. 

He was a bit more straight-laced than either Simon or Johnny, he’d be harder to convince. Simon didn’t know if he had it in him to debate the morality of purposely seeking out a porn star that was as close as physically possible to you… Or how that might affect the relationship amongst the 141… Ghost wasn’t known for being the moral backbone of the task force, and this wasn’t an issue that could exactly be bullied to be won.  

So, when first met with some resistance even if Garrick’s face was flushed and he was shifting in his seat, ("Simon, that’s… I don’t know what but it’s not right. What if she finds out-") he delegated some orders to Johnny. 

Simon didn’t know what the Sergeants got up to- that’s a lie, he had a pretty good idea, and he expected a repeat performance later- but when they came back, Kyle’s eyes were still a little glazed and his shoes were on the wrong feet. 

"Well?" Simon raised an eyebrow looking up from the rifle he was meticulously cleaning. Johnny was smirking smugly, belt still undone, nudging the other sergeant to remind him to answer their lieutenant. Gaz was nodding wordlessly for a moment, running a hand over his hair, slumping back in front of his military-issue computer, and opening a private browser. 

"Yeah… Yeah, mate, I’m on it." Kyle was practically still panting from whatever Johnny had done to/for him. Simon smirked, going back to his rifle, until after a moment when Kyle’s voice was more level, he added his requirement, "If I find her-" 

He paused, cheeks heating a bit as he reworded himself a bit, "A look-a-like, I mean, I get to taste her first." 

Simon could work with that. 2 down, 1 to go. 

____

Lastly, John Price. Saved him for last for a reason, but he was also the easiest. Simon waited until the assignment was on the up and up again. Summit fever to push through and go home had its claws in all of them. He knew it was a good time because, after the last firefight and subsequent march through the woods to a safe zone, all the boys were too tired to fool with each other... much. Price was sitting against a tree, that ridiculous hat of his resting on his propped-up knee, face illuminated by his cigar and the light of his phone.

Wordlessly, Simon crouched beside the captain and held his hand out expectantly for the phone. Price blew his smoke with a quirked brow but was curious to what the sniper had in mind, placing the device in the waiting gloved hand. 

"What’re you up to, Simon?"  Price inquired suspiciously, lowering his eyes to the light of the screen as it was handed back to him. His blue eyes, older looking than the captain really was, widened for a second before darkening in the low light of the forest, "So this is what the Sergeants’ve been on about, uncanny…" 

Price watched the very short prelude, a woman who looked so much like you, wearing something a little racier than you’d wear to the office but as blood rushed elsewhere, Price found the realism didn’t matter much when if he squinted… it was you stripping off a cardigan and letting some sort of authority figure pop the buttons of your blouse before shoving you under a desk with your pretty painted lips wrapping around his- sorry, the actor’s throbbing cock… 

Seeing the way John’s expression shifted, Simon smirked under his mask, raising back to his full height and returning to where he’d stashed his gear. His plan was almost complete, they were in the final stretch.

___

Simon was watching over Johnny’s shoulder, his hips occasionally rutting through his clothes into the scot’s back, a video that the sniper had chosen. Soap thought it was really funny that it happened to be from your doppelganger's Halloween playlist, but now was just as entranced watching the tall domineering figure clad in all black and mask absolutely ruin you her. The bed was a perk of finally making it to an actual base, with officer’s barracks, waiting for the official expo back to you home.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon groaned, biting Johnny’s shoulder through his mask and the sergeant’s t-shirt, as gloved hands twisted into hair just like yours. It was hard not to insert himself into the fantasy. A knock on the door made him growl, pulling him away from the delicious video and friction that Soap’s weight against him was providing. With more force than really necessary, Simon whipped the door open, only relaxing a little bit when Price was standing there with Gaz, both of them with their strategizing faces on. So, he wasn’t the only one making plans lately.

“See the new video that got posted?” Gaz questioned, looking down to unlock his tablet undoubtedly sharing it over to Johnny’s laptop still playing on Ghost’s bed. Both Lieutenant and Sergeant shook their head no. Johnny clicked on the share notification, releasing a breath that puffed his cheeks and raised his eyebrows as he read the title alone, the video still loading in the base’s less than ideal wifi (the 141’s latest habit undoubtedly eating up most of the bandwidth). 

It was your doppelganger’s stage name accompanied by the words Barrack’s Bunny Gets Gang Banged! 

“Fuckin’ Hell.” Simon repeated, words almost snarling his jeans chafing him as his cock twitched in his still buttoned jeans. 

“We’re having a dinner at mine.” John decided cooly, seemingly unrelated, leaning in the doorframe. His demeanor was its usual casual confidence, but his eyes were dark with the kind of want that spelled disaster for anything that stood between him and his goal. The seeds Simon had planted were growing like invasive weeds, wild and quick, “She’s invited.” 

“How’re we playin’ this?” Simon questioned relinquishing the reins to his captain, he was just as much of a soldier as the rest of them, he took orders well, watching as Gaz joined Johnny at the foot of the bed, both Sergeants watching the video together, hands already starting to wander, gear being unbuckled and unsnapped. Price smirked at the sight, adjusting himself through his camo cargos. 

“Cooly. Don’t wanna spook th’ sweet thing.” He smiled, mostly to himself making himself comfortable on the tiny futon that had been cramped in Simon’s room as an ‘officer’s luxury’. The captain dwarfed it, and patted the limited space beside him for his lieutenant to join him, “We’ll have ‘er eating out of our hands. And then we’ll have her.”

Price said this with the same easy decisiveness as he’d have busting a terrorist cell, but the curl of his lip, how his legs spread to accommodate the growing erection in pants noted the difference for Simon, his captain nodding towards the Sergeant’s watching the video, their breaths already getting heavy. Kyle’s hands fisting the bed's blankets like he might slip away and Johnny’s hips were already rocking a bit. Price’s smirk grew, eyes flicking to Simon before looking back forward, “You’ve been busy, Simon. Never miss anything, do you?” 

It was a mix of praise and teasing that, from his Captain, made Simon’s affirmative grunt a bit lower, something twisting in his gut, like a pet that wanted to be stroked more. Price chuckled deeply, nodding, “Bet that thick head’a yours hasn’t considered why you noticed alluv our infatuations with our little analyst, ‘ave you?” 

Simon didn’t respond, watching how Johnny’s eyes lit up much in the same way they did when he was presented a puzzle (bomb) that caught his interest, how he moved Kyle’s hands aside and rewinded the video, once, twice, three times at something your lookalike did that scratched his brain just right. Mutt, Simon thought, waiting for Price to continue, knowing that the captain couldn’t resist teasing him just a bit. He’d expected as much, maybe a vulgar comment or two. He was not expecting a truth bomb that turned him both introspective and horny. 

“Only reason you noticed how much we liked ‘er, cause you’re always watching her. You watch her just as much as y'watch any of us, wonder what that might mean?” Price shrugged, one hand working at his belt buckle before motioning for Gaz to turn the volume. The Captain actually laughed at the look in Simon’s eyes that most would miss before nodding back to the video and the Sergeants, “Now, watch the show."

Fucking hell. 

__

Maybe it was that little bite of introspection or the flight home where they fleshed out every last detail of their plan to get you, the real you. (“Gaz and Johnny’ll do the leg work, play up the charm, and Ghost and I’ll work the opposite angle, strong and silent.”). Maybe it was how eagerly excited Soap was or how Ghost spent his extra time scrolling through your Instagram. Maybe it was the two brief interactions with you upon returning to base- how pretty your eyes were looking up at him through your lashes, how good you smelled, the movement of your skirt as Johnny spun you around, how you got jittery under his slightest touch in the briefing room… 

By the time he found himself on Price’s couch, he was impatient. Knee bouncing, checking his watch, making Gaz track your location. When you’d been sitting out in your car for more than fifteen minutes, he all but growled, snapping at Soap, “Go get ‘er.” 

And when Soap guided you inside, pulling one of those bright smiles out of you with his own jokes, and Gaz was helping you out of your coat like unwrapping a present, your cheeks already flushed all pretty from the Sergeants’ tag team flirting routine… He didn’t think he could wait for Price to put the steaks on the grill, he needed something to sink his teeth into, sooner rather than later. He was sure if he bit the curve of your neck, it’d be a lot like biting into a ripe peach… supple and sweet. Just like you. 

Oh, his plan had worked, the seeds were planted and growing and overtaking every other thought in his mind other than making sure him and his boys were sated at dinner tonight, and you were on the menu. 

____

To quote Sir Mix-A-Lot, "Little Does she know I'm a nasty DAWG."

Y’all are getting this because my writing app deleted what I had done on Search History pt 2. Reminder- the reader is loosely based on Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds. The physical description is pretty vague, but lots of skirts and heels and makeup are mentioned, and I might have gotten carried away and implied

Once again: thanks to any and all tags and comments, i collect them and they will be buried in my pyramid when I die. seriously, they inspire me to keep going and I screen shot them to show to my friends :))))

Also so sorry if you got tagged twice im bad at taglists!!

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[alsofoundinpeas]

No One's Ever Had Me (Not Like You)

Summary: After JJ's insensitive remarks toward Spencer become too much to ignore, Y/N steps in to comfort him, igniting a friendship that rapidly grows into something more. Though Y/N falls for him first, Spencer soon finds himself falling even harder, realizing no one has ever cared for him the way she does—and he's ready to return it in full.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Oral/Facesitting (f!receiving), dirty talk, praise kink (if you squint), masturbating (m!only), fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex/PinV sex (wrap it before you tap it lovelies pls), c** swallowing (I don't know how else to put that HAHAHA), slight overstim (for both parties), slightly ooc!JJ (for the plot), one brief argument scene between the reader and JJ. Fluff and smut. Coworkers to friends to lovers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader/afab!reader

A/N: I love a little "she fell first, he fell harder" trope, so I'm hoping you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) I am once again pleading my case that I am NOT a JJ hater!! I just saw a clip of this scene from season 3 and was inspired because I too have been in Spencer's shoes and honestly it hurts, so I wanted to change up the outcome a little bit. The title comes from Taylor Swift's "So High School" but the fic isn't necessarily based around the song if that makes sense. As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Y/N had never been particularly fond of JJ. They worked well together, of course—professionalism came first—but there was something about JJ that rubbed her the wrong way. It felt so high school to say, but Y/N had always seen her as a bit of a "mean girl."

Y/N had joined the BAU a year after Spencer, and she’d witnessed firsthand the awkwardness when Spencer, shy and eager, had asked JJ to go to a football game with him as a date after Gideon had given him tickets. A sweet, innocent gesture, only for JJ to show up with Penelope in tow, turning the evening into a humiliating disaster for Spencer. That was just one of the many moments Y/N had found herself bristling at JJ's treatment of him. Despite JJ’s consistent indifference and occasional cruelty, Spencer’s feelings for her had never wavered. 

Until today.

Spencer sat across from JJ on the jet, eager to share his excitement about the book he was reading and its similarities with Pinocchio, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm as he rambled on. He barely noticed the lack of interest in JJ's eyes, her eyebrows raised in a near-sarcastic expression as she muttered a disinterested "Wow" in the middle of his sentence. She tossed the case file onto the table without a second glance and stood. "Interesting. Coffee?" she asked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, her smile a brittle, saccharine mask. 

Spencer froze, his words dying in his throat as she swiftly walked away. He felt a sinking sensation in his chest—an awkward mix of humiliation and disappointment. Was he that annoying? His hands trembled slightly as he glanced down at the book in his lap, the pages now feeling heavier than they had moments ago. He cleared his throat, but the discomfort lingered, thick in the air.

Y/N had been watching the whole exchange from her spot on the couch, her eyes narrowing as she watched JJ throw her head back in a loud laugh at something Morgan had said about “escaping the robot” from across the jet. That was the breaking point. Y/N's stomach twisted with frustration. She was tired—so tired—of watching JJ repeatedly gut the sweet boy simply because he had a hopeless crush on her, one that JJ clearly saw as beneath her.  

Swinging her legs from where they were tucked underneath her, Y/N stood and made her way to the seat JJ had previously been occupying, sliding into it abruptly.

Spencer’s head jerked up as she quickly filled the seat, blinking hard as confusion washed over his features. “Oh! Uh, hey Y/N… was there something you needed?” he asked softly, his gaze dropping back to the table, hoping she wouldn’t notice the wounded look in his eyes.

“I was listening to your conversation earlier and wanted to ask if you would continue. Please.”

Spencer’s mouth parted in surprise, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. She… wanted to listen to him? He swallowed, his brows furrowing slightly as he hesitated before speaking. “You... you don’t have to do that just to make me feel better, you know.”

Y/N shook her head firmly, her hands coming together on the table as she leaned in slightly, her eyes never leaving his. “Spencer,” she said softly, her voice steady. “I’m not asking you to continue because I feel sorry for you. I’m asking because I actually want to hear what you have to say.” Her tone was gentle yet sincere, and there was no mistaking the genuine interest in her words.

Spencer’s heart raced as he stared at her, his mind struggling to catch up with the moment before he finally opened his mouth, stumbling over the words to continue his excited rant from earlier. Spencer felt something shift inside him with every hum of acknowledgment, nod, and occasional question or light joke. It hit him all at once—this was how she always spoke to him: fully engaged, genuinely curious. She didn’t see him as the genius or the outcast. She saw him as... just Spencer. A person. Not a curiosity. Not a burden. Just him.

And for the rest of the flight, Y/N encouraged Spencer to spill every single thought that came to mind, entranced by the sweet boy in front of her for the entire time.

It was late when they finally landed, the team worn out and eager to get home. With quick goodbyes and Hotch’s promise of a day off tomorrow, the group trickled out of the office, one by one. When Spencer was left alone in the bullpen, he let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair as he sat at his desk under the guise of needing to look for something before leaving. His thoughts kept drifting back to the interaction with Y/N on the jet. He couldn’t shake it. And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.

It wasn’t like they weren’t already friends—talking to her was nothing out of the ordinary. But something about their interaction today felt different. Maybe it was how quickly she’d stepped in when she saw he was hurt? Then again, the more Spencer thought about it, the more he realized that wasn’t all that unusual either. He’d often felt out of place—whether it was the team’s teasing that sometimes went too far, JJ’s backhanded compliments that left him more bewildered than flattered, or the officers who looked past him because of his age or appearance.

And every time, without fail, Y/N had been there. She was always the one picking up the pieces of his bruised confidence, offering him quiet support with nothing more than a kind word or a warm smile, never asking for anything in return.

“Spencer?” 

Spencer jumped, the unexpected voice pulling him out of his thoughts. He spun around in his seat, heart racing, to find Y/N standing there, her hands raised in a placating gesture. He’d thought she’d already left with the rest of the team, but apparently, he’d been wrong.  

“Whoa, take it easy—it's just me. Are you okay?” Y/N approached slowly, her expression softening with concern as Spencer took slow, deep breaths, trying to steady his racing heart.

“Uh, yeah! I-I’m fine,” Spencer stammered, wincing as his voice cracked. “I just… I thought everyone had already left.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said with a chuckle, flashing a sheepish grin. “I told Hotch I’d drop everything off in evidence before heading out, but I kind of took my time.” She shrugged, then glanced at him. “What about you? Why are you still here?”

Spencer hesitated, his brow furrowing as he thought about her question. What was he still doing here, other than overthinking a simple conversation on the jet? He cleared his throat and stood up from his desk. “I thought I left a certain book here, but... it turns out it’s actually at home.” The weak excuse was followed by a nervous laugh as Spencer fidgeted with his fingers, silently hoping she wouldn’t question him further. 

It seemed luck was on his side, as she nodded slowly—her disbelief clear, but deciding not to press. Instead, she offered a soft smile and tilted her head toward the elevator. “Well, if you're heading out now, would you like to walk with me to my car?” Y/N asked, her voice laced with a hint of hope. “I can give you a ride so you don’t have to take the metro so late.”

Spencer was momentarily surprised by the offer, but before he could overanalyze it, he found himself nodding. She’d offered him rides before, and he’d always turned her down, worried he’d be inconveniencing her or that she was just being polite. But tonight, after the grueling case, he felt too drained to talk himself out of it. Honestly, he wasn’t opposed to spending a little more time with her—just the two of them.

“Um… that would be really nice, actually. Thank you.” 

Y/N waved it off with a playful grin. “It’s really no big deal, Spencer. I honestly wish you'd take me up on it more often. I worry about you on those late trains, and I live just five minutes from you. It’d be nice to have some company on the way home.” 

They continued their light conversation the entire way to the parking garage, pausing only when they got to her car. Y/N fumbled with her keys, unlocking the doors quickly before they slid inside.

The first thing Spencer noticed was the sweet fragrance of her perfume, filling the small space around them. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but now he found himself trying hard not to breathe in too deeply, captivated by the scent and wanting more of it. The smell of her shampoo blended with the fragrance, intensifying as she turned her head to back out of her parking spot. Spencer hadn’t even realized the car had started until that moment.

The next thing he noticed was the sticker on her dash reading Amor Fati. A faint smile curled at his lips as he shifted his gaze to her. He watched her silently for a moment as she focused on the road.

“Lover of fate, huh?”

“Hm?” Y/N frowned in confusion, shooting him a quick sideways glance as she stopped at a red light. It took a moment before she realized what he was referring to. “Oh, yeah. What about it, doc?” She chuckled, her voice light and teasing.

Spencer hummed, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, nothing… But, did you know that Friedrich Nietzsche built most of his philosophy around that phrase?”

They plunged into a lively conversation, exchanging thoughts on various philosophers and their personal interpretations of the phrase. Spencer was captivated. The only other person who had ever indulged him in such “nerdy” discussions was Penelope (mostly about Doctor Who, of course). It was oddly refreshing, but at the same time, it only added fuel to the fire of his overthinking.

What was it that kept him so hopelessly fixated on JJ? She could be a good friend at times—he wouldn’t deny that—but there were moments when he felt like nothing more than a charity case. Like that kid who clings to someone at school, oblivious to the fact that they don’t actually want to talk to them. She was beautiful, of course—anyone could see that. But they didn’t share much in common, and their hobbies barely aligned. So why did he always end up seeking her out, when there were so many other people he could spend time with?

After the incident on the jet, Spencer had made a decision. He was done pouring so much energy into the blonde liaison and instead would focus on building a genuine friendship with Y/N. Not just the casual co-worker relationship they had, but something real. Maybe that’s why her sudden attention on the jet had caught him off guard. Maybe it wasn’t a crush forming, but rather a deep-rooted loneliness, a subconscious desire for a true friend. That had to be it.

The drive to his apartment seemed to fly by, and as Spencer stepped out of the car, he was surprised by the sense of reluctance that settled over him. He murmured his thanks and goodnight to Y/N, offering a shy smile, his thoughts lingering on the brief but unexpected moment of connection.

"Hey, Spencer?" Y/N called just as he was about to close the door. He paused, and she went on, her tone genuine. "I meant what I said. If you ever want to skip the metro and ride with me instead, I’d love the company. Honestly, I enjoyed our drive so much more than the usual Top 40 hits on the radio."

Spencer’s smile grew, a hesitant nod accompanying the soft bite of his lower lip. This was the opportunity to build something real with her, and for once, he decided not to second-guess it. “I’d really like that, actually.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, a blend of relief and excitement bubbling up inside her. A smile spread across her face as she let out a soft breath. "Great. I’m looking forward to it," she said, her voice warm. "Goodnight, Spencer. Enjoy your day off tomorrow."

The first week of Spencer’s newfound behavior had Y/N feeling… disoriented, for lack of a better term. It wasn’t a bad feeling, not at all. She was genuinely thrilled by the extra attention, but she couldn’t quite figure out what had caused the sudden shift in their dynamic.

Spencer had begun riding home with her after work, both of them quickly growing fond of the newfound companionship. Throughout the day, he found himself gravitating toward her desk more often, offering to help with paperwork or providing a second opinion when she second guessed something. As they spent more time together, their conversations became easier—what had started as awkward exchanges soon evolved into Spencer initiating talks, no longer waiting for her to take the lead.

The irritated huff that escaped JJ’s lips as she stormed past everyone and into her office after Spencer politely declined her offer to sit with her and sort through case files, made it clear—Y/N wasn’t the only one noticing the change.

The next notable shift came when the BAU was called to California for a case. As everyone filed onto the jet and took their usual seats, there was one exception: Spencer Reid. When Y/N settled onto the couch, she was greeted by a soft, uncertain voice.

“Can I join you?” Spencer asked, his fingers nervously tugging at the end of his cardigan sleeves as he blinked at her with those sweet, vulnerable brown eyes.

The entire team glanced up in surprise, caught off guard by Spencer's decision not to take his usual spot across from JJ. Y/N, both puzzled and pleased, quickly moved to make space, patting the seat beside her with an encouraging smile.

"Of course, Spence. Go right ahead."

Spencer let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders drooping in relief as he settled into the seat next to Y/N, the tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying easing from his body. Ignoring the gawking from the others, he leaned in slightly, feeling more at ease in her presence. As Y/N opened the case file, he glanced at her with a small smile, ready to dive into the work with her by his side.

Morgan chuckled from across the jet, looking at JJ with raised brows as she scoffed to herself. "What'd you do to piss off the kid?"

“I didn’t do anything! And when did she start calling him ‘Spence’?” JJ grumbled, her arms crossed defensively as she narrowed her eyes at the two of them.

“Whoa,” Morgan muttered, his smile dropping into a frown. “Didn’t realize I was hitting a sore spot. What’s it matter what she calls him, anyway?”

JJ stiffened, her words catching in her throat as she struggled to respond. Morgan was right—she wasn’t the only one who could give Spencer a nickname. But that was her name for him, and it stung a little more now, given the distance that had been growing between them.

"It’s nothing," JJ replied quickly, forcing a casual shrug. "I was just surprised, that’s all." But even as she spoke, she couldn’t shake the unease lingering in her chest, unsure why it bothered her so much.

The remainder of the flight was spent with the team discussing the case, Hotch assigning tasks for when they touched down. Once they had gone over everything they could, the conversation tapered off, and silence settled over the cabin. Each team member retreated into their own thoughts, but Y/N and Spencer remained deep in discussion, quietly exchanging ideas about the unsub.

As they leaned in to continue their conversation, they unknowingly inched closer, drawn together by the ease of their shared focus. And when Spencer felt Y/N's knee brush against his, he kept his leg still, savoring the contact in silence—his secret to keep.

It took Spencer just over two months to finally gather the courage to ask Y/N to hang out outside of work or their shared car rides—something he had started contributing to so he could get more comfortable with driving. She’d quickly climbed the ranks of people he favored and felt comfortable with, but the fear of rejection still held him back. He didn’t want to jeopardize the connection they’d built, especially when it felt so important to him.

Spencer’s fear dissolved when he asked Y/N to come over and watch a film he’d picked up at an antique shop. Her excited smile and enthusiastic "Duh, I'd love to!" made him realize that she’d likely been waiting for him to take the first step all along.

He was grateful for how Y/N allowed him to move at his own pace, understanding that his accelerated path through high school and college had made it difficult for him to form connections. She never rushed him, giving him the space to open up when he was ready and letting their relationship develop naturally.

Y/N arrived at Spencer’s apartment, her arms loaded with snacks and dressed in cozy clothes, her excitement palpable. She enjoyed their car rides, of course, but an hour together hardly seemed enough compared to the time she truly longed to spend with him.

Y/N had been captivated by Spencer for years, but the more time they spent together, the harder her heart beat for him—every smile, every laugh, every conversation only added to her growing feelings. She told herself she was content with just being friends, that having him in her life, even in the smallest way, was enough. But deep down, she knew the truth—her heart yearned for something more, something that seemed just out of reach.

"Y/N! Hi, welcome in!"

The door swung open to reveal Spencer, his grin wide with excitement as he motioned for her to step inside. The sight of him—beaming with an almost childlike enthusiasm—made her smile in return. His apartment matched her expectations in the best way possible: shelves overflowing with books and quirky knick-knacks, soft, ambient light spilling from lamps that cast a cozy glow across the room, and a desk strewn with an organized mess of case files and open journals. It was a perfect reflection of Spencer—intellectually chaotic, but with an undeniable charm and warmth.

Spencer's heart skipped a beat as she entered the living room, and for a moment, he lost track of everything around him. He had always seen her dressed up for work—polished, professional, a perfect image of control. But now, in her casual clothes, with her hair down and no hint of the usual makeup, she looked entirely different.

She was still stunning, but it was a softer kind of beauty, one that crept up on him and left him breathless before he even realized it. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable at first glance, but once he took her in, he couldn’t seem to pull his focus away. Spencer had always thought he knew Y/N, but this version of her… this version felt like a secret he wasn’t ready to discover yet.

"Where would you like these?" Y/N asked, lifting her arms up with the snacks.

The sound of her voice broke Spencer from his daze, and he quickly moved to help, grabbing a few items to set them down on the coffee table. "Oh, uh, you didn’t have to bring snacks," he stammered, his hands fumbling with the food as he awkwardly rearranged it. "I was just going to order takeout or something. You’re the guest," he added, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush. His mind was racing, still caught in the subtle sweetness of her perfume that lingered in the air as he leaned in to grab the bags, making it hard to focus.

Y/N shrugged, a small grin playing on her lips as she set the snacks down. "I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. And if you’re still craving takeout later, I won't stop you from ordering it. Sound good?"

He nodded, his nose twitching as he grinned, feeling his tension ease. It was just Y/N, he reminded himself. There was no reason to feel this flustered.

An hour later, with the movie playing and a bag of gummy bears between them, Spencer quickly realized he'd been wrong. He had plenty of reasons to feel flustered.

The film, which had subtitles, was riddled with translation errors. Each time a jumbled sentence appeared, Y/N would lean in close, her breath warm against his ear causing shivers up and down his spine as she whispered, "What does that one mean?" Her thigh brushed against his, neither of them making any effort to break the contact. Spencer felt an almost electric warmth spread through him from the slight touch, his body aching for more. Was he really that starved for affection?

That night seemed to crack something deep inside him, like a dam giving way to a flood of longing for touch.

Spencer—who had always been wary of physical contact—now found himself drawn to Y/N in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Every time they handed each other papers or worked on case files together, he’d make sure their fingers brushed. As he passed by her desk, he’d let his fingers trace along her shoulder blades, offering her a quiet smile that she always returned. After particularly exhausting days, he’d seek her out, leaning into her embrace, letting her arms offer him comfort and grounding. And during their hangouts, Spencer no longer hesitated to inch closer, letting his side press against hers, or allowing her to stretch her legs over his lap. The proximity felt natural, and he couldn’t help but crave it more.

It only got worse as time went on. He couldn't keep his hands off of her. It wasn't just casual touches anymore—it was almost as if every opportunity to be near her was a chance to close the distance between them. Y/N couldn't get enough of it. And the team? They definitely noticed. JJ, in particular, seemed to pick up on it right away.

JJ had attempted to confront Spencer about his growing closeness with Y/N before, but each time, he waved her off, insisting that he and Y/N had simply discovered they had more in common than he'd realized and that he just wanted to be her friend. JJ wasn’t convinced—not for a second. It was obvious to her that Spencer was falling for Y/N, and for reasons she couldn’t fully explain, it left a bad taste in her mouth. It wasn’t that she harbored romantic feelings for him, but she had grown accustomed to his attention. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed being the one to receive it.

The tension finally boiled over when the team was dispatched to a case in Oregon.

It had been six months since the incident on the jet, and Y/N and Spencer had become almost inseparable. Garcia and Morgan, delighted by their closeness, often teased them and playfully begged them to just admit they were dating—though both vehemently insisted that their relationship was purely platonic. Rossi and Emily often exchanged knowing looks on the jet, with Emily even going so far as to snap a picture of Y/N and Spencer sleeping on the couch after a case—a cute picture featuring Spencer’s head resting on Y/N’s and her face tucked into his shoulder as they peacefully dozed together. Even Hotch seemed to approve, having reviewed the Bureau’s internal fraternization policies just in case Strauss raised an issue. The only person who didn’t seem thrilled about it was JJ.

Two days in Oregon, and the team was already facing an uphill battle. They’d been working non-stop to build a profile for the unsub, but so far, nothing had gone right. There were no witnesses who could provide a description, a local officer had already compromised key evidence from the first crime scene, and the victims seemed to have no clear link to one another. Frustration was mounting for everyone, but for JJ it was mounting for an entirely separate reason.

Spencer had been managing his frustration through subtle touches with Y/N—brief brushes of his hand against her lower back as he passed, pressing his head into her shoulder with a frustrated groan after combing through their limited information for hours... But the moment that pushed JJ to her breaking point was when Spencer, noticing an officer staring at Y/N, pulled her possessively into him, his hand firmly gripping her waist until that officer left the room.

"Y/N?"

JJ's voice was tight as she stepped into the conference room the local officers had set up for the BAU to use during their case, spotting Y/N standing in front of the pinned-up map of the area as she studied the locations where the victims had been found. Spencer had just left, going to start more coffee for them since they were running low. The rest of the team was out in the field, reinvestigating the crime scenes for anything that may have been missed initially.

Y/N looked up, her brow furrowing as JJ closed the door. They weren’t close on a personal level, and Y/N couldn’t think of any reason, related to the case or otherwise, for JJ to want to speak with her alone.

"...Yes?"

JJ lingered near the end of the table, her arms crossed across her chest as she leveled Y/N with a look that immediately had her on edge. "I’m not trying to pry, but as his best friend, I have to ask… what’s going on between you and Spencer?" Her face was twisted in a scowl, her head tilting as she waited for a response.

Y/N's eyebrows nearly shot up into her hairline at that, a scoffed laugh leaving her lips before she could stop it. His best friend. Was she serious?

"Excuse me?"

"What's going on with you and Spencer?" JJ repeated, her voice deliberate. "Everyone’s noticed how he’s been acting—the constant touching, for one, is a bit much, don’t you think? He never wants to hang out with me anymore. It’s like he's all about you now. So, are you two seeing each other or what?"

Y/N turned to face JJ fully, her lips tightening into a thin line as she took a steadying breath. Her audacity was astounding, truly. The last thing she wanted today was to argue with this fucking—

"That's hilarious, Jennifer. Really," Y/N chuckled lowly, shaking her head. "Have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—Spencer is an adult who can make his own decisions? I’m not the reason he doesn't want to spend time with you."

JJ stiffened at the mention of her name, scoffing in response. "Oh, clearly you have something to do with it. Before you started driving him home, he followed me around like a lost puppy. Now he barely even wants to be around me!"

That struck a nerve in Y/N, like a live wire finally sparked to life. A lost puppy? Was that truly how little she thought of him? Y/N's head tilted, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone as she spoke again.

"Don't you ever talk about Spencer like that again. He's not your fucking pet, Jennifer!"

Her voice was menacing as she stepped forward, grim satisfaction coursing through her as JJ stumbled backward.

"Spencer is a brilliant, capable man who’s never deserved the way you or anyone else have made him feel less than that. We’re not dating. But if we were, I wouldn’t be ashamed of him. Unlike you, who found the idea of a man like him adoring you repulsive instead of seeing it for the gift it was. Spencer Reid is a fucking treasure, and it’s entirely your fault you never realized how lucky you were to have his attention."

Y/N's face was flushed red with anger, her chest heaving as she seethed.

"So again, I have nothing to do with him not wanting to spend time with you anymore. Maybe he finally realized that you're just not as great of a person as you pretend to be."

Rather than waiting for the teary-eyed, speechless blonde to reply, Y/N grabbed her things and stormed out, heading out to take an early lunch. But as she swung the door open, she was met with Spencer standing right there, and before she could react, she collided with his chest. His hands immediately flew to her waist, steadying her as she looked up sheepishly.

"Shit! I’m sorry, Spence," Y/N muttered, still fuming from her conversation with JJ. Her face turned even redder when she realized he might have heard some of it, but she didn’t regret a word of what she’d said.

He hadn't just heard some of it... He'd heard all of it. When he’d left earlier, he’d turned back, intending to ask if she wanted to take a break from the map. Instead, he had been met with the sight of JJ closing the door, and he curiously (shamefully) pressed up against it to know what was going on.

Admittedly, it stung to hear JJ talk about him like that, even though he already knew she'd taken advantage of his past crush on her. But Y/N's words and how she defended him hit him harder than expected. It became clear in that instant—no one had ever been there for him the way she always had been, and somewhere along the way, he'd fallen deeply in love with her.

"Hey, hey, it’s alright," Spencer said quietly, his hands smoothing over her waist before resting gently on her shoulders. "Go take your lunch. You’ve earned a break. I’ll keep working on the geographical profile until you return."

Y/N offered a weary but grateful smile before walking away, leaving Spencer alone to process the revelation weighing on him.

That night, Spencer paced his hotel room, caught between waiting until they were home to tell Y/N how he felt or just saying it now. He felt like an idiot for not recognizing it sooner, for convincing himself his feelings for her were purely platonic. But now that he knew, it consumed him. He wanted to shout it to the heavens, to tell the world he was in love with her.

Spencer knew what he had to do. He realized that confessing his feelings in the middle of a case wasn’t ideal, but the thought of waiting any longer to let her know how much she meant to him was unbearable. That’s why, before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself standing outside her door at midnight, knocking softly.

"Spence? You okay?"

Her sleepy voice tugged at his heart as she opened the door, rubbing her eyes and letting out a soft yawn. She smiled faintly, gesturing for him to come in. The room was cloaked in darkness, but the moonlight spilling through the curtains illuminated the crumpled sheets, evidence of her restless sleep.

His heart hammered in his chest as he breathed in unsteadily, lowering himself onto the edge of her bed. She crawled back to the middle, flicking on the bedside lamp, the soft light casting a warm glow between them. His courage started to falter, but the gentle concern in her eyes anchored him. He remembered why he was here—because with her, he felt safe enough to face this, no matter how vulnerable he felt.

"Y/N, I—" Spencer began, his voice catching for a moment, but he continued anyway. "I heard what happened with JJ earlier, and it made me realize something I should’ve recognized a long time ago. I was so caught up in denial that it didn’t hit me until now. And I’m so sorry for that…"

Oh, fuck. He was starting to ramble. This isn't how he wanted this to go at all—

"Y/N... I'm in love with you. I am so, so in love with you that it aches. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. And it’s not just the way you look, though I could spend hours talking about how stunning you are. It’s who you are, the goodness that radiates from you. You make me want to be better, to wake up every day and try to be at least half the person you are. You care for everyone around you like it’s your purpose, and I want to be the one who takes care of you for once because you truly deserve that. I’ve never felt anything like this, and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. But I just—I needed you to know."

Y/N’s jaw dropped as Spencer’s confession filled the air, her eyes welling with tears as the words she had longed for spilled from him. She moved swiftly, sitting up from the pillows and crawling toward him, a tear dripping down her cheek as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

"I love you too, Spencer Reid," she breathed, her voice trembling with sincerity. "I love you with everything I am."

Spencer’s lungs burned as he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He returned her watery smile, his heart overflowing with love for the woman before him. Carefully, he cupped her face, his thumb following the line of her cheeks, his eyes filled with a quiet mix of wonder and adoration.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

Her lips were on his the second he uttered the last syllable.

The kiss was both gentle and intense, their lips meeting with a deliberate slowness as if savoring every moment of crossing the line from friendship into something more. There was a hunger beneath the tenderness, an unspoken yearning finally being released. Their lips parted for only a second, allowing them to suck in a quick breath before they were back on each other. Each kiss was a quiet revelation, better than they had ever dreamed.

What started as an innocent declaration of their feelings for each other quickly evolved into something more ravenous as Spencer’s tongue prodded at the seam of her lips. The soft exhale Y/N released as their tongues brushed together had Spencer groaning, one of his hands sliding to cradle the back of her head as he savored the taste of her and the feeling of her lips against his. His other hand gingerly slid down her body, settling on her hip as he leaned forward, guiding her to rest against the pillows.

Y/N’s thighs parted eagerly to make room for him between them, her hands lacing through his hair as she tugged him impossibly closer. His elbows dug into the mattress beside her body as he hovered above her, swallowing the moan that slipped from her lips when their hips pressed together. He chased her lips when she tipped her head back, kissing her with an intensity that made her dizzy and had her whining into his mouth.

"I-I want— Spence, please—"

Y/N pleaded as his lips trailed down the side of her neck to suck a mark into her collarbone, though she wasn't even sure what she was begging for. She just knew she needed him. Her body felt like it was aflame, ignited by the spark that was Spencer's tongue soothing the possessive bruise now blooming across her skin. She needed him so desperately that her mind became a blur, consumed by an endless craving, unable to focus on anything but the overwhelming desire for more—more of him, more of this, more of everything he offered.

The thin fabric of their pajamas did little to conceal the feeling of his stiff cock grinding against her in subtle rocks of his hips as his hands began to roam her body, only adding to the overwhelming need she felt coursing through her. Spencer hushed her with a gentle peck, his lips lingering against hers for a brief, sweet moment before he moved to kiss her nose, her cheeks, and finally her forehead. With each gentle kiss, she couldn't help but giggle softly, her laughter melting into the space between them.

"I know, pretty girl. You're already so worked up and all I've done is kiss you," he cooed, the words taking her by surprise. He wasn't wrong. A wet patch had started seeping through the cotton of her pants, something his fingers had taken an interest in as he began to lightly skim up and down her clit with his knuckles over the damp fabric. "No one ever takes care of you, do they, baby? Let me be the one to take care of you, Y/N. Please?" He paused, gently lifting her chin so he could meet her gaze.

Spencer’s words quieted the storm raging inside her, and she took a deep breath, her body finally relaxing. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt such a strong desire to let go, to stop carrying the weight of everything alone. To finally surrender and let someone take care of her. So she did exactly that.

"Yes. God, yes. Please, Spencer," Y/N whispered, her eyes searching his, full of need and trust.

It was as if a switch flipped the moment Spencer got the confirmation he needed.

His lips were back on hers in an instant, devouring her as though she'd melt away if he stopped touching her for even a second. He rolled them over, breaking the kiss to glide his hands underneath the rumpled t-shirt Y/N had on for bed and lifting it over her head in one swift motion. Ignoring her soft squeal of surprise, he brought his hands down to her hips, massaging the skin there before sliding his hands under the waistband of her pajama pants to grip her ass.

"Look at you… You're nothing short of incredible. Absolutely breathtaking," Spencer murmured, staring up at her in awe. The soft brown of his eyes had faded, overtaken by the dark void of his dilated pupils, as if a veil had been drawn across them. "I can't even begin to express how lucky I am to have you... how beautiful you are."

Y/N’s cheeks flushed under his gaze, her teeth gently catching her lower lip as she placed her hands beside his head for support. She shivered as her nipples brushed against the fabric of his shirt, hardened by the cool air of the hotel room and the desire she felt coursing through her. She answered with a hum and ducked her head shyly, mouthing at the sensitive skin underneath his jaw as she wriggled impatiently in his hold.

Spencer chuckled breathlessly, squeezing her ass again before retracting his hands. His fingers danced along the waistband of her pants teasingly before he began to tug them down, dragging her panties with them. His heart raced as she wiggled out of them, hammering against his chest with a rhythm that felt almost deafening. He couldn’t comprehend what he’d done to deserve someone like her, but he would spend a lifetime making sure she knew just how precious she was to him.

"It's your turn to strip," Y/N mumbled as she sat up, straddling his waist as her hands found their way under his shirt. "I feel so... exposed."

Spencer’s brows quirked in amusement, a quiet laugh slipping out before he could stop it as she shoved the shirt up and over his head. She slithered down his body, grinning up at him before placing a kiss on his hip bone. His pants soon joined the growing pile of clothes on the ground, followed shortly after by his boxers.

"There. Is that better, sweetheart?" Spencer teased, but the words went completely unheard as she gawked at him.

Y/N kneeled between his spread legs, her hands planted firmly on his thighs as she took in the sight of him. He lay before her like something straight out of her most vivid dreams, more stunning than she’d ever imagined. He was effortlessly handsome—his hair tousled, lips slightly swollen from their kisses, and freckles and scars scattered across his shoulders and chest like a map of his past. His muscles were lean and toned, and the sparse hair trailing down beneath his belly button was far more enticing than it should've been. His cock was as pretty as he was, the flushed head of his more than impressive arousal matching the pink of his cheeks.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

"C'mere. I'm supposed to be taking care of you," Spencer grinned, motioning for Y/N to crawl back over him.

Instead of letting her settle with her thighs around his hips like she had previously been, he tugged insistently, her brows furrowing in confusion as she wobbled above him.

"Spencer, what—"

"Get up here," Spencer crooned, finally managing to maneuver her forward so her pussy hovered over his mouth. "And sit down."

Y/N's jaw dropped, her hands flying out to catch herself as she gripped the headboard. She was taken aback, utterly speechless. Here she was, being manhandled by Spencer Reid. The same quiet, awkward genius who rambled endlessly about statistics and couldn’t sit still for more than a minute was man-handling her and demanding she sit on his face. Was she dreaming?

"Are you— are you sure?" Y/N squeaked, staring down at him with wide eyes. "You really don't have to—"

Spencer turned his head so he could pepper open-mouthed kisses up and down her inner thigh, coaxing a soft moan from her as his warm breath fanned across her soaked folds.

"Stop all that worrying, pretty girl. I told you I'd take care of you—let me keep my word."

Before she could protest, Spencer gripped her hips, pulling her down at the same time he tilted his head up to lap his tongue over her core. Any hesitation Y/N had left evaporated from her body as a guttural moan ripped its way from her throat, her eyes fluttering shut as Spencer dragged his tongue over her clit. His movements were languid but hungry as he reveled in the taste of her, relishing her essence as though it was the very thing he needed to fuel his existence.

The air was filled with a mixture of moans and the slick sound of Spencer's mouth working between her legs, only amplifying the intense pleasure swimming through her body. Once Spencer was sure Y/N would stay put, he let one of his hands fall away from her hips, tracing it down his body until it wrapped around his cock. The breathy sounds she was letting out had him painfully hard, his thumb spreading the bead of precum spilling from the tip down the length of him as he began to pump himself.

"Oh, fuck—" Y/N whined as she forced her eyes open, turning to look over her shoulder at the sound of Spencer touching himself. The sight had her thighs trembling, a low groan rumbling in her throat as she turned her gaze down to look at him underneath her.

His eyes were squeezed shut, his brows pinched together in pleasure as his hand began to move faster. It was downright sinful. She'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Spencer alternated between fucking his tongue into her and sucking gently at her clit, the combination hurtling her toward her orgasm at a speed she never thought was possible. Y/N's hips rocked against his face, frantic whimpers slipping from her lips as her face began to scrunch in pleasure. The needy moans he was letting out against her skin pushed her over the edge as a sharp gasp broke free into the air, followed by a loud cry as her hands dropped from the headboard to tangle into his hair while she came.

Spencer whimpered as he let go of himself, instead using his hands to anchor her down while he gently worked her through her climax. He pressed a small kiss to her clit before she squirmed away, falling onto the bed beside him as her chest heaved. A look of adoration lingered on his face as he stroked her side and hair, pressing his lips to her forehead while she caught her breath.

Y/N flashed a small grin, rolling her eyes at his proud expression. A comforting heaviness settled in her limbs, pulling her deeper into the bed as she released a soft sigh. It took her a few moments to push herself up on her elbow, shifting to face him instead of lying flat on her back.

"How am I ever supposed to get anything done again now that I know you can do that?" Y/N murmured with a hint of exasperation, tilting her head to nuzzle her nose against his.

Spencer’s breath hitched as she draped her leg across his waist, hissing quietly as the head of his cock brushed against her warmth. He hummed, feigning thought before shrugging with a playful grin. "Could be a reward for a job well done," he teased, brushing a lingering kiss across her lips as his hand rubbed up and down her thigh.

"Yeah?" Y/N's hips began to slowly rock back and forth, the friction from his cock pressing between her folds making her head spin. "Well, can I reward you for a job well done then?"

Spencer's fingers flexed against her thigh, a low noise escaping him as he fought to keep his eyes on hers.

It made sense to him now why sailors would plummet into icy waters at the sound of a siren's call. If that call was anything as alluring as the sound of her voice, he'd happily do the same. She could demand the most heinous things of him right now and he'd do them simply because she asked.

But tonight was about her.

So instead of caving and begging for her touch, he shook his head, his lips quirking up at the pout forming on her lips. "As much as I would love to take you up on that offer, I'm supposed to be taking care of you, sweetheart. Not the other way around."

"Okay... so then take care of me by fucking me. Please?"

Spencer's resolve broke at her words. How could he possibly deny her? He'd be an absolute fool not to give her whatever her heart wished for.

His lips met hers in a fervent kiss as he moved to hover over her once more. Two of his fingers found her soaked pussy and sank inside of her with little resistance, a smug grin finding its way to his face as she gasped loudly into his mouth. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips along her jaw before he whispered into her ear.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

Y/N bucked her hips up into his touch, writhing underneath him as she nodded frantically. There wasn't a thing in this world that she wanted more. "Yes, Spence, please. Please fuck me. I need it—"

Spencer groaned, latching his lips onto the side of her neck as he inhaled sharply through his nose before he sat back on his heels. His fingers slipped out of her, her eyes widening as he brought the digits to his mouth and sucked them clean with a satisfied hum.

"Flip over."

Y/N followed his command without hesitation, the rush of anticipation making her feel almost detached, as though she were on autopilot, waiting to see what he would do next. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder before he reached for a pillow, tucking it underneath her hips to prop her up. A low whine emitted from her chest as she felt the flushed head of his arousal bump against her entrance, her hips canting back in an attempt to get him to push forward as he leaned forward, his chest brushing her back as he planted his hands into the mattress beside her.

"Do you want it like this, sweetheart? No condom? Because I can go find one..." Spencer murmured into her ear, his breathing labored as he teased her opening.

"Please— Wanna feel you, Spence," She whined into the pillow, arching her hips into his touch, though he remained just out of reach.

Spencer's eyes squeezed shut as a pang of arousal shot through him, taking a shuddering breath to mentally prepare himself not to blow his load before he even fucked her. With a kiss to the back of her head, Spencer began to press forward, easing into her inch by inch.

Y/N's mouth gaped open against the pillow she'd tugged underneath her head in a silent moan, the sensation of him finally filling her more intense than she'd expected. Her fingers gripped the sheets as he bottomed out, a pitiful whimper slipping free as she wiggled her hips in an attempt to adjust to the feeling. Her walls clenched around him instinctively as she adjusted, causing a broken moan to fall from his lips as his head rested against her shoulder, his breath puffing across her skin in warm bursts.

His right arm kept him braced above her while his left arm made its way under her chest, pulling her close as his hand began to grope at her breasts. His fingertips pinched one of her nipples, reveling in the soft moan she let out. "Are you ready for me to move, pretty girl?" He breathed, peppering kisses along the side of her face as he waited for her to relax.

At her nod, Spencer began to move, his thrusts slow but powerful as he repeatedly drove into her. He shifted up onto his knees, pulling her hips back into his languid thrusts as she moaned beneath him. The angle allowed him to brush her G-spot with every stroke, causing her toes to curl with each pang of pleasure that wracked her body. His hands squeezed the flesh of her ass, a low whine bubbling in his throat as he took in the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her.

It was downright erotic, the sight of her arousal coating the wiry curls at the base of him driving him insane. She was so fucking wet for him. The knowledge that he was making her feel this good made his head spin. He couldn't keep it to himself anymore. He needed to show her how deeply this was affecting him, to make her understand the intensity of the way she made him feel.

Everyone knew Spencer liked to run his mouth. It wasn't a surprise that this remained true during sex. What surprised Y/N, however, was how absolutely filthy of a mouth the man had. Spencer, the same Spencer who had barely uttered a curse in all the years she'd known him, was now stringing together words that would make even the most foul-mouthed person blush.

His pace increased with each word he murmured, small "ah, ah, ah's" spilling from her lips as he began to really pound into her.

"Does that feel good? Huh? Finally being taken care of the way you deserve?"

"Fuck— look at you, baby. Taking my cock so well. Do you like that? You like feeling me stretch you open?"

"Such a perfect pussy, sweetheart. So fucking good for me. So tight. My beautiful girl."

Every vulgar word he breathed into the space between them had her mind reeling, her body teetering on the edge of release as her walls fluttered around him. Desperate moans began to spill from her as she took everything he had to offer, her teeth digging into her lower lip to try to stifle the noises in an attempt not to wake everyone on that floor of the hotel. Spencer's gaze was locked on the way her ass rippled with each thrust, a look of pure ecstasy on his face as his brows pinched together and his mouth hung open.

"S-Spence— I'm so close—" Y/N whimpered, burying her face into the pillow beneath her as she moaned helplessly.

He dragged one of his hands away from where it was squeezing her hip, shoving it between her hips and the pillow propping her up as he began to stroke her clit in time with his thrusts. "Let go, sweet girl. Cum around my cock. Show me how good I make you feel."

She cried out at that, thrashing underneath him as the tension coiling in her lower belly finally snapped. Spencer's hips stuttered, a guttural moan wrenching its way from his throat as she squeezed around him, her legs trembling as one of the most powerful orgasms she'd ever experienced washed over her in waves.

"God— fuck, I'm about to cum," Spencer grunted, his eyes squeezing shut briefly as he swallowed hard, his chest heaving with exertion as he fucked her through it. "Where do you want it, pretty girl?"

"Wanna taste you... Spence, please—" Y/N slurred beneath him, weakly pushing up on her elbows to turn and look at him over her shoulder. Her bottom lip was swollen and lightly bruised from how hard she'd been biting at it, and her eyes were watery with unshed tears as the pleasure began to overwhelm her.

The sight of her looking so ruined almost had him spilling inside of her, and with a muffled curse he pulled out of her, fisting his cock as she rolled onto her back and stuck her tongue out patiently. He shuffled up her body, bracing himself with one hand against the headboard as he gazed down at her reverently. The amusement he felt from the brief feeling of deja vu from having her in a similar position earlier that night was short-lived as his head tipped back, a strained whimper filling the air as her tongue brushed against the head of his cock.

It only took a few pumps for him to cum, his eyes rolling back into his head when she sat up to take him further into her mouth as rope after rope of his essence flooded her throat. Y/N sucked gently, working him through his orgasm until his hips were jerking and he was whining, pulling off of his softening cock with a slick 'pop'. He crumpled onto the bed next to her, his heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage as he struggled to catch his breath.

Spencer wrapped her tightly in his arms, his lips brushing against the top of her head with soft, repeated kisses. Between each tender touch, he murmured how incredible she made him feel, how he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to share this life with her, let alone love her the way he did. Y/N whispered back, her voice soft but full of conviction, telling him how deeply she cherished him and how every part of her was filled with love for him.

Her fingers idly traced patterns across the flushed skin of his chest until he caught her hand, pressing tender kisses to her knuckles before quietly slipping out of bed. She groaned petulantly as he pulled her to her feet, ushering her towards the bathroom with a pat to her butt and a mumbled but passionate lecture on the timeframe after sex in which she needed to pee to avoid getting a UTI. Even though she knew he was right, she still rolled her eyes as she trudged into the bathroom. She decided to brush her teeth while she was there as well, giggling to herself at the thought of kissing Spencer with the taste of him still in her mouth.

When she stepped out, Spencer had changed the sheets and set a bottle of water on the nightstand, flashing a drowsy grin as she slipped into bed next to him and turned the lamp out. "What's all this about?" she teased, her smile breaking into a yawn.

"I'm taking care of you, just like I said I would."

It didn’t take long for exhaustion to settle in, both of them murmuring good nights between soft kisses. As they drifted off together, Y/N felt certain he would be taking care of her for the rest of his life—and she was just as sure that she would do the same for him.

Continued A/N's: Happy (late) start to December!! I really hope you guys enjoy this :') I plan on doing a little something (maybe, possibly ;) ) for Christmas, so stay tuned for updates on what that little something may be. Also, a loving reminder that my requests are open! :) <3 K

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[sugarypinecones]

a panic challenge is busted and having to avoid the cops with dodge… sneaking you into his bedroom while his mom and sister sleep… giving you a rodeo t-shirt to sleep in… maybe making the first move straight away… or maybe going to bed and then waking up a few hours later tangled together in his bed…

we were jet-set, bonnie and clyde — dodge mason x reader

warnings: SMUT(?) he never actually gets close enough but he gets.. pretty close, like cum in your pants close oops but i can do a pt2 i just kinda got confused and unsure how to really.. like do things idk and i kinda hate it but it took so much time and writing i feel bad if i scrapt it, mentions of reader living in texas obviously, reader has no real desire to win panic, whiny desperate dodge, idrk how to tag its late im tired, dayna interrupts without knowing

a/n: oh i love this actually. like actually love this. like im foaming at the mouth thinking about this actually. title from getaway car by taylor swift also, love u all and ty for the request!! 💐💐 also sucks esp the ending but like idk im down to rewrite the ending if not continue the tangled thing! just lmk if you actually wanted it and dont be afraid to leave other requests.

Living in Carp, Texas meant that there weren’t many fun things to do. You can only drive around an empty parking lot for so long before getting bored. So when the opportunity of playing Panic rises, you rise with it.

And surprisingly, you didn’t immediately get eliminated. In fact — you’ve somehow made it this far, round two, which.. you’re sure you’re going to fall to your death or just entirely not do it. And you were fine with that, truly. You had your fun.

Now it was time to focus on something a little bit more real – your chances of winning the pot were low, especially because of all that stuff last year, and because of Dodge Mason.

If you didn’t know what determination was before that boy, you definitely did now. It was hard not to see him and not see determination, especially after the first challenge. He didn’t have fear in his eyes when he did it, unlike any of the other contestants. He had something else.

You shift on the hood of the beat-up car, sighing as you look over your shoulder for any sign of your friends. It was hard to tell through the sea of people — some juniors who were eager to see the game, some graduates who refused to play, such and such.

Dodge’s eyes roamed over to you, taking in the way you fiddled with the bracelets on your wrists and the tight, nervous expression on your face. He knew what you were thinking — he could see it in your eyes. I don’t belong here.

He watched you look around for your friends and found himself wondering why you were alone. Why weren’t you with them?

He seems to recognize you from the first challenge, and when you meet his gaze, he raises a hand. A small smile follows, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling in return.

Something sparked in Dodge’s chest as your lips curled into a small smile — he hadn’t expected a smile in return. Nor had he expected your eyes to soften at the sight of him, or your cheeks to flush a pretty shade of pink.

Maybe he had more of a chance with you than he thought.

The sight of you smiling in return gives him just enough confidence to walk over, stopping in-front of you. It was slightly unnerving, but it felt nice. Exhilarating, even.

He smirked to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to you — and just like that, his bravado returned.

“So,” he started, turning his head to the side to look down at you as he leaned against the car. “Here to root for me?”

Your gaze tilts to him, and you almost laughed. “No, I’m here to win.”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your response, a scoff and chuckle of disbelief slipping between his lips. He turned around, leaning his hip against the hood of the car, the smirk never wavering from his face.

“Oh, really?” He said, cocking his head to the side. “You honestly think you stand a chance against me?”

He wasn’t sure where all this confidence was coming from - because if it were anyone else, he would’ve just been nodding along with simple responses by now.

You grin. “I know so.”

He let out a hearty laugh and shook his head.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, although, you really aren’t. You planned to chicken out the second you got called on that death-trap of a beam, no way in hell are you risking your life just to possibly lose in the end.

“Yeah,” he begun, but you shook your head; letting laughs fall from your lips. “No, not really.” You grin up at him, and he acts surprised; but he kind of had a feeling from the start you wouldn’t actually go through with any of this.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re backing out just like that?”

Your eyes catch on the flex of his muscles as his arms fold over his chest, before flickering back up to his face with a shrug. “I guess—“

You’re cut off by the sound of sirens approaching, closing your eyes as you let out a frustrated exhale. Playing panic was dangerous — watching it, even.

Dodge’s expression quickly turned serious as the sound of sirens filled the air. He immediately turned his head towards the noise, his muscles tense and eyes narrowing.

He quickly looked back over at you, silently cursing how distracted he had become from your presence. He should have been on guard — his focus needed to be on the task at hand, not on some cute girl.

“Cops,” he said lowly, looking back at the police cars approaching.

“Obviously,” you retort, sliding of the hood as you glance over your shoulder. There wasn’t really much places to scatter to, but –

Your train of thought is cut off by his hand on your wrist, pulling you along towards a patch of woods.

Dodge moved fast, tugging on your wrist and pulling you away from the car. He quickly led you towards a patch of woods nearby, trying to put as much distance between you and the cops before they got out of their cars.

He kept his grip on your hand as you ran, his fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist. They were rough — calloused from working on the farm and years of horseback riding.

As they made it into the safety of the trees, Dodge pulled you behind a large oak, pinning you against the trunk.

He quickly retracted, internally cursing himself for doing such. “Sorry, instinct,” he grumbles, although not angry towards you, god, not you.

“You lead a lot of girls away from cops?” You quip, fighting the urge to laugh to yourself.

Dodge let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, his heart thudding loudly in his chest.

He’d somehow managed to pull you almost 500 yards within that span of three minutes.

“Yeah, all the time,” he replied sarcastically, his smirk returning as he leaned his shoulder against the tree next to you. “You’re the twenty-third one I’ve led this month alone.”

You roll your eyes, “How charming.”

Dodge chuckled at your eye roll, leaning closer to you and looking down at you. His smirk widened as he pushed himself off of the tree, turning to face you fully.

“Yeah, I’m a real charmer,” he joked, crossing his arms over his chest once more. He paused then, noticing how close he was to you.

He cleared his throat before speaking again, pulling away, partially in fear of scaring you, partially in fear he couldn’t stop himself from asking to kiss you. “So, uh… you got a ride home or something?”

Fuck. No you did not. You hadn’t actually accounted that part down — you came with your friend, who is currently nowhere to be found, if not currently in the back of a cop car.

“No.” You huffed, narrowing your gaze as you looked at him, “I was gonna crash at Natalie’s,” You said, trying to explain your situation, which wasn’t hard to understand to begin with. Came with a friend, planned to leave with a friend, currently 500 yards away from said friend’s car, can’t exactly account to go home, as you told her you were going to bed three hours ago.

Dodge’s eyebrows furrowed at your answer — not out of annoyance, but concern. He knew the cops would be searching everywhere, and you didn’t have a ride home.

He thought for a moment, weighing his options. He couldn’t leave you out here alone until the police left. It was too dangerous.

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair again before speaking. “Alright,” he said, looking down at you. “You’re comin’ home with me, then.”

Your eyes widen, and you seem to swallow as you tilt your head forwards, perplexed. “What?”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your reaction, his expression shifting to confusion. He was surprised that you seemed so shocked by his offer.

Although, he got it. You didn’t know him well — not outside of school at least. You had seem him a few times, sat by him in a few classes. Thought he was cute, too, but never would’ve admitted that.

“You need a place to stay for the night,” he explained, his eyes locked on yours. “And you sure as hell can’t stay here.”

He paused, eyeing you up and down before continuing. “So you’ll stay at my house. It’s not a big deal.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but quickly snapped it shut, knowing he was right. Spending the night in the woods with the cops searching was a recipe for disaster.

Going home would be even worse.

And yet… spending the night at his house still stirred something within you — anxiety, excitement, curiosity — you couldn’t tell.

“Okay,” You nod, eyes darting around. “Yeah.” You exhale, it was for the better. You weren’t gonna sleep on the side of the road, and you knew Dodge.. to an extent, enough to know he’s not gonna pull an axe on you in your sleep.

Dodge’s face morphed into a sly grin as you agreed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew he was probably going to regret this later — he’d never brought a girl to his house before, let alone a girl his mother didn’t approve of.

“Atta girl,” he said, lightly patting your shoulder before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go.”

Dodge stepped away from the protective cover of the trees, gesturing for you to follow him. The coast was clear for now, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

As you fell in step with him, he leaned down to your ear. “Just so you know,” he began in a low voice. “My mom doesn’t know you’re coming over. So.. don’t talk too loud when we get to the house, alright?”

You cock your head to the side, a slight laugh escaping under your breath. “Doesn’t know or isn’t okay?”

Dodge chuckled, shaking his head as he continued walking. “Both,” he answered, his hands still shoved in his pockets.

“She wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to have some girl she’s never met before spend the night out of nowhere.”

You nod, wondering why he’d offer in the first place then. He could’ve left you to get in trouble with your mom, left you to get eliminated, anything else.

“Is that your car?” You tilt your head forwards, breaking the silence that fell over the two teens, eyeing a white car.

Dodge followed your gaze, looking at the car you were eyeing. He nodded, a proud smile forming on his lips. “Yeah,” he said, a hint of boasting in his voice. “That’s her.”

You find it slightly funny that he’s gendered his car.

He quickly started towards the car, reaching it within a few long strides. He pulled the passenger side door open, motioning for you to get in. “C’mon.”

You almost hesitate — but, it’s not like you have another choice — or enough self control.

You hesitated for a moment, looking at the open door before climbing inside. You settled into the leather seat, shutting the door behind you, your stomach twisting with nervousness.

Dodge walked around to the driver’s side and got in, settling into the seat and buckling his seatbelt. He twisted the key in the ignition, the engine of the car coming to life with a low, rumbling purr.

He pulled out of the field and onto the road, navigating the deserted streets skillfully. You sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the low hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

Dodge glanced over at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing how tense and quiet you seemed. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I guess it’s just..” You trailed off, unsure of how to actually describe the feeling.

It wasn’t scary, but it was. You were almost excited, but you didn’t know him well. Any knowledgeable person would be wary, but god, was Dodge Mason cute.

“I don’t know.”

Dodge chuckled, a sympathetic scoff falling from his lips at your failed attempt at putting your feelings into words.

He could tell you were conflicted about all of this — going home with a guy you barely knew, spending the night in a home you’ve never been to before… he didn’t blame you.

He sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Yeah, I’m sure this isn’t how you planned to spend your night, huh?”

You scoff. “Who doesn’t plan to go home with a boy they barely know after cops raid them?”

He shook his head with a grin and looked over at you again, his eyes scanning over your features. Despite the absurdity of the situation, he couldn’t help the fluttery feeling in his chest as he looked at you.

You stayed silent for a moment, your eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside the car window. The night was still and quiet, only the hum of the engine breaking the silence.

“Dodge?” You spoke up suddenly, your voice soft.

Dodge’s attention immediately went to you, his eyes flickering over to glance at you. “Yeah?” He responded, his tone just as quiet as yours.

You shifted in your seat, turning to face him. “Can I ask you something?” you inquired, your expression slightly serious.

Dodge raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued by the sudden shift in your demeanor. “Shoot,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

You paused for a moment, collecting your thoughts before speaking. “Why did you offer to let me stay the night?”

The question had been weighing on your mind since the moment he suggested it. You knew he wasn’t exactly the most responsible or trustworthy person, yet he’d gone out of his way to offer you refuge at his home.

Dodge’s grip tightened around the steering wheel as you asked the question. He expected it, knowing it was bound to come up eventually, but he wasn’t exactly prepared to answer it fully.

The truth was simple — he found you attractive, intriguing, and he was drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain. But he wasn’t going to say that out loud, not yet.

Instead, he shrugged nonchalantally. “Seemed like you needed a place to stay,” he responded, keeping his tone casual.

Your eyebrows furrowed, sensing the hint of evasion in his answer. You knew there was more to it than that, but you also knew it wasn’t your place to push him for the truth — especially given your options in the current moment.

You let out a sigh, leaning back in your seat and looking out the window again. The rest of the ride passed in silence, only broken by the sound of the engine and the occasional rumble of the road beneath the tires.

After a few minutes, Dodge finally pulled into a long gravel driveway, leading up to a house. The house was modest, but well-kept. Even in the dim light, you could make out the meticulously maintained garden and the freshly painted exterior.

He shifted the car into park and killed the engine, turning to look at you. “We’re here.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and looked out the windshield, taking in the sight of the house. It was cozy, but not overly extravagant. It looked lived in — a home owned by a family who actually spent time here.

You let out a shaky breath, nerves starting to bubble up inside you once more. This was really happening. You were really going in there.

It wasn’t like regular nerves you’d had before. Not like panic, more like when you’re hanging out with a friend you’ve met for the first time — although, you technically know Dodge.

Dodge could sense the anxiety radiating from you, your nervousness evident in the way you fidgeted in your seat. He let out a low sigh, his eyes flickering over your features for a moment before speaking.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he reassured you, his voice soft. “My mom and sister are probably already asleep, so just stay quiet.”

You nodded, smiling. “Well, let’s go then. I’m tired.”

Dodge returned your smile with a nod of his own, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned his attention to unbuckling his seatbelt.

He pushed the driver’s side door open, the soft creak of the metal mixing with the sound of the crickets chirping in the night air. He got out of the car and shut the door, rounding the hood and opening your door for you.

You stepped out of the car, your shoes crunching on the gravel beneath them. You followed Dodge as he led the way to the front door, your eyes darting around nervously, taking in the surroundings.

He paused in front of the door and fumbled through his pockets, searching for his keys. After a moment, he fished them out and unlocked the door, pushing it open quietly.

He wasn’t exactly worried about making noise - his mom usually didn’t pay mind to him coming late. She figured he’d be home way later in any other circumstances, anyways.

As Dodge opened the door, a warm, inviting light spilled out from inside the house. You followed him inside, stepping into the entranceway and closing the door softly behind you.

The interior of the house was cozy and homey, with warm wood accents and comfortable furnishings. There was a sense of order and cleanliness, but it didn’t feel overly stiff or overly lived-in.

Dodge gestured for you to keep your shoes on, before nodding towards a hallway. “My room’s down there,” he whispered, indicating the direction of a long hallway to the left of the entryway.

You followed his gaze, looking down the hallway. You could see several doors lining the sides of the hallway, presumably leading to different rooms — bathrooms, bedrooms, and the like.

You looked back at Dodge, your heart rate increasing as you realized the implication of his words. His room. Where he sleeps. Where you’ll be sleeping, in close proximity to him.

Dodge noticed the look on your face, noticing the way your eyes widened slightly, betraying your thoughts. He chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension.

“Relax,” he whispered, his tone playful. “You’ll be fine. My room’s big enough for the both of us.”

You roll your eyes, “OK, cowboy.” You step into the open door, taking in the dimly-lit room. It wasn’t much. Just trophies, a wardrobe and a bed and small clutter around the room.

You liked it. You could get used to it.

Dodge chuckled at your nickname, following you into the room and shutting the door behind him. The atmosphere grew more intimate as you both entered the enclosed space, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the scent of his laundry detergent.

He leaned against the wall, watching you look around with a slight smirk on his lips. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the bed.

You don’t take any convincing, and immediately flop down onto the bed, exhaling at the feel of the differing comfort in comparison to his car and old truck.

Dodge let out another chuckle as you flopped onto the bed, his eyes watching you sprawled out on his sheets. the sight amused him - you looked like a starfish on the soft material of the mattress.

He pushed away from the wall and walked across the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Comfy?” He teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah,” you hummed, a soft grin adorning your face. “although,” you sit up, glancing to him, “wish I would’ve known i’d be having a sleepover. All my stuff is in Nat’s car.”

Dodge chuckled, his eyes scanning over you as you sat up next to him. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan for this either,” he retorted, a smirk still playing on his lips.

He thought for a moment, his gaze flicking towards the door and then back to you. “You can borrow something to sleep in, if you want.”

You nod vicariously, laughing. “I am not sleeping in this.”

Dodge chuckled, leaning back on his arms as he looked you up and down. He took in your outfit, noting how out of place it seemed in this setting.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly sleepwear,” he agreed, amusement in his voice. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over your body before he spoke again. “I got some old T-shirts you can borrow.”

He stood up, walking over to the closet, before tossing a shirt your way. It was larger, but you could tell that it was his. It smelt faintly like him, and you can make the outlines out of a cracked pattern from an old rodeo.

You smiled up at him, appreciatively. “Thanks,” you said, placing the clothes down beside you. “Do you mind if I change here?”

Being caught by his sister or mom wasn’t exactly a want for you right now.

“Nope, go ahead,” he replied, leaning against the wall lazily. “I won’t look.”

You nodded, watching as his gaze shifts towards the closet, adjusting clothes.

You waste no time peeling the clothes off of you, pulling the T-shirt over your body as you exhale, and then pulling the old sweatpants over your body, tying them as tight as you could around your waist.

“Okay.” You said.

He quickly shook the thoughts away, clearing his throat. “You decent?” He asked, looking over at you.

“Yep.” You nod, shifting back on the bed some, “Oh,” you glance away, “you can change too, sorry.”

Dodge chuckled at your realization, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to you again.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you, reaching down and grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping in this, anyways.”

He pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it onto the floor, revealing his bare chest.

He knows how badly this could’ve ended - but, he was already here, and honestly the lack of sleep was beginning to make him more bold than he’d like to admit.

Your eyebrows raise, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you met his gaze.

Dodge noticed your reaction, his smirk widening as he caught your laugh. He chuckled in response, his eyes locked on yours.

“What?” He asked, his voice playful. “Never seen a guy shirtless before?”

You shake your head, blinking back shock. “I have,” you note, trying to pretend as if your eyes weren’t raking over his body.

“Just.. wasn’t expecting this.”

Her close proximity was intoxicating, the scent of her perfume filling his senses and clouding his thoughts.

He leaned in slightly, his face inches away from yours. His gaze flicked from your eyes to lips, the desire to kiss you overwhelming any logical thoughts in his mind.

"Tell me," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tell me you want this. Tell me to, and I will. But I need to hear you say it."

He leaned in further, his lips hovering just above yours, the gap between them practically non-existent.

"I want this," you admitted, barely audible.

Without another word, he closed the minimal gap between them, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

His hands moved from your cheek to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him.

But it wasn't just about physical need, you could sense. There was a sense of desperation in the way he held you, as if this moment was more than just a passing lust.

As the kiss deepened, Dodge backed you up against the bed, gently maneuvering you until you were trapped between him and the mattress.

His hands moved under your shirt, tracing a path up your bare skin, causing you to shiver against him.

Dodge trailed hot kisses down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake. His hands roamed over your body, worshiping every inch of your bare skin.

His mouth returned to yours, claiming your lips in a passionate embrace. He rolled his hips against you, eliciting a gasp from your lips as the friction between your bodies intensified.

With a smooth movement, he pulled away from your lips and moved to your jawline, nipping and nibbling at the sensitive skin there.

“You have no idea,” he rasped, his voice low and ragged with desire, “how long I've wanted to do this.”

His hands moved from your hips to your thighs, gripping the flesh hard as he shifted between your legs.

Dodge took a few moments to admire the sight of you beneath him, your face flushed and lips swollen from his kisses. He couldn't get enough of you, the way you tasted, the way you felt beneath him.

He leaned down to capture your lips again, his hands roaming further up your thighs. His fingers toyed with the waistband of the sweatpants, the thought of going further crossing his mind.

Dodge broke the kiss, panting slightly as he looked down at you again.

“God,” he rasped, his gaze roaming over your flushed face and disheveled hair. “You’re so damn beautiful like this.”

He leaned back down, his breath hot against your ear. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “All of you. Right here. Right now.”

His lips moved to your neck, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone as his hands continued to wander over your body. His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of the sweatpants, tracing patterns against your skin.

“Okay,” You nod, “okay,” you repeat softer.

Dodge's breath hitches at your agreement, his fingers stilling. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and relief.

"Yeah?" He asks, his voice slightly shaky. "You're sure?"

You nod, “I’m sure.”

Dodge's response is immediate, his mouth crashing back down onto yours in a passionate kiss. His hands move faster now, pushing down the sweatpants and discarding them onto the floor.

He positions himself back between your legs, his body pressing against yours as he kisses you hungrily. One of his thighs slides against you, causing you to gasp into the kiss.

Dodge takes advantage of your moment of surprise, his tongue slipping past your lips to explore your mouth. His hands roam over your bare thighs and hips, gripping the flesh tightly as he continues to move against you.

You can feel his hardness pressing against you, the evidence of his desire evident and urgent. He pulls away from the kiss, panting slightly, and looks down at you.

“God,” he mutters, his voice ragged and hoarse. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

He shifts his hips, pressing against you more purposefully. The friction between your bodies causes him to let out a guttural groan, his head dropping down to bury in your neck.

He peppers your neck with kisses, his lips and teeth leaving behind a trail of marks and bites. He continues to rock his hips against you, the friction growing more and more intense as the seconds pass.

His hands roam over your body, mapping out every dip and curve with fervor. He's almost feverish in his touch, his need for you overwhelming his rational thoughts.

"I need," he gasps, his breath warm against your skin, "I need..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, instead moving to capture your lips in another bruising kiss. His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly as he increases the pace of his movements. The friction between your bodies is enough to send waves of pleasure through you, the feeling consuming your senses.

Dodge breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to see your face. He takes in the sight of you, hair mussed, eyes glazed over with desire, cheeks flushed with color.

He looks wrecked himself, his breathing labored and his body taut with tension. Every muscle in his body is pulled taught, as if he's holding back from completely letting go.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. He's on the edge, you can tell. But he's still holding back, still trying to control himself.

"I want... I need..." he pants, his words coming out in shuddering gasps. "I need to hear you say it. Tell me I can... tell me you want..."

He trails off, unable to finish his sentence. He's desperate, his need for you almost palpable in the air.

He know’s he’s gotten your permission beforehand, but he needs to be sure.

“Please.” You whine.

Dodge exhales a ragged breath at your response, the sound almost a moan. He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, his body trembling with need.

"Thank god," he gasps, his voice cracking slightly. "Thank god."

He captures your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth hungrily. His hands move from your hips to your thighs, spreading your legs further apart as he positions himself against you.

The friction between your bodies is maddening now, the pleasure building with every movement. Dodge bucks his hips against you, causing you both to moan into the kiss.

He breaks the kiss again, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You feel so good," he whispers against your skin, his words sending shivers through your body. "So perfect, so goddamn perfect."

His hands roam over your body, touching and caressing every inch of exposed flesh. He's everywhere at once, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that spread through your body like wildfire.

You almost whine out at the lack of contact to your body as his hands travel to his belt.

Dodge's hands fumble with his jeans, the frantic motion a clear indicator of how desperately he needs you. He pushes the material down, kicking them off the edge of the bed with a hasty movement.

He's bare now, his body exposed and vulnerable in a way he rarely lets himself be. He positions himself back between your legs, bracing himself above you.

He pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of you beneath him. You're flushed and trembling, your eyes glassy with desire. You can see his gaze flickering over your body, taking in every detail, every curve.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands grip your hips again, holding you in place as he rolls his own into you.

The friction between your bodies is enough to drive you both insane. Dodge lets out a guttural moan into the kiss, his grip on your hips tight enough to bruise.

He swears he could come at the sight of this alone, and he honestly might.

A rapid knock to his door stirs him out of his frenzy.

Dodge grunts in surprise, pulled out of his passionate haze by the interruption. He looks up at you, his eyes still dark with desire but confused by the sudden intrusion.

"What?" he asks, his voice slightly hoarse as he called out to his sister in the hallway. "What's wrong?"

“I can’t reach the cereal above the fridge.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing as he pulled your — his, sweatpants over his body.

He raises a finger, as if telling you to wait, and you nod, but you were asleep by the time he finished helping Dana.

[lowkeyrobin]

hi pookie can I get an mcyt with reader that bakes?? Like they'll just come in on stream and give mcyts a fucking platter of baked goods lol

-🎀 anon

oooo yes omg!! thank you 🎀 anon! <3 got the whole gang in here for this one LOL

MCYT ; "in my baker era"

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, foolish gamers, slimecicle, & cellbit

warnings ; language, mentions of drugs

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

"Hi y/n- oh, thank you, darling!'

literally has the widest smile on his face

shows off the goods to the stream

"do these have any drugs in them? me n charlie are trying to sell drugs, y/n. we need more stock"

you hear charlie screaming through tommys headphones, "we need the grain, y/n! we need THE GRAIN"

bro is munching away on those cookies holy shit

he feeds chat as well dw

RANBOO

"Hey babe! Oh, thank you!"

does a whole 360 of the plate for chat 💀💀💀💀

"Oh my God, these are so fucking good"

"guys, y/ns in their baking era. can you write an album about that? please become Taylor swift for us"

"BAHHAHAHAH"

literally takes a picture as per usual and posts it to Twitter LMAO

he gets some fans to send you recipes you should try for a serious baking stream LMAO

BADLINU

"Hey love- oh, hi!"

all smiles and shit, he swears you have a sixth sense to know when people are hungry

"guys, y/n made me some bisexuality cake!" He giggles, showing off the tri-colored cake on the plate

he was making a video with harry, tubbo & tommy so everyone had their facecams on

it was like a three tier cake you made and cut out a slice for him

the inside was just the bi flag and the outside was plain white with some fun icing piper testing

he tries it and it's SO MOIST AND SOFT IT IS PERFECT.

there's just 5 raw minutes of him telling you how amazing this fucking cake is LMAO

QUACKITY

"Hey, I'm streaming ba- ohmyfuckinggodthankyou!!"

does a 360 of the plate for the camera

"Holy shit these look so fucking good, thank you so much, y/n"

he's literally just streaming on the qsmp with roeir and fit and he like games and eats the damn cookies at the same time LMFAO

"Dude I feel like I'm high, these are so good, what's in this shit?"

"cocaine"

"WHAT!? DID YOU JUST DRUG ME? GUYS, MY PARTNER DRUGGED ME, HELP"

you're just playing into the bit dw

best red velvet cookies he's ever eaten

CELLBIT

"Hey darling, what's up?"

you hand him the little strawberry shortcake and he just looks at you like 😍😍

turns to his stream and shoves the plate up to the camera all happy like "Oh my God look what they made for me!"

he eats the entirety of it on stream and asks you a bunch of questions

like how you made it, where you found the recipe, etc

he shares it with you too 💔🫶

NIHACHU

"Hi honey! Ooo, what's this called?"

"Chocolate mousse. it's a little thick because it's my first time making it but let me know if it's good"

she holds that little glass like it's her child

she tries it with a tiny spoon you gave her and she's like "oh my God this is amazing, y/n/n"

shows it off to the friends she's streaming with too

"send them more recipes guys, I wanna be spoiled with sweets!"

"thank you nikis viewers!! love you all"

FOOLISH GAMERS

when I tell you this man's face LIGHTS UP.

"you made me fudge? oh my God! I love you"

literally spends the next 15 minutes talking to you and gobbling the fudge down

"since when do you make fudge??"

"since I wanted to try" you shrug

"you should totally make some more... when you're not busy and if you want to!"

"Thank you y/n! everyone say thank you!"

SLIMECICLE

"Oh, hi y/n! thank you so much"

does a 360 for stream

"when did you find time to make this? I thought you were at work????"

"special treat" you shrug

you watch him run across the qsmp and go to ems bakery to sit inside and eat it 😭

he keeps you on stream for a while cause chat loves you n stuff 🫶🫶

[jburrgf]

Friends; The Love Trope Series

You Belong With Me, Part. 1

◦pairing: ¡bestfriend! joe burrow x ¡bestfriend! reader

◦summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship. slow burn, soulmates.

◦description: you and joe are best friends since day one. both of you are on yours last year of high school. being part of the graduation committee means a lot to you, and you are all 100% with prom preparations. on the other side, joe is there, helping you like always. but now, things hit different when you realize he’s not just a high school sweetheart: joe burrow is the love of your whole life.

° playlist: Friends, Ed Sheeran From Eden, Hoozier 21, Gracie Abramns You Belong With Me, Taylor Swift I Couldn’t Be More In Love, The 1975

◦From the Love Trope Series. Part II / Part III / Part IV

THE PLAINS, OHIO — SPRING 2015

JOE BURROW.

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual hum of overlapping conversations, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a dropped tray. I leaned back in my chair, balancing it precariously on two legs as I half-listened to my teammates debating the best dunk from last night's school game. 

My attention, though, was elsewhere. It always was these days.

“Bro, you’re staring again.”

I turned, scowling at Sam, one of my teammates. He was grinning like he’d just caught me red-handed, which, to be fair, he had.

“I’m not staring,” I muttered, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

“Sure you’re not,” Sam said, dragging out the words. “Just like you weren’t staring yesterday when she was hanging up those prom posters.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to brush him off, but the heat creeping up my neck gave me away. He wasn’t wrong. I had been staring.

It wasn’t like I could help it. Y/N had been my best friend since we were five years old, but somewhere along the line, things changed. It was subtle at first—a skipped heartbeat here, a lingering glance there. By sophomore year, I’d gone from thinking she was cute in that “best friend” way to realizing I was completely, hopelessly in love with her.

And now? Now I was just the idiot who couldn’t tell her.

Y/N was sitting at the table near the windows, her head bent over a clipboard, her pen scribbling furiously. Her lips moved as she mouthed whatever notes she was jotting down, and her brows furrowed in that way they always did when she was focused. It was one of those little things about her that I couldn’t help but find endearing—like the way she’d unconsciously tap her pen against her cheek when she was thinking or how her voice would rise just a bit when she got excited about something. Watching her now, so completely absorbed, I couldn’t help but smile to myself, even if the ache in my chest reminded me why I kept these thoughts to myself. She had been like this for weeks—wrapped up in her role on the prom committee. She’d tell me about it every chance she got, her voice lighting up as she described color schemes, playlists, and centerpieces. It was cute, really, how excited she was.

But then there was him.

Brian Harris, the shooting guard from our basketball team, sauntered over to Y/N’s table. He was the type who thrived on attention, always quick with a joke or a flashy move to keep the spotlight on him. Brian and I didn’t exactly get along—Brian’s cocky demeanor had rubbed me the wrong way since freshman year, and our clashes during practice, when I used to play basketball, were almost legendary. I stiffened. He leaned on the edge of her table, his stupid, cocky grin plastered across his face as he said something that made her laugh. My stomach twisted at the sound.

He always wanted everything that I had, My talent, my position, my girl. And after I left basketball for good and he became captain, he’s on the run of the other things that he misses.

“Dude, you’re gonna snap that chair if you keep leaning back like that,” Josh, one of my friends, said, smirking.

“Shut up,” I muttered, letting the chair drop back onto all four legs with a thud.

“Oh, someone’s grumpy,” Sam teased, following my gaze. “Ah, I see. Miller’s making a move on Y/N, huh?”

“He’s not making a move,” I snapped, even though the words felt hollow. Of course he was making a move. The guy was a known flirt, and Y/N was...well, Y/N. Beautiful, smart, funny. She had this way of making everyone feel like they mattered, and apparently, Brian Harris wasn’t immune to her charm.

“Relax, man. She’s your best friend. It’s not like she’d go for him,” Josh said, but there was a knowing glint in his eye. “Unless...”

“Unless what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Unless you’re finally ready to admit you’re into her,” Sam said, grinning from a distance.

“I’m not—” I started, but the words died in my throat. What was the point? Josh wasn’t going to believe me, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I believed myself anymore.

Y/N 

Prom committee meetings were the highlight of my week lately. Sure, they were hectic, and half the time I felt like I was herding cats trying to get everyone to agree on something, but it was worth it. This was *our* prom, and I wanted it to be perfect.

Today, I was finalizing the seating chart when Brian Harris’s shadow fell over my table. I looked up, surprised to see him smiling down at me.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice smooth. “You’re working hard over here. Need a break?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not really. There’s too much to do.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning closer. “Even superheroes need a break.”

I laughed, though it felt more polite than genuine. The truth was, Brian’s attention did nothing on me. Sure, it was nice to be noticed, but his charm felt too practiced, too rehearsed. Deep down, I knew the only person whose approval I wanted was Joe’s. Brian was nice and all, but he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy I’d go out of my way to talk to. Still, it was flattering that he was paying attention to me. It wasn’t like I had guys lining up to flirt with me.

“Maybe later,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe watching us from across the cafeteria. His jaw was clenched, and he was gripping his water bottle so tightly I thought it might burst. I fought the urge to smile. Joe could be so obvious sometimes.

“Alright, but don’t work too hard,” Brian said, winking as he walked away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Joe appeared at my side, dropping into the seat across from me.

“What did Harris want?” he asked, his tone sharper than usual.

“Nothing,” I said, shrugging. “He was just being nice.”

“Nice? That guy doesn’t do nice, Y/N. He was hitting on you.” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” he said, his voice low. “He’s into you.”

I stared at him, trying to process his words. Was he… jealous?

“And what if he is?” I asked, testing the waters.

Joe’s expression darkened, and for a moment, I thought he was going to argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can do better than him,” he muttered, his fingers drumming against the table as his gaze shifted away, like he couldn’t bear to watch me react.

I opened my mouth to answer, but the words caught in my throat. How could I tell him the truth? That I didn’t care about Brian or any other guy because the only one I wanted was standing right in front of me?

Instead, I shrugged. “He’s nice.”

Joe’s expression darkened, and he took a step back. “Right. Well, I’ve got practice. See you later.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was it just my imagination, or did he sound...jealous? I bit my lip, unsure of how to respond. I’d been in love with Joe for as long as I could remember, but he’d never given me any reason to think he felt the same way. Still, moments like this made me wonder.

JOE BURROW.

I couldn’t focus during practice that afternoon. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Brian Harris leaning over Y/N’s table, making her laugh. It shouldn’t have bothered me so much. She was her own person, and she could talk to whoever she wanted. But the thought of her with someone else — especially someone like Miller — made my blood boil.

“Earth to Joe,” Coach called, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Are you planning on joining us today, or are you just here for the view?”

“Sorry, Coach,” I mumbled, jogging back to my spot on the field.

After practice, I found myself walking toward Y/N’s locker without even thinking about it. She was standing there, talking to Tracy, one of her friends from the prom committee. When she saw me, her face lit up, and for a moment, the tightness in my chest eased.

“Hey,” I said, my voice soft but warm. “Long day?”

“Exhausting,” Y/n replied with a laugh. “But worth it. The decorations are coming together, thanks to you.”

 “Just doing my part. Are you sure you don’t need a ride home? My truck’s right outside.” As the words left my mouth, I couldn’t help but hope she’d say yes, imagining the quiet moments we could share on the drive back. My mind flickered to the idea of her sitting beside me, her laughter filling the cab, but I pushed the thought aside, afraid of reading too much into the moment.

Y/n hesitated, her gaze dropping for a moment. “Actually, I’ve got a ride with a friend. We’re going to the party store, me and Tracy.”

“Right. Prom,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

“You’re still going, right?” she asked, her tone almost...hopeful.

Of course.

With you, I thought.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I said, forcing a smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Before the moment could grow awkward, Y/n stepped closer and leaned up to press a quick kiss to my cheek. I froze, the warmth of her lips lingering on my skin like a brand. My heart thundered in my chest, my mind scrambling to process what had just happened. I raised a hand instinctively to touch the spot, a faint blush creeping up my neck as I tried to fight back a grin. It was such a simple gesture, yet it sent a surge of hope through I that he couldn’t ignore. “Thanks for always looking out for me, Joe.”

I froze again, my heart pounding as her words echoed in my mind. But when I tried to talk again, she was already gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the hallway with my heart in my hands.

Y/N

As Tracy and I drove to the party supply store, I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Joe’s face when I told him I didn’t need a ride. He’d seemed...off. Almost sad. Or maybe I was just imagining things.

“So,” Tracy said, breaking the silence. “When are you finally going to tell Joe how you feel?”

I nearly choked on my soda. “What? I don’t—”

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Everyone knows you’re into him. Well, everyone except Joe, apparently.”

I sighed, sinking lower in my seat. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone teasing yet firm, as if daring me to challenge her judgment. My heart stuttered at her certainty, and for a moment, I wondered if Tracy knew something I didn’t. Was I missing signs? Or was I just too afraid to believe she might be right? The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying, a dangerous hope I wasn’t ready to fully embrace. “Because from where I’m standing, he’s just as into you as you are into him.”

Could she be right? The thought sent a flicker of hope through me, but I quickly pushed it down. Joe and I were best friends, and I couldn’t risk losing that. Even if it meant keeping my feelings to myself.

For now.

JOE BURROW

I watched her walk to her car, her hair catching the golden light of the setting sun, and I wanted to scream.

Why couldn’t I just say it? Why couldn’t I tell her that seeing Brian flirt with her had made me feel like I was losing my mind? That the thought of anyone else being close to her made my chest ache?

Because you’re a coward, Burrow.

I climbed into my truck and gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. Sam’s voice echoed in my head: You should just ask her to prom.

Easier said than done.

I’d known Y/N my whole life. She was my best friend, my partner in crime, the person who knew me better than anyone. But she was also the girl I was in love with, and the thought of risking everything—our friendship, the way she looked at me, the way she laughed at my stupid jokes—was enough to keep my mouth shut.

Still, as I drove home, I couldn’t shake the image of her and Brian at the booth. Her smile, her laugh—it should’ve been me making her laugh like that.

It should’ve been me.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I’d made up my mind.

I was going to ask her to prom.

Y/N’s POV

I got home super tired from the afternoon that I had with Tracy. After the store supplies, we went to grab some food on our way home. Now, I was sitting at my desk, trying—and failing—to focus on my calculus homework. My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen, my heart skipping a beat when I saw Joe’s name.

Joey: Can I come over?

I stared at the message for a moment, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. We texted all the time, but something about this felt… different.

Me: Yeah, sure.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on my window.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips as I got up to let him in. Joe had been climbing through my window since we were kids, and even though he was way too big for it now, he still insisted on doing it.

“You know,” I said as he swung his legs over the sill, “we have a perfectly good front door.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said, flashing me a grin.

But the grin didn’t quite reach his eyes, and I felt a pang of concern.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sitting back on my bed.

He hesitated, standing awkwardly in the middle of my room. “I, uh… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay…”

He took a deep breath, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Do you have a date for prom?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “No. Why?”

His cheeks turned pink, and he looked down at the floor. “I was wondering if you’d want to go with me. You know, as friends.”

My heart sank at the word friends, but I forced a smile.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’d love to.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—relief, maybe? Or was it disappointment? I couldn’t tell. 

“Cool,” he said, his voice softer now. “Thanks.”

He stayed for a while after that, talking about everything and nothing, just like we always did. But when he left, climbing back out the window with a quiet “Goodnight,”  I knew something was different, I could feel in the air. But I couldn't tell what.

The next morning, I walked into school with a strange mix of excitement and nerves buzzing in my chest. I was going to prom with Joe. My best friend. The guy I’d been hopelessly in love with for years.  

Sure, he’d asked me “as friends,” but that didn’t stop the part of me that clung to the idea that maybe—just maybe—prom night would change things.  

I was lost in thought as I made my way to the gym, where the prom committee was meeting to finalize decorations. I’d barely set my bag down at the table when a familiar voice interrupted me.  

“Morning, Y/N.”  

I looked up to see Brian Harris standing there, his easy smile firmly in place.  

“Oh, hey, Brian,” I said, offering him a polite smile.  

“Got a minute?” he asked, leaning casually against the table.  

“Uh, sure,” I said, setting down my clipboard.  

Brian glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening, then turned back to me. “So, I was thinking… you’ve been working really hard on all this prom stuff, and you deserve to have a great night. How about going with me?”  

The question caught me completely off guard. I blinked, my brain scrambling to catch up. “You… want to take me to prom?”  

“Yeah,” he said, his grin widening. “I mean, who wouldn’t? You’re smart, funny, hot… the whole package.”  

Heat rushed to my face, but not in the way it did when Joe said something sweet. This was different—flattering, sure, but not the kind of butterflies that made your stomach flip.  

“Brian, that’s really nice of you, but…” I hesitated, searching for the right words.  

“Let me guess,” he said, cutting me off. “You already have a date?”  

I nodded, feeling a little guilty for turning him down. “Yeah, I do.”  

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the lucky guy?”  

“Joe,” I said simply, and for a split second, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression—surprise, maybe? Or disbelief?  

“Joe Burrow?” he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.  

“Yes, Joe Burrow,” I said, crossing my arms defensively.  

Brian chuckled, shaking his head. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.  

“Nothing,” he said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just… didn’t peg him as the prom type. But hey, good for him. And for you.”  

“He's my best friend. Thanks.” I said, though his words left a sour taste in my mouth.  

As he walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of annoyance. Why did everyone act like Joe and I couldn’t be more than friends?  

JOE BURROW

I was halfway through practice when I got the text from Sam.  

Sam: Dude, Brian just tried to ask Y/N to prom.  

My grip tightened on the football, my jaw clenching so hard it hurt. I couldn't believe it. I kinda figured it out he was about to do something like that, he spent too much time quiet with me, it was weird. And now, he found a way.

“Burrow! Pay attention!” Coach barked.  

I nodded, forcing myself to focus on the play, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.  

Brian Harris. I should’ve known he wouldn’t give up that easily.  

By the time practice ended, I was practically sprinting to the parking lot. I spotted Y/N by her car, her head bent over her phone, and I spent the whole time hoping it wasn’t Brian.

“Y/N!” I called, jogging over.  

She looked up, her face lighting up in a way that made my heart skip a beat. “Hey, Joe. What’s up?”  

“I heard about Brian,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. The truth was, I wasn’t casual at all.

Her smile faded slightly. “Who told you?”  

“Sam,” I admitted, leaning against her car.  

She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, he asked me this morning.”  

“And what did you say?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.  

She gave me a look. “I told him I already had a date. You.”  

The tight knot in my chest loosened a fraction. “Good.”  

“Good?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yeah,” I said, trying to play it cool. “I mean, we already have plans, right?”  

“Right,” she said, her expression softening.  

For a moment, we just stood there, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow over everything.  

“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “do you need help with any of the prom stuff? Decorations or whatever?” 

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “You’re offering to help?”  

“Why not?” I said, shrugging. “I could use the extra credit.”  

She laughed, and the sound was like music to my ears. “Alright, Burrow. Let’s see if you can survive an afternoon with the prom committee.”  

Y/N

I didn’t know what had gotten into Joe, but I wasn’t about to question it. If he wanted to spend more time with me—even if it was just to help with prom decorations—I wasn’t going to say no. We spent the next few hours in the gym, stringing up fairy lights and setting up tables. Joe grumbled about the glitter (“It’s going to be stuck to me for weeks”), but he didn’t complain when I handed him another box of decorations.  

At one point, I climbed a ladder to hang a banner, and when I wobbled slightly, Joe was there in an instant, his hands steadying the ladder.  

“Careful,” he said, his voice low.  

I glanced down at him, my heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the height. “Thanks.”  

He held my gaze for a moment, his hands still gripping the ladder, and I felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of us.  

“Anytime,” he said softly.  

By the time we finished, the gym was starting to look like the prom of my dreams. 

The next day, the buzz about prom was everywhere. People were swapping dress ideas, talking about their dates, and sharing excitement about the night that was quickly approaching.  

By lunchtime, I was sitting at our usual table in the cafeteria, flipping through a prom checklist on my phone. Joe was sitting across from me, picking at his fries, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.  

“Are you seriously still doing prom stuff?” Tracy, my best friend, asked as she slid into the seat next to me.  

“Somebody has to,” I said, not looking up.  

“Somebody who isn’t you,” she shot back. “You’re already doing, like, ten other things. Delegation, Y/N. Learn it.”  

“She’s too much of a control freak,” Joe chimed in, smirking at me.  

I narrowed my eyes on him. “I’m organized, not a control freak.”  

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” he said, popping a fry into his mouth.  

“Speaking of prom,” Tracy said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “have you told Joe what color your dress is yet? Or are you going to make him show up looking like a colorblind disaster?”  

I froze, suddenly aware of Joe’s eyes on me. “I—uh—I hadn’t thought about it.”  

“Seriously?” Tracy said, looking between us. “You two are going together, and you haven’t talked about coordinating?”  

“We’re going as friends,” I said quickly, feeling my cheeks heat up.  

Tracy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Friends.”  

Joe shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or embarrassed. Maybe both.  

“Anyway,” I said, trying to change the subject, “what about you? Who are you going with?”  

Tracy grinned. “Brian Harris asked me this morning.”  

My stomach dropped. “He did?”  

“Yep,” she said, clearly oblivious to the way my hands tightened around my phone. “Apparently, you turned him down, so he went with his second choice. And that’s exactly why I don't go out too much, I Said no, I’m going with Sam.”  

“Second choice?” I repeated, the words stinging more than they should have.  

“Oh, don’t get all weird about it,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re going with Joe, so who cares what Brian does?”  

She had a point. I was going with Joe. But why did it feel like I was still losing somehow?  I wasn't surprised about what happened. Couldn't get me, it’s not going to get my best friend either.

JOE BURROW

Sam and Josh , my two closest friends from the football team, were waiting for me by the vending machines after lunch. 

“So,” Sam said as soon as I walked up, following me into the hallway “you’re really going to prom with Y/N, huh?”  

I rolled my eyes, shoving a dollar into the machine. “Yeah. Why?”  

“Because it’s about damn time,” Josh said, leaning against the wall.  

I turned to glare at him, while I took my Kit-kat from the machine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  

Sam snorted. “Come on, Burrow. Everyone knows you’re crazy about her. You’ve been in love with her since, like, the fifth grade.”  

“That’s not true,” I said automatically, but even I could hear how unconvincing I sounded.  

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then why did you almost rip Brian Harris’s head off at practice yesterday when Sam told you he asked her to prom?”  

“That’s different,” I muttered, punching the button for a soda.  

“Sure it is,” Sam said, smirking. “You’re totally not jealous or anything.”  

“I’m not,” I insisted, but the words felt hollow.  

The truth was, I had been jealous. Seeing Brian talk to her, flirt with her, try to take her to prom—it had made me feel like I was seconds away from losing something I hadn’t even realized I was holding onto.  

And that scared the hell out of me.  

“She’s my best friend,” I said finally, throwing the paper on the trash. “Exactly,” Carter said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Which is why you need to stop screwing around and tell her how you feel.”  

I didn’t respond, because what was the point? Even if I did tell her how I felt, there was no guarantee she’d feel the same way.  

And if she didn’t?  

I couldn’t risk losing her.  

Y/N

By the time the final bell rang, I was ready to go home and collapse. But as I was walking to the parking lot, Tracy caught up with me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I know she was planing something I could feel in tHE air.

“Guess what,” she said, falling into step beside me.  

“What?” I asked, too tired to play along.  

“There’s a group going to that new dress shop downtown tomorrow, and you’re coming with me.”  

I groaned. “Tracy, I already have a dress.”  

“Yeah, but I don’t,” she said, grinning. “And I need moral support. Plus, we need to make sure your dress doesn’t clash with Joe’s suit.”  

I rolled my eyes. “Joe doesn’t care about that stuff.” And It was true. It didn’t matter if I was going with a red dress or blue.

“Maybe not,” she said, “but you do.”  

I hated that she was right.  

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll go.” 

The next afternoon, Tracy picked me up for the trip to the new dress shop downtown. The store was buzzing with excited chatter, racks of shimmering gowns lining the walls, and mirrors reflecting endless possibilities.  

Tracy dragged me to the section with bright, glittery dresses that screamed “look at me.” I could tell she was in her element, flipping through racks like a woman on a mission.  

“What about this one?” she asked, holding up a strapless red gown with a thigh-high slit.  

“For you or for me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. It was too much.

“For you,” she said with a grin. “You’d kill in this.”  

I shook my head. “It’s too much.”  

“Y/N, you’re going to prom with Joe Burrow. You have to make an impression.”  

“I’m already going with him,” I said. “Why do I need to impress him?”  

Tracy shot me a look. “You’re kidding, right? You’re hopelessly in love with the guy, and you don’t think this is your chance to finally make him see it?”  

My heart skipped a beat, and I froze mid-reach for a more modest gown. I didn’t even know what to say. “I—what? I’m not—”  

“Save it,” she said, cutting me off. “You might be able to fool everyone else, but not me. So pick something that’ll make his jaw drop.”  

I sighed, knowing there was no point arguing. Tracy wasn’t going to let this go.  

After what felt like hours of trying on dresses, I finally stepped out of the dressing room in a floor-length navy gown with a sweetheart neckline and delicate lace detailing.  

Tracy’s jaw dropped. “That’s the one.”  

I turned to look at myself in the mirror, and for a moment, I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. The dress hugged my figure in all the right places, and the navy color made my skin glow. It was that one, I know that.

“Wow,” I whispered.  

“Joe’s going to lose his mind,” Tracy said with a satisfied grin.  

I didn’t know about that, but for the first time, I felt like I might actually look like someone worth noticing.  

JOE BURROW.

Later that evening, I was sitting in my room, staring at my phone. Sam and Josh's words from earlier in the week were still playing in my head.  

“Tell her how you feel.”  

I sighed, tossing my phone onto the bed. It wasn’t that simple.  

Or maybe it was, and I was just a coward.  

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up to see a text from Y/N.  

Y/N:Just finished dress shopping with Tracy. I think I found the one.  

Me: Cool. Send me a pic.  

There was a long pause before she responded.  

Y/N: Nope. You’ll have to wait until prom.  

I frowned at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard.  

Me: Not even a sneak peek?  

Y/N: Nope.  

I sighed, but a small smile tugged at my lips. She always knew how to keep me on my toes.  

The next morning, Sam and Josh cornered me in the locker room after practice.  

“You figure out your prom look yet?” Josh asked, tossing a towel onto the bench.  

“I’m wearing a suit,” I said flatly.  

Sam snorted. “Wow, groundbreaking.”  

“Do you even know what color she’s wearing?” Josh asked, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yeah,” I lied.  

“Bullshit,” Sam said. “You didn’t even ask her, did you?”  

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “No, but I’m sure whatever I pick will be fine.”  

Carter shook his head. “You’re hopeless, man.”  

I’m in Love. It 's different.

Y/N

The week of prom flew by in a whirlwind of final preparations. The committee was meeting every day after school, and by Friday afternoon, the gym was completely transformed.  

I stood in the middle of the room, surveying the decorations with a mix of pride and exhaustion. The fairy lights twinkled above, casting a soft glow over the tables, and the dance floor was ready to go.  

“It looks amazing,” Joe said, walking up behind me.  

“Yeah,” I said, smiling up at him. “I think we pulled it off.”  

“You think?” he teased. “You’ve been running this show since day one.”  

I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t just me.”  

“Sure,” he said, smirking.  

For a moment, we just stood there, the hum of the committee members packing up around us fading into the background.  

“You’re going to look great tomorrow,” Joe said suddenly, his voice soft.  

I looked up at him, my heart skipping a beat. “You think so?”  

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “I know so.”  

I gave him a smile, and he opened his arms, asking for a hug. I got on my tiptoes, hugging Joe tight while his arms went around my waist.

[...]

The air was electric that morning. The last day of high school had arrived, and it felt like every hallway, every classroom, every moment was buzzing with a mix of nostalgia and excitement. People were signing yearbooks, taking pictures, and talking about their plans for the summer and beyond.  

Even I couldn’t help but smile as I walked to my locker. It was bittersweet, knowing this chapter of our lives was coming to an end.  

“Y/N!” Tracy called out, jogging to catch up with me. She had her camera slung around her neck, determined to document every second of the day.  

“Ready for the waterworks?” I teased.  

“Please, you’re the emotional one,” she shot back, grinning. “Anyway, don’t forget we’re doing a group photo at lunch. You and Joe better be there.”  

“Of course,” I said. “Speaking of Joe, have you seen him?”  

“Probably at his locker, brooding like usual,” Tracy said with a laugh. “Anyway, any big plans for tonight?” she asked, nudging me playfully.

“Just the prom committee meeting,” I said with a laugh. “And then maybe collapsing from exhaustion.”

She rolled her eyes. “You need to have more fun, Y/N. Let loose. Do something crazy for once.”

I shook my head. “I’ll catch up with you later.”  

And I heard a voice.

“Y/N!” Joe was striding toward me, his long legs making quick work of the crowded hallway.

“Your shadow approaches,” Tracy whispered with a smirk before disappearing into the crowd.

“Hey,” I said as he reached me.

“Are you ready for the pep rally?” he asked, leaning casually against the lockers.

“Always,” I said, trying not to smile too hard at the way his hair was slightly tousled from football practice. “Are you ready for this?” I asked, gesturing around us.  

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said with a shrug.  

“You don’t sound excited.”  

“It’s just a day,” he said, closing his locker.  

I rolled my eyes. “It’s the day, Joe. Our last day of high school. Try to act like it’s a big deal.”  

We walked to the gym together, the noise and chaos of the hallways swirling around us. Everything felt heightened—like we were living in slow motion, with every moment stretched out and glowing.

JOE BURROW.

The pep rally was loud, chaotic, and exactly what it needed to be. Seniors were on fire, shouting chants and tossing confetti in the air like it was the Super Bowl.  

I couldn’t stop glancing at Y/N, though. She was sitting with Tracy and a few other committee members, laughing as they worked on last-minute plans for tomorrow’s prom.  

She looked happy—really happy—and it hit me like a punch to the gut.  

I wasn’t the only one who noticed her, either.  

Brian Harris, the basketball player who’d been hovering around her all week, kept glancing in her direction.  

“Man, you have to do something.” Sam said to me, loud enough for me to hear him on top of the school band chant’s. I looked over at him, still seeing Brian smiling to Y/N, and I don’t know, I’m almost sure that she’s not comfortable.

JOE: you good?

I said in my message. Saw her opening her phone, but she didn’t text me back.

“He invited her that day, as soon as you steped back to class.” Josh said as well, looking at Brian ans Y/N.

“She is independent, can be with anyone she wants.”

“And you want that, Burrow?”

Sam asked me, and before I could respond to him, he was running back to our friends. By the time the rally ended, my mood had gone from celebratory to sour.  

By the time lunch rolled around, my patience was wearing thin. The day was supposed to be perfect—our last day as seniors, with Y/N by my side—but Brian Harris was determined to ruin it.  

I saw him hanging around her at the pep rally, throwing those cocky smiles her way like he thought she’d actually fall for it.  

And the worst part? She’d smiled back.  

It wasn’t the same smile she gave me, though. Hers was polite, almost distracted, but it still made my chest tighten.  

I knew Brian wasn’t going to back off, and the thought of him getting even one step closer to her made my blood boil.  

Y/N

Y/N

The last day of high school felt magical in a way that I couldn’t quite put into words. The hallways were alive with laughter, and the air was thick with excitement and nostalgia. Everything about the day seemed to shimmer—the sunlight streaming through the windows, the fresh breeze that wafted through open doors, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floors.  

It was hard to believe this chapter of our lives was ending. Every smile, every hug, every glance at the crowded hallways felt like a snapshot I wanted to hold onto forever.  

But beneath the sparkle of it all, I couldn’t shake the tension I’d felt since the pep rally. Joe had been quieter than usual. He was there, walking me to class and teasing me like always, but something was… off.

“See you at lunch?” I asked.  

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softer now.  

But there was something in his eyes that made me pause.  

“Joe—”  

“Go,” he said, forcing a small smile. “You’ll be late.”  

I didn’t push him, though. Joe wasn’t the kind of person you were forced to talk to. He’d tell me what was on his mind when he was ready.  

Or so I thought.

I was walking with Tracy to the cafeteria when I heard someone call my name.  

“Y/N!”  

I turned to see Brian Harris jogging toward me, that signature smug grin plastered across his face.  

“Hey,” he said, stopping a little too close.  

“Uh, hey,” I replied, glancing at Tracy, who raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet.  

“I was wondering if you’d thought about the prom thing.” he said, leaning against the lockers like he owned the place.  

I blinked. “Oh, um… I’m going with Joe. I told you that already.”  

Brian’s grin faltered for a second before he recovered. “Right, the football star. But, you know, if you want a real man to take you, I’m available. Joe’s it’s just a football player like every single other one, He’s going to fuck you and forget your name right after.”  

I froze, my stomach twisting in discomfort. “Excuse me?”  

“You’re too pretty to waste your time on a guy like that,” Brian said, his voice dripping with arrogance. “I’d show you a better time, Y/N. You deserve someone who can actually keep up with you, ‘ya know? Not that bullshit.”  

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a blade.  

“What the hell did you just say?”  

JOE BURROW.  

The second I saw Brian cornering her, my body moved before I even realized what I was doing.  

I knew that look on his face. It was the same one he used to intimidate guys on the court, and it made my blood run hot.  When I heard what he’d said to her—when I saw the way her face twisted in discomfort—I saw red.  

“You got something to say about me, Harris?” I said, stepping between him and Y/N.  

Brian smirked, crossing his arms. “Relax, Burrow. I’m just saying the truth. She deserves better than some meathead quarterback.”  

“Back off,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.  

“Or what?” Brian challenged, his grin widening.

I glanced at Y/N out of the corner of my eye. She looked uncomfortable, like she wanted to disappear.  

“You’re pathetic,” I snapped at Brian. “You don’t even know her.”  

“And you do?” he shot back, laughing. “What are you, her guard dog? Or just her backup plan when no one else asks her out?  You afraid cause I can fuck her better dan you do?”

That was it.  

Before I even thought about it, my fist collided with his jaw.  

I barely felt Brian’s punch. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, and all I could think about was wiping that smug grin off his face.  

The hallway erupted into chaos as people gathered around, shouting and gasping.  

Y/N 

“Joe!” I shouted, shoving my way through the crowd.  

Brian staggered back, clutching his face, and then lunged at Joe.  

Teachers swarmed the hallway, pulling them apart before Brian could land a punch.  

“You’re insane!” Brian yelled, glaring at Joe as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.  

“Better insane than a creep,” Joe shot back, his chest heaving.  

The teachers dragged them off in opposite directions, and I stood frozen, my heart racing as I tried to process what had just happened.  

I burst into the principal’s office, my heart racing.  

When I pushed open the door to the office, Joe was sitting in one of the chairs, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his eye. He looked up when I walked in, his expression a mix of embarrassment and defiance. His lip was cut, and his knuckles were red, but he didn’t look the least bit sorry.  

“What were you thinking?” I demanded, walking over to him.  

He shrugged. “Brian deserved it.”  

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “You know you’re going to have a black eye at prom, right?”  

He smirked, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a way that made my heart stutter. “You think it’ll match my suit?”  

I rolled my eyes, but my expression softened as I crouched beside him.  

“Let me see,” I said, gently pulling the bag of peas away.  

His eye was already starting to swell, the skin around it an angry shade of red.  

I reached out, gently brushing my fingers against his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that, Joe.”  

“Yes, I did,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine.  

For a moment, we just sat there, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, impulsively, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the uninjured part of his cheek.  

“For good luck,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.  

Joe froze, his gaze locked on mine. My heart raced like a roller coaster.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, but his tone was soft, almost affectionate.  

“You’re an idiot,” I shot back, standing up.  

He grabbed my wrist before I could step away, his fingers warm against my skin.  

“Thanks,” he said, his voice low.  

“For what?”  

“For being you,” he said simply.  

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded.  

“Come here,” he said, pulling me into a hug.  

I hesitated for a moment before wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He buried his face against my side, his grip firm but not overwhelming.  I felt my skiing getting hotter and hotter, and I just could smile. My hands went to his hair, my fingers went through his dirty blonde hair. We stayed like that until the principal walked in, but by then, I wasn’t sure I cared about anything else. 

It was just me and him against the world, and nothing else.

[...]

And that was it, it was prom night.

The house smelled like hairspray and perfume, and my room was a disaster zone. Dresses were scattered across the bed, shoes piled in a corner, and makeup brushes lay abandoned on the vanity. Tracy, as usual, was in full control, directing the chaos like she was the queen of prom night.  

“Hold still, Y/N!” she barked, holding up a curling iron dangerously close to my face.  

“I am holding still!” I protested, wincing as she tugged on another section of my hair.  

Tracy sighed dramatically, stepping back to examine her work. “Okay, that’s better. You’re going to look so good tonight. Joe’s going to lose his mind.”  

I rolled my eyes, pretending the mention of his name didn’t send my stomach into a flutter. “It’s just prom, Tracy. Not a wedding.”  

She smirked. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. One day you’re going to marry him.”  

Those words echoed in my mind, like a prophecy. Marriage, Joe, his last name. I felt like a little girl dreaming big.

Deep down, I knew she was half right. Prom wasn’t just another night. It was the last big event of high school, the last chance for everything unsaid to finally come to the surface. And with Joe… there was a lot to say.  

JOE BURROW.  

I couldn’t stop pacing.  

The suit felt too stiff, the tie too tight, and my reflection in the mirror wasn’t doing much to calm my nerves. The bruise under my eye had turned a deep shade of purple overnight, standing out against my pale skin like a neon sign.  

“You look ridiculous,” Sam said, lounging on my bed with his arms behind his head. “Like someone punched you in the face or something.”  

I glared at him. “Shut up.”  

“Relax, man,” he said, grinning. “Y/N doesn’t care what you look like. She’s already obsessed with you.”  

“Y/N’s not obsessed with me,” I muttered, adjusting my tie for the tenth time.  

“Right,” Sam said, dragging out the word. “And you’re not obsessed with her either.”  

“I’m not.”  

“Then why’d you deck Brian Harris yesterday?”  

My jaw tightened, but I didn’t answer.  

“That’s what I thought,” Sam said, sitting up. “Look, just tell her how you feel tonight. It’s prom. You’re supposed to be a little dramatic.”  

I groaned, rubbing the back of my neck. “You make it sound so easy.”  

My mom’s voice got into my ears, from downstairs, screaming at us saying that Josh got there with his mom’s eight places SUV.

“Because it is,” Sam said, standing up and clapping me on the shoulder. “Now come on. Let’s go pick her up.”  

Y/N

The knock on the door sent a ripple of nerves through me.  

“Y/N, they’re here!” my mom called from downstairs.  

Tracy gave me a final once-over, her eyes narrowing in approval. “You look perfect. Now go knock him dead.”  

I smoothed down the front of my dress, took a deep breath, and made my way downstairs.  

When I saw Joe standing in the entryway, my breath caught. He looked… incredible. The black suit fit him perfectly, and even with the bruise under his eye, he somehow managed to look like he’d stepped out of a movie.  

He looked up as I descended the stairs, his mouth parting slightly as his eyes locked on me.  

“Wow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  

I blushed, smiling nervously. “Hi.”  

“You look…” He shook his head, searching for the right words. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”  

“Thanks,” I said softly, my heart pounding. “You look pretty good yourself.”  

He grinned, and for a moment, everything else faded away. My heart was beating so fast… It was crazy.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, holding out his arm.  

“Yeah,” I said, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s do this.”  

JOE BURROW.  

The ride to prom was a blur of nerves and stolen glances. Y/N was sitting beside me, her dress shimmering under the streetlights, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to tell her the truth.  

That I’d been in love with her for as long as I could remember.  

That seeing her with anyone else felt like a punch to the gut.  

That she was the only reason high school had meant anything to me at all.  

But every time I opened my mouth, the words got stuck in my throat.  

When we arrived at the venue, the place was already packed. Lights twinkle from every corner of the ballroom, and music echoed through the open doors.  

“Come on,” Y/N said, tugging on my arm. “Let’s go find Tracy before she starts texting me a thousand times.”  

I followed her inside, my chest tightening as I watched her weave through the crowd with that familiar confidence. She belonged here, in the center of it all, surrounded by laughter and light. And I couldn’t help but feel like I was just lucky to be standing next to her.  

We walked through a crowd of teenagers, everyone stopping Y/N to say that the place was awesome. I was holding her hand, walking behind her and letting her set the pace.

“I’m not finding Brian.” She said, the happiness palpable in her voice.

I gave her a smile. “Cause tonight is your night.”

Y/N  

Prom was everything I’d hoped it would be. The decorations, the music, the energy—it all felt like a dream, but even as I danced with my friends and laughed at Tracy’s terrible attempts at doing the cha-cha slide, my attention kept drifting back to Joe.  

He was standing by the punch table, talking to Sam and a couple of his football buddies, but every so often, his eyes would find mine across the room.  

And every time they did, my heart skipped a beat.  

“You should just go for it,” Tracy said, nudging me.  

“What are you talking about?” I asked, pretending not to know exactly what she meant.  

“Joe,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re practically glowing every time you look at him.”  

I glanced at him again, my stomach doing flips.  

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?” I asked quietly.  

Tracy gave me a knowing smile. “Trust me, Y/N. He does.”  

“How–”

“Babe, he walks you to your car everyday, even when he has practice. He’s your pair in chemistry cause he found out you're not that good. He just use his cologne cause you like it. That guy has been in love with you for ages. Go.

But as I walked to meet me, he came down my direction.

JOE BURROW.

By the time the slow songs started playing, I couldn’t take it anymore.  

“Do you want to dance?” I asked, walking up to her before I could lose my nerve.  

She looked up at me, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”  

I led her to the dance floor, my heart pounding as I rested my hands on her waist. She placed hers on my shoulders, and for a moment, we just stood there, swaying to the music.  

“You having fun?” I asked, my voice quiet.  

She nodded, smiling up at me. “Yeah. Are you?”  

I hesitated, my eyes searching hers. “I think this might be the best night of my life.”  

Her smile faltered slightly, her brows furrowed in confusion.  

“Y/N,” I said, my voice shaky. “There’s something I need to tell you.”  

Her grip on my shoulders tightened, and I could see the fear and hope mingling in her eyes.  

“What is it?” she asked softly, looking over my eyes, and my mouth. I almost fainted.

I took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage I had.  

“I—”  

The words sat heavy on my tongue, burning to be said, but no matter how much I wanted to just tell her, my chest felt too tight.  Y/N looked at me expectantly, her hands light on my shoulders as we swayed to the music. Her eyes searched mine, and I could feel the weight of her gaze, like she was daring me to break the silence between us.  

But I didn’t.  

“Never mind,” I said, forcing a small smile. “It’s nothing.”  

Her expression faltered for a split second, a flicker of disappointment flashing across her face before she recovered. She gave me a soft smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

“You’re acting weird tonight,” she said, her voice teasing but gentle.  

“I’m fine,” I lied.  

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me, but she let it go. “Okay. If you say so.”  

The song ended, and the crowd around us erupted into cheers and applause. Y/N stepped back, her hands falling from my shoulders, and I immediately missed the warmth of her touch.  

“Let’s get some punch,” she said, her tone light as if she hadn’t noticed the tension that had been building between us all night.  

I nodded, following her off the dance floor, kicking myself for chickening out again.  

Y/N

Joe was acting so strange, and I couldn’t figure out why. He was quieter than usual, and there was something in the way he looked at me that made my stomach twist in knots.  

For a moment on the dance floor, I thought he was going to say something—something important. But then he didn’t, and the moment passed, leaving me feeling more confused than ever.  

I tried to shake it off as we made our way to the refreshment table, but it was hard to ignore the nagging feeling in my chest.  

Before I could dwell on it too much, the DJ’s voice boomed over the speakers, announcing that it was time to crown the prom king and queen.  

“Oh my god, here we go!” Tracy squealed, bouncing on her heels next to me. “This is my favorite part!”  

The crowd gathered around the stage as the principal took the microphone, holding two glittering crowns in his hands.  

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice echoing through the ballroom. “The moment you’ve all been waiting for—the announcement of your prom king and queen!”  

The room buzzed with excitement, and I couldn’t help but smile at the energy in the air.  

The principal unfolded a piece of paper and cleared his throat dramatically. “Your 2015 prom king is…” He paused for effect, dragging out the suspense.  

“Joe Burrow!”  

My heart stopped.  

The room erupted into cheers and applause as Joe’s friends pushed him toward the stage. He looked completely shocked, his face turning red as he stumbled forward.  

“Go, Joe!” Sam yelled, clapping him on the back.  

Joe climbed onto the stage, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as the principal placed the crown on his head. He looked out at the crowd, his eyes wide and uncertain, and when his gaze landed on me, I couldn’t help but laugh.  

He looked like he wanted to bolt.  

“And now,” the principal continued, holding up the second crown, “your 2015 prom queen is…”  

I barely had time to register the words before they hit me.  

“Y/N Y/L/N!”  

My jaw dropped.  

Tracy shrieked, grabbing my arm and shaking me. “Oh my god, Y/N! You won!”  

The crowd cheered again, and I felt my cheeks flush as everyone turned to look at me.  

“Go,” Tracy urged, pushing me toward the stage. “Go get your crown!”  

I stumbled forward, my heart racing as I climbed onto the stage. Joe was standing there, still looking like he couldn’t believe what was happening, and when I reached him, he gave me a lopsided smile.  

“Guess it’s our night,” he said softly.  

I laughed nervously, and before I could respond, the principal placed the crown on my head. The crowd roared, and for a moment, I couldn’t think about anything except how surreal this all felt.  

“I voted for you, actually.” He said to me. “Everyone else felt wrong.”

“And now, for the king and queen’s first dance!” the DJ announced, cueing up a slow song.  

My stomach flipped.  

Joe held out his hand, his eyes meeting mine. “Shall we?”  

I hesitated for half a second before taking his hand. “Let’s do it.”  

JOE BURROW.

I couldn’t believe it.  

Of all the people to win prom king and queen, it had to be us.  

The crowd parted as we stepped onto the dance floor, the music soft and slow. I held her close, my hands resting on her waist, and for the first time all night, everything else faded away.  

She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling under the dim lights. “This is… unexpected,” she said, her voice light and teasing.  

I chuckled, feeling a little more at ease. “Yeah. I guess it is.”  

We swayed to the music, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the room.  

“You’re a good dancer,” she said, surprising me.  

“Don’t sound so shocked,” I replied, grinning. “My mom uses me as a pair for her dance classes every wednesday.”

She laughed, and the sound sent a warm rush through me.  

I wanted to say something—anything—that would let her know how I felt. But every time I opened my mouth, the words got stuck. So instead, I just held her a little closer, hoping she could feel everything I couldn’t say.  

Y/N

Dancing with Joe felt like a dream.  

The music, the lights, the way his hands fit so perfectly on my waist—it was all too perfect, too much.  

And yet, it wasn’t enough.  

I wanted to say something to him, to break the tension that had been building between us all night. But I didn’t know how to start, or what to say.  

So I just smiled, letting myself get lost in the moment.  

As the song came to an end, the crowd erupted into applause, and Joe stepped back, his hands lingering on my waist for just a second longer than necessary.  

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely audible over the noise.  

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Tracy grabbed my arm, pulling me back into the chaos of the crowd.  

I glanced back at Joe, my heart aching with everything I didn’t say.  

But the night wasn’t over yet. 

It was hard to believe that prom had ended. We had just been crowned king and queen, dancing beneath the dim lights, and now here I was, stumbling out of the ballroom with Joe, our friends trailing behind us like a pack of wild animals, laughing and shouting.

“I can’t believe you’re the prom queen,” Tracy yelled, her voice echoing in the parking lot. “You deserve it, though. No one shines like you.”

I laughed, the night air cool on my flushed cheeks. “I don’t know about that,” I said, glancing over at Joe who was walking beside me, his hand brushing against mine. My stomach fluttered at the contact, but I didn’t say anything.

The parking lot was chaotic as everyone piled into cars. Tracy, Sam, and the others crammed into one, while Joe and I ended up in another with a few other friends, laughing and joking like it was just another night. But it didn’t feel like just another night. This felt different. This felt like the last time we’d all be together in this way.

“You guys are gonna miss each other so much,” Tracy said, her words a bit slurred. “This is the last time we’re all gonna be together.”

I looked around at everyone—Sam and his crew, Tracy with her beaming smile, and Joe, sitting across from me, his eyes twinkling in the dim light. I didn’t want this night to end. It felt like the end of something—something big. 

JOE BURROW.

The night ended up going by in a blur. The prom was exactly what I expected and nothing like I imagined. My crown, which had been placed atop my head in a daze, felt heavier with every passing second. But as I glanced over at Y/N, standing beside me, I realized that tonight wasn't about the crown or the glittering dance floor—it was about the fact that we had both made it here together. 

As soon as the prom ended, everyone piled into cars, the laughter and chaos of the night spilling out into the streets. Tracy and Sam were in the front seats, and the rest of us packed into two cars heading for our usual spot: the 24/7 fast food joint down the street. 

“Best night ever!” Tracy yelled from the front seat, her voice full of excitement and maybe a little too much sugar.

Y/N, sitting next to me, leaned her head back against the seat and sighed. “Honestly, this is the only place I wanted to end up tonight.” 

I glanced at her, a grin tugging at my lips. “It’s perfect, huh?” 

The group of us shuffled into the fast food place, everyone high on adrenaline, and suddenly, the night felt endless. I grabbed a large soda and some fries, and we all sat around, teasing each other, making fun of the awkward moments at prom. It didn’t take long before someone—probably Sam—suggested spiking the punch. 

Y/N was sipping her soda innocently, but I could tell the punch had begun to work its magic. Her eyes were a little glassy, and her giggles were more frequent than usual. I could feel it too. The alcohol had taken over, making everything feel lighter, blurrier. 

After a few more rounds of punch and laughing over ridiculous prom photos, our group decided to walk. No one really wanted the night to end just yet. Y/N and I stumbled a bit, weaving through the streets as we made our way toward my house. It was a warm night, and we walked slowly, the stars twinkling above us, as if everything in the universe had aligned for this very moment.

By the time we made it to the end of the place, I was barely able to keep my eyes open. But I didn’t want to go home yet. Not like this.

“Joe, we’re walking,” Sam said, slurring his words as he jumped out of the car and started heading toward the neighborhood. “Come on! We’re taking the long way back!”

I looked at Y/N, and she just shrugged, smiling. “I’m in,” she said, laughing.

And just like that, we all piled out of the cars and started walking through the dark streets, the cool night air refreshing against our skin as we stumbled down familiar roads.

We walked past houses, the sidewalks empty, the only sounds coming from our group and the occasional rustling of trees. We didn’t have any particular destination in mind. We just walked and talked, our laughter echoing through the empty streets. It was so easy, so natural, like we had all the time in the world.

At some point, we ended up on my street. My house loomed ahead, warm lights spilling out from the windows. We’d spent so many nights here before, just talking and watching the stars, and tonight felt like no different.

I led Y/N to my backyard, where a small patch of grass sat beneath a canopy of trees, almost tripping on our feet. The stars were clear in the sky, shining brighter than I had ever seen them before. It was like everything was glowing, alive, and the world was just right.

We laid down on the grass, our arms touching, but not quite close enough for me to feel her warmth completely. The alcohol from the punch made everything fuzzy, the stars spinning above us. My thoughts were scattered, my words slow, but somehow it all felt peaceful.

She was lying beside me, her hand resting on her stomach, her eyes on the sky. I could feel her breath in the air, feel her presence beside me. And in that moment, I realized how much I didn’t want this night to end.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice quiet as I stared at the stars.  

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice a little deeper than usual, probably from the alcohol. “It’s crazy how small we are, you know? It’s like everything else fades away.”

My body felt heavy with the weight of everything I had left unsaid. The way I felt about her. The way she made me feel every time she was near.

“I’m glad you’re here with me tonight, Joe,” She whispered.

“I’m glad you’re here too, Y/N.” There was a slight hesitation in my voice. A flicker of something I couldn’t place.

The alcohol had taken over, and everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. The way her voice sounded, the way the world felt too big and too small at the same time—it was all a blur, but one thing was crystal clear: I didn’t want this night to end. I didn’t want her to leave.

I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of her face in the dim light of the stars. She looked like she was deep in thought, her lips slightly parted. There was something about the way she looked at me, something that made my heart race and my stomach twist.

I didn’t think. I didn’t even hesitate. I just leaned toward her, closing the distance between us. The moment our lips met, everything else melted away. The world stopped spinning, and all that mattered was her. Her taste, the way her lips felt against mine, the way she kissed me back as if she’d been waiting for this moment too.

It was like time didn’t exist. Like it was just the two of us, under the stars, finally doing what we had both wanted to do for so long.

When we pulled away, breathless and dizzy from the kiss, neither of us said anything. We just laid there, looking up at the sky, the stars blurring into streaks of light as our minds swirled.

The night ended with a haze, the kiss lingering in my mind but slowly fading as the alcohol wore off. The stars were still shining, but everything felt a little more distant now.

I couldn’t remember exactly how we got back to the house, how we ended up on my couch, or how we fell asleep, side by side. But when I woke up the next morning, my mind was foggy, my lips still tingling, and the memory of the stars felt far away.

I could remember nothing about last night.

[kaciebello]

King of thieves

Masterlist Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, fem) Summary: Luke is naturally borrowing things without asking. He is rather shocked when someone beats him at his own game Warning: no use of y/n author note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) Word count: 1,7k Song: Karma by Taylor Swift

May 3rd

Luke was the son of Hermes. The god of messengers and travellers. The god of thieves. It made sense he couldn't help it. Sometimes, his hands just moved independently and suddenly he was carrying a gold bracelet in his pockets. Nonedobletly belongs to one of the aphorides kids. He's used to giving a few days and then pretending to find it in one of the fields. He watched his sibling bring many questionable things to the cabin, with even more questionable origins. That is was he not surprised by his friends' accusations.

“Give it back.” She said, one hand on her hip and the other palm up to him.

“I don't have it.” He argued back. His arms crossed over his chest. The girl just narrowed her eyes. 

“I don't have time for this. Give it back.” The girl said as if it would suddenly jog his memory if he took her bracelet with the scythe charm on it. So again, he shook his head, signalling he did not have it. The girl just sighed and let her hands hang around her body.

“I swear if this is another paintbrush situation, I will burn you on a stake Castellan.” Grin spread across his face as he watched her walk away. Possibly trying to retrace her steps, trying to see if she just lost it after all.

She didn't. The bracelet was burning hole in his pockets right now. Had she just searched him better, she would have noticed him moving it from pocket to pocket. He snatched it first thing in the morning, they made a bet during breakfast and shook on it. She did not even notice it. Luke thanks his chams for that.

In his defence, he had all the reasons to steal it. Well maybe not legal reasons, but reasons nonetheless. He turned around on his heel and walked back to his cabin.

–

May 10th

“Are you sure you don't have it?”  She said as she circled him, her sword lifted his way just a little bit. Luke couldn’t do anything but laugh. They were both sweaty from all the sparing, and the bright sun did not help. Her hair was messy from all the jumping and rolling around. He found her endearing like this. 

“It's been a week, If I did I would have given it back to you at this point.”  He turns his body to face her. It was the truth, had he taken it by accident, which wasn't the case. The girl just frowns at him before looking at him in the eyes.

“I feel like you're lying.” She says taking a few steps to him. Her sword taps his chest as she does. Luke could only smile. He knew the bracelet was placed safely in a box that was wedged between the wall and his mattress.

“ Maybe I am, maybe I'm not.” he teases her, placing his hand on the sword. Not worrying about any scratches. 

“Which one is it, Castellan?” Now it was his turn to take steps closer to her. They were almost chest-to-chest at this point. Looking at her doe eyes, a smirk spread on his face.

“ Do you consider telling half-truths a lie?” The girl just snickered at him before moving back. he would feel the sword moving and tap him on his biceps.

“Pull your sleeves down, it's distracting.” Luke flexed his mussels one more time before doing so.

–

May 17th

“Did you steal this too?” She says looking at the can of Diet Coke in her hand. Luke just rolls his eyes. He did.

“No, now shut up and enjoy the view.”  He took her can and set it aside alongside his. The Girl just shrugged and lay down, watching the stars. Luke followed suit.  Although it was his idea to go stargazing, he didn't pay much attention. sure, his eyes were very much watching the stars, but he was mentally screaming. Probably more than the younger campers he could hear in the background. They were so close that their hands were brushing against each other. 

His pinkie itched to wrap around hers, but his nerves only allowed him to twitch without actually moving it. The girl was babbling something about the stars but he really couldn't make out any words. Only focusing on the way her voice made him feel. All silly and like he was made pudding. 

His ears almost perked up when he heard her sigh. Turning his gaze from the stars in the night sky to look into those in her eyes, trying to figure out what was annoying her. It was like his heart stopped when she turned her whole body to face him.  They were so close he could almost feel her breath on his face. 

He mimicked her. Resting on his side next to her. To others, they may look comical, but Luke certainly did not care.

“Ya know,” Her eyes shift behind him. “ OH MY GOD, THAT ONE LOOKS LIKE A SCYTHE!” She yelped and pointed to something behind him. He could only turn his head before he let out a laugh. 

“You're still one that?” He turns to her with moon-crescent eyes. The girl had a look of disbelief on her face.

“Yes, I'm still on that! You stole it and won't admit it!” Her finger poked his chest. He could only grab her wrist and pull her on top of him, shaking them both in laughter.

–

May 24th

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he says over his food. The girl pointed her fork at him.

“Yes, you do. this is like the paintbrushes and the bracelet. Where is my book.” She says. Luke just rolls his eyes as he has nothing to say. For once, this wasn't his fault. Yes he borrowed her paintbrushes once and forgot to give them back, and yes he's currently in possession of her bracelet, but he would never take her books. He's not a monster.

He leans over and takes a bite from her fork. The girl just huffs.

“I wasn't even near your room.” He defences himself. She has nothing to prove him wrong.

“I just have this feeling it was you. It's like my 6th sense.” She says again and looks into the distance. Intentionally avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, I don't know what to tell you. What would I even do with your book.”

“Read it.” He raises his eyebrows at her. 

“ Medical books?” He questions her. She just nods, as if any of this makes sense.

“Yeah, maybe you wanna steal my job too. Who knows.” She shrugs and returns to her food.

“I do not want-”

“Yes! Sorry for bothering you guys, but I found this book outside by the beach. And you're the only one I know that actually reads stuff like this.” The small Apollo kid places the book on the table and skips away.

The girl's gaze fixated on the book. Her tongue poking her cheek. Luke smirks before chuckling to himself.

“looks like your 6th sense is broken, sweetheart.”

“Oh shut up.”

–

May 31st

Luke was nervous, and he did not like it. He was used to making people nervous, not the other way around. So why was he fidgeting with his fingers? The little box in his pockets burned more and more every minute.

He was standing in the little clearing in the woods. Enough trees for them to have privacy but clear enough for them to stargaze again. He could hear the snap of a twig, making him turn around to the sound.

There she stood in front of him. In his eyes, she looked as much as any goddess could. he was seen if he ever met Aphrodite, she would resemble his dearest friend.

A smile spread across his face and she mimicked him.

“Grover told me to meet you here. He said it was an emergency. You don't look very emergent.” She joked and made her way to him. He let out a huff, but let her to the little blanket that was laid out on the floor.  They took their shoes off and sat down.

They both took half of a sandwich he stole from the kitchen today and looked at the stars again. Luke already learned that stargazing gives him time to gaze at her without her noticing much. Today he wasn't so careful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she says, swallowing the last bite of her food, her eyes not moving from the stars.

“Like what?” he cocks his head at her.

“Like I stole something from you.” 

“Because you did.” An offended gasp left her as she whipped her head from the stars to him. He just giggled at her expression.

“Excuse you?? I did not. That’s your speciality and we both know that!” She argued back. “There is nothing I could steal without you noticing.”

“But you did.” He says again, moving closer to her. She glares at him while she moves to sit in his lap. Frowning her eyes, she takes a breath to speak again, but Luke stops her by shaking his head.

“You, my little star, have stolen my heart.” He says, looking her straight in the eyes. Again before she can speak he interrupts her. “Also, I have something for you.”

He reaches into his pocket to pull out the little box. Her eyes were glued to it. He turned it around and opened it. Inside was absolutely nothing. Luke's eyes widened in shock and fear. Little whispers of no’s and panicked patting of his pockets. 

“What's wrong? Looking for something?” She says flashing her wrist at him. Luke didn't pay it much attention. He started to apologise and grabbed her arm. His palm lands on something cold. he stops and turns her wrist to his vision. 

There sat a bracelet with a scythe charm on it. the one that was supposed to be in his pocket. Frozen he stared at it before shifting his eyes at her. She just smiled at him.

“How?” He breathed out. She just laughed.

“I snatched it from you like a week ago. Surprised you didn't notice.” She says it with such ease, knowing she beat him in his own game. He can just shake his head.

His arm sneaked up to her neck as he pulled her to a kiss. She may have stolen his heart and her bracelet back, but from now on, he's gonna steal all the kisses he can.

[daisybianca]

pairing: lando norris x femalereader

summary: ruining Lando's live stream is your favorite thing to do when in the mood.

warnings: female masturbation, mention of sexual actions, cursing words

(a/n): lando's recent stream look. I'm unwell.

YOUR HEADPHONES WERE filled with the sweet melody of Taylor Swift's "London Boy" and then you remembered that in the next room of the house you really did have a London Boy waiting for you.

Your boyfriend had one of his usual streams, and it was always your choice to step away from the place where he was doing them and not take part in it. You didn't like the idea of giving fans more content about your relationship than there already was.

By changing the song of the playlist, you settled on something more freaky, like the wreeknd.

Hearing Lando's voice and loud laugh echoing from the next room, you opened the app on your phone and joined his live stream.

Your username was a random name that only Lando recognized.

God, he was so hot.

Messy curly hair, an unbuttoned white t-shirt, and grey plaid pants.

He had heard your wish to let his beard grow long, and you loved every moment of it. Watching the screen intently, listening to his strong accent through the device and from the adjacent wall, you felt your heart flutter loudly. Your jaw nearly hit the floor when you saw from the screen Lando laughing at something and pulling back, spreading his legs widly while bending his head back.

Swallowing, you decided to write a message in the comments that only he would recognize "Turn off the Stream and come over here. Im in the mood."

A few seconds later, he read it. He didn't say anything. He just smiled.

Again, you chose to write the same comment in case he didn't pay much attention to it the first time.

"I'm not shutting down the live. If anyone wants to tell me something, they can come here and tell me themselves."

You smiled and turned off your phone.

Is that how he wanted it? With games?

He asked and shall receive.

You got out of bed, opening your closet and wearing the most revealing and slutty piece of clothing you owned. You also put on a pair of high heels and began to walk slowly towards the next room.

The door was closed so you touched the handle and began to open it gently.

Two beautiful eyes met yours. Then they scanned you from head to toes.

Whatever Lando was trying to tell his viewers was now forever gone.

His jaw closed and he licked his lips. His eyes were on the verge of popping out of their sockets.

Bringing a finger to your lips, you murmued "Shhh."

You felt his eyes follow you as you closed the door and sat comfortably on the couch across from him.

You weren't, of course, visible on the camera. And your boyfriend did his best not to show his viewers the uncomfortable situation he was in. He kept talking, but you were sure he didn't understand what he was saying either.

You stopped looking at him and tried to forget the fact that you had to be discreet because thousands of people were somehow in the room with you.

Spreading your legs, you pushed your warm hand where you wished Lando's was right now.

You immediately shuddered at the very first contact. Twisting your body a little, you gave your boyfriend a better angle of your wet--dripping actually--spot.

His eyes never abandoned you. At one point, you heard him hissing plaid from his breath. "Fuck." His voice made you shudder. "Thats it." He said and closed the live show without saying anything else to his audience.

You stopped the movements and touches on your body and looked at him throwing the headphones on the chair and walking briskly over to you.

That's my boy.

"You want to fucking make me come in front of thousands of people? Huh?" He walked towards you and started unbuttoning his pants. You just smirked and bit your bottom lip. "Acting like a little brat, getting treated like one, right?" He grabbed your neck and forced you to him. After taking one huge taste of your lips, he let you down and removed his white t-shirt. "Open your legs. You're lucky I didn't choose to fuck you live, baby."

[folkwhoreberry]

All’s Fair In Love And War

luke castellan x apollo!reader

or... the one where you cut to the feeling

word count : 494

warning : mention of cuts, blood, and one sexual joke, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : the great war by taylor swift

🗡️🪽

“you know, you don’t have to make a habit out of getting injured just to come see me,” you say, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips as you dab antiseptic on the cut above luke’s eyebrow.

he winces, but grins right back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I got this scar for a noble cause.”

“uh-huh,” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “and what ‘noble’ cause was that? tripping over your own sword during capture the flag?”

he shoots you a mock glare. “hey, someone had to lead the charge. besides, the sword thing was… strategic. a distraction, you know?”

“right, of course. because nothing throws off the enemy like watching you faceplant into the dirt.” you gently press a bandage onto his cut, careful not to hurt him more.

luke chuckles, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “well, it worked, didn’t it? they didn’t see you sneaking up on them.”

“only because they spent half the game cringing over your ‘strategy,’” you say, shaking your head. “seriously, you’re going to get yourself killed one day.”

he reaches up, his hand warm as it covers yours. “not with you patching me up every time.”

“keep acting like this and I’ll leave you to bleed.” you threatened him, pinching his cheek as you move on to treat his next bruise, a deep cut on his arm that you previously bandaged tightly to stop the bleeding. you slowly and carefully removed the bandage from around his arm, frowning as you saw how bad it was.

“what’s that from?” you asked, setting the dirty bandage aside, picking up a cotton ball which you dipped in antiseptic and starting to clean up the dried blood from a round the cut, your other hand holding his arm tightly so that he won’t wiggle around too much. “auch! eh, the sword from when I fell down, I think…” he said, wincing as the alcohol dabbed a bit too close to his wound.

“dumbass…” you mumbled under you breath, wiping all the dried blood and gravel that made its way into his cut. “told ya I could distract them instead, at least I could’ve done it without getting too hurt.” you said, setting the dirty cotton aside, walking over to one of the drawers to retrieve a large bandaid. walking back over to luke, you opened the package, sticking the bandage to his wound after smearing some cream on it, rubbing the edges and around the cut with your thumbs to stick the bandaid to his skin properly.

“all done now, anything else I could help you with, mr. castellan?” you asked teasingly, standing between his legs as you looked him in the eyes and put your hands on his thighs, just above his knees. “yeah, you could help me with a problem…” he said with a smirk, holding your hand in his and moving it slowly to the zip of his pants.

“oh grow up, luke!”

————————————————————————————

a/n : not really what I wanted but I didn’t want to give luke copd or unstable angina so had to do trauma yay

[cherryflavoured7777]

It Might As Well Be Worth It For Once [h.c]

Summary: After a photo of you kissing your crush, Hazel Callahan, goes viral among students at your university, you try to navigate the backlash you receive on top of your newfound feelings for her.

Pairing: College!Hazel Callahan x College!fem!reader

Contains: reader sort of figuring out her sexuality, homophobia, explicit language, d slur, slut shaming, drinking, partying, violence, no explicit smut just heavy make-outs, scary ex-boyfriends, evil frat bros

word count: 3k

A/N: This is loosely inspired by Taylor Swift's song "Slut!" so listen if you want to set the mood!

Your first kiss with Hazel Callahan happened at a party, initiated by a simple dare. In the middle of a crowded kitchen, surrounded by sticky solo cups and cigarette smoke, you watched Hazel as she spoke. “Dare.” She stated to her brown-haired friend.

“Okay,” PJ starts and her eyes dart around the room,

“I dare you…” PJ’s eyes find you and she points her finger at your frame “to kiss her.”

“Real original, PJ,” Hazel remarks as she makes her way over to you.

At first, you didn't give it much thought, dismissing it as just a harmless dare amidst the alcohol-fueled chaos of the party. But as you followed through and Hazel's lips met yours, something in you shifted, and every sensation suddenly heightened. The taste of tequila on her tongue mixed with the smell of her sharp cologne made your head dizzy.

The kiss, though quick, left a new feeling that you couldn't forget. You were amazed at how in sync your movements were with each other, considering you barely knew Hazel. You’d seen her a couple of times in class, walking around campus in her stylish outfits, and at parties like these. She was friends with your roommate, Isabel, so she did run in the same social circle as you.

When Hazel eventually pulled away from the kiss, the absence of her touch left you wanting more. You leaned forward, instinctively chasing her lips. Embarrassment washed over you, reality kicking in, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of yourself. With the re-realization that it was just a game you were playing, you buried the feelings deep within your stomach, locking them away and deciding they should never be explored.

-

You found Hazel a few weeks later, outside one of the dorm buildings, returning home from another late night. That night, a couple of drinks deep, you summoned the courage to confess what had been consuming your thoughts. Her soft brown hair, her big blue eyes, her attractive scent, and how soft her lips were on yours.

Something felt different about your infatuation with Hazel, and you were dying to just be close to her again.

"I don’t know what it is about you, Hazel," you say, your back leaning against the side of the bricked building. "I’m never like this with anyone," you whisper, avoiding eye contact.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about our kiss, and I know that's ridiculous because it was just a stupid dare at a party." Hazel sensed your vulnerability in that moment. She took a step toward you and reached for your hand, gently playing with your fingers, which hung between both of you. As you rambled on, she stared and smiled at you, enjoying your attempt to express your feelings.

"Yeah?" She nodded at you, leaning in a bit closer with a cocky grin. "You liked it that much, huh?"

You avoided her gaze again, clearly growing more embarrassed.

"Well, I was never going to tell you this,” she sucked in a breath “But before the game started, I actually told PJ to dare me to kiss you. It was the only way I thought I was ever going to be able to." Her hand moved from your hand to your waist, squeezing gently, and her eyes landed on your lips. Her confession hung heavy in the air between you both.

Feeling a rush of boldness, you couldn't hold back any longer. You grabbed her by her shirt, slowly pulling her closer, and in a moment of sheer impulsiveness, you pressed your lips firmly against hers.

Your kiss deepened, the pressure between your lips gradually intensifying, the sensation giving you goosebumps. Hazel's lips were plush and inviting, just like you remembered. Her lips left yours for a moment before attaching themselves to your jaw, then your neck, sucking gently.

“Shit, Hazel.” You sighed and your back arched against the wall, already breathless.

Her hand on your waist pulled you closer, the touch gentle yet possessive. Your fingers instinctively wound into her hair, the strands soft and silky beneath your touch.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this since that night,” She says between kisses to your neck. “Want you so bad,” she whines.

Her lips found yours again, the kiss hot and passionate, fueled by the emotions that had been building between you. There was an urgency to the way your lips moved together, and you felt a soft sigh escape Hazel's lips. Your bodies pressed against each other, every inch of skin on fire from the contact.

What you didn’t notice was your ex-boyfriend's roommate, Tyler, emerged out of the dorm building's entrance. He recognized you after a minute and stared at the scene in front of him in complete shock, jaw slack. He pulled out his phone, capturing the moment with a camera click. Lost in the intensity of your kiss, neither of you had noticed him. He snickered at his discovery, feeling proud of this piece of information he was now sitting on.

-

In the days that followed, you and Hazel became inseparable, caught up in the intoxication of a budding romance and newfound feelings. Mundane moments were made ten times better just by her presence. You’d been in relationships before, but not like this.

Taking walks hand in hand, you found the quiet corners of your college town, finding comfort in how easy it was to be around each other.

Movie marathons turned into shared glances and stolen kisses, the screen flickering in the background as you explored this new person. Your connection was so intense, it often escalated into heavy makeout sessions in Hazel's dorm, losing yourselves in the heat of the moment.

You were lying in bed, your head resting on Hazel's chest while her arm encircled you. The soft glow from Hazel's laptop illuminated the room, displaying a scene where two characters were kissing in a pool.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you said.

Hazel's hand gently rubbed your shoulder. “Do what, hm?”

“Make out in a pool. It just seems so… liberating.” You shifted in her arms to gaze up at her.

“How is making out while standing in a body of water any different than doing it on land?” She laughed, looking down at you.

“You'll find out when we do it one day,” you said with a smirk. “It’s gonna blow your mind.”

“I don’t know, I think our kisses are already pretty mind-blowing. But I’ll hold you to it,” she replied, her eyes fixed on your lips.

Just then, your phone rang, and it was a call from Isabel. You answered it, still comfortably lazing on Hazel as she absentmindedly stroked your hair.

“Hey Isabel, what's up?”

“I just wanted to check on you and see how you're doing…”

“I’m fine, I’m just at Hazel’s, I’ll be back soon though.”

“Have you seen the photo? Of you and Hazel?” She blurts out.

You sit up, your heart beating frantically as you press the phone closer to your ear. Hazel looks at you, her expression shifting from contentment to concern, sensing the change in your demeanor.

"What photo, Isabel?" you ask, your voice tight with worry.

"It's on Instagram," Isabel replies, her tone heavy with concern. "Someone posted a picture of you and Hazel, and the comments… they're awful. Homophobic slurs, slut-shaming… I thought you should know."

A lump forms in your throat, and you glance at Hazel, who grips your hand reassuringly, silently offering her support. "I haven't seen it," you admit, your voice shaky. "But thanks for letting me know."

"I reported the comments, but I don't know how long it'll take for them to be taken down," Isabel continues, her voice filled with empathy. "I'm here for you, okay? Don't let those ignorant people get to you." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"Thanks, Isabel," you say, your voice quivering. "I appreciate your support. I'll talk to you later, okay?”

"Of course," Isabel replies, her voice softening. "I’ll see you later tonight.”

With trembling hands, you grabbed your phone to see it for yourself.

There it was - the innocent moment captured in a snapshot, now tainted by the cruelty of strangers. As you scrolled through the comments, your heart pounded in your chest, each hateful word striking like a physical blow.

The pain intensified with every comment, echoing the doubts that had been gnawing at the corners of your mind. Hazel peered over your shoulder, her expression a mix of anger and concern.

"Ignore them," she urged, her voice soft yet determined. "They don't know us”

But the words had already burrowed deep within you, festering like a poison. A sense of overwhelming shame washed over you, overpowering Hazel's words. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in, and in a desperate attempt to escape, you grabbed your jacket and phone, your hands trembling as you stuffed it into your pocket.

"I can't stay here," you muttered, your voice strained, your eyes avoiding Hazel's gaze. "I need to get away from all of this."

Hazel reached out, her fingers brushing against your arm, her eyes pleading. "Please, don't run out like this," she implored, her voice cracking with emotion.

"I can't stay here," you repeated, your voice cracking as you met Hazel's gaze, filled with self-doubt. "We shouldn't see each other anymore." The words hung heavily between you, an unbearable admission of defeat. You turned away, unable to face the look in Hazel's eyes, and made your way to the door.

"Wait," Hazel pleaded, her voice raw with emotion, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

The door creaked shut behind you, sealing off the warmth and safety of the room you had shared with Hazel. Tears blurred your vision as you hurried down the dimly lit corridor, the echoes of your footsteps a haunting reminder of the distance growing between you and her.

-

It had been a month since you left Hazel in her dorm room. A miserable month to say the least. You felt so guilty for hurting her, but were also dealing with the hurt you felt from your privacy being so rudely invaded. Not to mention the straight-up awful comments you both received. But tonight, you were at a party you had reluctantly agreed to go to. Isabel and her girlfriend Josie convinced you that you needed to get out of your head and let loose.

Flamingo pink and aquamarine neon lights cast an ambiance on the frat house walls. The floor was sticky and the speakers were playing a rap song you didn’t know.

“Dude, we’re so young, you have your whole life ahead of you to fall in love and date hot people,” Isabel said, raising her glass to you. “Like, being this young is art. Cheers to that.” Isabel clinks her shot glass to yours. You tip your head back and shoot the tequila, burning your throat as it goes down. You needed any excuse to take a shot right now.

"I’m just going to go get us some more drinks and find Josie, okay?" Isabel gives you a reassuring look, and you nod before she disappears toward the bar. You do your best to make it look like you’re busy without your friend there, opening your phone, turning your brightness down, and scrolling through the calendar and weather app hoping no one can see over your shoulder.

“Well would you look who it is” You hear a familiar, sinister voice come from behind you. Great, it's your ex-boyfriend. Quite literally the last person on planet Earth you want to be standing face to face with right now.

“What could you possibly want right now, Josh.” You say deadpan, genuinely annoyed to be in his presence.

You and Josh had dated for four months. It was your typical college relationship, but there was always something missing, and you couldn't quite figure out what it was. He wanted sex, but you never felt quite ready to do it yet, at least not with him. Four months with no sex for a typical frat guy like Josh was absolute torture for him, so he went looking elsewhere. You ended it when you found him in bed with a brunette from the nursing program.

You can smell his mint gum as he cockily chews it and leans closer to you. “You come here to make out with more dykes, huh? You know, I always thought you were a prude, considering you never gave it up. Turns out your just a horny freak for pussy.”

His words sting. Hot tears brim at the bottom of your lash line. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, but you’ve never been good at standing up for yourself in these situations.

“Fucking slut.” He spits, even closer to your face than he was a moment ago. He has you cornered against the wall now, your blood boiling with rage and your head spinning with shame.

In the dim light, you see a hand adorned with silver rings firmly grip onto his shoulder. Before he could react, he was yanked backward by the other figure, a swift and forceful movement that left him disoriented. The punch landed sharply, the impact reverberating through his body.

Hazel.

Her eyes met his for a moment, before she turned toward you, leaving him shocked.

Holy shit.

You stare at Hazel, stunned, your gazes locked. Bright, red blood pours from your ex-boyfriend's nose.

“What the fuck?” His hands fly up to his face. “Is this your little girlfriend?” He laughs humourlessly, pointing to Hazel. “Real fucking cute. Yeah, you’re dead’ He says as he launches toward her, only to be pulled back by another group of arms, Isabel and Josie.

“Guys! Go! We’ll take care of him”

Hazel wastes no time and grabs your hand, her fingers entwining with yours in a reassuring grip. You run alongside her, the thumping music fading as you descend the stairs and navigate the chaotic kitchen of the large frat house. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation fueling your steps.

You don’t know if it's the slight buzz from earlier or the intoxicating lovesickness for the girl in front of you that continues to propel your feet forward, but you decide to just go with it. Hazel leads you through the crowd, weaving in between sweaty bodies and flashing lights.

As you step into the backyard, the cool night air hits your skin, and the scene before you unfolds like something out of a movie. A huge moonlit swimming pool stretches out, its surface rippling with the movements of people swimming in their underwear, their laughter and splashes filling the air. Realization strikes you, and you know exactly what Hazel is about to do.

With an impish grin, she turns to you, "Ready?" she asks, her voice drowned out by the music but clear in your ears. She hovers her mouth to the shell of your ear. “Just trust me, please” she whispers.

You nod, feeling a surge of adrenaline, and without another word, Hazel tugs you toward the edge of the pool.

With a shared glance, you leap into the water together, the cool embrace of the pool enveloping you. As you resurface, you find Hazel's eyes, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the pool. She looks so perfect like this, you almost forgot how stupidly into her you were.

“You look really pretty” She finally says.

“Hazel, I’m so sorry. That was so fucked up leaving you in your room like that.”

“I tried to call you,” she says, her voice tinged with disappointment.

“I know, I was too much of a coward to face you, I always bury everything that makes me uncomfortable and avoid it forever. It's unfair, you need someone who can confront those issues head-on, right away.”

“What if all I need is you?” she murmurs, her words hanging in the air, heavy with vulnerability and hope.

“Hazel…”

Your heart swells at her comment, you wanted nothing more than to hear those words come from her mouth, but your guilt makes you hesitant.

She reaches out for your hand, pulling you closer through the water, her touch reassuring. Her hands gently encircle your waist, you instinctively raise yours to rest around her neck. It feels like magnets snapping back into place,

"I don’t want to hide anymore. I don't want to be the one who runs away from difficult conversations. I want to be the one who faces challenges with you, who stands by your side no matter what." you say.

Her eyes soften, and she gives you a small smile, her grip on your back tightening. "I believe you," she says. Her voice is filled with trust.

"I mean it, Hazel," you continue, your voice steady.

She lifts your legs in both of her hands, effortlessly supporting you as you wrap them around her body beneath the water. The sensation is intimate, a silent declaration of trust and connection. Suspended in the water, your eyes meet hers, and in that moment, there's a shared understanding that goes beyond words.

Your foreheads meet each other, resting gently against one another, and your breathing hitches in anticipation as Hazel speaks. “So, are we still on for that mind blowing pool kiss?” she asks, a playful grin tugging at her lips.

A mischievous smile curves your lips in response. "Well, if they’re gonna call me a slut," you say, your voice low and sultry, "it might as well be worth it for once. I say we give them a show."

With unspoken agreement, you close the distance between your lips, capturing Hazel's mouth in a heated, passionate kiss. The world around you fades away, and all that exists is the electricity between you, the taste of her lips, and the water around your bodies.

You feel hopeful for the future, for where this could go. For where your heart might lead you. As you both pull away, breathless and smiling, you exchange a knowing glance, understanding that something has shifted between you, and you were exactly where you were meant to be.

-

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

a/n: thanks so much for reading !! this is my second fic ever so again pls forgive me if there are any mistakes. I definitely want to write more for hazel though so I am so open to requests if you ever want to send one <3333

[cryptictales]

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖... (𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

| ・゜゜・．satisfying a request for my best friend, so she can live out her fantasyyyyyy, here’s to you babe. Enjoy.

| pairings; dean x reader

| warnings; insults, aggression, touching, foreplay, smut, after-care

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

“Can you for ONCE, make up your mind on just one fucking thing.”

“First off, dean if you want to keep that tongue of yours, I suggest you watch your tone with me.” she rolled her eyes, returning her attention back to the radio, flipping through the stations.

“How about we just not listen to anything?” Sam chimed in from the backseat.

“Shut up assclown.” They both responded in sync. Not even realizing it.

“Oh, absolutely NOT.”

“Don’t you start dean; Taylor is a goddess.”

“I do not care, this is my car, my music, I will not be forced to listen to this shit.”

She ignored his protests, turning up the dial on the volume as she sang loudly to the lyrics. Knowingly it was just annoying the older Winchester even more.

Once they arrived back at the bunker, his ears radiated from the torture of listening to ‘Taylor Swift’ for the last hour. (Y/N) was still humming to the tune of the last song from one of her favorite albums by Taylor. Sam quickly scurried inside to avoid further arguing between them.

Dean made his way to the kitchen, grasping a cold bottle of beer from the fridge. Popping the cap and chugging the liquid down. (Y/N) walking into the kitchen she brushed past him, grabbing a cold Pepsi.

“Why do you have to purposely keep provoking me?”

“I don’t do anything, that sounds like a ‘you’  problem d-e-a-n-o” she taunted, knowing she was just digging further under his skin. Something about his aggressive nature was attractive, but she never admitted that in the open.

Dean would finish off his beer, his green hues never leaving her. She was annoying but feisty, it was attractive, but he ALSO wouldn’t admit that in the open. He would turn to lean against the countertop. “Pft, brat,” he mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“What?”

“You want to try saying that to my face?” she turned towards him, placing the can down on the counter. She walked over to him until she was now standing directly in front of him.

Dean licked his lips as he arched a brow, he leaned in slightly closer as he mouthed the words this time slower. “I called you a b-r-a-t” he spoke, his eyes looking her up and down for a moment. The deadly silence between them, although the tension was evident.

“Have you guys seen my---oh nope never mind.” Sam beginning to walk into the kitchen, and then immediately turned around to head back to his bedroom.

“ You talk a big game Dean, but we both know you don’t act on shit.” she bit down on her bottom lip.

Dean had enough of her sassy shit for one night, he grasped her by the throat yanking her up against his lips. The tongue delved between her lips and into her mouth. He would turn her around and force her up onto the counter. His other hand moved up her thigh. Fingers bruising against her flesh. (Y/N) let out a breathy moan when his lips traveled from her own onto her neck, his tongue swirling over her skin and purpling the skin beneath his lips.

(Y/N) pushing him slightly off, her breathing increasing as she wasted no time to slide off her shirt, Dean following her lead as he threw his shirt to the ground. His hands moved back to grasp both sides of her face again, smashing lips together, his hand venturing down from her face to her neck, down her backside to unclasp her bra, letting it fall with ease. His lips moved from her own again to wrap around the nipple of her breasts. Pulling and tugging at it, his other hand pinching at her other nipple, sending stimulation throughout her body. He removed his hand, as he moved to pop the button of her shorts, sliding his hand inside with ease. Meeting the coated wet lace, moving it to the side to see the damage he had caused. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Oh, shut up, and just fuck me.” she protested, as her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing along his neckline. She felt his fingers meet her numb, flicking over it made her wince, biting down on her bottom lip as she arched her back slightly. Dean groaning, his erection building behind his jeans, aching to be released and inside of her. (Y/N) would decide to busy her hands working to undo his belt buckle, then his jeans, using her legs to shift them down. Dean worked his fingers, hooking two inside of her while his thumb rubbed over her sensitive numb.

After a few moments of working her up, Dean was over it, he would remove his hand grasping her thighs again as he forced her up to wrap her legs around him, and he would move to slam her down onto the table. Removed his jeans and then boxers fully, ripping off her shorts and then underwear. Climbing on top of her, he would delve his head down to capture her lips again, one hand moving to grasp her thigh pulling it up and around his waist, his other hand moving to line himself up with her entrance.

He was greeted with a welcoming wetness, sliding the tip slowly inside of her. Worked himself to stretch her walls to get used to his length. “Oh fuck.” She moaned out, “I can go slower if you want?” “No, it’s perfect,” she spoke breathlessly. He did this for a few more moments before she started to rock her hips, wanting him to go faster. Dean getting the idea, as he moved to place both her arms above her head, he would thrust himself deep inside of her, feeling her walls enclose around his hardened length. The pair shared quite a few moans and groanings of pleasure, the table rocked as Dean picked up the pace, his hips rolling into her with ease. Skin clapping against one another, “Oh fuck baby, oh fuck right there—” (Y/N) felt him hit her g-spot perfectly, her cries growing louder, not even caring about who else could hear them. The tension was only climbing between them, which was bound to happen.

The damn of her orgasm exploding around him, once her arms were released, she clawed her nails into the sides of his biceps, leaving her own marking. Dean felt the ocean of her orgasm submerge his member. He would make her ride out her high, moving to take her other leg and placing them both up and against her chest, as he pounded deeper inside of her. Feeling his hardened length throbbing for a release, he moaned out when he finally felt his spurt of hot cum shoots deep inside of her, filling her up to the core.

The sweat dripped from his forehead, as he leaned down after releasing her legs, capturing the taste of her salty tasted lips against his own. His hand moving to grasp her throat again, exchanging tongues, he would part his lips from her own.

Gathering their clothes, Dean needed to clean up the mess they made. Knowing Sam would avoid the kitchen for a good couple of days if he knew what had taken place. He would grasp her hand as he moved to take her back to his bedroom. “You can uh shower, and sleep here. I’ll take the couch.”

“No—uh I mean, can you stay?” she asked in a more relaxed tone of voice. Dean would accept, that after the showers of washing off the moment they had together, they both crawled into the bed. He moved to turn off the table side lamp, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into his chest.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑠; @lucishellhound @isabellacugliari-blog ☽︎ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

[talkdutchtome]

Glitch- chapter one

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

warning . . . tbd )

series masterlist . . . available here )

a/n . . .i wanted to thank everyone for the amazing feedback i got on my teaser. i hope the first chapter isn't too much of a let down after how long i made you all wait, i promise the wait for the next chapter won't be as long. also max will be in the next chapter )

Y/N was completely and unequivocally in love, the kind of love that made you feel like you were 14 years old in your room crying to Taylor Swift’s ‘You Belong With Me’, the kind of love that hurt more than it felt good. When she moved to London, desperate to get out of her sleepy town in the English countryside, and applied for a job to be the personal assistant to somebody who was then a relatively unknown professional footballer; she could have never imagined that this is where she’d be 5 years later. Y/N had joined Mason Mount’s team just as he had joined Derby County on lone and due to the fact that the man had just moved to a brand-new city away from all of his friends and family, the pair quickly bonded and developed a relationship that became more than one of an employer and his employee; they actually became friends. So, when Mason moved back to Chelsea at the end of his loan and they gave him the chance to upgrade to an assistant with much more experience working with premier league football players, he turned it down; likewise, when Y/N was scouted by another footballer who was offering more money and better hours, she also turned it down. They were happy. They were friends, maybe even best friends. Why then did Y/N consistently feel like something was missing? For months she couldn’t put her finger on it, couldn’t understand why she wasn’t completely happy, it wasn’t until one day when they were sat having one of their infamous movie nights that she understood what it was she was feeling. Despite Mason living in a penthouse apartment in the middle of London worth millions of pounds, their movie nights always took place at her flat, a much smaller one-bedroom place in, to put it bluntly, a much rougher area of the city. They would sit together on her sofa and put on a movie, (usually a cheesy late 90’s to early 2000’s romcom). And one day, she found herself watching Mason rather than the movie; she watched him watching the movie intently, giggling at the funny bits, tearing up at the sad bits, and she realized that she loved him.  

Every so often she thought that she should maybe put some space between herself and the footballer, to try and move on from her feelings for him, but then he would do something that would reel her back in, something that would make her think that maybe she had a chance. He would fall asleep cuddling her on the couch, he would dance a little bit too close to her at a party, he would seek her out after winning a big game and hug her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. But then she would overhear him telling Ben and Reece about his latest conquest or she would get a text message from him 15 minutes before he was due to come to hers for a movie night cancelling because he had a date. To put it plainly, she simply just did not know where she stood with her best friend. Despite sometimes feeling like there could be a chance of more between them, she never said a thing to Mason, valuing their friendship too much to risk it; so instead she just went about her life, following her best friend and the man she loved around the country, always hiding how she truly felt, or attempting too at least. There had been a few times when she was spending time with Mason and his friends, that one of them would catch her looking at Mason. There was one time when Ben actually asked her about it, asked if there was anything going on between the two friends, she had told him that there wasn’t, of course, but she could tell from his facial expression that he didn’t believe her. Truth be told, a lot of their mutual friends were worried about the two of them. 

So, when Mason and Y/N walked into the club together despite living in completely different areas of the city, Ben and Reece exchanged a look, wondering how their teammate could be so clueless. The rest of the night they watched the way the pair interacted; they watched the way that Y/N would look up at Mason with such love in her eyes whilst Mason looked at her like he would look at any other friend. They were caught between a rock and a hard place, they wanted to tell Mason what they knew so that he could stop leading her on, but they didn’t want to betray Y/N by telling her secret. Even though she was Mason’s friend more than anyone else's, they both really liked her and wanted to protect her from the hurt that her situation with Mason would inevitably bring. But when they caught sight of Mason sat with his arm thrown around the shoulders of the girl, periodically leaning in and whispering in her ear, they knew that they needed to saw something; and when Y/N walked up to the bar and got chatting to somebody on the way back, Ben knew that this was his opportunity. 

“Mason why did you and Y/N come in together, aren’t your places on opposite sides of the city?” Ben asked his best friend already knowing the answer to his question. Despite the fact that Y/N worked for Mason as his assistant, the pair were close, very close; so when they arrived to the party in the same car, Ben didn’t have to wonder too hard about the reason why. “Oh, she was at mine for a movie night last night and she was too tired to go home so she stayed.” Mason told his friend matter-of-factly, not seeing what the issue was or why his friend in front of him looked so annoyed. Even if you took away the widely inappropriateness of an employer having his employee stay at his house, there was the small issue of the fact that Y/N was madly in love with Mason and had been for years now. As much as she tried her best to keep it hidden, the only person in their circle that didn’t seem to know about it was Mason himself. Ben and Reece had a conversation a few days before, discussing whether they should tell Mason as from an outside perspective, even if it was unintentional, he did seem to be leading Y/N on; they both knew their friend extremely well, so they knew that he didn’t have the same feelings that she had for him and they knew that if Mason knew the full story there are aspects of his relationship with her that he might change.  

“Look mate,” Ben started, unsure of exactly what to say but knowing he needed to say something. “I think you should know that Y/N has feelings for you” Mason’s brows furrowed, completely taken aback by his friends' blunt honesty. “What? No are you sure?” he asked him, truly hoping that he was mistaken or playing some kind of prank. “I’m 100% sure, it’s obvious to be honest with you mate. You can see it in her eyes when she looks at you, she really truly loves you. Having her stay at your place and being that close to her, it’s going to make her think that someday you two could be more than friends, so if that’s not the case then you really need to reconsider doing things like that as it isn’t fair on her. Y/N’s a good girl, you know that she deserves to be happy.” Ben’s words make Mason’s head spin. Y/N was more to him than just his employee, she was one of his closest friends, but he really didn’t see her as anything but a friend. “Oh, fuck Ben what should I do?” Mason asked with his brain completely frazzled at this point, 15 minutes ago he was feeling great, he had just had a great day with one of his best friends and then then he came to a party to blow off some steam after a very stressful week, but now it seemed like everything had come crashing down. “I think you need to speak to her, make it clear that you value her friendship but you don’t see her as anything else, let her down gently.” he told Mason who simply nodded before starting to walk towards the girl in question who was at the bar talking to one of the other players girlfriends., the second Ben realized what he was trying to do he put a hand out to stop him from going over there, causing Mason to look back at him with a puzzled expression. “Maybe telling her right this minute isn’t the best idea though mate, considering you’re in public. Not to mention the fact we’ve all got that trip planned for the Spanish Grand Prix in a few days, maybe you should wait until after that. If things don’t go well that could make the whole trip so awkward.” Ben pleaded at his friend, but he could see on Mason’s face that his words were going in one ear and out the other. “Fine go, but be nice to her and you better not ruin the race for everyone” he relented, taking his arm off of his friend and letting him walk towards the unsuspecting girl.  

“Hey Y/N, can we talk?” Mason asked with no regard for the fact that she was already deep in conversation with somebody else. His bluntness combined with the pained look on his face made her recognize instantly that whatever he wanted to talk about wasn’t likely to be lighthearted. She hesitantly followed the man as he gestured for her to come along to a quieter part of the bar. Before she could ask what was going on, Mason had already asked her a question that made her stomach sink - “Do you have feelings for me?” She had absolutely no idea how to answer his question, of course she knew the answer; she had been pining after him for years at this point, but she just wasn’t ready for him to know that yet. “Will you please just answer my question?” he almost demanded, his harsh tone making her freeze. Looking up at her best friend with tear filled eyes she muttered the last thing he wanted to hear - “Yes”. Her voice was so faint that it didn’t come out as anything more than a whisper but to Mason it was the loudest thing he had ever heard. Y/N had imagined having this conversation with Mason so many times, imagined herself finally telling him that she loved him but in all her fantasies, in all her daydreams, he had never flinched like he had done just now. “Mason I -” she started but stopped in her tracks when she saw tears forming in her best friend’s eyes. “How could you do this Y/N, why would you ruin our friendship like this?” he asked her in genuine disbelief. Mason watched the girl stood in front of him stumble over her words, clearly not expecting to be asked that question, before putting her almost full glass down on the table and running out of the bar. 

In all of the daydreams she had had where Mason found out she loved him, he didn’t react like that in any of them, even the ones where he told her he didn’t reciprocate her feelings he was never that harsh, never that heartless. Y/N was nothing if not a realist, she truly didn’t expect him to come to her and tell her that he had always loved him too but she at least thought he would try to be nice about it, try to protect her feelings as much as possible, tell her that no matter what they would always be friends. Instead, he basically told her that their friendship was over, and she was the one responsible. She didn’t even have to wonder how Mason found out about it either, she knew Ben knew and she had also seen Mason and Ben talking moments before he came storming over to her. More than anything she just felt stupid; stupid for believing that somebody like Mason would ever love somebody like her, stupid for putting one of her most beloved friendships on the line over a schoolgirl crush, stupid for running away instead of explaining herself to him.  

“Y/N, are you okay” she heard a voice come from above her, breaking her train of thought. She was sat on the floor outside the club, staring into space clearly lost in thought, looking certifiably insane. Looking up she saw Reece James stood before her. There was no question that Reece knew what had happened but even still Y/N wasn’t sure if she should talk to him about it. Whilst she was closest to Reece out of all of Mason’s friends and teammates and she would consider him to be a friend, he was still Mason’s friend before anything else. There was also a good chance that anything she does tell him would be repeated to Mason. As if he could read her mind, he spoke again “You know you can speak to me right, I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m sorry that Ben told him by the way” he sat down on the street next to her. “It’s okay I don’t blame him; I understand that he wanted to protect his friend” her words were met with Reece shaking his head, “No actually I think he wanted to protect you” he said causing her brows in confusion. “He tho- We thought that the way he acted with you was a bit unfair, doing things that were giving you hope that you could be more than friends. Mason’s not a bad guy and he wouldn’t do that stuff on purpose, so we wanted to make sure he knew what he was doing.” Y/N looked up at the man's face, his serious expression laced with sincerity; she could tell that he was telling the truth and that he and Ben truly cared about her and wanted to protect her from hurt. “Thank you, Reece, make sure to tell Ben that I’m not annoyed at him for saying anything.”  

“Of course, I will. I know we only know you though Mason but you’re our friend as well okay, remember that.” He said before he threw his arm around her pulling her into a hug. “So what do you think is going to happen now?” he asked her. “Oh I really don’t know, he seemed pretty mad at me. I think I’ll probably leave the Grand Prix this weekend though, give things a chance to cool off”  

“What no you can’t do that, you love F1 and it’s your first opportunity to go to a race, you can’t miss that because of him. Worst case scenario, go and stick with me. You can’t give up those sweet paddock passes, what if you meet a cute driver eh?” he said jabbing his fingers into her sides playfully teasing her in an attempt to get her to smile. “I’ll think about it” she said, attempting to fight the smile on her face but to no avail. “You going to come back in or are you going to head home? We probably look crazy sat out here like this” he asked her and she paused thinking about it, she thought about going back in and trying to talk to Mason, to try and fix everything. After a moment she shook her head “No I think I should give him some space” Recce nodded understanding her decision before walking over to a cab and giving them her address along with enough money in cash to cover her journey three times over. “You get home safe okay” she nodded before thanking him for being to kind to her tonight. Just before she had the chance to close the door he spoke again “Y/N wait, are you going to be okay? I could call someone if you need?” Again, she found herself smiling at the care Reece had shown her. “No, I’ll be okay, I always am” 

Tag list-

@nightlockcornucopia @jaydensluv @girlytots19 @formula1mount @alwaysclassyeagle @aundercover @sofifiia @dessxoxsworld @lpab @lorarri @thelovehypothesis @torrie421 @ironmaiden1313 @celesteblack08 @glow-ish @urfavouritef1girly

[munariplans]

cowboy like me | felicia hardy

synopsis: inspired by taylor swift’s 'cowboy like me', for the black cat, felicia hardy.

felicia hardy x reader

word count: 3.1k words

a/n: trying to branch out into new characters in the mcu, and black cat has always been one of my favourites. hope you guys enjoy x

and the tennis court was covered up, with some tent-like thing and you asked me to dance, but i said, "dancing is a dangerous game"

in the years you have orbited your life around taking from the rich, you knew that felicia hardy was never one to be trusted. she was a con artist, a professional thief, been in the game longer than you were. you could never take her words seriously. 

now, the both of you sitting in the wedding of a millionaire you had robbed dry several times before, 

overlooking the stunning views of the manhattan skyline and the contents of the fellow wedding guests’ wallets in your pockets, you were repeating the very same sentence you always told yourself whenever felicia tried distracting you. don’t let her even try. 

“come on, let’s dance,” she whined for the umpteenth time. she had taken her prized jewels, you took your fancy watches. the one-off agreement of the pact you had made to work together just a month ago had been occurring more frequently lately, and it was sending you a bit on edge, to be honest. 

“for what, felicia?” 

she pouted, rolling over to absentmindedly trace her hands along your suit. you pulled her away. “it’s sunset, it’s the asshole’s wedding, it’s romantic.”

“yeah, but we are not lovers,” you quipped, sitting straighter to get a better look at the sunset she mentioned. new york really had the best sunsets. “and dancing is a dangerous game for us to play.”

“scared of catching feelings for me?”

you flicked your nimble fingers on her forehead, as felicia yelped. “never, black cat.”

oh, i thought, this is gonna be one of those things now, i know, i'm never gonna love again

you never should have taken her hand. you never should have accepted the dance with her. you should have known it was not going to end well. 

yet, with felicia’s body flushed against yours, her lips dangerously travelling up and down your neck, hands roaming the lithe muscles on your body, you found it difficult to resist such advances from the woman. 

when her lips met yours that night, you knew the watches you had kept in the slit of your own dress was taken, along with your heart, too. 

that was years ago. now, you knew you were never going to love anyone like you loved her, ever again. 

i’ve got some tricks up my sleeve, takes one to know one you're a cowboy like me

“feliciaaaa!” you screamed after her, chasing her through midtown as her laughter rang in your ears and the jewels and watches she had taken dancing in her priceless designer bag. 

she had conned you once again. this time, she had tried out a new method; seduction.

yet, you found yourself still smiling as you caught up to her later, tying her down while you took off with her jewels this time. it was her turn to cuss you out for being able to spot when she was tired, and where her weaknesses were. 

never wanted love, just a fancy car

the jewels rested beautifully on the curve of your collarbones as you slung your arm around the new billionaire you had conned to take you home for the night. he was grinning stupidly, you were grinning in victory, as he took you in to his ferrari, carefully revving the engine and driving so fast you thought your heart was going to stop. 

you never needed anyone else. just the company of older, rich men, their riches, and yourself was enough. you could live forever like this. 

now I'm waiting by the phone, like i'm sitting in an airport bar you had some tricks up your sleeve, takes one to know one

“just dinner at her place. dinner. nothing more,” you nervously repeated to yourself, pacing around felicia’s apartment block. flowers in hand, waiting for her call, you hated how she suddenly made you feel anxious about your actions, and how you were going to act around her. 

“come up, will you?” you heard a voice from the balcony, and shot your head up in horror. “i’ve been watching you pace back and forth for the past ten minutes.” 

felicia stood by the door as you came, in a short dress that definitely was not usually worn for a simple dinner at her place. the black accentuated her features, one of the rare few times you had caught her without her hair tied in a ponytail, clear goggles around her eyes. 

“you look…pretty,” you breathed. she laughed, almost mockingly at you. 

“thanks,” she nodded towards the flowers, “those for me?” 

“of course.” 

you handed them over, and as felicia took one whiff of them, she spotted something just within. hidden in plain sight of the stalks of roses. 

the jewels you had stolen from her that one heist. returned to its “rightful” owner. 

felicia’s heart tugged with warmth, as she looked back up at you, before pulling you in for a kiss on your cheek. 

“thieves’ honour.” 

“takes one to know one.” 

you're a cowboy like me, perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear

the black cat’s finger outstretched, she was pointing at the man trying to strike up conversation with the owner of the art gallery. you recognised him as a private investor you had swindled once before. 

“won’t work on him again,” you replied to her suggestion, turning your gaze to a woman standing by herself instead, overlooking the balcony. her hair was blonde like felicia’s, and she looked no older than you were by a few years. felicia also noticed that she was undeniably good-looking. 

“no,” she said sharply, fingers directing your chin back to face her, “you’re not doing her.”

a hint of a smirk made it’s way up to your lips. “jealous, hardy?”

“and if i say i am?”

“then i’ll know you’re lying,” you held her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckle, before making your way over to the woman, “i don’t mean enough for you to get jealous.”

felicia bit her lip at your comment. that wasn’t true. silently, under her breath she whispered, “you are all that, and more.”

like it could be love, it could be the way forward only if they pay for it

“and to what i owe the pleasure of your company tonight?” the very same woman said into the dark, her chest still heaving with heavy breaths and the marks of your teeth left on them. the room smelled of sex and deceit, as you began picking up your clothes, her jewellery and the details to the vault of her private art collection already slipped inside.

you smirked, sneaking back a look at the naked woman staring at you with lust-hooded eyes. she really did look a little like felicia. didn’t feel like her, though. you rarely ever slept with the people you swindle now, not since you had started seeing felicia casually. you wondered if felicia had begun making a deeper impact in your life than you thought she would. 

“...and what would be the price for more…company?” the woman had gotten up then, huskily whispering in your ear, her arms encircling your waist to try to bring you back to bed. 

but you had already gotten more than you needed. you were no longer interested in her anymore. 

“i’ll text you my bank details if you want more of this…anytime…anywhere.”

you called felicia later on that night, and you swore you enjoyed yourself more in the few hours the both of you spent plotting on the art vault’s robbery, than the whole night in the company of another woman. 

you're a bandit like me eyes full of stars, hustling for the good life never thought i'd meet you here

felicia had fallen asleep in your dining room, one knee lifted up on your dining chair to support the weight of her head and arms as it lolled forward, her soft snores filling the silence of the room. blueprints of the vault were carefully laid across your large dining table, the both of you had spent the better part of the week plotting and scrawling across plans on stealing the works inside. 

you were laid back in your own chair, taking a swig of the expensive wine she had bought to thank you for giving her the opportunity to join you in the heist, and swimming beyond the maroon that was sliding down your throat, you thought of her.

felicia hardy, the black cat. the daughter of the former black cat, who she told you taught her to never settle for second-best. who worked harder than anyone you knew to get what she wanted. who was slowly taking up a space in your heart that no one else ever had. 

all that she had been through, the hardships she had endured that mirrored your own, she knew you like no other. she understood, and she never judged. she was just as hungry as you were for success. you just never thought that you could get along, much less fall for her, in your stupid, stupid quest to hustle for a better life for yourself. 

she was trouble. but in that moment, she was nothing more than felicia hardy, not the black cat, not the thief she had proclaimed herself to be. felicia hardy was in your t-shirt that she had borrowed because she had volunteered to stay over, and hair tied up in a messy bun that framed the features of her face perfectly. she didn’t have her goggles on with her, didn’t have the skin-tight bodysuit to help her in heists and her criminal activities, and yet, she managed to look even more beautiful, if possible. 

you sighed, knowing this was not going to end well. yet, when you looked back at her, a hint of a smile appeared on her face. a good dream, perhaps. 

felicia looked cold. you stood up to fetch a blanket from your room, and draped it over her when you got back, tucking the ends under her chin so it wouldn’t slip off. 

when your back was turned, her smile grew even wider in appreciation. 

it could be love, we could be the way forward and i know i'll pay for it

“why didn’t you let me go?! why the fuck did you hold me back?!” felicia had practically screamed, shaking you as the rain beat down on the both of you, minutes right after you had tore her away from her chase of the guard running with the keys to the vault. 

in return, you were even angrier that she was so stupid, so naive. “because he was running straight to the police! you wouldn’t have been able to escape all of them, all at once! and the cops there were under fisk’s payroll, you know this. you would’ve died, felicia!”

“and why do you care so much if i did?!”

her question left you stunned. at a loss for words and your mouth agape, felicia felt your arms release their grip on her own body, as you stepped back. 

the rain beat down harder, if possible. somewhere, lightning had struck a nearby building that caused her to jump. but you were unphased.

you knew why, and so did she. only, the both of you were too afraid to admit the truth, because felicia knew she would have done the same if she were in your position. 

and the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

with the authorities now breathing down your necks due to the failed heist, felicia saw, and felt you slipping away like never before. 

you had disappeared from existence so many times before, it was what made your operation so successful each time, but this time, you being gone left a gaping hole in her heart that she knew none could fix. 

she was almost desperate enough to pick up the phone and beg you to come by her side. perhaps what spurred this desperation even further, was the next time that she saw you, it was at a socialite party and you were letting yet another desperate, creepy, old billionaire feeling you up and down and trying to bring you to bed with him. felicia almost had half a mind to tear his hand off, finger by finger. 

you made eye contact with her, but this time, as felicia approached, you shook your head slowly, telling her not to come any closer. that was before you walked off, leaving her feeling more isolated than she felt possible, in a room full of people. 

what felicia didn’t know, was that you had to walk off before you gave in to the compulsion of coming back to her arms and crying about how much you had missed her. 

and the old men that i've swindled really did believe i was the one

pockets full of rolexes, the trunk of your car filled with art pieces, the drawers in your wardrobe overfilling with stolen jewellery. even the zeroes being constantly added to your bank account was no longer giving you the dopamine high that the black cat could give you. 

your phone rang again. it was another one of your billionaire boys calling to ask when your next date would be; as if they still haven’t noticed you had picked them dry of any valuables they had during the date. 

presently, you looked back at the figure of the man laying in the hotel bed, the remnants of his touch still leaving an unpleasant sear on your skin. the lovesick look on his face as he snored was enough for you to gather your clothes and check out of the room as quickly as possible. 

for someone who was so powerful, the people you swindled were all so naive, you thought. little did you know, you were exactly just like them, when it came to felicia. 

and the ladies lunching have their stories about when you passed through town

don’t let her even try. don’t let her even try. don’t let her even try. you listened half-heartedly to the gossip of the wives of the group’s board members about the infamous black cat that had swindled their husbands of belongings before, not caring if you appeared disinterested. you already had what you came for. 

“i heard she’s a dangerous one, that girl.” sure is.

“probably has to be quite gorgeous, right? to get to so many men.” she’s more beautiful than anyone you could ever imagine. 

“still, doesn’t make sense why she would suddenly stop. i heard no one’s been robbed in almost two months.” oh. that one was new.

perhaps felicia had the same idea of leaving town and finding new ground to avoid you, as you had to avoid her. 

but that was all before I locked it down

“you’re really leaving?” you perched beside felicia one night, as she was scoping a new apartment to break into. 

she ignored how good it felt to hear your voice again, reaching out a hand to prevent you from perhaps getting the jump to the apartment before her. it was really to stop you from leaving again. 

“who told you that?”

“the ladies at tennis.”

“mm,” felicia smacked her lips, “so you keep up.”

you sighed, relaxing your stance and sitting down beside her instead. you removed your mask to look at her directly. she tried hard to avoid eye contact, in fear of what she would do if she was mesmerised by the sincerity in your eyes again. “i’ll go. you can stay here. new york is your home.”

“not anymore,” she said bitterly, but realising her tone and the vulnerability she was exposing, she playfully elbowed you, “not without you around.”

“felicia.”

she let down her guard, and frowned. at the solemn look on your face, felicia let her eyes drift away from the apartment for a bit, biting her lip nervously as she made the election to sit next to you. knees touching, hand still on your wrist. 

“we never would’ve worked, would we?”

“not with our lifestyles, we won’t.”

“but i’m not giving this up. not now, not ever.”

“me too.”

“so what do we do now?”

you both looked at each other, and it was the moment you knew. 

now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon

the feather-lightness of her kisses. her spare goggles and suit that had been next to yours in the short few weeks that she had spent in your home. the blanket you had draped around her shoulder the night she fell asleep on the dining chair. 

they now seemed impossible to admit that they were real. and so was your failed, almost-relationship with the black cat. nothing was real, the pact, the feelings, the love and concern you had for her. it amounted to nothing, because it stemmed from nothing. you and felicia had agreed upon that when you took her hand to dance in that wedding. 

you had known nothing about felicia, and she had known nothing about you either. she was your black cat, your partner in crime for a few break-ins and heists and robberies and everything in between. that was all. 

yet, the tears rolling down your cheeks that slowly dripped onto the oak floor of your apartment, the floor that you had danced with felicia on so many times before, were all too real to dismiss everything that the two of you had. 

nothing mattered, but everything did, all at once. 

with your boots beneath my bed forever is the sweetest con

you never returned the spare suit and goggles she had left behind. she never asked for them back either. you were sure she still had your own spare suit and mask at her place. 

perhaps it was the reminder of both of your presence in each other’s lives. a reality to keep you grounded, now that you were gone in another part of the planet, and felicia had nothing to live for, in new york. 

i've had some tricks up my sleeve takes one to know one, you're a cowboy like me

one day in spring, exactly five years after the wedding, you received a package in the mail. 

it had cat fur belonging to a suit you still kept somewhere in the depths of your closet. she had found you. you tore open the package. 

and inside, were the very same flowers you had gifted felicia at your first dinner at her place, dried and pressed and beautifully preserved. you had no idea she treasured them so much to do such a thing.

and hidden even deeper into the package, were the jewels you had given back to her. returned to its rightful owner with a note this time.

takes one to know one. but i’m past that life now. if you are ready to try again, i am always going to be in new york waiting for your return. 

[lambilegs]

does it happen in a season? (part four: SUMMER - ii)

in her senior year of university, lee is ready for nothing more but yet another monotonous cycle of meeting her new roommate, adjusting, then living in separate spheres for the rest of the year. the last thing she's prepared for is: curiosity.

last chapter: (SUMMER i) | next chapter: (SUMMER iii)

soundtrack: seasons - wave to earth; lover - taylor swift; 20201203 - mac demarco; I know you know - CHSKA; video games - lana del rey

(contains: 19K words (tumblr did not let me upload the entire 40K part two of summer, so expect a third part soon), college!au lee harker, set in the nineties, discussions of trauma, depictions of anxiety and hoarding, internalized homophobia, homophobia, intoxicated sex (specifically, having sex when high) without prior discussion, joke made about reader taking advantage of lee when they're high, graphic sexual content w/ reader's body referred to with the following terms: "pussy," "cunt," "tits," "breasts," "clit," reader receiving fingering, reader being called a "good girl," kinks include: spitting, dirty talk, spanking, slight humiliation)

important note about sexual content: the start of sexual content will be marked by ✩ (bolded green-coloured star) and the end of it will be marked by ✩ (bolded red-coloured star). minors, and anyone who doesn't desire to read nsfw content, please use these markers in order to skip nsfw content.

----

SUMMER. SOMETIME IN THE 1990s.

lee’s holding a plate of food in each hand when you come scurrying into the kitchen, fresh and acutely awake after your morning shower. the news is softly playing on the radio, filling the apartment. as you dash past her, she leans her head in your direction and you give her a small peck before rushing to the couch and flopping onto it. 

you curl your feet underneath you as you scramble for the remote with a giddy smile biting at your face.

she sets the food down on the coffee table. “you know, grabbing the remote first doesn’t make it your turn.” 

“I know,” you respond haughtily. “what makes it my turn is that the last movie was a tape you picked out.”

“yes, but then, you had us watch an episode of a show that you like two days later.”

you roll your eyes. how did she even manage to remember the exact date that was? “yes, but that’s a show. it’s only half an hour long!”

“yeah, but doesn’t it make sense to determine who chose what we watched last based on the actual act of choosing – not runtime?”

you bristle at her pristine logic. “fine, I chose last. but, it doesn’t count – it was a half hour show!”

lee’s lips creep up. you can tell she’s enjoying the little argument, and you’d be inclined to tease her for it if it weren’t a deeply hypocritical thing to do. “but, again, our turns are based on choice. not runtime.”

your bottom lip juts out, staring longingly at the tapes on your coffee table. “c’mon, please.”

she sighs at you, lips pressing in together. after a moment, she gets up, picking up the tape of Age of Innocence.

you clap your hands excitedly, cheeks aching with how hard you beam. “you are my favourite girlfriend, you know that?”

“mm, yeah.” she pops the tape in, eyebrows drawn in slightly. “I remember last night.”

your shoulders twist at the shiver that creeps up your body, mind flashing with the mental images of lee between your legs, and the taste of her on your tongue, the latter of which has already faded, leaving you with a craving for more.

when you say nothing, lee turns to you wordlessly, the corner of her lip just barely tucked upwards. “what’s wrong?”

“I never said anything was wrong,” you shoot back, sinking further into the couch, praying you look casual. 

apparently not, for lee’s grin widens as she stands up, grabbing the remote and pointing it to the television to switch it on. “well, you know, you just got a bit quiet.”

“says the queen of the monosyllabic response.”

she seats herself on the couch, the bottom edge of her boxer shorts rising up her thighs. the sight makes you want to both lay your head on her thigh or get in her lap and continue off from last night. 

your thoughts snap when she turns to you. “I’m using more than one syllable now.”

“ah, a changed woman indeed.”

“so, what was the matter? when you weren’t talking.”

you roll your eyes, which is, frankly, partially an excuse to avoid eye contact. she really wants to know, doesn’t she? it feels silly, to be this shy after how wantonly you behaved the night before. but, the sobering light of morning does wonders for your self-consciousness. “I don’t know. I just got… shy thinking of last night.”

“yeah?” her fingers skim over where your hand rests, tracing over the veins on the back of it. her voice is lightened with something – teasing and what seems to be a bit of hope.

“yeah.” you glance down at your hands. “are you trying to seduce me?”

she slides hers away with a smile. “no.” 

you can’t help the wide grin that splits over your face as the film starts. as you watch Countess Olenska approaching Newland with her soft smirk and red dress, weaving her way through the crowd, you feel like you can sink into this couch, toast half eaten on your place, for years. 

there’s something newly intimate about watching a romance film with lee. sure, it felt intimate when you guys first did it back in winter. but to do it now, as an actual couple, feels personal. those are two people in love on the screen, and you and lee are also two people in love, and finally, both of you know it. 

you flinch at the thought. in love? okay, yeah, you need to get a reign in on your feelings. you don’t even know for sure if you’re there yet, and even if you are, a singular day into dating feels a bit too soon to be making any love confessions. but, even so, it isn’t really that soon, is it? it’s been ten months in the making. friendship surely can’t be that much of a preventative measure in arousing and moving forward the process of falling in love.

you’re yanked from your thoughts when lee reaches over to grab for your plate, stacking it on hers then walking over to the sink silently.

“oh, lee,” you start, hitting the pause button, “you don’t have to–”

“it’s okay,” she quietly replies, eyes lowered as she slips on the yellow gloves and gets to work. “just keep it on pause.”

“oh?” you drawl, standing to your feet and sauntering to her. “does that mean it’s fair to imply you actually like Age of Innocence?”

she shrugs. “I haven’t seen enough of it to determine that. but, um, I want to watch it for you.”

you stop behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist and leaning your face against her shoulder, which is bare from her tank top. you can hear the hesitation in her voice from saying something so affectionate, and you squeeze gently. “you’re sweet.”

she hums, continuing her task. you can feel her stomach’s muscles tightening and tensing, before a long breath is drawn from her that sends her body softening. you kiss her shoulder, and laugh when a cup goes clattering against the side of the sink.

“shut up,” she mutters, her previous confidence swept back into her usual reservations. it’s sweet how she can switch like this. it makes you wonder if her confidence is rooted in your own timid bashfulness – if it gives her a boost, knowing her effect on you. after all, you’ve certainly experienced that vice versa.

when she’s finished, you, very reluctantly, let go of her and circle the counter, sitting at the other side of it, as she so often does when studying. you don’t know why she does – the stool isn’t particularly comfortable, and the surface of the counter is cool to the touch (and therefore, probably freezing during winter). plus, her desk is but a few paces away. 

when you inquire as such, her eyes curiously raise to yours as she grabs a knife and an orange from the pantry. carefully placing the fruit on the freshly washed cutting board, she says, “I read that it helps with focus to change the locations where you study during a session.”

“really? it doesn’t distract you at all?” it makes sense in light of lee’s habits – she’s never been one to consistently study at her desk, moving from there to the counter to the library. 

she cuts the orange into neat slices. “no. sometimes, it helps because I don’t get too comfortable in one spot.”

“that makes sense.” it’s also very studious of her, as well as dilligent. you can’t help but admire her. 

after moving the slices to a plate, she slides them over to the center of the counter. you smile at the silent gesture, feeling something in you swell at how quietly she cares. it’s almost like she doesn’t want to be noticed or recognized for the things she does for other people. like she’s content to offer these pieces of kindness so long as the receiver of them gets to reap their benefits. there’s nothing in it, at least intentionally, for her. 

✩

your eyes, fondly resting on her, trail down. her thumbs pinch into the ends of the slice, bending it down so that the pieces of it spread and widen into small triangles. you don’t know why, but the soft strength she uses in the gesture makes you shift in your seat. especially with how the veins protrude along the back of her hands, like winding rivers just begging to be drunk. she lifts the fruit to her mouth and her soft lips hug and tighten around a piece, slowly sucking and drawing it in. a wet, squelching noise rasps out, tiny squeaks produced from the moisture of the slice as she presses her lips in harder, fluidly moving them in and out, like some sort of a dance. the juice of it leaks from the corner of her lips, and you can see the pads of her finger shine with the stickiness of it. you breathe heavily, mouth feeling impossibly dry when faced with the idea of taking those fingers in your mouth and sucking them clean of the sour liquid. 

you practically gasp when, after her mouth takes some twists and turns, jaw tightening and tongue rolling against the inside of her cheek, she suddenly spits a seed into her palm. as she turns her hand into the plate, dropping it, you feel your thighs tighten on instinct. the gesture is so dirty, so primal, done on pure instinct by her. it causes your mind to flood with the sticky, sweet memories of how she spat down on your folds the night before, not a moment of hesitation holding her back, riding off the pure desire to get you even wetter and ready for her mouth. did she like how shiny you looked with her saliva? did she like watching you drip with both arousal and something belonging to her? did she want to mark you up? each possibility carries a heated appeal to it.

she was so passionate and tender last night, but those moments of dominance are also seared into your brain. when she’d tease you, take her time with you, taunt you and seem to take pleasure in your shock and helplessness to her words. you don’t know if that’s all the roughness she has to offer, or if there’s more she’s holding back on, but you want to. especially when this little unintentional display of hers has the mental image of her spitting replaying without cease in your mind. you need to do something regarding sex right now. jumping her bones, talking about it, you don’t care – just anything that’ll sate some of this desire and curiosity in you.

“lee?”

she looks up, her sharp gaze making you feel reborn, revived to the very bone. “mm?” 

“I can’t remember if you answered clearly, since I passed out and all, but do you remember me asking about, um, you know, kink?”

she freezes, eyes pierced on the surface of the counter. “yes.” 

you can immediately sense the discomfort aroused by the question and slowly reach your hand over to hers. “it’s okay, alright? I just thought we could talk about it, see if we’re on board for certain things.”

“okay.” her voice is tentative.

you click your tongue in your mouth, an awkward pause hanging between you two. “okay, um…”

“I’ll go first,” she quietly offers. when you blink back in surprise, she mutters, “you always take these steps first. I want to do that for you too.”

you swallow hard, nearly driven to emotions by the words. “I… okay.”

“I, um…” she braces her palms on the counter, head ducked down. “I enjoy, um… I don’t know, power play, I guess.”

“mm,” you hum, abdomen stirring at the confession. “I thought as much.”

her eyes dart up to you. “wha– how?”

you shrug, propping your chin on your fist. “well, you just had moments of it last night.”

she sighs, nostrils flaring. “sorry. I didn’t mean to do it without asking. it just happened.”

“it’s okay. I liked it,” you mumble, mouth breaking into a smile from the nerves sparked in your body.

“you did?”

you nod. now it’s your turn to avoid her gaze, yours pinpointed on the plate of fruit. “I like power play too.”

“that’s, um– okay.”

after another quiet moment lapses, you force yourself to ask, “what else do you like?”

her fingertips skitter along the surface of the counter, jaw clenched and lips pinched in concentration and deep thought. “well, I sometimes enjoy, um, talking explicitly. as well as touch that’s a bit, well, harder.”

despite your own shyness, you break into a fit of giggles at her vague alluding. “so, dirty talk and spanking, basically?”

the corner of her mouth twitches, blinking rapidly as she keeps her gaze downcast. “pretty much.”

you press your thighs together. fuck. images flash through your mind of lee bending you over her lap, those large hands delivering swift smacks to your ass. you can picture the way your skin would burn under her sharp touches, pussy leaking and aching until she finally plugs you with two fingers. or maybe even her strap.

the last of those thoughts jolt you out of your perverted daydreams, and you realize you ought to confess the sighting of her toy. you wouldn’t want to undergo the ruse and lie of pretending you know nothing about it, especially when, or if, she reveals it to you. “I also have a small thing to admit.”

her eyes slowly rise to you, eyebrows slightly furrowed. god, you want to kiss the crease in her forehead. “what is it?”

“I’ve, well…” you suddenly laugh, anxiety flipping in your stomach like a pancake. what if she gets mad? what if she doesn’t believe you and she thinks you were snooping? it seems too late to backtrack convincingly, though, so you push yourself on. “I’ve seen your toy. and harness.”

her head visibly flinches, reeling back in surprise, eyes wide and lips parted. “how?” 

“I wasn’t snooping!” you nearly cry out, hands raised in defense. “I accidentally opened your drawer because I was rushing to get your clothes. you know, on that day where it was raining and we both got wet – um, yeah, wet.” you nearly choke on your words, and internally curse. “it was an accident, I promise, I–”

“I know,” she cuts in softly. “don’t worry. I know it was an accident.” despite the pink dust on her cheek, she watches you earnestly, gaze intense.

your words melt into a shaky sigh. “I…”

she leans over the counter, and you make a muffled noise of surprise when her lips land on yours. the kiss is tender and smooth, as though your lips are a fragile work of glass, moments away from shattering. when she parts from you, she whispers, “I know, okay? I know you.”

you gulp at the words. maybe you will shatter any moment now, for the weight of being known with such certainty bears down on you heavily. “thank you.”

her forehead leans on yours. “you don’t have to thank me.”

she leans back to her side of the counter, and your skin immediately crawls with the sheer want for her to be back on you, close again. “so…” 

“did it make you uncomfortable?” 

you immediately understand the meaning of her question. she means to ask if you judge her, or think her immoral, for possessing such a toy. if you think she’s less of a feminist, less of a lesbian. “no, I don’t.” for the sake of both honesty and extra assurance, you add, “I’d like to try it.”

a small noise bursts from the back of her throat, and you force your mouth to remain stiff. “are you sure?”

“yeah. only if you want to, you know – I get it might be for, you know…” you pause, face burning. “personal use.”

“it is, sometimes,” she mutters, voice so low you could’ve easily lost it if not for the silence of the room. “but, I, um…” her fingers roll into a tight fist on the counter. “have used it on others. and have had it used on myself.”

you chew on your lip, a spark of irritation flickering in you. “hm. I see.”

she eyes you warily. “what are you thinking?”

you sigh, knowing if you don’t tell her, she probably won’t be able to piece together your quiet, petty signals on her own. “I’m jealous, okay?”

her lips press together, faintly raising at the corners, those lovely laugh lines deepening in her cheeks. “last night and now this. have you always been this possessive?”

you bristle, rolling your eyes at the dig. “no.” 

“no?” she reaches over, fingertips skimming along your jaw. “so, our relationship just brings it out in you?”

you scoff at the slightly cocky undertone of her voice. “no.” 

she rubs a piece of hair between her thumb and index finger. when you look up, you nearly whimper at the sight of her dark eyes resting on you intently. “also, to answer your question from before, I do want to use it with you.” hesitation makes her voice slightly waver, but for the most part, she manages to speak the blunt sentiment steadily. the surety of it makes you nearly squirm. she really does want you, doesn’t she?

you clear your throat, still trying to maintain your composure. it’s easier said than done, considering your mind is racing with thoughts of lee burying her strap in you, pumping in the thick length of it inside and spreading your hole loose and open. you nearly whine without realizing it. “okay. good.”

she slowly stalks over to your side of the counter. “why exactly is it good?” 

“lee, I swear to God, I– ah.” your words crumble into a moan when she leans down, pressing hot, open-mouth kisses down your neck. 

“mm, don’t be blasphemous,” she mumbles, her words deep with a gentle, playful scolding.

with the amount of words she has you spewing for the rest of the morning, blasphemy is the last thing on your mind. all you can do is lose yourself to her mouth and touch, letting yourself spin in a whirlwind of pleasure until you’re tired and worn.

✩

–

lee walks out of the exam room and feels like she’s floating – the heavy weight of it being her final exam is lifted from her shoulders, and she feels far from reality at knowing she is officially, truly done with her semester. her last semester. she swallows hard, an onslaught of anxiety thrusted at her as she processes that piece of information. she sucks in deep, even breaths. it’ll be okay. she has time to digest all of this, and let herself truly process it, before job-searching.

a job. soon, she’ll no longer be working in the library, with its repetitive structure so ingrained in her head that she can do it half-asleep. she’ll have to get an actual job. one in law enforcement, one that encapsulates all she’s been working towards. it’s an exciting thought, one that sends a surge of energy through her. but, it’s also one that makes her crack a bit, too. just a bit. this life, this routine, the dream she’s devoted four years of her life to – it’s all slipping between her fingertips and all she can do is continue stepping away from it and watch it fade away. she remembers your words. an abyss.

she barely knows what she’ll even do in these next few weeks. and something about that feels unsettling, like she’s hanging off a thread that’s about to snap. she likes having her plans set and in motion, written on her calendar and followed through without falter. but, right now, her vague plans only consist of: fix up her resume, look for work, continue working at the library until she finds something sufficient, and go to the pride march with you. 

she’s aware of how out of place the last of those is, having only agreed to it because you had asked her so tenderly to go, eyes wide and imploring. both of you had never gone to a pride march before, your university’s city holding only its second one this year. it definitely isn’t her thing, and she only felt just-barely-comfortable with the idea because you promised to stay on the edge of the crowd with her. but, the truth is, as soon as the question had left your mouth, her answer was yes. she’d probably go anywhere, so long as you were there.

but, after the march, how the rest of her weeks will look is a blur, nothing marked by the timelines that usually stabilize her. and that’s something she doesn’t like.

it’s not like this reaction is surprising. she knows herself well enough to have anticipated the anxiety that’d be triggered from having her routine and structure taken from her. 

what she didn’t expect, however, is the sadness. a deep ache weighs down on her stomach. she’s relieved, but as she walks down the halls, she just wants to transport back to some time months before. when things were secure, and had a sameness to it that was reliable and comfortable. now, she’s faced with what feels like thousands of new paths to go down on. she only has one she’s interested in, but it feels like even that branches off in so many different directions regarding how she’ll approach getting her first real job. not to mention what to do about her home – it’s only a matter of time until you and her are faced with the choice of extending the lease or leaving. how will you two handle it?

so much for that bout of relief. she sighs, tugging the door to her class’s building open, freezing two steps down when she catches sight of you. 

you’re beaming, eyes crinkled, fingers wrapped around a small bouquet of flowers. her eyes scan your face down to the yellow petals, feeling her breath hitch. are they for her? it feels presumptuous to ask, despite the burning, embarrassing want for the gift to be hers. 

she finishes walking down the steps, slowly approaching you, eyes flicking to the flowers. “what’s going on?”

your arm jolts out, thrusting the flowers at her. on instinct, she catches it, her pinky brushing against your finger. she doesn’t speak on the twitch she feels in your hand, but silently takes pleasure in it. 

“they’re for you.”

her lips part in surprise. she can’t remember the last time someone got her flowers. in fact, she doesn’t think she’s ever gotten flowers before. a tender sort of gratitude spills into her, dripping and dripping until she’s filled to the brim with a shy pleasure. is this what it feels like to get spoiled?

she grips onto the flowers tightly, feeling irrationally attached to and protective over them.  “what for?”

“a congratulations gift for being done.” with a soft smile, you rise on your toes, kissing her cheek. 

lee’s eyes dart around your surroundings. she’s not used to such unbridled public affection. just like the day of the fire hydrant, she doesn’t know what to think, what to do. she wants to return these touches, but she’s not accustomed to it, and when she’s on the edge of doing so, she can’t help but feel fear and self-consciousness spring upon her. both for herself and the people surrounding you two.

you don’t seem to notice her alarm, pulling back and hooking your arm through hers. “come on.”

she tries to shake off her thoughts. just for a few hours, she wants to forget and toss away all the fears and anxieties, and just enjoy the afternoon with you. she smells the flowers, trying to point all her senses to the sweet scent. the last thing she wants is to have another attack in front of you, or ruin your gift. 

she tenses as you two weave through the crowd filling the street in front of campus. today is the last day of exams, and as per usual, that comes with blaring music, live entertainment and stalls of homemade gifts and trinkets. her eyes drift over them as you tug her through. she’d like to get you something. maybe she should return tomorrow.

someone slams into her with a hard thump. well, only if she has it in her to.

as you two walk past a stall that is identified from an upright chalkboard with twisting letters reading out, “Psychic,” you pull gently on her arm, nodding to it. she glances at it, then raises an eyebrow to you, unsure of what your meaning is. 

“do you believe in them?” you ask.

she hesitates, carefully pondering over her answer. she’s not someone who would depend on a psychic so much so that she’d visit them consistently – she can’t see herself doing that with any spiritual practice. and she wouldn’t place enough faith in what a psychic says to the point of re-adjusting her life because of their words. but, there’s a little part of her brain, maybe a remnant of her upbringing, that’s always tickling with the possibility of something existing beyond the scope of real life. something supernatural, spiritual, or otherworldly. it lingers at the back of her head, and comes out of the shadows when she’s faced with something and left with no evidence to explain it away. then, it itches at her – the curiosity of something more, something even she can’t grasp. it’s probably another reason why she wouldn’t go to a psychic. she’s too afraid of the possibility of it all being true. so, she must believe in it at least a little.

“I guess I do – a little bit. I usually rationalize it, but I think part of me does.”

“I see. so, if you’re all for rationalizing, I’m guessing you’re not religious?”

she ducks her head down, eyes following her feet. the question, simple as it is, shouldn’t cause tension to roll down her spine. but, it does. all of it flashes through her. the years of devout worship and strict regime, the pressure she put on herself to appear perfect, be perfect. the way her mom added to it, bit by bit, like a recipe of destruction, letting her paranoia manifest in constant questioning and warning. the way those teachings, both within her household and small town, had casted her into years of deep shame and hiding.

“not anymore.”

“but, you were once?”

she nods. “yeah.” from your inquiring gaze, she can tell you want more. if she wholly didn’t want to give it, she wouldn’t. but, part of her does. she wants to share this pain with you, have you maybe help her carry some of it. she had already managed for so long on her own. not about everything, but at least this. “well, my mom was pretty religious, so she raised me as such. but, the older I got, the more I started feeling stifled by it. that was the first thing that drove me away.” she glances at you, feeling almost guilty to admit her stray from faith. “when I realized I was a lesbian, and started seeing how the people in the church and town treated gay people, I only felt more isolated. then, I did research. and in addition to feeling less inclined for organized religion, I started questioning its foundations.”

she hates that she still feels a sense of shame washing over her at the admission. her eyes tentatively raise to you. a part of her mind, a part she knows is irrational, wonders if you’re judging her. 

but, then you squeeze her hand. and in a voice so soft she nearly loses it in the crowd’s mumblings, you say, “that must’ve been hard, yeah? I’m proud of you for not brushing your doubt or discomfort away. for letting yourself question things so that you can eventually feel comfortable.”

she clears her throat. she never thought it was an experience to take pride in. “why are you proud?”

you squeeze her arm. “because it might’ve been easier to just set aside your doubts and discomfort. and, you know, pretend to be religious for the sake of peace. but, instead, you chose to question things, and research them, and take your discomfort seriously enough to not force yourself to believe in it.”

lee supposes she understands that. it probably would’ve been easier to have just let her doubts remain in the sidelines, and avoid them in her thoughts. instead, she had lingered on it, confronted it, and sought other resources. 

there is one thing wrong with your words, though. she does pretend. 

“when, um, my mom asks me if I’m saying my prayers, I lie. I tell her I do.”

“why?” 

she sighs. “we’re already… less close than when I was a child. revealing how far gone I am from religion might make things worse.” she doesn’t want that. the thought terrifies her. because distant and strained as she is from her mom, she doesn’t want to become even more removed from her life. she doesn’t want to widen the bridge between them. or disappoint her.

“I understand that. it makes sense, she’s your mom. and you guys still have some closeness there. you don’t want to just, you know, lose that.”

you’re right. she doesn’t. 

“I noticed you have a bible in your room. what is it there for? if you’re not religious.”

she starts in surprise. once again, just as you’ve been doing so since autumn, you’ve caught her off guard with your observations. she finds herself slightly impressed. “it’s one I had at my house back in oregon. it would’ve looked odd to have not brought it when I moved out.” she pauses, mouth twisting at what she’s about to say. it feels stupid, and it’s something she’d usually keep hidden. but, no secrets. that’s what she had asked for from you. “and sometimes, I read it. I don’t know why. there’s just, I don’t know, a familiarity to it.”

“because of your mom?”

she tightly nods. “and my childhood.” it’s nonsensical, really. she spent so long wanting out of that life and hoping to escape it. now, she has, and still, there exists an invisible string connecting her to it. sometimes, it tightens and pains, and she lets herself give way to nostalgia. even if she knows her longing doesn’t account for even half of the discomfort of actually being back there.

“I understand.”

you always do. and lee feels an indescribable amount of gratitude. but, telling you this much has already taken a toll, and she’s not ready for more. and so, she glances back to where the psychic’s stall was, asking, “and you? do you believe in them?”

“it’s hard to say. in my psych class, we were taught about tacts used in that kind of stuff that can make a reading feel more believable. but, at the same time, I’ve heard people recall times where their reading included some really specific stuff that actually happened.”

she’s heard both kinds of accounts, as well. it only adds to her confusion about the whole thing, which seems similar to your own stance. her eyes scan you. you had seemed so curious about the stall.

“do you want to go back to it?”

“no, no, I’m too hungry. you?” 

she shrugs. “no, I’m not really interested.”

“awe, c’mon, she might’ve had something interesting to say.” you lean close, pressing your chest into her arm, and she sucks in a tiny breath at the contact. “maybe that your roommate is an amazing girlfriend who you should spend the rest of your life with.”

“I don’t need a psychic to know that.” the words escape her mouth before she can even process them. she blinks hard. jesus, if she needed a reason to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the day, this is it. she angles her head away from you, looking down, for her fear outweighs her curiosity.

“wow, you like me,” you drawl out, words thick with the tease.

she sighs, rolling her eyes. she does, desperately so, but she doesn’t need to satisfy you even more than you already are.

“where are we going?” she asks as you two turn the corner, out of the crowd and along a sidewalk. without saying anything, she slips her arm from your grasp before placing it on your back, guiding you to the inner side of the pavement.

you falter in your words, and she bites back a grin at the sight of your eyes skittering between the two of you, your body shifting slightly under her palm. she’s not accustomed to having this effect on someone after years of singlehood – and if she had possessed it during those years, she hadn’t noticed. regardless, she knows you well enough to know what some of your little physical reactions mean. and to know she’s making you shy or thrown off course, even momentarily, makes her more smug than she’d ever admit.

you clear your throat. “um… well, I uh–”

she tilts her head at you, feeling amusement rise in her. “yes?” 

“I got us a reservation at this restaurant.” before she can respond, you smile and say, “don’t worry, I checked and it’s not a crowded one.”

her shoulders loosen at your words, gratitude rolling through her. how nice it is to have someone know her so well, so well that prompting is unnecessary before doing something like that.

“thanks,” she mutters. she doesn’t want the gesture gone unnoticed – both for the sake of wanting you to know she appreciates these things, but also because part of her is so unaccustomed to receiving them that she wants to do anything she can to make it last. she knows you wouldn’t stop giving this, she knows it, but a part of her itches in fear that if she doesn’t proceed correctly, you’ll stop helping her in these quiet ways.

“of course, babe.”

she jerks a bit at the term. the automatic reaction sends a wave of embarrassment through her. she feels like an awkward child, bashful and disjointed from your smooth, effortless words of endearment. you notice the little movement too, eyes scanning her body.

you don’t mention it until you two are in the outdoor seating area of the restaurant. you were right – it’s not overcrowded, and is small and quaint, flowers lining along the gate separating the tables from the street. as her eyes rove along curiously, exploring the architecture of the building, you speak.

“are you okay with them? the nicknames?”

she uses the bouquet as an excuse to not look at you, carefully setting them on her lap. the truth is, she’s more than okay with them. to be called something that only belongs to the two of you carries an intimacy she more than welcomes. the only thing that acts as a barrier is how foreign it is, how unaccustomed she is to someone other than her mom using those soft words with her. as well as how she isn’t used to seeing herself as, let alone being, the receiver of affection. it’s not something she let herself think of much through the course of her life, nor something she ever felt would be easy for a person to give her. but, you do it as naturally as breathing. it’s frightening at times.

“I am. I’m just not used to it. and I,” she adds lowly, bracing herself for the vulnerability of the next words, “I don’t really – I mean, I’m not used to thinking of myself as someone who people can be affectionate with.”

“why?” 

lee’s mouth twists at how gently you ask it. “I don’t know. I’m not used to receiving it.”

“but, amaya and maria…”

“I mean, yeah, I’ve had them these past four years. but, for most of my life…” she shrugs, eyes cast down from the humiliation coiling in her. “I’ve either isolated myself, or had no choice in the matter. it might not make sense, but I feel like I’m still used to it being that way.”

you blink slowly at her, and she tries to not let her gaze linger on you and your bright eyes, your hair, the slope of your nose, or the tiny blackheads scattered around it. your eyebrows are relaxed, lips pursed – you don’t look like you’re judging her. rather, just perceiving her. maybe with thoughtfulness, with sympathy, she isn’t sure.

“remember when you told me, a few weeks back, that we, I don’t know, regress to our child selves with parents?”

her eyebrows scrunch, perplexed at the change of topic. “yeah.” 

“well, I feel like we do that kind of stuff with a lot of our relationships. like, how we were treated in our core, developmental years kind of frames our sense of worth sometimes, and we sort of just… linger in it.”

she nods, slightly feeling like she’s being psychologically assessed. 

“but, that’s okay, you know? it happens, and it makes sense to still carry it with you. and, you know, it also doesn’t make it true. you are loveable, lee.”

she nearly winces at such a tender sentiment, feeling her jaw ache with how hard it tightens. a jerk racks her body when she feels the back of your fingers brush her knuckles.

“anyone who has rejected or isolated you had no idea what they were missing out on. you’re really easy to… um, care for. trust me, it’s one of the easiest things I know.”

part of her wants you to stop. it’s too much, all the praise and compliments. she didn’t mean for the conversation to go this way, to land her in even more of a vulnerable position. it was one thing to confess her insecurities, but being comforted feels like a whole other ordeal. confessing is at least active, and in her control in some kind of way, whereas receiving your words of adoration renders her passive, an open cup to be filled and filled with your praise, at nothing but your will. 

you make it sound like caring for her and showing this affection is so easy. and it probably is to you. a conclusion she arrives at not because she thinks she’s easy to love. but, because you conduct the ordeal of it with such a lack of hestiation. at least, that’s how it appears to her. maybe it’s a lot harder for you than she realizes. maybe it’s just the feelings of care that are easy for you, but the action takes a lot of work. as much work as it takes for her.

with that thought in mind, she forces her eyes to move up to your face. her fingers uncurl from their fist, and she lightly traces your fingers with hers. “um, thanks. for everything.”

your thumb rubs along a nail on her finger, neatly trimmed from when she cut it last night. “of course.” 

“it’s not…” she pauses, rolling the words in her mind before speaking. “easy for me. to do these sort of things.”

“really? you’ve been so touchy, though.”

she clears her throat. “yes. but, I mean, well, verbally. I’m trying, but, it’s hard for me.”

“it’s unfamiliar?” 

“mm,” she hums. “it’s just been a while. and it’s always been hard to… make that transition. from not doing it to getting used to it.”

“I mean, are you forcing yourself to? does it not feel natural?”

she doesn’t exactly know what “natural” means in this context. the feelings come to her without persuasion or calling for it. but, the execution is intentional. “I do want it. I want to say those things. but, then, I’ll start thinking hard about it and I won't do it.”

“hm.” you cross your arms on the table, and her mouth twitches at your pondering. “well, maybe it’ll just take practice. like, the first few times will feel foreign, but you’ll adjust.”

she tries to think of something other than how attractive your problem-solving is. “probably.” 

“did you use them with your other girlfriends?”

she hesitates, hoping she doesn’t make you jealous with her next words. “not with my first. but, with the one from my first year, yeah.” she picks at the napkin on the table. “it was an adjustment then, too.”

you nod slowly, eyes downcast. she shifts in her seat, feeling a twinge of worry at your silence. but, she lets it linger – it’s not uncomfortable, per say. it never really is with you.

“was it about consciously doing it first and just letting it become natural?”

“yeah, pretty much.” 

“okay, then, I guess we’ll just do that, right?”

it’s the sensical choice, she knows, but still she feels a flicker of disappointment for herself. “I know. I just wish it would come easier to me.” her jaw flexes. “I wanna be where you are.”

“you are.” you twine your fingers together, and her wrist goes slack under your touch. “struggling with this doesn’t mean you aren’t. it just takes… practice. then, I’m sure it’ll get easier.”

“yeah. I know.” she sighs softly, eyes lingering on the yellow petals of the flowers.

“‘I know’...?”

her eyebrows draw in together, confusion rumbling through. “what?” 

“isn’t there a word you’re missing?” you drawl out, tone so husky she’d almost mistaken it as flirtatious. actually, maybe you are being flirtatious. “one right at the end? one pretty romantic?”

her mouth twitches. how did she manage to see you as a friend for so long, when you’re this endearing, this cute? “are you fishing for affection right now?”

“okay, well, ‘fishing’ is quite a negative term to use for your girlfriend.” you roll your eyes. “this is me, from the good of my heart, helping you use terms of endearment.”

she scoffs. “thanks for the support.”

“you’re welcome. now, c’mon, I’m waiting.” 

lee sighs, pursing her lips together. the first time she was gonna say it would’ve been cringe-inducing no matter what, so maybe it’s better that you’re anticipating it and can brace yourself. it probably would wound her ego less to say it when you’re expecting it and less likely to be caught off guard and unable to mask a wince at her delivery. though, she supposes it’d be good to know if you are internally cringing. then, she can know how to adjust her tone next time.

she lifts your locked fingers to her face. “okay, um… baby.” she pushes her face against the back of your intertwined hands, your nails gliding along her forehead as she hides away. she’s aware, painfully so, of how pathetic she must look right now, but the word tastes foreign and she’s convinced she’s doing it all wrong, and maintaining eye contact is too much.

but, then she looks up. and your face looks like it’s milliseconds away from shattering with how wide your grin is.

she gulps. “was that, um, okay?”

“‘okay’ feels like too meek a word to cover it.”

she hums deeper into your skin, pressing a quick kiss before she can even take a moment to remember where the two of you are. 

–

“c’mon, just answer it,” you whine, gently kicking a foot to lee’s behind, which, as much as she covers it, is pretty nice and firm.

the movement has her head bumping lightly against the rim of the drying machine. “okay, don’t do that right now.”

you giggle, totally absolved of any guilt. “sorry.” 

she continues peeling the clothes from the hollow machine, dropping them into the basket. your eyes linger on it, something whirring in your chest at the sight of your underwear mixed with hers. how intimate it is, to have the dried fluids and stains on both your clothes mixing and flowing in the same stream of water as the soap cleans it out. 

when she’s done, she looks up at you from where she’s crouched down while you sit perched on the machine opposite to her. “fine. if I had to, I’d rather fight the ogre.”

“but, it has blades for fingers!”

she sighs. “yes. but, the cricket is less noticeable and faster, therefore less easy to detect and anticipate. at least you can maintain some long-range attacks with the ogre.”

“wow, someone did their homework.”

she picks up the basket, standing up, and you try not to think with your pussy. which is hard, considering how as she grips it, the faint outlines of her muscles flex, and the veins on the back of her hand stick out. and all the while, that white tank top deliciously clings to her body from the weather. it’s an impossibly irritating day with all the suffocating heat and sticky sweat. but, with lee’s body, for once, barely hidden in shape, her peachy skin glistening like washed fruit, it’s all worth it. you try to focus as she shoots you a blank, but marginally incredulous, look. “it’s just common sense.”

you hop off the machine. “I see – well, now, you’ll make a great fbi agent.”

“or a very scared one. something tells me these hypotheticals won’t accurately measure up to the reality of the job.”

you chuckle as she braces her back against the door, still managing to get it open for you despite her arms being full. “thanks. and, well, you know, that’s the duality of man. you can be both a scared agent and a really badass one.”

the afternoon is searing with moist heat, the thick humidity fanning your face, and the pavement golden with the afternoon sun. as you watch lee carry the basket, something in you softens. you love the life you two have shared this past year. and with an evident lack of post-graduation plans on your end, it’s tempting to just remain here, and continue working at the grocery store, so that you can take time to ponder over your future. not the most secure plan, you know, but it’s the only one that doesn’t send you tossing and turning into an ocean of panic at the prospect of. 

but, what if lee wants to leave? she knows what she wants to do, the path she wants to tread upon. now that you two have graduated, she may want to try something different, and be situated elsewhere. but, you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. it would be a huge move for someone who is already unsure about the rest of their life.

it’d be different if it were a year or two from now, when lee goes to virginia. hopefully, by then, you’d have more of your goals aligned, as well as a firm idea as to what it is you want in a career. but, to move now, when you’re still floating, barely tied town, tossing and turning over what you want – it feels like too much change. even if you do badly want to remain with her, and practically ache to your fingertips with the sheer intensity of that wish.

that is, if lee even wants you to come with her if she decides to leave. you know how solitary she is, for it shows even in your current living conditions. you sigh at the thought. you don’t mind it, how she enjoys her time alone, but what if it’s a sign that she’d prefer to live by herself once the lease is up? what if she decides to leave? the notion leaves you with a sting to your chest. you know if she decided to leave, it wouldn’t be personal, but rather just a testament to her preferences. but, it causes a wave of anxiety to roll into your stomach. if she decides she’d rather live alone, even if she stays in this city, is it a sign you guys will never live together again? what will happen years from now, if you guys reach an age where it becomes more reasonable to live together? will she only do it under obligation, but never really want it? what if she doesn’t really want it now, and just reconciles with it? 

besides, god, you’d miss her. you’d miss her so much. even if you two end up living apart because you want to stay here and she wants to leave, even if the space was just temporary, you’d be devastated.

“I’m not so sure those co-exist with ease.”

your eyes shoot back to her, trying to anchor yourself back into the conversation. the two of you can talk about all the living stuff later, maybe when the lease is up and you’re forced to. for now, you want to enjoy this while it still lasts.

and so, you reign yourself back in and bump her shoulder. “well, then, you’ll be the exception.”

the corner of her lip curls up. “you’re that confident?”

“I am.” you ensure the words are said earnestly, paired with a direct gaze to her. because it’s true. with lee’s natural tendency for what’s right, as well as her chivalry, gentleness and efforts to help, you’re more than sure of her capability. not to mention how sharp she is – she’s beaten your ass at more card games than you can count. 

eyes downcast, she nods. “thank you.”

“of course.”

back at home, the laundry long forgotten next to the shoe rack, you and lee share a joint, the scent of the weed quickly swarming through the apartment. after a few hits, the world seems to soften, your awareness tinged with a lovely sort of drowsiness. lee seems to be affected by it, too, her smiles a bit easier and the usual stiffness she sits with melted into a relaxed sag against the couch’s cushions. 

her thigh touches yours, and your skin burns from the sensation.

“you know, maybe we should put summer decorations on it,” you muse, tilting your head in the direction of the christmas tree.

lee doesn’t even turn to what you’re gesturing to, yet still manages an, “I don’t know why we still have it up.” you wonder how she does that.

“it’s festive.”

“it’s summer.”

“and?” 

“do I need to explain the connotations of that?”

you roll your eyes, suddenly tingling with the urge to laugh. “no. but, you should explain why we need to follow such arbitrary rules.”

“‘arbitrary’?” joint dangling from between her fingers, she slowly lifts it to her lips, and just like that night in fall, you feel practically needy at the sight. even her side profile is something to behold – cheekbones pronounced and shiny with sweat, eyebrows soft and dark, lashes curling so prettily. her slim shoulders lift gently as she takes the puff, easing as she releases the stream of smoke. 

“mhm. arbitrary.” in the state of your high, you need a moment to rack your brain to come up with an argument, even if the topic is playful. “like, it’s just a tree with decorations. but, culturally, we attach these ideas and meanings to it, and use them to limit ourselves. but, in the most literal sense, it’s just… a tree.”

she shakes her head. “please, save me from the marijuana-induced philosophy.”

“hey, you can learn something from it!”

“such as what qualifies as a tree?” she hands you the joint, and you drown in the feeling of brushing against the dry skin of her fingers. “I think I’m already sufficiently aware.”

“okay, you’re definitely not as high as you should be if you’re using words like ‘sufficiently.” 

a small smile brushes her face. “and why exactly are you trying to get me more high?”

“think of it as a celebratory gesture for finishing uni.”

“does ‘celebratory’ mean lowering my inhibitions and getting me to confess my secrets?”

“wow, and the trust issues rear their head!” you bellow, laughing loudly. 

she snickers before murmuring, “I do trust you.” 

you smile. “I know.” it feels good to know it. “maybe, I don’t know, maybe I’m trying to lure you into complacency.” you draw out the last syllable with a teasing stroke to her cheek, which sends her jerking back in surprise. 

✩

the corner of her eyes crinkle, eyes still hooked onto the opposite wall. “so, you can take advantage of me?” 

“maybe.” it’s a joke, but still, it has you fidgeting. especially when she lifts the edge of her tank top to wipe it along her gleaming face. the flash of her toned stomach, paired with the shadow of her breasts, makes you hiss sharply. 

she gently grips the wrist of the hand near her head. “you don’t need to.” something in her voice shifts, and you nearly tremble when she mutters, “you know I’d give anything to you.”

god, that’s hot. but, you feel a twinge of resistance. “but, you know, I only want you doing what you want to do as well. don’t just do something solely because I want it.”

she plants a kiss to your wrist, and you feel the warmth of her lips combine with the damp sweat lining her upper lip. “I know. I do want these things with you.”

you make a small noise in the back of your throat. “yeah?” 

“yeah.” a thin layer of saliva begins shining on the inside of your forearm as her open mouth kisses turn into long, slippery licks of her tongue. your breathing grows heavy as the tip of it curls at the sweaty inner crease near your elbow. 

“lee, I…”

she pulls back to take another hit, the musky scent of the weed making you feel nearly delirious as it wraps around you both. eagerly, you crawl across the couch and into her lap, thighs on either side of hers. as she takes in another deep breath of it, her head turns to the side as she releases the smoke. you nearly whimper at the sight of it. her smooth pink lips hugging the tip, the way they round into a small O as she blows, how her jaw tenses and flexes through it all. you want to taste the smoke that she’s breathed in, swallow down the air that’s been trapped in her mouth.

you press your nose into her cheek, breathing in her tangy sweat. “kiss me when you do that.”

she hums, one of her hands snaking under your t-shirt, rubbing the hairs on your back. wordlessly, she sucks in another puff from the joint, then finally turns to you, dark eyes entrancing and focused as her hand reaches up to cup your face, thumb stroking a patch of dry skin near your lips. she leans in, kissing you, with a small, wet squelch signifying the meeting. you suck in deep breath, moaning lowly when lee opens her mouth, tongue sliding against your bottom lip as the warm cloud flows from her mouth to yours. god, it tastes so much better from her, to get dizzy from both the weed and her insistent mouth, prodding and pushing against yours.

your hips buck, pressing down against her thigh. her short nails dig into your ass, one hand clutching and groping as the other continues to curl around the joint. your hands run along the firm grooves of her arms, gripping hard at her shoulders as your tongue continues to flick along hers, slippery and uncoordinated. the heady smoke continues to get swapped between your mouths, paired with spit and the salty taste of sweat. you need more.

you part from her with a gasp, pulling your t-shirt off and tossing it to the side of the couch. lee’s eyes immediately dart to your chest and without a moment’s hesitation, she ducks down, taking a perked nipple into her mouth, eyes fluttering shut as she slowly sucks on it, lips pressing around it to draw out a slow build of pressure. you make a pathetically whiny noise, taking a long moment to process why her hand is raising up before spotting the joint in between her fingers. you grab it, smoking as she uses both hands to hold your tits, switching between them as she pops your nipples in and out of her mouth, tongue sliding out to lap at them, the cool feeling of her saliva making your hand tremble as you smoke from the joint. 

a long sigh is drawn from your lips when one hand skims under your loose shorts, travelling to your underwear, which is heavy with arousal. 

“so needy,” she whispers against your lips, her fingertips tantalizingly light as they stroke your folds over the fabric. 

you clench at her words. you two had agreed to try out more of your guys’... unorthodox desires, and a desperate part of you hopes today will be that day. wanting to urge her on, you play into the game. “I’m not,” you breathe against her lips.

“mm, I’m sure of it.” her fingers dip under the fabric and you gulp as they skim along your pussy’s lips, gathering the wetness seeping from your opening and spreading it. “you’re just this wet, because..?”

“the, um, weed has me more… susceptible,” you whisper against her lips, pressing in another long, hard kiss.

she pulls away, rolling up the ends of her tank top and pulling it off. you bite your lip, desire shooting through your abdomen. it’s the first time you’ve seen her like this. her tits are round and perfect, heavier than you had expected. her nipples, a dark pink-brown colour, are stiff, just like they’ve always been under her shirts whenever you snuck a glance in. 

she leans further back into the couch, fingers continuing to massage your pussy as she sits comfortably, staring up at you. you brace your palms along her stomach, fingers sliding along the shape of her ribs. tracing the shape of a part of her, hidden beneath skin and flesh, makes you wanton in the intimacy of it. when you reach the sweaty underside of her breasts, you look up to her for permission.

when she nods, her tight expression melts away moments later into a contortion of pleasure as your fingers begin to stroke her nipple, thumb and index fingers rolling the stiff bud. as you watch their swelling in fascination, her thumb begins to languidly stroke and rub at your clit, using your juices to easily glide over it. the firm press of her finger sends you losing yourself for a second, accidentally toying with her nipples too hard, inciting a small cry from her. you immediately pause from your ministrations, though you can feel your hole squeeze at the noise. 

“are you okay?”

eyes still screwed shut, she nods. “yeah. you can, um, do that again.”

oh? you smile at the revelation, excitement bubbling up in your stomach. carefully, you tweak her nipples again, the sharp touch sending her lovely body arching up again, quietly calling out your name. your breaths grow heavier, body jerking when her fingers begin to move again, rubbing against your entrance, tantalizingly close to the rim of your hole. 

she sits up, wrapping her arms around your waist, mouthing slowly at your neck, her index finger beginning to push through your entrance. you whine at the tight fit of it, hips unconsciously bouncing on their own, your pussy so much more attuned to touch from the high you’re in. she gnaws and licks with an almost animalistic want, sharp teeth sinking into your skin and making you toss your head back, lost in the sensations of her fingers and mouth. 

after sucking in what feels like her fourth hickey into your neck, she pulls back, lips hanging open.

your clit throbs at the sight. “what is it?”

“the joint.”

“oh.” you laugh shyly. even with a finger deep inside you, the tip achingly close to your g-spot, you still feel yourself cower under the weight of her gaze as you lift the joint to her lips, a giddy feeling flapping through your stomach as she draws it into her mouth, inhales deeply, then keeps it dangling from her mouth until you pluck it from her mouth again. when you do, she blows the stream of smoke in your face, the heat of it soaking through the sweat on your face and making you feel even more moist and sticky. when the last of it is almost gone, she kisses you hard, shoving her tongue into your mouth and forcing you to breathe in the smoke. the rough gesture has you whining against her, your hole tightening up on her finger. when she pulls back, you laugh against her lips, “I thought you wanted me to spit in your mouth or something.”

surprisingly enough, she seems unfazed by your comment, nuzzling against your neck. “you can.”

you freeze at the proposition. memories of lee spitting on your pussy wander into your mind. so sloppy, so dirty. you want to do that, too. want to give her something that’s a part of you, that’s been in your body. 

you tug her from your neck, eager and beginning to rock against her finger. the entire motion is broken at the edges, soft and melting into every action before and after, intoxication clouding every one of your senses but adding to your sensitivity all at once. “open up.”

a corner of her lip quirks up, and she follows your demand, silently opening it. you hover your mouth over hers, hesitating before pushing a gush of saliva from your mouth, a long, thick drop of it falling to her bottom lip while the rest slides down your chin. you laugh in embarrassment, especially when a small chuckle leaves lee’s mouth. but, any embers of humiliation are washed away with the cold awareness of arousal when she licks up the white bubbles of your spit, swallowing it down, then follows suit with your chin, the soft texture of her tongue roving around it as she licks up the mess you’ve made. 

“you’re so clumsy,” she murmurs between kisses. “sloppy.”

“shut u–”

she shushes you, cutting you off with a small kiss. “no backtalk.” 

the small show of dominance has you clutching onto her tighter, your tits rubbing against hers, sweat making your bodies hot and sticky as the drops on her chest soak into your skin. it’s so wet, so messy, and the floaty state your body is in has you mindlessly moving against her, grinding on her thigh and whimpering for more. “fuck, I need you.” you lick your lips and swallow, mouth dry and scratchy. 

lee murmurs, “thirsty?” 

“mhm,” you softly whine.

“open.”

your movements faltering slightly, your lower lip hangs down, patiently awaiting her.

the sound of her spit is loud and clear as a wad of it splatters into your mouth. the sudden burst of wetness has you moaning and jerking on her lap, quietly whimpering for more. lee’s longer fingers grip your jaw hard, and she easily does it again, sharp and precise, her warm saliva spilling onto your tongue just right.

her fingers on your jaw loosen. “is this okay? being… rough?”

“yes,” you gasp. “I want more.” lost in your desire for it, you begin babbling. “you can be rougher. you know, like, the talking, the, um, spanking.” you swallow hard, sprinkling kisses on her face to avoid eye contact.

her next words are shaky, muddled with a quiet moan. “come, get up.”

you tighten your arms around her neck in protest. “why?”

in a mere few minutes later, lee has your back pressed against the cold tiles of the shower’s walls, one hand cupping your thigh, encouraging you to keep your foot propped on one of the shelves. with this angle, her fingers are able to pump in and out of you with ease, your pussy making soaked noises from your wetness and the shower’s water, the latter of which coats you and lee in cool droplets, immensely relieving. lee’s mouth is latched onto your neck, kissing and sucking as she plays with your g-spot, pressing it lightly in, while her palm curves just right against your stiff clit.

from your encouragement, and perhaps the tight, moist space of the shower, she’s gotten bolder. against your skin, she murmurs, “such a good girl. getting so loose and open. so easy, mm?”

you cry out at her lewd words. as embarrassed as it makes you to match the dirty nature of them, you can’t resist. you want more of this from her, and something about her pushing you to admit your most lustful desires out loud is irresistible. “fuck, can’t help it, you’re so hard on me.”

she huffs a quiet laugh, and the mocking edge to it has you writhing against her. “you think this is hard?” 

your pussy aches as she begins jamming her fingers into you harder and faster, brutally pressing against that sensitive spot in you, spreading you open to accommodate her. 

“this is hard,” she mutters, voice absent of feeling lest for the heavy breaths coating it. “how you’re gonna come is going to be hard.”

“I– you don’t know that. maybe–” 

a sharp gasp cuts into your words when she smacks your thigh, the noise of it loud and wet from the shower. her fingers immediately skim along the burning spot, which is sizzling with sensitivity. “okay?” 

you nod. fuck, ‘okay’ didn’t even cover it.

she nods back. “now, what were you saying before?”

you’re at a loss of words, and take several long seconds before responding. “I said that, um, you don’t kno–”

she delivers another swift swat to your ass, and your body arches against her, nails digging into her strong back. she hisses at the feeling of it, pulling you plush to her body before grabbing the spot she just hit, kneading it before slapping it again. they’re not harsh smacks, per say, but have enough of an impact to send your butt stinging delightfully. 

she makes you come just like that, one hand stroking and spanking your ass, while the other is buried in you, massaging your g-spot and coaxing whines, whimpers, and eventually, your orgasm out of you. it hits you hard, your slightly dizzy mind whirling into nothing but a focus on the sensations, the tension within your tummy snapping and sending a thick flood of warmth and tingles through you, from your guts to your toes. 

after one more orgasm is pulled out of you with the pressure of the shower head directed to your swollen clit, you’re back in lee’s room, impossibly comforted by the scent of her sheets pressed against your nose as you lie on your side, lee applying a thin layer of aloe vera to your aching skin. 

“you know, I’m not sure I wanna know exactly how you know to do this,” you giggle.

“I’m not sure you do either.” her fingers make massaging circles, slippery from the substance. 

you scoff, curiosity prickling at you. “you do realize that’s only going to make me more curious, right?”

she snickers, and you crane your neck to find her wearing an impish grin. “I know. that’s why I said it.” 

you grunt. “asshole.” 

“minutes ago, you were just singing me praises.”

you can’t help but laugh, feeling an itch of embarrassment dig at your stomach from the memory of how explicit you were earlier. “well, the shower sobered me up.” after a moment, you ask, “your ex from first year?”

“mhm.” 

you roll your eyes, amusement, tinged with slight jealousy, whirling in you. 

she runs a thumb over your warm skin. “was it too much, though?”

“what?” your head whips to her, concern squeezing your chest when you see her eyes fixed on a wrinkle in the bed, brows drawn in. “baby, no! it was perfect. really, it was. it felt, like, so good.”

her lips purse together. “okay.” 

you try to lie on your back, but wince at the feeling of the itchy sheets on your ass, which sends lee’s eyes darting up to you, wide and alert. her palm rests on the small of your back, gently pushing you back to your side. 

you tug on her wrist. “okay, well, sit closer to me so I can see you.”

she obliges, standing from the chair she was plopped on, and sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. eyes downcast, she absent-mindedly strokes you. her torso is still bare, skin warm and flushed under the light streaming from her window. you’ve noticed she’s quite comfortable with how she looks. shy and awkward when it comes to the vulnerability of being seen, that much is clear, but it doesn’t seem like those emotions are fused with any sort of self-consciousness. look at her now – a few weeks of having sex, and she’s completely open and at ease at being half-nude in front of you.

it’s not so easy for you to do the same. your relationship with your body has been non-linear, to say the least, and while you thought some of that would change upon being wanted by the girl who you’ve pined over for months, there are still bouts of self-doubt that plague you every now and then. sometimes, it comes during sex – a flood of anxiety-inducing thoughts about how you smell, taste, look at this angle or that angle. other times, it comes when she touches you, and you wonder if she likes what she feels. sometimes, just a glance from her is enough to trigger it. you know you shouldn’t care so much about her opinion, even if she’s the one you hold in your heart. but, you can’t help it. you want her to like you, you want her to be so attracted to you that it doesn’t fade to a full stop in the future.

the future. it’s still stomach-turning to think of sometimes. while things feel a lot more comfortable than they had weeks ago, there’s still a flicker of anxiety that burns brighter at moments where you least want it to show up. like now.

you try to ignore the thoughts, grasping her hand gently. “it was amazing. did you enjoy it?” 

“I did.” her eyes raise tentatively to you. “a lot.”

“yeah, you got really into it.”

she rolls her eyes, her mouth twitching. “I wouldn’t say… really into it.”

you guffaw, eyes squeezing through your laughter. “the state of my ass would say otherwise.”

“I see. I’m not yet well-versed enough with it to know its language.”

“something tells me you soon will be.”

she snorts, ducking her head away. “maybe.” after a small pause, still not meeting your gaze, she lowers herself to press a kiss to your back. “you did really good, too. thank you for all of this. it was really good.”

satisfaction carries a comforting weight in your stomach and you smile. “of course.”

✩

–

lee had been correct in her assumption. pride, like every other march, really is overwhelming. which she had anticipated, of course, having had requested a few hours alone in the morning just to mentally prepare, which you had been glad to give her, leaving her to stay in her room as you watched television and prepared dinner for later that evening.

it’s overwhelming in a myriad ways, some expected and others as a surprise. for one, it’s suffocating. people crowding in everywhere, hot, sweaty bodies pounding into her even when the two of you remain on the sidelines of the crowd. there’s music blasting on some speakers, her eyes feel like they can barely capture just how many textures and colours exist amongst all the clothes, and some of which she can confidently claim she hasn’t even seen before. bodies are so exposed that they have her immediately averting her eyes, pointed at the ground in embarrassment as seeing such intimate parts revealed. there’s loud chanting wrapped around her, screams and shouts of all octaves, while signs of different organizations are thrusted into the air, creating a layer of coloured blocks running through the top of the crowd. she knows it’s all for a good cause, and she’s glad to offer her own dose of support. but, visually, auditorily, she’s a mess.

so, it’s suffocating, yes. but, she also feels like for the first time, she can breathe. there’s no sense of the discomfort she once possessed at being a girl in her high school who didn’t want to wear a skirt and who didn’t look at boys. there’s no tightness in her chest from sitting in a church. there’s no fear at your touch. she knows that here, the rules she spent her entire life keenly aware of are bent, loosened, and maybe even completely dissipated. there are no boundaries of everyday life, and while rules and standards usually help to offer her a semblance of structure in a world she still doesn’t know how to navigate, and she usually is glad to use them as a guidepost, she doesn’t always agree with them. and here, in this hot, searing afternoon, they’re banished. it makes her feel both lost and like for the first time, every action of hers is ripped from obligation and the awareness of others’ eyes on her. it feels wrong, and off, but more freeing than she’s ever known. 

but, it all shatters. in just a singular moment. the march moves past a church, and she’s so weak that that’s all it takes. just a few church-goers standing on the steps, watching the crowd like prey. just the sight of one woman whose grey hair is like her mom’s.

her mom, whose eyes had widened in shock when she had caught lee lying with her girlfriend in her cramped up bed back in high school. her mom, who had never mentioned it again and acted like it didn’t even happen. her mom, whose feelings on the situation lee didn’t even know, but paired with her mother’s faith, the cross she wore on her chest, the reminders of sinning and praying, lee had felt casted to shame. her mom, whose evasion in the situation, just like with everything else, made lee never bring it up again. she almost preferred the unknowingness of the silence, rather than the confirmation of her mother’s disgust. maybe that’s presumptuous of her to assume, considering her mother’s silence may have just been stemmed from shock, or wanting to give lee privacy. but, lee doesn’t know and she isn’t ready to find out. not when just a flash of grey is enough to make her panic.

like it’s an instinct that’s stuck with her through all of evolution, something to tap into without a second thought, she lets go of your hand. 

when you jolt in surprise next to her, her body immediately floods with a sea of shame. her fingers twitch and ache for you to return, but she knows you won’t. not when she let go first. not when your own mind must be clouded with the confusion over what she just did. what is wrong with her? how did she ruin this so fast?

the frustration and embarrassment begins to wring out the bits and pieces of ease she felt just moments before, the crowd feeling hotter and more stifling than before. irrationally, her eyes burn, jaw clenched together as her mind becomes drowned in a whirlwind of thoughts, all of which are anxiously appointed to her, her mistake and how you must be feeling.

“can we, um…” she mumbles into your ear, voice trembling. “can we please move from the march for a second?”

your eyes widen, and she thinks you look concerned. she swallows hard. she doesn’t deserve your concern right now.

but, you give it nonetheless, nodding to a park and saying, “come on.”

you leave lee for a few minutes to head to the convenience store, your hands clutching water bottles and popsicles when you return.

as lee sucks on hers, red and bloody, she can’t help but thrum her fingers along her pants. she feels like a child, lost and needing to be consoled even though she’s the one who made an error. “thank you.”

“yeah, of course.”

of course. it’s always that. your care for her is an automatic, an unasked for response that’s drained of doubt or hesitation. it makes her feel all the more self-conscious of what just happened. you care for her so easily, and she couldn’t even manage to hold your hand for a full hour.

“I’m sorry. for letting go.”

“lee, babe–”

“I don’t know what happened,” she speaks, voice low. “I just saw the church, the people. and it felt like an instinct to hide.”

“that’s understandable, though,” you insist to her dismay. “you grew up hearing all sorts of stuff from the church.”

“I know, but I don’t want to hide now.” the words unravel on her tongue before she can think twice. the longer the silence passes after she says them, the more she realizes how true they are. she spent so long hiding away, reserving her love, her attraction, to shame-filled shadows and dirty corners. these past few weeks, she hasn’t known for certain if she wants you to touch her in public. but, for the first time, she’s realized that to limit your touches, and reserve them to privacy only, is to succumb to what she was before. it means going back to hiding herself through restricted grazes and the same four walls always encapsulating her and a lover. up until now, she hadn’t thought of it that way. how asking you to only touch her at home is going to drag her right back to the shame-filled secrecy she inhabited throughout most of her life. the secrecy that was so stifling, so overbearing, that she partially went to another city just to escape from. 

it all feels tragically wrong now, to think of hiding you away. to having you two resemble the life she led back in oregon. she doesn’t want you, another person she feels so strongly for, to become the shame she carries. “listen, I… I don’t know if I’d be able to hold your hand in, I don’t know, my hometown.” she sighs, the noise heavy. “but, I’d like to do it here. I’d like to do it more.”

you peel her hair behind her ear. “I know. it scares me too, you know? to touch publicly, be open. but, I try. to make it easier for others, to make it easier for us.”

“some people would say it’d make it harder for us.”

you frown, and she purses her lips together. she wishes she hadn’t said that. “if we know a place would be dangerous for us, we don’t have to. but, if we’re not in danger, I’d rather have the temporary discomfort than long term shame.”

temporary discomfort rather than long term shame. that’s really what it is, isn’t it? 

“I do, too.” she keeps her eyes locked onto the ground, mulling for a few moments before speaking again. she’d prefer to move past this, but she knows you deserve more than that. “I think what happened just now made me realize how much I… don’t miss the shame. and it made me realize how it’d feel to re-enter it. I can’t go back to it. and I don’t want you to ever feel that way either.” she hesitates, then raises her eyes to yours, forcing herself to hold your gaze. “if we’re safe, then I don’t want to hide. I don’t want to go back to how it felt before.”

you lean in, kissing the corner of her mouth. the safety the touch brings, the comfort – this feels like a touch that cleanses her of sin, that plunges her into water and runs through her until her body is whole.

maybe one day, she’ll be brave enough to be like this with you even if it isn’t safe. maybe one day, she’ll have the courage to bring you to her hometown and kiss you at the gas station, on the street leading up to the church. maybe the courage will outweigh the ridicule, the punishment she could face. but, even then, she doesn’t want to see you go through that. she doesn’t want to see you punished. 

“thank you,” she murmurs into the fabric of your shirt a half hour later. you smell like her detergent, and she inhales how it mixes with your scent over and over again.

the two of you have slowly become surrounded by more couples and friends, splayed on their backs or hunched over each other. the chatter is still too loud for her liking, but the longer you two remain there, the more it melts into a faded noise. the only things at the forefront of her senses are the cherry taste of the popsicle and the solid weight of your body. 

“what for?” you mutter. you’re on your back, hand stroking the strings of grass near her head. it takes her a moment to absorb your question, a tad distracted by how your eyes search hers. 

“for suggesting we come.” the march has been pretty draining on her, yeah, but it’s unlike anything she’s ever seen before. such an unadulterated sense of freedom, boundless expression. her whole life, she’s felt like an outsider, the feeling only expanded with each unorthodox decision she’s made. the aversion to femininity, the abandonment of religion, the entrance into law enforcement. but, here, it feels like any decision she makes is out of the shackles of expectations.

it makes it easier to lean down, her lips hovering just over yours. her chest is tense, for this kind of affection, kissing and more intimate touches, is something she prefers keeping private. but, who knows if she’ll ever get the chance to kiss you without the fear of others again?

and so, she plants her lips on yours, swallowing down the little huff of air that escapes your lips. one hand fists into the grass, while the other holds herself up, lips coaxing for you to open so that she can slip her tongue in. 

when your sigh gets pushed into her mouth, she swallows it down and leans over you further, shoulders loosening as she loses focus on the rest of the world for once. 

yeah, she doesn’t want to lose this feeling 

“when are you going back home?” you mumble into her neck a few long kisses later.

“our home?”

you laugh against her neck. “no, I mean, your home in oregon.” you push away, eyelashes fluttering up at her. “you call our place ‘home’?”

lee blinks down at you. she supposes she does. it happened so gradually that she completely missed it. but, somewhere amongst the tree that out-stayed its welcome, the movie nights, the blood stain she left on your bedsheets three weeks ago, the one you told her you’d be honoured to sleep next to, what was once just the apartment became home. “yeah.” she clears her throat, uncomfortable with being caught unexpectedly in such an exposing moment. “I do.”

“have you called any of your past places a home?”

“other than my house in oregon, no.” and even that she only continues to consider a home because she grew up there and her mom still remains. those two factors, embedded in her for what she presumes will be forever, form an unbreakable, metallic bond to her old town and rotting house. 

lee sighs, glancing down to you, and she nearly flinches when she sees the moisture in your eyes. “what… are you okay?” her stomach squeezes in anxiety. what did she do wrong? she mentally reviews the last hour. was the church thing affecting you now?

“yeah.” you sniffle, pressing your face into the sweaty skin of her neck. “I’m just happy you see our place in that way.”

lee’s mouth twitches. this is what you’re crying over? she’s not even sure what to say. “okay. are you okay?”

you nod against her, your hair tickling right under her chin. “I just – I… I really like you.”

her arm tightens around your shoulders, the confession making her feel completely thrown off her guard, unbalanced and toppling. it doesn’t make sense, but your outright declaration of your feelings, leaving nothing to the imagination, and your confidence in the words, make her overwhelmed. how can someone like her so much? how can it be so easy?

“thanks,” she responds feebly.

you gently thwack her stomach with a chuckle. “‘thanks’? that’s all I get?”

“I’ve already made my feelings… known. remember, five weeks ago, your bedroom, you had purple socks in your hands.” lee could practically recite the details of the moment like scripture, ingrained into her memory from her repetition of it during the week it occurred. 

“how do you remember my purple socks?”

“I don’t know, I just do.” if it were up to lee, she’d be able to remember anything and everything that happened since last september. sear it into her mind until she can open it up like a book whenever she wants to look back on anything that’s happened. she wishes she was powerful enough to secure all the details. but, she still manages a satisfactory amount. she remembers the top you wore when you two first met, the rough patch of skin that had remained on your skin for weeks during winter, the nervous laughter you gave during your presentation during finals season, the sight of your hand next to hers when you touched the tapes during your first visit to the video shop, the crackle of your voice when you first spoke on the phone before you had even met. somehow, almost as though her body had anticipated what would happen before her conscious mind did, you had been leaving imprints on her since the beginning. small flecks of you, your mannerisms, what you shared – they all remain collected in her mind. not all, unfortunately. but, enough to sate her. “you were fiddling with them.”

“was I really?”

“mhm.” it was cute. it made her feel a bit reassured, for you were evidently just as nervous as her. 

“you’re sweet for noticing it.”

she turns away from you, stroking her fingers over your top. “do you feel better?”

“much.” you peck her cheek. “now, back to before, when are you going back to your mom’s?”

“second week of august.”

“for how long?”

her lips fold in. she’s been trying not to think of it much. “three weeks. maybe a month if she needs me.”

you hum. “I’ll miss you.”

she silently presses a kiss to your head. it makes her feel slightly hollow to think of the weeks she’ll be away from you, your guys’ home, even that little christmas tree that has a plastic little umbrella hanging from it, courtesy of the restaurant you two had eaten at after her exam. unexpected as it is, what you guys have is now a home. it’s comfortable.

“thank you,” she pushes herself to say.

“again? what for?”

her eyes latch onto a drifting cloud, tinged with gold at the edges. “for… making the apartment a home.”

you fiddle with the material of her button-up. “you did that too, you know.”

lee isn’t really certain how. you got the tree, you spoke to her first, you were kind to her when all she really wanted was amicable silence. “not really.”

“yes, really. you wash my dishes, you make me coffee regularly, you’re a lot cleaner than I am so half of the time, the place is only standing because of you. you schedule in our movie nights and never miss them, you surprise me with tapes I mention. you’re just so sweet.” you kiss her neck. “really sweet.” another kiss, and lee’s hissing, face hot from the words and your affection.

“stop,” she whispers. “we’re still in public.”

“says the girl who just made out with me.”

“I had momentum.”

you press another wet kiss to her neck, and lee has to resist letting her hips flinch when you slowly suck on the spot. “so do I.” you let go of her neck with a pop. “but, before I get ahead of myself, thank you. for saying I helped make the apartment a home.”

lee needs a moment to digest and dim the pleasure aroused by your attention. “it’s just the truth.” she takes a moment mulling over what she wants to say next. it feels heavy on her tongue, but she lets the weight of it roll off. “I didn’t really think I’d get to have that. unless I lived alone.”

you face creases, lips tightening. she thinks you look upset. “why?” your tone is soft, soothing, as though you’re consoling a child.

“I don’t know.” she can’t meet your eyes, not like this. “I don’t think I’m easy to understand. not as in I’m special, but I just don’t fit… socially. not in the right way.”

“well, what even is the right way?”

she knows you’re trying to challenge her not to argue, but to prove to her that there’s nothing wrong with her. and while the effort is appreciated, lee knows it’s not viable. she’s spent enough years analyzing other people, taking careful observations of them so she could learn the right and wrong ways to proceed socially, to know that how she functions isn’t what’s natural for most. and it sets her apart, it makes her stick out when socializing is demanded of her. “I don’t know. but, it’s not me. I know it isn’t.” she sucks in a deep breath, forcing herself to keep going. she’d prefer not to, but she wants to try for you. “I keep waiting to finally reach a moment when I feel comfortable in the world, with people. but, it keeps not coming.” just as she had once told you on the subway, she’s lost – in this world, in trying to navigate it. though, at that time, there had been numerous ways she felt lost lingering on her mind when she said that.

“I’m sorry you feel uncomfortable. but, there’s nothing wrong with you, you know? sure, there are certain standards, but just because a standard is popular, it doesn’t mean it’s the right way to be. you’re a good person, and kind. and just because you don’t naturally model certain standards, standards that are arbitrary, anyways, doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you, lee.”

lee’s breath trembles as she digests your words. she knows, logically, all of that is true. she’s repeated similar notions to herself on more than one occasion. but, no matter the logic and objectivity behind it, you both still can’t change the fact that those standards do shape the world. and so long as she exists in this world, there’ll always be part of her that clashes with it. “I know. but, still, those standards mean something to a lot of people.”

“I know.” you lean on her shoulder, eyes light under the sun, carefully exploring her face. it makes lee’s stomach tighten in pressure. “but, just know there’s nothing wrong with you, okay? it’s fucked up if people make you feel anything different just because you don’t follow a certain standard. good people, right people, would never judge you for that. and with time, you’ll find more and more of those people. I’m sure of it. because you’re wonderful.”

she gulps down hard, shoulders shifting. the praise makes her feel like a blinding spotlight is pointed right on her, and it doesn’t feel easy to hear it. and while your words are comforting, she can’t say she minds the amount of people she already has in her life. amaya, maria, you. she’s always been pretty content with leading a solitary life, lest for the occasional moments of wishing for more companionship. so, three people is more than enough. she just wishes she didn’t struggle so much to navigate outside of those three people. not because she wants to interact, but rather because she simply wishes she could feel less uneasy when forced to do so.

“thank you. I just feel that I’ll always be uncomfortable in certain situations.” she pushes herself to look at you. “it’s okay.”

“yeah.” your voice is quiet, and she hopes she hasn’t deflated the hope you had approached the conversation with. “but, I’m here to talk when those moments occur, okay?”

she blinks at the lack of surprise your words ignite in her. her trust in you is that steady within her – your kindness not even surprising her anymore.

when she visits her friends that night, they’re stunned at the revelation of where she’s been.

“I gotta admit it, I never thought I’d see the day,” amaya chuckles, dicing the mushrooms for the pasta she’s making. 

“but, you weren’t pushed to go to it, right?” maria asks wryly, her eyes sliding to lee.

lee pauses in her peeling of the potatoes, her sigh short and tempered. “I wasn’t.”

maria’s face immediately flattens. “that wasn’t meant to be judgy.”

“it sounded like it.”

maria sighs, the creases on her forehead smoothing out. “it’s not, okay? ever since you told me how the whole ‘girlfriend’ situation was handled, I feel better about things. you got an apology and proper, honest communication. that’s good.”

lee uses her task to give herself some time to think. she’s glad to know that maria has warmed up somewhat, but she can’t help but be bitten by doubt over if her approval is truly secured. “but, you still don’t approve?”

“no, I do,” maria says, placing her fingers on lee’s wrist. “I’ve seen you both, and from what you’ve told me, things seem good. I just– I can’t help but still have a bit of a hawk eye sometimes.”

“why, though?” lee doesn’t enjoy being under the microscope of anyone’s scrutiny, especially from her friend and especially regarding her own relationship. even if she’s relieved maria approves, she doesn’t want these tidbits of doubt casted onto her.

“because you’re my friend.” maria’s hand tightens, and lee’s twitches in response. “I’m just protective, and I want to make sure things are okay.”

“things are okay,” lee presses. “and even if they ever get… not okay, trust that I will take care of it.”

maria purses her lips, and lee knows her well enough to know it’s a sign of some internal resistance. but, finally, she nods, eyes boring into hers. “okay, yeah, you’re right. I trust you.”

it’s three words, but lee knows maria wouldn’t say anything she doesn’t mean. and so, with a sigh, she pats maria’s hand and lets go. she wishes maria’s reluctance wasn’t there, and she knows it doesn’t deserve to be there, but all she can do is hope that maria will change soon enough. 

it’s what you deserve.

–

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

seven words, and it’s enough to send you into a panic.

it all started when you and lee had gone to amaya, maria, and amaya’s sister, thuraya’s, apartment earlier that evening. you guys had been doing that a lot lately, since lee had relayed to you that amaya was planning to travel with her boyfriend for the next six months after graduation. you know how heartbroken lee is, even if she doesn’t admit it herself. her eyes keep wandering down whenever you mention amaya, and when leaving their apartment today, lee lingered in amaya’s hug for many long moments, holding onto her tight. 

you were touched by the moment, you really were, but something kept gnawing at your mind, lurking in a corner and ticking you with a bothersome finger.

you, amaya, maria and lee had been seated on the floor in their living room, legs crossed and folded as you guys dipped and shared out of the bowls on the table. the conversation had strayed to lee’s approaching visit to her mom’s, and maria had said, “it’s not gonna be stifling there, right?”

your eyes had immediately darted to lee. you know she doesn’t have a good relationship with her mom, and your stomach turned in worry.

lee’s mouth pinched together. “I mean, it will be. but, I should still go. it’s what’s right.”

“has it gotten worse?” amaya asked, dark eyebrows drawn sympathetically as her hand went to lee’s knee.

“yeah. it does everytime.”

“she doesn’t touch your room, though, right?”

lee nodded.

and all you could do was sit there, feeling utterly drained of knowledge. you had thought lee’s previously mentioned unwellness of her mom was what amaya was speculating about. but, then, what did lee’s room have to do with it? 

“I don’t know how you do it,” maria mumbled, dipping another corn chip into the salsa. “I’d go crazy there.”

“okay, let’s maybe try positive thinking,” amaya said, flashing maria a tight, mocking smile. “at least you get to see your mom, lee. she deals with so much.”

you swallowed hard. you had come to that same conclusion based on what lee has said, weeks ago, but it sounded like maria and amaya knew exactly what lee’s mom dealt with, whereas the details are lost on you. all lee had said was that she was unwell, but you knew none of the nuances or events laced into that.

it only stung more when amaya’s eyes flicked to you, clearly catching sight of your scrunched eyebrows and wide eyes. her glance shifted to lee, who was still staring down at her knees, then turned back to you with an awkward chuckle. “oh, um, sorry.”

lee’s head sharply raised at that, but as soon as you looked at her, she ducked her head to the side. that only made your stomach sink further.

back at home, you sat on lee’s bed, trying to bite back the stinging jealousy at not knowing as much about lee as her friends, fused with burning curiosity and a slight desperation. but, it was no use. your mind was whirling with questions, flashing through the tidbits of information lee has left scattered through the past year, trying to see if you can make anything of them. some pieces were lodged into place – lee doesn’t have a good relationship with her mom, there’s something up with her mom, it seems to have been just the two of them growing up. they’re from oregon. you sigh. it’s not enough, you need to know more. all the information you have seems to be just on the surface, without reason, without explanation. 

and so, you ask, “lee?” 

“hm?” she hums, tugging her shirt off, revealing her plain pink bra. you try not to go silent for too long, eyes unable to resist wandering along her freckled chest, then the dip of her cleavage. something feels so secretive, so mischievous, about seeing your girlfriend undressed and revealing the slopes and crevices of skin she usually keeps hidden. you want to worship her body, show her how much you cherish her trusting you like this.

but, maybe for another time. “um,” you start, trying to shake yourself out of the distracted lull. “I wanted to ask, lee, what’s going on with your mom?”

she freezes, shirt hanging from her wrist as she slowly slides it free. “this is about what amaya said?”

you gulp, suddenly seized with guilt. it makes you feel small, to know these questions have only been aroused by someone else knowing her better than you. you’ve always been curious to learn of her, of course you’ve been, but it’s like that conversation with amaya and maria slapped in your face just how little you know. before then, what with how slowly lee opened up, you were content with the pieces of herself she had gifted you. and you were under the impression that these were all the tidbits she could manage. but, now, knowing other people know more than you do makes you feel like it’s no longer enough, and that there’s more she ought to share. if she was able to confide in other people about more of this situation, why were you still left in the dark? you're curious to know more, and now that you know she very much can share it, you want to be part of that.

“I guess. but, I guess I didn’t realize just how little I know until I had to compare it to someone else. before, I felt like I knew a lot more, and now, it’s like I’m realizing I don’t.”

she sighs through her nostrils, a small puff of air exiting as she folds her shirt. “you do know a lot.”

a flicker of annoyance burns in you. “well, clearly not that much. and I’d like to know more. it’s an important part of you.”

her dresser makes a piercing screech as she drags it open, and you wince. “it’s not that big of a deal.”

“lee, you practically recoil whenever I bring it up! it’s clearly a big thing for you, and I want to know.”

“for my sake, or your own?”

you flinch, a stab of hurt digging through your skin. “what does that mean?”

“you’re asking because my friends know more,” she plainly states, her nude back turned to you as she unhooks her bra.

you splutter, indignant anger running through you, hot and boiling. “that’s not fair, lee. I’ve always cared, I’ve always asked. I’m just asking this now because hearing amaya made me realize I actually know a lot less than I thought I did. sure, there might be some jealousy involved, but like, it’s also about wanting to know more about my girlfriend now that I know she’s capable of sharing it with others.”

“well, I’ve known them longer than you.” her tone is flat, even, and too calm for your liking, especially when compared to the way yours quivered moments before. “you don’t need to be jealous, it’s to be expected that they know more and that I’ve shared more.”

“yeah, well, trust shouldn’t be measured by time, it’s just trust.”

“I do trust you,” she firmly says, placing her folded shirt into an open drawer. “but, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“ever?” the idea makes you feel a wretched sort of nausea. god, what does it mean if she never shares this with you? what does it mean that she’s hesitating at all? did you do something? have you been a bad girlfriend? is this because of your doubts from the night you guys got together? you’re her girlfriend, that should carry at least some weight, some level of unwavering trust. right? when you guys were friends, it was okay, it was normal for these things to take time. but, being romantically involved usually changes that. and the fact that it’s not changing makes you feel jolted, dizzy with fear and spinning thoughts. 

“not never. just not tonight.” her voice is quiet, but it’s steady and clear in her desires. 

“but, why? do you not trust me?”

“I said I did.”

“then, why don’t you want to tell me?”

her fingers curl onto the edge of the dresser, her grip tight. “it’s just… a lot. for me. I’m not ready to explain it all yet.”

you pause, the edges of your irritation softening. to hear her make such a vulnerable confession, and absolve your responsibility in it, makes you feel both relieved and sympathetic for her. you want to touch her, press your mouth to her back, which is still naked. but, the back and forth from moments before, the first one you two have ever seriously had, makes you feel silted and awkward. anxiety pulses through you at the thought of her being mad at you.

“I’m just…”

she grabs a flimsy t-shirt from her drawer, tossing it on, the motion musing her ponytail. “you should trust me, too, to go at my own pace.”

“I do! but, it’s hard to feel comfortable with you keeping this to yourself, and like, downplaying it when that’s clearly not the case. and, you know, bringing up how you’ve known your friends longer. it makes me feel, then, like it’s a me-thing.”

“it’s not.” her fingers rasp on her thigh. “but, I can’t keep assuring you of that. not when you’re pushing me this much.”

“I’m not–”

“I need some time alone.” her head tilts in your direction, sharp jaw clenched, eyes still avoiding you. “please.” 

your eyes begin to sizzle with tears, humiliation gnawing at your stomach. she’s never pushed you away like this, so this is new territory, painfully unfamiliar. she’s asked you for time alone before, yes, and you’ve been happy to give it to her. but, not in a moment fresh with pain. you want to latch onto her, press your face into her shoulder and cry, beg her to stay. because you need her in this raw, wounded moment. because in this moment, the question prodding at your mind despairingly is: is this a sign she’s tired of you?

but, you don’t want to hold on too tight. you don’t want to tire her even more if that’s what’s happening.

“I… okay.”

you weep into your pillow immediately upon entering, the yellow colour of it becoming soaked in your tears. you wish you were better than this, to not be reduced to tears just because she asked for space. it’s not like it’s even a ton of space, considering she’s right down the hall. and you know it’s fair for her to ask for that space, to need it. but, for the first time, you’re restricted from her room, her presence. and maybe it’s because it’s the first time such a thing has happened, but it’s stifling. the reminder of what happened seizes you with a death grip, forcing you down a trail of ugly thoughts about if she wants you a little less now.

it tumbles into flashes and recollections of past experiences. moments where time with past romantic partners, or well, whatevers, winded in mistreatment, distance, pushes away – anything that ended up making you wonder what exactly you had done to deserve this. lee isn’t being cruel, the rational part of you knows that. but, in the extremity of your emotions, you can’t help but get thrown down the rabbit hole, plagued with the thoughts that maybe she’s tired of you and wants time away from you because of that. that maybe you’ll lose her just like everyone else. or she’ll come to see you as a bit less worthy of good treatment now.

beneath it all, is guilt. you flip the argument in your mind over and over again, and with time, you begin to wince at all the times you pressed, even after lee made it clear your insecurities weren't why she was evading telling you. you don't know what she's been through, nor how pressured your pushes might've been making her. maybe you should've been more gentle about it.

you fall asleep early that night, eyes blotchy and swollen, head tense, and body wound up with the need to pee, but too drained to move.

at midnight, a soft knock comes to your door, and you stir lightly. 

lee doesn’t wait before entering your room, her bare feet softly hitting the floor as she slowly moves to your bed. your room is pitch black with the lack of a window, and you can just barely make out her face until she crouches next to you. you meekly watch her, soft blanket curled to your chin. 

“hey,” she quietly whispers. her eyes aren’t on you.

and that, pathetically, lovingly, breaks you even more in that moment. you sniffle, a tear not hesitating to escape the confines of your eye.

lee’s eyes flicker up and widen at the sight. “hey, hey.” she leans in closer, pressing her chin to the fold of your blanket, her breaths brushing your skin. her eyebrows, so dark you can catch sight of them even without light, are wrinkled in concentration, her shining eyes watching you intently. “baby, I…”

“sorry,” you choke out, pressing your face into the pillow. 

“no, no, don’t.” she leans in, fingers ghosting your forehead, her head shaking. 

but, you can't stop, each hard blink releasing a new stream of tears, small sobs bubbling in your throat. “are you sick of me?”

she draws in a loud, harsh breath, head tilting. after a moment of silence, she mutters, “can I come into your bed?”

after all the nights you two have shared in it, you’ve forgotten that it’s technically just yours to begin with. and god, did you miss her tonight, even if it was just three hours. you shuffle to where the bed is braced against the wall, and lee slides in and arranges her pillow so easily, as though you guys have vowed to sleep in this bed every night.

you gulp when she immediately presses the front of her body to yours, her hand cupping your cheek, forehead nudged against yours. “I won’t ever be sick of you.”

“you don’t kno–”

“I do.” her breaths are shuddering now, shaking at the edges. “I’m sure of it.”

you continue crying, small noises bursting from your mouth as your body shakes. lee leans in, her lips capturing every tear as she murmurs, “I’m here.”

“how do you know you’ll never get sick of me?”

“because I… I just won’t. I know I won’t. I know it’s hard, but trust me. I won’t.”

the word trust reignites a flood of memories of the argument, and you cough on the dryness of your throat, embarrassment crawling through you as you say, “I’m sorry. for pushing before. I do trust you to go at your own pace, and I want you to. I just got scared. that you not wanting to talk about it meant you didn’t trust me. or that we’d never reach a place of you telling me.”

 she smoothes a palm over your hip, remaining in silence for a few moments, clearly absorbing your words. after a few moments, she speaks, voice quiet and hushed. “I do trust you. and we will talk about it soon.”

“soon?” 

“yeah, soon. I didn’t want to talk about it because it’s… hard for me. but, I do want to share it. and you should know.”

“I don’t want it to just be done out of obligation.”

“it won’t. it’s… a lot for me. but, I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, like something is missing.”

you sigh. while the thought process definitely considers you, and is sweet in nature, you want her to share because of reasons not so focused on you. “but, I want you to tell me because you want to. not because you just don’t want me to feel bad.”

she nods. “I know.” the stroke of her thumb slows to a stop. “but, it’s not only about wanting to help you feel like you understand me. I also… like being understood by you. and I don’t want things unspoken between us. that never works.”

your emotions feel even more heightened at her words. lee wants you to understand her, and she wants to be specifically understood by you. that feels like an honour. “but, you want to tell me even if you don’t want to talk about it?”

“if it was easy for me to talk about, I would.” she sounds so timid, her voice small in the gentle confession. “I avoid it because it’s…”

“painful?” 

her face flinches. “amongst other things.”

tears slowly subsiding, your eyes explore her face. she looks like she’s shrunk from talking about this, shoulders hunched and body curled like a child. it makes your stomach whirl into a knot and tighten in equal parts sympathy and worry as to what she went through.

“just… only do it when you’re ready,” you whisper, the back of your hand lifting to graze her cheek.

she catches your wrist and bows her head down to your fingers. a trembling kiss meets your knuckles, and she says against them, “I’m sorry. if I hurt you before.”

and the tears rush back, the reminder of her hard tone making you want to bury your face against her. 

lee’s bottom lip gets caught beneath her small teeth, and she quietly watches you cry. “I… I shouldn’t have said you only wanted to know because my friends knew. it was a wrongful misjudgement. I thought at the time it was right, but it isn’t.”

“yeah.” the word comes out croaky and dry. you feel like the amount of tears you’ve shed has drained your body of all its replenishing water. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. or thought it. not when you’ve always been so… curious.” after a pause, she quickly adds, “not in a bad way.”

“are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

her acknowledgement of the stinging words helps to relax some of the unease in your stomach. but, there’s still one more thing you need to bring up. “it, um, it hurt me when you told me that you can’t assure me anymore.”

“why did that hurt you?”

you wince. “what do you mean?”

“I tried assuring you, but you didn’t accept it, so I said I wouldn’t anymore. I don’t understand why it’s hurtful.”

the only thing stopping you from feeling completely crestfallen is the fact that it doesn’t sound like she’s criticizing you, but is rather genuinely trying to figure out what you’re feeling.

“it made me feel like, I don’t know, like there’s a limit to the assurance you’d give me. which, like, yeah, I get if there is with extreme amounts. but, in that moment, it was just hard for me to feel like you trust me with the stuff you said. so, it scared me, and I needed you.”

“but, I had already told you I trusted you. I didn’t understand the point of repeating myself.”

“because I was still worried, lee. I mean, you know, that sort of anxiety doesn’t always make sense, it doesn’t always just… go away. sometimes it stays even after reassurance, and in that moment, it was staying. especially because I was still worried over stuff you had said before.” your voice lowers towards the end, praying she doesn’t feel attacked by you saying these things.

when she says nothing, you inadvertently squirm in discomfort, hoping your requirements weren’t too much. 

lee’s arm around you tightens, and she mutters, “you’re right. I’m sorry.”

you stare at her, a touch of surprise rippling through. “really?” 

she nods. “yeah. you felt anxious, and I should’ve been there.”

“I mean, you were.”

“yeah, but completely. without conditions or a limit.” her face is tight in frustration. “I shouldn’t have said I won’t give you assurance. I…” she sighs, gulping hard. “I need to be better.”

“but, you’re already great, lee.” 

she sighs, and without a word, leans in to kiss you. the salty drops of your tears drip and curl around your lips, giving the kiss a sour taste. but, it’s so sweet in the tenderness, so sweet in the way lee pours affection into it.

when she parts from you, breaths heavy, she whispers, “even if you feel that way, still, I’ll do better.”

“so will I,” you say, the promise surprisingly weightless on your tongue. 

for it’s easy, really, to want to do better for her.

----

a/n: so, as I mentioned before, tumblr was being a little bitch and not letting me post the whole of summer's part two, meaning I had to divide the summer chap yet again, making it now three parts (which is why this one ends so abruptly ;-;). so, this post is the second part, and honestly, I might just post the third part super soon bc I've made you guys wait long enough as is KDJSKDJ (in 2-3 days most likely, if you want to be tagged lmk through comments or asks <33)

please please pleaseeee let me know what you think, whether it be through comments or anons, since it does really boost my motivation + confidence ahhh, and truly, I'm always so curious and eager to hear what you guys think when I post something <33 I hope you all enjoyed this chap mwah mwah

[sage-green-matcha]

WE’RE NOT REALLY STRANGERS - ETHAN LANDRY 🃏

“Tell the other person to close their eyes and to keep them closed” Playing the “we’re not really stranger” card game with Ethan Landry!

Content includes: fluff! Card game, Softie! Ethan Landry, shy duo!

<3

<3

<3

You lay on the couch of Ethan’s apartment, sighing as you continued to add details to the Google slide. “You know y/n, it doesn’t have to be pretty, just copy and paste the information” you frowned. “I like it pretty, looks like we put more effort into it” You switched the background color to a deep blue, a smile on your face as it matched the other slides.

“I’m getting so bored of this” you mumbled, changing fonts and adding colors, copying and pasting pictures onto it. “How about we take a break? We’ve been working on this for the past hour” You looked down at him, a thankful expression on your face. “I was hoping you’d say that” You shut the laptop, Ethan sitting on the couch next to you.

“We better get a perfect A, we’re putting way too much unnecessary effort into this” The 20-slide Econ assignment was almost done, with only a couple of things left to add. “What do you wanna do?” He asked, chin resting on the side of the couch. You shrugged, looking around his apartment.

“Do you like card games?” You nodded, watching him as he went over to the game closet, pulling out a red box. “What’s that?” He placed the box on the coffee table, the box reading “We’re not really strangers” at the top. “Basically, it’s just a bunch of questions that we get to ask each other to get to know each other better, fits since like…we’ve only really hung out for projects like this” You nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, okay” you smiled, Ethan explaining the rules as he shuffled the cards.

“Okay, uhm I’ll ask first?” “Yea,” he pulled a card, reading it out loud to you. “What was your first impression of me?” You hummed, thinking back to the first time you’d met him. “I think…I thought you were cute, a bit awkward I guess. You seemed really smart so I’m glad I got partnered up with you” Ethan blushed at the compliment, thanking you before you pulled the next card.

“Who do you think is my favorite artist!?” Ethan knew you loved music, and he already knew the answer. “Taylor Swift…?” “Yea! I like how you know that” you bit back your lip, cuddling up to the shared blanket.

“Okay…do you think I like hot Cheetos?” Your eyes turned into lines, pointing at the empty bag of chips. “No Ethan, I think you love Cheetos” He rolled his eyes. “It’s a very solid chip, they’re good” he laughed, smiling at you. “Do you think…that I’ve ever been in love?” You watched as Ethan examined your face, eyes squinted. “I think…that no you haven’t, but other people have probably been in love with you” You turned your head, Ethan biting back his lip.

“What makes you say that?” He shrugged. “You Just have a very loving personality, it’s the first thing anyone picks up on” You blushed and he pulled out a different pile of cards. “Round two is…connection…what’s the biggest mistake you’ve made?” “That’s deep…” he nodded as you thought. “I think it’s probably…hm. Oh, I know. Not sticking up for myself in things that have impacted me, like a lot”

“Like what?” “Like…I was bullied a lot as a kid, I think that kinda messed with how I turned out” he frowned. He could never imagine people bullying you. You were so sweet and caring. “Okay…hmm what non-domestic animal describes you? And why?” You already had an answer in mind, Ethan thinking with his hand on his chin. “A cat?” You shook your head. “That is so wrong” “Really?” You nodded, “You give hamster energy” he looked at you confused. “Well…I guess that kinda does make sense” he was really random and quiet, but he was also smart.

“What’s the worst pain you’ve been in that wasn’t physical?” You felt comfortable with Ethan, so you decided to open up with your mental health issues, if he thought you were crazy then that would probably be the worst pain. “I think…when I was in this really dark place, it was a couple of summers ago but uhm. My mom was sick and I was just depressed…like suicidal” You played with the rings on your fingers, sinking yourself into the couch. “I’m sorry…are you okay now?” His heart hurt for you, looking at you with doughy eyes. “Yea! Definitely, being around people that I care about helps a lot” You smiled at him, trying to give him the indication that it was him you were talking about. “I’m glad”

“What would your younger self not believe about your life today?” You put down the card, snuggling closer to the blanket as the gears in Ethan's head turned, thinking for a minute. “Maybe the fact that I actually have friends?” He laughed and you smiled. “Really?” He nodded. “I never really had friends, I was always really quiet as a kid and- and like shy” he scratched the back of his neck.

“What’s your least favorite personality trait in a person?” “I really dislike pretentious people, like get over it. You’re not better than anyone” You shrugged and he nodded his head, agreeing. “Think of someone that you admire. What made you think of them specifically?” You were the first person that popped into mind, his face flushed as he began to speak.

“The person, they’re just so sweet and, like” he sighed, not able to put his feelings of admiration towards you into words. “They do their best at everything. They go above and beyond even when they don’t have to. It’s like they’re the perfect person and they have such a beautiful personality” he could rant to you about yourself forever.

You just smiled, nodding your head as he described this mystery person. He must have a crush on them, the way that he was going about it definitely showed signs, a small frown on your face. It was the last question of the connection round, going into reflection.

“If we were in a band…what would be our name?” He smiled. “Like, the Econ girls or something” “But I’m not even a girl!” You broke into a small fit of laughter. “I like Econ girls, that’s our band name” he nodded, excepting his fate as an Econ girl.

“What part of yourself do you see in me?” “Honestly, nothing…you’re too perfect” you scoffed. “I’m for real…I don’t think I could compare myself to you” he fiddled with his hands, avoiding eye contact. “Really? Okay, draw” he picked up the card, placing it on the table.

“When this game is over, what will be something you remember about me?” You pretended to think long and hard, already knowing the answer. “Everything, I liked getting to know you better” Ethan felt his heart pump out of his chest, trying to hold back a smile as you pulled the next card.

“What do I need to hear right now?” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, glancing at you and then at the pile of cards on the table. “That the person I thought of first was you” You could’ve screamed, and so could Ethan. His face was flushed as he waited for your response, your eyes just wide as you tried to calm yourself down.

He watched as you held back a smile, your attempt failing before you hid your face in your hands. “Another one?” You nodded, Ethan with a smile on his lips. “In one word, describe how you feel right now” The universe was working with him, all the cards playing out perfectly. “Happy..?” You questioned, nodding to yourself. “Yea, happy”

You pulled out one of the wild cards, pulling out the paper and pencils from inside the box. “Write a message to each other and give it to each other, open it once you have left” You tapped your pencil against the table. Tucking your hair behind your ear as you started to write.

Ethan watched you, attempting to sneak a peek but it didn’t work, trying to come up with what to say to you. The tension could be cut with a knife, smiles hidden as you wrote. “You done?” He questioned and you nodded, folding up the piece of paper.

“Look Into each other's eyes for 30 seconds. What did you notice?” You scooted closer toward him, your body nervous as you looked into his eyes. You always knew Ethan was pretty, but seeing him so close made you realize he was way more than just pretty. His eyes were a pretty brown color, creasing at the sides when he smiled.

His lips looked so soft, so pillowy. The perfect shade of pink. You started to even get a bit insecure about your own. Ethan on the other hand took the opportunity to examine you even more. He knew everything about your face, every detail, every mark. He felt his heart beat faster as you looked at his lips, looking back into his eyes with your lips agape.

The two of you got closer, Ethan’s light breaths on your face as he took your jaw into his hands, pulling you closer to him. Your body melted into him, your lips pressing against his without a warning. Heat filled your body, butterflies going crazy in your stomach. He tasted so good, so sweet. And the feeling of his lips on yours was addicting. His hand pushed to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him if that was even possible.

He pulled away, taking in the sight of your puffy lips, your face flushed in a pink blush. “One more? For good luck?” You nodded and he read the card to himself, instructing you to close your eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed as you waited. 5 seconds, then 10, then 15.

You felt him kiss you again, confused but not mad about it. His hand was on your waist, pulling you on top of him. The feeling of his kiss was like hundreds of fireworks going off inside of you, euphoria filling your whole body. Just the feeling of his hands running across your skin made you shiver, pressing your hand against his chest.

You pulled away and he handed you the card, reading it out loud. “Tell the other person to close their eyes and to keep them closed…wait 15 seconds and kiss them” You shook your head at the card, Ethan pulling you into his side. “I liked that game” “I did too” Before you left you exchanged letters, opening it frantically in your car as you recalled the night's events.

Y/n, you’re the person that I was talking about, but I think you already know that. I'm happy I decided to play this game with you. You make me feel safe and I really like you…It’s easier to express my feelings in letters, but I hope I get to show or tell you in these next couple of rounds.

Yours, Ethan Landry <3

[soapoet]

how are you, october?

+3 Taylor Swift songs each because she's striving and so should you.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

Soapy scribbles: I already did a general energy reading for this autumn season here, but there's quite a bit of energies at play this autumn, so I felt the need to look at October specifically as it feels very important.

01.

Shufflemancy: Taylor Swift ‐ Don't blame me, I did something bad, Red.

How long have you kept the light on? Sitting there, staring at the door, waiting for someone who never seems to come? The radio is on, playing two stations at once. The flower petals all say maybe, not he loves me, he loves me not. You are frustrated and confused, yearning for clarity but outside the sun just won't rise and the only light is the one lit outside your house. Have you given your time at a discount, or is the free trial still running? Someone needs to draw the line in the sand further from the waves that keep washing them away. You want more, and for love to not feel like agony. Red is the colour of passion, both love and hate. I see you wearing their white t-shirt, your heart bleeding and staining it red as you watch them sleep. Safe and sound, whilst you howl to the moon. You're growing territorial. A desperate act to ward off the wolves that prowl your prey. You saw them first, but they don't seem to see you.

It seems as though your thoughts and feelings are silly until somebody else echos them, word for word, and then they're liquid gold. You're not a ghost, but you feel your outlines blur. Where do you end and where do they begin? You haunt their halls, but they're fast asleep and never notice a bump in the night. You've felt powerless, like the quietest poltergeist, unable to move and shake the silverware, never able to rattle the cupboards or the picture frames. Somebody treats you like they would give you their last name, yet make no such commitments, not a single step in that direction. It is all up in the air, and you feel like the rug beneath your feet will get pulled at any moment. Is it not tiring to lie awake, watching the shadows, wondering what beasts may strike if you let your guard down in slumber? Without certainty, you're the one in fear under the covers, certain it wasn't just the wind. Because in your experience, it never really is.

Do not sign the dotted line without examination of the fine print. Better yet, do not sell your heart and soul to someone who will keep you on a shelf, saved for a rainy day, but will not puncture breathing holes into the lid and care for you truly. Do not let yourself be kept for a season, wings clipped and left to asphyxiate in a jar. You have given enough benefits of the doubt, but nobody is so daft, so oblivious, they would not embrace love they find worthy and good. Do not let yourself be kept as an option or as something good enough until something better, new and shiny, comes along. Close up shop and demand full subscription for your time and effort. If they won't pay the price, you'll find better in no time whilst karma chews them out. Especially if you feel like you can't do better, or have felt like love keeps avoiding you and you're somehow faulty and too broken to be loved, there really is someone around the next few corners who won't play you like a game or stick around only in fair weather but your storms too. So don't settle, you deserve better than okay and fine and good enough. For a select few, there really is love here, but may be drowning in addiction or fears of some kind. Remember that you can't help someone who doesn't want help, because change is made when they want change. This change may very well be coming up in the near future, and wrongs may be made right slowly. If this is somebody you love, whether romantically or platonically, even in a familial sense, make sure you keep your head above water and put your own oxygen mask on first before helping another. You can extend a helping hand, but do so when they ask, not because you're expected to do it because you always have. New beginnings in old relationships are possible if you want it.

Additional details: Amethysts, Ayurveda, moths, mixed signals, love languages, uquizzes and other such tests, purple, blue, red, bus rides, tattoos, job offers, writing, poetry, thesis, message in a bottle, missing an ex, addiction, healing, birds and squirrels, starting over, second chances, reminiscing, old photos or journal entries or ig posts, synastry charts, girl in red, Phoebe Bridgers, Noah Kahan, Bishop Briggs, YA book series, maladaptive daydreaming, BPD, lighters, short trips, parties or other get togethers, double dates, life path 8, birthdays, sanrio, studying, Scorpio/Aries/Virgo/Capricorn/Pisces, 3H/4H/5H/12H, Saturn/Mars/Uranus, Lilith/Chiron, 25/89/222/555.

02.

Shufflemancy: Taylor Swift - Gorgeous, Paper rings, I think he knows.

Luck seems to be on your side, or it soon will be. After a long drought, you have stumbled upon an oasis. Prayers whispered in the dark, sometimes choked out by tears, are now proven to have been heard after all. Endless night and harsh winter is over, even though seasonally speaking it's right ahead of us in the northern hemisphere. In your life, however, you're coming out of a very long and hard winter. You have felt cold and lost, sometimes frozen in place, as though your icicle bones and frosted skin wouldn't let your body decompose when you thought you were dead. You were stuck up to your thighs in snow. Every step was a challenge, and harsh winds threatened you like frail branches bending and snapping in storms. Now the snow is melting, trampled into slush beneath your boots and making way for spring flowers to bloom.

Forward movement is happening in many areas of your life. New beginnings are popping up like wildflowers in a meadow for you to frolic in. You're making changes and changes are making you. Immovable objects begin to roll down the hilltop where you've felt stranded like a lone celltower sending and receiving signals. You may have felt in your heart and soul that the winds are changing. Your intuition has been wide open and receptive for some time now, hasn't it? But rooted in place unable to move you have felt unable to take action. That is changing now as not only can you move forward, but things you have wished for begin to arrive like ships to your shores. You sowed and nurtured the seeds and it is time to harvest your crops. If you have dealt with mental terrors and grief, you should see those slowly begin to heal, circumstances improve, and help becoming available to you and you finally feel ready and able to take it.

If you've been engaging in some good old fashioned yearning, know that it's a case of mutual pining. Someone whose freckles, birth marks, or scars you have mapped out like an astronomer the night sky in stolen glances has stolen just as many of you. Either one of you, perhaps both, have been closing doors as of late, gone through endings and made space for the new and found the keys to the doors once shut and chained and locked. There is a distinct sense of leveling up here, like entering a new region in a game at last when the requirements have been met, and you're now free to explore new and unknown territory. I see unwavering eye contact where before it was a game of cat and mouse. I see a church, two people side by side in the pews sharing quiet confessions. Words previously only thought find a voice and get spoken, not to the moon but the heart they were meant for. There can be some secrecy involved, but less like the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet it's keeping something sacred between two souls, keeping each other like an oath. Sheltering a flame, for some of you one rekindled, between four hands and promising to meet in the woods at night. This secrecy is not one grown from shame, but one of dedication. A solid foundation, a home and sturdy fortress is being built or rebuilt in the dark of the night so its eventual beauty and intricacies may be admired by all in the sun. You may have manifested this, or simply known this was inevitable. All you really had to do was accept it as fate and wait for it to unfold. This is a cozy kind of love, but also devout like two souls looking upon each other in reverence. It feels as close as it feels free. There's something to lean on but also room to grow. You hold each other tightly, but loosen the grip as needed, and always ready to catch the other if they fall. For some of you this marks the end of a third party situation, an entirely new love, and for others this is reworking an existing or past love with a new set of rules and making magic together after tough challenges.

Additional details: Full moon, abundance, sudden income, lottery luck, gifts, receiving or giving flowers, dancing, swimming, guided meditations, listening to higher frequencies, therapy or counselling, lists and plans, entrepreneurship, editing, finishing tasks, cats, rabbits and ferrets or rodents, pancakes and waffles, sunflowers and dandelions, espresso, heavy rain, holding hands, nostalgic scents or environments, coughing, PTSD, neurodivergence, artificial intelligence, fidget toys or stress balls, colouring books, arts and crafts, dainty jewellery, body language, law of assumption, dreams, blue, green, black, glasses, kpop, punk, indie, Stray Kids, Ateez, Dreamcatcher, Daft Punk, Sabaton, Avenged Sevenfold, Korn, Virgo/Leo/Cancer/Aquarius/Sagittarius, 1H/3H/5H/11H, Jupiter/Moon/Mercury/Pluto, North and South Node/Ceres, 12/13/33/555/888.

03.

Shufflemancy: Taylor Swift - The archer, Mean, Anti-hero.

Narcissus and Echo, a tragedy of old. You may have been at the mercy of fluctuating between the two. This can be a dance between you and another, or you and your own reflection. You may have pushed someone away. A friend, a family member, yourself, or an authority figure of sorts. Demanding they leave you alone, left them on read or never bothered to open their letters at all, after so long of clinging to their every word. Certain of your independence, a need to put yourself first, desperate self love wholly unrequited. Or perhaps you fought viciously for yourself, but your voice was never heard. As though you always needed someone else to speak your words for them to be taken as right and true. Perhaps you were sent on a glitched quest, "ask your mother" only met with "ask your father", leaving you in the uncertainty of the in between, alone and filled to the brim with unanswered questions and no sense of direction.

You have sought help, asked for assistance, asked all the right questions and really pushed your own cart forwards though it has been uphill. And something or someone always cast stones on your path forward, shoved stick between the wheels to make the process feel so hopeless. There are wounds that you bear that have been left unhealed for years. Still raw and bleeding you dry whilst you try to keep yourself together like cupping water in your hands as it spills through your fingers. But though your path is full of traps and spikes and is uncertain and winding, you know the way forward all within yourself. Because you carry with you the only light you need to find your way. You may cross paths with kind advisors who unseathe their swords to fight for you, and some of them may already be in your life. Those who see the injustice and tear down the thicket ahead to make way for you and protect you whilst you stitch your wounds and ready yourself for battle yourself. Accept the help, encouragement, and follow these kind mercenaries when you get lost. Allow them to carry your burdens when as Atlas you need a break from carrying the world upon your shoulders. Soon you'll be strong enough to do what you need to do. Be better, stronger, healthier, if not for you right now then for those who need you and cherish you and want you by their side in the quests of life. Eventually your actions will prove to be the best for you, and a faint portrait of a future you smiles upon your present self for your decision to keep moving forward.

If you need to put your foot down, do so in earnest. Shoo away guilt and shame, and let go of the idea that you must suffer in silence and weather unnecessary storms, speak when spoken to and follow another's commands so often not in favour of your own well-being. Fight your inner demons, but know you need not fight them alone. Dip a quill in ink and rewrite the rules. Break into the library which holds the book of life and black out that what does not serve you, and take ownership of your own story. If Narcissus treats you poorly, trample him under your foot on your way out the door. He is only a flower now and seasons change, and he will wilt and wither away as you no longer shine upon his petals.

Additional details: Violins, literature, art galleries, sisters and fathers, divorce, babies or children, psychotherapy, CBT, law, changing your name, lgbt+, jazz, classical music, Regina Spektor, Kate Bush, Tori Amos, Fiona Apple, borzoi, dog videos, playing instruments, writing a book, storytelling, unknown address, exotic animals, spiders, ED, OCD, teddy bears, squishmallows, studying for a test, doctor's appointments, funerals, chill covers/lofi, slowed/reverb/acoustic versions, subliminals, affirmations, lace, fuzzy socks or woolen socks, bruises, house plants, monstera, ivy, pothos, tea collection, cold hands, Taurus/Gemini/Libra/Scorpio/Capricorn, 2H/6H/8H/10H, Saturn/Pluto/Neptune/Venus, IC/MC, 17/23/95/11:11/000/444.